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kakushino · 1 year

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First... or Fourth?

Uzui Tengen x AFAB! Reader

You're returning from a years-long undercover mission, which forced you to leave your new husband at the time, Tengen. However, there is a surprise waiting for you...

Tags: angst, betrayal, mild gore, self-worth issues, body worship, emotional smut, dom-leaning bottom reader Word count: 7,9k

Masterlist | Part 2

Just a few more miles, just a few more…

You were on your way back from an undercover mission - one that had been given as a punishment for your actions ‘against’ your Clan. It took years to complete, and you will never be the same again. But, you were looking forward to seeing the one person who could heal your soul.

Uzui Tengen.

Your husband.

One you had to leave nearly immediately after marrying.

He had been waiting for you for years all alone, or at least you hoped he had been waiting for you. You promised each other to always come back, alive and intact.

Your mind wandered. Would he be the same height, or taller? Did he keep his hair short? Did he still wear the gold arm braces? Did he still live in the mansion he bought for the two of you? Was he alive? Was he waiting for you? Did he-

No. You pushed the feelings of doubt aside. Tengen would be waiting for you in your estate. He would give you that smile you loved so much, welcome you home. You would both cry in happiness. Oh, how you ached to be in his arms again. You two would cuddle for a whole day and a half, content to bask in each other.

But first, you needed to get presentable. The old inn that used to be in a nearby town got replaced with a newer one. At this time, any would do, as long as you could bathe, eat, sleep, and buy new clothes, not necessarily in that order.

The old set of clothes you put aside before your mission was too big on your much thinner frame. You stared at yourself in a mirror in the lobby on your way to shop. Maybe a haircut was in order too, but you could handle that yourself with a trusty kunai.

You tried not to dwell on your experiences from the past few years lest you not sleep that night. A makeover would do well for you.

The town wasn’t big, and finding the seamstress took no time at all. One look at your figure had the old woman bringing out three pre-made kimono sets. “I’m sorry dear. I don’t think there are any others that would fit you,” she told you.

You sighed quietly. That was fine. You could always order some later. For now, one would do. Of the three, only one seemed to be presentable for your flashy husband. “The yellow one please.” Though the pattern was very simple - vertical stripes - the color was very vibrant and eye-catching. The seamstress gave you a bright red obi, perhaps understanding your desire for more color.

Walking out of the shop, you felt like a new person. It was near sunset, time passed quickly while you were gossiping with the old woman. She’d given you the much desired haircut as well, dry and choppy hair strands falling like autumn leaves.

You would see your love tomorrow. Your heart swelled with affection. Butterflies took up space in your stomach.

You couldn’t wait.

Something was wrong. Something was so, so wrong. There, in front of you. Your husband - was he? - with three women - very busty women - smiling at them with your smile, the special one, the one you cherished so much.

What’s going on?

“Tengen?” you breathed out with a barely-there high pitched whine. His eyes - beautiful, loving, staring at those women - snapped in your direction. Of course he heard. He’d always had the best hearing of all people you knew- used to know.

He looked like he was seeing a ghost, a phantom of the past. Your heart was clogging up your throat, threatening to be thrown up. You keened in pain. Tengen with three beautiful busty women… Has he not waited? Does he not love me anymore?

“[Name]?” you imagined he said it out loud, but he might have only mouthed it. You were too far apart. You with your plain kimono, hair much shorter, standing alone on a dusty road and him with his flamboyance and his three women.

You wanted to run, you wanted to scream, you wanted to fight, you wanted to scratch him, scar him, you wanted to cause a scene, dig a grave and lay in it. A war went on inside you - your brain and your heart in a battle to the death, a last stand. Was this how it felt to have your heart ripped out? To have your mind unravel? Every day you thought of Tengen - Tengen, Tengen, Tengen - of the moments spent together under blooming sakuras, of the whispered promises to break away and start over, to ditch the miserable life of a shinobi-

In a flash, he stood scarcely a foot from you. The Uzui Tengen of your memories used to be slightly shorter, his hair was longer now, and he appeared even stronger than before, flashier than ever, if possible. He glowed with the happiness of a good life, a happy life. (Happy wife, happy life, he used to say. How true was it now?) The expression he wore was one of disbelief, his huge hands outstretched as if to touch you, slap your wrist, tear out your heart, crush your trachea, break you-

“Lord Tengen, who is this?”

The moment was broken. You flinched and took a quick step back, skimming the figures of the three women. Kunoichi, without a doubt.

A horrible feeling crawled up your spine, one you tried to push back because he wouldn’t… would he? You promised each other to break away from the system, to deny everything you were taught and live a good life together.

Has he gone back to shinobi life? Gone back on the promises? Taken more wives? Taken other wives?

Your husband ignored the inquiry, and instead whispered, “I thought you died,” in a horrified whisper, his eyes wide with disbelief, too shiny to be normal, as if he were holding back tears. “I thought you were dead.” A strangled sound left his throat and he grabbed your wrists, pulling you into a rough embrace. Heart now falling back to its rightful place in relief, you hugged your man back.

His perfume had changed but the natural musk underneath stayed the same, and you clung to that faint comfort, the familiarity. You clung to his sturdy frame, how he still towered over you, how safe you felt in his arms for the precious moment. You felt warm for the first time in years. Tears gathered at your lashes, and fell, and soaked through his clothing, the clothing that smelled like him and home.

“Lord Tengen?”

The moment broke again, and this time you refused to ignore the elephant on the road behind Tengen. Or rather, the three elephants. You took one, two, three stumbling steps back.

“Who are these women, Tengen?” you asked, voice thick and trembling. The wild emotional ride you were on was taking its toll on you. Your eyes flitted between him and the three.

Tengen’s smile was a bit wobbly, something you had never seen in your life. Was he that surprised to see you? Or did he know you wouldn’t like hearing what he would tell you? Who are these women and why are they with my husband?

“[Name]-” his voice broke, he cleared his throat. “[Name], these are my wives - Suma, Hinatsuru, and Makio.”

And with just one word - wives wives WIVES - he shattered your heart. You vaguely heard him introduce you with just your name.

“Forever? You promise?”

“I promise. Just me and you against the world, precious.”

It was while you were walking with all four of them to spend the night that your mind started truly racing.

Your mother used to say nothing hurts more than being hurt by the person you never thought would hurt you. You used to scoff and disregard her wisdom. You were re-evaluating your stance on that.

Fight or flight response warred inside you as you were led to your estate, the estate Tengen bought to share with you as his wife, not with-

Why was he acting as if nothing about this situation was wrong? As if he hadn’t made the careful foundation of your sanity crumble quicker than a house of cards in the breeze?

You stopped right inside the property. You needed to gain control over yourself. You shoved your feelings into your stomach, acid filling your mouth. Your belly ached, from hunger and from stress. You felt as if you were reaching the edge of the void - the void being insanity. One step and you would plunge, spiral downward with no sight of the end.

“Tengen?” you murmured, “Can I talk to you alone, please?” You refused to look anywhere but him, refused to look for what changed and what remained of your- his- their estate.

Throughout the walk to their home, he kept looking at you - for you; tilting his head - listening to your heartbeat. Now he looked torn, glancing at the opened entrance. In the end, he nodded, closed the door and you both stood there, staring at each other.

In the back of your mind, you realized the reason behind his actions, you compartmentalized and understood, but you wanted to hear it, you wanted to know- “Why?”

The question hung in the air like a demented ornament to a festival lantern, except it was set on fire- everything was on fire-

“Precious-” Your heart throbbed in your chest at the nickname. “- please, you were gone.” His voice broke into a low whine and it ached to hear him in such distress. Suddenly, it was as if everything started spilling out. “I never thought it would take that long- I waited and waited and fucking waited and I got no word, no letter, no nothing- I thought- I thought-”

His breath came out in pants as he stepped closer, his arms reaching for you, gripping your shoulders.

“I thought you didn’t-” A high pitched keen left him, unable to say it for the second time that day, the very thought making his heart ache. It brought tears to your eyes as you choked down a sob. “Please-”

Tengen fell to his knees in front of you and the sight of his desperation destroyed what little defences you had. By instinct, you hugged him to your chest, his height allowing him to rest his head against your breast, listening to your heart beat steadily. You started crying, your sobs intertwining with his panting. “Shhh, I’m here, I'm right here, baby…” It wasn’t long before his own choked sobs joined the symphony of grief and emotional release. “I’m here, I’m fine, we’re fine, we’re alive and- and-”

“I thought I lost you, precious. Each day was torture, you were my missing piece, you are my missing piece. Thank you - thank you for returning- for coming back to me,” he choked out thickly. “Oh lord, what have I done? You fought for your life every day and I- I fucking married Suma, Hina and Makio. Fuck-”

You were weak to his words, to his warmth and his scent. You were weak to the way he hugged you, the way he gasped for breath and the way his tears made your yukata wet.

“You deserve better - a better husband. You deserve someone who would wait for you, not me- I- I don’t deserve you anymore; but fucking hell will I try again. Please, let me try again. I will spend the rest of my life on my knees in front of you if you just give me just this one chance-” Tengen nearly wailed into your chest, his voice trembling, devastated, as if a dam broke down and the flood of his emotions couldn’t be stopped, decimating barriers and safety measures against such a catastrophe. More tears soaked your yukata, his hands grasping at your clothes desperately, a drowning person clawing for air.

And you weren’t immune.

You cried right along with him, rocking you both back and forth underneath the slowly setting sun, the warm golden hue washing over you in a stark contrast to the turmoil between, around and inside of you two.

As you reeled from the onslaught of pent-up emotions, you felt his chest heaving quicker and quicker, rapidly getting into the unhealthy pace, so familiar to you by now - he was hyperventilating.

“Tengen, baby, look at me-” you rasped out, trying to get him to let go of his impossibly tight grip on you. You heard the sound of fabric tearing. “Baby, c’mon, look. at. me.”

He wasn’t easing his strength. Fuck.

You tugged at his ponytail, gently, then rougher, then as harsh as you dared, his headband slipping askew from it. “Tengen! Let go!”

He gasped for air, staring at you as if you were a saint or an angel stepped down from Heaven and a death god about to pull him to Hell all at once. His face was flushed, lashes dewy, cheeks puffy from crying. It was the most terrified, the most pathetic you've ever seen him.

But was he really pathetic? You were his wife, who left on a mission, who kept away for years and years, who hadn’t written a letter to him once, who wasn't with him when his last brother died, who just returned and wrecked his new life like a typhoon.

"Tengen, breathe."

Perhaps it was you who did not deserve to come back, to disrupt his new relationships and drive a wedge into a scabbed-over wound, making it bleed all over again.

More of your tears fell as you attempted to smile, though it came out more like a grimace most likely. "Breathe slowly, mkay? I'm here. You can hear my heartbeat, can’t you? Match my breathing. Can you do that for me?"

His breathing gradually deepened and his eyes lost the hazy look.

"I'm Uzui [Name], your wife, we're at the house you bought with your money when we were fourteen. It's Friday, sundown. Are you with me, Tengen?" you asked softly.

Tengen blinked a few times, looking up at you. “[Name]...” Your hand was still clutching his hair tightly, the slight pain grounding him further. He wanted to say Please baby, take me back, hug me, kiss me, fuck me- “You can let go now,” he said instead. The yearning he felt for you was quickly buried underneath a thick blanket of shinobi training, analyzing the situation.

“Sorry.” As if burned, you quickly released him.

You stared at each other for a long moment in silence, perhaps realizing the complexity of the situation you were in. You wanted to be back with him, and he wanted to be back with you, but you both perceived his new wives as a sort of betrayal, whether by infidelity or values you stood by.

For the first time, Tengen looked at you, really looked.

There were dark eye bags underneath your puffy eyes, betraying your lack of sleep, deep set stress lines marred your pretty face. There was a new scar at the corner of your lips, so small it almost went unnoticed. Your hair was much shorter than it used to be, but the disheveled state was caused by the wind, not necessarily by neglect. Though, he could pick up some not quite right strands, cut by an amateur hand. Would you let him fix it? Would you even let him get close with something sharp? Would you trust him? What had happened to you?

You were thinner, the colorful yukata hiding your figure only little to his observant eyes. He stared, analyzed and wondered - what else is that plain cotton yukata hiding?

What really went down in that God-forsaken mission?

You giggled nervously, as Tengen took his time to unwrap your clothes like a present. He had a joyful grin on his face, just as nervous yet better at hiding it.

“Hey, hey, it’s not fair that only I am naked, you know?” Using a grappling move he himself taught you, you quickly reversed your positions, him laying down on the futon and you straddling his hips. He gave you a wide-eyed look, face flushed at your display of skill. His hands cradled your hips, his fingerless gloves scratching your skin slightly.

You gave him a quick peck on his lips and then focused on unraveling his top. As flashy as always, it was a complicated thing, making you grow frustrated quickly. With a growl, you reached into his thigh holster and took out a kunai, slashing his shirt open.

“Hey! That’s my favorite!” he protested with a pout, not really mad. You were already kissing your way down his exposed chest, playfully biting at his nipple. His breath hitched.

“It was your favorite. I’m your new favorite now,” you grinned in triumph as he rolled his eyes, giving you a gentle slap on your ass. The material of his gloves gave you a slightly burning feeling as he caressed the quickly reddening spot.

You sat up in his lap and took his left hand in yours, quickly stripping him of his glove. His right hand was bare before you knew it, but something drew your attention.

Tengen had a beauty mark near the pulse point. Guided by instinct or fate, your lips pressed against it, his heartbeat quickening beneath them. You made eye contact. His magenta eyes could have hearts in them; such a lovestruck look was novel on him. It warmed you from the inside that he let you so close to his vulnerable point - his wrist so breakable; his hand would have been useless if you just twisted with the right amount of pressure; if you decided to bite him and make him bleed out.

It was getting too serious for you, too deep. The entire moment was already making you feel too vulnerable, it being your first time. To break the moment, one of your hands went to his side to tickle him. Tengen noticed, and was quicker.

Both of you dissolved into a gasping laughing pair of teenagers, for once feeling your age.

The yukata he gave you was silk. Your calloused hands hadn’t felt such a material for a long time - years, in fact. The fabric had a pattern of a turtle-shell in golden hues of autumn intertwined with faded green and red details. You recognized it faintly, but couldn’t place where you saw it.

Slipping it on felt like Heaven, like laying down into fluffy clouds if you could reach them - and you were so tired, you wanted to lay down in them. Yet you couldn’t, it was just the morning and your stomach grumbled in hunger, reminding you the last time you ate was yesterday morning.

The three new- other wives had left early in the morning. You heard their teary good-byes to Tengen from your room’s opened window, the mission they were being sent on apparently dangerous. Promises to write letters were exchanged, the women well-versed in what Tengen expected of them for such a task.

Return to me alive, in one piece. If your life is at risk, abandon the mission and come back home.

Was your disappearance the reason he cared for each as such?

You pondered on things past, present and future as you crept into the kitchen. Thankfully, every room remained as it used to be. The room you slept in was actually supposed to be your own lounge room, where Tengen would not enter, where you could keep your privacy and spend time alone. He had his own, or at least used to have one. With three other occupants, it was hard to guess if he kept it or gave it away to one of them.

There was a breakfast ready for you already, a lone spread for one at the head of the table. You stared at it and tried to imagine how it would look with all of them. Did Tengen sit at the head or did he sit in between his wives? Did they all sit differently each time?

Could you handle being the fourth wife?

You didn’t know. The idea seemed unfathomable yesterday.

You hid in your room the whole day after eating. The sun was setting slowly, creating a warm hue in your little burrow.

The dream you had had during the night brought a bone-deep ache for what was - what used to be. You felt exhausted from all the thinking; you were almost certain you could accept the new-wives situation, but it entirely depended on their attitude and personalities as well as Tengen’s approach to this whole scenario.

A knock interrupted the sound of silence you slowly came to enjoy that day. “[Name]?” came Tengen’s muffled voice. “Are you there?”

For a moment, you were tempted to remain silent, though you knew he knew you were in there. He could hear your hitched breath when he knocked, your heart beating, your clothes rustling.

In the end, you resisted and said, “Come in.”

He opened the sliding door slowly, revealing his hunched over frame. It was surprising to see the normally confident man in such disposition, even despite the chaos of the past twenty four hours.

Tengen stood at the threshold of your space, not really looking at you, instead staring at your collarbone, which stood out sharper than it used to. “May I-?” He still asked for permission to enter. Your heart swelled with affection, nearly cracking in half from the overwhelming strength of your feelings.

“You may come in, yes,” you told him, sitting up on the futon you laid on before he came. “What brings you here?”

He took a hesitant step forward, then another and another until he knelt at your side a respectful distance away from you. “I want to- no, I need to know, what has happened to you?”

You freeze, breath stuttering at his question. Your hands clutched at the blanket covering your legs.

Tengen knew he hit a sensitive spot and he didn’t want to press you further but this was a matter of utmost importance to him - he had to know what happened to you so he could help you, fix the ache and make it right. It was for both - for you and for him.

“Show me, precious, please,” he whispered hoarsely. “Show me what’s hiding under your shield, under that yukata, please…” His voice broke as he bowed his head humbly.

Your head buzzed with thoughts, mental barriers rising and crumbling at the speed of light, incessant battle between hope and desolation. In the end, all you could do was empty your head, shove your emotions down to your stomach and show him all of yourself - let him be the judge and executioner of your future.

You slowly got up to your knees and loosened your obi with the resignation of a soldier walking to frontlines.

The yukata he gave you was silk. For the first time in a long time, sliding a cloth off your body didn’t send fire down your nerves from the pain. Inch by inch, familiar and unfamiliar parts of you were revealed to his intense stare.

You knew what he saw. Hideous scars and disfigured flesh. And compared to his new wives? You were nothing. It was a harsh reminder of the chasm of worth between you and the three.

The yukata slipped all the way down and you had the urge to cover yourself again.

“Oh, precious…”

Tengen’s voice sounded muffled to you as you focused on a wall decoration behind his form, your mind blocking out its stressor. There was a kakejiku, a hanging scroll, with a blood-red cherry tree and black flower petals. It sparked a memory deep in your mind, but you couldn’t figure out what it was. There were exactly eight roots but only one branch, and the inversion of the usual colors was so strange.

“-ious? Precious, please answer me-”

You snapped out of it and exhaled, the sound closer to a death rattle than a breath. “What-?”

He was much closer than before, looking you in the eyes rather than staring at your body. His hands were outstretched as if he wanted to hold you but he wasn’t touching you.

Your focus snapped back like a badly tied rope under pressure. Body. Scars. Mission. Tengen.

Tengen, Tengen, Tengen.

“Precious, please, tell me-”

The half-feral look in his eyes broke you, cracked you open. “I was stretched too thin… I didn’t know what-” You stopped yourself before you started spilling everything. Despite it being over, you couldn’t disclose what exactly happened, it was too ingrained inside of you - a kunoichi from birth. “I was losing my sight of the end… I wished for it to end, I wished to go home, to you.”

“You’re home, I’m here. Please, let me in, precious. Please.”

“... I was losing my mind,” the admission was hushed. Even the nature outside seemed to quieten down for you. “I thought of ending it.”

‘-of ending myself’ went unspoken, but Tengen heard it, loud and clear. His heart thundered in his chest, drowning out all else than your breathing, your heartbeat.

“Can I touch you?”

You turned to him, staring at his hands as if they were knives.

“Can I touch just your hands then?” The tremor of his voice betrayed the way he felt. He offered his own to you, palms up and relaxed, as if giving an offering to something divine, way more than you yourself were. “Please.”

Hesitantly, and oh so slowly, you reached out to him. You hovered your hands above his for a moment, watching to see if he would grab you. When he didn’t, you made contact. His body seemed to run much hotter than before, warming your cold skin. There were more calluses - different ones than before.

The feeling of his warm palms against yours sent shivers down your spine. You looked him in the eyes, both of you nearly holding your breath as the moment lingered.

His hands - so huge compared to yours - slid up your arms oh so slowly. His left hand encountered a jagged piece of flesh first. He froze. Taking a deep breath, Tengen shuffled to your right side. On the back of your shoulder reaching halfway down your arm was a burn scar, ugly and twisted, you knew. Phantom pain throbbed in the skin.

He leaned down. A feather light kiss was placed upon the start of the scar, then another an inch above it, his hot breath and soft lips making it feel better. There was nothing else you could focus on other than his gentle kisses being laid all over the rough flesh.

Every touch of his lips against your skin felt like absolution, like validation, like worship. But that couldn't be right - you deserved no absolution, no worship. You deserved to rot, you should have never come here, to him. You should have realized he'd have a life already, a new wife or three and- and-

His searing hot palms trailed over your shoulder blades, gentle, almost not there. You glanced over your shoulder; he’d closed his eyes, perhaps respecting your privacy despite touching you so intimately, reaching deep into the hurt of your body and soul, soothing you.

His touch brushed down your back, large palms encompassing the entirety of it as he went down, over your panties to-

His breath hitched. Your heart seemed to stop. His thumbs reached the first scar of your thighs, the first of many many many carved into your thighs and calves, each one deliberate, each as ugly as the previous, meant to hurt and humiliate. These were not battle scars. Only one thing could cause this.

You could still hear the cracks, loud like thunder and burning furrows into your skin, tearing the flesh asunder.

And then there was a kiss.

Your thighs quivered and gave out, arms colliding harshly with the ground, a shock of pain that made you cry out, tears finally spilling down your cheeks.

"[Name]!"

You fell over onto your forearms, cradling your head in your hands as you started to sob. The tatami dug into your skin, distracting you from the emotional turmoil. “I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine- This. Is. Nothing.” You panted and shivered but started to calm down bit by bit.

Two warm hands were touching your hips lightly, a reassuring skin contact, not moving, just there.

“I’m fine now,” you breathed out shakily.

The hands trembled and the next kiss on your thigh was wet. His hot breath washed over your skin. You were suddenly too sensitive.

His lips made contact with each scar, again and again he kissed away the memories and the pain.

Wet droplets fell onto your calves, one by one, soothing over your heated skin. The sensation made your tears come faster, staining the tatami floors as you shook all over.

You could not believe how he made you feel so loved, cherished, with such a simple gesture as kissing your scars. Tengen, your husband, your one and only, the reason you came out of that mission alive and with your limbs intact.

“Pl-please-” You didn’t know what you were begging for but he gave it to you either way. His lips were more trailing over the skin than kissing by then, his tongue darting out to lick at the tears he left on your calves.

His palms moved up your body gently once he’d kissed the bone-deep ache away, rough palms so soft over your bottom, spine, shoulder blades - the burn scar - and only then did you notice he knelt at your side. You were still hunched over, blind to everything but your sense of touch and hearing his voice.

Tengen whispered, “Precious… Get up- for me? Please.”

Your limbs were shaky like a newborn foal as you pushed yourself up into a sitting position. Eyes teary, only a Tengen-shaped blob was clear to you. “‘m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” You heard more than saw him kneel in front of you, his fingers gentle as he wiped away your tears. “Never apologize.”

His own face was slightly puffy from crying, and wasn’t that an unflashy sight? The great shinobi Tengen, kneeling over your nearly naked form, jaw clenched, crying nearly as much as you, a wild look in his eyes, feral with grief.

You saw that look in his eyes once before, when his brothers…

His hands trembled when he cradled your cheeks, his breath shaky when he kissed your forehead. “You’re so brave, so strong… I’m glad you’re back, that you’re here, with me. I now realize this, before you came back… my world was in black and white. When I saw you on the street yesterday, it was as if you were the only thing in color. You brought color back into my life,” he admitted in a choked whisper. “I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

Rain started to pelt the roof outside the room, distant thunder echoing faintly.

“I’ll always love you, scars and all. This is my promise, now and forever, precious, til death do us part.”

Your thoughts tangled in messy knots, your brain telling you one thing and Tengen telling you the other. You had no chance to even begin searching for the start or the end of the whole disarray that was your mindscape.

A long exhale from the man in front of you drew your attention. His gentle palms continued their journey down your body, caressing down your neck, chest, torso…

Tengen stopped- stopped moving his hands, stopped breathing. Smooth flesh caught his notice, way too smooth. Wild eyes looked down. Bright red and shiny, half torn, half precise cut scar spanning the length of your stomach. His fingertips traced it softly, yet it still sent shockwaves of pain down your nerves.

You flinched-

He made a sound of distress.

- your mind bringing forth the memory before you could focus on anything else.

You realized what you had to do in that second. It couldn’t stay inside.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-” Your hand fumbled with the only kunai you kept poison-free and pointed it to the sluggishly bleeding wound, panting heavily. “It’s okay, it’s okay, [Name]. Your hands are the steadiest of the family. You skinned fugu fish for Tengen regularly. This is nothing.”

This is nothing.

The tip of the knife was buried deep underneath the skin.

This is nothing.

The kunai pressed into your belly and you made a quick and precise cut, widening the stab wound.

This is Nothing.

You dropped the kunai and the fingers of your dominant hand delved inside the opening.

This Is Nothing.

Tears fell down your cheeks at the nauseating and painful feeling, trying to focus on the feeling on your fingertips instead.

This Is NOTHING.

You found the shrapnel. It embedded itself into your finger as you pulled it out.

THIS IS NOTHING.

You vomited.

“-ame]? [Name]! You’re with me, with Uzui Tengen. You’re in my- our estate. It’s night time, Saturday. [Name], can you hear me? Please, answer me, precious. I can’t- can’t-”

The mission madness receded, the fog in your mind clearing up. You were panting heavily, sweating as if you had a fever. “Ten- gen-”

“I’m here, I’m right here, precious. What did I do wrong? What did I do? Say the word and I’ll fix it- please-”

“S-stop-” you tried to focus on something other than his frantic energy.

His hands, so warm, holding your waist lightly. His thumbs, so gentle, caressing the skin in circles. His scent, so home, calming you down.

Tengen’s presence tethered you back to Earth.

“Don’t talk,” you choked out. You had to focus.

What could you see? Tengen, tatami mats, silk yukata, futon, the hanging scroll.

What could you hear? Your heavy breathing, rain, Tengen’s soft breaths, your pounding heart.

What could you feel? The cold air, the tatami mats, Tengen’s warmth.

“Okay, okay,” you breathed out softly. The tight downward spiral winding in your chest released slowly. In through your nose, out through your mouth. In, and out.

“You don’t have to tell me anything- I’m so so sorry. What can I-? Is there anything I can-?”

You took his hands in yours and squeezed tightly twice. Are you okay? He squeezed back once. Yes.

“Breathe… I’m fine now.” His breathing cadence was very close to hyperventilating. Guilt crept up your spine. You’d brought the Great Shinobi Tengen, your husband, to his knees twice in just as many days. You should suffer for such a crime for Ten Thousand Years.

“You’re not fine, precious. You’re far from- But you’re here with me, I will make it be fine. Give me a chance-”

The air was practically saturated with emotion, tension and everything between Hell and Heaven imaginable. You clutched each other’s hands with desperation. You kept eye contact - an uncontrollable typhoon holding its breath in anticipation, before it unleashed its full power.

He kissed you with the hunger of a starving dog. It was clear he was fighting with himself, alternating erratically between devouring you and feather-light kisses so tender it made your toes curl. He bit you and soothed the bite, he caressed you and lapped at you. It was dizzying.

You were just as thirsty for him though, positively parched for his kisses, his affection, his taste and his love. You savored every second of it, as if you would die should you separate but for a millisecond.

“I burn for you,” he breathed against your lips, diving in once more.

You remembered the times when he ate you out for his pleasure, how he nearly got off of it more than you did. But today, this time, you wouldn’t be able to handle such vulnerability, your emotions too raw from… whatever that was a few minutes ago - validation? Worship?

At the same time you needed him, needed the closeness sex brought to you both. And the same need drove you to break the kiss and push him onto his back as you straddled his hips. He let you, surrendering to you completely despite your feeble strength compared to his. You made quick work of his obi and pulled his yukata open.

An amused huff left you when you saw he had no underwear. “You wanted this, didn’t you?”

Tengen blushed in embarrassment. “Maybe…” he muttered.

You smirked a little, “Impossible man.”

“Your impossible man, always yours.” He gave you a soft look, a smile gracing his handsome features. His arms remained relaxed, not reaching to pull down your underwear at all, content to be the perfect pillow princess.

That was fine, you wanted to set the pace anyway.

With a quick movement, your panties were off. You ground against his quickly-hardening member, your slick quickly covering him. His hands clenched into fists at his sides and he took a deep breath through his nose, eyes lidded.

Before he could stop you, you were lining him up to your entrance, going right for his cock like an overly eager virgin. The stretch burned like nothing else. You had to take your time, bullying more and more with quick shallow thrusts onto him. You kept going despite the pain for if you stopped, you wouldn’t be able to continue.

“You’re doing amazing, precious,” he ground out, doing his best not to slam you down onto his length. It’s been too long for you, and really, he should have prepared you, but you were so impatient you couldn’t last a second longer without him inside.

When you bottomed out, you sighed in relief, staying seated and cockwarming your husband for the first time in years. You hadn’t even noticed you started to weep quietly until Tengen’s thumbs wiped your tears away.

Something drew your attention though.

There was a small beauty mark near the heel of his right palm, right by his pulse point. Eyes focused on only that mark, your hand grasped his wrist gently and pulled it closer to your lips. You kissed the beauty mark, a feather-light brush of your lips, his heartbeat jumping at the action.

His eyes held yours prisoner when you looked up. The soft look he was giving you nearly made you tear up again, feeling too vulnerable. Instead of that, you rolled your hips.

The reaction was immediate, his head fell back, mouth open in a perfect ‘o’ at the spasm of your muscles. The movement stirred your guts uncomfortably, telling you you weren’t adjusted to him filling you up again yet.

“Fuuuhck-” he groaned. His hands gripped your hips in a tight hold, almost bruising. Tengen seemed to have realized what he was doing a moment later and let up, just holding you gently. “Ngh- you’re making me crazy, love.”

His cock kept twitching inside of you, and it had to be hard to hold back on fucking up into you. Well, you guessed this would be his punishment for all the crying you did today. You already knew you’d have a headache tomorrow.

“Can I-” his hesitant words drew your attention to him again, “can I touch you, please?” Tengen was biting his lip, his eyes practically filled with desperation.

You paused - and nodded.

One of his hands trailed down to your clit, circling it with his thumb gently. By this point, your slick reached it, so the caresses were smooth and pleasurable. He stared at where the two of you connected intently as if he was trying to memorize the sight.

Each little brush of his finger, you relaxed around his length more and more and one slow touch in particular made your hips jerk from the sudden pleasure. Your breath hitched in your throat and you closed your eyes.

“You were made for me,” Tengen murmured, not stopping his work. He had an urge, a need to worship you, to make you feel good, make you feel so good that you would never think of leaving him. You would never leave, you would stay right where you are, forever content to warm his cock inside your plush pussy, letting him be the sole reason for your life. He wanted that, craved it even - making you stay and be his wife again. But- “I don't deserve this, don't deserve you.”

When your eyes finally opened again, they were filled with unshed tears. “I love you, I never stopped loving you,” you choked out. Saying those words felt like absolution. Previously unnoticed heavy weight fell off your shoulders and you reached for both of his hands - stopping his slow motions on your clit - with your own, intertwining them in an intimate hold.

“Then make me yours again, please, please take me. I need it, I need you,” he told you in a hushed whisper, a flush taking over his face as he studied your figure above him.

You reveled in his attention, savored it, starting a slow pace, using your connected hands for support. “Mhm~” The drag of his thick cock against your sensitive walls felt amazing. You’d nearly forgotten how good it felt to have him inside of you, how good it felt to be linked together like this - two pieces of puzzle completing the whole picture.

“There- chase your pleasure-” he whimpered as you rolled your hips every time you bottomed out, desperate for more friction. “Use me, my body, my cock, whatever you need, precious."

You tried to find the right angle, the one that made you scream back when you were younger. “I’ve missed you so much-” your breath hitched in your throat when his tip hit just right inside of you and you closed your eyes. You let out a breathy Fuck when you repeated the action, your pussy spasming around him. Every sensation seemed heightened. You couldn’t get enough.

Now that you’ve hit your stride, your pace went from slow and sensual to quick and sloppy. Tengen offered all the support with his steady hands as you needed. The whole act was so familiar, yet new in so many ways. His breathing pattern was different while he was balls-deep in you; yours was too - your body was long ways from your top form when you were a teenager, but he seemed to be stronger than ever.

He appeared to be as lost in the pleasure as you were starting to be. “You look so beautiful- ngh- bouncing on my cock-!” he ground out between clenched teeth. “You’re so tight.”

His hips bucked up on accident, making you cry out. A coil was winding inside of you; you were balancing on the precipice of your first orgasm in what seemed like forever, sensitive to every small shift of your connected bodies. The anticipation of what was coming kept you going despite the burn in your thighs.

Tengen’s hands clenched yours tighter. You peeked at him with half-lidded eyes, still chasing your release urgently.

His mouth hung open, nearly drooling, chest heaving with soft pants; eyes clenched shut, brows furrowed, his entire expression as if he were in pain instead of rearranging your guts - as if he were the one who was getting his insides rearranged. A bright blush on his face was just a highlight of the whole picture.

The sight just hurled you closer to the edge with the speed of sound. Your pussy clung to his cock impossibly tight.

“Fuck- You’re close, I can feel it-” he said in a strained voice, almost wheezing. His eyes opened, tears falling from the intensity of his pleasure.

The thickly-wound knot snapped.

Your mouth fell open, agape. A loud stuttered moan echoed in the room, much more high-pitched than you thought yourself capable of. Tengen whimpered underneath you as you clutched his hands with a death-grip.

“There you go. You’re so beautiful…”

Your ears rang, his voice a muffled background noise. Your hips jerked involuntarily with another shock of pleasure, squeezing around him again. “Fu- precious - hah - you milk my cock just as good as I remember…”

You slowly came down from your high, drained. Your thighs trembled despite sitting your whole weight on his lap. Sweat ran down your back, your ribs and your hair stuck to your face yet you could care less when you looked your love in the eyes with a new clarity in your mind.

He always made you feel amazing - in bed and out of it. You would give this new form of marriage a chance. Once the three wives returned from their mission, you would give them a chance. All this, just for Tengen.

“Can I…?” The question was hesitant, and your heart swelled with affection for this man, for your husband. He was so gentle with you, as if you would break like glass if handled improperly.

“Use me for your pleasure, Tengen,” you smiled warmly.

“Oh lord-” His eyes nearly rolled back into his skull when you gave him permission so sweetly.

He grabbed you by your waist, lifting you a little, pace sloppy and so wet each thrust came with a loud squelch as he fucked up into you roughly.

“I- won’t- last-” his thrusts stuttered very quickly in his frantic race to finish fast. Poor Tengen must have been about to cum when you had your release, yet he held back to not overwhelm you. “Fuck!”

“Don’t hold back, give it to me. Cum, Tengen.”

“Oh god- Yes. Yes-” The sound he emitted was an unholy guttural moan, his whole body shook, tears gathering at his lash line. He pressed harshly against your cervix, spurts of cum painting your inner walls white and filling you to the brim.

You caught your breath slowly. “There is no god up here…”

Tengen grinned lazily at you and panted out, “... other than- Me. You- hah - you remembered.”

He kept rutting into you with very slow thrusts, shallow yet so deep, as if he wanted to force more of his cum inside. His cock kept twitching and his thighs shook, the muscles of his abdomen jumping and rolling underneath his skin.

His semen leaked out around him mixed with your juices. Only when pleasure turned into pain of overstimulation did he stop. “You make me dizzy. You’ve always made me so dizzy…” He pulled you down to him, your head against his chest and his arms encircling you in a blanket of safety and warmth.

You melted in his embrace, breathing in his scent combined with yours. The smell of sex was heady, and would have sent you both into another quick rut before your mission. Neither of you moved though, you kept his cock and cum warm and he kept your body warm, a perfect harmony of two lovers.

“We should clean up soon,” Tengen whispered, making no move to get up.

“I don’t want to go anywhere. I just want to stay here, in your arms…” Your words had a double meaning. Your husband was your soul’s mate, and as such, he picked up on both, understanding your meaning in between.

“Then stay, don't go.” Instead of moving you, he reached for the blanket and threw it over both of you. “I’m so lucky I have you back… The luckiest… I feel like I could fly. You bring Heaven down to me, precious,” he murmured, stroking your back gently.

The simple gesture brought back so many memories, though foggy as they may be. You decided that it wasn’t such a bad thing. You could look back once in a while, but you needed to go forward and rebuild what was broken. And you had the best helper for that - after all, who was stronger than the Great Shinobi Tengen.

“I love you, Uzui Tengen.”

The idea of a first wife coming home to three more has been living rent-free in my mind for months. I'm making it your problem.

There might be part 2 but only after my brain recuperates from this entire work.

Part 2

#desi writing #uzui tengen x reader #uzui tengen #tengen x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #smut #angst #KNY fic #demon slayer fic #kakushino

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dixons-sunshine · 22 days

Text

Do-It-All Salon | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Daryl loved his little family. He loved you and your daughter with his whole being. He’d do just about anything for the two of you, including letting his nails and face get painted by his daughter, and endure the pain that came with removing rubber elastics from his hair.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Alexandria, set post Saviour arc.

Warnings: None.

Word count: 1k.

A/N: @hannyhann requested some girl dad Daryl. I hope you like it!

The scene in front of you was both amusing and adorable. You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth at the sight that beheld you; your husband sitting on the ground with his face painted with various sorts of makeup, his hair tied up in multiple little ponytails, and his hand extended in front of him to have his nails get painted. The sight was so cute, you just had to get out the video camera you had found on a run to capture the moment.

Your three year old daughter, Hazel, innocently went about painting her father’s nails while happily babbling away. She was completely oblivious to the video camera, the amused looks you sent Daryl’s way, or the playful scowls he sent your way. There was no real heat behind his eyes, however. He knew that if the tables were turned, he’d be just as amused as you.

“Daddy, hand,” Hazel instructed him, motioning over to his other hand. She held a bottle of pink nail polish in her hand. She shook the bottle a couple of times, mimicking what she had seen you do a few times before, before opening it to reveal the tiny brush.

Daryl cocked an eyebrow at her choice of colour, but gave her his hand nonetheless. “Shouldn’t ya be usin’ blue? Y’know, since this hand s’coloured blue?” For added emphasis, he lifted his hand for her to see.

Hazel giggled and shook her hand. “Silly Daddy.” She offered nothing else. She left it at that, and simply started rather messily painting his nails.

Daryl raised his eyebrows at her, a small, amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He shared a look with you, both of you having to refrain from laughing at her explanation. Or, well, lack thereof.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, shaking his head, the small ponytails on his head swinging left to right with the motion. “M’real silly. Need’a jus’ be quiet and let the master work, huh?” Hazel giggled but said nothing, her face scrunched up in concentration while her hand worked to apply the nail polish to Daryl’s nails. Daryl smiled fondly. “How ‘bout we do yer Mama next?”

“Oh, no. I’m fine. My beauty appointment was yesterday.” For emphasis, you raised one of your hands in front of the camera and showed your own messily painted nails. “It’s Daddy’s turn today. I’m not scheduled for another appointment until Hazel is ready to have me again.”

“‘Orrow,” Hazel giggled, her eyes sparkling at her promise of giving you a makeover the next day.

“Tomorrow,” Daryl corrected her with a fond smile, chuckling when the three year old girl completely missed his nail and instead painted the skin of his finger.

Hazel looked up at her father. “‘Orrow,” she said, a concentrated look on her face as she tried to get it right.

Daryl shook his head. “Repeat after me, alright?” When Hazel nodded eagerly, he continued. “To—”

“To—” the three year old repeated determinedly.

“Morrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

“‘Orrow!” Hazel giggled happily, her eyes sparkling as she looked up at Daryl.

Daryl chuckled and shook his head. “We’ll keep workin’ on it.” His attention shifted towards you. He ducked his head shyly when he noticed the camera was pointed in his direction. “Ya had that thing pointed at me the whole time?”

“Yup,” you nodded with a small smile, redirecting the camera towards Hazel when you noticed her close the nail polish and reach down to grab the sticker book you had found for her on a run. “Oh, you’re in trouble now,” you warned him with a light laugh.

Daryl looked back up towards Hazel who was walking around the small, plastic table with the sticker book, and he laughed. “Oh, god. M’in trouble, ain’t I?” Daryl questioned, his amused, loving gaze resting on you.

“Oh, definitely,” you mused, your eyes drifting over to your daughter who remained blissfully unaware of the conversation her parents were having, too caught up in her own little world. “Stickers is part of the experience here at Hazel’s ‘do-it-all salon.”

“Daddy, still,” she instructed, carefully peeling a sticker from the small book and softly pressing it onto Daryl’s face. She pulled back, admired her handy work with a soft giggle, before peeling another sticker and repeating the process. Again, and again, and again. Soon enough, Daryl’s face was covered in small stickers, ranging from stars, smiley faces, and even little arrows. Once there was no more skin left to cover with her stickers, Hazel stepped back and laughed in delight, clapping her hands together in excitement. “Yay! Daddy pretty!” She turned towards you and raised her arms, a silent request to be picked up. “Mama, Daddy pretty!”

You laughed lightly, placed the video camera down on the dresser, and picked up your little girl. You placed a couple of kisses all over her face, eliciting a shriek of laughter from her. “Yeah, he looks really pretty. He looks like a princess.”

“Princess,” Hazel agreed with a toothy smile. Her small, chubby hands gently grabbed your face and brought it down to hers, rubbing her nose together with yours, an action you did a lot; one she knew meant ‘I love you’.

Daryl chuckled and shook his head. He knew that he probably looked ridiculous. If anybody in the community saw him like that, they would never be able to take him seriously ever again. However, as the archer looked over at you and Hazel, and saw the happy smiles on your faces, he knew that he would do anything to keep those smiles alive. He would even allow his daughter to paint his nails, do his hair in a way that would hurt to remove the hair ties, almost poke his eye out with the mascara brush, and have a face full of stickers. All to ensure his girls’ happiness.

Daryl Dixon lived for his girls, and nothing in the world would ever change that.

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reaper2187 · 5 months

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Regina george x masc reader

Regina George was the queen bee of North Shore High School. With her long blonde hair, perfect figure, and designer wardrobe, she was the epitome of popularity. She ruled the school with an iron fist, and no one dared to cross her. However, there was one person who dared to challenge her, and that was the new girl in town, Y/N.

Y/N was unlike any other girl at North Shore High. She had short hair, wore masculine clothes, and was not afraid to speak her mind. Her confidence and individuality caught Regina's attention from the first day she set foot in the school. But what really intrigued Regina was Y/N's complete disregard for her social status.

As Regina and her clique, the Plastics, watched Y/N from afar, they couldn't help but be curious about her. They had never seen anyone like her before. It was almost as if she didn't care about fitting into their high school hierarchy. And that's what made Regina want her even more.

One day, Regina decided to approach Y/N in the cafeteria during lunch. As she strutted over to her, all eyes were on the queen bee and the new girl. Y/N looked up and met Regina's gaze, not backing down or showing any signs of intimidation.

'Hey cutie, can I borrow your salt?' Regina asked, flashing her signature smile.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, unamused by Regina's flirting. 'Sure,' she replied, sliding the salt shaker over to her.

Regina smirked, taking note of Y/N's lack of interest in her charm. She sat down next to her and struck up a conversation, inundating her with compliments and trying to win her over. But Y/N remained unbothered, talking to Regina as if she was just another person.

After that lunch encounter, Regina found herself thinking about Y/N constantly. She had never met anyone who was so unimpressed by her status and beauty. It was a challenge that piqued her interest, and she was determined to make Y/N hers.

As the days went by, Regina continued to pursue Y/N, trying to get her to join the Plastics. She even set up a makeover session for her with her stylist and bought her designer clothes. But despite Regina's efforts, Y/N refused to conform to their standards of beauty and popularity.

Slowly but surely, Regina began to see the world through Y/N's eyes. She started to question why she felt the need to control and manipulate those around her. She had never truly been herself, always trying to fit into the mold of what society deemed as perfect. But Y/N didn't care about any of that, and it was refreshing to Regina.

One day, Regina invited Y/N to a party at her house. Y/N accepted, curious to see how the queen bee lived. As the night went on, Y/N found herself having a good time, despite the superficiality and drama of the party. But what really surprised her was when Regina pulled her aside and confessed her feelings for her.

'I know I can be a mean girl, but when I'm around you, I want to be better. You make me want to be a better person,' Regina said, looking into Y/N's eyes.

Y/N was taken aback by Regina's vulnerability, and for the first time, she saw the real person behind the queen bee facade. She couldn't deny her feelings for Regina either, and they shared a passionate kiss.

From that moment on, Regina and Y/N were inseparable. The Plastics were shocked when Regina announced that she was stepping down as queen bee and that Y/N would be taking her place. They couldn't understand why Regina would give up her power and popularity for someone like Y/N.

But Regina didn't care. She had found true happiness with Y/N. She no longer felt the need to be anyone else other than herself. And with Y/N by her side, she no longer craved the attention and validation of others.

As for Y/N, she had found love in the most unexpected place. She never thought she would fall for someone like Regina, but their love was undeniable. They were two individuals who had broken free from the confines of high school stereotypes and found solace in each other.

The once mighty queen bee and the rebellious new girl had defied all odds and created their own path. They didn't fit into any high school clique, but they found a home in each other's arms.

Years later, when they both looked back at their high school experience, they realized that it wasn't the popularity or the social hierarchy that mattered. It was the people who truly saw them for who they were and accepted them without judgement. And for Regina and Y/N, that person was each other.

#lesbian #wlw #wlw post #regina george x reader #regina george #regina george x fem!reader #reneé rapp x fem!reader #reneé rapp x reader #renee rapp #renee rapp x fem!reader #renee rapp x reader

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tarjapearce · 11 months

Note

You know the ‘girlfriend effect’ trend going on ? I feel like that would be mama and Miguel. Like Miguel having a horrible style and wearing the most outrageous terrible clothes and not knowing what to do with his hair or not doing any form of facial care routines (you how men are) until he meets our mama and she just helps him develop a style and find what works best for him but doing it in a way that isn’t insulting and belittling but rather caring and loving.

This is Pre-Soccer Family 🤭

Boyfriend Makeover

Ever since MJ's birthday party at Peter's, things had taken a turn between you and Miguel.

Something that had left him with the little seed of seeing you as many times as possible from now on, rooting and blooming within. And in truth, you couldn't wait to see him again as well.

He had this je ne sas quoi that drawn you in like bees to pollen. Like gasoline to a fire, and anything intrinsically related in nature.

When you went home to a little more intimate and girls only after party, you spilled the beans and Jessica slid a couple of bucks in MJ's direction when you were too busy fangirling and gushing like a teenager whose crush just noticed her for the first time ever.

"He tried to kiss me!"

"Miguel?"

"Yes!" You plopped on the bed with a nervous squeal.

"You two kissed?" MJ watched at Jessica eagerly, as if ready to receive more money from the secret bet they had done on who kissed who first.

"Nah, he gotta work for it. But, damn... I was holding back so badly. He looks like a good kisser."

Jessica giggled at your ecstatic state.

"Just kiss him, woman! Pretty sure he'd die on the spot if you do that"

And so you did. The first kiss had been nothing you had expected, A little fumble and clumsy but sweet. He was taken aback when you made the first move, but couldn't complain. He had sandwiched your face in between his big hands and gave you a kiss you only fantasized often, once the movie had finished in TV back on his apartment's living room.

Things just flowed from there. He once grabbed your hand as you ventured through the sea of people in the mall when you were shopping.

"Won't find you later, Chaparrita." (Little one)

"Well, if you're gonna hold my hand, then do it properly."

With an impish smile you entwined your fingers with his, he only flared an airy yet bashful chuckle as his hand tightened it's grip on yours.

----

Even though he had asked you to date him officially, the doubt in people's faces remained. Not that you cared, but seeing him particularly serious after a gathering meant that someone had said something either about you, or the both.

"Do I look awful to you?"

You truly weren't expecting something so trivial to upset him that way, sure there were things he could improve about himself that would just only add him a bonus to his already effortlessly gorgeous looks.

"What?. Who told you that?"

He shrugged and kept driving. His style was something basic and borderline boring, office like all the way. Like if the nerdiness refused to leave his body completely and had rioted big time and now was the ruling sovereign of his closet.

Sweatpants in different tones of gray and black, graphic tees that had endured through college time and other basic things, sneakers and a couple of shoes and boots. The only stylish sort of thing he had was a navy blue suit that ripped as he tried to slid it past his broad shoulders.

"Shit you hear around." He grumbled while driving.

"Well, if you don't like your style we could change it. I could help if you want to, of course."

"What would you change about it?"

"Even though I love when you wear your lab coat and those sweatpants together" You giggled and took his hand briefly, "I'd add more color to your wardrobe and other different textures. You'd look even more handsome with summer colors."

"It's not summer."

"I know, just saying I'd add a bit more color to it."

"Right. We can do that. What about eh, the... things you put on the face. Masks and shit?"

Your face lit up upon the questions he was throwing at you as he gestured to his face.

"What about them?"

"How do you use them?"

In truth, he had overheard some things behind his back. Him looking like a tired creep that always wore the same clothes, them surprised at you tolerating such lack of style, but what had affected him more than what he let on was hearing that you deserved more than just a greasy haired nerd guy in your life. Mostly said by guys that looked straight out of a photo shoot in Italy.

His hair hovered on his shoulders, either tied in a lazy man bun or simply slicked back. Skin rough and oily, a few ingrown hairs in his stubble. Some pimples here and there. As long as he was clean, like his clothes it had been more than enough for him so far. Contrary to you. Ever glowing, stylish and delicious smelling.

Hell, some of his clothes still smelled like you even if he washed them. But now that a new chapter of his life started with none else but you, he wanted to be better. He was already a bit self conscious about his overall looks, and didn't wanna add more to the list of things he already hated about himself, but for some reason you loved.

He wanted to increase the latter. And if a makeover was needed for you to be even more into him, he'd go under them. And what a better chance to do so when you were excited about it. Another excuse to spend the day together, really. Even if it meant to go under layers of things foreign to his skin or be switching into things in a secluded changing room.

"We could meet tomorrow at the mall, buy new clothes and spend the rest of the day pampering ourselves."

"Sounds scary."

"The only thing you gotta be afraid is what the lack of sun block does to the skin."

"I'm aware that cancer can be developed after the constant exposure to high UV lights."

"You're so sexy when you speak like that."

"I'm actually surprised you find me appealing given my lack of-"

"Ah don't ruin it, Miguelín. You know that's not why we got together."

"Still, I wanna be better. Can't look like a tired creep." You swatted his head gently with a deadpan in your eyes.

"Miguel, even if you wore an unicorn onesie, I'd still adore you the same and I'd definitely fuck you afterwards."

He snorted and looked at you with softened eyes.

"But the gesture is highly appreciated. I'm excited really. We get to spend the day together and have fun."

"Shopping day tomorrow then?"

"Of course!"

-----

You visited different stores, even took a mini photo shoot of the outfits you had picked together for him. He wasn't that into flashy or saturated prints. He was more of plain colors, and if something was printed it had to be minimum. Attention seeking was in the least of his priorities.

His confidence seemed to take a higher place the more clothes he tried and new compliments flew out your mouth.

You had him a blushing mess as you asked him to twirl for you only to slap his ass and give a rather thirsty yet loving comment on him. You already made those when he wore your favorite gray sweatpants. Nothing had changed really, except for one outfit that had your cheeks a bright red the more you stared .

Cotton plain navy blue polo shirt that adjusted perfectly on his upper frame, white pants that made a perfect job in accentuating his waist and white leather loafers. It was the winner of the day.

"Never in my life have I been envious of a shirt, until today."

You then went for the skin care. Exfoliants, moisturizers, masks and so many other tools he had the slightest idea they even existed. Even though you explained each and their functions, he had to take a break to let all sink in.

"How many times I must put all this in my face?"

"Twice a day. Morning and night before sleeping."

"Don't get me wrong but, how do you find time to do this?"

"It becomes a discipline over time. And now I can't live without it."

"If something's worth saying, I like the... uh, the scent and feeling that it leaves in your skin. It's nice."

He cleared his throat as you kept adding products to the basket.

"Why, thank you." You kissed his cheek as you both looked over the men section of skincare, "We gotta get you a proper shaving kit also. Razors only damage your skin. Wanna keep your beard?"

"Do you like it?"

"I don't mind it honestly. With or without it you look scrumptious." Your eyebrows wiggled at him and his ears turned a light shade of pink.

"Let's get it then."

----

His eyes were all teary and glossy the more you pulled the peel off mask from his sensitive skin.

"Ow! Ow, ya! Amor, ya!" You laughed silently as you stopped. Hips straddling him, face to face, masked with the pore cleansing charcoal product, smeared in your features.

You had tied his hair carefully to then teach him how to properly clean his face, after a session of much needed steam to relax and open his pores.

Also squeezed some tools as gently as possible to get gunk and black spots out, but even so had him squirming at the beginning, then you had taught him how to properly cleanse his face, and in what order each product had to be applied. He was genuinely interested at the components of each thing and how well they seemed to react on his skin. Secretly taking a picture of him while having his eyes closed.

"Relax Eddie Brock, we're almost done!"

"¿No te duele o qué?" (Does this even hurts for you?)

"We are Venom." You giggled but he just deadpanned,

"You're not funny. You're a psycho."

"After you do this a bunch of times it comes out easier and less painful."

To his horror, you peeled off the mask without much ows and hissing, like he was, cringing at the way the black and elastic thing abandoned your face, coming out in in a piece.

"It would've be a lot less painful but you put it on your eyelids and so damn close to the ears. The first places I told you to not put it on!"

"I don't know about these things-" He hissed as you pulled in a go the last remnants of the mask. A little whimper and a grunt came out later.

"Canija!" You kissed his face softly where the mask had been, trying to soothe the pain as he cussed.

"Please tell me we're done with that"

Instead of words you smooched his lips with a proud smile.

"We're done. Now let's get you some serums."

"You're not putting needles in my face, are you?"

"What? No. It's not that kind of serum. It's like vitamins for your skin in oily or creamy textures."

By the end of the day he had fallen asleep as you used your jade face roller on him, but woke up with a glowy and healthy looking skin. Even some pimples had diminished their redness. His tired face not only was less tired but looked like he had slept well for weeks. No longer oily and breaking out.

Despite the pain, it all had been worth it. But your shocked face upon seeing him well dressed in a cream button shirt, black pants and dress shoes, and a fresh haircut that would turn into his forever look; holding a bouquet of tulips before your door, was absolutely priceless.

Needless to say you didn't make it to the dinner date, too busy ravaging eachother to care.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #soccer family ⚽🕷️#Pre Soccer Family 🕷️🌷#t writes✨#Boyfriend Miguel #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara fanfiction

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danikamariewrites · 4 months

Text

Heist

Mob!Azriel x reader AU

Note: another day another Mob!Az fic for you all to think about teehee.

Warnings: mentions of violence and blood

You giggled as Azriel lightly nipped at your cheek, his hand trying to sneak into the bowl of cookie dough. “Az,” you laugh out, smacking his hand away. “You can have some later when the rest of the Boy Scouts show up.”

Azriel rolls his eyes at the nickname. “I’ve told you, we are not Boy Scouts, we are-”

“A highly trained and dangerous group of powerful families that are allied.” You say, mimicking the overused statement. “Yes, yes I know Azzy, geez.” You tease, bumping him with your hip.

Moving from his grasp you bustle around the kitchen grabbing ingredients and plates. Azriel’s kitchen was gorgeous, and criminally under utilized. When you moved in it was all black and white, barely any ingredients or extra appliances.

“Oh this won’t do.” You had told Azriel, demanding you go shopping for every and anything you’d ever need for a kitchen. You gave the place a complete makeover, painting the walls and cabinets a lovely sage green and replacing the countertops. Adding an island and dark wood table and cushions to the breakfast nook the room was complete.

Coming back to stand between Azriel and the island you start scooping out the cookies. “You really don’t have to do this, you know.” You shrug, a generous scoop of dough and chocolate chips falling from your spoon. “I want to. Plus, I never really got to bake since work took up too much time. And your meetings go on forever, you guys absolutely need snacks.”

Leaning down Azriel presses a kiss to the back of your head. “You’re amazing, my love.” He says softly. You lean back into his chest, tilting your head back to stare at his pretty face. Turning, you hold up a finger with dough on it. Azriel’s eyes light up at the treat, licking it from your finger. Pushing up on your toes you peck his lips, murmuring, “I love you.”

Before Azriel could pull you to him and go for a more heated kiss, Rhys walks in, clearing his throat. “They’re here Az.” He nods at his brother, signaling Rhys’s dismissal.

A heavy sigh leaves his nose. Holding your face, Azriel gives you one last kiss. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

An hour later you were balancing a tea tray laden with chocolate chip cookies in your hands. The guard at the door smiles at you, knocking and opening one of the double doors for you. You nod in thanks as you quietly make your way to the occupied half of the table.

It was a small group today. Only Helion, Eris, Kal and their second and third in commands, along with a few other key members of their organizations. Reaching between Helion and Rhysand, you gently place the tray in the middle of the table.

The men looked hesitant to reach for the snack at first, but also didn’t want to be rude. “Thank you, my love.” Azriel says, giving you a small smile from his place at the head of the table. “Of course,” you whisper.

Azriel leads the conversation back to their plans, “Now, we can’t stand for this. The Molina family made us look like fools and trust me gentleman, that will not happen again. This robbery has to be big.” Odd, you thought to yourself, Azriel’s MO isn’t home robberies.

The pictures of the mansion in question spread across the table caught your eye. It’s familiarity had you titling your head, wracking your brain for where you’d seen it before.

then it hit you. The paintings on the wall! You knew them because you delivered them! Your lips parted slightly in surprise at your memory.

You felt Helion’s attention on you as he asked, “What’s wrong?” Your eyes snap to his deep brown ones, cheeks tinting red in embarrassment. Azriel takes his tone as rude but you brush it off, knowing he’s just curious about what you’re seeing.

You look to Azriel, not knowing if you have the right to give your input in a meeting. You didn’t want to make Azriel seem less in charge or something.

Azriel gives you a soft, encouraging look. “Go ahead, y/n. Tell us what you see.” You nod at him, dragging the picture of the paintings toward you. “These paintings are fakes.” A confusion spreads over the room as a few huh’s sound around the table.

“My boss got his hands on the real ones somehow, these are like rare pieces, hell museums would kill for these. Before he sold them I honestly thought they were in the Louvre. But he sold them to Molina Jr. who also requested fakes to display, since he bragged so much about buying them. They aren’t very good fakes if you ask me though.”

Helion brought the image closer to his face, attempting his untrained eye to see the falsity of the paintings. Kal snatched it from him, giving him a you-don’t-know-shit-about-art look.

Conversation bubbles around Azriel but all he can focus on is you. You and your beautiful, passionate, intelligent mind.

“Where would he keep the real ones?” Eris asks, breaking up the conversations and Azriel’s concentration on you. Though that didn’t last long. As soon as you opened your mouth Azriel was laser focused on you.

You give Eris a knowing smirk, “His vault, where I helped deliver the paintings.” Cassian and Kal let out laughs or triumph as the others gave you approving looks. Rhysand unrolls the blueprints to the mansion in front of you. “Alright y/n, point us in the right direction.”

Two hours later the heist was planned perfectly thanks to you. You waited in Azriel’s office as he bid his guests goodbye. Kicked back, sitting in his kingly leather chair, your feet propped up on the desk.

Hearing the door click shut you perk up. Azriel grins, strutting over to you. Crossing his arms he leans against the desk in front of you. “I don’t think I could’ve planned that without you.” You shrug at the praise. “Eh, you would’ve gotten by.”

Azriel nudges your feet off the polished wood, chuckling at you. Lifting you up and pulling you into his lap you immediately lean against his chest, playing with the buttons on his shirt.

“You’re too modest, my love. Everyone was telling me how brilliant you are.” You giggle, burying your face deeper into Azriel’s chest at the compliment. Hooking his fingers under your chin, Az tilts your face up to meet his shimmering hazel gaze.

“My clever girl.” He hums, pressing his lips to yours. You slip your arms around his neck pulling him closer. Azriel stands, gently placing you on his desk. He nudges your thighs apart to stand between your legs, deepening the kiss. “I think you deserve a reward,” his voice had taken on a deep and seductive tone. That smirk promises a very pleasurable reward. Tugging on Azriel’s dark locks he pulls away from you, dropping to his knees.

——

Tonight is the big heist. When Azriel had kissed you goodbye you plastered a convincing smile on your face, trying to ignore your heart pounding so hard against your chest you thought it was trying to escape.

You were always nervous when Azriel went out with his men for a job. Pacing the TV room, more like a theater, you dug your toes into the carpet to focus on something other than Azriel. You had lots to keep you distracted like a book, your favorite show cued up, your phone. However, moving around was a necessity right this very second.

The first time Azriel went on a job after you moved in was a disaster. You had a panic attack so bad not even Baxian, your bodyguard, could calm you down. Baxian was on the verge of calling Azriel as he walked through the front door. It made him contemplate never leaving you again.

You still can’t decide if you’d rather Az not tell you and just be blissfully ignorant. Or if you would still worry if he was out until all hours of the night. You’d probably still worry but worse.

In the silence you paused at any creaking or popping that sounded in the house. About to settle on the couch to pick an activity, the unmistakable sound of the front door opening.

Staring at the doorway to the TV room you held your breath. You didn’t want to see Azriel if he was hurt. You didn’t think you could stomach the sight of his blood.

Footsteps grew louder and louder until Azriel was staring at you. He was unscathed. Safe. And home.

You let out a cry of relief, running into his open arms. Azriel pulls you flush to his body, tucking your head under his chin. You revel in his warm touch. A smile spreads across your lips at having him back home.

Pulling away, you stare up into his tired eyes. “Everything went ok?” You ask softly. Azriel nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “It went perfectly, all thanks to you my love.” He says, exhaustion lacing his voice.

“Come on you,” you squeeze him around the middle. “Let’s get you to bed, baby.” You move to his side, pulling him along. “Sounds perfect, my love.”

Tucking into bed you couldn’t shake this feeling in the pit of your stomach. Watching Az sleep peacefully you snuggle into his side, holding on to him. Just in case.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel fic #azriel imagine #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel #azriel #azriel fluff #azriel au #mob!azriel au #mob!azriel

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kurogxrix · 1 year

Note

That’s okay! Could I request daughter x Tonowari or daughter x Jake though?

This Family is Our Fortress

Jake sully x Daughter!reader x Neytiri

IN WHICH Dad!Jake and Mom!Neytiri comfort you after the boy that you loved has chosen another.

WC: 2.8k

Sweet dad!Jake shit because i need it in my life.

The Sully tent was just as lively as every single night, the booming voices of kids arguing over some irrelevant topic resonated in the background. Neytiri was busy peeling a few fruits for some sort of dessert while Neteyam helped his mother with the main dish, which she was more than happy with, don't get her wrong. Although usually, it would be you that would be helping her with the cooking pot, but you were not in the tent yet.

Neytiri moved her head back towards the rest of her kids that were playing some game that Tuk had forced them too. She watched as the two older kids completely let the youngest out, fighting over the game by themselves like children as Tuk was left to complain by herself. Though their dear father was never far away, and he just happens to have been unfortunate enough to have gotten caught by Tuk.

Neytiri had to put her knife down in an attempt to bring a hand up to her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter as she watched Jake fall victim to Tuk’s makeover. She tied ribbons of all shapes and sizes into his locs, opting for two silly looking pigtails that Jake surely complained about during the whole process. Eywa, it was moments like these that made Neytiri fall even more in-love with the man that had swooped her heart so many years ago.

She looked down at her half-peeled fruits before smiling wildly to herself, unbeknownst of the knowing look that her eldest son was giving her. After recollecting her sense, Neytiri turned her gaze towards the entrance of their tent and her ears raised at the sight of you. You were sitting on the bare, dirty floor of the High Camp.

Though your back was turned to her, she could see that you were fiddling with something in your hand. It was unlike you to stay out of family bonding time, because Eywa knew herself how much you hated being excluded. So to see you distancing yourself on purpose made concern rise into your mother’s chest. Her motherly instincts were ringing, but she had a better idea of who to call for the job.

She looked back towards Jake, who was now harboured a totally new hairstyle. Neytiri made a call for Jake as she watched his hair whip towards her. He wasted no time going to his wife, narrowly escaping the wrath of Tuk’s strong little fingers that pulled at the roots of his hair mercilessly.

“Your daughter is upset,” she stated, not once lifting her eyes from her work in fear of bursting out laughing at the sight of him so close. Jake looked at her quizzically as though she had just asked him the most complicated question, and she sighed annoyingly at his silence.

“That means you must go comfort your daughter, ma Jake.” she stated, this time looking straight into his eyes. Her cutting didn’t stop, and he was impressed at her precision and multitasking skills.

“I look straight out of a circus, think she’s gonna take me seriously like this?” he laughed, but Neytiri failed to reciprocate his amusement. Jake winced at the serious look on her face, fearing that he might’ve taken it a little too far. Though his shoulders visibly relaxed and fell back down when she only huffed and dropped her head back down to the bowl full of diced up fruits.

“Y’know it is not normal for her to be this quiet, she has not even stepped foot into our family tent!” Neytiri muttered, concern heavy in her voice. She turned her head towards where you sat, and Jake only followed in suit. His eyebrows furrowed at the sight of your back turned towards them, before standing up and wipping his hands unnecessarily on his lap.

“Don’t stress this Jake, s’okay, just a little conversation with your daughter.” he tried to calm himself down as he walked towards the tent doors, feeling himself pause as he hesitated behind you. Eywa, when was the last time that he’s had such a conversation with his own child? Jake couldn’t even remember for sure, and he knew that the one that he was about to have with you was not going to be light-hearted.

“What’s up, oeyä hì’i syulang?” you heard the anxious voice of your father suddenly from beside you, jumping a little at the suddenness. You smiled softly at the nickname that he has carried for you since birth, my little flower. Though it quickly fell as you glanced back at the bracelet in the palm of your hand, your lips churning into a frown once more.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on in that little head of yours?” he asked when he received no answer for his first question. “I know I must look silly right now but I can assure you that I'm 100 percent serious about this.” at his words, you looked at him swiftly. Retaining the need to laugh at his odd hairstyle that you were sure was Tuk’s creation was hard. He grunted as the corners of your mouth twitched when your eyes panned towards his hair, his ears falling down as he knew that you were internally making fun of him.

“It’s nothing dad, I'm fine.” you shook your head slowly, raising to your knees in an attempt to stand up and leave. Though Jake’s hand was quick to catch onto your forearm to drag you back down. His strength was indomitable even though he was not pulling you with his whole will, and you had no other choice then to submit. It was silent for a few minutes as you sat back down next to him, your leg crossed above the other.

“It’s just Naywe.“ his ears raised at the sound of the boy’s name, falling completely silent as he gave you his full attention. You hesitated before telling him the rest, considering if it was worth it to tell you dad such things. It was hard for you to express your feelings to anyone, let alone your own family. Jake cursed himself as his children had inherited his emotional constipation, which was clear in the way that Lo’ak refused to ever talk to them about his own feelings.

You felt a warm palm enveloped your own as you looked down to your hand, only to see your father’s larger one intertwining yours. He gave you a reassuring squeeze before you craned your neck to look back up at his face again, seeing the encouraging look on his face. You knew that it was just as hard for your father to discuss emotions just like it was for you and your little brother, and your heart soared at his dedication.

As a father, Jake knew that his job was to make his kids feel loved and understood. Though he failed miserably at it with his youngest son, he told himself that he’d try to be better for you all. Fatherhood was hard, he had to admit, but at the end of the day when he’d glance at his peacefully sleeping children all perched up on their hammocks, he knew that he wouldn’t exchange this life for any other.

“What about that boy?” your father asked. Jake knew that there was something going on between you and Naywe that reached further than the platonic line. Matter of fact everyone could see it, they were not blind. The boy would always walk you back home after a long day out, and sometimes you’d even return home with all sorts of new jewellery and attachments. His eyes can’t help but wander onto your head piece, one that he knew was undoubtedly crafted and gifted to you by the na’vi boy.

Jake wasn’t stupid to the omaticaya customs, just because he had impulsively bonded with Neytiri didn’t mean that he didn’t learn afterwards. He knew of na’vi mating customs and one of them was gift giving. Something that one has made by themselves to affirm their love, to show that the other person was the one that they had chosen.

At first it was hard to accept for your father, to see his daughter growing up so fast, see his hì’i syulang grow from the little girl that she once was into the woman that she is today. His heart hurt at the thought that soon you’d leave his home to your shared one with Naywe, but it seemed like Eywa had other plans for you.”

“I-I don’t know, I just thought that there was something special between us.”

“Of course there is, that boy is literally attached to your hip!” Jake tried to make you feel better despite not knowing what the real problem was yet, but it only seemed to aggravate things as he watched your lower lip wobble slightly.

‘Shit’ Jake thought as he watched you turn your head away from him, hiding your feelings far away from the eyes of your father. This was definitely not where he had meant to go with this conversation, but hey, parenthood is all about unexpected moments. Your father slung a hand over your shoulders, successfully pulling you into his torso as you hid your face in his chest.

He couldn’t see the way that your face was crumbling as you fought tears, but he could feel you shaking against him. Jake turned around to seek silent help from Neytiri, but she was too busy serving food to your siblings to even bat an eye towards him. Jake didn’t want you to think that he was incompetent as a father, even though you would never think such of your dad.

He was in all platitude, your hero. You looked up to your father much more than he knew of, but you’d never openly admit that to him. The side hug was just as much physical affection that he could give you without being awkward, but you’d take that over anything.

“You ready to talk about it?” Jake brought a hand to caress the delicate braids that your mother had just done a few days ago. Your hair accessories matched the ones in her hair, and Jake couldn’t help but smile at the thought. He knew of how much you loved your entire family, but the bond between a mother and a child is unlike no other. You are bonded to your mother by tsaheylu right after birth, so your relationship is deep.

For a second, Jake wished that it could have been the same with fathers. Maybe then he could have understood you better in this instance, so he would have known the exact things to tell you.

“He’s not mine anymore.” you sniffled as you looked down at the bracelet that you fiddled between your fingers. “But he was never even mine to begin with.” you explained to your father, who he listened to you talk as though a 14 year old teen listening to gossip. The relationship between Naywe and you was always complicated, but you knew that your feelings for the boy were solid. Even for a moment, you had allowed yourself to believe that so we’re his, but apparently it was for any other woman.

Naywe had only been courting you for a while, but you both had never really put any sort of title upon your relationship. You never thought that you needed it, because if he was courting you, it must’ve surely meant that he wanted to be yours, forever.

“He is with Zepii now, forever.” you observed as your father’s face scrunched up in realisation and you felt yourself crumbling again as you thought about it. Eywa, you had even invited the boy to your tent to have dinner once. You had presented him to your father, and it had taken you ages to muster up the courage to even ask. Now this is what he does after so many months of your devoted dedication?

Jake felt so many emotions running thick through his veins the moment that you had muttered the words. If Eywa hadn’t given him the strength right now he was sure that he would’ve up and left to beat the boy up. But no, that was unethical for a grown adult, let alone for an Olo’eyktan. He felt an aching feeling pinching at his chest as he watched his eldest daughter being so distraught in his arms, but no matter how much he urged to comfort you, the words just wouldn’t come out.

Jake watched as tears poured freely from your eyes, staining the smooth skin of your face. Though this time you didn’t try to hide away from your father, and his heart did a double take at the newfound trust. Now the side of your face was resting upon his torso as he continued to rack his hand through your braids silently. It’s not like you had expected your father to tell you all sorts of comforting words when you had ranted to him, because you knew that it was just as hard for him.

You were just happy to have such an understanding dad, you didn’t hear any words from him to know that he understood you, he saw you.

“Heard that my little warrior was upset, so I brought you your favourite fruits.” Neytiri’s voice burst from behind the both of you and you removed your face from its comfortable place on your father’s chest. You closed your eyes in an upside down smile as you were grateful for your parent's presence in your moment of sadness.

“One day you will find someone who truly values you, no need to feel desolated because of one boy.” your mother murmured to you, making it known that she had caught onto your conversation with her husband. Neytiri gave you a bowl full of your favourite fruit, and the gesture couldn’t help but raise a smile to your face. Oh and how much you adored this family.

Your fingers dug through the mountain of sticky fruit cubes as you picked up a random piece. You were just about to eat the piece of fruit when a sudden force upon your back made you double over, your diced up fruit piece flying from your hand and onto the dirty floor. If it hadn’t been for your mother catching your bowl, you were sure that you would’ve murdered whoever was behind you. You gasped loudly as little arms wrapped themselves around your neck from behind, and you knew by the little giggles who it was already.

Neytiri looked at Jake from behind Tuk that was perched up on your shoulder as he gave her one of those lovesick looks that you were glad you didn’t see. Neytiri leaned her head to the side as she looked at your father, speaking silently with her eyes to him. They were so sickeningly adorable that it made you want to puke the fruit that you had not even been able to enjoy yet because of your sister.

You felt your mother pat your thigh as she robbed you of your fruit bowl, motioning for you to stand up as she was heading back for the tent. Your father was next, and you reached behind to pass your arms over Tuk’s thighs, locking them securely under her knees to make sure that she didn’t fall.

Her legs instantly went to wrap over your torso given that she was much shorter than you. The sweet giggles of your baby sister made your heart flutter with newfound happiness as you stood up, jumping up slightly to reposition her.

Before you could even set foot into the tent though, your father stopped you by the shoulders. There was a warm smile plastered on his face at the sight of your own, and he brought a hand to rest on your cheek. His large thumb wiped all previous tears that had stained your skin, all up in one go. You fought the urge to lean into his large palm, but it seems like the yearning won over as you did so.

You stayed there for a while, wondering when would be the next time that your father would cherish you in such a way. It didn’t matter anyways if he didn’t hug you in the way that he had done today, because you knew that his love went past physical contact. He reminded you everytime that he was proud of you, and that was enough.

Even though you knew that your parents reconfort could only seize the pain of betrayal for so long, you were happy that they had been there for you anyways. And no matter how many days or weeks or even months that it takes for you to move on from the aching in your heart, you knew that your family would always be there for you.

#jake sully x daughter!reader #jake sully x reader #neytiri x reader #mom!neytiri x reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #sully!reader #atwow #avatar #dad!jake sully x reader #avatar fanfiction #avatar the way of water #sully family x reader

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soothinglee · 4 months

Text

| long distance makeover - riki nishimura x gn! reader - 413 wc✔︎

my notes⎯ i haven't wrote anything in awhile due to the pt.2 of the beomgyu fic so i just wanted to post something (i promise i havent forgotten about it, writers block is just terrible). warnings⎯ cursing - lowercase intended. songs⎯ espresso | sabrina carpenter (because its stuck in my head)

"okay, now pucker your lips like this."

"this is stupid."

"bitch pucker your lips."

the instant tone change sends his lips flying forward, and a look of uncertainty creases his eyebrows as he quickly taps his phone awake. he takes a glance at the time on his phone. 3:43 am, it reads. he has to be up in less than 4 hours for dance rehearsals yet he finds himself on facetime with you, trying to do a forceful make-over.

the lipstick in your hand traces over his lips through the screen, and a pleased smile graces your own as you shade into perfection. ni-ki would think that this was your job, to do his makeup. even some miles away.

for a moment you look away and he lets out a breath. his eyes droopy as he lays against the headboard to the bed in his hotel room. just outside the windows the sun meets the rooftops of the buildings and creates a blue hue. in a few hours it'll be completely up.

he stifles a yawn as you reemerge with a thick blue stick in your hands. "what the hell is that."

"y'know for an idol who always gets his makeup done, you sure are clueless."

he scoffs, complying to your hand motion by closing his eyes, "they handle the makeup, i just sit there and look pretty."

you let out a snort, "debatable- why are your eyelids moving so much? blink."

"it got in my eye!"

"stop being dramatic." with the mascara still open, you lean towards the camera to look at yourself in the reflection before applying some to your eyelashes. after blinking a couple of times you use the tip of your index finger to get rid of the blemishes. "what are you looking at?"

a sleepy smile curves on his lips as he lets his head connect with his shoulder. "you look pretty."

you lean out of frame to hide your own, "so do you, with your transparent makeup."

"be serious!"

"i am!" you pause a moment to cap your lipstick, "thank you. seriously."

a drowsy hum escapes him, after hours of trying to stay awake at the expense of your pamper sessions, he finally feels the fatigue set in for the first time in a while. "have fun at the party, keep your location on."

you laugh, zipping up your purse, "thank you, and you too asshole. don't trip dancing."

"i could say the same for you."

#enhypen niki #ni-ki x reader #ni-ki x you #ni-ki x y/n #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #soothinglee 🌱#x reader #x y/n #x you #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #kpop x you

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withahappyrefrain · 2 years

Text

He’s All That

Summary: Bob has always been shy, which has gotten in the way of meeting folks. So, his friends decide to give him an impromptu makeover.

Shoutout to @liz-allyn who came up with this idea and said “Abby, how have you not written this yet?” You’re not in this fandom, but I love you and love how we bonded over our childhood love of Bill Pullman

Warnings: Language, Rooster being a himbo, Phoenix having the majority of the group’s braincells, drinking, afab reader

Bob was shy.

Always was, always had been.

As a child, he found comfort in clinging to his mother's leg while she talked to other people. It allowed him to take in what was happening without being dragged into the conversation.

Of course, folks always noticed him. Always cooed as they kneeled down to exclaim, "Aren't you just a shy young thing!" before continuing the conversation with his mother.

Sometimes, he misses those days. Not the part about being a child. Moreso, he missed how folks would make the observation and just move on.

Now he had friends who could not take a hint.

"Just go talk to her!" Natasha badgered. Bob had hoped he could get away with tucking himself in the corner and stealing quick looks.

The group had decided to switch things up and go to a regular bar. It was a nice change, getting to wear civilian clothes instead of the khaki uniform. New sights and new faces.

One face in particular had stood out to Bob as soon as he walked into the place.

"I don't….I don't want to bother her. That would be rude," Bob stammered, staring down at the cup of peanuts in his hands.

He thought he was being subtle. Glancing over to steal looks and glimpses of her radiant smile. Offering to pick up drinks so he could walk by and hear that bright laugh that was sweeter than any love song he had ever heard.

Apparently not.

"Dude, she's been looking your way the whole night," Bradley commented, joining the two in the booth.

"She could have been looking at any one of us!" Bob whispered, hoping it would send the subtle message to everyone else in the group to quiet down. The amount of alcohol they had consumed had already impaired their ability to gauge the volume of their voice.

"I followed her eyes, they led directly to you," Mickey said before taking another sip of his beer, joining the already crowded booth, "Go talk to her."

"She's…she's with her friends! That would be rude!" Couldn't they see that Bob didn't have the backbone required for him to just waltz up and start a conversation? If he did, he wouldn’t still be sitting with them right now.

"So then wait until she gets the next round of drinks! It should be her turn soon," Natasha commented, narrowing her eyes on her backseater.

Why was he so aversive? The girl was practically perfect for Bob. Confident but not cocky. Wasn't afraid to be loud, but only when she needed to be. Sweet with her gingham sundress and the countless thank you’s she said to Penny, a hint of edge with how she stayed on top of her friends' stories and jokes. But not intimidating.

Bob had been looking with stars in his eyes. The lovesick look that adorned his face would have been cute, if that wasn't all he planned on doing that night. Natasha knew Bob and knew he wouldn't make a move without major encouragement.

"I-I don't want to bother her." Couldn't they get the hint? He was nervous, painfully so. Being able to waltz up to beautiful women and strike up a conversation was never in the cards for Bob. He'd stumble through his words, turning in a blushing, rambling mess, talking about the most random things, like the Lego set he just completed.

And who wanted that?

Bob could easily calculate a missile range on the fly. But talking to someone he found attractive?

Nope. Couldn't do that even if his life depended on it.

"It's not bothering if she's been eyeing ya," Bradley countered before taking another sip of his beer. Was he one to talk? Perhaps. But Bob didn’t need to know that.

"She came out to have a good time with her friends, I doubt she wants to talk to some random guy," Bob mumbled.

A collective sigh was heard from the squad. This wasn't unusual for Bob- trying to get him to talk to people he clearly found attractive was like pulling teeth.

"Alright baby on board, I'm already tired of this conversation. Either you talk to her within the next twenty minutes or I will," Hangman declared before grabbing Javy for another round of darts.

The group stared at Bob, who was now shifting in his seat, face bright red.

"C'mon Bob, are you really going to let that sweet girl deal with Bagman?" Phoenix practically begged her backseater.

Bob didn't want her to deal with that. He wanted to talk to her, to make her smile, to make her laugh.

But how could he compete with Hangman? The man was not only good looking, but he could get out a complete sentence with zero stuttering.

Bob knew exactly what would happen. He would stumble up to the beautiful woman who had stolen his heart with just one smile, barely able to get out his name. Once she saw he was incapable of talking without making a fool of himself, she'd find an excuse to walk away and go talk to someone like Hangman.

"Just go talk to her, tell her you think she has a great smile," Bradley offered. At this point, it was no longer Bob just being ‘Bob’. It was painful to watch.

Bob scoffed, "Her smile isn't great. It rivals the sun."

"Oh my god, just say that!" Natasha felt like she was talking to one of her many younger siblings, meaning the urge to smack Bob upside the head was growing stronger and stronger.

"I can't! I'm….." he sighed, "Okay look at me."

"Why-"

"Just look at me!" His cobalt eyes were narrowed, his thin lips formed into a tight line- Bob's adorable way of looking stern.

"Now look at Hangman," he instructed once his friends finally followed his order, "Now look back at me."

"Is something supposed to be happening?" Mickey whispered to Bradley, who simply shrugged.

"Notice the difference? Please tell me you see the difference," Bob practically begged.

"I mean yeah; Hangman would benefit from having someone tell him to sit the fuck down and you're a pleasant human being," Natasha laughed.

"He…" Bob signed, "There's a type of guy that girls usually go for and out of the two….it's not me."

"Bob! You're an amazing guy, and as a woman I can confirm that any lady would be lucky to have you," Natasha assured her friend.

"Nat, no offense but isn't your view kinda skewed since you don't like men?" Bradley whispered, receiving a deadly glare in response.

"Okay, well as someone who's actually in a relationship," now it was Mickey's turn to receive a death glare, this time from both Bradley and Natasha, "Cielo has told me so many times that she doesn't understand how you're single."

"Your girlfriend has also said she wants to adopt me, so that's like my mom saying she thinks I'm swell." Bob sighed, pondering if now was a good time to start drinking.

"What we're all trying to say Bob, is that you're a catch," Bradley stepped in, "You just need to grab her attention! I have a great song for that-"

"We are not singing a song again," Nat quickly snapped.

"My ears are still hurting from Coyote failing to hit every note," Mickey commented, pulling on his ear for added effect.

"Okay, if we're not doing a song- which would totally work by the way- what should we do then? Give him a makeover or something?"

"That might be the first intelligible thing you've said all day," Nat commented.

"Roo's onto something. We just need to spruce Bob up," Mickey said, analyzing his friend's current appearance.

"What do you mean-"

"Roo, go get the comb that I know you have in your car. Mick, get our friend a confidence booster shot,” Natasha ordered, already on board with the idea.

"What are we- Nat, where are we going?" Bob asked as his pilot began dragging him to the bathroom.

—----------------------------------------

"Just follow me. If we had more time, I would put on the Teen Movie Makeover Montage playlist I have saved on Spotify," Phoenix said, trying to reach for the buttons on his top and walk at the same time.

"You're what?!"

Growing up with three sisters and being in the military, Mickey had walked in on strange things.

The sight of his friends in the bathroom of the bar, Phoenix trying to do Bob's hair in the sink, Bob being forced to sit in a chair, dodging Phoenix's hands, and Rooster holding up two Hawaiian shirts…….was high up there on the list.

"Why do you have two shots?" Bradley asked, as if Mickey was somehow the strange one in this situation.

"Why do you have two Hawaiian shirts, in addition to the one you're already wearing?" Mickey retorted.

"One of them is for Bob."

"For the last time-stop that! I'm not wearing- I mean it, Natasha!" Bob hissed.

"Which one do you think is best? I think the orange and red one would bring out his eyes," Bradley commented, ignoring Natasha and Bob arguing.

"Bob, if you didn't put so much gel in your hair, this wouldn't be so damn difficult!" Nat snapped back.

"Dude, you have curly hair?" Mickey asked, walking over to the sink to inspect his friend and roommate's hair.

"Uh, I think it's wavy?" Bob replied. Half of his hair had been doused with sink water, as was the right upper side of his shirt.

"Cielo is gonna be so mad at you! You could have gone with us when she was helping me restock the hair care routine she created for me!" The level of betrayal was not quite what Mickey felt when Bob admitted to liking Star Wars more than Star Trek, but it was pretty close.

"You and your girlfriend are so cute, it makes me want to puke," Natasha muttered.

"I call dibs on the hair. You two can help him take the confidence booster shots," Mickey instructed his friends.

Phoenix took both shots, motioning at Bob to open his mouth.

"I'm not drinking-"

"Either you take them or I tell Bradshaw to put down the Hawaiian shirts and open your mouth for you."

Bob took the shots, nearly spitting out the liquor that was burning his throat and nose.

"Oh my god, that's awful. What the heck was that?" Bob asked between coughs.

"Confidence booster. Also known as tequila," Mickey grinned as he began scrunching water into Bob's hair.

"That's disgusting! Also how is any of this," Bob gestured to the strange site that was taking place in the bathroom, "supposed to help me?!"

"You need to switch up your look! And what better way than with a new hairdo?" Phoenix said.

"Plus, that tequila should start taking effect soon. Now, blue or red?" Bradley asked, motioning to the shirts.

"We are trying to make this girl notice him in a good way Bradley," Natasha teased as she finished unbuttoning Bob's navy shirt, revealing a white t-shirt underneath.

"Wait, I think the white t-shirt is a better look!"

"Bradshaw, your observation skills are unparalleled," Natasha muttered, voice dripping in sarcasm.

"It shows off your arms and your veins! A lot of women dig veins for some reason," Bradley remarked, observing his colleague and friend.

"Isn't that usually a sign of dehydration?"

"Considering how much he loves to drink Coke Zero, that checks out," Mickey commented.

"My arms feel bare," Bob rubbed an arm with his hand, not used to showing off. He still kept his shirt on at the beach.

"Okay, what do you think?" Mickey asked, Bob's hair now fully ungelled and several curls swooping over his forehead.

"I feel like I'm going to be sick," Bob commented, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all.

"That's just the tequila taking effect."

"Wait! It's just missing one more thing," Rooster leaned over, taking off Bob's glasses. He folded them and clipped them to the v-neck of Bob's shirt, much like one would with a pair of sunglasses

"I need those to see!"

"You'll be close enough to her, it'll be fine," Rooster said, despite the fact that was not how poor eyesight worked.

"Should we get him another shot?" Mickey whispered to Nat.

"I don't think he's used to this much alcohol, we don't want him throwing up on her shoes," Nat whispered.

"Wait, that's a thing?!" Bob all but yelled.

"Alright, let's get him out of here and find the future Mrs. Floyd."

—-------------------------------------------

Bob didn't curse that often.

But this was fucking stupid.

He was stumbling around the bar (because he couldn't see jack shit), trying to find this girl (who was probably already talking to Hangman) without getting in anyone's face or dry heaving from the three tequila shots he had been made to take (which was harder than it looked).

Bob felt ridiculous, he knew for certain that he looked ridiculous. Why did his friends think this would work? Why did he think this would work?

What would he even say? He wasn't confident like Hangman, charming like Coyote, coy like Phoenix, cheeky like Rooster, or romantic like Mickey.

He was just…..Bob.

Sure, family members had told him "Oh Robert, any lady would be lucky to have ya!" He had heard countless "You're adorable/delightful/so charming, how are you single?" from his friends and their significant others. It was an attempt to boost him up, make him feel good.

All it did was highlight the loneliness he felt, his inability to talk to someone he fancied, and his lack of luck when it came to finding someone he could potentially settle down with.

He had tried. Blind dates, dating apps, striking up a conversation at a bar. All had ended in disaster, with Bob still single at the end.

This was pointless, so with a heavy sigh, Bob turned around to head towards the door-

when he ran straight into someone.

Due to the height difference, their head went straight into Bob's broad chest. He bucked his knees to study himself, wrapping one arm around the waist of the other person and placing his other hand on the back of their thigh to steady them.

"I am so sorry!" A sweet, familiar voice said against the fabric of his t-shirt, sending vibrations all throughout his body.

The person looked up, revealing the most beautiful eyes Bob had ever seen.

Oh fuck it was her.

"A-are you okay?" He asked, eyes squinting so he could take in every detail of her face; every eyelash, mark, mole.

"I'm good, thanks for catching me!" It was then Bob realized his hands were still on her. He became all too aware of the fabric that draped her waist, even more aware of the soft skin of her bare thigh.

"I'm….I'm so sorry," he removed his hands from her body, taking a step back, "I um I should have watched where I'm going."

"I mean, it's hard to watch out for someone who's literally not in your line of vision," She giggled, bringing a hand up to her mouth. It was then Bob noticed the small outline of a moon inked on her inner wrist.

Bella Luna.

Somewhere, Bradley, Phoenix, and Mickey were all mouthing something for him to say.

Good thing he couldn't see jack shit.

"I should have been more careful," one of his hands reached up to the nape of his neck, running his hands through the curls and did she just bite her lip at me?

"So should I! Honestly, it's my fault," she began digging through her purse, "I really should be wearing these!"

Bob's mouth dropped as she pulled out a pair of black octagonal glasses and placed them on her face.

The frames were perfect, accentuating her gorgeous features, particularly her bright, doe-like eyes.

Bob could stare into those eyes for all of eternity. They were warm but also grounding, like the force of gravity that always pulled him back from sky to land.

He would never complain about being brought down if she was there on the ground.

"Oh my god, they're going to get married," Bradley remarked to Natasha and Mickey. The three were huddled together, watching from a distance.

"Just because she wears glasses too doesn't make her Bob's future wife," Natasha's eyes could not roll any harder.

"Nah, I have a knack for these things. Called it with Mickey and his girl and he's currently saving up for a ring. Also did you message her Aunt yet? Today's her birthday," Bradley asked the other WSO.

"Yeah….." Mickey said, giving the two pilots no confidence as he quickly pulled out his phone to type up a message.

"Well, it's only fitting I wear mine then," Bob said with a smile on his face, reaching down to grab his glasses. Whether it was the tequila or her presence that was putting him at ease, he didn't know. And he wasn't super concerned in regards to finding out.

Her eyes widened when Bob put his glasses on, "Oh my god! You're," she put a hand up to her forehead, as if she was smacking herself for not realizing it sooner, "Lieutenant Floyd! I am so sorry! I'm-I'm far-sighted and you didn't have your glasses on so I had no idea it was you I had-"

"Y-you know my name?" Bob asked, astounded that this angel in her adorable glasses knew who he was.

Her eyes widened at his question, heat rushing to her face, "Yeah, I um…I noticed you from across the bar, not that I was staring, it's just hard not to notice you…wait, that sounds bad! You're just really handsome and so-"

Bob felt a hand squeeze one of his shoulders, "She was asking who the guy in glasses was."

Bob turned his head and much to his (and everyone else's) surprise, there was Hangman standing there with a smirk.

Jake was only there long enough to establish his presence and flash a knowing wink to the woman who was now clearly flustered.

"I-I am so sorry," She stammered out, unable to look Bob in the eye.

"Why?" Bob asked. Usually he was the one apologizing in these types of situations. But he wasn't. He actually felt….pretty good? Was this what feeling confident was like?

She had displayed interest in him, asking for his name. Which confirmed that all those times he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, she was actually looking at him.

And that was when he had his glasses and gelled hair. She looked at him when he was Bob.

That made him feel pretty damn good.

"Plus, I've been looking for the moon to my stars for years. Would hate to see you go after we just met," He added, giving her a smile so soft it made her knees weak.

Her brows knit together in confusion, as Bob took off his watch. Confusion turned into astoundment when he revealed a cluster of three small stars, inked on his inner wrist.

He held it up to her tattooed wrist. She stared in silence.

Two separate tattoos. Now complete as one.

“Yeah, they’re getting married,” Jake commented, now standing with Mickey, Bradley, and Natasha.

"See? Even Hangman agrees with me!" Bradley exclaimed.

"A broken clock is right twice a day Bradshaw, don't get used to it."

She looked down at the inked skin- hers and Bob's. Then back at him, then down again.

The silence got to Bob, who began to follow his natural instincts: apologize.

Bob liked to think he wasn’t super corny. Sure, he always planned to bring roses weekly to his person. That was a given. But matching tattoos?

Maybe it was a bit too much.

"Can I buy you a drink?" She asked, unphased by his rambling.

"Sorry, that was really cheesy, I just always thought that the moon and stars go together better as a couple's tattoo than the moon and sun, because they don't ever meet and I just said couple's tattoos, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Can it be water? My friends made me take three tequila shots to help me talk to you, but all it's done is made the room start to spin," Bob asked, completely serious.

"Absolutely!" She found his hand with ease, threading her fingers through his, "My friends made me take two vodka shots as a 'confidence boost', so I would love some water right now."

"Lead the way, Luna." Bob couldn't help but smile at how the nickname caused the bridge of her nose to scrunch up in delight.

He'd do anything to see it again.

Something was telling him the probability of that was extremely likely.

Call it luck or confidence. Either way, Bob Floyd felt good.

________________________________________

@chxosunbound @heartsforts @lt-bradshaw @soverign-lights @mymamalife @bobfloydsbabe

#my writing #Bob Floyd #robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd imagine #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd fic #robert bob floyd fluff #robert bob floyd fic #Lewis Pullman

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