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cashmoneyyysstuff · 11 months ago

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dinner prep engagement ♡

a/n : aaaand its finally here, the final part of the ring pop proposal miniseries after decades !!!! im sorry it took me so long to write this final part yall, i just finally felt enough inspo to write it and im super happy w how it came out ! i hope yall do too ! lemme know if you wanna be added to the taglist ! much luv xx

fem reader, literally pure fluff between mama n son, katsuki gets emotional very quickly bc i believe he does and you cannot make me think otherwise, a lil emotional but pure sweetness, mentions of making dinner, lmk if i missed sum else !!

this time, mitsuki has no idea what her son is planning. sure she’s had her hopes for years now, and her suspicions, but nothing truly concrete.

that is, until she gets a call in the middle of the night.

"katsuki..hello ?" she answers groggily, heaving a sigh and rubbing at her eyes. she checks next to her to make sure she hasn't woken her husband up, her eyes dart over to her digital clock " 'ts one in the morning."

"uh..hey." her son's gruff voice sounds over the phone, she raises a brow at his hesitant tone of voice, but she let's him continue "yeah, i know. sorry.." he mumbles out.

the older woman shakes her head affectionately "it's fine..is there something you wanted to talk about ?"

it's silent on the other end for a while until katsuki mumbles something. "katsuki, you know i can't hear you if you don't speak up." she scolds lightly, causing him to growl under his breath.

"not..not right now, no--just..can i come over tomorrow ?"

taking in her silence for hesitance he continues " it's nothin' bad..i just--feel like it's something i needa say face to face, i guess.."

"okay..yeah, of course. you know you can come over whenever you want." she urges "is yn comin' along ?"

"no, she isn't." she can practically hear his eye roll and it makes her smirk "she'll be busy tomorrow anyway so, not this time. i'll tell her you said hello though, since you're always tellin' me to."

she's about to retort when katsuki speaks again, only not to her. she hears what she knows is your voice quietly chatting with him as he reassures you that he'll be right there with you and for you to go back to bed. the soft tone in his voice makes her eyes soften.

never could she ever have imagined her katsuki ever speaking so softly to anyone, because her katsuki is, despite having calmed down over the years, still quite the brat. (she's pretty sure she knows where he gets it from now..) he's still temperamental when interviewers and journalists get on his nerves. he's still awfully moody , but he's different now. he's just a little bit gentler with the way he handles kids or older women who's cats have gotten stuck in trees. complaining that this isn't his damn job but still doing it anyway with utmost care as the kitties sink their sharp claws into his skin or cling to him for warmth.

he's a still a little rough around the edges but it's the thought that counts. he's different than when he was younger, but he still is the most different with you. his rough and gruff voice that he uses to bark out orders and complain, complain, complain, he uses so softly around you, keeping you as calm and sleepy as possible. it's not perfect, but he manages to usher you back to your room to sleep, and that makes the thought count so much more.

"m'gonna go now." he warns, his mother hums in agreement, telling him she'll see him tomorrow and he reciprocates the goodbye.

"night, ma."

"night, kiddo." she grins, a happy sigh leaving her when she hangs up the call and lays back down. cozying herself up next to her husband.

she's had her suspicions and her hopes for a while now, but she can't be too sure what her son could possibly want from her tomorrow.

katsuki comes back home like he's never left.

the day goes like any other day would've went a few years ago when he was still living in the family home. mitsuki almost expects her son to run off upstairs to do his homework.

he greets his dad with a half hug, and is forced into a tight embrace by his mother, which he grumbles about. grumbles turning into a growl when she grips his cheek, scolding him for not greeting his mother properly.

it's a lot of catching up from the few months he's been busy with hero work. talking about his latests achievements and his quick climbing of the hero ranks, accompanied with barely suppressed smiles and softened eyes when you're brought up. mitsuki remembers how nervous he'd been when he'd told her he was planning on asking you to move in with him, so she's happy to hear from the both of you, since she has your number and you like to catch up every now and then, that everything was going well. though she already knew it would.

katsuki volunteered to help with dinner, his mother happily agreeing saying she could use some help. it makes her a little bit nostalgic and she wills herself not to get teary eyed at how much her son has grown.

but she sees that the opportunity has presented itself to bring up the topic that's been on the tip of her tongue the entire day now.

"so.." she sings "you wanted to talk about something, right ?"

katsuki stiffens like he'd forgotten, although his expression stays the same besides the slight squint of his eyes. the rhythmic cutting of vegetables has stopped and it takes him a moment before he speaks quietly like he's revealing a secret.

"i wanna ask yn to marry me."

oh.

so that was it.

"oh." she breathes immediately. a broad smile slowly grows onto her face and she beams "took you long enough, ya brat !" she exclaims, slapping her sons muscular arm. he growls lowly at her, leaning away from her though she remains undeterred. poking at his sides while he tries to smack her hands away.

finally, she relents "when are you gonna ask ?" she asks excitedly. katsuki huffs, eyebrows still heavily furrowed from her earlier attack. he turns back to the cutting board "soon. i arranged my schedule and we'll both be free, so in two weeks from now."

"you already have a ring ?"

he grunts in agreement. and mitsuki besides being proud of the fact her hunch was right, feels her heart warms at the burst of nostalgia of her little boy. her katsuki, kicking his feet in the backseat of her car. tightly gripping his bag of ring pop candies he'd give to you the next day. her little katsuki, who'd proudly claimed he was going to marry you when he grew up in that very same car, exclaiming that he'd proposed to you with those very same candies he'd almost had a tantrum over her not getting.

her little boy, who'd gotten oh so big, and so, so much more enamoured with you.

"good." she utters sweetly, voice just a bit wobbly "good. that's great, katsuki."

he nods to himself " i've thought about it for a while now..long while." he scoffs to himself, eyes focused on the cutting board in front of him. "got the whole day planned out too."

"yeah ?" he nods. her eyes soften as he speaks mostly to himself, he's had this little self hype up habit ever since he was a boy. trying to calm himself down and reassure himself. it's a smart move, but as strong and mature as he is, katsuki is nothing more than human. and anxieties can creep up on the best of us.

she's seen it before, and she sees it again when he bites his bottom lip in thought, and she smiles softly.

and again, she coaxes him into it " that sounds nice, looks like you got it all planned out, huh?"

and he nods again. but it doesn't take him, long before he breaks.

"..what if she says no ?"

and mitsuki wants to laugh. she really does, because the thought of you ever saying no to him sounds absolutely ridiculous to her. she snorts. shaking her head while her son looks at her incredulously.

"katsuki.." she tuts, chuckling to herself before she looks up at him. "you've got absolutely nothing to worry about. you've got it."

his eyes widen, then her son's expression drops as he raises a brow "how do you know that ?" his words make her smile widen this much more and she really wants to laugh.

how does she know. she scoffs

she knows because she knows him. she knows her katsuki better than anyone else, he's her son. she knows he's rude, rowdy, quipy, temperamental and everything else. he's all of that and so much more.

and yet you still love him. you're still so incredibly patient with him, you still offer him all of your kindness despite him once confessing to her he doesn't understand how you do. despite all of the times he's messed up, the times he's fallen down, you stay by his side you care for him, you care about him.

she knows her katsuki is absolutely infatuated with you, he always has been. from tantrums about being separated in class and knowing your favourite ice cream flavour to him being overly protective over you when you were paired up with your lab partner that ended up not being him and to him wearing the stupid stuffy tux mitsuki tailor made for him to take you to prom.

you've always been his number one best friend, but he's always been yours as well : he loves you, but you love him just as much.

and so mitsuki smiles "call it mother's intuition. and, not to brag, but i think most of my hunches have been right by now" and it widens when katsuki scoffs and rolls his eyes at her boasting, another bratty little habit he has that he's practically mastered over the years. she sighs, spreading her arms out towards him "well come over here. you've gone and gotten so damn tall, i can't reach you myself !" her son rolls his eyes again, but he scoffs softly to himself and with a shake of his head, he closes the distance and hunches over to hug his mother. she wraps her arms around him tightly and he grumbles when she squeezes but he doesn't try to get away.

"there's nothing for you to worry about, katsuki. absolutely nothing." she repeats, rubbing his back. "you love each other, and that's more than enough. just be yourself, it's been working out for you this far..somehow." she jests. katsuki scoffs indignantly but they both end up chuckling about it. after a few more seconds they pull away and mitsuki pats her son's chest with a sniffle. right on top of his heart that she knows, she's seen, has gone through oh so much.

but still remained entirely yours throughout all the years and still so so so enamoured with you.

gripping onto his shoulders, she whispers "you got this." the glossiness in his eyes is impossible to miss, he's always cried very easily. but she guesses she mirrors his expression exactly. her son is the spitting image of her after all. she places a hand on his cheek and he leans into it.

"thanks, ma" he whispers sincerely. and mitsuki feels her heart soar.

"any time."

during dinner, katsuki announces the news to his father. who after getting over his shock immediately wraps his son into a hug. congratulating him and encouraging him with teary eyes, she knows where katsuki gets that from, before they all settle down to have dinner before katsuki leaves a few hours later. waving off his mother's insistence to pass you a greeting with a grumbled acknowledgement.

she shakes her head as her and her husband watch him drive off but her heart is full of pride.

"we raised a killer son didn't we ?" she giggles looking back at masaru, who agrees with a smile as they share a laugh.

and the next time you both come over, you're giddy. unable to keep your excitement in check as you keep excitedly looking back at katsuki, who finally relents with an affectionate sigh and you happily show off you're ringed finger with a squeal.

mitsuki squeals right back, wrapping you up in the tightest bear hug she could. masaru takes his turn hugging you, sweetly congratulating you both. of course, they'll tell you they both new in advance, but that was all for later.

sure, she didn't know what her son was planning in advance, but she had her hunches and her funny feeling from all those years ago that you'd be sticking around. she guesses it's good enough that she was the first to be told.

she sends her son a proud and teasing smile when they make eye contact. he rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face doesn't fade as he watches you talk with his father. she doesn't have to say a single word for him to know what she's saying.

i told you so.

taglist *if your name is pink i unfortunately couldn’t tag you :(( : @73isthebestnumber @gold24fish @m-inluv @katsuisbaby @teddiiursulas-ink @moonbabysstuff @brandydel @queenpiranhadon @chuugarettes @starieq @aishio14 @andysdrafts @hyunorue @touyasprettydoll @itsfiive @annoying-bitxh @h0nestly-though @atinytiredpanromantic @mikalame @itzjustj-1000 @deepressed @evam23 @erenstitanweave @m-0ona @chaoticgay13 @lotusstarr @koreluvsspring @giannitaa @waterstarz @nayeonsdoormat @the-crazy-star-12 @kovu-bunnbunn @kvk6433gkcigv @coolgirl458 @beekeepingageissome

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fallenbratfiction · 2 months ago

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no one bullies my kid ~ dad!bucky

Your seven-year-old gets bullied at school and Bucky cannot allow this ever happening again. Bucky threatens a child here.

masterlist faq

A/N: I thought of this before going to bed and I am a sucker for domestic and dad! bucky. Stop I melted this was supposed to be a funny "haha imagine Bucky threatening a child" and it turned into more before I realized.

mentions: protective dad!bucky, domestic fluff, soft!bucky, ex-assassin now full-time dad, school drama, bucky threatened a child (but like, gently), supportive uncle steve, found family feels, comfort and hugs. Let me know if I missed any mentions, I'll be sure to add them.

minors dni with me or my blog. i am not responsible for what you choose to consume.

do not copy, translate or claim any of my work as your own.

You knew something was wrong the second the front door opened. Not just because it slammed, but because your kid—your sweet, funny little seven-year-old—stormed in, backpack half unzipped, eyes glassy and red.

Bucky was already rising from the couch. “Hey. What happened, kid?”

No answer. Just the sound of a sniff and quick feet heading down the hall to their room, slamming that door too. You exchanged a glance with Bucky. You could see the shift in him. His jaw set, shoulders stiff. Protective-mode fully activated.

“I got it,” he said. “Just… gimme a second.”

You stood in the hallway, watching as he knocked gently on the door. “Pal? C’mon. Tell me what’s goin’ on.”

A muffled voice came through. “Nothing.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing.” His voice softened. “I can’t fix it if I don’t know, buddy.”

A pause. Then, quieter: “A kid at school said I’m weird. That I talk too much. Said I only have friends because they feel bad for me.”

That was it.

You watched Bucky close his eyes, just for a second. Deep breath. Controlled. Then he stepped into the room. You followed after, in time to see him kneel by the bed, one hand brushing your kid’s hair back and resting his hand on your kid's shoulder.

“Listen to me,” he said. “You are not weird. You are brilliant. You’re funny. You’ve got more heart than most grown adults I know. And if some little punk can’t see that—then that’s on them. Not you.”

Your kid blinked at him, lip trembling. “You’re just saying that ‘cause you have to.”

Bucky grinned. “Nope. I’m sayin’ it ‘cause it’s true.”

They nodded slowly, still sad—but calmer.

“Now,” Bucky added, standing up and rolling his shoulders like he was heading into battle, “What’s this kid’s name?”

You raised your brows. “James.”

“I’m just asking.” He shot you a look. “Just for… situational awareness.”

“Bucky, you cannot threaten a child.”

“I’m not gonna hurt him,” Bucky said innocently. “But if I accidentally show up at pickup tomorrow wearing full tactical gear and staring him down with my metal arm on display—well. That’s not technically a threat, is it?”

“James.”

“Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll wear a hoodie.”

----------------NEXT DAY AT PICK UP

You were standing by the car when Bucky walked back from the school gates, calm but with purpose in every step. You hadn’t seen the interaction—only caught the tail end, where one terrified eleven-year-old shrunk about five inches under the weight of Bucky’s death-glare and murmured something like “Sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

Bucky slid into the driver’s seat like a man who had just conducted a very civil interrogation.

“You didn’t punch him, right?” you asked, eyebrow raised.

“Nope.”

“Bucky.”

“I didn’t. I talked.”

You gave him a look.

He shrugged. “With my eyes.”

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

Later that afternoon, your kid stood barefoot in the backyard, still a little shaken but smiling. Bucky was crouched beside them in the grass, arm around their shoulders.

“Okay,” he said. “We’re not looking for a fight, alright? But if anyone lays a hand on you—anyone—you make sure they never forget it.”

Your kid blinked up at him. “But I’m small.”

Bucky grinned. “You think size matters? Lemme tell you something.” He tapped their chest gently. “This? This is what counts.”

Your kid nodded slowly, taking it all in.

Then Bucky stood up, pulling them gently to their feet.

“C’mere, I’m gonna show you something I taught your uncle Steve when he was getting picked on when we were younger.”

Your seven-year-old lit up. “UNCLE STEVE GOT BULLIED?!”

“Oh yeah. All the time.”

“But he’s huge!”

“He wasn’t always huge. He was tiny. Like… coat rack with a mouth tiny.”

“Did he cry?”

“Only when I wasn’t there to see it,” Bucky said with a wink. “But then I taught him how to throw a punch. Just like this.”

He adjusted their stance, nudged their feet into position, lifted their hands.

“Now, aim right here,” Bucky said, pointing to the chin of an imaginary opponent. “This is the off switch.”

Your kid grinned, winding up like a windmill.

“Whoa, whoa, not like that,” Bucky laughed. “You’re not trying to stir soup, kid. Straight shot. Wrist straight. No thumb inside the fist unless you want it broken.”

You watched from the porch as they practiced the motion again and again, each time a little better, a little prouder.

Until finally your kid turned around and asked, “Did it work? Did Uncle Steve stop getting bullied after that?”

Bucky gave a soft laugh, like something old and golden was buried in his memory.

“Eventually. But mostly ‘cause people got tired of him standing back up.”

You were halfway through your coffee when your phone buzzed with a call from the school. You answered it expecting something minor—missed homework or permission slips.

What you got was: “Hi, yes, we’re going to need both you and Mr. Barnes to come in. There’s been a complaint. It’s… regarding a threat made toward a student.”

You paused. Turned toward Bucky. “Did you threaten a child?”

“I told him to watch how he talks to people smaller than him.”

“That is a threat.”

He took a sip of coffee. “That’s character development.”

---------------------- PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE

You walked in first. Bucky followed behind you, in full “don’t fuck with me” mode—leather jacket, sleeves rolled up just enough to show a flash of metal, sunglasses still on indoors.

Inside the office sat the principal, Mrs. Avery. Across from her were the boy’s parents: a very polished, very irritated couple, arms crossed, child nestled between them like some poor traumatized porcelain doll.

You sat down. Bucky didn’t.

“Mr. Barnes,” Mrs. Avery began, already stiff. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“Because I told a disrespectful little shit to keep my kid’s name out of his mouth?”

You kicked his foot under the table. He winced, then added, “—with kindness. Obviously.”

The other parents gasped. The mom clutched her pearls. “You intimidated our son.”

Bucky tilted his head. “Did I raise my voice?”

“No,” the dad muttered.

“Did I touch him?”

“No.”

“Then maybe the real problem is that your son isn’t used to being held accountable.”

You covered your mouth and closed your eyes in a prayer. God give me strength.

Mrs. Avery pinched the bridge of her nose. “Mr. Barnes, while I understand your protective instincts, we have a zero-tolerance policy for adults confronting students.”

Bucky finally sat, slow and measured. “And what’s your policy on students harassing other students until they come home crying?”

The room went still.

You could see the principal falter. The bully’s parents looked like they wanted to say something, but… couldn’t. Because their perfect little angel had been caught being an asshole.

“You don’t have to like me,” Bucky said, voice calm. “But you will respect the fact that I’m not gonna sit back and watch my kid get picked on. Not by your kid, not by any kid. So if I have to be the villain in your story to make sure mine doesn’t end up afraid to go to school? Fine. I’ve been worse.”

You exhaled—low-key impressed, high-key terrified of the future PTA meetings.

Mrs. Avery cleared her throat. “Let’s… move forward with a mediation plan for the kids.”

Bucky raised his brow. “Does it involve their kid apologizing?”

Later that day, after the incident at the round table, you and Bucky waited by the school gates for pickup.

You were still reeling from the chaos. Bucky looked relaxed, leaning against a tree like he hadn’t just verbally disarmed two overprotective yuppies and a principal in one sitting.

Your kid spotted you and bolted over.

“Dad!” they grinned, cheeks flushed with excitement. “Did you really say he needed to keep my name out of his mouth?!”

Bucky smirked. “Who told you that?”

“Ms. Tanner. She was in the hallway. She said you had serious Batman energy.”

You burst out laughing. Bucky looked far too pleased.

Then your kid, grinning even bigger, reached out for a high five—and Bucky gave it like it was the most important handshake of his life.

“I love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, kid.”

And before Bucky could even react, your kid threw their arms around his waist in a tight, full-body hug—face pressed against his torso, like they were trying to fuse into him.

Bucky froze for a second, like the moment knocked the air out of him.

Then slowly—gently—he wrapped one arm around their shoulders, the other patting their back in an awkward rhythm that melted into something steady. Familiar. His hand settled there, resting between their shoulder blades, then crouched down instinctively, arms open.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice low. “You’re my whole world, y’know that?”

Your kid didn’t answer—just buried his face in Bucky's neck.

Tiny arms around his shoulders, little fingers curled in his shirt.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, one hand sliding up to cup the back of their head. “I’ve always got you.”

And for once, Bucky let himself stand there, arms around something that was safe and his and real, without thinking about what came before or what might come after.

You stood there by the car, heart basically melting, watching your reformed-assassin husband get completely undone by a kid that fit perfectly in his arms.

Bucky pressed his cheek against their temple, eyes fluttering shut for a second like he was remembering how to breathe—then he shifted his weight, stood, and lifted him right off the ground.

"Let's go home, yeah?"

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

Saturday morning. Backyard. Bucky’s got your kid out again practicing footwork—slow, controlled moves. You’re watching from the porch with coffee, amused at how serious he looks for a game of “self-defense 101.”

And then: the sound of a very familiar motorcycle pulls up.

Your kid’s face lights up.

“UNCLE STEEEEEVE!”

Steve steps off the bike in jeans and a Henley like a walking golden-hour ad. He barely has time to take his helmet off before your kid flings themselves at him.

“Oof—hey there, firecracker!”

Bucky crosses his arms, smirking. “Took you long enough.”

Steve shoots him a look. “You threatened a child. I had to reschedule three meetings to come deal with the PR disaster.”

“He had it coming.”

“I know. That’s why I brought some pie.”

Later, your kid pulls Steve aside while Bucky sets up a makeshift punching bag.

“Uncle Steve? Is it true you got bullied?”

Steve sits on the steps, stretches his legs out with a soft smile. “Sure is. All the time.”

“But you’re Captain America.”

He chuckles. “Wasn’t always. Used to be small. Sickly. Couldn’t throw a punch without falling over.”

Your kid’s mouth falls open. “No way.”

Steve leans in, tapping their chest gently. “This is what got me through. Not muscles. Not a shield. Just being brave, even when I was scared.”

They blink up at him. “Did Dad teach you how to fight?”

Steve grins. “Oh yeah. First punch I ever threw? Your dad showed me how. Got my nose broken anyway, but I looked cool doing it.”

Bucky, from across the yard: “You cried for fifteen minutes.”

“Character development,” Steve deadpans.

That night, Steve stays for dinner. Bucky grills. You pour some wine. The kid is showing off his “combat stance” in the living room, wobbling slightly but proud as hell.

Steve leans over to you in the kitchen. “Y’know, for a guy who used to be a war assassin, Buck’s actually doing okay.”

You smile, watching Bucky gently correct your kid’s form with a patience he pretends not to have.

“He’s not so bad, huh?”

Steve snorts. “Not bad at all. Just… terrifying.”

Then, from the living room:

“Dad, what if the bully tries again?”

Bucky, calm as ever, flipping a burger on the grill. “Then he’s gonna learn why they call me the Winter Soldier.”

Record scratch.

You and Steve in unison

“NO.” “ABSOLUTELY NOT.”

Had a good laugh writing this piece, i hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it!! Feedback is always welcome!

Shares, Reblogs, Likes & Comments help stories grow! I'm thankful for every single one of them! ✨✨🩷

#domestic!bucky #dad!bucky #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes comfort #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes au #found family #bucky found family #bucky dad #dad!bucky thoughts #domestic!bucky thoughts

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devilfic · 10 months ago

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you know what. I think battinson is such an enthusiastic kisser

both his kisses with selina were kind of this dreamy, almost out-of-body experience where selina had him under her spell and he was just sort of helplessly in love with her so he could do naught but follow her lead,,, but I like imagining what it'd be like if HE initiated kissing his partner

like there's the more confident bruce, a few more years into being batman bruce, where he leans in during a lull of good conversation and he's smiling and suave and controlled but like. bruce in year 2? bruce fresh off selina and realizing he could maybe make time for a relationship? realizing how much he missed being touched? somebody call animal control cause this bat is in heat

before he leans in, he watches you like you'll disappear. his eyes are wide open!! he doesn't want to miss a thing!!! I think he's more likely to grab for your waist instead of going for your face or something.... I think he bubbles with the desire to touch you so bad and he just wants to feel you against all of him, and I think he can't help being a manhandler,,, he needs to move you just so because like he cannot let you slip from his fingers when he's aching to kiss you so bad

he doesn't make a lot of noise when he kisses but he breathes Heavy. I think once he's kind of really winded that's when he starts whimpering really low in his throat... nothing too crazy... little grunts and whines but they're so quiet. if he's kissing you and gets disturbed tho I do think he will full on groan and groan LOUD and it's both funny and super attractive because his face screws up in this petulant little scowl like. can't you see he's busy

he 100% leans fully into it which is a lot because he's a BIG man. he's going to have to push you up against something every single time because he is chasing you every time you part for air, almost mindless and eyes half-lidded as he mouths at you. he's so into it that I can guarantee it's gotten you two kicked out of a gala or two when people inevitably find him devouring you in a dark corner or a hallway you both assumed to be empty

if you wear lipstick/gloss he is not wiping that shit off either oh my goooood. don't let me think about you leaving marks all over his face and him proudly walking out into a swarm of paparazzi just. cheeky

it's really hard to just give this man a quick, chaste kiss. everything has to last at least a minute with him. it's why he literally cannot kiss you when he's busy because it'll be a minute and then five and then he's behind on work (oh no..... so sad.... anyway) because he's got you laid on the nearest surface sucking bruises into your neck

bruce will kiss any part of you but I think he's just so obsessed with your lips that it's where he inevitably fixates each time. it is so so hard to kiss him anywhere else because he will be like wow nice. kiss from my lovely partner. not on my lips tho.... and when he turns around for a kiss on the lips you can't just refuse! he's got such kissable lips and oh this is a time loop that never ends isn't it

#i feel like whenever we see batman kissing people he's like. so cool so good at it. and i think battinson is just a little pathetic abt it #he gets better im sure but i really do think around this time he is a pot about to boil over #imagining older bruce giving you a quick kiss goodnight before bed and you being like 'u never used to let me off with just one of those'#and he's like 'look going years without making out did near irreparable psychological damage to me'#'not the horrors?' 'those too'#bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #battinson x reader #mjwrites #fandom; dc

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oikarma · 5 months ago

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number one girl

pairing: max verstappen x reader

summary: the story of ynmax is a very, very heated topic riddled with holes and chock full of conspiracies: a couple and split to rival brocedes. it's mostly an a f1 thing, though, until you release an album and the internet tries to deduce what ruined a decades-long friendship.

a/n: angst warning. bear with me, you're in for a long ride. we go from twitter to insta to reddit to sdfsd. this was SO FUN!

part one / part two / part three

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by stevienicks, georgerussell63 and 3,104,827 others

yourinstagram: "number one girl" out now.

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user1: mother??? music???

user2: our multitalented baby <3

stevienicks: so proud of you ❤️

yourinstagram: so thankful for you 🥺 your support is immeasurable in worth

user3: max verstappen did you-

user4: george listening to this so he can justify bullying max next season

user5: please 💀 i choked on my water reading that

user6: CHARLES IN THE CREDITS FOR PIANO?? how many side quests has this girl roped people into

user7: they're still good friends lol just cause she and max stopped speaking doesn't mean she's not close w the rest of the grid user8: @/user7 right! she and alex have also posted each other quite a bit after the rhode collab

user9: is no one talking about the lyrics 😃 gut wrenching, yes, but the way it all lines up w max??

user10: no babe dw we're all talking about the lyrics user11: my roman empire...

user12: who's this max guy and what does he have to do with my queen y/n

user13: @/user12 he's a formula one driver, they ued to be best friends user12: @/user13 like nascar? omg what i only knew that she debuted in shadow n bone but WHAT IS THIS

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

A PAGE FROM Y/N's JOURNAL November 15, 2021

Max is a plane right now to see Kelly. I feel like I've been punched, three times over. The nausea is getting to me.

How could you? Just say all those things, like you always do. Do you mean any of them? When you say "I love you, more than anyone in this life." When you say "You're worth it, really. "When you say "forever." Does anyone ever really mean forever? Forever is part of the foreseeable future. You cannot capture what is beyond that.

You were my life. The words, every moment. An inescapable reminder.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by charles_leclerc, brunomars and 2,819,305 others

yourinstagram: "toxic till the end (ft. lewis hamilton)" is up on youtube and all music platforms ♡

view all 309,418 comments

user1: what. the. fuck.

user2: is she dating lewis? what? y/n girl please stop being cryptic my head can't take all of this 😭

user3: if this is part of the press tour i must say i am now extremely invested in the ynmax drama and i didn't even know who max was until i saw a thread on number one girl...

lewishamilton: Best of luck with your future endeavors, Y/N 🫂 Will be by your side!

yourinstagram: you better be 🫰 user4: the friendship we didn't know we needed

user5: lewis with...pink hair...

user6: max emilian verstappen fumbled so hard

user7: imagine ghosting THE y/n l/n and then she drops this

user8: well, 4 years later but yeah user9: what even is a wdc...

user10: what does the heart mean y/n

user11: bro

user12: so i guess the harry styles dating rumors were all fake 😔 but omg lewis music!!

kellypiquet: Face and voice of an angel 😽

yourinstagram: me? please, pregnancy glow has been treating you good 💕 user13: at least they don't have any hard feelings...

user14: bruno in the likes is the most random thing ever

user15: acting career, check. singing career, check. formula one side quests??? multple checks

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by kellypiquet and 4,103,697 others

lewishamilton: Behind the scenes of Miss Y/N's "toxic till the end" music video

tagged: yourinstagram

yourinstagram: looking good there, lew

lewishamilton: Very kind of you to say user1: trust me we are witnessing the start of a great romance

user2: i don't want to delulu too hard but PLEASE tell me y/n's moved on with lewis it would be the ultimate baddie move

user3: imagine...you won abu dhabi but you lost the love of your life to the guy you beat 🤪 user4: we're all insane but i'm just going to keep dreaming

charles_leclerc: Why am I not in your dump?

yourinstagram: face card wasn't lethal enough user5: she's brutal 💀 user6: our charles's facecard could start wars idk what she's on

user7: daddy please give me ONE chance

user8: give me some of that maranello?? he looks so good oml

user9: focusing on music videos and not racing...no wonder he's washed

user10: @/user9 can you stfu and touch grass user11: @/user9 literally no one asked

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

AN UNSENT LETTER FROM MAX November 2021

Dear Hey, Y/N.

I realized you blocked me. It hurts. I don't know what to say or what to believe anymore. I miss us. Overstepping was the wrong choice, if you must, but going back is not impossible.

We've been friends for so long. Why can't you won't you try?

I miss you.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

r/Fauxmoi · 1 day ago hamilton7xc

Max Verstappen and Y/N L/N's infamous split explained?

feralonsos: So she's been pretending he led her on when she lead him on

parking23: I don't know anymore. I know nothing. Don't even talk to me.

forzamcqueen: I want to say it's not about YNMax but 21 (as in 21, when they split?) and Y/N has been coming out with music recently. When you look at the "number one girl" lyrics from Boy's perspective it lines up with this submission. That Max wanted reassurance from Y/N and she gave it to him, but she couldn't give him everything he needed.

↳ roses_berg: @/forzamcqueen I don't know...it seems kind of unlikely. Y/N has a lyric about "chasing the prize" or something like that. What prize would she be chasing? On the other hand, you have Max who has clearly said racing is his passion and he loves winning.

↳ forzamcqueen: @/roses_berg I see where you're coming from but there are a few interpretations. Toxic Till the End suggests she thought his attachment to her was maybe unhealthy, and he kept trying to find ways to keep her by his side. Y/N has mentioned in past interviews (promo for her role in Shadow and Bone, when she was starting to do acting) that she's had bad experience with past relationships and is hesitant on starting a new one.

↳ januaryblues11: @/forzamcqueen Sorry, what interview? Could you link it?

↳ forzamcqueen: @/januaryblues11 No worries, I put it down below. The part I'm referring to is around 5:41.

↳ WolffHornerFan: @/forzamcqueen Okay, okay. I need a timeline then. She must've started filming Shadow and Bone in Oct 2019, then wrapped 4 months later in Feb 2020. This might be the "prize" she's chasing? Her own career. Before it was announced that she was in the series most news referred to her as "close friend" or "best friend" of Max Verstappen. Now a lot of people know her for S&B or Top Gun Maverick, etc.

↳ CautiousOwl: Might've not wanted her relationship to overshadow her career. It's understandable, if she wanted to be taken seriously instead of a "nepo friend."

↳ 4norrisop: She's amazing in Shadow and Bone! Definitely recommend checking that out, but I don't understand why she ghosted him.

↳ ynluv07: @/4norrisop he was dating kelly at the time. she might've thought it was a bad idea after it happened (i'm referring to the kiss, which i assume happened because she explicitly refers to it a few times in "number one girl") and distanced herself. maybe she told him it wasn't okay?

↳ ICEMAN_bwoah: Brain hurts.

↳ brooksies: Well if she did give up her happiness because she thought Kelly deserved better, that's great. No wonder they're still on good terms.

↳ DauntingParrot91: @/brooksies Yeah, sure...

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

AN UNSENT LETTER FROM MAX January 2022

Y/N, I'm sorry I asked for too much; I'm sorry I pushed you. I'll take my bags and go quietly, this time. Maybe you'll open the door again someday. I love you too, my best friend always.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by lewishamilton, taylorswift and 4,103,269 others

yourinstagram: Burnout.

comments on this post have been limited

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

AN UNSENT LETTER FROM Y/N February 2022

Wish you'd take a little longer to pack up your bags. You're moving too fast. Make me want to hate you more than I hate myself, so I don't have to miss you. Make a mistake, please. So I have someone to blame.

Please, won't you stay a little longer? I would call you babe, just to make you smile. I wouldn't mean it that way, but I still love you. You're my best friend. Why wasn't that enough?

I'll be okay, sometime. You say it's written all over my face, and I wonder, what is? I'm fragile, now. I'm speechless, now. Don't leave me in pieces. I'm sorry, let me fix it. It won't be good for us, but oh-how I want to.

I'm already having trouble breathing. Please, stay a little longer. I can't stand these four walls without you inside them.

Come back, be here.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by kellypiquet and 1,249,805 others

maxverstappen: She stayed a little longer 🖤

tagged: kellypiquet

view all 91,432 comments

user1: GUYS HE DEF HEARD THE SONG

user2: do we think kelly asked him to post it

user3: tbf given on how sweet her n yns interactions are i wouldn't be surprised if she listened to burnout

user4: kelly. you are the strongest woman i know

user5: so i can convince you the minute i kiss you speak a little softer so i don't have to answer and make it okay before you can say

user6: i just know he had a little breakdown inside after he heard the album

user7: max rn: CHARLES HOW COULD YOU PLAY PIANO FOR HER

user8: max: alexa play that should be me user9: ho-olding your handdd

user10: who are we blaming today

user11: at least max is finally someone's number one girl

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

AN UNSENT LETTER FROM MAX Summer 2024

Sometimes I look to the television and you're on, flying a plane or wielding magic, whatever it is you do these days. I knew you could act. I knew you'd make it far. I hear you were nominated for a Golden Globe, too.

I was mad for a long time. I was upset you kicked me out of your life so abruptly.

Kelly's expecting. I think she will be as good a mother to our child as she is to little P. A family is what I have always wanted, you know. It was not what you wanted.

I am sorry. I have said that many times, but one day I will need to say it to your face. I am truly, irrevocably sorry for all the hurt I caused you, in the name of love.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

r/PopCultureChat · 1 day ago forzamcqueen

"Burnout" by Y/N L/N

How do we feel about the release of the full album? Moreover, how do we think it fits into the YNMax narrative? I, for one, have been listening non-stop trying to figure out the story.

lec_clerc16: I think it's funny how many people have gotten into F1 because of her music. Lol.

↳ NaturalOtter5: Well Lewis & Charles were on it so I would say the F1 community is pretty interested in the tea aswell.

↳ lec_clerc16: @/NaturalOtter5 Right, but YNMax is old drama. Sure, someone's posting in r/F1 every other week about an old photo or new quote. It's still been around for a while. This is fresh meat 😋

jennyowens1342: such a player...LOL who is gameboy about atp

↳ sassybanana: TBF Y/N's dating life has been a lot more quiet than Max's. There have been rumors but she hasn't hard launched anything. Maybe the one public "relationship" was enough for her.

museapollo: the more i listen the more convinced i am that y/n did not want the relationship as max did and decided it was best for them to stop being friends. the whole album is about a codependent relationship and the two people can't deal with leaving but they know it's better for both.

↳ janitorsclosetmonster: yess!! that's what i've been saying. we can't blame y/n for everything, it must've been confusing for her as well. having to navigate everything. idt she'd dated anyone at that point. max was her only close friend.

↳ EggplantParmesan713: But did max cheat...that's the real question. When did THE kiss happen? And who started it?

↳ museapollo: @/EggplantParmesan713 idk. i can't figure if she actually loved him (romantically) bcs it's clear he did but her side is a bit more hazy. you have: 1. "i just WANT it to be you" - it's not actually him she loves but she desperately wants it to be him 2. "cause even when i said it was over / you heard baby can you pull me in closer" - she's telling him it won't work out but he's not listening. 3. "please, won't you stay, stay a little a little longer, babe?" - she pauses before babe, like it's her trying to convince him to stay. mb she thought it was best to distance herself/end the friendship for a bit but she still loves him a lot because they've been friends for so long

↳ forzamcqueen: @/museapollo The best explanation I have heard so far. You can't force someone to love you the way you do. At least they've matured and moved on.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

January 2025

Dear Max:

Congratulations. I'm sure you will be a wonderful father, as I have always guessed. 2024 was a great year for you. I watched all a few of your races; you've still got it.

I'm putting out an album soon. I thought you should know. I already had a talk with Kelly, she's listened to some snippets and she likes it a lot. Some of the writing is about you the things I never said.

It was wonderful being your best friend. We had a good run, better than most.

Missing you Wish you the best, Y/N L/N

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

February 2025

Dear Y/N:

Occasionally, I think of all that could have been.

But we had many years together, and I will always cherish those moments.

Kelly loves the album, she puts it on while she cooks or does her makeup. P sings along in the car. She says she wants to go out for a tea party with you sometime. I listen to it even when they're out of the voice, for a reminder of your voice. You've made quite a name for yourself. I'm sorry I couldn't be there by your side.

Thank you for writing it. There are some things that you have to hear once, just for yourself.

Love Always Yours, Max Verstappen

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

what did you think?? i might do a part 2 of yn & max talking for the first time in forever but i wanna know if you guys liked this one first LOL

#formula one #max verstappen x reader #formula one x reader #f1 #f1 x you #max verstappen #f1 smau #smau #x reader #rose #oikarma ᯓᡣ𐭩

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benispunk · 1 month ago

Text

Safety Net

logan howlett x reader

Logan experiences a rage episode.

A/N: hello everyone!!!! am I back??? well...I guess we can kinda say that? So, life hasn't been good, like, at all, and a whileeee ago I saw a post about mental health and Logan and I saw the "rage episodes" part and I cannot find this post anymore which is killing me ughhhh but ANYWAY, this is my rendition of a rage episode. this was very therapeutic to write because of the things I went through recently and over the past few years as I have witnessed someone in my family have a rage episode like the one depicted in this fic. I really hope I do not offend anyone with this??? cause this is based on personal memory and also I've done a lot of research on it and as I said, I felt lots of different emotions while writing this....anyway...I hope you have a good time?? reading this or like...you didn't choke on your tears or whatever. my exams are ALMOST over which means....more fics soon?? see you!!

Masterlist

Logan never thought he’d make it this far.

He wasn’t the type for relationships—not real ones, not the kind that lasted. The ones he’d had before were brief, messy, and built on things that never stuck. But Y/N was different. She didn’t just put up with him; she understood him in ways that no one ever had. And somehow, despite everything, she was still here.

He didn’t say it much—not in words, anyway—but he cared about her. More than he should. More than he knew how to handle. He’d show it in other ways instead. Walking her home when she worked late. Holding her a little tighter in his sleep when he thought she wouldn’t notice. Memorizing the way she took her coffee, the songs she hummed under her breath, the way her nose scrunched up when she was thinking.

She saw through all of it.

"You’re not as grumpy as you think you are," she’d teased him once, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on his forearm.

He’d just snorted, shaking his head. "You sure about that?"

"Mhm. You just pretend to be."

And maybe she was right. Maybe, with her, he didn’t feel the need to pretend so much.

Which is why, one night, tangled up together in her apartment, she had said something that stuck with him.

"I was thinking… maybe one day, we could live together."

It wasn’t a question, not really. Just an idea, something she had tossed out so casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world. But Logan had frozen for just a second too long, and she must have noticed because she quickly added, "Not now, obviously. Just, you know… one day. If you’d want that."

He forced himself to relax, to keep his voice even. "Yeah… someday."

That had been enough for her. She had smiled, kissed him, and let it go.

But he didn’t.

It stayed with him, gnawed at him from the inside out. Someday. What did that even mean? A month? A year? What if she asked again? What if she expected something from him?

What if he said yes and fucked everything up?

At first, he managed to push the thought aside.

Days passed, and nothing changed. They still met up when they could, still spent nights tangled in each other’s arms, still fell into that easy rhythm that had become so natural.

But then, the idea started sticking.

It crept up in quiet moments—when he was alone in his apartment, staring at the ceiling. When Y/N texted him goodnight, and he imagined what it would be like if she was just… there.

And that’s when it started. The overthinking. The doubts. The realization of everything that could go wrong.

Logan had never had anything that lasted. Not a home. Not a real future. Not someone who stayed. And if he let himself believe—even for a second—that this could work, that he could have something good, then he’d just be setting himself up for the inevitable.

Because eventually, he would hurt her.

Not on purpose. Never on purpose. But he knew himself. He knew what he was.

His nightmares alone were enough proof of that.

The thought of waking up next to her after one of those nights—claws unsheathed, sheets shredded, breath ragged—made his stomach twist. What if he lashed out? What if she got caught in it?

What if one of his rage episodes got out of hand?

No.

He couldn’t let that happen.

So when months later she asked about it again—actually asked—he hesitated.

They were sitting on her couch, her legs thrown over his lap, a movie playing in the background. It was the kind of easy, quiet moment that usually put him at ease. But this time, he could feel her looking at him, like she was weighing her words before speaking.

"You never really answered me before," she said finally. "Do you actually want us to live together?"

Logan’s jaw tightened. He could hear the uncertainty in her voice, like she was scared of his answer.

He should have told her the truth. That it had been eating him alive for months. That he wanted to say yes, but his fear screamed louder than anything else.

Instead, he said, "I just need some time to think about it."

Y/N’s expression didn’t change. She just nodded slowly, studying him in that way that made his skin itch.

"Okay," she said, like she didn’t believe him.

And then she squeezed his hand. Just briefly. A small, warm reassurance.

But to Logan, it didn’t change anything.

He could only see what he thought was disappointment behind her understanding. He convinced himself she was just trying to be strong about it, pretending it didn’t hurt her when really, she was just waiting for him to figure himself out.

The guilt settled in his chest, heavy and suffocating.

That’s how it started.

The beginning is always subtle. He stayed out later, made excuses when she asked to meet up. His texts became shorter, more infrequent. He spent more time alone in his apartment, staring at the walls, trapped inside his own head.

And the longer it went on, the worse it got.

Logan convinced himself it was nothing. He was just thinking. That’s all.

But the thoughts never stopped.

Every time Y/N messaged him, guilt curled in his stomach like a sickness. He’d stare at his phone for minutes at a time, fingers hovering over the keyboard, before locking the screen and tossing it onto the couch.

He didn’t want to ignore her. But if he answered, he’d have to talk, and if he talked, she’d hear it in his voice—how torn he was, how he could barely keep himself together. And he couldn’t let that happen.

So he let the distance grow.

He told himself it was for her own good. That he was doing her a favor.

That lie worked for about a week.

Then came the restlessness.

The apartment, always too small, started feeling like a cage. Logan found himself pacing the length of it, muscles coiled so tight they ached. He tried training to burn it off—push-ups until his arms gave out, running until he couldn't feel his legs—but it didn’t help.

The frustration built like pressure under his skin, like a ticking bomb he couldn’t disarm.

And worst of all, he felt it creeping up—an old, familiar feeling, something he’d kept at bay for months.

The anger.

It started small. A twitch in his fingers. A tightness in his jaw. A heat in his chest that never fully went away.

The second week, it got worse.

His hands trembled when he wasn’t paying attention. His breathing came too fast, too shallow, like something was crawling under his skin. He felt his temper snap quicker, his patience wear thinner.

And then, one morning, he caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror and barely recognized himself.

Dark circles burned under his eyes. His face was drawn, sharp, his shoulders tense. He looked haunted.

It was getting bad. Too bad.

He needed to see Y/N.

The thought hit him like a slap. His first instinct was to shove it down, bury it under everything else, but it wouldn’t leave.

He missed her. But worse than that—he needed her.

And that terrified him more than anything.

Because what if he showed up, and she looked at him the way he looked at himself?

What if she finally saw him for what he really was?

A monster. A wreck. A lost cause.

The fear made his blood run cold.

The first punch isn’t planned.

One second, he’s gripping the sink, breath ragged, jaw locked so tight it aches. The next, his fist slams into the mirror with a force that shatters it instantly.

Glass rains down like ice. Tiny shards bite into his knuckles, but he barely feels it.

His chest heaves. His heartbeat pounds against his ribs. He stares at his own fractured reflection—his face split into a dozen broken pieces, each one warped, wrong.

It’s not enough.

The rage claws higher, burning his veins, crushing his ribs. He steps back, breathing sharp and uneven. He moves away from the bathroom, into his small living room. And then he snaps.

The lamp goes flying first. It crashes against the far wall, exploding into pieces. The chair follows. He barely registers the sound it makes as it shatters.

His claws threaten to unsheathe, but he fights it—barely.

Instead, he tears through the apartment with nothing but his hands.

The table gets overturned. Books get ripped from shelves. His dresser—too heavy, too solid—takes three violent attempts before it topples over with a thunderous crack.

Still, it’s not enough.

He needs to break something. To hurt something. To feel it.

His breathing is ragged, his vision tunneling. His hands tangle in his own hair, yanking, as if he could pull himself out of his own skin.

The storm inside him is suffocating.

It doesn’t stop until there’s nothing left standing.

And then, silence.

His shoulders tremble. His hands curl into fists at his sides, still shaking.

He looks around, blinking through the haze, and finally sees it—

The wreckage.

His apartment is destroyed.

He stares, breath coming too fast, too shallow. His head is spinning. His chest aches.

What have I done?

The thought slams into him, knocking the air from his lungs.

He wants to scream. To punch something again. To disappear.

And then—

A soft knock.

His stomach drops.

He goes rigid, pulse hammering in his ears. He barely has time to process before her voice follows—gentle, uncertain.

"Logan?"

No. No, no, no.

She can’t be here. Not now. Not when the air still vibrates with rage. Not when his body still hums with it.

He staggers back, breath shaking, trying to make sense of anything.

She knocks again. "I know you’re here."

Panic surges through him.

He grips the edge of the still standing counter, heart hammering. Think. Think.

But his mind is blank.

She can’t see this. She can’t see him.

But she’s already here.

And it’s too late.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. If he stays completely still, maybe she’ll leave. Maybe she’ll assume he’s out and walk away.

But then—

His phone rings.

The sound shatters the silence like a gunshot.

His stomach drops.

Shit.

His body jolts into motion, eyes darting wildly through the wreckage. Where the hell is it? He moves without thinking, shoving aside broken furniture, tossing clothes and debris out of the way. His hands are unsteady, frantic, as he digs through the mess.

The ringing continues.

Come on, come on—

His fingers finally close around the device, and he scrambles to turn it off, but—

The damage is done.

Outside, Y/N goes silent.

A few seconds pass, then—

"...Logan?" Her voice is softer now. Knowing.

His chest tightens.

He grips the phone so hard it creaks in his hand. His breathing is too loud, his pulse a hammer against his skull.

She knows.

"Logan, open the door."

No. No, no, she can’t.

"You can’t come in," he blurts out, his voice hoarse. He clears his throat, tries to steady himself, but it’s useless. His hands are still shaking. His entire body is.

"Please." Her voice is so gentle it cuts through him like a blade.

"Just—just go home, alright?" He forces the words out, presses his back against the door like he can physically hold her out. "I’m fine."

He knows how it sounds. Knows she doesn’t believe it.

"Logan…"

There’s something in her tone—something aching—that makes his stomach twist.

"You’re not fine," she says, quiet but firm. "Please. Just let me in."

He squeezes his eyes shut. His head is spinning.

She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t see this.

But she is.

And deep down, he knows. She’s the better option. She always has been. And with a sharp breath, his fingers fumble with the lock.

The second it clicks, the door opens.

And Y/N steps inside.

The air was thick with dust and the sharp scent of splintered wood.

The apartment—once messy in a charming, lived-in way—was destroyed. Furniture overturned, glass shattered across the floor.

In the middle of it all stood Logan. Frozen. Shaking. Like an animal cornered after ripping itself apart.

Y/N didn’t hesitate. Her heart ached so violently in her chest it almost knocked the air from her lungs, but she didn’t hesitate.

Carefully stepping over the broken glass, she made her way to him. Her hands reached out—gentle, slow—like approaching something fragile.

“Logan,” she breathed.

He flinched at her voice. His hands, bloody and trembling, curled into fists at his sides, as if trying to hold himself together. He wouldn’t look at her. Couldn’t.

But Y/N wasn't afraid. Not of him. Never of him.

She checked his hands first, ghosting her fingers over his knuckles, over shallow cuts that were already starting to heal. It didn’t matter—they could have hurt. She still touched him with the same care she would have used on something broken beyond repair.

“Come here,” she whispered, finding a chair that hadn’t been completely wrecked. She kicked aside some debris, made enough space, then turned back to him.

He didn’t move. Didn’t even seem to breathe.

So she went to him and she led him by the hand—gently, so gently—until he sat down with a heavy, defeated thud.

Y/N disappeared into the kitchen for a second, somehow finding a clean cloth and wetting it with cold water. When she came back, Logan hadn't moved. His eyes were empty, far away, like he wasn’t really there.

Kneeling in front of him, she pressed the damp cloth to his face, wiping away the blood, the dirt, the sweat.

He flinched again at first—then, slowly, surrendered to her touch. His head bowed forward, his whole body trembling under her hands. Tears fell down his cheeks. Silent. Endless. He didn’t even seem to notice them.

Y/N caught every tear with the cloth, and when that wasn’t enough, with the soft brush of her thumb against his skin. She kissed the corner of his mouth so lightly he barely felt it, her hands cradling his face like he was something precious.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, over and over again. “I’m here. You’re okay.”

Logan let out a breath that sounded like it hurt to release. His shoulders collapsed inward, and for a moment, he leaned into her, desperate and broken. But even then, even shattered, a part of him tried to pull away. He didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve her.

“You shouldn’t be,” he rasped, voice thick with guilt and misery.

Y/N’s heart twisted, but she didn’t loosen her hold. She shook her head and pressed her forehead gently to his. Her hands threaded through his hair, slow and steady, grounding him.

"I’ll always be here," she whispered.

And that—That broke him all over again.

Logan choked on a sob, rough and ugly, and Y/N gathered him close. She guided him toward the bedroom, somehow navigating the wreckage without letting go of him, like if she let go, he might fall apart completely.

They reached the bed—half wrecked but still standing—and she urged him to sit.

He obeyed, dazed and exhausted.

She climbed behind him, pulling him against her chest, holding him the way you would hold someone drowning. Her hands never stopped moving—through his hair, over his face, down his chest—silent promises written into every touch.

Logan tried to speak—tried to tell her he was sorry, that he was dangerous, that he should be alone—but the words tangled in his throat.

Instead, he cried.

For everything he was.

For everything he wasn’t.

For everything he was terrified to lose.

And she listened. Patient. Endless.

Her tears fell into his hair as she presses soft kisses there and whispered, “I’ve got you, Logan. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time in days—maybe longer—he believed her.

He stayed there, trembling in her arms, every breath a struggle. He was exhausted—but he couldn’t close his eyes. Couldn’t let himself fall into sleep, not yet. Not when every part of him screamed that he didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve her.

Y/N must have sensed it—the way he was still locked in the fight, even as his body sagged against her. Because after a long moment, she leaned back just enough to look at him, her fingers brushing through his hair again, slow and soothing.

"Logan," she said softly, "let’s go to my place, okay?"

Her voice was a balm, warm and certain, like she was offering him a lifeline he didn’t think he deserved.

"We’ll come back here when you're ready," she promised. "We'll clean up together. But right now, you need a place that feels safe."

Safe.

The word hit him like a punch.

Logan stiffened, guilt flaring so hard it made his stomach churn. He shook his head, tearing away from her touch even though it hurt to do it.

"I can’t," he rasped, his voice cracking. "I’ll... I'll just wreck that too."

Y/N’s chest squeezed painfully. Logan’s fists curled again, self-hatred bleeding out of every line of his body.

"I could—" he swallowed hard, his throat burning, "I could hurt you."

He didn’t say again. But it was there, unspoken.

He was a monster. A ticking bomb. Someone who could tear everything good apart without even meaning to.

But Y/N. She just reached for him again, steady and unwavering, like a lighthouse cutting through the storm.

"You won’t," she said, firm but gentle. "You won't because you're not alone. Because you don’t have to fight this alone anymore."

She squeezed his hand, grounding him back into her.

"And even if you still don’t believe it," she whispered, "even if you push me away, even if you try to shut me out... I’m not leaving you, Logan. Not now. Not ever."

Logan’s breathing hitched. He shook his head again, broken. "You don’t get it," he choked out. "I’m not... I'm not worth it. You should walk away. You should've walked away the second you saw—" He gestured weakly at the wreckage, at the wreck of himself.

But Y/N only moved closer. Closer until he couldn't look anywhere without seeing her. Feeling her.

"I saw you," she said, voice thick with emotion. "Not the mess. You."

That shattered something deep in him. Not in a violent way. In a way that stripped him down to the raw truth beneath all the pain: He needed her. He wanted her. He loved her more than he even knew how to say.

And she loved him right back, with a kind of love so fierce it scared him more than anything else in the world. But it also saved him.

Slowly, hesitantly, Logan reached for her again. His hand fisted in the back of her shirt like he was terrified she might vanish if he didn’t hold on tight enough. And when she leaned into him, wrapping him up in her arms again, he buried his face in her neck, letting himself finally, finally fall into her.

Maybe he didn’t deserve her. Maybe he never would.

But she was here. And for tonight, at least, that was enough.

She kept her arms around him for a long moment, just breathing with him. When she finally pulled back, it was only to cup his face in both hands, her thumb brushing gently across his cheek.

"Stay here," she whispered. "Don’t move, okay? I’ll be right back."

Logan didn’t argue. Couldn’t. He just nodded faintly, like a man barely clinging to the surface.

Y/N kissed his forehead so softly it made his chest ache, then she stood up, stepping carefully over the wreckage as she made her way back into the main room. He watched her go, guilt gnawing at him.

In the living room, Y/N moved quickly but carefully. She picked up the sharp shards of the broken mirror first, wrapping them in a towel before tossing them safely into the trash. She pushed splintered wood and broken glass out of the pathways, clearing a narrow, safe space from the bedroom to the front door. She closed the shattered shutters as best she could, dimming the room so that when Logan would come back here later, it wouldn't feel so raw. So exposed.

She worked with quiet determination, her heart breaking a little more every time she caught sight of the destruction. Not because she cared about the mess, but because she could feel how much pain Logan must've been in to cause it.

When she was satisfied that nothing dangerous remained, she made her way back to the bedroom.

Logan was still sitting exactly where she left him, on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped and hands loosely clenched in his lap.

Y/N’s heart squeezed.

She didn’t say anything at first. Instead, she moved around the room, finding a worn duffel bag tucked under the bed. She gently packed what she could: clothes that weren’t destroyed, a couple of small things she knew mattered to him.

In the bathroom, it was harder—cracked tiles, broken shelves—but she found his toothbrush, some of his toiletries, a couple of personal items, and tucked them into the bag too.

The whole time, Logan stayed silent, waiting on the edge of the bed.

It felt unreal. Like he wasn’t sure any of this was happening. Like any second now, she’d realize who he really was and walk out that door forever.

But she didn’t. She zipped the bag closed, slinging it over her shoulder and when she turned to him, her expression was still soft. Still his.

"Alright," she said gently. "Let’s go."

Logan hesitated, his body locked between guilt and the pull of her voice. But then she held out her hand to him and after a long, trembling second, Logan reached out and took it.

Her fingers wrapped tightly around his, like a promise.

She led him out of the bedroom, guiding him carefully around the worst of the wreckage she’d cleared, never letting go of his hand. Out the door. Out of the prison his fear had made.

The walk to Y/N’s apartment was quiet.

She kept a steady hand on Logan the whole time, whether it was gripping his hand, brushing his arm, or gently guiding him through doors and up steps.

Logan didn’t speak. He felt hollowed out and brittle, like if she let go of him even for a second, he might just blow away with the night wind.

When they finally reached her door, she unlocked it quickly, ushering him inside with a tenderness that made his throat ache.

The apartment smelled like her. Warm. Safe.

Home.

She kicked off her shoes by the entrance but didn’t ask him to do the same. Instead, she led him straight to the couch, easing him down carefully like he might break if she moved him too fast.

"Stay right here," she said softly, brushing his hair back from his forehead. "I'll be back in a second."

He nodded numbly, watching her flit around the small space. She pulled out a fresh blanket, fluffed a pillow behind him, checked the thermostat to make sure the place was warm enough. Every move was made with him in mind—with the kind of care he didn’t think he deserved.

And maybe he didn't. Maybe he was fooling himself to think he could have this. Have her.

As she moved into her bedroom to grab some extra clothes he could borrow, Logan’s eyes wandered without meaning to.

Her apartment was small but filled with life—books, photos, cozy little touches everywhere. He caught sight of something pinned to the fridge and frowned. He pushed himself up a little and squinted.

It was a photo. Worn and creased from being touched so often.

It was him. Him and her.

A candid photo from some random night he barely remembered, probably taken when they'd gone out for drinks with some of her friends. In it, he was looking off to the side, a rare, unguarded smile on his face. And she was laughing, leaning into him like she belonged there. Like she'd always belonged there. Someone had drawn a little heart under the picture.

Logan's chest tightened so hard it hurt. He hadn't even known she had that picture.

Y/N came back just then, carrying some sweatpants and a soft hoodie, but paused when she saw him up, looking at the fridge.

"Logan?" she said gently, setting the clothes down.

He shook his head, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. Trying to breathe past the crushing guilt and the unbearable love that wrapped around him like chains. He sat back down on the couch.

"I..." he started hoarsely. He dragged a hand down his face, then gritted out, "I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you."

Y/N didn’t hesitate. She dropped to her knees in front of him, cupping his face in her hands again, forcing him to look at her.

"Listen to me," she whispered, voice trembling but sure. "You’re not a monster. You’re not broken beyond saving. You are good, Logan. And you don’t have to do this alone anymore."

He squeezed his eyes shut, a broken sound escaping him—part sob, part plea.

"I could hurt you," he rasped. "I could—"

"You won't," she said fiercely. "I trust you. I know you."

Her thumbs brushed away the tears he didn't even realize were falling again.

For a long, trembling moment, Logan didn’t move. Didn't even breathe.

And then, like a man surrendering a battle he never wanted to fight in the first place, he leaned into her touch. Collapsed against her.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself believe he wasn't beyond saving.

Not as long as she was here. Not as long as she was holding him like this.

Logan’s body was heavy against hers, all tense lines and shuddering breaths. For a moment, he let himself rest there, forehead pressed to her shoulder, letting her hands ground him—gentle strokes along his back, soothing circles at the nape of his neck.

But then, as always, the guilt clawed its way back up his throat.

He shifted, starting to pull away.

"I—I should go," he muttered roughly, not even knowing where he thought he could go in this state. "I’ll just—I’ll sleep on the floor. Or— or the couch."

Y/N immediately tightened her hold.

"What are you talking about..." she said, firm but gentle, her hands sliding up to cradle his face again. "You're not going anywhere."

He shook his head, a pained sound escaping him, "You don’t—You shouldn't have to—" His voice cracked under the weight of it. "Look at me, Y/N."

"I am," she whispered, her thumb stroking just beneath his eye, brushing away a tear. "And all I see is the man I love."

He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing ragged.

She didn’t let him turn away. Didn’t let him fall back into that pit.

"You're staying right here," she said again, softer this time, like a promise. "With me."

For a second, he was frozen.

Then Y/N pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, lingering there.

"Come on," she murmured against his skin. "Let’s get you comfortable, alright?"

He nodded weakly, too exhausted to resist anymore.

She helped him out of his ruined jacket, guiding him with slow, careful movements like he was made of glass. He let her pull the sleeves down his arms, let her tug the hoodie over his head. Every touch was tender, every glance full of nothing but care and patience.

She handed him the fresh sweatpants and shirt she'd found earlier, giving him the dignity of changing in the bathroom if he wanted— but he just stood there, trembling, needing her near.

So she stayed. Helping him change, steadying his shaking hands when they fumbled with the fabric.

Once he was in clean clothes, Y/N led him to her bed.

The second he sat down, the mattress dipping under his weight, he seemed to lose what little strength he had left. He dropped his head into his hands, shoulders heaving with silent breaths.

Y/N knelt down again in front of him, brushing her fingers through his hair with infinite gentleness.

"You’re safe now," she whispered. "You’re safe. I’ve got you."

Logan swallowed hard, blinking back another wave of tears. He was so fucking tired. Of fighting. Of hurting.

Tired of believing he didn’t deserve this.

Slowly—so slowly—he lifted his head.

And she was there. Still there. Still looking at him like he was worth staying for.

"I’ll stay," he rasped, voice breaking.

Her smile trembled, but it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"Good," she breathed, wiping another tear from his cheek. "That's all I want."

She climbed into bed beside him, pulling the blankets over them, never once letting go of his hand.

And for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Logan let himself believe that maybe—just maybe—he didn’t have to be alone anymore.

XXX

feel free to comment if you want a part 2 or any other request!!

#fanfiction #fandom #ao3 #logan howlett x reader #deadpool and wolverine #marvel cinematic universe #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett imagine #xmen fanfiction #xmen x reader #deadpool 3 #logan x reader #x men movies #xmen fanart #x men

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jakedoxxenvasion · 1 year ago

Text

dr.lee

fellow doctor heeseung! × resident doctor y/n!

warning: MDNI!, unprotective sex (whops) kissing and more?

not in a million years you would think you will do something like this, with someone that you adore so much.. someone that you look up to as a senior to you, someone that you met everyday and formally call him by his surname instead of..

"h-heeseung!"your sinful lips moaning for his name, "sshhh, you want them to hear you?"immediately you bite your bottom lips once getting that warn from him, he peck your lips and smile. "didn't expect you to be so obedient to me, love. such a good girl."you humming to everything he said to you, trying to not moan out his name.

you know what you did is wrong because you're just a doctor resident and he's your senior doctor, it's totally wrong but you couldn't stop him. not that you can't but you don't want to, having him pounding his cock so deep into you in the small store room in the middle of your night shift, the clock strike 3 in the morning as much as you remember when he call for you to help him earlier.

it's all start with you helping him with sorting out papers, and files of patients records and ending up finding yourself here in this room with him doing things that you could ever imagine in your right mind. "just a little more, does it hurt you, hm?"you shake your head, no he doesn't hurt you but the pleasure is too much.

heeseung smile when he kiss your lips, hips still rutting into you. he could feel your wall hugging him tight at each thrust he make, sending him over the cloud but he know that he cannot be loud. "s-shit, you're so fucking tight, love."he let out a low groan, watching how you try to control your own voices and somehow he like the way you did.

liking the idea of doing this in secret, liking the idea that there's an outside world that you try so hard it keep it out, not wanting people to find out about what the two of you did in this room. "fuck- heeseung i'm close ah-"he shut you up with his lips, kissing you so deep, cock still pounding in and out of you.

your fingers tangle with his hair, he push you against the wall, "cum for me, love."he whisper those once he pull away from the kiss, like a cue you could feel the feeling at the pit of your stomach rushing down. heeseung smile, letting you rode out all your orgasm with you weakly leaning on his shoulder, doesn't have much energy left in you.

he thrust into you once.. twice then he pull out from you, only to shot his loads on your stomach. "oh fuck."you watch those thick white liquid spurting out from his cock, messily on your skin. somehow, heeseung has those proud smile after everything that he had done with you. you look at him and he smirk, he peck your lips before he slowly put you down to make you stand on the ground.

"so fucking perfect, love."he caressed your cheek softly then continue to kiss your lips again. when he pull away, he stare into your eyes, "doctor.."your soft voice call for him, which make him chuckle. "that was not what you called me earlier, ms.y/n."your cheeks immediately turn red as his remarks, he continue to caressed your cheek as he stare into your eyes.

but then heeseung take a few step back, you watch him grab a box of tissue at the top shelf behind him and he rip it open before he help you clean up and get dress again. "so.. do i pretend like nothing happen earlier or-" "unless you want more, you can always come to my office, love."he interrupt your words then wink at you, blush immediately creep up your face.

you slowly nod your head, he pat your head then he open the door after grabbing a random file on the shelf. "later, make sure you keep everything in place again, okay? ms.y/n."he said, know it very well he did that on purpose, you follow him from behind after you fix your white coat. "sure, dr."

heeseung turn to look at you just to give you a wink before he walk away.

should i write a longer version of this? cause i kind of like the plot lol

#enhypen hard hours #enhypen heeseung #enhypen smut #enhypen heeseung smut #lee heeseung #lee heesung x reader #heeseung

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nicksolemnlyswears · 3 months ago

Text

CAPABLE HANDS

summary: marcus acacius is tired of his hands only bringing pain and destruction

pairing: marcus acacius x wife!reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: i don’t think there’s any warning on this one guys. i kept it very pg-13. there’s like one mention of sex but blink and you’ll miss it.

a/n: hello everybody!! so my great friend kiwi ( @yxtkiwiyxt ), aka the biggest javi fan ever, created the 'never have i ever' challenge for the pedro pascal fandom way back in january and i decided to give it a little try. it's such a fun challenge, so if you're a fan of pedro pascal's characters hop on over to her blog and you'll be fed for a while.

in true nikki fashion, i'm very late but she thankfully extended it.

as you can probably tell i got marcus acacius because that man is just straight out of my fantasies and my prompt was 'never have i ever built something with my own hands'.

this came to me so fast. the moment she gave me the prompt i just knew! that being said it did take me like one month too long to finish it (again bad nikki habits).

my sincerest apologies empress kiwi 🥺 hopefully this is to your liking.

enjoy 🤍

His hands were made for war—for fighting, for holding a sword and not letting go until his arms felt like lead and the enemy was taken care of.

They're full of callouses and wounds that'll never heal. Scars that remind him of the person he is. General Marcus Acacius.

Despite the current leadership, he loved serving Rome. He was indebted to Rome. It is his home, and it forever will be.

He was proud of his achievements. He's come farther than he ever imagined, yet as the years go by, he can't help but feel that seed of guilt in the root of his stomach sprout bigger with each passing battle.

There comes a point where he cannot justify the cruelty and viciousness with which they fight.

They tear families apart, kill brave men defending their own homes, burn villages to the ground, and loot in the name of Rome.

For what?

More power, more riches, more glory—all while the country grows impoverished and hunger takes its claim on those less fortunate.

He yearns to return to glorious Rome. Beautiful Rome with marble pillars and vivid sceneries. The place where his lovely wife, you, waits for him after each conquest.

General Acacius yearns to forget.

You're the one who reminds him his hands are capable of more. They are gentle when he holds you. When he grabs onto your hips until you're spilling over him.

They're the ones you hold as you stroll in the gardens. Or when you insist on heading to the market despite your status.

They are soft, patient, encouraging.

His hands that tuck your hair behind your ear when a rebellious curly strand tickles your face.

And yet he always falls into that deep despair. Nights when he can't sleep, thinking of all the damage he's done to innocent people. He did it willingly at one point, chasing that infamous glory where Gladiator games would be held in his honor upon returning to battle.

Now, that glory mocks him. It's a mirage in the desert. Beautiful from afar but bitter up close.

He's selfish. Marcus Acacius could stop, but it would mean his death. He can deal with death, but he will not be the cause of yours.

So, as he untangles himself from your arms, Marcus goes outside to sit and watch over the city, vigilant. He remembers the market and the artisans building beautiful things with their hands—hands calloused and scarred from their skill, not weapons and death.

They say life mimics art.

He wishes to use his hands for more than striking. He wants to see his hands as more capable like you do.

His greatest skill, besides being a swordsman, is being observant. What makes General Acacius great is the way he's able to analyze a situation and strike at the weakest point. The next time you drag him to the market, he watches over the artisans, the tools they use, and their creations.

"Is anything the matter, husband?" You ask, grasping his arm. You don't miss the way he stares at the knife in the artisan's hand, and you worry.

Your husband doesn't like it much when you come to the market. He doesn't believe it to be entirely safe for a woman of your standing. Still, your beloved Marcus spoils you and lets you come. Accompanied by him, of course, and guards when he is not able to join you.

His focus shifts from the skillful shaping of the block of wood to you. He softly smiles, pressing his hand upon yours. "Are you ready?"

You nod with a smile, chattering about the fresh fruit you picked and the pastries you'll ask the cooks to bake for you. Woefully unaware of your husband's purchases.

That same night, when the same old nightmare wakes him, Marcus untangles himself from your limbs and sneaks away to a bench in the gardens. Under the stars, he looks at the block of wood in his left hand and the sculpting knife in his right.

As the knife starts to chip away at the wood, the more he distracts his mind from his duty as a General. In a way, he turns mindless, focusing on the rough edges and the splinters, successfully filling his hands with new creative wounds.

At first, you're blissfully unaware since Marcus always returns to your side before you wake. Then, wooden figures start being placed by your bedside, with rough initials scratched on the bottom.

Your dear husband never cared to mention his new hobby or the fact he was gifting you his work. It was unspoken. You cherish each one of his small sculptures, saving them and leaving them on display.

With each one, he only got better and better. Pride swelled on your chest as you witnessed his artistry grow.

It is refreshing to see him work through his worry with art instead of violence. You, more than anyone, know what ails him when he returns home fresh with new wounds.

There is no war raging around him, yet it remains in his mind. The Gladiator games do not entertain him as they do the rest of the Romans. He's forced to sit and watch the strongest prisoners fight all over again, killing what remains of his conquests.

His reluctance to go to the markets fades away. Marcus Acacius joins you a bit too eagerly, looking for a moment to observe the artisans and the skills they implement.

You take your time, inspecting each fruit and vegetable you have in your hands. Simply to give him more time.

The more he joins you, the more they notice him watching. A quiet, old artisan going as far as beckoning Marcus to come closer and ask the questions on the tip of his tongue.

"Are you ready?" You ask when there is no more to do, joining his side.

"If you are done, yes," he says aloof, leaving coin to the artisan who taught him a few things.

You smile, resisting the urge to giggle. Your big, strong husband avoids talking about what he finds enjoyable.

Warriors are not often seen as artists.

One night, you wake and find him missing from the bed. His spot is cold and empty; he's been gone a while. Unable to sleep, knowing he is awake, you search for him, a shawl wrapped around your shoulders to avoid the chill of the night.

A torch is lit in the garden, and you follow it like a moth to a flame. That's where your husband sits on a bench, knife in hand, and wood scrapings littering the trimmed grass.

"I was wondering where you found the time," you say, shuffling closer and sitting beside him. Shoulders brushing comfortably.

Marcus' head turns towards you, red dusting his tanned cheeks. "I can't sleep," he admits.

"Is it the nightmares?"

He nods, carving smaller details onto the wood, giving it a recognizable shape. His hands have new calluses from gripping the wood and the knife's differently shaped handle.

"You've become quite the woodcarver," you say, changing the subject he does not like talking about.

You won't push him. He has enough in his mind. You're thankful he's not like the other Generals who find distractions at the brothels.

"I've got a long way to go," he responds, turning the wood figure in his hands to assess it.

"Not tonight, though," you tell him, placing your hand over his. "You must join me in bed. It's far too cold without you."

Marcus Acacius softly smiles at you, nodding before placing the wooden figure and knife down. "Whatever my lady wife says."

This small habit of leaving the bed in the middle of the night does not cease. His hands itch to do something, to create, and he listens.

In the end, you're happy if he's happy. You let him be, sometimes dragging him back to bed when you need him most.

At times, you join him, curling next to him, eyes drooping but refusing to leave him. The movement of his hard muscles lulls you to sleep as he works at shaping the pieces of wood.

"There are far more comfortable places to rest, my wife," Marcus says, the low timbre of his voice rousing you from the sleep that threatens to take you under.

"The best place to be is by my husband's side," you sigh, getting more comfortable and ignoring his request. "If you wish me abed, you have to be there."

The time comes when the emperor twins become restless and order him to conquer in their stead. It is time to sully his hands once more with the blood of warriors protecting their home.

With one last wooden figure placed beside your bed and a kiss on your head, he leaves fearfully, wondering if this would be the one time he won't return.

You clutch the figure day in and day out, afraid if you let it out of your sight, bad news will arrive. You press your lips against the smooth surface when you miss him most, bringing it to your chest as if you could feel him close by the simple action.

In his absence, you learn you have been blessed by the gods and are expecting a child. More than ever, do you wish for your husband's safe return.

Many months after his departure, news of the battalion's return spread across Rome in a matter of hours. Your lady-in-waiting heard it from the servants who had gone to the market earlier in the day.

"My lady, your General has returned," she whispers excitedly, helping you get ready for the day.

"Are you sure?" You gasp, clutching your rounded belly in anticipation. Many months have gone by, and you did not think he'd make it for the birth.

The fact that no soldiers come to your door is reassuring. Your husband may be injured but not dead, and that is enough.

"He's been sighted joining the Emperors."

He comes like a breeze in the night, quiet and stealthy. With no need of unnecessary fanfare, he only wished to see you.

Marcus Acacius needed your reassurance once more. That his hands were not to be stained permanently.

He finds you by the fountain, looking as beautiful as ever. Hair curled and loose, front strands pulled back but with that stubborn fringe that refused to be held back. Such a reflection of your being.

A cloak hung around your shoulders, hiding your most precious treasure unbeknownst to him.

"My lady," he calls out, standing a few feet from you.

You look up from the pond of swimming fish, eyes round with surprise and excitement. "Marcus Acacius," you gasp.

He's back home. New scars, healed and unhealed, litter his tanned skin. His hair longer, pushed away from his eyes. He is safe, and he is sound.

You stand to approach him and greet him properly. Your feet drive you forward, and the movement pushes the cloak back, exposing your round belly.

He's always been so observant. It would be hard to miss.

Your arms curl around his neck, bringing him into an embrace. You thank the gods above for his safe return.

Acacius is frozen as his mind catches up with what he's seen. Such a reaction would get him killed in battle. You cup his face while pulling back, "Husband?" The tickle from the scruff on his cheeks is a comfort.

He's not in battle. Marcus is home with you.

His palms softly come to your belly. He's gentle, extremely so. "You're with child?"

"Yes," you say breathlessly, awaiting his reaction.

"You're carrying our child?" His voice is thick with emotion. Unshed tears fill his eyes as Marcus kneels on the ground, palms feeling the soft kick of his unborn child.

He only ever wished to have children with you so they'd take after their mother. It's been in the back of both of your minds, but his role as a General often took precedence.

"I only found out once you left," you confess, placing your hands over his. "Are you happy?"

"This is the happiest I've ever been," he says, standing to finally place his lips upon yours. There's a grunt in the back of his throat as he pulls you close or as close as your belly would permit. "You've made me the happiest man in the world, my wife."

General Marcus Acacius has a new purpose in life. He is becoming a father of a baby boy or baby girl. Nonetheless, he wishes to leave war far behind.

He needs to be in Rome to watch them grow and become noble people. He does not want to leave for months or years at a time, and he does not want them to see him in deep despair when he returns from such physical and mental battles.

Whenever he returns from war, the nightmares become more vivid, keeping him awake. His hands itch to create and to distract his busy brain.

This time, it is no exception.

Untangling himself from your tight hold, Marcus Acacius walks to the gardens. Picking up his woodcarving tools along the way. His hands itch for a new project, and what better project than building his child's crib.

sorry it wasn't very romancy, i really focused on general marcus acacius inner turmoil, don't we love a troubled man?

#fanfiction #nicksolemnlyswears #gladiator ii fanfiction #gladiator ii #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius #gladiator 2 #gladiator fanfiction #general acacius x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal

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dontbesoweirdkira · 7 months ago

Note

Okay, so, the ask about yandere platonic dick cheating and how the reader would react has me wondering; what would happen if the reader somehow found out that Dick didn't actually change and decided to go no contact, because they couldn't trust him or maybe because they just don't want to be around someone like that? Would that cause Dick to spiral more? What exactly would be the consequences of going no contact? (Like a complete cut off, although it'd be a bit hard to do that since they live in the same house)

(I was a bit disappointed to read that he probably wouldn't change, but it seemed realistic to me because habits are hard to break and everyone in the batfam is messed up. Although, I imagine after years of therapy or something similar there might be some sort of change. But, I doubt anyone in the batfam is getting therapy... except maybe reader)

Sorry yeah, i don't like to think Dick is actually a cheater or this shitty. I just like to humor different scenarios i get requested. But you cannot deny that this man is a messy whore. THIS IS THE FACE OF EVILLL

context

Look, cheaters are so sloppy. Even the ones who put the most effort into it are always bound to slip up. I imagine batsis isn't a fool. Like Richard...no way did you just go from being a serial cheater to suddenly being completely cleansed. You're an addict baby boy.

Like i said at first he's actually wanting to get clean for his baby sis and to be a good role model. I think it'd be very obvious to you that he's actually trying. He's irritable and really struggling to cope with the fact he has to put the phone down. You can see him obsessively checking his phone for what you'd assume to be a message or notification from one of his hookups. You can tell he's torn up about loosing his partners because he came clean about his unethical practices....

There's no hiding. This is such a deep seeded issue and it is really taking a toll on him. This is something like you said will need YEARS of therapy to fix.

So now Dick is trying to bullshit you a few days later...right in front of your salad! He's just sooo happy and he's proud about this new leaf turned????? Yesterday he looked like he was about to breakdown in tears because he'd been abstinent for just 48 hrs...and now he's glowing???

Dick, your patrol ended at 2 am last night...you came home at 6 am...please don't play with me rn.

not me getting heated. lol

He doesn't explicitly tell you he's back to his old ways. He's willing to keep lying his way into keeping you and this habit but it's undeniable. You know that his gf only forgave him because he lied to her too. It makes you sick when you saw the text of him telling her that he's busy with family and then left out for the rest of the day to go be with someone else.

Maybe you explode on him about it? Last time you were as nice as you could be about it but you cannot deal with the games anymore.

I liked to think in this scenario you're yelling at him and he's just still gas-lighting you, He throws every card to make you feel bad for accusing him. It absolute drives you mad. He's just so calm while you're are trying not to strangle him.

"Baby bat, i love you. I think you're just tired and are imagining things. You're convincing yourself that i'm still the old Dick because you're hurting...i understand and I forgive you. Maybe we should set up therapy sessions to help you let go of the past? Hmm?"

"YOU MOTHER FU-"

Ugh but i love him he's so fucked

The irony of him suggesting you therapy when he's the one riddles with mommy issues and the most insane coping mechanisms...

Dick isn't going to allow you to go no contact. You cannot go no contact with someone you live in the same house with. You are bound to interact and when you are dealing with someone like dick...it just won't work. The bat kids are extremely resilient and are well versed in making someone crack. You wouldn't be the exception.

More realistically you'd probably just be cold towards Dick. That's the best you can do. Not really responding to him and basically stone walling...

But i imagine this version of Dick to be much more forceful. He's done with your self righteousness. How dare you suggest moving out. That isn't an option because he needs to see his baby sister everyday. You are breaking up the family over this. You cannot cut him off because he's flawed...it's not that serious y/n. None of the other siblings are breathing down his neck. Maybe if you weren't so frustrating..he could actually become a better person. You are the one that is preventing him from being better with all your pressure!!

You packed your bags and are fully ready to walk out of this family for good because there's just too many wrong doings swept under the rug and here comes dick who is FUMING... He's trying to rip your bags out of your hands and grab you up..

You are not doing this to him. Stop being so-

Maybe your siblings step in and help you to leave. They help Dick calm down because they respect that it's your choice to live how you'd life.

Dick isn't stopping once you're gone. Especially if you're still in Gotham. There's a shadow that follows you where you go. Tons of messages and calls from unknown numbers. Even scarily enough..a blue toy bird left at your door with a small note that read

"Missed me, my little birdie? We'll be seeing each other again soon."

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palajae · 1 month ago

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than ever! | nrk.

PAIRING... rich kid! riki x reader | GENRE... angst, romance, fluff | WC... 3.9k | warnings... curse words, not proofread | listening to happier than ever by billie eilish :)

may 2025.

your practiced smile meets the bajillion flashes of the cameras, screams by love struck fans, and questions from the nosy reporters. yet all you could focus on was the cold, firm hand placed perfectly at the small of your back.

your husband and you make the picture perfect couple. an ideal appearance for your second year anniversary—you yourself cannot believe how much time has passed.

how you ever managed to make it this far, this long—it’s almost unbelievable.

“what are the lovely couple’s plans after the gala?”

your smile falters just a smidge. probably not even perceptible from any outsider’s perspective.

plans?

ha, says who?

your plan—from the start—was to remain the ideal wife. appear at every public appearance with your husband, by his side, just like this one sponsored by his parents.

and obviously, pretend that you’re happier than ever. every damn time. you laugh softly, smile as bright as the extravagant lights and decor all around you.

the car ride home is silent, as per usual. it’s not like the atmosphere is cold—your driver eyes the both of you through the rear view window—it’s simply dead.

your hand fiddles with the pearl earring on your left ear. mentally, you review your plans for tomorrow. another photoshoot, another interview. once upon a time, you only could’ve imagined a life like this.

what would your parents say? seeing you like this? they gave you away happily, as happy as you tried to seem in front of them.

you feel his eyes on you. it makes you shudder. for a split second, you allow your eyes to flicker over to the body sitting next to you.

you can’t even hate your own husband—you can only feel absolutely fucking nothing towards him now.

his family was one of the most prominent ones in the entertainment industry. and their successor son was the golden child.

you could only dream of the past, the what-ifs and all the warm nostalgia. how your life could have been so different. if you didn’t succumb to fame and success. would your life be utterly different? like back then?

with him?

all your memories contained him smiling, running, fighting, and sweating. he was human—able to love and be loved. so, completely different from the man you married. his flawlessly styled hair and porcelain skin piss you off.

maybe you were too late. grew your power and status, rising to the top of the modeling industry a little too late. if only you got to him, found him, a little bit earlier.

the car comes to a halt. you simply blinked, and suddenly you made it back. it was an unintentional skill you had developed to make the car rides back quicker. you open the door for yourself, automatically walking out.

you can hear his footsteps follow you, the click of his shoes cause you to frown. your husband is following you, yet you want the distance to grow.

you walk faster, only stopping when you hear the pace of his footsteps quicken. your lip curls up in disgust. so, you whip around, crossing your arms with an emotionless expression on your face. you can’t believe you’re wasting your breath again.

“don’t. you embarrass me.”

his eyes are unreadable. “you left your purse in the car.”

your eyes narrow at his grip on the delicate strap. an expensive purse ruined by such a simple action. it almost hurt you like it used to.

you look him dead in the eye when you say, “everything good i have is ruined by you.”

you mean it.

with that, you turn and walk the paved path into your house. with him, you could never call it a home. he made you hate this city. you once thought your husband could be your everything. now it all makes you fucking sick.

unlike before, you’re happier than ever to be apart from him, while you can only dream of the one that got away.

there’s only one rags-to-riches, real life cinderella, story. and it’s yours.

your humble background is what allowed you to become so successful—to be named the “it-girl” of the nation. it allowed you to meet and marry the perfect man. your life now is what others dream of, what people talk about on the internet and what fans obsess over.

looking back, would you do it all over again?

august 2017.

you wipe the sweat off your forehead as you clean the table with one final sweep of the rag. you hear the whistle blowing from the field across your family’s small store.

was it time already?

growing up next to the most prestigious academy in the nation came with its pros and cons.

pro: the rich kids stopped by.

cons: the rich kids stopped by.

but business was business, after all. when business was slow, you would watch the faint figures, looking like peanuts, run across the field with a ball, about the same size as a pin. it made you laugh to yourself, seeing such tenacious, rich boys freak out over a rubber sphere filled with air.

“do you guys sell taiyaki?”

you blink at the boyish frizzled hair, glistening honey-kissed skin, and ruffled grass-stained jersey.

“…this is a convenience store.”

“well, then-anything with custard?”

you fumble before quickly stalking over to the small refrigerated area at his expectant look. you doubted it, but maybe… sometimes, your mother stocked up on the desserts—when he was in a good mood.

looking past the glass, you exhale before turning to the soccer player sheepishly, “um.. no, but we have frozen red bean buns?”

you trail off awkwardly, scratching the side of your head. you gesture towards the exit, “you know, there’s a bakery down the street… you could’ve gone there first,” you add with a mumble.

he simply nods and leaves without another word.

you cross your arms, peeking out the door to watch his figure get smaller and smaller until it eventually disappeared. you scrunch your nose up—what a weird guy.

you squint at the fine print on the back of his jersey:

nishimura #09

must be a soccer player at the nearby academy. what were the chances you watched him play on that field without knowing?

the players often came after a long practice to grab drinks and snacks, but this was the first time you had ever seen him before. when you told your mother about the weird encounter, she only shook her head.

it’s only after that day you begin to hear whispers of the next upcoming pro soccer star—nishimura riki. you’re a little surprised to find out that strange guy was a soccer prodigy.

you’re even more surprised when nishimura begins to become a regular. some days he comes in nonchalantly, asking for a protein drink, and other days he simply comes and sits down without some made up excuse.

“don’t you have school work? a house to stay at and family to be with?” you ask, not out of annoyance, but genuine curiosity. your mother shoots you a sharp glare that you look away at.

“soccer is my life,” he replies simply. you observe his designer backpack and newest model phone. what kind of life did riki live in which he never wanted to go home?

“that’s okay. here, you can relax,” your mom assures him. that’s the first time you see riki smile.

his soccer friends will occasionally join him. you have to actively hide the disdain on your face when all the ruckus and stink of them enter the store. you could stand nishimura riki, but not him with his friends.

you didn’t really notice until the fan girls started piling up at the door, it causes you to study riki with a sigh. your cheeks warm, you suppose…

he was sort of handsome?

pinching your nose bridge exasperatedly, you glare at riki. “can you tell them to leave? they’re disturbing customers and blocking the door. this is horrible for our business.”

riki looks up, “who?”

you grip the broom tighter in your hands and point it outside like it was a weapon.

“they’re not my problem,” he only shrugs. you roll your eyes, “please?”

your mom shoots the two of you an amused glance from the cashier desk.

riki groans before getting up with a click of his tongue, “since you asked so nicely.”

you watch his games with stars in your eyes, sitting in the far bleachers with your mom. a bag of freshly cooked side dishes sit by your feet, waiting to be given at the end of the match that riki would win. your gaze could never leave him.

every movement of his, the sheer determination and fire burning in his eyes, it only inspired you. you never knew how much love a person hold towards a passion until you met nishimura riki.

he was born for soccer. or, soccer was made for him. maybe, one day, you could find your own spark.

during christmas, riki helps you set up a small tree outside the store. you giggle as he struggles to hang up the ornaments.

seeing the wonder in his eyes, akin to a small child opening presents for the first time, it makes you wonder if he has ever done this before. after all, he spent all of his time at the convenience store with you whenever he wasn’t practicing. he never once mentioned his family or home. he never acted snotty or spoiled like the other academy kids, no matter how talented and rich he was.

you learned although riki has such a lavish life, it could never be as rich as a life like this—full of love and happiness. right?

his hands linger over yours as you put the finishing touch, the twinkling star, on the top.

“it’s best to share the christmas spirit with everyone,” you say decisively and the smile he sends you after makes you think…

you may have a small crush on him.

you’re the most surprised when a rather intimidating lady in sunglasses pops by the convenience store one afternoon, handing you a business card.

“why do you look shocked? you’re pretty.”

you blush at riki’s simple statement.

modeling? you had never considered it, that’s for sure. you always thought you were going to become a writer. after all, your mother always praised your literature skills.

her face is unreadable, she was only looking at you the entire time the scouting manager was talking to you.

“what do you think, mom?” you glance at her curiously.

“it’s your choice…of course.”

you study the card with scrunched up eyebrows. trying it out wouldn’t hurt, right? and some extra money for the family would be nice, as well.

the first gig that you you were able to book, your life changed forever.

your mom smiles and kisses your forehead. a small, white dainty bag is shoved to your face. you blink, eyes focusing on the words. they bulge as you gasp at riki.

“how much was this? you-“

he huffs as he pats your head, “congrats. it’s nonrefundable, so don’t try to return it.”

you glance up at him, emotions swirling through your eyes. suddenly, your arms are thrown around him. he’s speechless, eyes wide and wind knocked out of him. for a moment—you really felt like your hearts stopped. together, in sync.

for just that one second, the world stopped revolving.

however, he isn’t able to respond when your mother comes back in the store with an unreadable expression.

“riki.”

you feel him freeze, turn cold right in your arms. you glance out, at the polished mercedes benz parked and waiting outside. perhaps that was the start of the end.

riki suddenly bows to the both of you. “thank you. for everything i, um…”

the car honks, and he gives you one last lingering look before heading out. you stare at the bag, and then your mom, whose expression makes your stomach drop.

“he’s not coming back, is he?”

february 2023.

“aren’t you excited?”

“obviously! i would be if i was marrying a rich guy like him. plus, just look at his face! and body-i mean, his proportions are crazy.…”

you tune out the chatter, closing your eyes. the hair stylist puts her finishing touches on your hair while the makeup artist sprays a fixer on your face.

“-y/n?”

your eyes fly open. “hm?”

they look at you, more excitement in their eyes than you ever had when finding out.

“aren’t you happy? this is going to be the wedding of the century! all the top idols and celebs are invited…”

“a love story just like in the dramas-!”

you stare at your reflection in the mirror. every day not already booked with your work schedule was spent on the wedding. it made you sick.

trying on different dresses, experimenting out makeup and hair styles, you simply nodded to it all. whatever made your mom happy, sure.

how many flavors of cake were you going to taste? how many tiers were there going to be? none of it was necessary.

you were sick of planning all the flowers, and draperies, and light fixtures like you even had a say in the first place.

you always imagined that you would get married in a simple courtyard, with only close friends and family. wearing your mom’s dress, eating home cooked food family style.

all with your groom right by your side. your husband who would happy with anything, as the only thing that mattered was getting married to you. one time, you had dreamed of marrying him with that forever smirk on his face, smelling constantly like grass and men’s deodorant that you never found out the name of.

but a fantasy would always remain a fantasy.

how long would you stay stuck in the past?

you close your eyes again, and the words ring in your ears just like when your now fiancé spoke to you.

my parents were going to set me up with a stranger. i thought this proposal would be for the best.

your eyebrows twitch.

you motherfucker.

it all made sense. the media would eat it up. your parents would eat it up. and now that you had established your presence in the industry, so would his parents.

how could you say no?

you didn’t even have a choice. the agreement was signed faster than you could open your mouth and protest. this marriage—no, this agreement, was the best thing that could’ve ever happened to you.

and yet, all you could wonder is,

did he actually come up with the idea?

or was it all a business tactic?

october 2019.

the wind blows the crispy leaves across the pavement. you don’t have to wear a mask or any sort of identity-covering clothing, yet. but you do have a manager who has allowed you two hours of free time.

your parent’s convenience store closed down last year in order for you to focus on your rising career. it was a simple curiosity that dragged you back to check on the spot.

although it’s a tech store now, you’ll never forget the time you spent here growing up. and then, meeting someone you never expected to change your li-

the call of your name breaks you out of your trance.

that voice.

it can’t be.

you whip around, hair flying behind you. your jaw drops, “r-riki?”

you can’t believe it, hands shaking. in front of you stands a taller, sturdier nishimura riki. gosh, how much time had passed?

you lost his number when you switched to a newer, better phone and subscription plan. you thought you had lost him forever.

he slowly walks up to you, identical smiles mirroring each other and growing on both of your faces.

“i can’t believe it… w-what are you doing here?”

unconsciously, you grip his track jacket. as if, you had to check and make sure he was actually in front of you. you weren’t dreaming again, right?

“i finally got a break from training. my coaches said we could go anywhere and…” he shrugs before gesturing at the former convenience store.

“i didn’t know it closed down. this is the first time i was able to come back.”

your eyes sparkle, “you’re still playing?”

he nods and you breathe out a sigh of relief. “good. you’re too good for the sport.”

he laughs and you almost melt at the sound.

“wanna take a little walk?”

it’s too comfortable, you fall into your old rhythm again. a pleasant silence falls over the two of you as you walk past the stores, the old soccer field, strolling past your childhood.

“i wanted to come back, so many times,” he murmurs. you cautiously glance up at him, waiting silently for him to continue.

he scratches the back of his neck, “but playing for the u-20s doesn’t really allow that so…”

“i-i tried looking for you online, though.”

you mask your laugh with a cough. “ah. that must be because my manager controls all my accounts. they must’ve thought it was spam or a prank. sorry.”

riki’s quick to shake his head, “no, no. i get it. we’re both busy. but maybe we could, like, stay in touch this time.”

you kick a stray leaf with your foot, hiding a bashful expression.

“we should.”

he turns to you, and you realize you made it back to where your store once stood. it’s much darker—your manager is going to be mad. your mother, too.

“promise. promise you’ll make it to the world cup and promise you’ll keep me updated.”

“i promise. you’ll be right by my side cheering, right?”

when he takes a step closer, you swallow. then, you close your eyes. a beat passes, two beats.

a sharp inhale and then you feel something warm press against your lips. only for a second.

it’s nice. it feels.. right.

you decide then and there: nishimura riki just might be your first love. you hope, secretly and privately, somehow, he’ll be your last too.

july 2021.

“y/n!” your manager hisses and you hold back a huff. “come here-there’s someone you need to meet!”

you quickly bid farewell to a friend, a recently debuted idol in the industry, and scramble as fast as you can over in those damned heels.

as soon as you reach her, you slow and the inviting smile is wiped off your face. there, standing right in front of you, is a man you don’t recognize.

you refuse to recognize him.

“this is nishimura riki! you might have heard of him on the news recently. he’s the future successor, taking over-“

that’s actually hilarious. she knew you didn’t have time to check the news anymore. her words are drowned out in the realization of it all.

for the first six months, the two of you were good at staying in touch. you couldn’t really meet with you flying all over the world for shoots and riki with his rigorous training schedule.

but you were convinced you could keep it up. maybe he wasn’t. or maybe it was a mutual understanding—busy schedules and changing lives were a lot to handle. you don’t know who sent the last message and who failed to respond. it’s been a little too long to remember anything but the lingering feelings.

you frown, “your hair is up.”

he falters, before fixing his tie. “yeah, i-they told me it looks more professional.”

the nishimura riki you knew hated having his bangs out of his face. he hated stiff, restrictive clothes and all that fancy attire.

“you look nice.”

you take a step back.

future ceo?

you weren’t dumb. you knew the nishimura family was powerful. you just didn’t know he was weak enough to succumb to it. you actually thought he would be the one to break free and follow his dreams.

“i thought… i thought you had finally done it, riki,” you say softly, staring sadly into his dark eyes. they don’t hold the same light and energy as they used to.

“why are you doing this to yourself?”

he takes a step closer and you bite the inside of your cheek. you hate this riki. you hate the fancy, expensive smell that wafts off him. you want to wash it off.

his confused expression makes you want to puke.

“i don’t have a choice.”

“you were right there!” you jab a finger accusingly into his chest, before your hand drops lifelessly to your side. you turn away with confusion, disgust, and hurt brewing internally. you didn’t know this man.

“i love you.”

your heart stops. your feet still. yet, all you can do is shake your head.

“stop.”

he takes your hand and it’s cold and smooth and not like the calloused, warm hands of nishimura riki. how could he change this much in less than a year?

“i’ll do anything to get you back—please! i don’t care that my parents want me to find a rich heiress, i’ll tell them my eyes are only for you.”

his words only made you wonder—did he ever notice your face plastered on billboards? read any of your interviews posted online?

you turn around with mirth swimming in your pupils, “oh, that’s very kind of you. use all the power and fame you’ve gained.”

he frowns.

“aren’t you just saying that because you’re scared? you aren’t any different--you’re just like me.”

at that, you feel your heart shatter. you weren’t any different from nishimura riki?

after everything, you’d never understand him, you guess. and he’d never understand you.

“just fucking leave me alone.”

present day.

the interviewer sits in front of you with a warm smile, your eyes fall on the giant vogue printed on the microphone.

the majority of the questions are simple and surface-level, you run through them with practiced ease. it’s not until she reaches the end and pulls out the heavier ones that you falter.

“did you always want to become a model?”

“no, actually.. to be frank, i never considered it before.”

“oh, really? what did you want to do?”

you cross your arms, then uncross them. your heel clacks against the polished floor. you swallow harshly, looking away from the bright lights. “actually, i… don’t know. i never really had the chance to think about it before i was scouted.”

the interviewer notices the change in your energy, which makes her laugh cautiously.

“that’s fine! enough of the past, let’s move on to the present. and this’ll be the last question: do you feel like you’re satisfied with where you are now?”

her inquisitive eyes suddenly makes your mouth dry. you lick your lips. sensing your apprehensiveness, she tries her best to smooth over the heavy question.

it backfires.

“most say you’re in your prime—after all, you’ve reached the peak of your career and you’re married to your childhood sweetheart, nishimura riki ! you must be content, or do you still feel like there’s more to accomplish?”

you pledged yourself, in sickness and in health, to the man you once loved and lost. you hate that your “dream” came true. you simply smile, voice cracking only the slightest when you answer,

“couldn’t be happier than ever.”

a/n: hi guys!! i wanted to try something different from my usual works with side characters, humor, and an "ideal" relationship, etc. haha. i just felt like exploring the more darker, deeper, and more problematic concepts. i think with this reader and riki, there are a lot of unresolved issues on both sides. idk, i enjoyed the pressure of not having a happy ending or resolution. sorry for being mia but hope you enjoyed anyway <3

#enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #niki x reader #niki fluff #niki scenarios #niki imagines #nishimura riki x reader

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pillowspace · 1 year ago

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HI….👉👈 AM I ALLOWED TO ASK ABOUT YOUR SIBLINGS AU????

sooo so curious if you have an facts or tidbits to share like! whats their dynamic like? is there any Backstory to this oooor just for fun? i am. very very interested ehe

(only if u want to tho!!)

(About this post and this post)

Mmmm! Let me see what I can think of!

Mal's full first name is Maldu. I imagine everyone would call them Mal except for Odile, since she calls Bonnie Boniface, and would presumably call Mal "Maldu."

Mal is like 12-15, I'm not really strict on the exact age. Since Mal would be the second youngest, they would probably like following Bonnie around even if Mal doesn't really know how to "play" or anything. They just kinda... stand there and try to curiously mirror whatever Bonnie does.

Mal is a bit quiet. They can speak, but they don't do so often, and are more likely to speak when they're upset than when they're pleased.

The red star that hangs from their bandana cannot be seen in colour unless Mal is especially upset. Not the most upset of their life like Siffrin, but even just a big cry could cause the star to shine for everyone to see.

Mal is very sensitive and cries easily. Siffrin's grown practiced at calming them down but still gets freaked out by the sudden tears.

Mal likes quietly watching and listening. They enjoy being taught by their allies how to perform certain tasks, and will give that wide-eyed look of a silent "really??" when praised for doing something right. They soak up praise like a sponge due to a perpetual feeling of doing something wrong.

While their right eye spirals, Mal's left iris is entirely white! It's usually covered by the slanted hat, however.

And! I hadn't actually really thought of a backstory until just now, but does this work? I think it maybe could

Siffrin accidentally created Mal through Wish Craft when he had a mental breakdown as a child/teen soon after the northern island's disappearance, though neither of them know this, and they did not meet until a couple years after this happened. Mal's existence slowly came to be with a clear understanding that they existed for a reason, but they weren't sure why. When Siffrin and Mal eventually crossed paths, it was like finding a second half that you hadn't even realized you had lost. Though even after meeting, the two are still unsure of how this happened to begin with. As far as Siffrin's concerned, the two just "clicked," and does not remember the breakdown. Meanwhile Mal's not really sure where they came from or what they are, but they gladly latch onto the protection Siffrin offers.

Mal is simultaneously an extension of Siffrin, and a separate being entirely. Mal was made from Siffrin's soul, even if Siffrin hadn't meant to share himself like that. When one is hurt, the other shares the echoes of their pain. Mal likely severely panicked when Siffrin lost the eye, and the echoing pain in Mal's own head surely didn't help. If ONE panicked kid (Bonnie) wasn't enough, you also get TWO in this AU! Congrats!

Since Mal was created from Siffrin's distraught state, it reflects through Mal in certain ways. How sensitive they are, how timid they are, their unease, their anxiety, etc. Siffrin's helping Mal every step of the way though, and is very protective of them, urging his allies to be gentle with them.

#ask #isat au #isat spoilers #in stars and time spoilers #in stars and time au #little sibling mdp au #isat #in stars and time

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tojikai · 11 months ago

Text

Permanent Mark⁺ : FORLORN

Grateful to @mikeyslvrr for commissioning and for the support~♡

Pairing: Gojo x reader

Permanent Mark Masterlist

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, death, mentions of pregnancy, implied suicide

word count: 2.6k

a/n: this alternate storyline imagines what could have happened if Y/N had faced a different fate.

He's merely a ghost, beseeching to be haunted by your echoes.

I’ll make things right. I shouldn’t be too late, right? My Y/N and I will be fine. The moment she wakes up, I will apologize. I’ll tell her I messed things up. That I made the wrong decision. That I’m coming home with her. That I’ll never leave again.

We’re gonna make it.

“She didn’t make it.”

Satoru’s steps halted. The world halted. He's been pacing back and forth in the hospital corridor. Despite the chaos of the people coming in and out of the hospital, the voices bouncing on the white walls, and the cries of families who want nothing but to go home with their loved ones, the ticking of Satoru’s wristwatch is still the loudest.

It felt like every second added another boulder on his shoulder, making it harder to drag his feet on the tiled walls. Rie looked like she’d been awake all night when they’d only been here for a couple of minutes. Satoru could almost feel the blood behind his eyes, his nerves waiting to burst and he would be covered in it.

Covered in blood, drenched in guilt, weighed down by regrets.

The doctor’s words reverberated inside his head. The roof of his mouth felt strangely hot as he heard cries behind him. Then, he was tackled to the ground. He didn’t even try to fight back, he just welcomed each blow that his best friend threw on his face, growling “You fucking bastard,” He could hear Rie screaming and his vision blurring as he struggled to stand up, “Y/N, let me see my Y/N.” It was an incoherent murmur as he tried to get to her door.

He was a bit dizzy from the blow and his knees were too weak to fight back. He felt like a bird with tied wings as two people restrained him from going to the room. Satoru could tell that his nose was bleeding but this is nothing compared to losing you.

The irreversibility of his mistakes is now staring him right in the face and he has no choice but to stare back.

He can hear Suguru cursing him out while his tears bring forth realizations: Your parents were inside, after a long time of absence and months of separation from you, this is the first time that they’re seeing you again, not even breathing. The last thing you’d remember of them was how they never cared, neglecting you until you lost colors.

And Satoru… the last thing you'll remember of him will be his anger, his hatred, and the pain he caused you by turning your years of love into dust. The last thing you'll remember of him will be how he put someone else above you, even though he was the summit of your world.

The last thing you’ll remember is being unloved. By your family. By the man you love.

Satoru tried to claw his way past the arms that were holding him back, begging for just a glimpse. He cannot believe that it’s true unless he sees you. But even if he does…his brain and his heart wouldn’t allow him to believe it too. The next thing made everything impossible for him as he lost strength in all of his limbs and eventually blacked out.

“Y/N.” He called out one last time before closing his eyes.

—---------------------------------

Earlier

You can hear your sobs, and your heartbeats are like loud knocks in your ears. You sped up, vision spinning but this is nothing compared to the throbbing pain in your chest. You want to go as fast as you can, believing that maybe then your wheels would burn and dry all the tears that are running down your face. Everything around you was softened by the pools in your eyes.

Even the setting sun looked like a watercolor painting before you, the second brightest thing in your world.

You bit your lip to control your sadness from spilling out. You want to block out the words he said to you, you want to forget how he looked at you there. How those eyes you still love so much now look at you with such reproach, almost disdainful. Even at that moment, they still look so vibrant, enough to color a town. You let out a strained gasp, grasping your shirt as you come to a realization:

You will be stuck in this monochrome box as he paints someone else’s home.

Before you knew it, the sun had disappeared and there was only darkness in front of you. You blinked away your tears but it didn’t work. Where am I driving? You asked yourself but it was too late to hit the brakes. For a very short moment—a split second even—your flesh trembled before you heard a loud crash.

And then there was nothing. The sun was eaten up by that darkness in front of you and engulfed you along with it. Your body doesn’t feel like it belongs to you. You hear voices but the sound is distorted when they reach your ears. You couldn’t move. Slowly, you felt like you were sinking to the ground. The noises were getting faint and you could barely feel your heartbeat in your chest.

You slipped in and out of your consciousness, each time more chaotic than the last. There was the sound of the siren and a white dancing light pointing directly into your eyes. You can barely feel the air entering your lungs. Am I dying? You wanted to ask but your body was too numb.

If you are, this is going to be your second death today.

—---------------------------------

“Just let me be with her for a bit, Ma'am. Please,” Satoru didn't stop the tears from coming as he begged your mother. He knows he doesn't deserve it; he doesn't deserve to mourn you but there's nothing he wouldn't do. After everything that happened at the party, it all felt like a nightmare to him; something so unreal that up until now he still refuses to believe it.

His mother was with him during the burial, as he begged on his knees for a last moment. But your parents weren’t as soft as you. Even as he looked into your kind father’s eyes, he couldn’t find an ounce of pity. Why would he feel sorry for the man who tore his daughter apart? Out of all the hurtful things your mother has said, your father’s last words to Satoru are the ones that scarred him the deepest. It will haunt his ghost til its next life:

“I hope your guilt doesn’t consume you as completely as my daughter’s love for you did to her.”

Finding out about your pregnancy was another knife, twisting in his chest. The fact that you never found out was another bullet to his heart. So, you weren’t the only one he abandoned that day. Your heart wasn’t the only one he broke. It wasn’t just your own sadness you were carrying inside you but the unborn future’s lamentation too.

Til the very end, the people looked at him as nothing but a man with clean hands and a blood-stained shirt. “Come to think of it, even in her last moments she saved you.” Suguru spat at his face when they ran into each other during the funeral. The main reason for the accident was your alcohol intoxication. But Suguru knows too damn well why it all happened.

The only one that wept with him was the sky. The thunders screamed the same accusations at him. The people will see his cries as tears of guilt but no one will understand how his heart died with you in that hospital bed. No one will know how the things he did will forever sleep with him under his pillows, hammering words into his head.

Rie is a strong woman, watching him on his knees, bawling his eyes out as he screamed his love for you to nothingness. She’s a tough woman, entering his room only to hear him label his relationship with her as a mistake, wailing for a do-over. She’s a brave woman who holds him in her arms, whispering her love for him only to be answered with murmurs of I’m sorry’s.

Rie is strong, but a month is too long to stay with someone who will forever yearn for another.

She was hoping for him to stop her, maybe just ask her to give him time, it wouldn’t have mattered how long but he never did. “I’m sorry.” He said, nodding as he traced the mouth of his cup. “Will you be fine?” She asked, first, out of concern and second, to allow a bit of time in hopes that he’d change his mind.

“No, but it’s alright.” He spoke, eyes void of emotion. They almost looked more grey rather than blue now. “Whatever that has happened is on me. I shouldn't have even let it happen.” She knows that he’s not just referring to the accident. His blunt confession of how his relationship with her was a mistake sends a chill down her spine and an ache in her entire being.

How could he so openly tell her that he regrets being with her?

She guessed it was a small price to pay for taking part in breaking someone’s heart. And the larger bill was outside, lurking as she was faced with whispers in every company she tried working on, the continuous ringing of the numbers she called, and the neverending hours of one-sided conversations with her friends.

The rust of guilt will eat away at her bones as she tries to crawl back to where she came from.

Shoko was never the one to hold grudges. But for the longest time, she couldn’t talk to Satoru. She’d find herself spending most of her free time with you, even if she never got answers. Then she’d leave again like she always did before. If she regrets something, it’d be not being to be with you as much as she should be as a friend. Her job doesn’t allow for much time for rest.

Just like how it doesn’t allow enough time for mourning.

“You need to start continuing your life. You’re just insulting Y/N being like that now.” She looked away as she lit a cigarette. She called Satoru over to her clinic today, worried about how his mother called her crying when he wouldn’t answer his phone. It’s almost been a year since your passing and she could barely recognize him.

“Do you know where Suguru is?” He asked, voice hoarse as he licked his cracked lips. Shoko was grateful that his mother chose to take over his business. It’ll only fall down with him like this. He was breathing but barely alive. “Do not try to talk to him.” That’s the only thing she said, but Satoru already understands.

Suguru didn’t want to blame his friend when he was obviously devastated too. But hearing the doctor’s words that day, the first thing he thought of was that if Satoru hadn’t provoked it, you wouldn’t have left and driven drunk. He’d sound selfish if he said he was the most crushed of them all but how else does he cope with a loss of a love that never began?

The last time he’s been to your grave was on the burial day. He never went back again. He thought that maybe if he didn’t see it as much, his mind wouldn’t think of it like that. Maybe his mind wouldn’t remember your death. Maybe he can fool himself into thinking you’re just somewhere far away, working at your mother’s company.

“You don’t get to feel sad. You don’t get to feel sad as much as I do. Not when you already killed her before she even died in that accident.” He pulled at his friend's collar as tears streamed down their faces. “You don’t get to feel sad after what you’ve done, Satoru.” Suguru fears that even after years, he’d still feel resentment for his friend.

“If you weren’t planning on treating her well, you should’ve just let me love her instead, Satoru.” He let his shirt go along with the emotions he was hiding. “If you weren’t planning on keeping her, you should’ve just left her alone.” He whispered, stepping away as he turned his back to him, regaining his composure. This man is grieving too, he reminded himself.

The grief was heavier than the sea of blue in his eyes.

He looked so drained, like he died along with you and maybe he did, because staring into his eyes, Suguru couldn’t find his best friend anymore. When confronted by the uncontrollable materialization of the consequences of their actions, humans deteriorate from the inside.

He wanted to hug him, to cry with him, and let him put some of his heaviest feelings on him but he couldn't. “Live well, Satoru. Y/N wouldn’t want you like this,” He sniffed, running a hand down his face as he turned to his friend again, tapping his shoulder before stepping out.

It’s so hard to feel bad for someone who brought the tragedy upon themselves.

Years will pass and Satoru remains the same, an empty skeleton of who he was before, a vessel of memories and the love you generously left, a cage of regret, guilt, and suffering that he harvested from bad seeds that he planted. “It shall pass,” The doctor said, passing him a blister pack, “You’ll feel better with time.” It just makes him want to laugh. The man doesn’t understand that what he needs can’t be found in this world.

He would lie awake for hours, with exhaustion gnawing at him but still his eyes remained stubbornly open. Reality was punishing him by keeping him awake, blocking out his only means of escape and portal to you. Drinking wasn’t a solution, it was more of a problem. There was this one time that he drank so much, he thought he was seeing you.

His mother found him on his knees, his forehead touching the floor as he begged you to come back, apologizing to the air as his tears hit the tiles of his house. It’s no use, you will never come back and even then, his hallucinations of you were inanimate, unmoving, and cold.

He gazed at a jar filled with wilting flowers on the table—some had lost their color, while others were on the verge of fading. Standing up, he fetched a new one in his jacket’s pocket and cut off its stem before carefully placing it with the others.

These flowers came from the bouquets that he left on your grave. Each time he’d visit, he’d take one flower with him and keep it in this jar. It’s his way of coping, thinking that he still has a piece of you with him. It felt both comforting and painfully inadequate. Satoru doubts that anything will ever change in his life. Even if each person on Earth introduces someone or something new to him, nothing will fill the void.

Satoru wondered if you saw him as others do: merely guilty, not genuinely in love. It’d be another blow to his already beaten-up heart. Listening to the ticking of the clock, his shadow cast on the wall of his room. The quiet was eerie; it had been for years. This house had lost its colors long ago.

It is during these times when he remembers how you’d spent sleepless nights together, just soaking in the presence of one another. Maybe if he sleeps, he’d dream of how you used to rest your head on his chest. Taking the last of his pill, Satoru stared at his ceiling one last time.

As he closed his eyes, he prayed to wake up beside you.

Permanent Mark Masterlist

#angst #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo angst #gojo x you #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk #jjk x reader #commission #kai.commis

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fatuismooches · 11 months ago

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More Dottore and Fragile Reader voice lines, except it's your turn this time. A part two to this. Previous voice lines are here.

About Prime Dottore:

"Zandik. My one and only… words cannot express my tenderness and love toward him. I refuse to forget any moment I've spent with him. Not once has he given up on me, despite the times I’ve given up on myself. And he has always taken care of me, not once faltering in over four hundred years. I- I don’t know what to do sometimes when faced with that information. I wish I could be… less of a burden on him…”

About Omega:

"Omega, huh... he is the only segment where I always spend time with completely alone. See, he's not prone to sharing, just like Prime. I don't mind much, honestly, it's nice to get away from all of the noise and be with him. He always coaxes me to be more selfish too... is it a good or bad thing he's influencing me?"

About Alpha:

"Yes, the grumpy cutie I met all those years ago, the start of it all. He says that my presence is a hindrance and it only disrupts his work, but we both know that's false. Often, I like to sit by him as he writes his notes, pointing out all the errors caused by the atrocity of his handwriting... Sometimes, I feel bad using him as a reminder of the past."

About Beta:

"It always baffles me that Beta was once how Dottore acted. I mean, have you seen the difference between 'Mega and Beta? Anyway... he's always such a fun segment to hang around! Even when his assistants cower behind me in fear! Oh, and whenever he goes 'he-he-ho-ho', it always makes me giggle. Please don't tell him I did that impression of him though."

About Delta:

"Oh, Delta's... pretty mean. A really big meanie, if I do say so myself. He never laughs, never smiles, never entertains my shenanigans, always sees right through me... so rude. Huh? Don't worry about me, I'm allowed to talk about him like this. I still love him, after all."

About Zeta:

"Zeta's always so elusive! It was such a pain to track him down at first, he was always avoiding me. I thought he hated me... but once I got a hold of him, he is always so attentive to me! However, it greatly saddens me that he thinks he "failed" me... and yet he doesn't know how much it hurts me more that I've caused him to be like this."

About Zandy:

"Have you met my son? He's the sweetest little thing, isn't he? I remember how shy he was in the beginning, but he quickly grew to be such a dear. Always so excited and eager for attention. I can't help but wonder if Dottore's life could have been different if more people were kinder to him as a child."

About Pierro:

"I will always be indebted to him and Her Highness for taking me in. He is pretty scary to be around, but I feel sort of bad for him. I can't imagine how much responsibility he has... I once promised him I'd work for the Fatui once I'm better, but he didn't react much. Hmph, I'll show him how much I can boost Dottore's efficiency!"

About Capitano:

"The only thing I really know about him is that he's incredibly strong and well respected, at least from other people. The single time I met him, I also learned he was quite well liked by animals too, but it's hard to get any more information when he's so quiet..."

About Columbina:

"Bina is the best friend I've always wanted. I'm glad she's always there for me whenever things go bad. Although I can never predict what she's going to do or say, which is pretty strange, considering who I'm with, that makes her company all the more fun. Still, the amount of embarrassing situations she's tricked me into with Dottore... makes my head hurt."

About Arlecchino:

"I wish we could be closer, but I don't think it'll ever happen. I can't really blame her though, the relationship between her and Dottore is... not the greatest, for reasons I understand. I wonder what she thinks of me, the person who still stands by his side despite his sins?"

About Pulcinella:

"Oh... the little grandpa? I've always wondered how he's the fifth rank, but there's probably more to it than I know. Regardless, I didn't expect him to be so kind to me. I only see him once in a while, but every time he seems to know how I'm doing. And then, he proceeds to give me the best advice, exactly what I needed to hear at that moment, even when it has to do with Dottore. It's kind of scary..."

About Scaramouche:

"Ah yes... the Balladeer. He always wants to start up something with me whenever we cross paths, which is why my patience runs very thin around him. I hope the next time he goes into the Abyss, he gets stuck there."

About Wanderer:

"Who?"

About Sandrone:

"Her research sounds so cool! I've seen some of the things she can create, and it's completely fascinating. I too once had a love for machines back when I was a student. It's just a shame she never comes out of her lab... there are never any chances for me to talk with her. Well, I can always talk with Alpha and Beta about their research at least."

About La Signora:

"I've barely ever seen or spoken to her, but she has my respect. I heard what happened to her husband. If I ever lost Dottore, I'm not sure if I'd be able to go on... or at least be as half as strong as she is."

About Pantalone:

"Oh, Lone's one of my good friends! He always has such unique ideas for me to get back at Dottore, and listening to him talk about his theories quite reminds me of listening to Dottore. He's helped me a lot, dealing with this man. Still... as he does with everyone, I'm kept at arm's length. It doesn't bother me, but I wish I could help him in some way. But I know that'll never be possible."

About Childe:

"Despite being a Harbinger, he's a lot nicer than you'd think. Well, especially compared to the others in the Fatui. He's great at conversation, his family is the sweetest... and he always promises to spar with me once I'm no longer sick. Truly great company. Too bad Dottore's attitude toward him is... less than favorable."

About Furina:

"At first I hated her just like all the other Gods, but after learning the truth, I can't help but greatly respect her. To take on such a burden without having a single shoulder to lean on and succeed in the end... I think I've been through a lot of pain, but at least I've had Dottore and the others to ease it even just a bit. But she had no one, and I admire her will."

About Nahida:

"I try not to waste my time on things that upset me. It's not good for my health."

Sprint Start:

"No, no, I am not running at all. Look, if I get hurt and Dottore finds out it was your fault, you'll be the ones strapped to the table, not me. Hey... I wouldn't mind being in that position, actually."

Chat - Worry:

"I hope that one day he can make peace with himself."

Chat - Old Times:

"Sometimes I wish I was just a simple student again, having no worries other than my grades and pulling all-nighters with Dottore. Actually, that doesn't really sound relaxing, does it?"

Chat - Idling:

"If you're just going to stand here doing nothing, then I'm going to take a seat over there."

When it Snows:

"Would you be willing to distract Dottie so I can chuck a snowball at him? No? How boring."

When the Sun is Out:

"It's a perfect day to have a picnic and listen to him rant again."

In the Desert:

"... Omega, Beta, Delta, I don't care which one of you does it, get over here and make your hands completely ice cold before I faint."

Something to Share - Talent:

"If you ever need help writing something, you can ask me. I wrote some pretty good essays back in the day, you know. Dottore once said I should even write a book! I thought he was bullying me, but he was actually serious, for some reason. Maybe I should get Zandy to draw some pictures?"

Something to Share - Secret:

"Dottore actually has quite a sweet tooth. Well, this probably isn't much of a secret anymore because I accidentally spilled it to the agents, but it would do you good to keep this in mind."

Interesting Things - Foxttore:

"This little guy here? He'll do you no harm unless I say so, so don't worry. He was one of Dottie's failed experiments roaming the lab until he gifted the creature to me! These pufflings too, surprisingly they help me a lot more than you'd think. They're pretty strong, carrying all my things."

Favorite Pastimes - Meals:

"It's time to eat already? No need to worry about me, I'll just wait for a segment. See, it's best for both of us if I have company while I eat. My hands... aren't the most reliable."

Troubles:

"I am very happy that they have a good place to conduct all the research they want, but I wish they paid some more attention to me sometimes. Voicing this complaint over and over again, however, is too exhausting."

Amusement:

"Dottore's fan club never ceases to amuse me. I know every Harbinger has one but... it's completely hilarious. To go so far as creating a handbook about the two of us... well, I appreciate the dedication and the laughs, especially when I update Dottore on their activities. He may not care, but I support them!"

#smooches talks #dottore love notes <3 #fragile reader <3 #zandy bb <3 #playable reader <3 #dottore x reader #can we get more playable reader asks pls #im humbly begging my anons #im crazy for them #divider by cafekitsune

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princessvelaryon · 10 months ago

Text

I’ll Wait For You, and I’ll Burn - Preview

Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader (Jace’s sister)

Synopsis: You are at attempting to enjoy your engagement party to Gwayne Hightower, your boyfriend of 6 months. Half of the guests are shocked to see the arrival of your brother’s best friend and most importantly, your ex, Cregan Stark. Although nervous to see him after your break-up two years ago, you cannot resist him when he asks to steal a dance and to talk to you, for one last time.

Themes: Angst, fluff, smut, flashbacks, non-linear story, childhood friends to lovers, childhood sweethearts, high school sweethearts, break-ups, ex’s, slight family drama

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

“You’ve never been a big drinker, Love. You never were able to hold your liquor well. You couldn’t help but smile at the memories of you, Cregan and your friends all sneaking liquor in high school. Cregan, being a Stark, always had the highest tolerance. You tried to keep up with him but every time, it would end up with Cregan carrying you home bridal style in his strong arms.

“Matter of fact, you never drink this much unless you’re nervous or upset. Or a bit of both.” He leaned a little closer to you to whisper, “You know how I know? Because you were never nervous around me. Expect maybe the first time we—“

“Cregan…” You warned halfheartedly. Part of you, the part you were trying do desperately to ignore, was wishing for him to continue his sweet sentiments. “Besides my low tolerance, you know exactly why I don’t drink a lot.”

The smile dropped from his face and his grey eyes swirled with sympathy and regret. “I know…and I’m sorry.”

You looked away from his piercing eyes, at a loss for words yet again. The silence was uncomfortable and you were hit with a wave of nostalgia for a time when you could simply exist with Cregan in periods of comfortable silence, completely at peace with one another’s presence.”

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

“What do you think your fiancée would do if I kissed you right now?”

You tried to fight your smile but it appeared on your face for a split second before you got a hold of yourself and put your stone mask back on. Cregan still caught it, of course. He always noticed every little detail about you. He still knew you better than anyone, better than you knew yourself.

“You wouldn’t dare. I’m a married woman.”

He looked down at you with a soft smile on his face and mischief sparkling in those grey eyes you still could drown in like the sea after a storm.

“Not yet.”

You lifted your hand from his shoulder to hold it right in front of his eyeline. The warm lights in the room hit the large diamond just right, causing it to sparkle, making it impossible to ignore.

Cregan narrowed his eyes at your ring, all signs of mirth disappearing from them entirely. He took your hand to pull it closer to his face, examining the diamond. You tried to ignore your heart skipping a beat at his large fingers tenderly holding your finger, as he had done many times in the past. “Since when do you like pear shaped diamonds?”

You looked down, unable to bear his eyes boring into yours any longer. “I don’t. Gwayne does.”

Cregan scoffed. “I bet he does.” You looked back up at him only to be met with another smirk.

“What?” You couldn’t help the irritation burning in your chest, about to bubble over.

“Youre marrying a man who doesnt rven know what kind of jewelry you like? That’s very amateur hour of him love. That is practically romance 101. I learned what kind of jewelry you liked by the time i was 16 years old. Don’t you remember? I bought you that promise ring with your house colors for your birthday.”

You could feel the familiar feel of tears beginning to sting the back of your eyes. “Of course I remember.”

“Do you know why i picked that ring out for you? Because i listened to what you said. You found rhat ring at the mall and its all you could talk about for weeks. I cant imagine you chose your engagement ring with less thought.”

You try to stuff down the nosgalgia at the memory of the best birthday you have ever had. You tried to remain strong but you were faltering. Cregan could tell. He could always read you better than you could read yourself.

“Your point is?”

“He doesn’t listen to you”

“Oh and you did?”

Any hint of mischief was gone from his face, replaced with a serious expression.

“I let you pick out your own engagement ring. I had it custom made for you, exactly the way you wanted it. I’m surprised your Southern man couldn’t extend the same chivalric courtesy for his future wife. The ring she is supposed to wear until her dying day.”

“Not everyone has your Northern honor, Cregan.”

“You do”

“I’m not a Northerner anymore. Old Town is my home now. It’s been my home for the past two years now.”

Melanchony returned to those grey eyes you love so much. “You remember those birds we always used to compare ourselves to? The greylag geese?”

Melanchony returned to those grey eyes you love so much. “You remember those birds we always used to be obsessed with when we were children? When we got older, we would compare ourselves to them? The greylag geese?”

You knew exactly where he was going with this. “You know I remember.”

He continued, “If you kill a grown one hunting, you must wait for its mate to return to mercy kill them. Otherwise, they will grieve themselves to death.”

He joined your hands together as he had done countless times before.

“We are mated for life, you and I.”

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

Author’s Note: So this is a snippet of a much longer fic I’m planning on posting later this week, I just have to organize all my jumbled ideas, smooth out the dialogue and of course, figure out the family situation because of all the damn inbreeding. This is a modern story and I want to include all our favorite characters but since every Targaryen and Velaryon is a double cousin, I have to figure some things out. Like I need to find a way to incorporate dad Harwin and stepdad Daemon while also having Jace x Baela and Luke x Rhaena. I have to make a damn chart to make sure I don’t make anyone accidentally related.

Trust me, this is not my best writing for the fic but it is the snippet of writing with the least amount of spoilers in it so I wanted to post it for my Jace & Cregan girls and to see if people want to see more because I’m doubting myself. The way I write, I picture it like a movie in my head but the problem is that I need my writing to match what I see in my head and there is a bit of a disconnect sometimes.

I saw @benjinotes and @eldrith talk earlier about how they wanted Jace/Cregan/Benji chasing after their ex so it motivated me to finally work on this again.

HUGE thank you to @cregansdingdong for reading this for me the other day and encouraging me.

I also promised this fic to @cregansfourthwife. I couldn’t have done this without @entitled-fangirl and @jacaerysgf

I promise I’ll tag all the other Cregan and Jace wives when I post the full thing!

The fic was originally supposed to be a Benjicot x Reader because if anyone would crash their ex’s engagement party or wedding, it would be Benjicot. I even thought about it being Jace but I landed on Cregan and I think you guys will see why when I post the full story. I hope I didn’t write Cregan OOC because I’m used to writing for Jace. I think I might write different version of this story for Jace and Benjicot as well.

The full fill will be a very long one-shot, probably around 15K words, and it will be a non-linear story with a few flashbacks and a lot of memories and nostalgia. Fluff, smut and a whole lot of angst.

I will list more themes and warnings in the full fic but they would be a bit of a spoiler for the snippet.

Inspired by the songs: Lover, You Should’ve Come Over - Jeff Buckey, I’ll Be There - Jackson 5, These Eyes - The Guess Who, Down By The Water - The Drums

Inspired by the films & shows: Kill Bill, The Notebook, Sweet Home Alabama, Outlander, The Vamprie Diaries, Gilmore Girls

#cregan stark x reader #modern cregan stark x reader #modern cregan stark #cregan stark #hotd x reader #hotd x you #hotd imagine #hotd imagines

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nyoomerr · 1 year ago

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SY as a disciple on another peak? It's just very amusing to imagine LBH desperately scrabbling to get onto THAT peak, clearly there's been some sort of MISTAKE, he's supposed to be over there!!

lbh would just keep showing up like a stray dog, lmao. here's some qian cao peak disciple!sy taking care of little binghe!

---

As a reader, Shen Yuan had been under the impression that everyone knew about Luo Binghe nearly immediately. Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge fought over him at the disciple selection, only for Shen Qingqiu to treat the poor bun like shit, thereby causing a whole separate fuss as Yue Qingyuan unjustly defended the abusive actions of his scum shidi. That sort of thing was basically begging to be treated like hot gossip - surely, in a sect full of teenagers, news of Luo Binghe would travel nearly as quickly as he arrived on the peak!

So why is it, exactly, that the first Shen Yuan hears about Luo Binghe is the demon invasion that takes place years after Luo Binghe’s arrival?!

Was there no gossip after all? Are Qian Cao disciples really that busy that they don’t hear the gossip?! No, no - Qian Cao would obviously get the most gossip; every other peak visits Qian Cao regularly, and half of them end up high on pain meds while here, unable to filter most of their thoughts! If there had been gossip about Luo Binghe, Shen Yuan would have heard it first! He had been listening the hardest!!

In front of him, Luo Binghe shifts awkwardly. “Um, Shixiong…”

Shen Yuan feels like he’s been struck by an arrow.

Ah! Shixiong!! He called me ‘Shixiong’!! Luo Binghe’s Shixiong!! I could be Luo Binghe’s Shixiong!!!!! …Wait, no, the seniority of the peaks -

“Shixiong, is something wrong?” Luo Binghe asks hesitantly.

A second arrow!!! Shen Yuan is going to keel over and die, right here in the middle of the medicinal peak, because Luo Binghe keeps calling him ‘Shixiong’!!!

“Of course not,” Shen Yuan says, before gathering all his strength to tack on: “Shidi.”

Fuck the seniority of the peaks, to be this golden bun’s Shixiong is to ascend early!!

“Oh,” Luo Binghe says. He shifts again, looking around the small triage room they’re in.

The triage room he’d been directed to because he’d just finished fighting an unfair battle against a demon elder. Right. That triage room.

Shen Yuan clears his throat, smiles awkwardly, clears his throat again, and promptly begins treatment. The best pain medicine Qian Cao offers, the most expensive healing ointments, a tincture for general strength and wellness, a tea for good sleep - so what if Shen Yuan has to pull some of these things out of his personal stores? That’s Luo Binghe, and he’s bearing far more injuries than those that came from his battle with the demon!

He does his best to keep up friendly chatter the whole time, too - asking after Luo Binghe’s studies, backpedaling immediately and telling him what a good patient he is, asking after Luo Binghe’s friends, backpedaling again and telling him what a sweet boy he is -

Normal bedside manner. Shen Yuan is very good at that sort of thing, as a senior disciple of Qian Cao.

Unfortunately, Shen Yuan eventually runs out of injuries to treat. He very badly wishes there was some sort of medical sanctions he could pull out of his ass to keep Luo Binghe on Qian Cao - something about the injuries on his back looking more like whip lashes than normal training injuries or wounds from the demonic invasion, something about the injuries looking like abuse - but Shen Yuan already knows there isn’t.

Only the peak lord could pull that sort of authority over Luo Binghe’s own Shizun; if Shen Yuan tried to do anything himself he’d end up in a diplomatic battle over it.

In the end, all he can do is pat Luo Binghe’s head a few times (and then a few times more, his hair is so soft now that Shen Yuan has carefully washed it out under the pretense of medical necessity for cleanliness!) and send him on his way.

Still, Shen Yuan cannot tolerate letting Luo Binghe suffer on Qing Jing, now that he knows Luo Binghe is there. He’ll have to find some excuses to run errands over there, or -

“Shixiong,” Luo Binghe calls from outside the disciple halls, looking shyly over at Shen Yuan.

Or, Shen Yuan thinks, more than a bit surprised, Luo Binghe will just show up for treatment on his own…?

Shen Yuan scrambles over to Luo Binghe, gently patting his head and turning his face this way and that and carefully running his hands over his shoulders, trying to figure out what’s wrong.

“Ah, Binghe, did I miss something yesterday? Shit - I mean, uh, shoot, you’re too young and cute to be cursing just yet, you hear me?”

Luo Binghe nods obediently, then shakes his head. “Shixiong didn’t miss anything,” he clarifies.

“Oh, good,” Shen Yuan says, letting go of some of the tension in his shoulders.

Shen Yuan of course put his best foot forward when treating Luo Binghe the other day, but he isn’t the peak’s best healer - he’d chosen Qian Cao to study poisons and rare flora and spiritual plants, not actual healing. He’d only been helping treat patients the day of the demonic invasion because half their best healers were missing!

“If Binghe’s alright, what can this -” Shen Yuan breathes deep, savors the feeling, “- this Shixiong do for you?”

Luo Binghe glances up at him shyly, big wet eyes peeking out from long lashes. Ah, the pinnacle of perfection, for a cute little boy!!

“I… tripped,” Luo Binghe says hesitantly.

Shen Yuan blinks down at Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe swallows thickly.

“On my back,” he adds. “And bruised it like - like the bruises Shixiong treated yesterday.”

“Bruises,” Shen Yuan echoes incredulously, which he thinks is a rather restrained response to hearing the sweet baby protagonist talk about lash marks as if they were mere bruises.

Luo Binghe nods, still looking up at Shen Yuan pleadingly. Shen Yuan sighs; it’s better to be able to treat Luo Binghe’s injuries than not to, even if Luo Binghe himself is going to downplay them even as he asks for help.

The Luo Binghe of Proud Immortal Demon Way had never asked for help from Qian Cao, now that Shen Yuan thinks about it.

…After he’s taken care of Luo Binghe, he’s going to figure out which disciple would’ve treated Luo Binghe in the original, and he’s going to put chili powder in all his tea, ah!!

---

Luo Binghe keeps coming back. Small injuries, larger ones, keening whines about how Shixiong, I’m scared of qi deviations, please help me cultivate safely!!

Shen Yuan is torn between feeling relieved that Luo Binghe has found a Shixiong (Shixiong!!) that he feels he can trust, and feeling absolutely terrified of Luo Binghe’s general health. The original Luo Binghe of PIDW had never felt this worried, he was never in so much pain over simple scrapes! Had Shen Yuan’s doting somehow turned the protagonist’s bones to glass??

Regardless, Luo Binghe spends more and more time on Qian Cao. He even shows up to some of the lessons Shen Yuan teaches, which - protagonist, you don’t need to know healing!! Your blood will do it for you, eventually! When that fails, a large-bosomed woman will take care of you!!

“I can’t help but feel bad for how often I bother Shixiong,” Luo Binghe whines when Shen Yuan tries to shoo him out of the Qian Cao beginner lessons. “Isn’t it better for me to learn how to take care of myself?”

It’s better for this Shixiong to take care of you, ah! Shen Yuan very much does not say, but he does begrudgingly let Luo Binghe stay.

Except the lessons go too late, and it’s dangerous for Luo Binghe to be wandering between the peaks after dark, so he ends up having to bunk with Shen Yuan for the night, and Shen Yuan offers him some of his old Qian Cao disciple robes to sleep in, and Luo Binghe never takes them off -

Shen Yuan stares at Luo Binghe, happily calling him ‘Shixiong’ and dressed in Qian Cao robes and without even the smallest of bruises or scrapes on his person, and -

Well, this is probably a good a way as any to rescue Luo Binghe, ah!

#ty for the prompt!#svsss #scum villain's self saving system #bingqiu #fic drabble

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