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jacesvelaryons · 4 months ago

Note

Can you write something about Jacaerys velaryon x targaryen wife reader

Where she gives birth to a baby that looks like jace and it bothered alicent but they don't care? :3

Saving Face (Jacaerys Velaryon x Targtower!Reader)

(a/n): i’m sorry this request took over a year but my, what a great idea! i hope you like it

word count: 3.0k

summary: with what was supposed to be a happy moment in the new chapter of your family with jacaerys, only wounds linger when your mother is unhappy with your child's appearance.

warnings: slight angst, family tensions, complicated family relationships, implied incest (the targaryen way), not alicent hightower friendly

request status: OPEN

The joy of his newborn child is nearly eclipsed by the fear that his beloved would be called to face the same humiliation his mother endured upon his birth.

Even in distress, his beautiful wife still looked otherworldly silver hair spun in gold, and with her pale lavender eyes, he would not have that ginger sucker of joy to rob him from this life changing celebration. His relief that his beloved survived the precarious birth, worried about her lithe frame and the prostration it weighed on her during the pregnancy.

His little boy, his beloved son, a fragment of the other half of soul and his own. He is perfect, with his ten little toes and fingers, and he is all his.

Jacaerys is thankful his mother was in the birthing room with him and his wife, breaking protocol (as always) to be with the mother as she went into labour. Without her, he thinks he would’ve been hysterical and lost his mind without her guiding hand and comforting presence in seeing Y/N in distress.

“Where is my mother?” Y/N cradles the babe to her breast, as he suckled in his mother’s warmth and he feels his heart drop to his stomach as her face contorted in disappointment.

The child yearned for nourishment, and the midwives guided the young mother so she could feed the child with her milk.

The Dowager Queen remained unyielding even as her step-daughter arose as Queen, and she was still given some privileges even with her dispute with his mother. The marriage of Jacaerys and Y/N, her youngest daughter, was made as a desperate attempt to patch the two sides together and make peace as his mother sat on the Iron Throne.

Her mother attended the wedding, wearing a dark muted forest green that still appeared obsidian in certain angles, but the flame patterns could not be missed on her gown.

A mockery indeed as if she did not accept his mother’s ascendance to the throne and wanted her small rebellions in forms of cloth, he would not grant her the satisfaction of his reaction, for the sake of the realm and his wife, her daughter. It would be too scandalous to do so.

When his beloved was called abed, all pretense of dignity and calm collapsed underneath him. Whatever confident front he had broke apart as fear consumed him, sweat dripping from his forehead, hands shaking, heart beating wildly as he realized his wife was to cross the barrier between life and death to birth their child.

Seeing Y/N’s clean white robes stained the bed in scarlet as she quickens and the pain increases as the babe nears reminds him of the chills whenever he walks the path from the princess’ chambers to the queen’s, the same path forged in blood when his mother then Princess Rhaenyra, the crown princess and heir to the Throne, had to face the humiliation called upon by her stepmother, now Queen Dowager Alicent.

His blood boils when he sees the auburn former queen walk that path meekly nowadays on her way to see her daughter, as if it was all an act when she had pulled rank and caused so much suffering to his beloved mother. Jacaerys fears his wife, now the Princess of Dragonstone will have to walk those same halls, perform the same walk of shame and mummery with all the courtiers of the Keep to bear witness.

There is no possibility he will allow her to endure the same, he would bring fire and blood to all of Westeros shall she have to face that, yet it brings him relief when he reminds himself that woman is no longer Queen but his mother is, Queen of her own right and first of her name, and yet all the same, that woman is also his mother-in-law, mother to his darling. And grandmother to the child that shares his blood.

Jacaerys never left the side of his wife even when her birth continued onto the hour of the wolf, his hands intertwined with her own, assuring kisses on her temple and cheek and encouraging her when she would cry she wanted to relent. Across from him stood his mother, whose locks resembled her half sister and his wife, an experienced mother who has felt such joy and such sorrow too, with a maternal comfort gained with experience.

He would not allow a woman filled with hate to the brim in her heart to rob him of the joys of fatherhood and the relief of his wife safe and sound after such birth to their babe. Jace felt relief like no other when he began to see the dark haired head of the child crowning, and the guttural, final scream she exerted as the child exited her womb.

Jacaerys comforted and whispered assurances of gratitude and encouragement to his lady wife, that she be reminded how grateful he was of her efforts to grow their family, of her devotion and love for him, and fulfilling her duty with nothing but grace, peppering kisses all over her flushed face.

As he caressed the fine hair of his child much like own while he fed from his mother’s breast, his elated expression dropped as if in a chilling reminder when she asked for her mother. As despicable as that woman was, he could not deny her wishes if it brought her reprieve. Jace smiled and promised her that she would be coming and has been informed of the birth of her new grandchild.

When Y/N was beyond earshot, he approached the young midwife with a hardened gait, grinding through his teeth. “If the Dowager Queen wishes to see the prince, she will make her way here herself. She can walk, can she not?!"

While his wife was preoccupied and in isolation during the last few months of the pregnancy, Jace had made efforts to convince his mother to move the Lady Alicent to the second floor below the palace where the current royal family lived. “To remind her of what she’s done to us and may feel the pain we have endured.” He told Queen Rhaenyra, who was hesitant but accepted afterwards.

Jacaerys marched his way outside the ornate doors where his wife and their babe rested, raising his chin and standing with his chest puffed out, a cold indifferent expression, back straightened and fists clenched white as his wife’s mother made her way up the stairs with difficulty.

In the years since her queenship, the then young queen had begun to develop striking pain all over her body, especially down her spine and legs no matter what the maesters or foreign healers would advise. Jacaerys thought it was fitting for when he would make his mother walk up with him and his newborn siblings, bleeding across the hallways and staircases due to the green queen’s attempt to humiliate them.

Perhaps he is his mother’s son, as diplomatic, gracious, intelligent and cunning as he may be, grudges linger.

He could hear a pin drop as the auburn haired woman nearly stumbled down the final stairs and tripped over her gown, with a few septas rushing over to assist her but he showed no commiseration.

The doors swung open as Alicent limped towards her daughter’s bedside, slightly softening in consolation her daughter was safe in childbirth and the child was kicking like a goat.

“Praise the Mother, my girl.” She brushed her blood-smeared fingers over her silver hair shakily, whispering. He did not miss the glimpse of disappointment when she noticed the dark brown hair of the child, even when the boy had her pale lavender eyes.

Alicent cleared her throat, avoiding the gaze of those around her. “I see that the prince strongly resembles his father.”

Jacaerys’ eyes narrowed in suspicion, instinctively reaching towards the pommel of his Valyrian steel sword. “Is that supposed to be a problem, Dowager?” He stomped forward, hovering above his wife and child.

“Not at all, my prince. He is a handsome boy-”

Queen Rhaenyra noticed the tension beginning to develop and interrupted with a smile. “She means no ill, Jacaerys. Merely an observation.”

“An observation?! She wished to have us named as bastards to replace you as heir with one of her spawns and humiliate you.” He raised his voice, accusatory at his mother’s former adversary, and he could feel Lucerys next to him, pulling him away to calm him.

His wife Y/N, exhausted and delirious from the birth, began to grow pale and overwhelmed from the commotion around her, just as her babe broke out in tears and wailed. The Queen ordered everyone but Jacaerys to exit the room and give the family their space. The door shut with a thunderous thud.

…

Hours later, the midwives finished cleaning up the afterbirth, bathed and cleaned the lady and the child before they both fell asleep in new linen sheets and fed.

Jacaerys never left his young family’s side, despondent he had lost his cool, distressing his family during a vulnerable moment, turning what should have been a celebration into an altercation.

He cringed as he could only imagine what the murmurs and whispers about his behaviour and the events that followed with his wife’s mother would share about him. He had brought this upon himself and his family.

AS Y/N began waking from her first rest since the labours, he turned to her as soon as he could hear her rise from her sheets, reaching for her hands in his.

“I have failed you, wife. I should have protected you but I have only raised in anger over old wounds and created altercations when I should have.” Jacaerys felt his tears brim, cheeks red with ignominy and shame.

Her eyes fluttered awake, still weary from the long delivery but visibly more rested already. She shook her head in understanding with an enervated sigh.

“I understand your relationship with my mother has been tense, for what she had done to Her Grace and your family. But I can assure her she has changed, if she is not with me, she is on the knees at the Sept begging for forgiveness and giving alms-”

“She looked at our son the same way she used to look at me and my brothers as children, when she would use her tongue to call us bastards! I fear she will do the same to you and the boy. What good will alms do if she still wishes to see me and our son six feet under ground for the colour of our hair!?” Jacaerys exclaimed, lips quivering in fear as he felt tears brim in his eyes.

Y/N brought their son closer to her arms, only comforted by the sight of her child and her beloved.

“I will handle her, trust me. She thinks I do not pay attention to these things, but I do.” She reaches her free hand to his, unmoving to not wake the babe and squeezes his larger palms into her own.

Jacaerys sniffles, wiping his tears with his sleeve. “I do not wish to drive you apart from your mother, my love. I only worry about you and our family’s safety, and the throne. That you and our son may not suffer on my behalf.”

Their son had just begun to fall asleep in her arms, and she began bouncing him instinctively, quickly gaining the ropes of what it took to be a good mother. Jacaerys knew she would be nothing like her own mother, eagerly learning from his mother Queen Rhaenyra, speaking with other royal and noble mothers and even listening to wet nurses and nannies on how to rear children best.

“Are you sure you can handle this conversation? Would you like me outside or in the room with you?” He asks with uncertainty, not entirely confident with his wife even with her own mother.

The wife of the heir to the Iron Throne and Princess of Dragonstone nods fiercely. “You forget I am a dragon too. We do not bow to these snakes that suck from their prey.”

…

In the overmorrow on the first day of spring, Y/N had just put her son in his cradle, handcrafted in limestone and marble with seahorses and dragons, lined with sheets of silk with pearls and aquamarines, befitting the future King, and the scion of Houses Targaryen and Velaryon.

She hummed as she watched him sleep, having gone through feeding him herself to the surprise of the wet nurses she had followed through, unlike most royalty. She swore she would leave nursing and care to others if she had no other choice.

Underneath sat the hearth of the magenta and mauve swirled dragon egg surrounded by pieces of coal, emitting whirls of smoke that signified the life alive in those eggs. The egg was special as it was the first from her young ride, a nervous flighty thing who only managed to hatch when she found out she was expecting herself, rarely only having one dragon when most on Dragonstone laid many.

As she hums old Valyrian nursery hymns from the crypts of ancient Valyrian text retrieved from the tombs of the Keep’s libraries, she recognizes the steps of her mother without a glimpse.

In her jade hued robes, Lady Alicent was quaint yet undaunted to remind the court of her former standing as once the queen who ruled these halls. A black veil hid part of her auburn hair that turned to flames in certain lighting.

Her mother grimaces with a smile that does not reach her eyes, but relief is painted all over her being. “You are well, daughter? I presume so is the babe.”

Y/N curtly interrupts her. “The babe is your grandson, my child when I am your flesh and blood, mother. Most importantly, he is the future heir to the throne, second in line to my husband.”

Alicent frantically fidgets with her fingers, tugging at her old emerald rings in consternation.

“Of course, yes. His name, Aemon, is fitting for a future monarch.” She could hear the strain in her mother’s words, laced with lies. All her life she had learned those sealed with malice and deceit.

“You forget yourself, mother. My husband and my children are of the blood of the dragon, as do I. You do not understand the ways of the dragon, in your jealousy of wanting to unseat my sister and put Aegon on the throne. Your attempts to disgrace and dispossess my future husband and his brothers has brought the Stranger hanging over mine and my own son’s head!” Y/N chides in betrayal, voice tinged with disbelief her mother would do such a thing.

“Y/N-”

“I could not believe you, mother, that you still harbour such ill will after many years. My marriage with Jacaerys should have buried whatever disagreements you may have had with Queen Rhaenyra, but you value imbuing hate and division on this house more than choosing the peace and stability of this kingdom!”

“Your husband and your son are unbecoming of what Targaryen princes are supposed to look like-” The Dowager attempted to reason, but was impeded as her daughter held an imposing hand towards her.

“Unbecoming? Have you not glimpsed into a mirror? You are nothing of what a Targaryen queen should be, a mere second son’s daughter who brought nothing of value to the throne, and only sought discord to advance her family. Who replaced the Targaryen tapestries with ones of the Seven in hopes of bringing your radicalism to the rest of the kingdom!”

Guards barge in the doors of the babe’s nursery, their armour and swords clattering loudly in the quiet hall.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Y/N coldly turns away from her mother, even as she frowned the same way she would. “By order of the Princess of Dragonstone with the seal of approval of the Prince of Dragonstone and the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms,

I order your arrest for treason, and insubordination not only for your past grievances but your efforts to call my son a bastard. You will be stripped of your privileges of Queen Dowager, and turned into a septa who will serve the Seven for all her days.”

The former queen is astonished, struggling among the grips of the soldiers who surround her. “Daughter, you are mistaken, please do not do this to me. For all I have sacrificed for this realm and for your father, you must understand why I am the way I am.” She pleaded on her knees, hands clasped as she cried for mercy.

“No, you have served your ambitions and my late grandsire’s treacherous longing for power and the throne, that you would put the Hightower banners and replace Targaryen customs with the Seven and southern ways, that you would tear the kingdom apart for it. I have given you too many chances, forgiving you and turning the cheek in hopes you have accepted it and at least been happy for me, but I am a fool. I am not as forgiving as my father was to your digressions!”

Y/N paced slowly around her mother, sorrow on her face, but no regret or forgiveness.

“You are lucky I will not be putting you in a cell, because for better or for worse, you are still the mother who birthed me. But you would understand, there is nothing a mother would do to grant protection to her children.”

The princess dazed into the window, grasping onto the rails as she heard her mother being dragged out the halls and stripped of her royal ordinances. She could feel herself biting into her nails nervously after years of no longer doing so.

Jacaerys sauntered carefully, approaching his wife with comfort, rubbing her shoulders and bringing her into his arms, looking down at their son as he slept.

“Was I not too cruel, Jace?” She whimpered, weeping into his arms as she was devastated at whether treating her own kin in such a way was a fatal mistake.

He rests his chin on the top of her head before pressing kisses on her temple. “I understand why this troubles you, wife. As abominable and misguided she was, you still are her blood, her daughter.”

She glimpsed at her son, cooing at him as he quietly sleeps. “As a mother, I want to be nothing like her. My son will never be safe while she is around.”

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acid-ixx · 5 months ago

Text

ch.2: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four

read until the end for an author's note.

*"XX/XX/XXXX, entry no. 13.

i hate everything. i hate my family. i hate my father, i hate my brothers, i hate my classmates, i hate alfred, i hate this place, i hate my mom, i hate everyone.

why can't i ever get what i wanted? what do i have to do? i tried so hard to be everything for them, but why do i only amount to nothing? it's been a year, or two, i don't know. it hurts trying to remember when was the last time i saw him. saw, not talk, because he never talks to me, bruce never even looks at me. and i hate myself for trying to get him to look at me.

is he disgusted at me? does he see my mother in me? does he hate me that much? i don't know, i don't want to know, it hurts to know. i don't know why i'm trying anymore, i don't know how longer i can last in this hell. i can feel it, the longer i stay here, the more i lose a part of myself. i don't want to be here.

i don't want to pray anymore.

so if there's any god out there watching over me, then i wish for you to burn, to suffer, to go through the same thing i have been experiencing for years— all for putting me in this place. i would've been fine living in the streets with my mother. i would've been alright providing for our small family, i would've known to never get my hopes high, but you took her away from me!—

i hate you."

"master (name), are you awake? dinner is ready."

you had to shut your diary at the sound of the knock and alfred's voice.

"alfr-"

a cough, hoarse and croaky, cuts you out from calling his name. it was accompanied by uncontrollable sniffles, mucus blocking your nose from breathing properly. your room was dark, save for the lamp that lights up your bedside, where you currently were seated on your bed to write another entry, grip on your pen unknowingly harsh. you didn't even have to look at your reflection from your phone laying beside the diary to know that hiding your tears were fruitless.

salty were the crystalline droplets that streaks your face, but bitter were the emotions that had your heart ache.

you hear a sigh from the other room. before he could muster a reply, you beat him to it.

"i'm not eating dinner, alfred," you hate hearing your voice, sounding so obviously scrathy from the hours of wailing. "at least not with them. i don't want to get out at all."

"then may i at least bring them over to you, master (name)?"

his answer was final, you have no choice on retaliating and starving yourself like you did for the past few days. but it wasn't your fault that you had forgotten your body's needs. it wasn't your fault that your mind blanks itself out on the dinner table. it wasn't your fault that bile quickly crawls up your throat at hearing their voices.

you simply lost your appetite seeing them happy without you.

alfred pennyworth would never play favorite.

it was drilled into his head ever since he had sworn to serve the wayne family and its extended members— he is to serve anyone and everyone, regardless if they respect him or they do not; as long as they do not pose any danger within the manor, then he is to attend to them.

you'd think that in his decades of service for the wayne's - with all the contrasting personalities he had to deal with - he would maintain professional standards and tell everybody in the world, "i, of course, do not favor anyone within the family, i live to serve and that is truth." when in fact, he wouldn't hesistate to admit that he does, in actuality, have a favorite.

and no, it wouldn't be the eldest child, dick grayson, as much as he is alfred's pride and joy, nor would it be the youngest, damian wayne, who had been slowly correcting his mistakes. it wouldn't even be the head of the house, master bruce.

it would be you, (name) wayne, the infamous, yet forgetten child of the wayne family.

it wouldn't be a far fetch for alfred to admit that you weren't like the others. in all of the years that he served the wayne's, you were a contrast of the family.

the first few hours that he had picked you up from the police department upon the news of bruce's secret child, he knew you were more than just a child raised by the brutal streets of gotham.

you pose secrets that speak of the underground.

he remembers your seated form on the stiff chair of the interrogation room, pose unnervingly straight, as if you had solidified yourself against the metal seat. your fingers were the only signs that showed life, twiddling with each other as if it's some form of distraction.

you stared at nothing.

not even at the police as your name was called for pick up.

it took merely a signature of confirmation to dictate the future years of your life.

what's left of your belongings were given to alfred. the police officer, a woman with a kind smile then had to walk across the interrogation table to pat your back, gesturing for you to stand up and follow her and alfred on the way outside of the station, where the car was parked.

you hadn't uttered a word nor snapped out of your dreamlike gaze. not even when you were greeted with a thousand clicks of the cameras, the buzzing crowd that drowns the police station, or the hundreds of voices that yell at you to look at them.

(name) (last name), now formally adopted by bruce wayne, would be (name) wayne. it wouldn't be a shock that your sudden appearance as the child of a scandalous relationship between a prostitute and a billionaire would cause immense reactions. news would be spreading left and right, most of which were negative on your side.

he had to shield you from the crowd of photographers and journalists itching their way to the crowd to get a glance on you.

yet you didn't display any discomfort. you had only sat on the car obediently, fastening your seatbelts robotically and ignoring the lenses that unsettlingly tried to poke through the car windows to take pictures of you.

you were more like batman than you were bruce.

alfred had tried to get you communicate with questions like, "how are you over there, master (name)?" yet you would only mumble unintelligible responses to his questions without any ounce of emotion. he had to look at the rear view mirror to take in your stiff form. again, your eyes were set on nothing, even if they were casted down on the carpeted floorboards of the car.

when he had first met bruce, that child was overflowing with anger and vengeance for his parent's killer, yet you, who refused to explain your mother's disappearance, are devoid of anything.

the silence was defeaning throughout the ride. the only comfort that was provided was the rain that began to patter against the glass windows.

alfred throught you would retain the same behavior the entire day.

yet it was only when you first walked up the steps of the manor did your demeanor change, fingers immediately reaching up to hold the cuffs of his sleeves, pulling it as if you were hesitant to step in.

the first emotion you had shown him was concern, like a switch had flickered you out of your trance. it was the first time in a while that alfred had to do a double take to check if what was happening was real.

"can you... hold my hand?" and it was the first time he had heard you speak, voice unnaturally scratchy from the lack of water. you stared at him with wide, doe eyes that refused to blink, waiting for answers. alfred had to gaze at your entire body to finally notice that you were covered head to toe in sloppy bandages with blood seeping through the grime-filled gauze. your shoes were worn, your clothes were ripped, and other uncovered scars littered your body.

the most conspicuous color on your shirt was crimson red.

yet you do not display pain.

a child, five years of age, had been through more than enough anguish to know how to block their pain out.

you were unlike the rest, truly, you were unwavering of the world's cruelty.

the world does not deserve someone like you.

alfred takes it in himself to always hold your hand after that.

through the mansion doors, inside the kitchen, on your way to school; whenever and wherever, as long as he had time.

even if it were filled with scars and bruises, dirt and grime, he will always hold your hand if it meant guiding you through the darkness of the manor.

you may not consider yourself bruce's child, but you will always be alfred's.

another knock on your door had you snapping out of your trance. time passed by so quickly in the manor. well, it does when you have nothing to do but stare at your diary, draw on your sketchbook or scroll through your phone. yet time would always be the quickest whenever you drown in your own misery.

"come in," you croak out, aware that it would only be alfred who would come by your room. it was long ago since you had given up on awaiting for dick's visits.

a turn of the knob, then the door swings quietly; the hinges creak, you need them oiled sooner. alfred walks in, you notice he holds a tray that contains two cupcakes and a plate of your favorite dish, but you don't notice the small box with a bow hidden skillfully from the back of the tray. from over your seat, you could already smell the aromatic herbs that flutter in the room and see the colorful frosting from both cupcakes; an already lit candle sticking in from one.

the candle at least provides just a split second of light inside your dim room; the moonlight just like your family, absent.

alfred graciously places the tray on your nightstand, on the left of your diary. your room was still too silent.

you could only hear yourself.

"master (name), are you simply going to sit there and stare? or would you rather i spoonfeed you like i had when you had broken your wrist?"

you blink it out again, oblivious to your very own hyperawareness. alfred's still here. you hope that, in the presence of darkness, he wouldn't see just how much of a mess you are. how your hands could barely grip onto anything, hair unwashed, face stained with tears, difficulty breathing through the buildup of mucus, foot tapping up and down erratically— you wished he would pretend to be blind about your suffering for just this once.

"no��" came your sudden reply, "i can- yeah, i can eat by myself."

it's harder to lie to yourself than it is to others.

he looks at you with doubt, it makes you shiver.

despite you wishing for company inside the manor, you could never be used to attention. it would never be normal for someone like you. though, you wish it was. you wish you never hesitated when someone gives you attention.

you hear your mattress creak, there's a dip on your bed. alfred sits beside you, only then did you realize just how quickly you lean into his side, craving for warmth in the solace of your empty room.

everything hurts, it truly does.

you wish you were strong enough to cease the sudden burst of tears when his one hand circles your shoulder and the other holds the cupcake with a candle near your face. and you wish that you weren't so weak in the presence of another, trying to find a semblance of your worth in their attention.

you at least try to stifle your sobs—

"happy birthday, master (name)."

— but you were always weak, yet alfred never seems to mind, patting your back to console you from your wailing.

you blow the fire out with a single promise to yourself, crying a bit more when alfred had given you a gift box, laced with a ribbon of your favorite color.

it was one of the few gifts you would cherish, fondness seeping into the cracks of your heart.

though it wouldn't erase the bitterness that fills your being either way, knowing your family is still downstairs, unaware of the anguish the torment that they have put you through— it's still enough to let you hate alfred a little less.

"alfred?"

it was your meek voice, one that was always drowned out by the sound of the dishes clanking.

"yes, master (name)?" yet alfred could always strain out the sound of anything just to hear your talk. after all, you were a silent kid throughout your childhood.

"—if i move out of this place; would promise you wouldn't forget about me?"

... (name) wayne was full of surpises.

even at the ripe age of seventeen, and in the near fourteen years of raising you, alfred could never predict your words nor your actions.

you had always said things spontaneously, carrying an aura of awkwardness in your tone, reminiscent of someone who had their personal growth (moreover their social life) stunted.

but now, with the way you had said your resolve so confidently, it felt like he was looking at a different version of you; all the more confident and resilient.

except... you were behind him when you had said that - so he wasn't really looking at you - eating the first batch of his cookies whilst he was polishing the dishes with a cloth.

when he had turned around to look at you, though, you were still the socially inept child he knows and love, sitting on the breakfast bar and twirling around the stool as you attempt to not get crumbs everywhere. you were still so young in his eyes.

it's just, the way you had looked at him expectedly like you needed his approval that shocked him. it was always your eyes that had expressed the most emotions, glazing with anticipation for his response.

he knows it when you lie, and right now, you were dead serious in your resolve.

alfred had to relax the crease on his brows before he ages faster than he already is.

"well, master (name)," he continues, turning back to wiping the dishes clean before he could fully face you. "i would fully support you in your... journey, but what warranted you to be suddenly motivated on moving out?"

alfred had finished setting aside the dishes, but he still doesn't look back.

"i mean, i thought i already told you? i have a scholarship for college but it's on the other side of gotham and...

— i kind of don't want to be chauffeured by a limo around the campus everyday, you know? so the next best thing is to get a dorm."

alfred knows it when you lie. and right now, your hesitance tells him everything he needs to know.

you may have proved a point, but that point was an entire lie. with a person name wayne flaunting across a city whilst riding a limousine, you might find yourself into more trouble than anything else.

but he had always been the one to pick you up and drop you off from elementary and halfway through your highschool life— and you never seemed to mind until now.

it doesn't take a genius to know that you had already deviced a full plan of moving out and taken it into action; all you had to do was confront the only man in the manor who had cared about you enough to raise you about your worries.

it wasn't enough to convince him to let you go, though, especially not right after an incident that had occured prior to you highschool life. if he allows you to gain independence in gotham, he wouldn't know how long you would last.

but when he looks back at you again, he couldn't bring it in himself to oppose to your whims. you need a new environment; one that provides you a way to gain independence and, most preferably, social skills. staying cooped up in a manor with barely anybody talking to you does more harm than good.

and being ignored by your own family for almost fourteen years wouldn't be a great way to celebrate your already nearing eighteenth birthday.

alfred doesn't want to admit it, but if he keeps you here any longer, you would never grow up. one person could only do so much.

he whips out a sigh, looking at you with resignation in his eyes. but you know it in yourself that he swears his life on the promise.

"master (name)," he walks over to you, eyes darting at the cookie crumbs that litter around your mouth making a note to scold you on your manner later. he sits directly in front of you, hand patting your head as you merely stare at him expectedly.

"i have raised you for almost fourteen years, it's like you are my very own child. i would never forget you." he takes your hands in his. "but you have to also promise me to stay safe out there, master (name). call me once you're there."

alfred would find a way to get you to come back eventually, even if it meant utilizing your family's neglect, which was primarily the reason why you had moved out on the first place.

he just hopes you wouldn't connect the dots and pin the blame on him once you're back and safe in the manor.

and now, it had only been months since you had gotten away from the manor. he was proud of your development, of your choice and overall, you, but he wouldn't lie and say he doesn't miss you.

he misses hearing your voice directly, the line on the phone being too blotchy to properly hear you. he misses it when he would sit on your bed as your only audience whilst he watches you paint on your canvases, drawling on and on about highschool's latest drama. he misses it when you would always be the first to taste his dishes, face lighting up whenever the food was seasoned up; now he has to constantly remind you to eat a nutritious diet, even offering to send you money whenever you mention you were short on it.

in the good of your heart, you would always decline, even going as far to deny him of any liberty to track you down and bring you a meal himself.

alfred misses you.

does he regret allowing you your freedom? not really, no. but he knows it in himself that a greedy part of him prefers it if you were would visit the manor occasionally during your vacations, at least to bond with him. but you simply chose not to, even going as far to legally change your name once you had become eighteen so you wouldn't be associated with your father's last name.

but that wouldn't erase the past you had tried to meticulously cover.

(name) wayne may have been a name forcefully deleted off of the face of the internet, but that doesn't mean it doesn't have its conspiracies of its own. nobody knows who you are beyond the blurry, unsolicited pictures of you. it may have been a photograph of your back, or articles published in unknown websites and buried at the far end about a kid leaving a police station and entering through the fancy gates of the wayne manor.

and most importantly, you are a product of a one-night-stand.

but they don't know who the mother is, don't know your age, or where you come from, and what business bruce has with the woman to guarantee your adoption at the instance she had disappeared without warning.

your existence was a mystery most would like to solve. after all, it was your picture that was plastered all over the newspapers and articles, it was your name that journalists whisper and it was a silhouette of your face that the underground knows by heart. every known information about you was shared discretely yet efficiently like some sort of virus.

you were a target for interest, a large sum of money if they will. and alfred had taken it in his hands to make sure there would never be a repeat of what had happened before.

it was a clumsy mistake, one that cost you your memories, and one he swears on his life he'll never make again.

the first course of action he needs to arrange, which may seem difficult for most; he needs to confront bruce.

after all, your freedom is your doom.

the wayne manor, in all its glory, could only be described as this palace overflowing his its abundant history and fame.

it was a castle that houses a boy who had lost his parents and became gotham's very own vigilante who stalks through the night to lessen the very evil that devours its citizens. it was the training grounds where the robins, sidekicks dressed in colorful attire, opposite to batman, were raised to be worthy enough to stand by the dark knight's side. but most importantly, it was a home for troubled children who were in their journey of their very own personal struggles.

yet even in its exterior splendour, it would always be innately overcome with loneliness.

for someone like bruce wayne, he embraces this desolation just as he embraces his alter-ego, batman, who wears a suit of black and dons an aura that demanded fear.

even if he carries the persona of 'brucie wayne' a ditsy, playboy who enjoys galas and sleeping with women every other night, he prefers solitude over the sea of interviewers who throng around him like he was a piece of meat.

it would be the only time he could focus on his countless of stacked paperworks to sign and his plans to ransack another criminal's master plan.

before winter could cover gotham in its sheet of pure, white coldness, rain would always terrorize the skies. he finds this the perfect atmosphere; dark grey clouds prevent the sun from peaking through, droplets of rain would pelt against the vast windows that surrounds his study, and there was enough background noise to block out any sounds that would pass through the door.

bruce wayne was focused on his work, and that meant disturbance wasn't allowed inside the manor. thankfully, it was a quiet, uneventful afternoon today.

in fact, it was all too abnormally quiet.

his scarred hands work through signing papers effiently and effortlessly, practiced fingers signing papers after he would meticulously scan over the paragraphs of texts that scale from business deals to partnerships to buying a piece of land. then later, once the moon rises, he would have to patrol with damian and disrupt another drug trade that had been recently dealing with children on the alleys of gotham.

that means he has to sign or reject at least half of the papers before evening falls through, so he could have alfred send them over through the post office tomorrow morning.

he was at least a quarter way through his work, though, when his flow was disrupted by a courteous knock by the mahogany doors.

he didn't have to look up or ask who it was, knowing it was alfred, his butler.

"master bruce, i have your tea ready, along with news to bare," bruce could hear the tone of urgency and a tinge of sullenness in alfred's voice. it was rare for alfred to be emotionally distressed, as he was typically the most composed out of everyone in the family.

"come on in, alfred," bruce's vocal chords were gruff, raspy whenever he's too engrossed in whatever he was doing.

but he was piqued at the news alfred was eager to share, the butler expertly turning the knob and entering with a tray that holds a hot serving of tea.

bruce stopped signing the papers, putting down his pen as he watches alfred, composed as always, place the tray down on his desk, not a single clank that was produced from the metal sheets. he watches as alfred reflexively pours him a cup of tea.

it was only after that action that the two share eye contact, alfred stationing himself to the right of bruce's desk.

if he wasn't a detective, he wouldn't have noticed the furrow of alfred's brows, which was uncharacteristic of the composed butler.

he reckons he should address the elephant in the room.

"what is it that you want to tell me, alfred?" bruce swivels his chair to face alfred, fingers tapping the mahogany desk rhythmically.

"master bruce, i figured you should have known this for quite a long time ago, but your third child had moved out on their own and now lives at the opposite side of gotham. right now, they may have been struggling to make ends meet."

huh?

"what do you mean, alfred? you're aware that tim is currently living in the manor—"

"no, master, i am talking about your third, not fourth child; master (name)."

... (name)?

ah, his... other child.

alfred looks at his seated form, expecting the befuddled reaction from bruce.

it doesn't take long for bruce to recover from his thoughts, eyebrows furrowed the same way as alfred as he leans against his chair.

"and what of (name)? why was i not updated about them?"

alfred had to stifle a groan as he then glares at bruce with what he could suppose was exasperation.

"i had already told you about their leave months ago, master bruce. you had simply waved me off whenever the topic is of master (name)." the butler's glare hardened, reminiscent of the times where bruce was scolded as a child. and like a child, he doesn't know what he had done wrong.

"i feel it is time for you to take it into your hands to deal with master (name)'s situation right now. i do not have access to their location and just like you, they are stubborn and refuse to accept any financial aid that comes to them in any form—"

to make matters worse, alfred had the gall to stop midway into his explanation, sighing and blinking unnervingly which catches more than bruce's attention.

"they would rather not admit it, but if they were to fail to pay for this month's rent of their apartment, they would get evicted from their very own living space."

at pretty much the last sentence, bruce's gaze hardened. not at alfred, no, but at the thought of you; his... forgotten child. if it was money that you need, why had you not ask for any allowance in the first place? bruce would admit that, well, it had been too long since he had last seen your face, nor even... remember it—

but you were still a child of his and he wouldn't deny you of an allowance if it meant persuing your... highschool or college dreams...?

shit, what grade are you in?

why didn't he know you moved out in the first place? wait—

"alfred, how long has it been since they had last moved out?"

"roughly six or seven months ago, master."

"ah, but having a place of your own as a minor would be prohibited by law."

"master bruce, they're eighteen. they're old enough to live in their own apartment."

eighteen years old...? how long had it been since he had last seen or heard of you? if what alfred had said was true, that the butler had attempted to reach out to him about you, then why had he not remember in the first place? you were a quiet kid, sure, but for someone like bruce, people would always not be overlooked.

it wasn't in him to easily forget, but he hates how he couldn't muster up a single memory of your face— not even your hair color nor your eyes. did you even... exist in his eyes? there was not a single memory of you that he could come up in his head.

his child was eighteen now, how could he not have known in the first place? how could he not recollect a single birthday of yours? or any celebration or gala that had you in it?

alfred's sigh snapped him out of his trance once more.

bruce looked up, seeing resignation upon alfred's face. he simply stood there, posture straight as always, but bruce couldn't wash away the shame that cages his heart when there was not a single image of you that pops up in his mind— alfred's disappointment merely worsened

the tea in his desk had long since gone untouched, but bruce couldn't bring it in himself to drink a single drop of it, even if his lips were dried and his throat was begging for even a single droplet of water.

he denies himself of any relief.

"i figure i should leave you in your own, master bruce, to at least compose yourself before nightfall. please do take your child into consideration, though, enough time has passed since you have last seen them." alfred states, as if it was a matter of fact. and it was, bruce should've known about your leave, as your father and as the man who took you in, he should've.

so before the butler could even take a step, bruce hastily stands up from his seat, pen long since discarded on his desk and a quarter of the papers are now messily stacked upon each other, but bruce pays them no mind.

"take me to (name)'s room right now, i need to see things for myself."

if bruce couldn't even remember a single instance of you, then maybe a trip to your room would be enough for him to remember.

but if that doesn't work then... bruce would a find a way, he always would.

and as your father, he needs to at least support you, even financial no matter your stubbornness? even if the shame he feels right now is so immensely disturbing, and the migraine is quickly finding its way into his head— he needs to know more about you, his actual third child.

bruce wayne needs to see your face just once.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: 5k+ words. no beta, we die like jason todd with a crowbar. my least favorite part of writing the chapter is literally starting it. i had at least 5 drafts all lined up and it took me an hour in the bed to think about how should i start it. i literally hope you guys enjoy the chapter hehe, and start to yk, notice the patterns and the parallels between your perspective and bruce's perspective bec ur literally his child, u guys share some habits even if u never once talked to him lmao. the most emotionally draining scene was writing the birthday scene, i had to take breaks from typing it out hehe. bruce's descent to yandere-ism isn't as quick as dick's but it would be worst in the next chapter.

also, i hope you guys are able to notice the bad habits that the reader eventually collects because it's important for the next chapters. it would be better if anyone of u could... point them out in my asks or comments, i love rambling about it yk, and a lot of you are absolutely brilliant in making theories that are absolutely right. anyways, i hope u enjoy this chapter because this was one hell of a ride for me and i appreciate all the reblogs and comments despite me not replying to a lot of yall but u guys truly are my motivation so thank u lots :(((<33!

taglist: @lilyalone, @secretomelettetroops, @earlqurl, @simpingfor-wakasa, @amber-content, @ruiroku, @okaybutfullhomo, @trasshy-artist, @obsessedwithromance, @jjsmeowthie, @fairy-lenaa, @maicenitas, @ilovvmyhusband, @6uuyuuhgy, @plsfckmedxddy, @lavender-moony, @sweetheart-era, @chemicalsandghosts, @darling006, @starringyau, @rosecentury, @jaythes1mp, @pi1nkl0ver, @i-thirsty-boi, @sharks-r-cool-l, @silverklaus, @samanthathanes, @traumaramacenter, @maddimoon, @anxrq, @thedarknesslord, @h0rr0r-10ver-69, @lazy-idate, @googeecat44, @simpingfor-wakasa, @zvghfgn, @0patito0 (if i had forgotten to put any of u in a taglist please forgive me, it's hard to keep track !!)

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maidragoste · 5 months ago

Text

Something wrong with me

Jacaerys Velaryon x Wife!Reader

Summary: Jacaerys comforts his wife after she tells him her worries.

I hope you have a good read. If you like it, don't hesitate to like, comment and reblog. These three things serve to motivate the writer to continue writing 🥰💖

My inbox is open if you want to make any requests or share any headcanon.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

Something had happened. Jacaerys had no idea what she was but she knew something had happened because today you seemed distracted all day and during dinner, you barely spoke and you didn't eat much either so your husband was worried. First, he waited to see if you would tell him what the reason for your distress was, but now that you were both alone and in the shelter of his bed, your head on his chest and his arms hugging you, even so, you still didn't seem to dare to tell him so. He decided to ask you directly.

“Today I noticed you were distracted, my lady,” he said as he caressed your waist with one of his hands. “Do you want to tell me what is worrying you? That might make you feel better” he asked softly making you look at him.

“I'm bleeding,” you noticed the panic in your husband's eyes so you hurried to clarify. I mean my moon blood” You felt his body relax again.

Jacaerys thought about getting up and asking the maester to bring you some tea to alleviate any discomfort you had but when he was about to ask you to please move so he was going to look for the maester you surprised him by talking again.

“Are you disappointed?” You asked, abandoning the warmth of his chest to get a good look at his reaction, not wanting to miss any small-expression or movement. But your husband didn't look angry or sad but rather he seemed confused.

“Why would I be disappointed?” he asked, feeling lost. You hadn't done anything to make him or his family feel bad nor had you broken your marriage vows so he didn't understand how you could have let him down.

“Because I'm not pregnant!” you responded with obvious frustration and eyes full of unshed tears. You looked away and sat down feeling ashamed of yourself, for having lost your temper and especially for not fulfilling your duties. “And there's obviously something wrong with me,” you said, finally saying out loud what you had been thinking all day since you saw your red-stained clothes.

You hid your face in your hands, not wanting the prince to see that you were starting to cry. Barely a few seconds passed when Jacaerys was in front of you, gently removing your hands from your face. He felt pain in his heart when he saw your beautiful eyes full of sadness and tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Hey, don't talk about yourself like that. There is nothing wrong with you, my sweet wife. Your value is above the children you can give me” he said while carefully wiping away the tears. “You are more important than that, you are the one who gives me love and joy every day” he gently takes your face before kissing you on your forehead, his lips soon land on the tip of your nose and then on your cheeks, he begins to spread kisses all over your face until finally the tears stop and a smile forms on your lips and Jace finally kisses you like a husband should kiss a wife. You feel like you are melting from the sweetness of his kiss and from all the love he transmits to you. You feel so lucky to be his wife. He is so kind, sweet, and attentive to you. And you just want to make him as happy as he makes you feel every day. That's why you're so angry and disappointed in yourself for having your moon blood again.

Somehow Jacaerys must feel that your thoughts are turning dark again because he stops kissing you to calm your fears.

“Now, my sweet wife, I don't want to invalidate your concerns but we have only been married for a few moons so I think it is normal that you are not pregnant yet,” he said as he caressed your cheek. You still didn't seem to be completely calm so he hastened to add. "But if in a few moons, you are still not pregnant and you are still worried about it, we can go talk to my mother or the maester. I'm sure they will be willing to help us."

Jacaerys hoped that the two of you wouldn't have to have that uncomfortable conversation with the maester but for you, he was willing to do anything. He just wanted you to stop worrying.

“To be honest, it doesn't bother me that it's just the two of us for now. “I would like to have you a little more to myself,” he declared shamelessly, making you laugh before rushing you to kiss him again.

Taglist: @chaotic-fangirl-blog @venus-flytrap3 @ajordan2020 @iloveallmyboys @sweethoneyblossom1 @fudge13 @crystal-faith @tita004 @ichanelvxgue @snowprincesa1 @joyouart @rosey1981 @alastorhazbin @papichulo120627 @apollonshootafar @jasminecosmic99 @partypoison00 @labellapeaky @rebelliuna @bxdbxtxh15 @impartinghades @thegirlnextdoorssister @angeliod @snh96 @aleemendoza2425-blog @natashaobo @watercolorskyy @nyenye @savagemickey03 @kishie8 @ewwwitsel @arabis-world @missusnora @nzygftoji @alisoncdariel @cookielovesbook-akie @partnerincrime0 @klara-lily @427120lxld @justhereiguess2 @buckylahey @wa801 @artistadistrada2002 @thelastemzy @justanotherkpopstanlol @yn-jackson @pictureofcaroline

hotd masterlist

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suosgirl · 5 months ago

Note

Helloooo! I was wondering if you are taking requests for Wind Breaker?

If yes, can I ask for a story or headcanons about Suo meeting and getting curious (and eventually falling for) a f.reader who is like a princess for Shishitoren?

In my head it would be funny to see Suo challenging and interacting with Choji and Togame (who are already threatening Suo to stay away from the reader). I mean, he can be kind of mean when he wants, and still wear a smile.😆

Thanks for hearing me out!

And let me say, I realllyyyy love the way you write!🩷

Shishitoren's Princess (& Her Guard Dog) | Hayato Suo x Reader

Word Count: 7471

୨ৎ Read me before interacting!

୨ৎ Pairing: Hayato Suo x Reader feat. Shishitoren (literally most of them), Jo Togame, Choji Tomiyama, Mitsuki Kiryu, Haruka Sakura, Akihiko Nire

୨ৎ Warnings: mdni, f!reader, manga spoilers, ooc (definitely ooc sorry ah), angst, harassment, swearing, kissing, miscommunication – if I’ve missed one, I apologize + please let me know!

୨ৎ Note: oh my goodness – I'm actually so sorry for how this took me (and how long this is ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა). I loved loved loved this idea so much, and thank you for the sweetest words! I really hope this is somewhere in the ballpark of what you were requesting! Thank you again for the amazing idea! I love you!

You hadn’t meant to cross over to their territory – truly. It’s just that Togame had mentioned that his favorite Ramune flavor had been out since last night, and Tomiyama had been going on and on about this new snack that just wasn’t available at the usual corner store that you guys frequented, so you found yourself with a mission on your mind and your wallet in your hand.

Pretty, perfect, caring adorable you. With a smile that could heal any scratch and a heart that seemed to never run empty. You were the pride and joy of Shishitoren – their mascot in every sense.

You knew everyone by name. If someone asked, you could name at least 5 things about each person from the top of your head. You could name their allergies, their likes and dislikes, and even their interests – all because you listened to them.

You were attentive and warm – quick to lend an ear if someone was having a bad day or offer advice if they asked.

And it was scary how well you could tell if they were in the dumps – it becomes a running joke that you have some kind of emotional superpower when it comes to them. It takes just one look, one look before you’re bringing them to a secluded corner and asking them if they’ve got something weighing on their minds.

You knew their personalities, knew their stories, knew their hearts.

The only time anyone avoided you was when they knew they did something wrong – because they knew you’d be pulling them by the ear and scolding them. And, as much as some of them wanted to get mad, they just couldn’t bring themselves to – because having someone care for them so fiercely was a feeling that not many of them had ever experienced, and from the bottom of your heart you truly cared.

After every fight, they knew you’d be the one to patch them up. Bofurin had the townspeople, sure, but Shishitoren had you. You, who would set up tables in the Ori with every inch of space taken up by ointments, antiseptic spray, gauze – the works. Whatever injury they had, as long as not severe, was taken care of by you.

If it was serious and required hospital attention, you were the one bringing them there – eyes sharp and tongue at the ready to yell at anyone who dared to treat them differently or deny services.

And these boys … they had the utmost respect for you. You, who had nothing but love to give, never expected a single thing back. You cared for them, genuinely, and saw them as your own brothers to fuss over and worry about and love.

You were family – and honestly, Togame and Tomiyama were just glad to have met you after their fight with Bofurin.

You’d moved to this side of town just a little after the whole thing, and when you’d gotten lost in the dark alleys with your phone on 1% and tears in your eyes, it was Tomiyama who walked you home. He’d talked your ear off the whole way, of course, but he was surprised at how you were able to keep up with him. You were actively responding to him, asking questions, keeping the conversation going – and Tomiyama liked that.

And when you’re delivered safely to your front door, you ask if you can exchange contact info. His eyes light up, and he’s quickly saying yes and that he’d love to hang out with you again.

He doesn’t expect you to reach out to him the next day though, asking if you can give him a thank-you present for going out of his way the day before.

And when you show up to the Ori, with a bag of assorted goodies in your hands, you’re met with more men than you could count, all with eyes staring wide at you.

They expect you to run away, honestly, because they know what they look like. They know that you’re probably a sweet girl, sure, but they were a gang – plain and simple. A gang working on reform, sure, but a gang nonetheless. So, if you were to drop your little goodie bag in fear and run for your life, well, it would probably be the most appropriate response.

Instead, what you do is gasp, point an accusatory finger at Tomiyama, and exclaim, “WHY didn’t you tell me that there would be more people here?”

You quickly hand him the bag, muttering out an “I’ll be back”, and in less than 30 minutes you’ve got your hands full with 5 more bags, packed to the brim with even more snacks.

With Togame, it takes just a little bit longer for him to warm up to you. Not that he doesn’t already like you – it’s just that he’s, well, a bit more reserved and a bit more quiet and observing (a lot more quiet if we’re comparing him to Tomiyama).

It’s when, during a fleeting conversation, he mentions that he plays Go with the elderly men at the public bath – and he watches you perk up at his words. Immediately, you’re asking if it would be alright to play with him sometime, and while he’s hesitant, he ultimately says yes at the sight of your bright eyes and wide smile.

He admits that he thinks you’re just bluffing, until you actually plan a day to play, and now you’ve got him thinking that maybe you’re good? Maybe, you’re a secret Go prodigy or something? Maybe you’ve got a secret or two up your sleeve and –

He wipes the floor with you. Absolutely demolishes you. But you’re happy about it, laughing at the result, and he’s confused because you didn’t win? Did you … did you know how board games work?

You’re quick to tell him that you enjoyed it because you got to spend time with him, got to know who he is as a person because of how he played.

You leave him standing on the street, a bottle of Ramune long forgotten in his hand (his prize for winning) and his mouth open in surprise.

And when you notice he’s not next to you anymore, you turn around with a smile on your face as you ask, “Don’t you feel that you know me a little bit better too?”

Yeah, they were glad that you got to see them as they were now, with hopes and dreams and emotions. They don’t dwell on the idea of you meeting them before then – they don’t want to. Because if they thought about it too long, they’d have their answer.

You deserved to be happy and healthy and protected. You, who filled a hole in Shishitoren that they didn’t even know existed.

And now you were an irreplaceable part of their lives, so precious and so important that they began to understand Bofurin. They had you – someone that they would do anything in their power to protect – to keep safe from harm.

You were Shishitoren’s Princess.

After that, Tomiyama and Togame were stuck to you like glue. Always thinking about you, always concerned, always wondering where you were.

You’re running late and they haven’t got a text letting them know why? They’re out on the streets, danger flashing in their eyes and prepared for the worst. However, when they see that you’ve been distracted by a stray cat on the road, all they do is let out a laugh and join your side.

They hear you sniffling and see that your eyes are shining with tears? They’re immediately on you, asking who did this to you, with a promise to make them pay for it tenfold. “You can’t really beat up allergies,” you laugh, before sneezing into a tissue. Immediately, the Shishitoren boys are rounded up, their eyes focused and determined – to get you allergy medicine.

You were everything good in the world, bottled up into someone who could make even the rainiest days seem a bit more brighter and the hardest challenges a bit more bearable – and they didn’t want anyone infringing on their happiness.

So when Hayato Suo, from Bofurin, comes across you one fateful day – they’re absolutely livid.

And honestly, you loved them, you did, but the way that they treated you like a delicate little flower sometimes felt a bit too stuffy.

What? Did they think you just patched people up for fun? That you knew how to medically treat someone just short of a nurse because it was your hobby?

You’re too absorbed in your thoughts to realize where the directions on your phone are taking you until you’ve already passed the train crossing border that connects Bofurin’s and Shishitoren’s territory. You’re spit out onto a street that you’ve never seen before, but you shrug it off.

When you find the corner store, you make quick work of your shopping list, even grabbing some items for yourself, before you’re out the door.

It’s when you’ve barely taken a few steps down the street that you feel it – the staring on the back of your head.

While you were in the store, you’d felt their eyes on you, but you’d ignored it, hoping that it was just a fleeting moment of curiosity. Now, you see that it was the eyes of a predator stalking their prey.

You pause, before quickly taking out your phone and sending a quick text to Togame and Tomiyama – they just need one small clue and they can fill in the rest – so you send your location.

And when you finally turn to face your stalker, you snap a photo of their face. For insurance, you assure yourself. Just in case.

He’s taller than you, with a smirk on his face and his hands in his pockets. You feel uneasy at his presence, and you look up and down the street to see that no one’s around.

Damnit damnit damnit.

“You’re really pretty, totally my type. Could I get your contact information?” he’s asking, but the tone that he’s saying it in doesn’t leave any room for objection.

“No,” you reply, simple and straight to the point. Then, you stay standing there, and you wait.

“Never turn your back on an enemy.”

Togame had said this briefly, once, while the both of you were watching everyone spar.

When the man takes a step forward, you take one back, maintaining the distance between you and him.

“Oh come on – it’s just your number. Don’t make this such a big deal.”

He’s holding himself back and you can see it. You can see the way his hands are twitching by his sides now and the way his breathing is starting to speed up.

“Always keep an eye on your opponent~! You wouldn’t wanna miss anything!”

Tomiyama’s words run through your mind next, and you will yourself to maintain your facade.

You’re starting to get just the slightest bit worried now, though. It really shouldn’t be too much longer, you think. Any minute now.

But a minute passes by, Togame and Choji aren’t here, and the guy’s got his hand wrapped around your wrist so tightly that it’s starting to throb.

“Please – leave me alone!” you yell out, but it’s going through one ear and out the other. He’s smiling down, dark and sinister, and it’s then that you remember something so crucial that you can’t believe you forgot it.

“Kick them, um, down there. It’ll hurt, a lot. But that’s a last resort type of move, alright princess?”

Those self-defense lessons are paying off, Togame.

You make a mental note to thank him when he gets here.

You kick the man, hard, and when he releases your arm you step back as fast as you can, but –

The plastic bag you had once held in your hand, now filled with the sloshing liquid and the broken glass of Togame’s Ramune bottle, causes you to slip.

Your hands shoot out and you close your eyes in anticipation of the fall that never comes because strong, warm arms are holding you up.

You let out a sigh of relief – finally. You’re brought to stand, but before those hands can leave your body, you’re swiftly grabbing them to wrap around your waist and leaning your head on their chest.

“Geez, took you guys long enough –”

The sight of a black jacket cuts you off. Black, with green embroidery.

You quickly push yourself off, eyes wide and cheeks red because you had just initiated a very intimate hug with someone who was a complete stranger.

“I-I’m so sorry! Oh my gosh – I thought you were someone else!” you blurt out, hands covering your mouth – and he looks as caught off guard as you are.

His eye is wide, mouth open just the tiniest bit, and – he’s cute.

“Wow, I don’t get thanked like that too often,” he smiles, and you’re mortified at his playful reaction.

“I –,” You open your mouth to apologize again, but he’s got a hand on your shoulder, quickly cutting you off.

You look up at him, and the smile’s still there, but it’s different now – it’s frightening.

“Would you mind stepping to the side for me? It seems some people just don’t know when to quit.”

You hear shuffling behind you, and you’re quickly brought back to the situation at hand. Nodding, you get out of his way, and it’s as soon as you step past him that you hear a sickening thud and a groan of pain.

When you turn, you’re relieved to see that the man who’d been harassing you is on the ground, and if you were to guess, probably out cold.

“Wow… You made quick work of him,” you don’t try to hide the awe in your voice and Suo finds it both endearing and concerning that you’re praising him.

Concerning mainly because, well, you don’t seem to be the type to leisurely enjoy street fights.

And now you’re right in front of him, inspecting his face and body to make sure there aren’t any cuts that need to be treated or any injuries that need tending.

It’s second nature at this point — ingrained in your body and soul.

Cute, he thinks, very cute that she thinks he touched me.

“Do you see anything wrong, love?” he jests, enjoying the way you’re so diligently scanning him from head to toe.

“No, I don’t think—”

You are, once again, mortified by his teasing. No one at Shishitoren spoke to you like this, and sure they called you Princess, but to you, it held the same value as sister or friend.

“S-sorry, force of habit… ah, thank you for saving me! I sent my friends a message but —”

You’re cut off by the sounds of two distinct voices yelling "Princess", and Suo’s quick to prepare himself for another fight.

However, when he sees Togame and Tomiyama run around the corner with panic in their eyes and desperation in their voices, he’s just confused.

And when they spot the two of you, with an unconscious body on the ground, it gets even more confusing. Because why are they walking over here and why do they have scowls on their face and —

“Princess, what were you thinking?”

Tomiyama and Togame are all over you, Togame’s hand gently grasping your chin to move your face from side to side, and Tomiyama’s got his hand on your wrist, softly thumbing at the bruised skin.

“I’m okay, I’m okay.”

Suo’s observing all of this, and he’s trying to rack his brain for any information about you. God, he really wished Nirei was here right now.

He’s never heard that name before or seen your face, so this must be a recent development. But with the way they’re fretting over you, you’d think that you’d all been childhood friends or something because the way that they’re worrying over you is definitely not normal.

You try to push their hands away from you, embarrassed that you have an audience, but they don’t let up so all you’re able to do is grumble and huff as they inspect you from head to toe.

“... He hurt you,” Tomiyama whispers, and you grab his wrist before he starts stalking toward the body on the floor.

“It’s okay um – oh, I don’t know your name, but he helped me out! Everything’s fine – really! Please, let’s calm down,” you plead, and all it takes is one look at your anxious face for the both of them to ease up.

Now, Suo really wants to understand.

“Suo … thanks for protecting her. This idiot didn’t tell us she was crossing over into your territory. It’s our fault, sorry,” Togame explains, one hand scratching the back of his neck and the other draped over your shoulders.

Suo takes a moment to respond. Who would he be, after all, if not an instigator?

Because — who were you? You – who could turn the Shishitoren leader and his second in command into mere puppies with your sweet voice. You — who had them running like their lives depended on it.

“Ah, I’d save a sweet girl like her any day,” Suo says, testing the waters, and he gets the exact reaction he was hoping for.

Togame and Tomiyama stiffen up beside you, as you gasp in surprise at his words.

And suddenly, there’s a shift in the air – and it’s deadly.

You sense it, of course, because who wouldn’t be able to feel the heightened electricity and the low hum of buzzing coming from Togame’s and Tomiyama’s chests?

And you, ever the de-escalating expert, quickly blurt out, “Ah, wait! I need to go back to the store! Give me like 5 minutes!”

Before they can get a “no” out, you’re already out of their grasp and beelining it for the convenience store.

It’s silent for a moment, with just Suo, Tomiyama, and Togame looking at one another.

Finally, Togame breaks the silence.

“Look, Sakura’s a friend –”

“And Ume-chan too!” Tomiyama chimes in.

“ – and I hope we’re not stepping on your toes here but don’t get any ideas.”

Suo knows he should stop. He should probably apologize, and let them know it’s not what they think. That they’ve got it all wrong. But … he really can’t help it – not with the way that they’re hissing at him like cats. It’s adorable – and you’re adorable.

He was never really good with holding back his tongue, anyway.

“I think she can make her own decisions, don’t you?”

Togame and Tomiyama do not take kindly to his words, and so it begins – a passive-aggressive verbal war.

“Ha, right. It’s been fun, eye-patch-kun, but we really oughta take her back home. You know, so that we can patch her up,” Togame says, and though there's a smile on his face, Suo understands the underlying message behind his words.

She got hurt in your territory, under your patrol.

Suo smiles back at him.

“Ah, sorry! I wasn’t quick enough to save her, but I’m glad I was able to sort this out before things got out of hand,” Suo replies.

All you guys do is blow things up out of proportion – with violence.

“If we’d been here, she wouldn’t have gotten hurt in the first place.”

“Hm. But you probably would’ve gone overboard.”

“Watch it –”

“Ah, sorry!”

It’s when Tomiyama finally opens his mouth that Suo realizes he’s been uncharacteristically quiet, and when they make eye contact, Suo’s smile deepens – because Tomiyama looked like he was ready to maul Suo into pieces, like a true Lion.

“Ume-chan and Furin are our friends,” he says, eyes darkening with every word, “but she’s our family – I think it’s best if you stand down.”

It’s at that moment that you come racing back towards them, your hands full of goodies and a grin on your face as you exclaim, “I got it! I got it!”

You hand Togame his Ramune, Tomiyama his snack, and … you hand Suo bottled tea.

“Sorry, um, I wasn’t too sure what you liked – but this is my favorite drink! Ah, um, if you don’t like it … Suo … I won’t be hurt. But you strike me as a tea lover so –”

You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, hands wringing behind your back as you ramble and Suo can’t help the sweet smile and the small laugh that escapes his lips before thanking you.

And as soon as he’s done, you’re being whisked away back to your territory – back to your home.

As you walk through the passing, with Tomiyama’s arm intertwined with yours and Togame’s arm draped over your shoulders, you briefly turn around, just to catch one more glance of Suo.

He’s standing there, smiling as he raises his hand to wave at you. You smile back at him with a glossy look in your eyes before Togame softly flicks your forehead.

Your attention is on Togame now, pouty and dejected, before turning your head indignantly as you begin to lecture him about how you’re supposed to thank someone when they help you, and that it’s the nice thing to do.

In the heat of your lecture, you miss the way that Tomiyama and Togame also turn back to look at Suo.

In the darkness of the tunnel, Suo swears he can see their eyes glinting, and his smile only deepens.

Their eyes, daring and territorial, only say one thing.

Ours. Ours. Ours.

He had to admit, he wasn’t expecting this turn of events but he was intrigued now.

And, it’s only after the three of you disappear that he realizes he never learned your name – your real name.

So, when he volunteers to take over the patrol where the Furin territory ends and the Shishitoren territory starts, who can blame him?

What Suo doesn’t know, though, is that after this little incident, you’re permanently banned from walking alone ever again.

(Of course, you’re not actually banned. But, you are given a scolding afterward – which, in your eyes, is rich coming from Togame and Tomiyama, but sure, whatever.)

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

The next time Suo sees you, it’s when he least expects it.

You’re in Bofurin territory, with a small first-aid kit on your lap as you tend to the child in front of you. You’re smiling at the sniffling little boy as you wrap some gauze around his ankle, your fingers adept and swift, as if you’d done this countless times before.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it? You’re so strong!”

You ask him how it feels, and the little boy beams up at you, the tears in his eyes long gone and instead replaced with immense gratitude.

You smile down at him, playfully scolding him to be more careful as you pat his head softly.

And then Suo sees you hand him a lollipop — a lollipop — and it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

So, really, can you blame him for sneaking up behind you and whispering into your ear?

“What brings you to Bofurin territory, princess?”

You yelp in surprise, before turning around so fast that Suo worries if you gave yourself whiplash.

Once your blush has gone down and the surprise of seeing him wears off, you explain that you’re here to get some bread for Tomiyama from the Cactus bakery.

He’d been saying that he wanted fresh bread, but there weren’t any in Shishitoren that you knew of. And as soon as he mentioned the Cactus’s Anpan over on Bofurin's side of the tunnel, well, who could blame you for taking that opportunity to not only do something for him but also for yourself?

Which, of course, was to hopefully run into Suo.

“He sent you all the way over here to pick up bread for him?”

“Hm? No, of course not. This is a surprise for him!”

“I see – I was wondering why you didn’t have your guard dogs around…”

“My guard dogs?”

“Oh!” you laugh and Suo thinks it’s the most pleasant sound he’s heard in his life.

“You mean Tomiyama and Togame? No, they don’t know I’m here. It wouldn’t really be a surprise if they knew, right?”

Suo’s starting to see it now – why they care for you so much. But he wants to know more, so he asks about the kid you were tending to.

“Ah — I saw him playing with some kids and he took a nasty fall. I didn’t think it was right to let him go home without care, so I patched him up. I hope that’s okay?”

Suo finds that he really likes talking to you. He likes how expressive you are, how kind you are, and how thoughtful you are. And he finally learns your name. He likes that about you too – it’s cute.

So, naturally, he offers to escort you to Cactus – purely just to keep an eye on you, he convinces himself.

And when he escorts you back to the border, all your goodies in one hand and his arm in the other, well –

He doesn’t care enough to find justification for his actions. He just really liked you – plain and simple.

When you let go of his arm, he’s already grieving the feeling of your body pressed to his side.

You were warm, soft, and he’s sure that if he ever got the chance to taste your lips, sweet.

“Let’s exchange contact information! That way, you can be my guard dog when I’m here,” you say as you pull out your phone, and Suo’s so so glad that he ran into you today.

When he adds your contact to his phone, he puts you down as Princess.

When you add his contact to yours, you put him down as Guard Dog.

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

After that, you and Suo try to meet up. But… well…

You don’t see the point in trying to hide it. You were, after all, your own person. You could think for yourself, make decisions for yourself, and speak up for yourself. You were so open to loving and the Shishitoren boys knew this – so why should you hide it?

And when you had something on your mind, you were determined to make it happen. So, you don’t see why it would be any different with Suo. You had met him twice now, and you wanted to keep seeing him. To keep talking to him. To maybe even date him.

But to Shishitoren, this was equivalent to losing you – and they could never let that happen.

So Shishitoren never lets you see him – and it’s not like they’re barricading you inside the Ori or blocking the entrance to the border (though, they’ll admit that the thoughts crossed their mind in one way or the other).

No. They do it in a way that they know will make you stay with them – by acting like big babies.

The first to fall was Arima –

You’re about to leave to meet up with Suo when Arima runs into the Ori, cries of pain leaving his lips as he whines at how much it hurts. You drop your bag immediately, texting Suo a panicked text about how something came up and that you’re sorry but you’ve gotta cancel today.

You have Arima sit down, all your supplies laid out next to you as you ask him what happened and –

It’s a paper cut.

But he’s babbling about how deep it is and how much it stings and it takes forever to just disinfect it and wrap a bandage around it before you realize that half the day’s just flew by for a minor injury.

Second was Kanuma – when he got a bad haircut.

Third was Sako – when he suddenly, out of nowhere, began asking you for advice about how you would approach someone who you used to look up to but lost respect for, who you vowed to fight and win against, only to lose against them and have them apologize to you (you, obviously, struggled with what advice you could even give him).

Fourth was Tomiyama – when he lost his favorite pair of sneakers.

Fifth was Togame – when he lost an eating challenge for the first time.

“It’s for the good of Shishitoren,” they say as they prepare the next victim.

Eventually, you find yourself tending to almost all of Shishitoren’s wounds, whether physical or emotional, and you just can’t believe that they’re fighting against you and Suo so hard.

But, in between all of that, you and Suo still manage to sneak in hushed phone calls and sweet texts.

Always asking about how the other’s doing, always talking about how your day went. He looks forward to it, he realizes, laying in bed as he hears you start to slur the ends of your words, drifting off into sleep.

And you send him photos all the time – it could be of a cat you came across while on the way to the Ori, or a drink that you tried that you liked – and with each text, with each phone call, Suo finds himself becoming smitten with you.

You, who would remind him to drink water and to at least eat something small to get through the day. You, who had perfect memory and would follow up with the things that he’d talked about days ago, just because you were interested and curious (he’d mentioned that there was a tea spot that he frequented in Makochi, and it only took a day or two later for you to bring it up again, this time with all sorts of questions and comments like “I looked at what they serve! Which one’s your favorite?” and “I’d love to go there with you sometime, Suo – if I ever get the chance”. He’d only said the name of this tea shop once, but you remembered).

And sweet, kind, loving you – who seemed to know whenever he had a particularly tough day. You were so attentive to him, which was surprising because all your interactions were never in person, but it seemed that you could understand his mood just based on the extra second it took for him to answer the phone or the way he responded to your text. And the thing was that Suo was great at masking his emotions – an expert, even. But you, who could just sense these things about other people, were giving him the chance to open up if he so chose to. You never pressed, never battered him for an answer. Just a simple – “I feel like there’s something on your mind, but if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay! Just know that if you ever need a shoulder to lean on, I’ll be there for you Suo.”

And, above all, you never stop trying. You never stop trying to escape the clutches of Shishitoren to see him – though you apologize every time your plans get thwarted as if you both weren’t expecting the same outcome.

But Suo doesn’t see you again, for months – not until a huge fight breaks out, and you’re honestly the last one he expects to see rushing onto the aftermath of the battlefield with a backpack filled to the brim with medical supplies and a determined look on your face.

They didn’t know Shishitoren was going to get involved and fight alongside them, didn’t know that the aftermath was going to be this bad. But if Suo had known that you’d be running to meet everyone afterwards, well –

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

He sees you a mile away, and he’s so relieved that you’re not hurt. That you’re up and moving. That you’re here. But he’s also surprised and caught off guard because – why were you here?

It’s then that he sees your bag, sees the way that you’ve got your hair up and out of your face, and the way that you’re scanning everyone up and down so fast that your eyes never stop moving.

My little nurse, Suo thinks, rushing to the injured like the sweet princess she is.

Little did you know that as he was fighting, there were only 3 things revolving through his mind – Bofurin, Makochi, and you. He fought to protect those 3 things that were so very dear to his heart, and to be greeted with the sight of you after winning? Well, it couldn’t be anything less but a sign of his hard work. A reward, if you will.

He sees you run up to Umemiya, serious and purposeful, as you open your mouth and wait for a response. Umemiya, though very confused, gives you an answer that you seem satisfied with because you nod, then thank him, and now you’re running towards Suo, and you make eye contact, and he can’t wait for you to dote after him and take care of him and –

You smile at him, scan his body, nod – and walk right past him. You never stopped for him, actually. You just kept moving. Just kept walking.

And Suo just watches – he watches as you make your way over to where Shishitoren is laid out, watches as they all let out a sigh of relief when they see you safe and unharmed, watches as they start talking animatedly to you as you start setting up for aid.

And you’re standing there with a pained look in your eyes as you nod at their words halfheartedly, more focused on the injuries that they’re sporting on their bodies than the words coming out of their mouths. You’re going from person to person as fast as you can, and although Suo can’t hear you, he can read your lips as you tell every single person – “I’m here now. It’s okay. Thank you for fighting. I’ll take care of you.”

He watches as you get to Tomiyama and Togame, and sees the way your eyes start to water as they pat your head and tell you that they’re fine – even though you have eyes, you can see how hard they’ve fought. Instead, they’re fondly thanking you for coming all this way just to take care of them.

And suddenly, everything got a bit too real for Suo. A bit too scary.

Because he didn’t realize how hard he’d fallen for you, in between those two fateful meetings, the constant late-night phone calls, and the never-ending texts.

It hits Suo like a train. He wanted to be the one that you search for in the crowd. He wanted to be the one that you’re fussing over. He wanted you to patch him up. He wanted you.

He was in love with you.

And he shuts down – completely.

He goes silent, uncharacteristically so, to the point that Sakura and Nirei are starting to get worried.

“What’s wrong, Suo-san?”

“Suo, what’s the matter with you?”

It goes through one ear and out the other – no response, no indication that he’s even present at the moment.

It’s when you’re patching up the last member of Shishitoren that you feel the heat of an eye on you – and your body reacts before your mind can.

Suo’s name is the only thing running through your mind as you finish up as fast as you can – and you’re off.

You’re making your way to where all of Bofurin is sitting, just barely slipping out of the grasps of the Shishitoren boys.

It’s Togame, with his long limbs, who reaches out and puts a hand on your shoulder and it’s Tomiyama, with his fast reflexes, who has your hand in his.

“Princess, no–”

“Let me find Suo.”

“But you don’t even –”

“Choji, Jo – let me go.”

They hesitate. You’d never spoken to them like this before. Never used their first names before. Never been so cold before.

But they weren’t fools. Even if you tried to hide it, they’d seen the way you sneaked off to talk to him or the way you thought you were hiding your phone when you were responding to him. Anytime they’d bring something up that had even an inkling to do with Suo, you were excitedly adding in your input – all while stumbling over your words as you tried to be mysterious.

(They’d done a test, actually. All they did was bring up the word tea and you were fighting for your life as you kept accidentally saying Suo’s name when talking about your friend.

“Ah, Su– AH, I mean, my friend really likes this type of tea.”

“Oh! That’s S– my friend's favorite place in Makochi!”

They didn’t have the heart to tell you because, well – you really sucked at lying.)

And they realize, with heavy hearts, that you were never theirs to lock up in the Ori. You were so kind, so lovable, so sweet, because that’s just who you are as a person.

You were protected, sure, and healthy, sure, but you weren’t happy.

You, who were the embodiment of everything that Shishitoren was working to protect, had made a choice and they weren’t respecting it the way that you respected them – and they were being, well, selfish.

And when they finally let you go, you sigh in relief. Making your way over to where Suo’s sitting, you yell out over your shoulder, with so much spite, so much anger, and so much love –

“You act like I’m never coming back – stop whining like puppies!”

Togame’s and Tomiyama’s eyes widen in shock before they both laugh lightly at your words in disbelief.

You really knew how to scold them.

“... she’s talking about you.”

“... nah, she’s definitely talking about you.”

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

When you made your way over to Suo, you were met with guarded and curious stares from all of Bofurin. Too focused and too determined, you brush it off. You knew about the fight that they had with Shishitoren, sure, but you thought that they had patched everything up? And Shishitoren had fought with them for this big battle, so why the curiosity?

If only you knew the real reason everyone was staring at you.

Instead, you find yourself running past all of them with Suo’s name falling from your lips, and when you see him, he doesn’t respond.

You pause, dejected, before repeating his name.

No response.

Now you’re worried – and scared.

You recognize Sakura and Nirei, based on how Suo had described them briefly, and you immediately begin asking them what happened.

“Sakura, Nirei – is Suo okay? Did he get hurt? Does he need first aid?”

You’re met with silence – and shock.

“H-huh? Do we know you?”

“U-umm – sorry, have we met before?”

You pause at their response, looking at them confused.

You blink once, then twice, then three times – before glancing at Suo.

Unresponsive and unperturbed.

You introduce yourself slowly, giving Sakura and Nirei the chance to remember you – because they must’ve heard your name at least once, right?

They hadn’t.

And now you’re standing there with hundreds of eyes on you, as you come to terms with the fact that maybe … maybe you’d been wrong this whole time.

You clear your throat before timidly asking a question that you fear you already know the answer to.

“Did he um… did he not tell you about me? Uh… about us?”

And suddenly – everything goes to shit.

Shishitoren rises up in arms, walking over to where you are because why did you look so confused and why was Suo ignoring their beloved princess –

All of Bofurin is staring at you with their mouths wide open, processing the words you’ve just said –

Sakura’s spluttering, desperately trying to form words as he continues to just point back and forth from you to Suo with shaky hands –

Nirei’s got his notebook in his hand, flipping through it like a madman because how could he miss something like this, and had Suo ever talked about you? –

Suo’s unresponsive, still –

And then, to top it all off, Kiryu gasps because he’s finally solved it. He’d seen a text on Suo’s phone, so brief and so quick, but he was sure that the person Suo was texting was –

“Oh! You’re the one he’s been texting! You’re Princess!”

At Kiryu’s words, you snap.

And no one, not even Togame and Tomiyama, had ever seen you this angry, this upset, this livid.

You weren’t expecting him to go around screaming your name all over Makochi, but what you did expect was at the very least maybe his friends to know. Was that so absurd? You never tried to hide your feelings for Suo from Shishitoren (They tried so hard to stop it) so why wasn’t it reciprocated? Did he not feel the same way? Had you looked too deep into his actions and created a fantasy in your mind? Did you not really know him as well as you thought?

Or worse – had he been toying with you?

Oh, you were pissed – and poor Suo didn’t have a clue.

You go to stand in front of him, eerily calm and sickeningly sweet as you call his name one more time.

“Hayato Suo.”

Now that – that brings him back to his senses. You watch him blink in succession as he grounds himself, before his eye darts to you, to Furin, to Shishitoren – and he quickly puts the pieces together before letting out a stiff laugh.

“Ah – I was hoping to introduce you properly to everyon–”

“Am I a joke to you, Hayato?”

Suo freezes at your words.

How could you, who had unknowingly wormed your way into his heavily guarded heart, be a joke?

But he realizes now – and he feels, for one of the few times in his life, stupid.

Because you love with your heart on your sleeve, and Suo loves with his heart tucked away.

And really, Suo should’ve known, because you’re you — you who gave Shishitoren something to protect and to hold close to their hearts, safe from danger and harm’s way.

You press on, fighting through the anger and the embarrassment and the fear you feel rising inside of you.

“Tell me Hayato, answer me. Was I? Hm? Did you have fun?”

“No, I –”

“Every call, every text – did that mean nothing to you? Was I just being delusional?”

“Wait I –”

You’re so close to him now, softly jabbing your finger into his chest as your words begin to get more and more shaky.

“Do you feel powerful, Hayato? Making a Shishitoren girl fall in love with you–”

You stop yourself, teary-eyed and vulnerable, and you feel so stupid. Because what hurts more than anything is giving someone all your love, all your time, all your energy – all for it to have been for nothing. You thought he felt the same, truly. But now? All you wanted was to walk away from all of this, walk away from Bofurin, and never ever look back.

He grabs your hand, desperately, as your words sink in. He wants to – no, needs to make sure that he’s not just hearing things. That he’s not just imagining it.

“You … love me?”

You pause, taking the chance to actually look at him. You see hope on his face, and you furrow your eyebrows in response.

“... is this another joke? Of course, I love you, you idiot. You would’ve been the first one I ran to but your leader said you guys were all patched up already so I –”

Everyone’s eyes turn to Umemiya, who shrivels under the attention and wordlessly mouths an “I didn’t know!”

But your eyes are only on Suo’s, and Suo’s is only on yours.

And Suo lets you see him, truly see him, for who he is. He doesn’t shy away from your stare, doesn't put on a mask, doesn’t push his feelings into the box that’s been his safe haven for so many years.

Your eyes flicker with uncertainty and fear, but you convince yourself to try one more time. Just one last time.

“Hayato Suo, I really do love you,” you whisper, so slowly, so hesitantly, so scared.

Then, with everyone’s eyes on the both of you, Suo slides one hand to the small of your back, and the other to cradle your face.

He wanted to learn how to love with his heart on his sleeve – just like you.

“… again.”

“… I lov—”

His lips cut you off, and honestly, you’re not even mad. Not when he’s pulling you flush to his body, his hand slipping to the back of your neck, and your fingers grasping at the collar of his jacket.

Black, with green embroidery.

“I love you, too – but I’m afraid there’s too many eyes here for me to show you how deeply I feel for you, Princess – I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Dazed, all you can manage is a soft nod and a flutter of your eyelashes before pulling his lips back to yours.

Suo smiles into the kiss. He was right, you were as sweet as he thought you’d be.

#melody answers (& loves it)#melody writes (& never stops)#hayato suo x reader #suo hayato x reader #wind breaker x reader #windbreaker x reader #wind breaker (satoru nii)#hayato suo #suo hayato #wind breaker

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hor3nee · 8 months ago

Text

• Fatherhood •

What kind of dads are the JJK men ?

CW/TW: GN! Reader, Mentions of crappy parenting, BREIF mention of pregnancy in Geto's, (Lmk if I should add anything else!)

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Sukuna, Toji x Reader

AN: Almost cried writing this the baby fever is going HARD rn dude. Headcanons !

• Gojo •

Menace of a father, but in the good way! Gojo spends his years raising his kids as if he's their best friend, truly and genuinely treats his kids as equals and in a sweet way, allows his children to have complete trust in him. Because Gojo is quite childish himself, he loves playing with his kids, making a fool of himself, and indulging with them.

Has a bit of a bad side to this though, his lack of traditional discipline or making himself the 'adult' in the situation leads the kids to both be very spoiled and not really ever listen to him.

"Sweetheart, darling, my perfect angel, can you please go to bed?? pretty please! Help your old man here, please??"

"Nuh uh!" And with that bout of defiance, he's back to running up to you, like HE'S the child, begging for your help. Because it seems you're the only one who can get the kids in line, and you do.

Plays pranks and teases the hell out of his kids as they get older, always in a loving way of course, but nonetheless loves getting them flustered over his stupidity. Type of dad to do dumbass dances in the middle of a Walmart to embarrass his kids.

• Geto •

Geto is optimum of what it means to be a gentle parent. Cannot, for the life of him, bring it in himself to yell at his kids. He's so soft-spoken, never so much as raising his voice against his children. Geto has children who respond to his voice alone, because it's so lulling, he's familiarized them with it and made them feel safe with it.

Doesn't mean he can't discipline them, of course he can, and he does so extremely gracefully. Whenever you're on your last straw with the kids, fighting the urge to start scolding them and yell, he steps in, smoothly taking over and the kids instantly listen to him.

"We're your parents, honey, c'mon that's not very nice to say, is it? They carried you for 9 months you know. Say sorry." Like magic the kids shut up and come over to you apologizing while Geto stands back, calmly having fixed the situation with ease.

With everything Geto does, has done, experienced etc, he can sometimes feel conflicted. Geto knows what he is capable of, and what he has done, he's extremely self-aware even if he justifies it, and he can struggle to balance the weight of all of it while also remaining a dutiful father.

Despite it, he does wonders keeping it separate from what his children have to see or experience, teaches them respect and kindness and hopes they hold true to it.

• Nanami •

Not a single man on this list fathers as hard as Nanami fathers. He's built for it like no other. Nanami treats fatherhood with his all, he puts his all into it and makes damn certain he does right by it. Stern when necessary, sweet when needed, provides for his kids and refuses to miss any important milestone of theirs.

Nanami is a calm man but the second work starts piling potentially making him miss his kids school play or something he's arguing with his supervisors and ready to throw hands.

He keeps the drawings his kids make on his desk, alongside a photo of you and your kids. Literally just stares at it while working smiling, unable to wait till he's home with the kids. They are his pride and joy genuinely.

No matter how over-worked Nanami may be though, when he comes home you are basically on vacation. Insists you rest and he takes over literally everything involving the kids.

"Darling, darling no, I got this covered. You take rest. You know I love spending time with my kids." He says with an earnest smile, both kids in his beefy arms just dangling around and playing with their father. He's definitely exhausted from work, but that never stops him.

• Sukuna •

The King of the Curses, as cruel and terrifying as he is, taking pleasure in all sorts of sickness and treating love as pointless, legitimately likes his kid.

He doesn't care about fatherhood, or the responsibilities that being a parent entails, but it's nice having a mini version of himself around. That he likes. An extension of himself and you, it's nice to have around he doesn't mind it. He may act aloof about it, not outwardly showing affection like hugs or kisses, but he clearly enjoys it.

He gets a massive ego trip when his kids cause chaos and disturbances. Points at them laughing with his belly "See that? That's mine."

Sukuna never minces his words though, and his kids have to get used to his bluntness. Again, he doesn't care for the concept of 'parenting', and will in their face call the kid some extreme insults and weak and they have to learn to take it.

On the flip side, Sukuna also never minces his praise, and Sukuna has an abundance to give his kids. Every accomplishment or show of strength that they show he'll let them know he's proud. A good ol' fashioned fatherly slap to their shoulder while he praises them.

He treasures his children, and even if he doesn't put much effort into parenting them, you taking over most of it, he's definitely a present figure in their lives.

• Toji •

Went to get milk, hasn't been seen since.

#sukuna x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #nanami x reader #satoru gojo x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #gojo saturo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna x you #gojo x you #geto x you #dad!sukuna

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moonselune · 4 months ago

Note

Hello! Could you write all the origin companions reaction to a tav who sacrificed themselves to save them? Whether or not tav gets revivified is up to you. Thank you! I hope you enjoyed your break!

yes yes yes, so this is going to be quite similar to the silly sacrifice one but I tried to focus more on the revivfy section kind of

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

The battle had reached its peak, the air thick with the scent of blood and the clashing of steel. You and Karlach fought side by side, her infernal rage blazing like a beacon of hope amidst the chaos. But then, in a split second, you saw the demon's sword arching towards her, aiming for a fatal blow. Without a second thought, you threw yourself in its path, the blade biting deep into your flesh.

The world seemed to slow as you fell to the ground, your vision darkening. Karlach’s roar of anguish cut through the din of battle. She fought with a renewed ferocity, dispatching the demon with a series of powerful blows, her eyes never leaving your fallen form.

“No, no, no!” she cried, dropping to her knees beside you, her hands shaking as she held your lifeless body. Tears streamed down her face, her fiery aura flickering as despair threatened to consume her. “You can't leave me like this! You can't!”

Desperation gave her strength as she pulled out a revivify scroll from her pack. Her hands were unsteady, but her resolve was ironclad. She chanted the incantation, pouring all her will into bringing you back. For a moment, nothing happened, and her heart nearly shattered.

Then, your chest heaved with a ragged breath, and your eyes fluttered open. Karlach's tears flowed even harder, but now they were tears of relief and joy. She cradled your face in her hands, her touch gentle despite her overwhelming strength.

“You scared me so much,” she sobbed, pressing her forehead against yours. “I thought I’d lost you for good. Don’t you ever do that again, you hear me?”

You managed a weak smile, lifting a hand to brush away her tears. “I’m sorry, Karlach. I couldn’t let anything happen to you.”

She held you close, her body shaking with the force of her emotions. “I love you so much,” she whispered fiercely. “And I need you with me. Always.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

The night was filled with the sounds of battle, the clash of swords and the screams of the dying. You and Minthara moved as one, a deadly dance of blades and magic. But then, you saw it—the assassin, poised to strike Minthara from the shadows. Instinct took over, and you flung yourself in front of her, the blade intended for her plunging into your chest instead.

Minthara's eyes widened in shock and rage as you collapsed to the ground. She dispatched the assassin with ruthless efficiency, her movements swift and lethal. But as she knelt beside you, her expression shifted to one of desperate fear.

“No, you fool,” she hissed, her hands trembling as she reached for you, only to find your lifeless body. “Why did you do that?”

Minthara’s eyes flashed with anger and sorrow. She pulled out a revivify scroll, her voice steady but urgent as she recited the spell. The magic flowed from her fingertips, enveloping your body in a soft glow.

For a moment, everything was silent. Then, your chest rose with a shuddering breath, and your eyes opened. Minthara’s relief was palpable, but she quickly masked it with her usual stern expression.

“You think death can take you from me so easily?” she asked, her voice laced with mockery to hide the desperation she felt. “You’re mine, and only I decide when you go.”

"Wouldn't dream of it" You smiled weakly, the warmth of life returning to your limbs. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Minthara's stern facade cracked slightly, and she leaned down to press a fierce kiss to your lips. “Good,” she murmured against your mouth, her voice softening for a brief moment. “Because I need you by my side. Always.”

She pulled back, her eyes burning with a fierce possessiveness. “Do not ever think you can leave me so easily. Death itself will bend to my will if it means keeping you with me.”

You chuckled softly, wincing at the pain but finding comfort in her words. “I know my love,”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

The battlefield was a chaotic swirl of violence, the clang of steel and the cries of the wounded filling the air. You and Lae'zel fought side by side, a formidable team. But in a split second, you saw an enemy warrior, poised to strike her from behind. Without hesitation, you lunged forward, taking the blow meant for her. The pain was excruciating, but you gritted your teeth, determined to protect her. As the world around you faded to black, the last thing you saw was Lae'zel's horrified expression.

When you opened your eyes, you were met with Lae'zel's fierce gaze, her hands pressed against your chest where the wound had been. The magic of the revivify scroll was still fading from her fingertips. Relief flickered in her eyes before it was quickly replaced with anger.

"Fool!" she snapped, pulling you up to a sitting position. "You call that battle technique? Throwing yourself in front of a blade like a reckless child?"

You couldn't help but chuckle, despite the pain still lingering in your body. "Nice to see you too, Lae'zel."

Her glare intensified, but you could see the worry in her eyes. "Do not mock me. Your survival is not a joke. You are to be better, to fight smarter. I will not lose you to your own stupidity."

"Yes, ma'am," you said, a smile tugging at your lips. "I'll try to remember that next time."

She sighed, her expression softening ever so slightly. "See that you do. I need you alive and by my side, not dead on the ground." She reached out, brushing a lock of hair from your forehead with surprising tenderness. "Promise me you will fight smarter."

You took her hand in yours, squeezing it gently. "I promise, Lae'zel."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

The battle raged around you, guts and gore everywhere, but your focus was solely on Shadowheart. She was cornered, surrounded by enemies, and in that moment, you knew what you had to do. You threw yourself in front of her, taking a vicious blow that would have ended her life. The pain was immense, but you didn't regret it for a second. As your vision blurred and darkness closed in, you heard her scream your name.

When you awoke, the first thing you felt were her tears on your face. Shadowheart was leaning over you, her hands glowing with the last remnants of a revivify spell. Her eyes were red, tears streaming down her cheeks as she looked at you with a mix of relief and frustration.

"You idiot," she choked out, her voice trembling. "Why did you do that? Why would you sacrifice yourself for me?"

You tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. "Because I love you, Shadowheart. I couldn't let you die."

She sobbed, her tears falling onto your face. "You reckless fool. You can't just… just die like that. I can't lose you." She tried to scold you, but her voice broke, and she buried her face in your chest, her body shaking with sobs.

You reached up, gently stroking her hair. "I'm sorry, Shadowheart. I didn't mean to make you cry."

She lifted her head, her tear-filled eyes meeting yours. "Don't you ever do that again," she said, her voice filled with a mixture of anger and desperation. "You hear me? I can't… I can't go through that again."

"I promise. I'll be more careful." You nodded, pulling her close and holding her tightly. She clung to you, her sobs gradually subsiding as she calmed down.

"I'm just so glad you're alive," she whispered, her voice still trembling. "I can't bear the thought of losing you."

"I'm here," you said softly, kissing the top of her head. "And I'm not going anywhere."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

The clashing of swords and the shouts of warriors filling the air. You and Jaheira fought side by side, her presence a comforting and motivating force. But then, you saw it—a blade aimed straight at her back. Without thinking, you threw yourself in its path, taking the blow meant for her. The pain was sharp and overwhelming, and you fell to the ground, the world fading to black.

When you opened your eyes, Jaheira was kneeling over you, her hands glowing with the light of a revivify spell. Her expression was calm, though you could see the concern in her eyes. She finished the spell, and the pain began to ebb away as life returned to your body.

"There you are," she said, her tone brisk but affectionate. She pulled you to your feet with surprising strength, and before you could fully process what was happening, she leaned in and pressed a firm, warm kiss to your lips.

"You'll need to be quicker next time, you would have easily been able to deflect that blade," she said, a hint of a smile playing at her lips. "But thank you."

You managed a weak smile, still a bit dazed and in awe of how calm she was. "Anything for you, Jaheira."

"Good," she replied, giving you a pat on the back. "Now, back to the fight. We have work to do."

With that, she turned and rejoined the fray, leaving you with a sense of awe and gratitude. She had seen death and resurrection enough times to take it in stride, but her kiss had been full of warmth and reassurance, a silent promise that she would always be there to pull you back from the brink.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

The air crackled with magical energy as the battle raged on. You saw Gale, his focus entirely on casting a powerful spell, unaware of the enemy creeping up behind him. Without hesitation, you darted forward, taking the lethal blow meant for him. The pain was excruciating, and darkness quickly consumed your vision.

When you awoke, you felt the tingling aftermath of a powerful spell. Gale stood over you, his hands still glowing with the energy of the revivify spell he had just cast. His face was a mix of relief and exasperation.

"Really? It was that easy" he said to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. "This was disturbingly easy by comparison, you could just ressurect any odd fool.."

Gale continued to ramble to himself until you blinked back to conciousness and managed a weak chuckle, your body still aching. "See? And the things I have to do for you, purple string and all that."

His expression softened as he realized you were awake he was about to retort when he realised why you were bother there in the first place.

"You shouldn't have done that," he scolded, though his tone was gentle. "Sacrificing yourself like that was reckless."

"I had to," you replied, your voice hoarse. "If you died, the Netherese orb would have gone off and killed us all. Someone had to protect you."

Gale sighed, his frustration melting into acceptance. "You have a fair point," he admitted. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it." He helped you to your feet, his grip steady and reassuring. "Just… try not to die again, alright?"

"I'll do my best," you said, smiling up at him. Gale's eyes softened, and he pulled you into a gentle embrace.

"Good. Because I don't want to go through that again." He held you close for a moment before stepping back, his hand lingering on your shoulder. He knew you had reason on your side, and it killed him but for now he would keep some revivfy scrolls to himself, just for you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

The battlefield was a chaotic blur, the clash of steel and the cries of the wounded filling the air. You saw Astarion, his back turned as he fought off an enemy, completely unaware of the assassin creeping up behind him. Without hesitation, you launched yourself in front of him, taking the lethal blow. The pain was searing, and darkness quickly overtook you.

When you came to, the first thing you saw was Astarion's face, his expression a mix of shock and relief. He had just finished casting a revivify spell, the magic still shimmering around his fingers.

"You idiot!" he exclaimed, his voice a mixture of anger and worry. "What were you thinking, throwing yourself in front of a blade like that?"

"I had to protect you," you managed to say, your voice weak. You groaned, the pain from the wound still lingering.

Astarion's eyes softened for a moment, but then his usual dramatic flair took over. He placed a hand on his chest, striking a theatrical pose.

"I suppose I should thank you for your valiant sacrifice," he said, his tone dripping with mock grandeur. "After all, you did save my life, and now you owe yours to me. Consider me your god, darling."

You couldn't help but chuckle, despite the pain. "Oh, great. Now I'll never hear the end of it."

Astarion leaned down, pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to your forehead. "Don't think this means you can make a habit of dying on me," he murmured, his voice softer now. "I quite like having you around."

"I'll do my best," you replied, smiling up at him. "But maybe next time, try to keep an eye on your surroundings? You supposed omniscient god."

He smirked, helping you to your feet. "Deal. Now, let's finish this fight so I can properly express my gratitude later."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

The battle was fierce, and in the midst of the chaos, you saw Wyll, his focus entirely on fending off multiple attackers. Suddenly, an enemy appeared from the shadows, aiming a deadly blow at him. Without thinking, you threw yourself in front of him, taking the hit. The pain was overwhelming, and darkness quickly enveloped you.

When you woke, you felt a familiar warmth and the tingling of healing magic. Wyll's face hovered above you, his expression a mixture of relief and overwhelming joy. He had just cast a revivify spell, bringing you back from the brink of death.

"Thank the gods," Wyll whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "I thought I'd lost you."

You smiled weakly, your body still aching. "Couldn't let that happen," you replied softly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, thanks to you," he said, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "But don't you ever scare me like that again."

Before you could respond, Wyll pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you as if he would never let go. He peppered your face with kisses, his relief and love evident in every touch. "I'm so glad you're alive," he murmured between kisses. "I don't know what I would have done without you."

You rested your head against his shoulder, feeling his warmth and the steady beat of his heart.

"I had to protect you," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't bear to lose you either."

Wyll pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression serious. "We're in this together, remember? Next time, we'll protect each other."

"I promise," you agreed, a smile tugging at your lips. "But you better be ready for a lot of hugging if you ever scare me like that again."

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling with genuine happiness. "I'll take that over losing you any day," he said, giving you one more firm kiss before helping you to your feet.

With Wyll's arm around you, providing support and comfort, you both turned to face the rest of the battle, ready to continue fighting side by side.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

The battlefield was a frenzy of chaos and bloodshed. Amidst the turmoil, you saw Halsin, his powerful form surrounded by enemies, but his focus on the frontline left him vulnerable. An enemy archer, hidden in the shadows, took aim at him. Without a second thought, you dashed forward, throwing yourself in front of him just as the arrow was released. The searing pain hit you, and darkness quickly swallowed your vision.

When you came to, you were lying on the ground, Halsin's face hovering over yours, his expression one of frantic concern. His hands were glowing with healing magic, and you felt the warmth and energy seeping into your body, bringing you back from the brink of death.

"Don't you dare leave me," Halsin murmured, his voice a mixture of command and desperation. His eyes were intense, filled with worry and relief as he saw you stir.

"Halsin…" you managed to whisper, your voice weak. "You're okay?"

He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Thanks to you," he replied, his tone softening. But then his expression shifted to one of fierce protectiveness. "But that was incredibly reckless. I can't lose you."

Before you could protest or even fully process what was happening, Halsin scooped you up into his strong arms, lifting you effortlessly from the ground. The battle still raged around you, but his focus was solely on getting you to safety.

"Halsin, put me down," you said, trying to sound firm despite your weakened state. "I can still fight."

"No," he replied, his voice unyielding. "You've done more than enough. Your place now is to recover."

You tried to wriggle free, but his grip was ironclad, and his pace didn't falter as he carried you away from the chaos. "Halsin, listen to me. We need every hand we can get out there. I can't just—"

"Enough," he interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. "I cannot bear to see you hurt again. Let me protect you this time."

The sheer determination in his voice, coupled with the tenderness in his eyes, made your protest die in your throat. You sighed, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart.

"Fine," you conceded, wrapping your arms around his neck. "But once this is over, we need to talk about your definition of 'teamwork.'"

A small, relieved smile tugged at his lips. "Fine," he said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "But for now, just rest. Leave me to taking the hits for now."

As he carried you to a secure spot, away from the battle, you couldn't help but feel a mix of frustration and gratitude. You were a fighter, but having someone like Halsin care so deeply for you, willing to protect you at all costs, was a comfort you hadn't expected. And as he set you down gently and continued to shield you with his presence, you realized that sometimes, letting someone else take the lead wasn't always a sign of weakness.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope you all enjoyed it !

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idkbishsss · 2 years ago

Text

last night I started crying because I read one of my past diary’s (TW for a long vent in the tags)

#It weird because I started thinking about the struggles in my life and started realizing that the thing people want to be aren’t all good #and don’t bring you joy 100% of the time #“Being the bigger person” “being selfless” I love to do those thing it makes me feel good that I made other people feel good #But I realize that I have been to nice and people take advantage of that #I remembered some of the times thought I was being I good person but it just gave me pain and anxiety #I never told anyone about almost being SA or sexualized or getting call f@g because I was “being the bigger person”#There was so much younger me had put into that and it showed me how far I’ve come with showing my emotions (my writing as well)#And it showed me that I’m still being walked over #And any time I try to tell people that I’ve changed and want to be my own person I’m call a brat or told to “Shut up”#Even to go Kms and that I only ruin peoples lives #i’m tried #of life #of trying to fix something that broken and being the only one to do so #of not being able to talk to anyone because they don’t care or they’re to uncomfortable or they’ve had a hard day/life too #I’m tired of it #Sorry for the vent but this isn’t even half of what i have to say #my feelings are valid #okay? Do we all understand this? Because I don’t want to explain this to people I hope I can befriend #I can’t even explain it to my family so #Tw vent #Idkbish talks #Younger me and me now are both not doing good #But I’m going to say something about #Not to the people who hurt me but on the internet because I can get my feelings out #no has read this far #long tags

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gtgbabie0 · 2 months ago

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how do you think a marriage between cregan and a lannister daughter would go?

love ur writing! keep up the good work <33

-Cregan Stark x LannisterWife!Reader

Synopsis: {Your Lord husband seems to be the only one who can calm you}

For my other works my Masterlist is here <3

This is an old request but thank you nonetheless// hope you enjoy my lovelies💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾

You were a comely girl, always have been so it was no surprise that the Lord Stark had taken an interest in you during his time in the Red Keep- in which you were sent by members of your house to try and get your family back into the good books of the people in the court.

A feat you weren’t so successful in, having been turned away by numerous people or called horrid things behind your back sometimes plainly to your face. Every day spent at court was a blow to your pride, and gods did it make you a bitter person.

Cregan Stark found entertainment in your company, through his blunt banter and snarky remarks the way in which you would come back at him with all your might. Before he knew it he was completely infatuated with you and made an offer you simply couldn’t refuse, leaving Kings Landing.

Sometimes you regret ever accepting the damn deal.

“Get any closer and you’ll set that pretty blonde hair of yours on fire.” His rough voice breaks through the silence from his place at the desk where he had been reading through a couple of letters.

You roll your eyes, shuffling closer to the flames that crackle and snap within the hearth just in spite at the sound of his chuckle. He watches you closely, marvelling at how the warm orangey light of the flames splay across your face making your hair glow like fine threads of golden silk.

“Perhaps if it weren’t so cold then I wouldn’t have to sit this close.” You huff, pulling his furs that you had stolen over your shoulders.

“Winterfell is built upon a hot spring, the castle is plenty warm you’re just looking for an excuse to whine.” He says and you can practically hear the smirk that tugs on his handsome face.

You don’t answer him, instead letting silence and the soft sounds of the fireplace overtake your shared bedchambers however your lack of response doesn’t deter Cregan from continuing.

“You should wear something warmer than silks and airy dresses, my sweet.” The words are laced with amusement, he leans forward on his chair, resting his elbows on his knees, searching your unimpressed expression with his dark eyes.

“And wear dull shades greys?… no thank you.” You tell him, not wanting to accept the fact that perhaps there was slight truth to his words, still not meeting his gaze.

“So you’d rather freeze for the sake of what? Fashion? Very smart of you.” He replies sarcastically. “Especially for a Lannister, quite impressive my love.”

Your head snaps over to his direction, glaring up at him with narrowed eyes as he all but smirks back at you. He never failed to rile you up, bringing you to a burning point only to leave you all frustrated or worse— when he touches you in such a reverent way that makes you feel like a goddess, you couldn’t help but completely bend to his will. You swear he takes joy in bruising your pride.

He reaches over, brushing a curl of your hair behind your ear with a tenderness that he’s only ever shown to you and somehow just like that your anger ebbs away like snow underneath a summer's sun.

But you wouldn’t succumb that quickly and so you shrug off his hand, turning back to the fireplace with a small huff and he laughs because he knows- despite your little show- that he has you right where he wants you.

Cregan stands up from his chair, making his way over to a much more comfortable one that sits in front of the grand fireplace— closer to you. Despite how much you both clash at times he loves you, ever so dearly. He had defended you countless times back in Kings Landing and Winterfell, against anyone who dared try to speak poorly upon your name. Not just because of his marriage vows or honour, but because he sees you as you are not the hardened women the years had made of you.

There was a warmth to you, he’d seen it in glimpses. The way you care for his son as if he were your own, how you have your maids bring two cups of tea- one for him and one for you- to sate his sweet tooth.

You push yourself up from the floor, trying to distance yourself from him but he’s quick to catch your hips in his big hands. With a wolfish grin, he tugs you onto his lap and you accept defeat, it was too tiring to fight a man so headstrong.

“I’ll warm you up if you’re still cold.” He mumbles gruffly, wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you tightly against his chest.

The warmth from his study body melts away the tension between your shoulder blades and you can’t help but sigh in contentment, leaning against him as he tugs you impossibly closer to him.

His hands caress the curve of your hips, looking up at you with a lazy smile. “I am still a little cold, I wouldn’t mind.” You reply playfully, trailing your fingertips along his cheek in small patterns.

“Ah, there she is…” Cregan whispers, relishing at the sight of your smile that you try so hard to fight off.

“Yes, yes, marvel whilst you can, it won’t last long.” The words make Cregan chuckle, his hands mapping out the outline of your body, caressing along your ribcage.

“Then I shall marvel with all my heart.” He promises, pressing a kiss against your shoulder, then another to your jaw. The wispy hairs of his beard tickle your skin as he nuzzles against you on purpose.

A pleasured hum escapes you by accident and by the way he smirks against your neck you can tell he’s holding back some sort of snarky comment, instead choosing to savour this moment and the way you lean into his touch.

He takes his time, showering your shoulders in kisses- trailing his lips up to the soft curve of your jaw and pushing the furs that drape over your shoulders off until they’re sitting on the floor leaving you in just a thin silky dress.

“What’s gotten you in such a mood, huh?” Cregan asks, leaning back against the cushioned sofa to really drink in the sight of you perched upon his lap.

You shrug your shoulders, lacing your fingers with his own. “I feel out of place, more so than often.” The words send an ache through his chest, his brows immediately furrowing at the confession.

It wasn’t a new thing for him to hear, however, that never made it any easier. Cregan remembers the first night you arrived in the North, the tears— gods, you were inconsolable. He understood why, the place was far from home and the people were hardened by the cold weather and then there was you… the complete opposite in every way, that’s why he spent all night whispering words of comfort and holding you.

“Silly girl, come here.” He says, coaxing you to lay against his chest and without hesitation, you curl up into him, your head resting on his shoulder as his fingers brush through your silken hair. “I’d have no one else by my side except you, my girl, understand?” He whispers, pressing a kiss against your hairline.

You nod against his shoulder, melting against him with a small sigh. “Mhm, of course, I do.” Your words are muffled against the soft fabric of his tunic, the smell of firewood and leather clinging to him- it was comforting, like home.

Cregan tilts your head upwards slightly, his gaze softening as he admires your face. “Don’t doubt the place you have in my heart… ever.” He tells you with a loving tone, so soft and caring, before leaning down to steal a delicate kiss from your lips.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾

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moonieandi · 3 months ago

Text

snapshots pt. 2 | stanley pines x f!reader

summary: a quick look through concerning the early months of your life “married” to stanley pines, particularly centered around moments in the car

warnings (TW): swearing, illegal activities (of course), descriptions of panic/panic attack or general anxiety, alcohol consumption

tags: fluff, early relationship described, pining, very slight angst, affection

notes: i mean, i liked writing part one? so … i’m just gonna keep writing? do what brings you joy and all that jazz. alsooooo im currently unemployed and have too much time on my hands. any feedback is appreciated, seeing as this is the first (second) time i’m publishing online !

edit 8/27/24: hello! below i have linked my new masterlist that contains updated parts to this series, thank you and hope you enjoy!

word count: 3.7k

| masterlist | part iii |

When you reside within the same place as another, you begin to notice particular behaviors. Of course, Stanley had resided in an unquantifiable number of places in the last decade, but he had forgotten what it was like to live alongside someone.

Forgot about the consideration of messes and manners, and forgot about his socks in corners and cans on bedside tables. These were things he never had to consider when he was confined to a single room and a shared bunk with his brother, but she was different.

The first couple months he found himself stumbling around her at times. Let her lead through doorways, ask her what she would like for dinner, using odds and ends as a coaster here and there.

But she was much the same in that way.

She hadn’t ever had to share her space like this, much less with a man. She fumbled with answers concerning dinner, forgot her delicates in the washer routinely, and had a habit of throwing her feet up on Stanley’s chair when he sat across from her at their poor excuse of a dinner table.

But this was months ago.

No, they both had noticed these intricacies about the other and had more or less adapted around them. Laundry was done half-heartedly, a quick combination of their socks and delicates. A calendar made its home on the fridge with scribbles of dinner plans, and her feet were shuffled onto his lap every night, adjusted to fit across his hips.

But she still leads through most doorways. He would never admit to why.

There were other, smaller things too. These things made him ache somewhere behind his sternum, and he usually shook them off.

Small things like how she curled at her end of the couch, or how she brought her face to any page she was scribbling on, always squinting. How she tidied the living room every morning like they would be having guests. How she came to the kitchen every morning, hand outstretched for the mug he had deemed hers.

He decided to forget about these things. At least some of them that is.

He knew for a fact that she loved it when he drove the most. She enjoyed the movement of the trees out the window, enjoyed stretching her feet up to his dash (despite his initial protest), and she loved the radio in particular.

Common law says to keep your eyes on the road, and both hands on the wheel. But it was very hard to conduct when she leaned forward towards the radio, singing under her breath. She was so relaxed here beside him on the long bench in the front of his long-loved car.

The car had been through hell and back, but he was sure it’d never encountered anything as enchanting as her bellowing singing. It would ring through the car, only ever on the way home, and only ever after a bar visit. The buzz would stray his eyes from wheel and headlights to her, head thrown back singing.

He swerved on the road more than he cared to admit when she was in the car. The reminder of her safety usually woke him up from his fantasies of her with her head thrown back, with her hair spilling around her, and a flush on her cheeks.

But he rarely kept both hands on the wheel, to begin with anyway. His right arm always flung behind, scrunched on the back part of her seat, itching to find the soft back of her neck.

Clearing his throat, he adjusted himself in his seat, both hands returning to the wheel. A smile never leaving his face, a laugh rising as she scooted closer, incoherent 70’s BABBA lyrics sung into his right ear.

He’d admit he likes driving her, in particular, around.

They had made for town for a handful of differing supplies that day.

Stanley, Stan, had a bright idea to earn some seasonal money by making the front half of the shack into a tourist attraction. After an explanation of his initial encounter with a group of town folk upon his first couple days in the shack, she had nodded along in agreement.

They needed money, and the need was only growing of course.

She was the farthest from a financial advisor, but she knew the reserve of money she had come to town with was dwindling, and with them both diving head-first into Ford’s basement business, the idea of money had seemed trivial, at least to her, those first couple months.

She knew though that money wasn’t a trivial thing for Stan (Stanley). That he hadn’t had a successful last decade, and that her life strayed from his own background astronomically.

That was one thing that grated her slightly. How flippantly he spoke of Ford to her, but how he had not shared himself as willingly. It didn’t make him a liar to withhold said information, but the state of Stanley’s (Stan’s) car backseat that first month spoke of a man on the run.

But he had lit up so differently when he dragged her to the front of the shack's cluttered room. Explaining where things would go, a cash register, a display case, and certain merchandise. She’ll admit to perhaps not completely listening to him at the time, but later she would look back and reflect on how he was unsurprisingly a great salesman.

He had been so happy, dragging her from corner to corner, painting pictures with words, but he had looked too enchanting for her to really hear it. One hand in his pocket, the other gesturing, and a smile upon his handsome figure. He had reached back out, dragging her back to the front door, hand on the small of her back as he ushered her around.

It was a dump up here, truly. The one place in the house she hadn’t gotten to scouring for clues yet. She was unsure as to why she left the room untouched at the moment, but she thinks it had a lot to do with the panicked memory of meeting Stan (Stanley), and how the glow of the backroom reflected on his face made her wander in through the front door like a madwoman.

She made for the car very soon after his explanation, eager to get the supplies he would need to renovate the front of the room. He had beaten her of course, opening and closing the passenger door without so much as a prompt, and making his way to the driver's side.

The drive into town had been great as always. It was one of those mid-spring days. Wet on the windshield and crisp until 10 a.m. The hardware store served its purpose, as they wandered from aisle to aisle, looking for particular wood stains and sandpaper.

“Here it is Stanl-” He had come up behind her abruptly. Hand coming up to her mouth, stopping her sentence, flicking his eyes up and down the aisle.

She turned to face him, an apology already on her lips. But he was already looking down at her, a hidden heat behind his eyes.

“What did I tell ya, hun?” He whispered it in the space between them. “I told ya, I can’t be that here.”

He couldn’t be him anywhere anymore, at least not in the light of day. She had tried to shake the old him, but somewhere in the far reaches of her mind, she had a hard time calling him Stan.

Because she knew it meant he was being Ford, not Lee. And it was hard to lie about anything concerning him, concerning Stanley.

He sighed, his hand leaving her lips and running through his long hair. “We gotta get outta here anyways. Come along, hun.” A practiced smile reached the corners of his mouth, another lie.

Unfortunately for his psyche, the cashier wanted to talk their ear off also.

“Oh hiya, Stanford!” And of course, they knew his brother.

A smile crawled up his face anyway, making nice like he figured his brother may have done all those months ago.

“Getting supplies? Any new projects?”

“Uh nah nah, not at the moment. Looking into renovating parts of the shack for some business right now.”

“Business? Really? Never took you for much of a businessman.” The cashier continued to bag their samplings of wood stains. “But hey, life takes ya in odd directions sometimes!”

He tisked. “Don’t I know it buddy.” He shook his head a little, grabbing the bag, peering over his shoulder checking for his smaller shadow. She followed in his wake, slightly downtrodden to have cut their store visit short with her stupid mouth.

“Oh, Stanford!” The cashier called, but he didn’t turn until she reached for his jacket’s dirty red sleeve, tugging to turn him back. Flushed, he meets the cashier's outstretched hand.

“The receipt! You always want the receipt.”

He crushed the receipt in his hand. “Right… right ya, thanks.”

She followed him back to the car, her hand never leaving his sleeve, brushing her warmth against his slightly shaking palm. He doesn’t forget to open her door or to slam the wood stains and sandpaper into the back of the car.

The ride back was tense, and not of its usual bravado and fanfare. He had peeled out of the parking lot all too quickly and regretted it the next moment as he looked over and watched her pale in the passenger seat.

She didn’t reach for the radio, hands folded on her lap. She didn’t look out her window, as the trees blurred differently under Stanley’s hasty speed.

Under Stan’s hasty speed.

He didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of this mess. And he definitely didn’t want to upset her. His arm never met the back of her seat, his knuckles tight around the steering wheel.

He didn’t think of pulling over until he looked at her halfway home. Ram-rod straight, pale as all hell, and eyes blurry with undescribed grief.

He cursed under his breath, pulling the car off to the side of the road, gravel underfoot.

She got like this at times, at his temper. He knew at times he could be loud, that he raised his voice at inconveniences and the T.V. Knew that her lip curled in a particular way when on a very off day, his frustration explodes in her face. He was quick to anger at times, and she was quick to cover.

He made himself so big in the face of things, but she folded into a different shape when he did. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he prayed she knew that he would never turn his anger to her. That he had raised fists before and spilled blood, but he’d never raise them again unless it was for her, if she would allow it.

But he doesn't want her to get small in the face of his, well, everything. Because he had been angry at so many things in succession in his life he lost count, and he doesn’t want to lose the part of himself that cared for her in his anger, and he doesn't want her to fold into odd shapes and shadows in the face of him anymore. But above all, he didn’t want the reminder of his father to taint whatever the hell this was. It was bad enough he saw glimpses of him in the passing reflections from time to time.

He loved the fight in her eyes when they spat back and forth sometimes, a sarcastic, fake fight brewing between them. That’s how they both always ended up laughing at the dinner table most nights, and how he felt closer to her most days. His anger was never her responsibility, or her doing. She had never truly upset him once, and the way they played with words back and forth over a meal like an old married couple rattled a few rusty cogs in his brain from time to time. That his anger could at least be amusing, because when she smiled he forgot all about it anyway.

So he parks the car in Spring and turns to her with his guts in his lap for the first time since he spoke to her that Winter night when he thought his prayers had been answered when she plowed through the shack’s door like a tidal wave.

“I hate this.” He sighed. “And I can’t stand when you fucking look at me like that.”

Her lip curled. Fuck fuck fuck.

“I know.” It wobbled out her mouth. “I ruined the day, I’m sorry.”

He leans back, his hand meeting the back of her seat. A beat, before he turns to her completely, like he does every night across the dinner table with her feet propped across the entirety of his lap.

“I don’t want you to apologize to me. You should never have to apologize to me. I don’t want you to, ever fucking think you gotta hand that over to me again. Because you’ve never done anything to upset me doll, not ever.”

She sniffles, a moment of crisp silence. Spring rain beats on the windows in a mist. A smile comes to her lips, and he sags in relief, anger fading.

“Except when I forget the laundry on the line.” She’s cracking jokes now?

“Except that ya, because I kinda need socks and underwear mmk?” He laughs only slightly, a tiredness seeping into his posture.

“I didn’t used to be like this.”

“Like what?”

“A bad liar.” He admits. He hadn’t disclosed much of his past to her. He wasn’t ashamed of it much when it came to disclosing his long resume to others, but she made him nervous. And he hadn’t been really, truly, honestly nervous in a long time. So he did what he does best, and he lied.

“I could buy the shirt off your back from ya in under 10 minutes I swear.” He readjusts in his seat again, hand slowly creeping up the back of her seat still. “I’m a great liar, it’s how I made it from state to state, and the reason I’m not allowed back in Pennsylvania.”

She laughs truly now. She had figured that was what he was used to. Long trips and longer fibs. She didn’t care much about the morality of it, because when she imagined him somehow corrupt in her mind's eye she remembered him bent over her on the couch, and how it felt to listen to the T.V. fade into the background as he carried her up the stairs. The faintness of her sheets, and the brush of his hand on her hairline.

“But I can’t lie about this, or at least I'm really fucking bad at it.” He interrupts her thought. “I’m the farthest thing from Stanford Pines.”

“Perhaps you are, Lee.” A name she hadn’t used out loud fell between them. “But no one ever asked you to be him.”

She realized quickly in her desperation to reassure him that she was also being a hypocrite. It was hard to call him Stan, she realized, but only because she was afraid of hurting him. The memory of Stanford still lived between them, and although they tried to shutter his existence in the basement they both weren’t very good at playing pretend yet.

But they would need to be. It’d need to be the best con he’d ever pulled, that they had ever pulled. He just wasn’t used to having a partner quite yet. But they needed to be honest now if they were gonna pull it off and bring Stanford home.

“You don’t need to be him. I know you aren’t him Stanley, and I don’t want you to be.” She paused, considering. “If we are going to do all this though, we need to work together. I-I need to get better, I need to call you Stan, and you need to believe me when I tell you I’m staying for the long haul.”

He sighs again, readjusting to look over at her.

“I lived a long time trying to be something great like I thought he was, like I know he is. But I haven’t, I hadn’t, seen him in so long. I don’t know who he is anymore.”

“You both have a surprising lot in common, actually.” She shrugs, a smile coming to her lips in memory. “You both smile the same, and you both doodle the same way, and you both tilt your head to the left when I ask a dumbass question.”

He laughs at this, a memory of passing scribbles and doodles in class back and forth, and the comic books he would spend all night drawing in their shared room’s lamplight. Some things always stick, at least.

She bridged the gap of some odd ten years, and he could at least be thankful about that.

“I just want you to know… Stan. That when I do call you Stan, I mean Stanley- not Stanford.” She shrugs again, nervous. “Because you’re not him, you're right, and if you don’t want me to lie about this one small detail, it can be between us.”

She had somehow come to the heart of his predicament without much digging. He had worn many hats in his time bouncing from state to state, a conman, a businessman, a thief, and a liar. But he didn’t wanna make her one of those things, and he knew by associating with him she would need to be. Just in the blur of it all, he didn't want to be someone else to her. Not even in name. He wanted there to be honesty between them because otherwise, it wouldn't work. What wouldn’t work?

He finds resolution in her answer. That he will always be Stanley to her, and Stanford to others, at least for the time being. Oddly intimate, closely personal. He wouldn't linger on the thought.

“You’re right as usual, doll.” A smirk comes to his lips. “Team?” He questions, fist uncurling from the back of her seat, brushing between them to meet for a bump.

She smiles brightly now, meeting him in the middle. “Team.”

He sinks in the seat, beat from the emotions of the last hour already. “Okay we need to do something fucking fun now.”

“Like what?” Amused, she reaches between them to turn the radio back on, sick of the silence in the shell of the car. A hum already on her lips.

He smiles, a scheme on his lips, a memory playing in his head when he looks at her.

She flushes, a quick shake of her head. “No, no, no Stan, no I am not doing it no.”

He loves how she fights it but he knows how to get his way with her already, even if it has only been a short six months. Flushed in her seat, and begging him. Fuck.

All he has to do is fucking smile, with that stupid glint in his eyes. “Yes, ya are!” He taunts, a laugh already bellowing. “You’re driving!”

“I don’t fucking know how and you know it!” She had been embarrassed to admit it to him that one night, that she had made it this long without a driver’s license, but he had all but said please that night, vying for blackmail from her. He had told her about his kiddy comic books, so she had to fess up to something stupid of equal measure he felt.

“I’ll teach ya!”

He was already out his door and around the front of the car, opening her own, and reaching across her lap to unbuckle her from her seat when she continued to shake her head.

She moved only when he began slipping his hand under her thigh and around her back to move her across the long bench to the front of the wheel. He sometimes forgot about where he put his hands on her, when he was giddy like this. She never minded, though.

She was still shaking her head when he reached back over her to buckle her into her new spot behind the wheel, laughing all the way. Amused by her protest of this simple thing. Only amused, because he knew deep down she was actually okay with it. Another fake fight ongoing between them, some old cogs moving in his head.

He moved back some, but resided half in the passenger seat and half in the middle, his big hand on her thigh. Fuck.

He leaned down (Fuck), his other hand pointing at things she should have been paying attention to. This is like the shack all over again.

He looked back at her, even more amused by her flustered face, and repeated himself like he knew what was going on in her head. Because, well, he kinda did.

“This is the petal to the right, and the break to the left, doll.” He brings his hand back to the wheel. “This stick on the left is the turn signal, and this stick on the right is the shifter.”

She began to breath again when he moved away, but he was still chuckling through ever sentence of course. Too handsome for his own good.

“Now all ya gotta do, doll, is shift from park to drive, but put ur foot on the break first.”

“Uh… this one?” She put her left foot on the left most pedal.

He squeezed her thigh, goddamnit, leaning back into her to basically physically move her foot.

“No, no, ya gotta only use your right foot. You can’t use both.”

“Why not?”

He shrugs, tilting his head left at her dumbass question. “Because I said so.” He laughs again, hand still very warm and very present.

“Okay, okay… okay.”

He nods. “Okay okay okay, now just shift the right rod up here.” He grabs her hand, bringing it up and showing her the different gears and how to count through them. Forgetting himself in his amusement, hand still on her fucking thigh.

He laughs all the way home, and she thinks it’s worth the constant breaking she does in the middle of the road when she gets spooked by the speed of the car. The road is luckily empty, and the radio is drowned out by Stan’s commentary. She doesn’t mind the jabs at her newfound skill, and he takes jabs right back when she slams the break particularly hard and his head gets precariously close to the dash. She doubles over at that one, amused by the sudden shock on his face, but quickly distracted by the hand still on her fucking thigh. He thinks she looks nice like that, behind his wheel.

They make it back to the shack in one piece, but he’s the one that has to reach over to shift the car back into park.

He realizes when he looks back over at her, that he had forgotten his anger a while ago, and that his hand had made a new home on the soft of the back of her neck, moving from her thigh when he shifted gears.

He would let her drive again, if it meant this.

She’d admit she likes driving him, in particular, around.

He’d just need to stock up on brake pads.

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls imagine #stanley pines #stanley pines x reader #stan pines #stan pines x reader #grunkle stan

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prettygiri222 · 10 months ago

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okay but imagine eren seen a video of his baby momma at the club singin sexy redd’s “ FUCK MY BABYDADDY ” 😭😭 he just brings their son or daughter to reader’s mom and goes back to reader’s house and tears them TF upppp.

i can just hear him saying “ fuck yo baby who?? oh aight. ”

I had to add rapper!Eren to this cause it's something I always wanted to write😋

Eren x Black Fem Reader, PLOT + SMUT

rapper Eren Yeager's longtime girlfriend of six years broke up with him after having his first child, Duke Yeager. Eren shared a post on instagram confirming their breakup but stated that the both of them remain in Duke’s life as co-parents. the reason why was unreleased so fans speculated that Eren must’ve cheated because why else would you willingly break up with the famous rapper. his management released a statement saying it was due to conflicting schedules but it was seen as damage control so no one believed it.

during the six years of the relationship, his management managed to keep your face out of the media. but with the way Eren was constantly posting snippets of you, fans soon discovered who you were after matching physical features, traits and location that were found on his story with the ones present on your small instagram.

you two quickly became the it couple, how the girl from nowhere pulled a famous rapper gave fans hope because they saw them reflected in you. a woman who didn’t have to undergo multiple surgeries to pull the industry's finest. but after the breakup, that image fell.

his management did their best to keep things under wraps to keep the media from tormenting you but it didn’t work. when you posted a picture of yourself postpartum your dms filled with hateful comments wondering why Eren had gotten with you in the first place. you knew it was just jealous fangirls but it still got to you, especially since you weren’t all that confident in your new body and still recovering from your pregnancy. your accounts went silent shortly after.

although the breakup was mutual, the reason why was deeper than scheduling conflicts. you needed someone who was able to be there physically, emotionally and mentally. it was hard for Eren to provide that due to his career path, always travelling the world with a packed schedule. you guys did your best to make it work but after Duke came into the world you just couldn’t handle it anymore.

Eren was a decent baby daddy and you guys co-parented well. you had full custody of him but when Eren was in town and would have time off you would send Duke over to him. Duke loved his daddy, always wanting to watch his concerts and interviews on the TV when he wasn’t there or free to facetime. Eren always made sure to send double what was asked for in child support to make sure you took care of yourself as well as his son.

that’s why when you reposted your friend’s story of you in the club all hell broke loose. people took it as a diss to your baby daddy, which it was, but not in the way they thought.

earlier that week you had dropped Duke off at Eren’s mansion. he had just flown back in from his world tour and finally had a few weeks off. despite being exhausted he called you up and asked if you could bring Duke over, wanting to spend as much time with his son as possible during his break. he sent over an uber black to pick the two of you up.

when Eren met you two at the door, Duke jumped into his arms smiling and giggling. it’s been a while since he’s seen his daddy in person. the sight made you awe. Eren turned to you and asked if you wanted to stay over so he could spend time with the two most important people in his life but sadly you declined. you didn’t want to interrupt their father and son bonding time.

Duke was almost a clone of Eren, he had his sharp green eyes, german nose and face shape. the only hints of you in him were his full lips, darker skin and coils. Duke was your little bundle of joy but he could be a handful at times. during the few times those two got to spend together Eren spoiled him rotten, whatever he wanted he got and it showed. whenever you told him no he would throw a tantrum saying how he wanted his daddy. you knew you were a good mother but hearing him say that when you were the one who took care of him every day hurt.

---

it was a friday night and Eren was at his crib chilling with Duke. he had his phone on do now disturb so his time with his family wouldn’t be interrupted. it was a shame you weren’t here to spend time with them. after having pizza, soda and ice cream for dinner the boys passed out on the couch after staying up past midnight watching movies.

his peace was soon interrupted by the constant buzz of his phone. it roused him from his sleep but Duke slept through it. after the third ring, he finally answered the phone. he was pissed that his manager was calling him knowing it was his time off but he figured it must be important for them to use emergency bypass to call.

“what’s going on?” his voice gruff from his slumber and irritation. he turned on his phone to see it flooded with notifications from instagram, snapchat, tiktok, twitter, messages, missed calls from his friends and one from his mom and his heart dropped to his stomach. he hadn't dropped anything new recently so he knew whatever was happening had to be bad.

“well… it’s about your baby mama… she uh…” his manager was at a loss for words. he didn't know the words to describe the situation to make it not seem as bad as the media was already making it out to be. he knew Eren would be pissed when he found out what happened and they didn't want to be on the end of it.

Eren was extremely protective of his family and friends. when he saw the hate you were receiving after you posted a picture of yourself postpartum he took to twitter immediately. he did not play when it came to you, together or not together. you were the mother of his child and you needed your respect. so he was wondering why you were playing in his face like this.

“well what is it?” he snapped, already losing his patience. “is she ok? is she hurt?” he shot upright from his resting position on the couch. he opened up the group chat between him, Armin, Connie, Onyankopon and Jean first. all that was sent was a blurry video followed by a bunch of skull and grave emojis.

he opened the video and immediately recognized the faces of a few of the girls in it as a few of your friends, Sasha, Mikasa and Historia at a club. Sasha, Connie’s model girlfriend was the one to record them singing along to a sexyy red song. he wondered what the video had to do with him until it panned to you. you stood out with your brightly dyed red hair styled in a what he recognized as a wash-and-go.

“fuck my baby daddy! fuck my baby daddy! fuck my baby daddy!” you were shouting the lyrics a little bit too passionately. you had your middle fingers stuck up to the camera showing off your glittery red acrylic nails. you were clearly wasted, drunk off of whatever drinks Sasha managed to shove down your throat.

“yes bitch!” your friends shouted as you turned around to shake your ass sticking out your tongue. you were wearing a ripped mesh dress. one of your friends reached out to pull down the back of your dress to prevent your ass from showing but the dress was already leaving very little to the imagination. the pregnancy did your body good, you were a bit on the skinny side before but now your hips had filled out, your ass and boobs swole and your skin finally cleared up. you were glowing.

“I’m a fine ass bitch, I ain’t in the in the house sad!” you were feeling yourself. it felt nice to get out of the house and away from Duke no matter how much you loved him. having to take care of a baby by yourself was tiring, no matter how much Eren supported you from afar you needed him there with you.

your friends were hyping you up and your mind grew hazy from both the alcohol and adrenaline. you were far too gone to realize what you said when you yelled “fuck Eren!” instead of the actual lyrics. the camera quickly panned to the floor before the video stopped.

Eren had to replay the video countless times to process what he had seen and heard. but he couldn’t believe it was you. never in the eight years he’s known you have you ever picked up the phone to send a dig at him through social media. no matter how tough the going got, it’s what he respected about you. you always wanted to talk problems through and try to make it work. Eren clenched his fist looking at you now.

Eren knows how baby mamas like you are seen and treated in the industry. he’s seen how they're constantly bashed and embarrassed by the fathers of their children and the media. Eren never wanted that for you, he wanted to give you a ring before he gave you a baby but accidents happen and here you both were. instead of calling him or stopping by to talk you wanted to show out for the fans and diss him. it was stupid of you, he knew you were better than this.

“so it’s “fuck Eren” is that right,” Eren laughed to himself throwing his head back on the couch. sure he couldn’t be there for you and Duke all the time like he wanted but at least he tried. he was a very busy man. but he did what he had to to make sure his mother, Duke and you could have a nice and cozy life. where Duke didn’t have to worry about if he was going to eat dinner that night. “bet.”

“sorry little man but I have to go get your mommy. you’re going to go to stay with your grandma tonight, ok?” he cooed to Duke, waking him up. Duke slowly woke up and was trying to rub the sleep out of his eye. Eren loved his son very much he was the reason he kept this stressful life up.

he enjoyed making music and performing but not during the days when he slept in the studio trying to find the perfect lyrics and beat or days where he hardly slept because he had to stay on his feet. it was a fast life and if he couldn’t keep up it would all come crashing down. and for you to make a dig at that knowing how he felt was fucked.

“Eren Yeager!” his manager shouted through the phone overhearing the whole thing. he needed Eren to keep a calm head and not do anything rash tonight. he didn’t need him sparking more outrage in the media or doing something that could potentially ruin the relationship you two had. “what are you going to do?”

“what else, I’m going to go fuck my baby mama,” before his manager could get another word out he hung up the phone.

“daddy said a bad word!”

“...don’t tell your mom and I’ll bring you to the studio with me.”

---

you wobbled into your apartment with a sheepish grin. it felt like a huge weight was lifted off your shoulder tonight. it’s been a while since you went to the club and got so drunk that the world became a blur. you were slowly regaining memories of what happened that night and you couldn’t help but cringe knowing you would regret some of them in the morning. your phone died on your way home after you reposted Sasha’s story so you were oblivious to the buzz you had created.

when you went to unlock your door you found out that it was already open. you raised your brow but you brushed it off thinking you must’ve forgotten to lock it in your rush to leave the house. you knew the security for your building was tight, it was the main thing you were looking for when you were buying your apartment. it was a necessity since Duke was the son of a successful rapper.

when you and Eren had split you bought yourself a nice little two-bedroom apartment deep in the city. Eren offered to pay for it but you immediately declined, you didn’t want anything else of yours to get attached to him. during your relationship you saved up a lot of money since Eren had always offered to buy you whatever you wanted and spoiled you rotten just like he was doing with Duke. he fueled your shopping addiction only wanting his girlfriend to have the best of the best.

you had a little side hustle as an occasional hairstylist and nail artist for your friends and family with the occasional new client. Eren told you time and time again you didn’t need to work and that he would take care of everything. but you liked having your own source of income it made you feel independent plus you enjoyed your job.

being able to close on your dream apartment was a dream come true and it left you feeling satisfied. you loved how everything was within walking distance, there was a daycare down the street along with an elementary school for when Duke got older. there was a grocery store right around the corner with a few outlets and public transit ran just outside the building, it was perfect for a single mother like you.

“thought we were doing good with this co-parenting shit mama?” the second you opened the door you were greeted by a voice you knew better than your own. goosebumps covered your arms, ‘why is he here’ you thought.

“Eren?” you called out into the dark apartment. you felt the wall closest to the door for the switch and turned the light on. and there he was, Eren, your famous baby daddy. he turned his head to look at you from where he was seated on the couch. his eyes were extremely low, watching your every move. “are you ok? where's Duke?”

“with your mom,” Eren was having such a pleasant high, he felt so relaxed and calm in the dark room. he didn’t have the TV on and was just staring at the black screen. but the second the room lit up and you walked through the door with that tiny see-through dress on it dispersed. he narrowed his eyes down at you and you could tell you had just blown his high. his anger simmering underneath his calm demeanour.

“how’d you even get in?” you never gave Eren the key to your apartment. having already been split and you always dropped Duke off at his place there was no reason for him to have one.

“front desk gave me a key after I flashed a couple of stacks,” he replied nonchalantly, like it wasn’t a crime on both parts. you rolled your eyes, this was how Eren fixed all his problems, with money. you get that when he was growing up it was something he didn’t have but now that he had it was like all he knew how to do was throw it at people to make his problems disappear.

“well if Duke isn’t here then there’s no reason for you to be,” you don’t know what you did to warrant this visit but you didn’t want to be in his presence any longer. you liked to keep your contact with Eren as minimal as possible. plus you didn’t have the energy to deal with him tonight, you were tired. hoping he would get the hint it was time to leave you walked away and headed towards your bedroom, “please see yourself out. we can talk another day.”

“nah, 'cause it’s “fuck Eren” right?” he got up from the couch and followed you down the hall and into your room. the wooden floor creaking under his weight. you didn’t have to turn around to know he was towering over you, you could feel him breathing down your neck. you tried to move away from him but he gripped your waist with a firm grip underneath and pulled you against him. “you must’ve gone crazy going so long with my dick huh? that must be it, acting like you lost your damn mind.”

“Eren!” you pulled away to look back at him in shock. “what are you even talking about?”

“don’t play dumb with me mama, your ass is all over the shade room talking about “fuck my baby daddy” ” he took his phone out of his pocket to show you their newest post. it was a screenshot of a video but it was clearly you, it was the same outfit and hairstyle you had on right now. you swiped the image on his phone in disbelief and the video played, “fuck Eren! fuck my baby daddy! fuck my baby daddy!”

“oh my gosh! Eren, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, I was drunk and got carried away,” you looked up at him from the phone. you could tell he was pissed, his eyes darkened after hearing what you said in the video for the hundredth time. you were horrified, you didn’t mean to air out your personal problems and make Eren seem like a bad father. you knew how the public blew things out of proportion.

“they say drunk words are sober thoughts,” Eren stated, shrugging his shoulders. “I know Duke be stressing you out ma, let me fix it,” he stared down at you with a little smirk. he licked his lips, obviously checking you out. it's been a while since he's seen your body exposed, you always show up to drop Duke off in oversized sweaters and shirts. just looking at you like this made his dick hard, “plus you owe me an apology.”

that’s how you found yourself face down ass up in your bedroom with the man you’d never thought would step foot in your new apartment. Eren was behind you standing at the edge of the bed, his black and grey nike tech sweater was thrown somewhere in your room leaving him in a white wife beater and his golden cuban link chain. his grey sweats were down so that just his dick was out.

“mm fuck Eren! please,” you cried out. no matter how deeply you arched or angled your hips you couldn’t get him to reach where you needed him the most. he knew that but he loved watching you struggle and the way your brown cheeks jiggled after coming into contact with his pelvis. you were a sight to see, one that he deeply missed.

“you can do better than that mama,” he raised his pierced brow watching you. Eren stood completely still behind you, you had your face buried in the sheets as you attempted to throw it back on him. you were still dressed in your mesh dress but he ripped your thong off. “I saw you in that video. you were shaking that shit so c’mon, fuck me back ma.”

your makeup was staining your sheets but you could care less right now. the feeling of Eren stretching out your practically virginal walls was dumbfounding. he didn’t bother to stretch you out believing that your body was already moulded to his shape. but it’s been about two years since you last had sex. your tight walls were struggling to accommodate his humongous size.

“ ’m trying,” the lack of stimulation on your sweet spots had you in tears. the stretch was pleasurable but it wasn’t enough, paired with the shallow thrusts. you so desperately craved more so you reached in between your legs to play with your clit. Eren groaned at the sight of you touching yourself, not to mention you began to clench around him.

“damn ma, now that’s what I’m talking about,” Eren gave your ass a harsh slap. you let out a little whine as you lost your rhythm because of it. but you soon found it again. your wetness was soaking his dick and you were basically twerking on his dick. Eren loved every second of it.

he took one of your ass cheeks and pulled it to the side with his tattooed hand, he watched himself go in and out of your brown folds. feeling the unsteady approach of his orgasm watching as you struggled to fuck yourself on him he decided to finally grant you mercy. he languidly began to thrust into you. “go ahead and nut on this dick mama.”

“o-okay” you stuttered out. you struggled to concentrate on stimulating your sensitive clit while bouncing back to meet Eren’s lazy thrusts. your fingers were covered in your own wetness while you rubbed little circles on your bud. each loop paired with the tip of his dick pressing against that spongy spot inside you brought you ever closer to your climax. “ ‘m so close!”

“let it out for me baby,” the pace became erratic, you guys’ release at its peak. sometimes his dick collided straight into your soft spot and sometimes it completely missed. but the feeling of him pummeling in and out of you had you convulsing around his dick. “keep squeezing around me like that and I'll put another baby in you, fuck.”

you let out broken whines as you struggled to continuously stimulate your bud. you were soaking wet that your fingers slipped around. “‘ren! ren!” you chanted, reaching out toward him with your slick-covered hand. Eren grabbed it and put it in his mouth. groaning deeply as he licked and sucked on your coated digits.

“don’t worry mama, I got you. let it out for me,” Eren leaned over your arched form and whispered in your ear. his husky sending shivers down your spine as he talked you through it. you listened to him feeling the wave of pleasure overwhelm you, the sensation in your stomach bursting.

“f-fuck, fuck!”

“shit,” when he felt himself about to burst he pulled out of your pussy's compelling grasp. he watched the lewd scene in front of him and used it to jerk off. he groaned out stroking his soaking dick. your pussy hole remained gaping after he pulled out and your liquids were spilling on your sheets. after a few strokes, he released all over your back onto your mesh dress staining it.

you plopped down onto your empty bed exhausted. the room filled with the sound of laboured breathing as you guys tried to catch your breath. the sound of Eren shuffling around could be heard soon after. your heart ached at the thought of him leaving you so soon but you closed your eyes, ‘it’s for the better’ you thought. you wanted a few moments of rest before you went to wash up.

but Eren wasn’t finished yet, he was shedding the remaining articles of his clothing leaving him naked. your eyes opened feeling the bed dip under the extra weight. before you could protest, Eren had already climbed on top of you, grabbing your legs and having them pushed over your head, “we’re not finished yet.”

this time Eren took the lead, he had ripped off your dress leaving you completely naked and exposed to his eyes. he had you folded over like a pretzel leaving you open for him. your legs were bent so far over your head you could see the top of your pussy and watch as Eren thrusted in and out of your overstimulated hole from above. the pleasure made you want to slither away but Eren’s strong hold kept you still.

“E-eren!” you were losing your mind from the stimulation. “too much! it’s too much!” you cried out. you reached out to push against his rock-hard abdomen. you didn’t want him to stop, not when you were so close to your second orgasm of the night but it was too much. he was being so rough with you. you didn’t think you had it in you after motherhood to be manhandled like this.

“nah, you can take it. you’re a big girl now, dissing me at the club with your friends. be glad I’m even fucking you since I’m such a “bad baby daddy.” Eren mocked you from above. he didn’t even flinch as you tried to push him away. he smiled down at you watching how easily you got fucked out. moans were no longer coming out your mouth, more like strangled sobs and whines that were being forced out after each deep thrust of his. the head of his dick battering your insides and abusing your soft spot left you tremoring underneath him.

“imsorryimsorry,” you babbled out. your mascara and eyeliner were running down your cheeks and your lipstick was smothered but you couldn’t look any prettier to Eren. he enjoyed watching as your tits bounce around. he brought his forest green eyes back up to you watching as you bit your quivering lip.

“how’d that song go again?” Eren sarcastically asked. with the number of times he replayed that video he had the lyrics, beat and rhythm all memorized. “something like this right?” pap! pap! pap! Eren changed the rhythm of his thrusts, the sound of his balls clapping against your ass and the squelching sounds of your pussy mimicked the bow bow bow of the song. he angled each thrust to deliver a particularly harsh hit to your g-spot.

without warning an intense feeling of pleasure erupted in your stomach. “imcuming!” you cried out. you could feel a liquid flow out from your pussy, completely drenching Eren’s dick. he quickly pulled out to watch you squirt, a sight he immensely missed. the translucent liquid gushed out of your hole soaking the sheets as well.

“you said fuck your baby who?” Eren smiled down at your fucked out face. you couldn’t even answer him with the overwhelming pleasure rendering all of your senses useless. your head was thrown back and your face furrowed, coming down from the high of your intense orgasm. “oh aight.”

I think I got a bit carried away🤭

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burrowdarling · 4 days ago

Text

Dress

Summary: Joe begs you to join him at an event, where a dress leads to a confession of feelings. Based off of the song "Dress" by Taylor Swift

Pairings: Joe Burrow x best friend to lover!reader

Warnings: implied smut, pining, best friends to lovers

Note: Hi! I hope you're all doing okay, I know this week has been tough and long. I hope this can bring some kind of joy during a hard time. This is my first time writing based off of a song. I would love to turn this into some kind of mini series or maybe interconnected standalones. Let me know your thoughts or song suggestions, I hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 1.9K

“Pleaseeee come with me, you owe me a favor, remember? It’ll be fun I promise”. Joe begged from his spot on the couch.

Joe had invited you out to one of the team dinner gatherings as his date, insisting that you had to come with him or he would be “too bored to function”. You tried not to place too much weight on the “date” part of the deal, knowing it would be more as friends than anything. He was putting on the whole theatrics, pouting with puppy dog eyes.

“You want me to come to the dinner that you’ve been complaining will be ‘so boring’ so I have to suffer too? I don’t hardly see how that’s comparable to the favor you did for me by taking out my recycling for me that you offered to do” you questioned, knowing full well that it wouldn’t be nearly as bad as he’s been making it out to be.

“Hey, in my defense it was a lot of boxes to carry okay? You can be my source of entertainment, I won’t be able to survive without that” he explained, falling more into the dramatics as he dropped down onto the couch behind him to really solidify his point, exhaling a big sigh as he did so.

“I hardly doubt that Joseph, you’re being so dramatic” you said with your arms folded over your chest, not going to fold to his pleading that easy. Turning away from him as you sat across from him.

“I guess you won’t know unless you come with me then, huh” Joe said with a small pout on his lips, knowing it was the surefire way to win you over. In reality, he didn't have to even try. While Joe was your best friend, you’ve had feelings for him for a while now that have only grown with time the closer you two have gotten. Meeting back at LSU, you had so many memories together that have only made your friendship what it is today.

“C’mon, what else will it take for you to agree to go? I’ll do anything Y/N.”

Your heart rate picked up at his comment, needing to will yourself back to reality that there are so many other mundane things he could do to sweeten the deal for you. Thank god you had your back turned, able to give yourself a second to breathe. In all honesty, you would go just to spend more time with him, it was always fun to make him work for it though.

“Fine, but I won’t have anything to wear so you’re fronting my cost for a new dress” you stated turning yourself back towards him, sticking out your hand to signify the offer.

“You could’ve just asked that from the beginning. Deal” Joe agreed, returning your gesture and shaking on the deal.

_______________________________________________

It was finally the day of the dinner, taking the day to get yourself ready with an everything shower and full skincare routine. You made a day of it, pampering yourself after you had gone out to get the perfect dress. It complimented the color of Joe’s suit perfectly, while accentuating all of your favorite parts of yourself. It wasn’t anything too elaborate, but it made you feel confident and that’s what matters. You may or may not have also thought about Joe when picking it out, what he would think about when he saw you in it. You quickly shook the resurfacing thoughts from your mind as you slipped it on, careful not to mess up your look.

While you were applying the finishing touches to your look, your mind wandered to thoughts about yours and Joe’s friendship. You had met during one of his first classes when he transferred to LSU, asking you for directions to his next class. It happened that you were going the same way, offering to show him and the rest was history. On paper, you both were opposites, but that’s almost why you complimented each other so well. You matched one another's energy and could read the other like a book. It almost felt as if you didn't need to speak the thought out loud at times, able to tell what the other was thinking.

You and Joe had been there for each other all throughout college, being a support system and lifeline in the hard times as well as the biggest cheerleader for the highest highs. Through every breakup, Joe was always there to pick up the pieces he didn’t break, comforting you while giving you the praise he felt you deserved. Another thing you wrote off as him just being your best friend. No one wanted to see their best friend sad, so it was natural to want to cheer them up, right?

You were drawn out of your thoughts to the sound of your front door closing, signaling Joe had arrived.

“Hey Y/N, you ready to go?” he called from your living room, making his way through your apartment.

“Just a minute, I’m finishing up and we can head out” you called back, hearing his footsteps get closer as you spoke.

There was a sudden pause as the sound of Joe approaching got closer, turning to see him stopped in your doorway. He leaned his body up against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest.

“You look absolutely amazing, I love that we have a matching thing going on” Joe said as he looked you up and down, his gaze taking you in.

It all felt like too much, turning your attention back to the mirror in front of you.

When you were leaving your apartment to get into his car, Joe placed a gentle hand around your waist to keep you steady in your heels as you walked across the pavement parking lot. Your skin felt like it was ablaze under his touch, finding yourself craving more of it as his hand dropped to get the door for you.

“Thanks” you mumbled, trying to regain your composure back as the night was just beginning.

_______________________________________________

The night drew on, Joe not letting you far out of his reach as he spoke with his teammates and other guests that were there. It felt as if you had a pull to one another, a sense of palpable tension between you in the air. Joe seemed to be a lot touchier than usual, tending to keep you close when one of his teammates would get a bit too close for what must have been his liking. It all felt like too good to be true, that he must have really wanted you near him

There was only what you could describe as a Joe shaped indentation in your life, making any man incomparable to the standard he set for you without even knowing. So many guys in the past few years have tried to take their shot with you, but you never let any of them get too feeling like they were missing something that you were looking for. Even the ones that did ended up breaking your heart, leaving you feeling a deeper hollow pit than before them.

He was so close to you at the table, you could smell his cologne and feel the heat radiating off of his body that was clad so nicely in his suit, his arm slung protectively over the back of your chair as if he was staking his claim over you. It was taking so much willpower to not just lean over and say the most unspeakable things to him. To finally confess everything you’ve been feeling, wondering if he felt the same or if it would be a waste of time and ruin everything you created together.

In this moment, it felt like just the two were the only ones despite the room being so crowded with other guests. You leaned over, placing a delicate hand on Joe's thigh to test his reaction. You felt his muscles tense beneath your touch, close enough to hear his breath hitch in his throat. All signs were pointing in the right direction.

“Y/N” Joe said, his voice labored and breathy.

The way he says your name, stopping you in your tracks, short circuiting your mind for a moment. That was the kind of power he had over you, the ability to completely send your senses into overdrive without even realizing he was doing so. You tried your best to shut your mind off, taking the opportunity to tell him while you had the courage to do so.

“I don’t want you like a best friend” you spoke, voice keeping composure while trying to keep yourself from backing out.

Joe’s eyes closed as his head subtly dropped back against his chair. A quiet groan coming from his throat online loud enough for your ears only.

You leaned closer to his ear, keeping your body language as natural as possible with everything you’re feeling. Noticing how he was reacting to your words and proximity.

“I only bought this dress so you could take it off” your confidence shifting with a hint of seduction in your voice, sealing your fate to ending your friendship or starting a new chapter.

That seemed like the last straw for his own composure, not being able to contain his own building desire. Joe turned to look towards you, his gaze darkening from your confession, your grip tightening on his thigh as he tried to process the moment.

Without speaking, Joe stood from the table of his teammates and began gathering his things as he silently gestured for you to do the same.

“I think we’re gonna get going guys, Y/N isn’t feeling too well so I’m gonna bring her home” Joe said casually, holding out a hand for you to take.

Everyone said their goodbyes and wished you well. The minute you were out of the vicinity from everyone, Joe heaved you over his shoulder and began to hustle towards the car.

“JOE” you yelped followed by a light chuckle, caught off guard by his actions.

He didn’t reply until he got you to the car, dropping you carefully to your feet and pressed your back against the car door.

He leaned close to your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine as he spoke “you have no idea how long I've wanted you. First, I'm gonna get you home and we're gonna get you out of this dress so I can do all of the things I’ve only ever dreamt of doing to you. Then we can talk about where we want to go from here, but I sure as shit don’t want to go back to just being friends. Does that work for you, sweetheart?”

You didn’t trust your voice in that moment, not knowing if words would come out if you tried and opted for a firm nod.

He backed away from the car, bringing you towards him so he could open the door for you.

“Get in mamas and buckle up, because once we get home, you’re in for a ride” closing the door before you could give him a response.

You were about to be in for a night you didn’t expect, but one that would change everything for the best.

Thank you so much for reading, please send in any requests or comments. I hope you enjoyed!

#joe burrow #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #nfl imagine #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow bengals #bestfriends to lovers #joe burrow lsu #joeyb #joe burrow fan fic

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