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honeypiehotchner · 3 days ago

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The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part fifteen

See! Everything's fine! I swear!

Warnings: probably some incorrect info about the ER/reader being treated at the ER so just don't look too closely at it, the usual angst!, Morgan being his protective self, oh no Hotch is really going to blame himself for this isn't he

You hate hospitals.

Your vision came back just a few minutes into the ambulance ride, and with it your panic died down, simmering into annoyance that you were being driven to the hospital when you’re fine — and there’s an unsub out there to catch.

Hotch was hearing none of it, though, and neither were the paramedics. You were both going to be checked out at the hospital — especially you — and there was nothing you could do about it.

You still find it a little dramatic, though. The lights and sirens of it all.

Hotch is cleared after a quick check up, and given some ibuprofen for the small bit of pain he feels from being jerked around. He might bruise on his shoulder where the seat belt locked up, but he’ll be fine.

You, however, don’t get off the hook so easily.

You’re about to head for an X-ray when Hotch returns from being cleared, knocking timidly on the door to your room in the ER.

You’re still mad. You’re not sure if or when that’ll ever go away.

You know he knows it, too, because he doesn’t say anything as he sits in one of the plastic chairs next to your bed. He doesn’t even try to ask if you’re alright, which you’re fine with. It’s taking everything in you to not continue giving him a piece of your mind like you were doing before you realized the two of you were being followed.

It just makes you so furious because you were so close to telling him on your own. You were closer to being ready to tell him than you had ever been. And he’ll never know it, because instead he went behind your back and then kept it from you.

He just went on like everything was normal, like he hadn’t uncovered a part of your past that you worked so hard to keep buried, a part of your past that you weren’t ready for him to have yet.

A nurse knocks on the door a second later and you practically jump up, never having been so excited for an X-ray in your life. You begrudgingly sit in the wheelchair, pointedly not looking at Hotch as she wheels you out.

“I’ll bring her back in just a few minutes,” the nurse says to Hotch.

He nods. “Thank you.”

You’re whizzed through the halls to the X-ray room, the distance much shorter than you expected. You definitely could’ve walked.

They’re worried about fractured ribs, but you think you’re fine. You weren’t breathing normally because you were panicking, not because your lungs are in any real danger.

The X-ray doesn’t take long and by the time you’re wheeled back to your little room, a familiar face is waiting for you.

“Oh thank god,” you say, not even trying to hide it, falling into Derek’s arms the second you stand up from the wheelchair.

The nurse says they should have the results of your X-ray read in about an hour before she leaves.

“Alright, come on, into bed.” Morgan gently guides you over to the uncomfortable ER bed to set you down, and so he can get a good look at you. “Are you okay? What the hell happened?”

“I’m fine,” you swear. You didn’t even need any stitches, just the little strips to hold some of the cuts closed where the windshield glass got to you on your arms, collarbone, and one spot on your forehead. “Hotch didn’t tell you?”

“He said y’all got in a car chase, but wouldn’t exactly elaborate,” Morgan says. “So?”

You give him the rundown, minus the bit about Hotch finding out about your father. You’re sure you’ll tell Morgan — and the rest of the team — about it soon enough, but not right now.

“Penelope said the car the guy was driving was Carly Henderson’s,” you finish, waiting for it to dawn on Morgan the way it did on you and Hotch.

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” you sigh. “So I have no fucking clue what that means, but if that was our unsub from the last case, then…” You trail off, shaking your head. “How the fuck did he even know we were talking to Richard? Or that we were leaving the prison at that time? There’s so many factors that I just don’t understand.”

“Hey,” Morgan takes your hands in his, squeezing tightly to ground you. “We’re gonna figure it out. We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“Thanks,” you say weakly, though it doesn’t necessarily make you feel any better because getting to the bottom of it likely means confessing about your father. If Hotch doesn’t tell the team first.

Fuck. He wouldn’t do that, right?

You didn’t exactly expect him to go behind your back and read through your sealed file either, though in hindsight maybe you should’ve expected that. You’ll have to tell him that you want to tell the team on your own terms, and if he goes behind your back again, you’ll fucking quit. You mean it.

Derek tells you that he drove here as fast as he could when he heard Hotch’s car was totaled with you two in it. And that the rest of the team is still at the office anxiously awaiting an update.

“Well, I should be cleared to go soon, as long as nothing is broken, I guess,” you shrug.

“Uh, we’ll check with the doctor first,” Morgan gives you a look.

Someone knocks on the door and you hope it’s the doctor returning with your X-ray results, but it’s only Hotch, with two coffees.

Morgan takes one. “Thanks, man.”

Hotch goes to hand the other one to you, but you shake your head. He stays standing, far from the bed, coffee in hand. He doesn’t even take a sip of it.

Morgan glances between the two of you before raising an eyebrow at you. You shake your head. You’re most definitely not getting into it while sitting in the ER.

What remains is one of the most awkward silences you think you’ve ever experienced, but you refuse to be the one to break it.

Morgan tries to ask more questions, but neither of you are any real help considering there’s so much you don’t know. So many unanswered questions.

Eventually, though, the doctor returns with your X-ray results, and says that you’re free to go. Nothing is broken, miraculously, considering your seatbelt was Hotch’s arms around your waist. Your pain is minimal enough that they aren’t worried, though they send you off with a prescription you can fill just in case.

Everyone except Derek isn’t worried, who still insists that you let the nurse wheel you out front while he runs ahead to get the car. Hotch walks next to you, looking about as pleased as you are to be alone with him again.

The nurse asks Hotch random questions about working in the FBI, most of which he gives a noncommittal answer to.

You take the back seat while Hotch takes the passenger side. You want to stretch out if you can and hopefully sleep for the hour and a half drive back to Quantico. You’d rather be asleep during the awkward silence than deal with it head on.

“I’m taking you home,” Derek says just before shutting your door.

You roll your eyes. “I’m fine.”

“I’m glad you are,” Derek says, sliding into the driver’s seat. “But I’m still taking you home.”

You lean your seat back as far as it’ll go and shut your eyes.

You’re well aware that the two profilers sitting ahead of you can tell you’re faking sleep, but you can’t bring yourself to care. There isn’t much for you to eavesdrop on either, because they aren’t discussing anything interesting, or anything you don’t already know.

Hotch is holding information back, though. When Derek asks how it went with Richard Monroe.

“It was fine,” you hear Hotch say. “He wasted our time, like I thought he would.”

“He didn’t say anything…?”

Hotch is quiet. “Not really.”

You expect Derek will be livid to find out Richard did say quite a lot, actually, but that’s not your problem right now.

You end up falling asleep without meaning to, waking only because Morgan is opening your door and unbuckling you.

You grumble in the midst of your sleep-riddled brain, leaning on Derek as he walks you up to your door and gets you inside your apartment.

“Thank you,” you murmur, settling down into your bed with a sleepy smile.

“Anytime,” Derek whispers, pulling the covers over you. “Call me if you need anything, okay? I don’t care what it is, I’ll be here.”

You nod into your pillow, already dozing off again, your body and mind exhausted after the day you’ve had.

+++

Derek has barely gotten back into the driver’s seat before he starts in on Hotch.

“Alright, now that she’s in bed,” Morgan grips the steering wheel, “tell me the truth.”

Hotch shakes his head. He won’t keep up the bullshit any longer, but he also can’t tell Morgan the truth. “It’s not for me to tell.”

“What does that even mean, Hotch?”

“It’s hers to tell,” Hotch repeats. “Don’t be like me and go behind her back to find it. Let her tell you herself.” Hotch pauses, looking out the window instead. “She’ll probably tell you.”

Morgan sighs heavily. “How bad is it?”

“I don’t know yet,” Hotch answers truthfully. “But it doesn’t sound good.”

Morgan sighs again, starting the engine while he takes a moment to think. After a moment of driving, he says, “But she needs our help.”

Hotch nods slowly. “She does.”

“Does she want it?”

“Of course not,” Hotch chuckles. “But I think it’s reached a point where it doesn’t matter what she wants.”

Morgan whips his head toward Hotch. “I do not like the sound of that, man.”

“Me either,” Hotch says quietly, digging out his phone to dial Garcia. He puts it on speaker.

“Sir! Oh my god, are you guys okay? Derek said he was driving you home from the hospital—”

“Relax, babygirl, they’re okay, we just dropped her off at her apartment to get some rest,” Morgan explains. “Hotch and I are headed back to the BAU now.”

“Are you okay to work? You should take time off—”

“Garcia, thank you, but I’m fine,” Hotch interrupts her gently. “Did the police find the unsub?”

“Well, not exactly, sir, see, I was just about to call you because the police found the car.”

“They found the car?” Derek questions.

“Abandoned?” Hotch asks.

“On fire,” Garcia finishes. “About twenty miles away from the wreck. No one was inside, but everything is charred, they can’t get anything from it, no prints, no paraphernalia,” Garcia rambles on. “They only know it’s Carly’s car because the tag was lying next to it.”

“Lying next to it?” Morgan repeats. “He wanted the police to be sure it was Carly’s car.”

“He’s playing a game,” Hotch says, shaking his head. “Garcia, bring up everything you can on Carly Henderson, everything from the last case, everything—” Hotch pauses, thinking of the first one you went on with the BAU. “Everything from Lila’s kidnapping as well, and everything on Richard Monroe, I want every detail there is to know about him.”

“Check, check, check, I’ll get right on it, see you soon, PG out.”

Derek looks over at Hotch, eyebrows raised a little above his sunglasses. “What are you thinking, man?”

“I think they’re all connected,” Hotch says. “And she does, too. She just won’t admit it.”

Morgan is quiet for a moment. “You really wanna do this without her here?”

“She’s never going to forgive me, so I don’t have time to ask for permission,” Hotch says. “But I can’t do nothing—”

“I know, Hotch, believe me, I know,” Morgan says. “What if you’re wrong?”

“Then it’s all a coincidence, and she’ll be mad at me regardless,” Hotch mutters. “I’d rather take the risk if it means keeping her safe.”

Hotch realizes how that sounded the second it comes out of his mouth. Derek did, too, but he at least takes mercy on Hotch and doesn’t say anything about it.

“When she wakes up, she’ll probably want to come in, so we’ll deal with it then,” Hotch finishes. “Until then, we need to find out everything we can. Before she tells us to stop digging.”

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x fem!reader #The Gambit #aaron hotchner angst #angst angst angst

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tonycries · 16 hours ago

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Gojo Satoru is a simp. A menace. A walking god complex wrapped in a designer coat and sunglasses, with infinity-level power and zero self-control when it comes to you.

Not the type to fall often—hell, he barely gives a shit about anything that isn’t sugar or saving the world—but you? One look and his entire brain rewired to say, “Hers. I’m hers.”

The man is down horrendously, and the kicker? He’s fine with it. Loves it, actually.

You walk into the room? His jaw’s on the floor.

You so much as glance his way? His pulse jumps like you just whispered “fuck me” in his ear.

He tries to play it cool, sunglasses down, grin all smug, leaning lazy-like against the wall—

But inside? Feral. Screaming. Brain cells? All on fire, all saying “Mine, mine, mine.”

He’s supposed to be untouchable—the strongest, the cockiest, the man with the answers and the power and the charm. But that first time you looked up and caught him staring like he’d never seen anything so goddamn beautiful—

Boom. Brain gone. Dick hard. Soul yours.

And when he realizes that you showed up with Naoya Zenin, he loses his goddamn mind.

It was a blind date, you’d said. Not serious. Just seeing where it goes.

Gojo hears that and thinks cool, I’ll kill him later.

Naoya’s fake smiling, showing off, trying way too hard, and Gojo sees right through him.

Knows he’s only there to flex. Knows he’s baiting him.

But Satoru’s not about to let some Zenin rat get the best of him. Oh no. He’s gonna make you laugh first.

So he shows up. Loud. Flashy. Sitting way too close.

Arm slung behind your chair, his voice low and smooth by your ear, breath hot against your skin.

“So… this the guy you’re risking your life with? You sure, pretty girl? Because I promise, you could do way better.”

You snort-laugh, can’t even cover it, and he sees stars.

You glance over your shoulder, smirking like sin.

“What, like you?”

He grins—filthy, bright, devastating.

“Exactly like me.”

Your eyes meet, heat between you electric, and for a second, it’s just you two, Naoya forgotten, tension crackling like a live wire between you.

You both know it’s not just flirting anymore.

And Gojo?

He’s fucking gone.

⸻

The Naoya thing dies quick. You didn’t like the vibe is what you tell Gojo and while that’s true…maybe the strongest played more of a role than you’d ever admit.

Even though it’s over, Gojo remembers.

Remembers you being with someone else.

Remembers him touching your lower back.

Remembers having to smile through it.

And when you offhandedly mention a hookup that came after?

“Didn’t count. Wasn’t good.”

Gojo stares at you like you shot him in the chest.

“Not good?”

You shrug, casual.

“Just one of those things. Whatever.”

Whatever.

WHATEVER.

He’s pacing now, running a hand through his hair, sunglasses off, eyes burning.

“Let me get this straight. Some loser got to have you—got to touch you—and didn’t absolutely worship the ground you walk on? Didn’t ruin you for anyone else? Didn’t even try?”

You blink. “I mean—”

He’s in your face, voice low and dangerous, frustrated but not with you—with his newest arch nemesis, the dumbass who got the opportunity of a lifetime and didn’t manage to make you cum ONCE. He hated this man with every fiber of his being.

“You should’ve been trembling. You should’ve been wrecked—blissed out, begging, ruined.”

You laugh—nervous, breathless.

He leans in more, grinning like he wants to ruin you now.

“I’d die to touch you like that. You think I’d let you walk away thinking it was just okay? Nah, baby. I’d make you feel it for days.”

His voice drops, hungry, heated—feral.

“One chance, pretty girl. One night. Let me show you what worship really feels like.”

You stare.

He smirks with that insufferable look in his eye and you end up stuffed to the brim, crying, breathless underneath him as he ruins you for anyone else and finally shows you he’s so much more than just talk. It’s hot, desperate, perfect.

When you’re tangled in his arms, voice hoarse from the screaming, lips swollen, covered in his marks (hand prints and hickeys), still delirious from all the orgasms, giggling from pure joy satisfaction - he thinks he’s going to die a happy man.

When you say, still breathless, “God, I adore you. We’re doing that again. A lot.”

He blinks. Stops breathing.

Adore? We? Again? A lot?

His brain explodes.

Heart gone. Ring finger itching.

He presses a kiss to your shoulder, smiling like a man who just found religion.

“Yeah, baby. A lot. Forever, if you want.”

Because Gojo doesn’t just want another night.

He wants all your mornings. Every damn one.

Oh HELLOOOOOO??? 😈 I need more of this right NEOW nonnie mmm this has me fed. Hehehe love Naoya being used as a lil' plot device...

#anon #tonytalks

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81pastrys · 3 days ago

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Grid Flirt

Part 11 / 13

Summary— Races go by without any praise for the championship contention until Lando decides to talk with her again.

Warnings— more yelling ; angst? ; mentions of panic attacks ; rumors of sleeping around

A/N— Damn she’s really riling up Lando 😭

Series List

After our big fight we didn’t talk for weeks. In those weeks I got top 3 twice in the races held. My team gave me the silent treatment, Max talking to me on the side without them knowing. My dad was the only person I had.

After getting a 1-2 in Mexico, the interviews were dry my team still ignoring me. My dad walked up and gave me all his energy.

“Amazing job today mi flor!” He said. “It’s looking like you’re going to win.” He whispered.

“Thank you papi, I wouldn’t deserve it.” I scoff. “There’s still 4 races..”

“The way you’re winning, you have a chance.” He smiled at me.

After a long and stressful day at the paddock everyone heads back to the hotel. Although Lando hasn’t been talking to me, he’s been civil in the paddock and still shares a connecting door at hotels.

I took a shower, as I always do to clear my mind, but when I went back to my room-Lando was there. He was sitting on my bed, playing on his phone. He looked up at the sound of the door.

“Come to yell at me again?” I remark.

“No, no love.” He said. “I came to congratulate you.”

“Well I don’t deserve it.” I say, shrugging. “There’s no point.”

“You’re in the championship contention, you deserve to be congratulated.” He said. “If we’re going to be teammates, we need to get along.”

“I understand that Lando. The way I’ve been treated by this team makes me want to quit. I don’t care if I win anything anymore.” I say. “I’ll be a good teammate once the team I drive for actually acknowledges me.”

“McLaren will do that, it takes time.” He said. “You haven’t been yourself recently.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” I say sarcastic.

“Okay I don’t need the attitude.”

“Oh sorry, let me put on a fucking smile for you then.” I yell. “There’s no fucking point!”

“Let’s take a minute-“

“No! You don’t get to come in here at anytime and expect me to drop everything and be my happy cheery self when I’m racing for a team that gives no shits for me winning!” I scream at him, tears burning my face mid yell. He stays silent, so I keep going. “Yes I’m not myself, yes I’m winning races, yes I understand I’ve lost my spark! I’m losing everything here, can’t you tell? I have an anxiety attack every cooldown room, I stay in my car fearing the backlash I’ll get in the garage, this sport is a fucking joke!”

“Are you done?” He asked, still calmer than ever.

“No!” I sob exhausted from yelling. “My dad is the only person who cares for my results, he’s also the only person who doesn’t understand I’m slowly killing my self inside. You can only do so much before you feel like giving up and god damnit I’m fucking there Lando. I’m fucking there!” I scream. “I can’t distract myself either, what am I to do? Be a whore and sleep with the grid? Cry myself to sleep?!”

“Sleep with the grid?” He asked confused. “Where did that come from?”

“Don’t act like you haven’t heard.” I say.

“Heard what Diaz?” He crossed his arms.

“Horner claims he doesn’t want me on his team because I slept with the entire grid.” I explain.

“That’s not true.” He said. “You haven’t slept with me.”

“Exactly my point.” I say. “I didn’t, but the entire team hates me and what’s one more thing for them to nitpick at?”

“Rumors will be rumors, have you ever taken time to yourself?”

“How?” I ask. “If you mean to think, I don’t have to try hard. I can just go near my team and silence is a requirement.”

“You need to sit down, take a minute for yourself, and calm yourself down.” He said. “You’re yelling at me out of frustration and depression.”

“That doesn’t help, this is the way I am now.” I say shaking my head. “All I can think about is how I am driving that shit box around a track.”

“You’re supposed to like your job.” He said. “You need to assess what’s going on in a healthy way. Yelling at your future teammate is not a coping method.”

“I know that. You think I want to yell at you?” I ask, distraught. “I hate myself for yelling at you.”

“Don’t hate yourself over it, think about why you’re doing it and target that not me.” He said. “I don’t think you want to yell at me, but it’s the easier thing to do when you’re mad.”

“If these next few races go horribly I won’t make it to McLaren Lando.” I say a lot calmer than before. He realizes I know something.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“If I crash out, it won’t be by tapping the wall.” I say. “It will be a fatal life sentence of a crash.”

“I don’t think-“

“I’m not saying I am. I’m saying if I do it won’t be pretty and it will end the race entirely.”

What did she say?!

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asxgard · 5 hours ago

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Companionship | pt. 3

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

Previous | Next

Summary: A few moments where Michael is finally honest and a few where he is not.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: y’all are so lovely!! I’m so glad that you guys are enjoying this as much as I am lol Thank you for all the likes, comments, and reblogs!! and shoutout to all my new followers, like omg hi💜

I caved and posted to AO3 with a f!oc so I could explore a character more in depth without imposing too much on the reader, so if you’re interested: AO3 Companionship

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: age gap, foul language, death mentioned (a patient), Robby still trying to bottle up his feelings, alcohol

not beta read

that damn smile

The days passed slowly considering how busy they had been. Between projects, homework, the office, and your half-assed chores, you were beat. That Friday morning was uneventful, a foggy start where you ran from your two classes, hoping it wouldn’t rain. You regretted not signing up for online classes, foolishly thinking being present would make you more productive. Maybe it did, but you longed to be home. As selfish as the thought was, you missed the time when you worked from home.

A weird thing happened around lunchtime: you were sitting at you desk with a homemade sandwich, lunchtime ticking away far too quickly. Your phone rang, and half expecting a scam call, you were surprised to find Michael’s name lighting up your screen.

You swallowed a bite of your sandwich before answering, “Hello?”

“Hello, hi.” His warm voice greeted her.

“I’m sorry. Did I forget we had a call right now?”

“No, no.” He suddenly sounded awkward again. “I, uh, I only have a few minutes, but I was hoping we could talk tonight? My shift should end at 7, but they never end on time.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” You said without thinking about it. “Usually you text me.”

A moment of silence passed. “I usually don’t have time to check my phone, and I just wanted to make sure you could talk tonight. You know, make sure you had a decent amount of notice. I’m sorry, I should’ve—”

You ignored the way your stomach flipped, clearing your throat, “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

In his silence, you picked up on the array of beeps that grew louder on his end.

“I’ve gotta go, but I’ll call you tonight? 8:30, maybe?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “That works.”

“Good, uh, okay. Yeah. Talk to you later.”

“Talk to you later.”

—

In a rare lull of the Emergency Department, he had had his phone out before he had even thought about it, stepping into the staff lounge, and clicking on your contact. Usually it was a quick text sent in between patients, but then the phone had been ringing, your voice on the other end.

Michael stared at your contact after the call ended for a long moment, the chaos around him that had been quiet while talking to you slowly becoming louder and louder. Stuffing his phone back into his pocket and ignoring the feeling churning around his stomach, he jumped back into it. Dana had been the one to alert him of a car crash incoming, and he hoped she had not caught him staring at his phone.

Despite the fact that his shifts usually blurred together with how quickly they seemed to go, this one had seemed to slam on the brakes. It was no less busy than normal, but each minute ticked away like an hour, driving him mad.

It was a relief when Jack Abbot walked into the ED to take over. Not wanting to seem too off, Dr. Robby lingered, helping out with a few more critical patients before Jack finally shooed him out.

His watch read 7:39 when he collected his things from behind the charge desk.

Part of him really wanted to open up to you — the anonymity was tempting, but so was your voice — but the other part hated being so vulnerable. Not talking about it had worked out pretty well so far, but it left his chest feeling so tight and made his nights nearly always restless. Or maybe it was the grief. Or the stress. Or the loneliness.

Maybe not so much the loneliness anymore, Michael thought to himself.

Michael walked into his apartment and discarded his backpack by the door, along with his shoes. His entire body sagged, exhaustion running through his system. He realized how hungry he was and knew there was not much in his apartment to eat.

Before he knew it, it was 8:31, making his heart jump. Reaching for his phone, his finger hovered above the call button before he took a deep breath and pressed it.

You answered after two rings, ever reliable, “Hi.”

His lips turned upwards at the sound of you. “Hi.”

“How are you?”

He digested the question. From their handful of calls, it seemed to be your way of judging if he wanted to talk or just listen.

“It wasn’t a bad shift,” passed his lips before he had the chance to think about it. “I’ve had worse.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t feel bad or stressed about it.” You said, not missing a beat.

“I lost a patient.” He told you. “And I don’t want to talk about it.”

You went silent on the other end and guilt ate away his insides. It wasn’t about this patient in particular, or how he lost them, not really. Sure, that weighed on his mind, but nothing compared to Adamson, or the pandemic.

Despite the fact he didn’t want to talk about it, he kept going, “There was nothing we could do. I tried—we—”

“It’s not your fault.”

That struck down his spine, making him sputter. Maybe he was looking for a reason it was, maybe it wasn’t about this patient at all. He had a hard time distinguishing sometimes.

“I’m sure if you could’ve saved them, you would’ve.” You told him, and everything around him was completely silent. “I won’t pretend to understand the weight you carry, or how hard that has to be, but I know you did everything you could. You’re a good man, Michael, and god forbid anything were to happen to me, I know I’d be lucky to have a doctor like you.”

You said it like it was nothing, like the weight of your words did not scoop up the weight on his shoulders and carry it for just a moment. For a single minute, he felt okay. Then, the thoughts crept back in: but you don’t know me.

But maybe I want you to. He shook that thought off just as quickly as it came.

“I’d like to take you to dinner.”

“What?”

What? echoed in his own head, and he quickly started rambling, “You know, maybe talk in person. Might be nice. Only if that’s okay with you? We don’t have to, I—”

The weight of it burned heavily in his mind, churning his stomach. Would she want more money for that? Would she just consider it their weekly talk? Would she—

“That would be nice.”

His racing mind screeched to a halt. “It would?”

“Yeah, did you have a place in mind?”

Fuck! “...no.”

“Well, dealer’s choice.” You told him, your tone light like you were smiling again.

He sat on that for a minute. Did he take you somewhere fancy? Someplace miles away to ensure no one caught you? He still wanted to make sure you stayed far away from his professional life, and he certainly did not want to answer any questions if anyone he knew saw you.

“There’s this Italian place just outside the city. I’ve been meaning to go back.”

“Italian sounds good, actually.”

He smiled.

—

This isn’t a date. This isn’t a date you repeated to yourself over and over again, trying to quiet the anxiety raging through your system. You weren’t all that surprised when he had asked to meet in person, it had been part of the conversation at the cafe. Phone calls had just been easier for him to fit into his schedule up until this point. Or maybe it was easier for him to talk when it wasn’t face-to-face.

According to Google, the Italian restaurant was more of an upscale place, which led to your anxiety on what to wear. Their menu was on the expensive side when you browsed their website. You felt guilt rise in your chest, knowing he was going to be paying.

How the hell did Erin do it? Let those men spoil her with things much more expensive than a nice Italian restaurant with zero feelings of owing them?

Erin’s arrangements are different, you told yourself, sighing deeply through your nose. This is still well in line with what we agreed to. So why on earth were you overthinking it?

Staring into your closet, you weighed your options. There was the knee-length navy blue dress you had worn to the interview for your job, or the pretty black dress that complimented your figure that you wore to graduation, or your most recent splurge: a dress in your favorite color with a flowy skirt. It wasn’t fancy by any stretch, but you certainly would not wear it out for a casual night either.

It seemed like a happy medium between something modest and something you would wear out with her friends.

After fixing your hair, you started your ‘get ready for a night out’ routine. Your mind wandered to what he would wear; would he dress up? Simple shirt and slacks? Would he wear cologne, or—

This isn’t a date, you reminded yourself, why does it matter?

Taking a long look at yourself in the mirror, your eyes took in your appearance. The dress was flattering in all the right ways. You took a breath, smoothing out the dress.

You took your purse from the table by the door, putting on your black heels and light jacket before walking out the door. You left early, stuck between wanting to be early and not wanting to be there first.

The drive did little to soothe your nerves, traffic proving to be as frustrating as usual. You tried to coach yourself through it. This was two acquaintances getting dinner, nothing more, looking to simply talk. Your standards were not high — he would either want to talk or listen, and you had plenty you could still tell him about your week. This was just going to be like a phone call…just in person.

When you pulled up to the venue, you parked your car and sat there — anxiety eating you up. You debated waiting a little longer, eyes flickering to the time: 6:25. Biting your lip, you gathered your purse, tucking your phone away before getting out of the car.

Michael was waiting for you once you reached the lobby, greeting you with a warm smile. You drank in the sight of him in the dim lighting of the restaurant, your cheeks heating. He was wearing brown chinos, a soft grey-blue sweater and a blazer — and your heart nearly stopped just looking at him.

The host walked you both to your table. As you walked past, you took notice of several of the other women, noting you were not overdressed and relief washed through you. Your table was tucked away near a corner of the restaurant, next to a window.

When you were seated, you looked over at Michael across from you and smiled. The lines on his face were softer in this lighting, but he was remarkably handsome regardless, with his lips in a soft smile.

“How—”

“I—”

You both laughed, before Michael gestured for you to start.

“How are you?” You asked, figuring it was as good a place as any to start.

“I’m okay,” he told you, but it looked like he was trying to convince himself more than you. “Uh, how was your day?”

His voice sent shivers down your spine, so used to hearing it on the other end of a phone call. It did so many things in person.

You sipped the ice water in front of you. “I’m well, thank you.”

“How’s that fraud project going?”

You smiled, finding it nice that he remembered some of your ramblings. You had wondered how much he actually listened to vs just needing a voice on the other end of his call.

“It’s going really well, actually. I’ve been really enjoying the course.”

“Good, that’s good.”

The waiter came by to take your drink order, and Michael surprised you by allowing you to order for both of you.

“I’ll have whatever the lady is having.” Michael said, turning his attention back to you.

“Do you like reds?” You asked, deciding wine would be the safest bet, shoving away the thoughts of him not liking wine at all.

He gave a simple nod, and you turned back to the waiter to order a simple pinot noir for each of you. You waited for any sign from him that you had made the wrong choice, but he was sitting happy as could be across from you. You looked down at the menu, weighing your options. You could try to be cheap and order something simple, or forget about the price next to the dishes and allow yourself to be spoiled.

“Tell me about your day.” He said.

That felt as easy as breathing, “I slept in, a rarity for me, but then I got caught up on studying. Between that and some of my reports, that ate up most of my day. My laptop is on the fritz, but as long as it’s plugged in, it’s been fine. Not an impossible work around, but thankfully I didn’t really need to be anywhere with it today. I bring it to classes with me sometimes, but hand-written notes are just as reliable, though they sometimes just look like chicken scratch.” You chuckled.

“Oh, please,” he laughed, “I bet yours are worlds better than mine. There’s a stereotype about doctors' handwriting for a reason.”

“At least I’m the only one who needs to read mine.” Smiling, you continued, “Why’s it so bad anyways? Is legibility an offense to you, or something?”

“The name of the game is speed, unfortunately. I’m so busy I’m lucky to sit down at all. Charting on the computer helps, but those physical files are not going anywhere.” He laughed. “You get used to it.”

You continued like that, jesting and enjoying the company of each other. The waiter came back to take the food order, Michael settling on a pasta ragu — you quickly glanced at the price of his item and found your second choice was just below how expensive his was. It made you feel better when you ordered it.

When dinner came, you settled back into small talk, trading conversation about the cooling temperature and the most recent Penguins game. After taking a sip of wine and placing it back on the table, you let your left hand rest next to the glass. Absentmindedly, you brushed your fingers softly against his, his hand beside his own wine glass. Your mind halted, your eyes taking in your hands touching — his fingers were warm beneath yours.

There was a clang! of his fork hitting his plate and your hand quickly retreated from the tabletop back into your lap with a jolt. Your eyes looked up, catching his flustered face, and anxiety invaded your stomach.

You swallowed, “Did you want to talk about your day? Or work, perhaps?”

He blinked at you, before clearing his throat lightly into his fist and grabbing his fork again. His eyebrows furrowed inward, but he was silent as he slowly chewed his food.

“Yeah,” he started, finally meeting your eyes. “I finally got some pesky chores done around the house that I’ve been putting off.”

With each word he spoke, he sounded like he was avoiding anything with substance. You accepted it regardless, mildly frustrated that he had a hard time opening up — but who were you to demand any more from him?

Taking in your raised eyebrow, he sighed, “I’m not good at this, I’m sorry.”

Blinking several times, “Why are you apologizing? You’ve no need to. I’m enjoying our conversation. I’m just ensuring I don’t talk your ear off.”

His lips flicked up, “Definitely not.”

You laughed, “Good.”

After several more bites between them, Michael sipped his wine, “Actually, I would like to be honest.” A long sigh escaped his nose while he avoided eye contact. “My job is…my job is stressful. I used to think I was good at compartmentalizing, but...” He shook his head, shrugging, “I don’t know. It’s been tough lately.”

You waited, watching him.

“You know, most days, it’s just trying to keep our heads above water. Some days there’s hope…others…” He was shaking his head again, taking a careful sip of his wine. His eyes looked far away, his face scrunched together.

Your thoughts flickered back to the other day when he had mentioned losing a patient and your heart ached. He was struggling to carry the weight of all of it, what possibly could you say to make it better?

You sat like that for several minutes in tense silence. You kept overanalyzing what to say, not wanting to say the wrong thing.

He suffered a small smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s been nice to talk to someone outside of that environment, you know? To talk about anything else, or listen to you talk about your days, even when I don’t say anything.”

A tiny smile graced your face, “I’m glad I can do that for you. I’m glad I haven’t been boring you.”

He exhaled, lips turning upwards, “Not at all. I’ve enjoyed our conversations.”

“I have too.”

You held each other’s gaze for a long moment, before the waiter came by to offer dessert. Your gaze lingered on Michael’s face before you glanced down at the dessert menu. You thought perhaps dessert was too much, so you went to say “I think I’m just too full.” but Michael beat you to it.

“Make it two of whatever she wants.” He was grinning again, mood slightly lifted, watching you with an amused glint to his eye.

You raised an eyebrow at him, but did not question it, quickly deciding on one of the options.

Dessert came with coffee, decaf for him, and lighter conversation. As the night wound down, you found you wished the night had been longer, enjoying his company. You wondered if you would be seeing more of him in person after this. You hoped so.

He paid the bill without allowing you to even glance at it, which after a few seconds of thought, you were thankful for. You knew it was not likely to be an outlandish amount, but you were glad to not have a number in your head to overthink.

Getting up from the table, you walked close together, arms brushing until you made the split second decision to grab hold of his arm. To avoid bumping into any tables or other patrons, of course. He had not been expecting it, by the way he glanced at you, but he didn’t say anything. Once back in the lobby, you loosened your hold, but he did not let you go.

“Let me walk you to your car.”

“Oh, thank you.”

You walked in the direction of her car, anxiety bubbling back up. This was usually the bit where your past dates tried — or succeeded — in kissing you. This isn’t a date this isn’t a date this isn’t a date, echoed loud in your head. Did you hug him? Just say goodbye?

“This is me.” You said awkwardly, stopping in front of your car.

He nodded his head, turning to look at you again.

“I’ll—”

“I—”

You smiled at each other, and you gestured for him to go first.

“This was…nice. Thank you.”

“Thank you, I had a good time.”

He shuffled his feet awkwardly, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Have a good night, Michael.”

“You too.” He said, turning to go, before turning quickly on his feet. “Let me know when you get home safe, yeah?”

Opening your car door, you looked back at him and grinned, “Yeah, I will.”

Offering a final smile before you got into your car, Michael walked in the opposite direction.

The drive home was much better than the drive to the restaurant. You felt warm on the inside, going over the dinner in your head again and again. You smiled the entire drive.

Walking into your apartment, you set your things down before pulling out your phone and pulling up Michael’s contact.

Home safe :)

[ Next ]

want to join the taglist? shoot me a message!

Companionship Taglist: @queenslandlover-93 @clementine111002 @virgomillie @emily-b @kaygilles @lt-jakeseresin @imonmykneessir @kniselle @cannonindeez @gabsgabsvaz

All Dr. Robby content: @cherriready

that damn dinner scene gave me trouble for some reason — sorry it took awhile!

Also?? Hozier’s Too Sweet is so Companionship coded

#michael robinavitch x reader #michael robinavitch #michael robinavitch x you #michael robinavitch x female reader #michael robinavitch/you #michael robinavitch/reader #the pitt #the pitt x reader #companionship series #asxgard writes #dr robby x reader #dr robby

41 notes · View notes

mongoosingisme · 13 hours ago

Text

H'okay, trying this again on the big internet (formatting is hard on a phone)

Responding to this LOVELY 2-part ask from a couple days ago, specifically part 2.

It's a direct continuation of Pepper Problems, so you'll prolly want to read that first (but I mean you do you).

I expect to tie two more requests into this series, so if you're waiting on me I SEE YOU I HEAR YOU I LOVE YOU SO SO SO MUCH YOUR TIME IS COMING.

Okay. Housekeeping over.

Title: (Insert clever title here - the draft is called "Shane Longing Two")

Pairing: Shane x fem!farmer

Word Count: 2929

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only, if you would be so kind

Fic and tags under the cut!

Tags: Fantasized oral sex, actual honest to goodness oral sex, longing, pining, yearning, etc etc etc, also some boob touching

The farmer was a problem.

Shane had given up trying to solve it. There was no solving with her. Only enduring.

He knew how to endure.

She’d gotten comfortable with him over the months. Sliding onto the stool next to his a few times a week. Telling him about her day, whether he asked her about it or not. Trading jokes with Emily. A wave and a cheerful greeting to anyone who passed by.

Still a ray of fucking sunshine, even as the days grew short and dark and the holidays approached.

Shane hated this time of year.

There was the practical (gifts: what do you even get for a six year old? Or your aunt, who’d been looking at you like she once looked at an injured donkey, a look of frustration and pain and anticipated grief?)

There was the existential (another year with no changes, just the spiral of existence crushing in closer, same and same and same yet somehow heavier and heavier and heavier)

There was the farmer, showing off a dress that Emily had made for her.

She stood and twirled. “What do you think?”

She was talking to the writer. The one she talked to Emily about. Mr. “He’s really handsome, isn’t he? With the hair and all? But he��s focused on his writing right now and I’m not looking for anything so we’re just gonna keep it as friends.”

“A vision!” The writer was leaping up, spinning her around. A dervish of velvet and curves gently hugged, toes barely seeming to touch the floor.

If she asked what Shane thought about her dress he’d say nothing. Because what he thought is that he wanted to know what she was wearing underneath, and if what he could uncover would feel as soft on his tongue as the fabric he’d crush and tear to get there.

See? A problem. A big fucking problem that wasn’t getting any better.

“I don’t want to go.” She was sitting down next to him, the lightness gone from her voice. Always so much quieter when he was near her.

“So don’t.” Not much more to say than that.

She sighed. “Yeah, but it’s the holidays and it’s family, y’know?”

Shane didn’t know, but he absolutely was not opening that can of worms, no fucking thank you.

He made a noncommittal sound.

“Oh! I just remembered!” She tapped the back of her hand against his shoulder. She was always touching him like that, all casual and off-hand. Every time it felt like a shock going through him. Kept his mind from clouding, from drifting.

He loved it and he hated it.

“I was gonna ask - could you look in on the chickens for me while I’m gone? Just once or twice? They should be all set up with food and stuff, I just hate to think of the heater going out or something.”

“What do I get out of it?” His question was for show. He’d do whatever she needed in a heartbeat.

She didn’t need to know that, though.

“The satisfaction of a job well done?” She gave him her best “I am sunshine incarnate” smile.

Shane gave her a look of disgust.

It made her laugh.

He liked it when that happened.

He wanted it to happen more.

It was a problem.

“Check in on the house too and I’ll pick up your tab for a couple nights. I don’t trust the boiler - wanna make sure it keeps pumping while I’m gone.”

“Yeah, alright.” He did his best not to sound eager. Like the idea of poking around her house a bit wasn’t appealing. Like he wasn’t actually the creep he knew he was.

“Thank you.” She sounded relieved, gave him one of those real smiles.

Shane didn’t respond. He just took a drink.

“Your dress!” Emily had caught sight of the farmer, was hurrying over to see her.

“My dress! It’s perfect! Thank you!” She was standing again, spinning, light and joyful, the skirt flaring out in a way that let Shane catch a glimpse of thigh.

The farmer always wore pants.

She was less of a problem in pants.

“You look incredible! Shane! Doesn’t she look amazing?”

Fucking Emily. She knew exactly what she was doing.

What was he supposed to say? That the dress was sparking a new obsession? That he was fixated on how loose the skirt was, how easy it would be to ruck up, how anything she was wearing underneath would be nothing, nothing to rip and tear and pull aside? That the velvet could fall around his head, muffling the sounds she’d make, just a little, as he ran his mouth and his tongue and his lips and his fingers over the part of her that had to be the most warm, the most her?

Was that what he was supposed to say?

The farmer gave him that fake grin again. The sunshine one. The one that made her eyes sparkle.

It was an out, he realized.

“Seen better,” he said, and took a drink.

“Ugh!” The farmer put her hands over her heart as though wounded.

“See, he was raised in a barn,” Emily said. “Literally right next to a horse’s ass. Really rubbed off on him.”

“You rubbed off on a horse’s ass?”

Shane shot the farmer a sideways look. She was smirking. Fucking cutie.

“It was a magical time,” Shane droned.

Emily rolled her eyes. “You two deserve each other.”

“Not sure if that’s an insult or a compliment.” The farmer settled back down.

“Insult,” Shane and Emily said together.

“Well, fuck you too, then!” the farmer said cheerfully, and drained her drink.

———————

Shane had been drinking more these days.

It wasn’t a problem.

Everything else was the problem.

The sound Marnie would make when he retched in the morning.

The way work made his shoulder ache.

The way his boss looked at him like he wasn’t quite a full person.

The way Jas would wake up crying some nights, gasping, sobbing, reaching out and clutching and there was no calming her, and it was easier to just let Marnie take care of it, to soothe her like she used to soothe him, to put a pillow over his head and drown in uselessness, to wonder if she really would be worse off without him.

The farmer.

So it was established. The drinking wasn’t the issue.

He was going to skip it that night anyway. Head straight for the farmer’s house after work, check on the chickens, go and inside and… fuck, what was it he was supposed to do?

But it was cold out, and work had been long with all of the holiday merchandise going out, so he’d stopped by the saloon for a drink or six.

It was still cold when he left. Colder, really, snow coming down all hard, like pellets, and he’d forgotten his gloves that day. He wasn’t moving all that fast. The road kept jutting up to make him stumble. It took a while to get to the farm.

He was shivering as he finally ducked into the coop. All was well, the chickens warm and cozy. The heater was running. It felt nice on his chilled cheeks. The coop smelled good, all fresh shavings and warm, healthy hens. He thought about picking one up, letting its heat soak into his hands, but they were sleeping and he didn’t want to disturb them.

The farmer’s door was locked. The key was under the mat like she said, and the house felt warm when he stepped inside. He turned on a lamp by the door.

He’d never been in her house.

It was messier than he expected. Tools strewn on the kitchen counter. A pile of books and mail on an armchair. Clumps of fur in the corners (did she have a pet?). Laundry piled on the back of the couch.

He drifted over.

His hands were a problem.

They were picking up a shirt from the pile of laundry, bringing it to his face. It smelled worn, a faint scent of soap covered by something earthier. He breathed in deep.

His cock twitched.

The room was spinning, just a little.

It wasn’t a problem.

He wondered what else he could find in her laundry pile.

His cock was getting harder.

It was okay. He had infinite space for shame.

He lifted the next garment (leggings, by the look of them) when he heard a rhythmic banging. Boots knocking off snow on the front porch. He dropped the pants, kept his body turned towards the couch as the door opened.

“Fuck!” It was the farmer. He turned part way to look at her. She was covered in snow, velvet dress peeking out from a puffy coat, holding a hand over her heart. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Shane mumbled.

His cock was a problem.

She was a problem.

“Shit, you’re here. I tried to text you, but Yoba forbid I get any fucking service when we’re going through the desert.” She was shaking out her coat, hanging it up. “The thing got cancelled due to the storm, and of course no one tells me until I show up at the fucking venue, and if they think I’m going to hang around after all that they have another fucking thing coming.”

Shane took a deep breath. Tried to will himself to relax.

His stomach was churning, fear and beer and embarrassment and want.

The room felt a little fuzzy around the edges.

“So I’m back, and it is fucking freezing out there.” She was messing with the thermostat. Shane heard the boiler start to purr somewhere below him.

He tried to focus on the sound, and not the way the farmer looked.

Her hair was wet, melting snow dragging it down.

Cheeks ruddy. Eyelashes dark.

Fucking delicious in that dress.

A problem.

“I’m an ice cube, feel my hands!”

“Fuck!” She’d pressed her cold fingertips to the back of his neck.

“You’re so warmmmmmm….” A hint of a moan.

Something in him was fraying.

“Except for my hands.” His voice was only a little ragged. It was playful, right? Giving as good as he got? Turning to face her, pressing his hands onto her neck and shoulders.

Yoba, she was warm there.

She made a sound of mock distress. “Gloves, Shane! Have you ever heard of them?”

The room was swimming now. The farmer was the only thing that felt real.

Her skin was so soft. His hands were moving on their own, fingers spreading, tracing down, brushing over the deep red velvet and the curves beneath.

Pressing.

The fabric was soft, but not as soft as the farmer.

“Shane?” She didn’t sound mad. She didn’t sound scared. She didn’t sound disgusted.

She sounded… curious.

She sounded like a problem that needed to be solved.

Sometimes you could solve a problem with finesse.

But sometimes a grenade was also a solution.

Shane knew where his strengths lay.

He fell to his knees.

“Are you alright?” Her hands were reaching down for him, gentle, worried. His were doing what they’d wanted to do since he’d first laid eyes on that dress: clutching at the skirt, pulling it up, letting his mouth fall forward.

“Fuck,” she gasped as he pressed up between her thighs. “How much did you… fuck.”

He had to press in deeper, to mouth against her. His lips were moving. The stubble that plagued his chin and cheeks caught at the nylon hose she wore. It pulled at his face. It separated him from her.

It was a problem.

So he solved it. The thin fabric parted easily beneath his fingers. Her dress draped over his head, just like he imagined it would, soft and quiet, blocking out the world.

But not the farmer.

She was right there. A cry of surprise as he ripped her tights. Hands in his hair now, gripping tight, and fuck, he knew it, he fucking knew it, knew that she’d know just what to fucking do. He knew she’d grab hard, press him into her, press herself into him, offer herself up to his mouth and his teeth and his tongue and his fingers, fingers pulling, pulling cotton aside to reveal soft, warm, fragrant skin.

So warm. So fucking warm.

So much softer than the velvet.

So pretty.

He ran his tongue down the place she parted. She whimpered, shifted her legs, tried to open up for him.

(what a good fucking girl, he knew it, knew she’d be so fucking good for him when he got his mouth on her…)

He could help with that. Shift forward and hook her leg up over his shoulder (the good one, the one that still felt strong and capable). Steady her as she leaned back against the couch. Pull and pull and pull at the gusset of her panties, the backs of his knuckles brushing against her folds as he did so. She gasped, pulled him in deeper, and she was all soft and wet and warm and welcoming, inviting him to taste, to fucking delve, and so he did. Tongue loose at first, covering as much as he could in case she changed her mind, pushed him away, left him sprawled on the floor, useless and alone.

But no, she was making noises, good noises that said he was supposed to stay right there.

(fuck, the noises she was making, breathy and needy, whines and gasps and little moans, better than he could have imagined, so much fucking better, raw and honest and real and good, almost as good as the way she tasted…)

So right there is where he stayed. Mouth wide, tongue firmer, listening to the sounds she made, cataloging the way she moved. Her hips were shifting, like she was trying to bear down on something, and oh fuck, oh sweetheart, he could absolutely help her with that. Not a problem at all to press his hand up, fingers searching, just one at first, stroking in time with his tongue, gentle and slow until she was whining, bearing down harder, welcoming him in

Yoba, she was wet.

(she wanted it she wanted it fuck fuck fuck she couldn’t hide it it was right fucking there, so wet and soft and yielding, he could push his cock right into her like this, so fucking ready so quick, so needy for him, she needed it like he did…)

Her moans changed as she clenched around him. Lower, longer. She tightened in time with her hands in his hair, clutching harder and loosening as her walls pulsed.

“More,” she gasped, and he didn’t know if she meant fingers or tongue, but did it matter when he could give her both? Press another finger into her, focus in on her clit. Quick flicks, she liked that, if the way she gasped his name was any indication.

(fuck fuck fuck fuck she was saying his name Yoba’s fucking Light he never would have thought his name could sound like that, like lips on his neck, like a tongue down his throat, like a hand stroking his cock…)

His mind was fuzzy, and the temptation to give over to instinct grew overwhelming. He let her hands in his hair guide him. Let the way her hips stuttered show him how fast to go. Let her use him, grind against his tongue, rock against his fingers. Let her drown him, take the breath from him, just movement and soft and wet and tight and gasps and sobs and his name

(his name his name his name…)

And then her legs were shaking, hips taut, hands in his hair so tight it pricked tears in his eyes, and for a moment nothing was wrong, there was nothing dragging him down, only what he could give and what she would take, all perfectly aligned.

An equation balanced.

A problem solved.

“Fuck, Shane!” She said it shaking, drawn out, clenching around him so tight and hot he wondered dimly if she’d branded him.

He worked her through her climax, slowing as she loosened, as her grip became gentle, as she let go of his hair, let her fingers trail down his jaw, his neck.

He didn’t want to move, but something was churning in his stomach.

He didn’t have much space for good in his life.

The farmer wouldn’t fit.

He had to get the fuck out of there.

“Shane?” She sounded uncertain as he slipped out from under her hip.

The room was spinning again.

A hammer had started pounding behind his right eye.

He staggered to his feet.

“Are you okay? You don’t… are you gonna be…?”

He hadn’t even taken his coat off. His boots were still on, heavy and loud as he made for the door.

“Shane!” She said it once more, in a voice he’d never heard before. Choked, a little panicked.

He didn’t look at her.

His face was wet. He didn’t notice it until he stumbled outside. He should wipe it off, probably, but he didn’t. The cold air stung.

He could still taste her.

He could still feel her.

He could still hear her and see her.

He wanted to taste her and feel her and hear her and see her.

It was a problem.

It was a real fucking problem.

The snow swirled.

His head pounded.

The farmer was a problem.

And it was more clear than ever that he absolutely did not have the tools he needed to solve it.

#sdv fanfic #sdv shane #sdv smut #stardew valley fanfic #shane sdv #stardew valley shane #sdv requests

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mimihasmotionsickness · 24 hours ago

Text

Home Again

(unedited)

II.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Y/N was an anxious mess at the moment. When she felt her anxiety kicking in, which happened often, she would just surround herself with her two friends and her family. That wasn't a choice for her now. It was Saturday and she was going to a new college in two days, and she was also in a completely different state from her family and friends. She kept thinking to herself how this change was necessary. She knew she needed this.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

She awkwardly stood outside her new apartment and fidgeted with her car keys. Her roommate was named Sarah Cameron. A girl who seemed to be the complete opposite of Y/N. Y/N had already sent a text to her saying that she arrived, so she didn't want to knock. A couple seconds later, a girl her height opened the door. “Y/N?!” The girl exclaimed with a bright smile on her face.

Y/N couldn't help but smile and giggle. “Hi Sarah!” She responded as she was pulled into a hug.

“I'm so excited you're here! I've been waiting for this all week. Oh my god, how was the drive here? Are you tired? Do you want some water? Come in!”

Y/N followed Sarah into the apartment and responded to her multiple questions. “It was good, but I think the people that drive around here are a little insane. I'm kind of tired, but I did chug 3 Redbulls, and yes some water would be nice.”

Y/N leaned against the counter as she watched Sarah pour her some water. “It feels so unreal that I'm actually back in the Outer Banks,” Y/N said as Sarah handed her a cup.

Sarah gave her a confused look, “Wait are you from here??”

Y/N nodded her head in confirmation. “Yup I moved to Georgia when I was like 13, but I decided to come back here. I hated it there. I tried college down there my freshman year, and it was awful. Never again,” she said as she shivered remembering her first year of college.

All Sarah could think about was her earlier conversation with JJ, Pope, Kie, and John B. This was the same Y/N that they were talking about. She was quickly snapped out of her thoughts when she heard a voice call out to her. “Uh Sarah? You good dude?” Y/N asked as she took another sip of her water.

Sarah nodded her head, “Yup! Just peachy! I just zoned out for a second, but anyways I can't believe that you used to live here. Are you excited to see people you used to know?”

“Hell no. I'm praying they don't remember me. I actually don't think they would. I look a lot different from 13 year old me. I’m not gonna lie to you, I was kind of odd when I was a kid. I had this whole anime phase. It was pretty bad.” Just the thought of it made Y/N want to die. She thought naruto running was the coolest thing ever at the time💔

“It's okay you were cringe, but free I get it. I used to have a bad One Direction phase. I was reading Hobama and Kidnapped by One Direction fics on Wattpad,” Sarah admitted as she hung her head in shame.

Y/N bursted out in laughter. “Holy shit dude we’re basically the same person, but in different fonts.”

Sarah joined in on laughing, but then she remembered the party. “Oh Y/N! Do you want to come to a frat party with me and my friends tonight?” Sarah asked.

“Hell no,” Y/N immediately said, “Wait, that was kinda harsh, my bad. Don't get me wrong I want to meet your friends and hang with y'all, but I've never really been a party person. Plus I still need to unpack, and then sleep. I've been up since 4 AM.”

Sarah pouted, but she didn't protest. “It's okay I'll drag you to one with me eventually <3 Do you want help with grabbing your things from your car?”

“How did you do the heart thing? Actually, never mind! Help would be nice yes please,” Y/N said as she grabbed her car keys. The two headed out to grab all of the things Y/N brought with her from Georgia.

An excruciating painfully long hour later, both of the girls decided that they were pooped and took a nap in their rooms. Y/N knocked tf out as soon as she put her bedsheets on the bed. When she woke up again it was already 10 PM, and the she checked her texts.

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Twt time😈

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NOTES: CHAPTERS TWO YAY!!! i literally have class in 6 hours i need to go sleep bye

@bloodofadoll @amterasuu

#pope heyward x you #pope heyward x reader #pope heyward #obx x reader #obx fic #obx #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks x reader

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respectfulrebel · 3 days ago

Text

The moment I saw the title and the song choice I knew this would hurt 😭

It started so fun and silly and then…

"Yeah, last time we saw him he was with a group of freshmen telling them, and I quote "The best secret places to jerk off in this house where no one can catch you."

Jesus loool I feel like that’s something real Noah could have said in his twitch days lol

"Give me your car keys." you reached out your hand, but instead of doing what you said, he high fived your palm with his.

So silly 😂😂 I love him

"What?" you asked.

"You're my friend."

"I am."

"And I like you."

"I like you too Noah, you're my friend too."

🥺🥺🥺🥺 he is so soft when he’s drunk

Every time he looked more drunk and every time he walked through the main room he made silly faces at you.

I can just imagine him wobbling around sticking his tongue out to her or crossing his eyes 🥺😭 such a goof

The group around him hyped him up and he started to lift his t-shirt while doing something that should've probably been the dancing part.

Oh, Noah… 😂 he would regret this in the morning

"Be gentle. I'm always gentle with you." he said, offended by the way you were handling his body.

Ohh stooooop 😭😭😭

"Kids can't drink alcohol Ella."

"Yeah, maybe you shouldn't too."

"That's rude."

I love their banter 🥺

"It's getting close to Christmas." was his answer that cut you off.

Ohh boy, here we go… *getting my tissues ready*

I always saw it on my grandmother's face how sorry she felt for me. Poor kid without parents. I don't blame them, they did their best. It wasn't them who ruined my life." he scoffed and you saw his father's face when you closed your eyes.

Oh my god 😭😭😭 baby nooo 😭😭😭

"When they died and it was just me, I felt happy for the fucking first time on Christmas. They didn't have to set up everything for me anymore and spend all their money on gifts for me. I felt free." his voice cracked at the end and you felt a teardrop on your skin where your t-shirt has ridden up.

WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS???? 😭😭😭 that broke me what the fuck 😭😭😭😭

Her last words before she died were "I'm sorry Noah, I'm sorry we couldn't give you a better life." and I fucking hate that. It wasn't her who should've given me a better life. It wasn't her fault that they didn't want me."

Sttoooooooooopp 😭😭😭😭😭

"But I'm not okay Ella, I'm fucking broken. You shouldn't be here, you should be somewhere else with someone else who can give you more than me."

Poor baby 😭😭😭😭 I’m so glad he has Ella to care for him and trust in him, because she won’t let him down like his parents did 😭😭 right????? Right????????? 😭😭😭😭

"I was thinking a million thoughts a second, but I knew that if the test would be positive and you'd want to keep it that l'd do it with you. I'd never leave my kid."

He’s nothing like this parents, and just the fact that he is afraid of being like them means he won’t ever be, just like Ella said 😭😭😭

His body was shaking from sobbing so hard and you did everything you could to calm him down. You kept rubbing his back and whispering sweet reassurances in his ear, but he wasn't there with you.

He’s been through so much, he doesn’t deserve all this pain, why are you doing this to himmm 😭😭😭

"You have me now Noah, you'll always have me okay? You're not alone." you lifted his head from your chest, his red and tired eyes looking at you with lots of unspoken words.

He’s not alone 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I love them so much 😭😭😭

broken, you know that I've always been

Pairing: frat boy Noah x female reader

reader has a name (Ella Thompson, but the story is written in 'your' POV)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI / alcohol consumption / drunk male character / mentions of death and thinking of lost family members / child abandonment / let me know if there's anything else

Words: 4k

Author's note: so I'm just gonna leave this here and sleep off my hangover, hope you won't hate me much when I come back haha🥹

frat boy Noah masterlist

‼️ This story is a work of fiction, the plot and characters entirely made up. The appearance and name of the main male character are inspired by Noah Sebastian Davis, but the storyline bears no connection to the real person. The character's history, personality, and actions are entirely fictional and do not reflect the life or experiences of the real person.

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“What if I get wasted tonight”

Noah’s message lit up your phone. You were currently in your biology class, not really paying attention.

“Are you asking me for permission or what?”

“Do you see a question mark in that message?”

“Then why are you telling me?”

“Just making sure you won’t get mad”

“Why tf would I get mad Noah?”

“Because that means no sex tonight”

“Worst day of my life then”

“Exactly”

“Shut up”

“But I do need something from you”

“Spill”

“I’m staying at the frat house after school, but I drove here. Will you drive me home tonight?”

“Are you seriously letting me drive your stupid expensive car because you wanna get shit faced?”

“Yep”

“Amazing, that’s better than sex. Looking forward to being your chauffeur tonight.”

What you didn’t know was that those were Noah’s last sober words for today.

—

Knowing that you’re not going to drink any alcohol tonight and will end up as Noah’s babysitter, you went to the library after your last class and continued with your school work.

Before you even knew it, it was 6PM and you had missed calls and texts from the group chat.

Molly: Ella where are you? You’re gonna be late

Clara: We’re having pre drinks, come home asap or there won’t be any left for you

Molly: We’re leaving in an hour!!

Molly’s last message was sent an hour and half ago, meaning they’re already at the frat house. You sent them a quick “I’ll come later.” message and started packing your things.

Back at your dorm you considered not going out tonight and just wait until a drunk Noah calls you to pick him up. You were not in a mood for a party tonight, let alone sober one.

Molly: Your boy is getting wild tonight!

Molly: Get your ass over here or we’re gonna come for you

You rolled your eyes at Molly’s messages. The worst part was that they would really come back just to drag you to the house full of people.

You pulled the first clothes out of your wardrobe, 100% sure that if there would be a contest for the most boring outfit you’d win tonight.

But grey loose jeans, basic black t-shirt and a hoodie was your choice tonight.

As you dragged yourself over to the frat house, as slowly as you could, your phone buzzed again in your pocket and you were ready to throw it away if it was another message from Molly. But it wasn’t.

Noah: ae you conihg togt.,?

You stopped walking and focused on the words on your display. He was wasted and it wasn’t even 10PM.

“I’m on my way.” you quickly replied and continued walking in the direction of your today’s nightmare.

As you were closer and closer, you could hear the loud music and soon enough you also saw people in front of the house with red plastic cups in a few different groups.

You avoided all of them, making your way straight for the main door.

The inside of the house was even louder and packed with people. You scanned the room without a care if you’re going to find Noah or your friends first.

“Here you are!” Clara hugged you from behind and yelled in your ear.

“What took you so long?” Molly asked and then eyed your outfit, “And what the hell are you wearing?”

“You look very nice today too Molly.” you shot her a sarcastic smile, “I’m not drinking tonight and I’m not even in a mood to be here. I promised Noah that I’m gonna drive him to his place in his car so he can drink tonight.”

“Cute.” Molly and her annoying comments.

“Shut up. Have you seen him?” you continued searching for him behind your friends.

“Yeah, last time we saw him he was with a group of freshmen telling them, and I quote “The best secret places to jerk off in this house where no one can catch you.””

“Oh god.” you rolled your eyes. Something like that was so out of character for sober Noah. “I’m gonna try to find him and then I’ll come back.”

You didn’t wait for their answer and started walking through every room on the ground floor, but with no luck.

You tried the first floor and also the backyard, but there was no sight of Noah. Well, if he was hiding in any of his secret spots there’s no way you’ll find him.

You went to the last place you could think of, your place.

No sight of Noah again.

You sat on one of the swings and took out your phone. You started typing a message for Noah that said “Our place right now.”, keeping it short and simple so his drunk eyes could read it.

You didn’t expect any answer, so you were surprised he managed to send you “Pk” back, hoping it was meant to be Ok and not anything else.

After a few more minutes of swinging and scrolling through your phone you heard heavy and unsteady steps coming towards you.

“Hi!” a hiccup, “I was scared that you, you wouldn’t come.” he stopped in front of you, but only for a second before the spinning inside his head sent him to the right.

“My god Noah sit down.” you guided him to an old bench and watched him fall on his ass.

“You’re the best!” he pointed at you and you heard another hiccup.

“Give me your car keys.” you reached out your hand, but instead of doing what you said, he high fived your palm with his. “Noah, give me your car keys before you lose them.” you were trying to be reasonable with him, but he wasn’t getting it.

“You have to find them.” he said with a smirk.

“Did you lose them already?” you asked in shock, the idea of you and him trying to find them sending you into a coma.

“No, no, no, no.” he leaned back against the back of the bench and with a smirk on his face said, “I have them on me, but if you want them, you have to find them.”

“I’m not trying to flirt with you Noah, give me the keys.”

“Nop.”

“Noah.”

“Mhmhm.” he nodded his head no and your patience started running out.

“Okay.” your hands went for his front pockets, touching them with your palm over the fabric. You only felt his phone there. “Stand up.”

“Bossy.” he chuckled to himself, but followed your orders.

You did the same with his back pockets and found his wallet and the car keys. When you were taking them out of the stuffed pocket you heard him say “I like it when you touch my ass.”

“Oh I’m so telling you that tomorrow morning.” you let out a laugh for the first time tonight.

You used your pointer finger and poked his chest and he was back on his ass. He was looking up at you with a big smile.

“What?” you asked.

“You’re my friend.”

“I am.”

“And I like you.”

“I like you too Noah, you’re my friend too.”

Something in his face changed, the smile was still there, but his eyes turned sad.

He was thankful to have you in his life, but it reminded him that not everyone always cared about him like you do.

“Are you okay?” you asked him when he didn’t speak up again.

“Mhm.”

“That’s not very convincing.” you whispered and reached out to push his hair out of his face. “Why are you drinking like that tonight?”

“I felt like it.” another hiccup. His answer was quick and something in the tone of his voice told you that you’re not going to get more out of him.

“Okay, but be careful and don’t do anything stupid okay?” you pulled him up from the bench by his hands and he kept holding them to stabilize himself.

“Yes captain.” he booped your nose and together you started walking towards the door that led you back inside.

You sent Noah off to his friends and went to find yours too.

Thankfully that was easy, they were where you left them before you went to find Noah.

You didn’t like being the sober one in a house full of drunk people. It made you feel uncomfortable and vulnerable.

You and the girls found a quiet corner and after a few more comments from Molly about you not drinking tonight you fell into a nice conversation.

You saw Noah a few times throughout the night, but he was mostly outside or with his friends in Matt’s room. Every time he looked more drunk and every time he walked through the main room he made silly faces at you.

You were thinking you’re never going to leave, because despite the amount of alcohol he had in his system, Noah didn’t look like he was leaving any time soon.

You didn’t even know that he was back downstairs since the last time you saw him go to Matt’s room with more beers, but suddenly he was on the kitchen table with a group of people around him.

They were chanting “Noah! Noah!” and something told you that you should get over there to find out what was happening.

“What is he doing?” you asked Nick when you reached the group.

“He picked a dare.”

“Dare to do what?”

“Do a shirtless dance on a table.” Nick said it as if it was an obvious fact and continued to watch Noah’s show.

You didn’t know if you should take a video so you could use it against him later or get him down before he stumbles over his own feet and falls down.

The group around him hyped him up and he started to lift his t-shirt while doing something that should've probably been the dancing part.

He threw his t-shirt to his friends and his toned and tattooed chest was on full display for everyone.

You looked around you and saw girls from different years, looking at him with hungry eyes. They shouldn’t look at him like that, they shouldn’t even see him like that.

Your eyes found Noah again, his hips were now moving in a weird way and he was singing the song that he chose for his performance.

He must be pretty drunk, because he wouldn’t do this even after a few beers on a normal occasion.

When you saw him catch his balance at the last minute before he almost fell from the table, you pushed your way through the group of people and yelled “Show's over!”

You got to the table and saw Noah jump on his friends. They caught him, but you stopped breathing for a second.

“We’re leaving.” you took his t-shirt from Matt’s hands and tried to put it back on Noah.

“I don’t wanna yet.” he couldn’t stand still, making it harder for you to put his t-shirt over his head.

“Noah, you’re ready to go to bed.” it was as if after you said those words a wave of tiredness hit him.

His head was hanging low and his eyes suddenly looked heavy. He stopped moving around and you finally slid the black fabric over his upper body, ending the show for those girls that were still watching him.

He said goodbye to his friends as if he’d never see them again. You just waved at Molly and Clara, because once you left the kitchen Noah’s arm was around your shoulders and he needed your assistance.

“Come on, we’re almost there.” you had your arm around his torso, trying to hold as much of his weight as you could so he wouldn’t fall on the ground.

“My car!” he yelled when he saw his black Range Rover parked in the same spot since this morning.

“Finally.” you mumbled to yourself.

You opened the passenger door and literally threw him inside. His body was folded in a weird angle and you had to help him with the seatbelt.

“Be gentle. I’m always gentle with you.” he said, offended by the way you were handling his body. He was right though, he was always gentle with you, but sadly you couldn’t carry his drunk body as he did with you when you were too drunk to walk.

“Sorry.” you brushed his hair out of his face and traced your fingers on his cheek as an apology.

You quickly sat behind the driving wheel and started the car.

“I trust you to get my baby home in one piece.” and a hiccup followed. His head was resting on the backrest and his eyes were closed.

“That makes one of us.” you said, suddenly not feeling very confident in your driving skills.

You managed to get out of the parking lot and follow the GPS you had on.

“Can we play Mario Kart when we get home?” Noah asked.

“I think we should go to bed.”

“That’s boring.”

“We can play tomorrow.”

“But I want to play when we get home.” he said with the attitude of a little kid.

“I didn’t know alcohol brings out your inner child.”

“Kids can’t drink alcohol Ella.”

“Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t too.”

“That’s rude.”

He cut your next answer off with the radio. He turned the volume to a maximum and started dancing in his seat. You reached to turn it down a little before saying “I also didn’t know you love dancing this much.”

“I’m a dancer, can’t you see the moves?”

“Oh my god.” you said with a laugh. Never did you expect to see Noah like this.

—

“This drive was actually like Mario Kart in real life.” Noah stated when you helped him out of the car.

“Shut up, we got home in one piece.” you locked the car and made your way inside the building.

“Keys?” you asked Noah when you reached his apartment.

“You know where they are.” he winked at you and you rolled your eyes at him.

Your hands made their way to his back pockets again, looking for his home keys.

“You’re touching my ass again.” he laughed at his own joke.

—

You finally made it inside, not even bothering to take Noah’s shoes off you took him to his bedroom where he fell into his bed without your help.

You used it as a chance to take the shoes off, one by one when he said “Cuddles?”

He was laying on his front, but his face was sideways, kinda looking at you over his shoulder with a little pout.

“Give me a minute yeah?”

“I want cuddles.”

You threw his shoes on the bedroom floor instead of bringing them to the front door and crawled next to him on the bed.

“Come here you drunk mess.” you said and laid on your back so Noah could lay his head on your chest.

Silence took over the room and you knew Noah would soon fall asleep, so you used the chance to ask him again.

“Do you want to talk about why you got drunk tonight?”

He remained silent, but his movements and breathing got him away that he was still up and heard you.

“You don’t have to, but you never do this so I wa-”

“It's getting close to Christmas.” was his answer that cut you off.

“Yeah, and?” you asked gently.

“It always makes me think about my family.” his words were muffled by your clothes, but you heard him.

“Of memories of how you used to celebrate Christmas?” you asked.

“No. Memories of how fucked up my childhood was.” before you could say anything he continued. “After my parents left me with my grandparents my father came back a few times to celebrate it with us. It always ended with a loud argument and me hiding in my room from all the chaos. When he stopped coming back it was just the three of us. It was calm, but it was fake as fuck. I always saw it on my grandmother’s face how sorry she felt for me. Poor kid without parents. I don’t blame them, they did their best. It wasn’t them who ruined my life.” he scoffed and you saw his father's face when you closed your eyes.

You played with his hair, something to calm him down and to give you something to focus on from stopping you from crying.

“When they died and it was just me, I felt happy for the fucking first time on Christmas. They didn’t have to set up everything for me anymore and spend all their money on gifts for me. I felt free.” his voice cracked at the end and you felt a teardrop on your skin where your t-shirt has ridden up.

“Noah-” you wanted to comfort him, but he didn’t let you.

“Don’t you dare say you’re fucking sorry for me Ella.” so you stayed silent. It was like words were pouring from him for the first time since you met him.

“You know what I always ask myself? Why did it have to be me? What did I do that they didn’t want me? I was barely a three years old when they fucking left me.” a sob left Noah’s throat and his hands gripped the fabric of your t-shirt.

“I remember asking my grandmother when they’ll come back for me, when will I go back home, but they never came back for me.” he took a deep breath before saying more, “And all of those nights I heard my grandmother cry for me. Her last words before she died were “I’m sorry Noah, I’m sorry we couldn’t give you a better life.” and I fucking hate that. It wasn’t her who should’ve given me a better life. It wasn’t her fault that they didn’t want me.”

And he was right. The only people that should be blamed for all of his trauma were his parents. Could you even call them that?

“I don’t know how to talk about this when I’m sober and I just needed to get it out tonight, so I got drunk. I’m sorry I dragged you in it.”

“Don’t say that, I’m glad you wanted me to be the one that takes care of you. I like doing that. I like knowing you’re okay.” you tried to reassure him with every word you spoke.

“But I’m not okay Ella, I’m fucking broken. You shouldn’t be here, you should be somewhere else with someone else who can give you more than me.”

“I’m not gonna let you say that, there’s not a place I’d rather be than here right now with you. Okay?” you felt your own tears running down your cheeks. You didn’t expect this night to end like this. This was the most intimate moment you two shared so far and you wanted Noah to know that he can talk to you about this anytime, even when he’s sober.

Silence took over the darkened room until Noah spoke up again.

“Remember when you did the pregnancy test?” you just hummed in a response, “I was thinking a million thoughts a second, but I knew that if the test would be positive and you’d want to keep it that I’d do it with you. I’d never leave my kid.” he whispered the last part and you had to hold your own sobs. You closed your eyes and let the tears run down your cheeks.

You knew he wasn’t saying that he wants kids with you, or that he loves you or that he wasn’t relieved when the test was negative, he’s just saying that he knows he wants to be better than his parents.

“Noah, you’re nothing like your parents okay? Saying something like this makes you a much better person than they are. You’ve been through a lot, but you made something of yourself. You turned all the bad things into good things. Look at you, having your own apartment, a fucking car and going to college. You’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met and I know you don’t want to hear it, but it’s true.” you thought if saying the next thing wasn’t out of line, but you felt like he needed to hear it. “I’m sure your grandparents would be proud of you.”

Noah didn’t give you an answer, he just hid his face in your skin and cried. You cried with him.

His body was shaking from sobbing so hard and you did everything you could to calm him down. You kept rubbing his back and whispering sweet reassurances in his ear, but he wasn’t there with you.

His mind was somewhere else, thinking about all the good times he got to live with his grandparents.

How he helped his grandmother with her garden, laughing at her enormous joy from new plants he got her. He continued with bringing her new plant or flower each time he went to visit their grave, imagining her happy face and how she would hug him and kiss his cheek.

Or when his grandfather took him to see local races. How he was passionate about the cars and pilots who were driving them. How he would love Noah’s car and want to drive it himself. How Noah would buy him his own dream car so he wouldn’t have to drive the old blue small car they had anymore. How he never stepped a foot to another race after he died.

How they attended every single one of his school events even though he told them they didn’t have to. When they got old it was hard for them, but they still came. Every time.

How he had to sell their old house, because he couldn’t even look at it without breaking down. He thought about the box full of things that he kept to remind him of them and how he hasn’t touched it for years. Scared of his own reaction.

They gave him everything they had and made up the mess his parents made. And they didn’t have to. And he felt like he didn’t show them enough how grateful he was for everything and how much they meant to him.

His body was soon tired from the crying and his sobs calmed down. He was starting to fall asleep.

“You have me now Noah, you’ll always have me okay? You’re not alone.” you lifted his head from your chest, his red and tired eyes looking at you with lots of unspoken words.

“Thank you.” he managed to say and you brought him in for a small forehead kiss.

You helped him out of his clothes, leaving him in his white boxers and threw the blanket over his body.

He laid on his side and you sat next to him.

His hand found yours, the grip he had on you begging you to not leave him.

You couldn’t find a single reason why someone would leave Noah behind and didn’t fight for him. How could someone do this to a little child that wanted nothing more than a gentle touch from his parents.

You laid down next to him and watched him fall asleep.

There were no more tears and his breath became steady.

You pushed his brown locks out of his face and then traced his facial features with your fingers.

You ran them over his eyebrows to make the frown go away.

You traced the shape of his nose until you reached his lips. They were slightly open and warm to touch.

His cheeks were still a light shade of pink and you gently caressed his skin there.

His chest was going up and down and the white blanket had slid down to his waist.

You let your fingers slide down to his chest, tracing some of his tattoos. Tracing each word of the desolate tattoo. He was not a desolate. He had you and his friends. They were always joking with each other and making fun of everything, but you know they have his back. He’s not alone in this life anymore.

You left your hand where his heart is, feeling the steady beating of his heart lull you to sleep.

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#well…#you did a good job at making me sad #🥲#i really loved this though #BUT DONT DO IT AGAIN PLEASE

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tabithatwo · 2 years ago

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(x)

(this is a pls stop blaming juliette lewis for nat’s arc and death post <3)

#regardless of whether you loved the death or hated it YOU CAN STOP BLAMING JULIETTE NOW OKAY??#like even people who liked it overall but had qualms the party line is well I’m sure it was juliette leaving early so that’s why xyz #no! it was not! this was the plan <3 and idc if you hate love or nothing it I just think like making these excuses for things is weird #like do I get why some people might have assumed juliette might have left early sure yes but also idk like PEOPLE ARE FALLIBLE #showrunners are fallible! and that’s OKAY! they’re PEOPLE! and you CAN love every choice they make but jumping through hoops #to find *reasons* for the things you didn’t like is so interesting to me cause like…it’s okay!!! they can do a little thing you didn’t love!#you can even SAY you didn’t love it if you want and that’s okay too! or not! but stop blaming juliette lewis for whatever you didn’t like #also the rest of the article is an interesting read!#now I’ll do conjecture and tell you it is CONJECTURE for sure okay disclaimer #but after reading this article I think it is even possible Juliette’s anger with nats arc was partially BECAUSE she knew her death was soon #like maybe! who knows! not us! but I don’t even know how I became this hardcore juliette defender bc honestly I dosagree w her on a lot lol #but like I’ve seen people say oh she’s difficult and she made them do this and she’s a problem and she always does this #HELLO??? stop blaming women for shit baselessly??#(if you casually wondered if maybe she wanted to leave and didn’t say it like it was fact or use it to pin blame on her for stuff…#…this isn’t directed at you)#but some people got VICIOUS #juliette lewis #natalie scatorccio #yellowjackets

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coldpintglass · 2 months ago

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Is this a safe space to be hater? Can I be a hater this fine Tuesday afternoon? Will you, my brethren, my nearest and dearest, join me in my hating?

#old school friend keeps posting their travels in Bali and fuck me does it get boring after a while #and that’s partially jealously because it looks wonderful and partially me thinking how BORING and tacky it is #are you enjoying your holiday or just constantly posting it babe? Jesus wept #anyway I’m unfollowing this account as I realised I have her twin and her more personal account somewhere so fuck it #blocking and unfollowing is a powerful tool xxx #also flatmate who is very sweet and harmless is pissing me off to no end #very loud talking and also a job bore like fucking hell #I’ve heard the same shit for 4 years nearly!!!! babe!!! quit!!!! you have excellent skills in other places!!!!!#OH WAIT MORE HATING lmao I’ve more than I realised #office friend nearly broke me coffee machine at the weekend and I know it’s the risk I have but stupid yank could’ve asked #anyway seems okay the machine now but damn how stupid to not even ask or check on Google?#fair enough not knowing how to do it but Jesus wept why not ask or search up?#anyway ANYWAY OKAY THATS IT #good grief #🍺❄️

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firstprinced · 7 months ago

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my two cents on the taylor/vienna topic that no one asked for and if you come to hate at this then idc

the first half of taylor’s statement about vienna was very good, and then it was very bad. no one needed her scolding and she could have done much more without putting anyone in danger by talking about things in detail, and i know it’s obviously very hard on her but it lacked empathy for the fans and sounded like a scolding mother.

and to people who just answer every criticism with “she doesn’t owe you anything” um she kinda does - she doesn’t owe anyone her personal life but she does owe something for the, im guessing about 200 000 (?) people who bought the tickets who are also struggling with both waiting over a year for this, losing the money they spent on travelling AND the reality of that they could have been killed if this would not have been found out. i feel like literally a cryptic post would have been enough to create a feeling of “we’re in this together” and i’m just scratching my head at this all.

and the people being all SEE I TOLD YOU SO are so.. my god. i don’t wanna go down to your level but i’m tempted. this is handled so badly by the pr team it’s ridiculous. all the money in the world and yet

#and i’m not like oh i hate her now i just think it’s okay to criticise how this was handled #she could have done so much more to create a feeling that she sees you all #i mean it’s obviously so intense for so many people #and she has a literal team of people who could have done something to make the vienna people feel seen and understood #especially after they sang on the streets and made something so beautiful out of a horrible and scary situation #the companies in vienna did more to create that sense of unity TBH #okay i’m done now #tayor swift #vienna eras tour

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legendofthe3divas · 2 years ago

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What's your opinion on Jesy Nelson?

OMG okay so i’ve done this a couple times already but…

as much as she was a BIG part of little mix and they wouldn’t have made it that far without her. and i appreciate her for being in the band.

and i completely understand her for leaving due to mental health (if that was the reason we don’t know… there’s some speculation the girls had a fall out and it was one of the other girls who posted on insta she was leaving but i’m not gonna get involved)

BUT

after the full on black fishing, racism and bullying (after being bullied herself) towards leighanne, i do not and will not support her again. what she did was really and totally fucked up and really disrespectful towards everyone of colour.

i will do anything for leighanne she’s my little baby and been through so much so she deserves so much more and i will always root for her <3

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dashiellqvverty · 9 months ago

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everyone always wants to talk about jenny nicholsons video essays and i’m like does ANYONE want to talk about the art of the mattress aka the sleep song. bc it plays in my head every time i see anything about her.

#sleep sleep sleep time to go to sleep now… it is night and i need to sleep while it is dark….#also of course it’ll be okay from the wedding episode <3 #anyway she blocks me on twitter also. not as scandalous as it seems i just made a vague tweet abt friendship is witchcraft #and presumably got auto blocked #i wasn’t even calling her out either i think i was just like. reflecting on how the song from it was trending on tiktok #it’s an understandable reason to block people just. not wanting to engage with that part of her history i get that #this was also before her briny video so she hadn’t spoken on it in a long time #brony*#i genuinely like that video a LOT i think she is able to offer a really unique perspective on a lot of brony fandom culture #not just as a big name creator but as a long time fan of older mlp gens #and ofc what she had to say about the use of the g slur in fiw was like. i mean i believe her.#that she and the cocreator had no idea it was a slur and dropped that aspect when they realized it was.#like i didn’t know for a long time either. it’s not my place to be like ‘and that means it’s fine and not a problem’#and i don’t think it IS fine. but certainly everything she said about her intentions seems like. true and honest.#anyway brony stuff aside i hate her for the way she’s spoken about john boyega. no apologies for THAT huh!!!!#there are some things out there that ppl attribute to her that are fully fake/edited but #ppl will also say ‘oh she didn’t say anything bad about him that was fake’ no she very much did #but i’ve followed her on youtube since she was still actively making fiw like she had a bit with a pony oc that she did for a while #i remember the first star wars video when i was like oh she Is A Reylo #which on its own is like. ew but i’m still interested in her stuff #but you know. she crossed a line i think #and i do still find her stuff INTERESTING #and i am genuinely still fond of fiw though a lot of that is nostalgia #but like she has a lot of interesting stuff to say about mlp and obviously as a theme park fan she’s inescapable #and it pisses me off that she’s friends with other creators i DO like but also they know her as a person and i don’t #sorry this was gonna be a short post i just can’t talk about her a normal amount #i have to explain every thought i have about her #anyway i haven’t watched the star wars hotel vid but i probably will eventually #in like an incognito tab #r.txt

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luvbabydoll · 19 days ago

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— under their noses — chapter one

a series by © luvbabydoll — inspired by @goatgoesmbe

you never intended to start an only fans.

but between nursing school, grueling shifts, and bills that refused to pay themselves, you had to get creative. and what started as a desperate attempt to make ends meet quickly turned into a steady income.

the men on their seemed to like you. they liked your voice, the softness in your tone, the way you spoke like you meant it. you never showed your full face, but that only added to the mystery. you played into it—the sweet, teasing persona, the gentle praise, the intimacy that kept men coming back for more.

and, completely unknowingly, the entirety of Task Force 141 had fallen for you.

—

it had all started months ago.

one of their missions had gone sideways—bad intel, long hours, more bodies than they were expecting. and by the time they got back to base, exhausted and strung out, all they wanted was food, alcohol, and sleep.

but mostly alcohol.

soap was the first to bring it up.

slumped against a crate, half a bottle of whiskey deep, he let out a groan and muttered, “boys, i think i’m in love.”

gaz snorted, kicking his boots up on the table. “oh, yeah? you have some girl we don’t know about?”

“angel.”

ghost, who had been silently nursing his drink, stiffened.

gaz raised an eyebrow, “angel…?”

soap pulled out his phone and waved it lazily. “she’s some onlyfans girl, mate. best thing that i ever stumbled upon. swear to god, she cares about me.”

gaz laughed. “you are down horrendous, johnny boy.”

“oi, don’t judge me ‘til you’ve heard her. this girl is unreal. always saying the nicest things.” soap sighed dramatically.

gaz rolled his eyes. “yeah, mate. ‘cause she’s getting paid to do that.”

“so? it still counts for me.”

gaz held out a hand. “alright alright, lemme see.”

soap hesitated for a moment. “...fine. but don’t be weird about it.”

gaz took the phone, tapped through a few of the videos, and went silent.

after a moment, he muttered, “okay, shit. you might be onto something.”

soap smirked miraculously. “told you.”

ghost, who had been quietly brooding, finally spoke. “you idiots just now finding out about her?”

they both turned to look at him shocked.

gaz blinked. “w-wait, what?”

ghost took a sip of his whiskey, deadpan. “i’ve been subscribed for months.”

soap choked on his drink. “YOU WHAT?”

ghost shrugged carelessly. “found her first.”

gaz’s jaw dropped. “y-you mean to tell me you—simon ‘i hate everyone’ riley—has been secretly been subscribed to an onlyfans girl this whole time?”

ghost didn’t answer. he just took another sip of his whiskey.

soap stared at him, with a look of betrayal that you see in movies. “and you didn’t tell us?”

ghost gave him a flat look. “why the fuck would i tell you?”

soap pointed aggressively. “you gatekeeping bastard.”

gaz shook his head in amusement. “price is gonna lose his shit when he finds out.”

“Finds out what?”

the three of them turned to see price walking in, looking mildly suspicious.

for a moment, nobody spoke.

and then, without missing a beat, gaz held out the phone. “cap. you gotta see this.”

and that’s how, in the span of one drunken night, every single one of them became your most loyal subscribers.

—

and then you arrived.

your first day on base was nothing special—standard introductions, paperwork, getting settled.

well for you, at least.

but for them? it was a nightmare.

soap noticed it at first.

your voice—was way too familiar. too exact. the way you spoke, the soft warmth in your tone. it sent a shiver down his spine.

gaz eventually picked up on the way you moved—the tilt of your head, the way your fingers ghosted over their skin during check-ups.

ghost, who was normally unreadable, was tense.

and price? price just sighed a lot.

none of them said anything. they couldn’t.

because if they were wrong—if this was just some wild coincidence—then they’d look like absolute idiots.

but if they were right?

then their sweet, soft-spoken angel had just walked into their lives, completely unaware that every single one of them had been on their knees for her voice alone.

and fuck, they were not prepared for that.

#luvbabydoll ‧₊˚ ⋅#cod smut #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #ghost cod #simon ghost smut #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon riley x reader smut #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x you #john price x reader #john price smut #john price x you #john price x y/n #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader

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ghstzzn · 2 months ago

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helping hand

pairing: bsf!lee heeseung x fem!reader

synopsis: heeseung had an unusual ritual before every competition as a professional league of legends player. one that his ex-girlfriend could no longer fulfill for him, leaving him desperate enough to ask for your help as his best friend.

tags/warnings: SMUT! MDNI! barely proofread lol, heeseungs a professional gamer… idk shit about that tho, you’re his best friend, league of legend mention, oral (m. rec), face fucking, deepthroating obv, praise? heeseung whimpers and whines here and there, name calling bc he calls her a perv hehe, reader touches herself and orgasms bc of his whimpering, cum swallowing, first time writing JUST a blowjob & ball fondling hehe and more probably! [3.3k words]

🖤: im so scared this was only supposed to be like 1k words but i cant shut the fuck up ever.

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT!

it’s been awhile since you’ve had heeseung linger around your apartment for hours or even days like this. between his time spent with his now ex girlfriend and his professional gaming career, you had rarely seen him. only relying on occasional short lunch meetings or quick coffee runs.

it’s not that his ex disliked you, but more so disliked that you and heeseung happened to be an extremely attractive pair of friends and hated that people would confuse you both as a couple rather than heeseung and her.

you missed your best friend, and it comforted you that he returned those feelings.

before heeseung had stepped foot into a relationship with his ex, he would spend half of his time at your apartment. especially when he had a competition that was near.

“are you nervous?” you ask him, watching as he packs little things he left at your apartment into a small suitcase for the gaming league. it was only one city away but these sorts of things take an entire weekend.

heeseung hums, “i’m confident.” you know he’s not lying either. there’s not much you know about gaming, or specifically, league of legends—but according to your mutual friends, heeseung seems to be a god at the game. yet, he seemed so antsy about something.

“so what are you gonna do about your little pre-competition ritual,” you hope to lighten his mood, easing him of whatever that was on his mind.

“what ritual?”

you clear your throat, “oh, um. your blowjob ritual..?”

the question was asked in a light hearted way, but heeseung didn’t react in such a way at all. the ritual, as you called it, was something heeseung accidentally created a few years ago when he had first gone pro. his situationship at the time gave him head right before he left as a sexy goodluck and a reminder of what he had waiting for him when he got back, but that day he had carried and won the competition for his entire team.

the next year after that he had gotten with his girlfriend and had shyly asked her to suck him off, to which she agreed and it had officially become a routine for every competition, including smaller, less meaningful ones.

“you okay, hee?”

“can i ask you something?” he suddenly speaks up, voice way louder than he intended, causing the both of you to cringe at the volume. “s-sorry.. i just need to ask you something.”

you nod slowly, “yeah, anything. is everything okay?”

heeseung thinks for a few moments before speaking again, “it’s a little personal and it’s okay if you are uncomfortable with this and you absolutely do not have to say yes but i need to at least ask you.”

“heeseung just say it.”

“can you give me a blowjob before my competition this weekend?”

your reaction comes in three stages. the both of you stare at each other in silence for about three minutes before you burst out in laughter, which also lasts about three more minutes. but when you see heeseungs panicked expression, you go silent again.

“wait… seriously?”

heeseung swallows before shaking his head timidly. he debated laughing along with you and passing it off as a complete joke but he felt the need to follow through. the room is silent again. your fingers subconsciously play with the zipper on his suitcase as you think about the question he just proposed to you.

your best friend, whom you’ve experienced half your life with, just asked you if you could give him head before one of his league of legends competitions.

what was the right answer here?

“you.. you don't have to,” heeseungs heart feels like it’s about to fall out of his chest. why on earth would he ask such a thing to his only female friend? no less, his best friend.

it was a joke. yeah, a joke! oh my god, why would i ask that, you pervert! you should’ve seen your face! you guys joke like this all the time, this is no different. he could totally play this off coolly.

“it’s fucking stupid, i know. but it seriously helps me and you know she would do it for me everytime.” he begins rambling without even realizing it. the air is so thick you would have to take a chainsaw to it. “y-you aren’t her, yeah, but i don’t know—it genuinely gets me through the competitions.”

heeseung lets out a shaky breath, “just forget it. ignore what i said.”

“well, no heeseung,” you cut him off, “i can’t just forget that you seriously asked me something like that.”

“please don’t make this awkward. you can say no and we can forget this happened.”

you could tell heeseung wanted to rip his tongue out, and to see your best friend this distressed over something so silly made you want to drop everything and get rid of those feelings for him.

“i mean, i never said no, did i..?”

heeseung looks up, meeting your gaze with a shocked expression, “what?”

“yeah,” you nod, “it doesn’t hurt to think about it, right? it’s not like you’re asking me to completely fuck you—a blowjob wouldn’t hurt us right? especially if it’s going to help you.”

he blinks. heeseung might think you’re going insane, and he’s the one that asked you for the blowjob. no way you were actually considering this for him.

what did he do in his past life to gain such a supportive, pretty best friend.

“so… you’ll think about it?” your best friend's voice is quiet when he asks, like he’s scared to speak up any louder. “like, seriously?”

“yeah,” nodding your head, you flash him a reassuring smile. agreeing to suck off your friend before his professional video game competition, a totally normal request.

when heeseung leaves your apartment, you immediately cuss yourself out. why the fuck would you practically agree to that?

but when you think about telling the boy no, your heart cracks. why? you don’t know. but what you do know is that you would rather die than look at his big sad brown eyes when you tell him you can't give him a special blowjob for his special day.

you were no pro at sucking dick, but you were dedicated to this friendship.

heeseung bounced his leg with nervousness and anticipation. you texted him that you were on the way to his hotel, which would’ve been normal and completely fine considering you attend all of his comps, but today was different.

you never answered his question.

he wonders if maybe you forgot about it. he also hopes you didn’t forget. ever since he asked you the big question, heeseung couldn’t get you out of his mind.

every night leading up to today, he’d lie awake staring at his ceiling trying to push every image of you sitting pretty between his legs out of his mind. the feeling of his cock hardening to the thought of you made him want to dive out of the nearest window.

it’s not like he didn’t think you were hot or that the idea of being intimate with you disgusted him, but it’s the fact that he promised to never be like every other guy.

the two of you were very close. from cuddling while watching movies to holding hands in a crowded area to heeseung beating up creepy men at dive bars for you—you both had a tight knit friendship. and he always promised that he would never cross that line. he might be a total loser but he liked to consider himself a gentleman at the same time.

that day, he did. yet you were still attending something that meant the world to him when you could’ve told him to fuck off and die.

four knocks at the door rips heeseung away from his thoughts.

with sweaty hands and knees that felt like jelly, heeseung grips the door knob and opens it, plastering the fakest smile he could muster up. “hey.” did his voice crack? fuck my life.

“hi!” you hold up two bags filled with a variety of snacks with a large smile on your face, “i brought some stuff for this weekend.”

he clears his throat and steps to the side, letting you enter his hotel room. heeseung averts his gaze to the ceiling as you walk by him, afraid of letting his eyes stay on you–what if he accidentally looks at your ass?

“what time does it start today?” you ask, completely unaware of the emotional distress your male best friend was going through. so nonchalant and unmoving. maybe you did forget afterall.

heeseung takes a seat at the desk in his hotel room, where he had a temporary p.c. set up in case he needed a practice game. “uhh, it’s at six this time.”

“jeez… you guys won't be leaving until late then.” you glance at the clock and back to him. he has to leave very soon. how do you casually start giving your best friend a blowjob within the next fifteen minutes.

“yeah, you know of all people that these things can go for hours. you’re gonna be there for the last few rounds right?”

you nod, wondering if heeseung could notice the way you’re practically gawking at him. was he always this hot? it’s stupid question when you’re fully aware of how attractive heeseung was and currently is. maybe it was the way he was dressed up for his competition tonight, or the way he leaned back on his hands and spread his legs comfortably.

the baggy black hoodie that you knew he was wearing by itself with nothing underneath paired with his baggy jeans that sat so perfectly on his hips. you were fully aware that you were checking out your best friend. he’s fucking hot, why else would you agree to do any of this?

you wonder if he’s thought about this as much as you have. is he nervous? is he vocal? how long does it take for him to get hard and how big is he?

“hey,” you don’t know where the confidence is coming from, but you find yourself kneeling in front of him with your hands on his knees, “you’re gonna do great and win this. like you always do. i’ll make sure of it.”

heeseung almost chokes on his own spit when you suddenly slip between his legs, “wha- what are you doing..?”

“did you not want my help? or did you forget?” you ask him, genuine confusion. “i-if you already-”

“no!” heeseung cuts you off, grabbing your hand with his. “i mean, i still do. i just didn’t think you were down.”

you rub your other hand up his thigh, fingers mere centimeters away from his crotch area. so close to where he needs you, yet so far. “of course i am. what good are best friends if they can’t help each other out?”

heeseungs breath hitches when your hand grazes the zipper of his jeans. he lets go of your other hand and you take it as a cue to keep going.

“just let me take care of you, hee.”

and for the first time ever, that nickname made his cock twitch.

just the view he had of you sitting pretty between his thighs, hesitant but still full of confidence as you softly palmed him through his jeans was enough for him to be leaking.

“can i…” you ask quietly, fingers on the button of his jeans. he nods once and gulps as you immediately pop the button open and move to the zipper. it feels like hours before you’re finally pulling his jeans down below his hips.

you can’t lie and say the bulge of his hardening cock, covered by his calvin kleins, wasn’t making your mouth water. you push his hoodie up slightly, the way your cold fingertips hit his lower stomach as you grab the waistband of his boxers has his stomach tensing under your touch. you let out a small gasp when his cock almost springs out of his boxers.

your best friend is packing.

heeseung almost chuckles when he catches your reaction.

“don’t laugh.”

“i’m not.”

“i can see it!” you argue back.

heeseung rolls his eyes, “please just continue.”

“i won't if you keep up that attitude. you know we have less than fifteen minutes.” you retort after hearing him scoff.

“i can miss rehearsals.”

“heeseu-”

“god, please let me just fuck your mouth.”

oh my god? were you supposed to be turned on? you bite your lip and look down in his lap, taking his cock in your hand with a soft but firm grip. you lean forward and let spit slowly drip from your mouth as you start pumping him.

heeseung lets out a quiet groan and you look up at him—wide eyes that are practically asking, is this good? you continue to gently fist his cock, getting him nice and hard before you start using your mouth on his.

“i hope you win.” is all you say before you kiss his tip and sink your mouth onto him.

the boy is practically seeing stars. you just started and he’s already moaning like a bitch. it felt so good, he can’t rip his gaze from you, watching the way your lips wrap around him tightly and your cheeks hollow out as you literally suck him in.

“fuck, like that…” his hand finds sanctuary wrapped around your hair, not yet pushing you down on his cock completely, but more so as guidance.

you let go out his cock with a pop and continue pumping him with your fist, licking the underside of his base as you make direct eye contact. he lets out a groan and lets his head fall back.

“you don’t have to hold back heeseung,” you mumble, but the lust was evident in your tone. “don’t be gentle, this is for you.”

“holy fuck, don’t say that.” you giggle at his response and smile against his tip before taking him back into your mouth. heeseung grips your hair tighter and pushes you further down his cock per your request. he can hear you inhale deeply through your nose as you attempt to take all of him. but of course you can’t.

you stroke what you can’t fit and let heeseungs hand guide you up and down his cock. he uses all self control to not thrust into your mouth. heeseung hisses through his teeth every time your lips tighten around the tip of his dick, feeling somewhat more sensitive than he usually is.

a guttural moan rips from his throat when your hand comes up to squeeze his balls, offering a helping hand in making him cum soon. time was ticking. but heeseung did not care whatsoever, especially after that move.

he almost wishes he knew how fucking good you were at giving head before all of this. your mouth was so warm, wet and tight around his cock–he was in heaven. heeseung genuinely thinks this is one of the best blowjobs he’s ever gotten. his hips buck, suddenly pushing his cock deep inside of your mouth and hitting the back of your throat. you cough around his cock in surprise but it only spurs your best friend on.

maybe it was the fact that you’re his best friend. sure, it’s not taboo by any means, but there are lines that are never to be crossed in these sorts of relationships–holy shit, heeseung was on cloud 9.

“oh my god,” he whines, “you’re so good at this. fuck–god, don’t stop.”

his words, his moans, his whines–they all send tingles down your spine and straight to your core. you can’t deny the throb in your cunt though.

you continue to squeeze and fondle his balls as you let heeseung completely guide your head deeper onto his cock, thrusting his hips upwards and meeting your mouth halfway. your other hand grips his thigh, keeping you stable and relaxed as he abuses your throat with the head of his cock.

the groan that leaves your mouth when he tugs your hair tighter is accidental, you look up at heeseung. he looks beautiful like this. a pink blush across his cheeks, damp forehead, and hazy eyes. you were surely dripping through your panties now.

“yeah? you like t-this too, huh?” heeseung spits out. now you’re almost jealous of every woman he’s managed to pull, because fuck did that just turn you on even more. “want me to use your mouth however i want?”

you moan in response, nodding your head. heeseung lets out a long exhale as he shoves your head down his cock again. tears line your eyes and threaten to spill over, trying to relax your throat to take him completely.

“y-you’re taking me so good, y’know that? so good, baby.”

immediately, your hand that was once on heeseungs thigh is making its way down and into your shorts. you were soaked.

heeseung lets out another choked moan when he notices your hand in your shorts, circling your clit as you let him fuck your throat. how badly he also wishes you would just take those stupid shorts off and let him see exactly what you’re doing, he yearns to see you play with yourself one day.

“playing with yourself while you let me use this pretty mouth…” heeseung groans, lifting your head for a mere second before pushing you down his cock again. your hand tightens around his balls and he almost whimpers at the sensation. “you like this just as much, fucking pervert.”

you let out a whine, tears falling down your cheeks, you were already so close.

heeseung gets rougher, guiding your head much faster than before. your lips were burning and there was spit completely covering your other hand. but still, you continue to suck and lick at his cock as if it were your last meal, letting him force his way down your throat.

“‘m so close. so fucking close.” now you're both whimpering. “fuckfuckfuck, gonna cum soon, baby. keep going, please, hah–you feel so fucking good.”

his words were enough for you to hit your peak, an orgasm washing through your body immediately. you’re squirming and whining, sending vibrations down heeseungs cock.

“ah, fuck,” he continues to let words fall out of his mouth in the form of broken moans, “y-yeah, ‘ts so good. feels so good.” heeseung suddenly pushes your head all the way down, your nose making contact with the soft hair as the base of his cock, and he cums.

thick, hot ropes of cum covering the back of your throat. you’re gagging and choking at the full feeling, wanting to pull back so badly, but he doesn’t stop–not until he’s milked dry.

after what feels like an eternity, he lets go and you pull back, gasping and coughing but swallowing most of his cum in the process. your hands fly to your neck as you massage it and catch your breath.

heeseung on the other hand was breathing heavily. that was the best orgasm he’s ever had.

“holy fuck.”

you look up at the male, who seemed like he was about to pass out, “hee, you have to go.” your voice is raspy and weak.

“i can’t.” he responds, out of breath. “that was amazing. i can’t move.”

you stand up and pull him up with you, balancing him when he stumbles forward. “seriously, you have to go now.” now you’re putting his cock away for him, he hisses loudly at the feeling but you ignore it and zip up his jeans. “now.”

heeseung sighs and looks down at you, “did you.. get off like that?”

you tighten your lips and nod hesitantly.

“god. god, you’re amazing.” he breathes out, wanting nothing more than to throw you down on the bed and fuck you until he physically cannot. “please, please be here when i get back, i’m literally begging you.”

you nod at him, reassuring him that you’ll be here when he’s done as you usher him out of the hotel room. “i will, hee. just go.” you suppose this is what best friends are for after all.

“and do not show up to the comp tonight or i will be hard the entire fucking time.”

#enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen hard thoughts #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung x reader #heeseung fanfic #heeseung smut #lee heeseung smut #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung fanfic #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #enhypen fanfic

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cipheress-to-k-pop · 10 days ago

Text

baby daddy (j.t.)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings: Some blood and stuff

Word Count: 7.1k

A/N: I'll be so honest, this was way better in my head lol my execution needs work because aint no way this is 7k words and im still not satisfied perhaps this would be best as a series? but tbh i dont think i can write much more than this

It's based on this post from @batbusiness-schooldropout

"Alright, who the hell snitched?"

Jason stormed into the Batcave, helmet tucked under his arm, pissed.

Tim barely looked up from the Batcomputer, "What are you talking about?"

Jason gestured wildly, "I just had a fun little run-in with a couple of GCPD officers who very politely informed me that I have an outstanding legal matter that needs my attention. Which is news to me because I don’t exactly file taxes or have jury duty, so what the hell are they trying to pull?"

Tim blinked, "You have a warrant?"

"That’s what I’m asking you!" Jason snapped.

Tim, now curious, spun back to the screen, "Alright, let’s check."

He typed in Red Hood and cross-checked it with Gotham’s legal system. A few minor infractions came up—nothing serious—but then…

There it was.

Tim frowned, "Huh."

Jason narrowed his eyes, "What?"

"It’s… not a warrant," Tim said slowly, "It’s a summons."

Jason crossed his arms, "For what?"

Tim clicked on the file. A scanned document popped up, the words 'LEGAL NOTICE' at the top.

"Looks like someone filed you as a legal guardian," Tim muttered, "Gotham’s courts have been trying to notify you for a while now. They probably flagged it to GCPD just to get it on your radar."

Jason scoffed, "Guardian? Of who?"

Tim clicked again, "A kid named Aria (L/N)."

Jason frowned, "That name means nothing to me."

Tim went still.

Jason’s stomach sank, "...What?"

Tim very slowly turned the screen toward him.

Jason stared.

Child’s Name: Aria (L/N) Mother: (Y/N) (L/N) Father: Red Hood

His brain just stopped working.

Dick, passing by with his coffee, glanced at the screen, "Oh, damn. Jay, you finally settling down?"

Jason whipped around to glare at him, "I don’t know this woman! I don’t have a kid!"

"Legally, you do." Tim pointed out.

Jason turned back to the screen, rubbing his temples, "Why is my life like this?"

Tim scrolled further, "Looks like the mother put your name down instead of the real father’s. And since Gotham courts don’t do DNA tests without permission from both parents… that guy got screwed out of custody."

Jason clenched his jaw, "And now they’re trying to find me because I’m on record as the dad."

Tim squinted at the file, then choked.

Jason looked at him warily, "...What?"

Tim covered his mouth, trying so hard not to laugh, "There's a comments section."

Jason leaned over his shoulder, eyes scanning the document. Then he saw it.

Additional Comments: "He kept the helmet on the whole time."

The Cave went dead silent.

Jason stared. Tim bit his lip. Dick was turning red trying not to lose it.

Then—

Tim wheezed.

Dick howled.

Jason smacked his forehead against the Batcomputer, "I hate everything."

He then exhaled sharply, cutting off his mental breakdown before muttering, "Okay. Fine. I’ll go find the mother and figure this out."

Dick snickered, "Tell Aria Daddy’s coming home."

Jason threw a batarang at him.

***

"Hi, honey, I'm home."

The distorted, robotic voice from his helmet made you freeze in place. Your pulse thundered in your ears, dread settling like a stone in your stomach. You knew exactly why the Red Hood was in your apartment.

You turned slowly, keeping your hands in sight as if that would make a difference, "Please, don't. My daughter is in the next room. She only has me."

"Don't you mean our daughter?" He bit out, sarcasm cutting through the voice modulator.

Despite whatever anger he held toward you, he hesitated, feeling pity. You must have looked terrified.

"I'm not here to hurt you," He said after a beat, "I just want an explanation."

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stay calm, "Her father is an asshole. I couldn’t let him have any rights over her, so I wrote your name down on all her documents. Gotham has no way of verifying, so they just had to take my word for it."

You met his gaze, your voice steady despite the situation, "I’m sorry if I made things complicated for you, but this was the only way I knew to keep his hands off her."

Jason exhaled sharply, shifting his weight, "How long did you think this would go unnoticed?"

You hesitated before answering, "Well… 'our' daughter turned five last month, so I figured you weren't going to find out anytime soon. Guess I was wrong."

You knew of Red Hood. You knew what he stood for. No matter what, he would never hurt a child. Ever. And if the rumors about him were true, then he would realize that you had only been acting in Aria’s best interest.

He studied you, the lenses of his helmet unreadable, but you could feel the weight of his scrutiny. This was an invasion of privacy—probably illegal, even—but instead of anger, he seemed... intrigued. You weren’t what he expected. You were clever, maybe even reckless, but clearly devoted to your daughter.

And—if he was being honest—pretty. Definitely pretty.

"Why me?" He finally asked, "Why not any of the other Bats?"

You shrugged, "Of all of them, you seemed like the least likely for civil court to track down." That much was true—any time someone tried to drag Red Hood into Gotham’s legal system, he either ignored it or laughed in their face before firing a warning shot.

"You're also the scariest, aside from Batman. And I didn’t want him getting any ideas about recruiting Aria for his next child vigilante project once Robin retires again." You smirked, "Lastly, having a baby daddy without a no-kill rule seemed like a great way to keep that deadbeat asshole far, far away from us."

Jason flat-out laughed at that. The sound, even through the voice modulator, carried warmth.

"You make an excellent argument," He admitted.

You relaxed slightly, "I am sorry. If I knew it was going to bother you, I never would have done it."

He shrugged, completely unbothered, "Doesn’t bother me. You were doing right by your kid. I can respect that."

Relief washed over you, and you smiled. You didn’t push the conversation further—if he wanted to be taken off her documents, he’d ask.

Instead, he surprised you.

"Can I meet her?"

Your breath caught, "Who? Aria?"

"I mean, legally, she’s my kid, right? That means I have visitation rights."

Apprehension prickled at the edges of your mind. Had you just swapped out one danger for another? You had gone to great lengths to keep Aria safe from one man—had you unknowingly invited another into her life?

Jason seemed to sense your hesitation. "You can say no," He said, almost gently, "But I just found out I have a daughter today. I’d like to meet the girl who made you pull a stunt this reckless and brave."

You could say no. You probably should say no.

And yet, as you looked at the masked man standing in your too-small living room, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

"...Okay," You said at last, "But you might want to take off the mask. She scares easy."

Jason chuckled, low and amused. You half-expected him to refuse, to make some offhanded comment before declining the invitation and leaving, but instead, you heard the soft click as he unlocked his helmet and pulled it off.

Dark, slightly messy hair with a single white streak. Stormy blue eyes. Sharp cheekbones and full lips.

"Wow," You breathed before you could stop yourself.

He raised a brow.

You cleared your throat, cheeks warming, "I can see where our daughter gets her good looks from."

Jason snorted, shaking his head.

"Aria, honey!" You called, turning toward her room, "Come out for a second, please!"

The door creaked open, followed by the soft pitter-patter of tiny feet. Aria emerged in a pink tutu, a plastic wand in her hands, and a sparkly tiara perched on her head.

She blinked up at Jason with wide, curious eyes.

"This is Mommy’s friend, Red Hood," You told her, "He wanted to say hi."

Aria beamed, "Hi, Mr. Hood!" She grabbed the edges of her tutu and curtsied, just like the princesses in her favorite cartoons.

You glanced at Jason. His expression had softened, the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. For a man who had probably seen the worst the world had to offer, he looked completely in awe.

Jason, the Red Hood—the most terrifying name in Gotham’s underworld—cleared his throat, gripping his helmet a little tighter.

"Uh. Hi there." He said, voice definitely shaking.

You bit your lip, looking down to hide your smile.

This huge crime lord, who had probably seen more murders tonight than you had in your entire life, was nervous talking to a five-year-old.

Aria giggled, "You talk funny."

Jason blinked, "I do?"

She nodded, "Your voice is all rumbly! Like Batman!"

Jason made a very undignified sound, "I am nothing like Batman, princess."

Aria gasped dramatically, "You know Batman?!"

***

Jason didn’t know exactly how he ended up in this position.

After that first meeting with Aria, he’d been more than ready to let you both get back to your lives. You had only put his name down as Aria's father to scare off her real father; he had no place here.

And yet.

When he found himself alone in his apartment, staring at the ceiling, or in the rare moments of silence while working on cars, his mind drifted. He’d think about Aria—her wide, innocent eyes staring up at him, the way she had curtsied like a damn princess, completely unafraid of the man Gotham whispered about in fear.

An unfamiliar squeeze tugged at his heart.

He had a daughter.

And the more he thought about her, the more he wanted to protect her—to keep that innocence untouched, to make sure she was safe and happy. He wanted to be a father.

Then, inevitably, his thoughts turned to you.

You hadn't spoken for long, but somehow, you’d managed to stick in his mind. Despite it being the end of the day, exhaustion tugging at you, there had been a light in your eyes—something warm, something alive. He found himself drawn to it.

The confidence in your posture, the way you had no trouble meeting his eyes, the sheer sass you had thrown his way despite knowing exactly who he was. And above all, the love and protectiveness you had for Aria.

You were nothing like anyone he had ever met before.

A couple of days later, he found himself knocking at your door again.

He had told himself it was just to check on Aria after a Joker attack. That was reasonable, right? He had to make sure she was safe. That’s all it was.

You had offered him dinner. He declined.

Then, a couple of days after that, he found himself there again—this time after a Poison Ivy incident.

You offered him dinner again.

This time, he obliged.

That night, he sat at your dinner table with you and Aria, listening as she excitedly told him about school. He learned about your job, about the little details of your life, and—much to his amusement—was introduced to what Aria called the greatest meal in the entire world.

Hello Kitty-shaped pasta.

He raised a brow at you.

You shrugged, "It’s expensive, but it makes her happy."

Jason huffed a small laugh, "What’s the special occasion?"

Aria beamed, practically vibrating in her seat.

"I got made line leader today!" She announced proudly.

You glanced at her with a mix of amusement and pride, eyes warm, "It’s a big deal."

Jason turned to Aria, his chest tightening at the way she puffed herself up with pride. Without thinking, he reached out and ruffled her hair like it was second nature.

"Good job, princess," He murmured.

Her entire face lit up.

And just like that, Jason Todd was done for.

It had been two months since Jason first met the both of you, and now, sitting at the dinner table, he was experiencing his first real parental crisis.

It was obvious that Aria was in a bad mood.

She barely touched her food, half-heartedly pushing it around her plate. Even when you suggested ordering takeout—usually a foolproof way to lift her spirits—she just shook her head. You and Jason exchanged a concerned glance over her head.

Something was clearly wrong.

You sighed, resigning yourself to the hope that she’d tell you before bed or at least over breakfast tomorrow.

"I'm just gonna go take a shower, do you mind?" You asked, gesturing toward Aria.

Jason didn’t hesitate before nodding.

You smiled gratefully, pressing a kiss to Aria’s crown before leaning over and doing the same to Jason.

A month ago, that would’ve made him jump out of his skin. Now, after two months of shared dinners—some planned, others happening more naturally—he only sat there, heart racing in his chest, pretending that wasn’t the highlight of his day.

When he heard the shower turn on, he turned to Aria with a mischievous grin.

"Okay, Mom’s in the shower. What do you say to ice cream for dinner?"

Jason liked to pretend you had no idea whenever he and Aria snuck ice cream together. But ever since he convinced you to let him make homemade ice cream with protein shakes and sneaky healthy ingredients, you had stopped putting up much of a fight. Besides, he wasn’t exactly subtle. If he didn’t outright tell you, the dirty dishes in the sink were more than enough of a giveaway.

More than anything, though, he just wanted Aria to eat something.

But tonight, instead of the excited little gasp she usually gave, Aria just frowned.

"Mommy doesn’t like that."

"Princess," He said more gently, shifting in his seat, "is something wrong? You love ice cream. And Mom made one of your favorites tonight, but you’re not eating, and…" His voice softened, "That makes me sad."

Aria hesitated for a few seconds before pushing her plate away and sliding off her chair. Jason tensed, heart thudding slightly faster. Shit, did I upset her? Is she about to cry?

But she didn’t.

Instead, she ran off, returning moments later with her pink Barbie backpack. She unzipped it and rifled through its contents before pulling out a slightly crumpled piece of paper and handing it to him.

Jason smoothed the paper out.

And felt his stomach drop.

Daddy-Daughter Day!

"My teacher told us to give it to our parents," Aria said quietly, her lip trembling, "So our daddies can come visit one day."

She fidgeted, looking down at her hands.

"But… I don’t have a daddy."

And just like that, Jason Todd’s heart broke in two.

***

When you came out of the shower, towel-drying your hair and now dressed in your pajamas, you immediately looked around for Aria.

"She didn’t really want to eat, so I just put her to bed," Jason informed you.

You sighed, sinking into a chair at the dining table, "Do you think I should call her teacher tomorrow and ask if something happened? Maybe someone was being mean to her at school?"

Wordlessly, Jason slid a folded piece of paper across the table toward you. You furrowed your brows and picked it up, unfolding it to read.

Your face immediately darkened.

"This can’t be right!" You hissed, voice sharp with anger. "I thought schools had outfashioned practices like this! What happened to inclusivity and all that crap? What about kids with two moms? Or no parents at all? I’m calling up the school. I’m gonna be a full-blown Karen. I’m gonna—"

"(Y/N)—"

"No, Jason, this isn’t okay!"

Despite your fury, you kept your voice down for Aria’s sake. Jason wasn’t sure if you were about to explode or just strain your vocal cords with your whispered screams. But then, just as suddenly as your anger had flared, you seemed to fizzle out.

You slumped back into your chair, rubbing your face with trembling hands.

"I’ve done everything I can to make sure Aria never feels the absence of a father," You murmured.

"I’ve tried. I’ve—" Your voice cracked.

You let out a shaky breath and shielded your face with your hands, "My poor baby. I can’t believe she held onto this all day without telling me."

Jason think twice before he pulled you into his arms, letting you rest your head against his neck as you composed yourself.

After a moment, he spoke, "Look, I know it might not be the same, but… I was thinking. What if I attended the event with Aria?"

You stiffened, then slowly pulled back, meeting his eyes. Your expression wasn’t hopeful—it was guarded.

Jason’s stomach soured.

"Jay, I know we’ve been having a good time lately, but you can’t do that to Aria," You said, shaking your head, "If you go to this event as her dad, she’s going to see you as that. And you can’t—you can’t do that to her."

Jason swallowed hard. His voice was quieter when he asked, "What if I wanted to? To be seen as her dad? Would that really be so terrible?"

You didn’t answer.

You just stood up from the table and walked away.

Jason almost would have laughed at how much you resembled Aria in that moment if he didn't feel his stomach sinking to his feet.

But just like Aria, you also came back.

Clutched in your hands was a camera. You placed it in front of him, watching as he stared at you with unsure eyes.

"I record all of Aria’s school events," You said softly. "Don’t miss a second of it."

Jason blinked. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face.

Before you could react, he grabbed you and twirled you around the kitchen.

You let out a surprised squeal before bursting into giggles, clinging onto his shoulders. But then, realization hit.

You were definitely not wearing a bra.

Your giggles faded, and Jason froze as well, both of you suddenly very aware of how close you were. You stared at each other, identical blushes creeping up your cheeks.

You cleared your throat.

"You can—um—you can put me down now."

***

It was almost comical how small the classroom was.

Jason had to duck his head to step inside, barely squeezing through the low doorframe. The room was packed—about fifteen other dads crammed into tiny plastic chairs that looked like they could barely support one ass cheek. Jason didn’t even bother trying. Instead, he just lowered himself to the floor, crossing his legs as he settled in.

The dads around him nodded politely as they all waited for the teachers to finish setting up and taking attendance.

"I don’t think I’ve seen you around before," A man beside him said, shifting his son in his lap, "I’m David."

"Jason," He replied, shaking his hand with a firm but polite grip.

"This is Harry," David continued, gesturing to the little boy who peeked up at Jason shyly before quickly burying his face in his dad’s shirt. Jason chuckled.

"So, which one’s yours?"

Jason glanced across the room, "Over there, in the book corner."

David followed his gaze. In the far corner, a little girl in denim dungarees rifled through a stack of picture books with a very serious expression, clearly determined to find a specific one. Jason had picked out her outfit today—he’d even let her wear the tiara she refused to take off, despite your insistence that it was an inside toy.

No doubt, she was making a mess that her poor teacher would have to clean up later.

David frowned, "Who?"

"The one with the tiara," Jason said.

David's confusion deepened, "Aria?"

Jason’s brows furrowed, "Yeah."

"Aria (L/N)?"

"Yes."

David blinked, "I—I didn’t know you were—I thought (Y/N) was single."

Jason’s expression darkened. A phantom of a scowl flickered across his face before he forced himself to relax. He wasn’t about to scare off the other parents at an event that was supposed to be important for Aria.

"She isn’t," He said simply.

David paled, "Oh. Uh—sorry." He quickly bowed his head, clearly embarrassed.

Jason smirked, barely hiding his haughty attitude. So what if he told a little white lie? It wouldn’t do any harm for Dave—or Dan, or whatever his name was—to keep his sights off you.

Really, you deserved better than some average, boring guy who probably filed his taxes early and grilled chicken without seasoning. Someone like that wouldn’t know how to handle you. He wouldn’t know how to make you laugh when you were stressed, wouldn’t know how to handle your sass, wouldn’t know how to love you the way you deserved.

No, you needed someone confident. Someone strong. Someone who could protect you and Aria. Someone with a soft side, sure, but also someone who wasn’t afraid to fight for you. Someone who would go to hell and back if it meant keeping you both safe.

Someone like…

Oh.

Jason's smirk faltered for half a second before he recovered, clearing his throat and forcing himself to focus on Aria, who was still knee-deep in her book hunt.

Well. That was something to unpack later.

***

"Now, all together, everyone! On the count of three—one, two, three!" the teacher announced cheerfully.

A chorus of tiny voices rang out.

"I love you, Dad!"

It was loud, chaotic, a jumble of high-pitched shouts that somehow blended into something warm and sweet. Parents chuckled, kids giggled, the room filled with laughter and joy.

But Jason’s heart sank.

While the other kids beamed up at their fathers, Aria clutched the handmade card in tight fists, her knuckles white. She kept her head down, lip wobbling, shoulders trembling as she struggled to say the words.

Jason knelt in front of her, his heart twisting. God, she’s so small. Both of her tiny hands barely covered his palm as he gently took them in his own.

"You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to, Aria," He told her softly, "I’m not going to force you to do anything. Just know that I love you very much, princess. That’s enough for me."

She finally looked up at him, somehow seeming even smaller despite the fact that he was kneeling. Her big, glassy doe eyes searched his face.

"You really love me?" She asked in the quietest whisper.

"More than anything, baby."

The words slipped out before he could stop them, before he could think about the weight they carried. About what it might mean for a little girl who had spent her whole life without a father.

For a moment, she just stared at him. Jason barely had time to register the emotion in her eyes before she launched herself at him, tiny arms wrapping tightly around his neck. She burrowed against him, her small frame pressing against his chest as she whispered into his ear—

"I love you, Daddy."

Jason felt his breath catch in his throat.

Oh. Oh.

He squeezed her tighter, pressing his face into her soft curls, "I love you too, princess," He murmured, voice thick with something he wasn’t ready to name.

And for the first time in a long time, Jason Todd felt like he belonged.

***

Aria had been absolutely beaming after Daddy-Daughter Day, her excitement carrying her through the evening—especially since Jason had taken her to the park afterward. She had barely managed to get through telling you about her day, slurring her words sleepily as you tucked her into bed.

You pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, smoothing down her hair before stepping away, only to find Jason waiting for you in the doorway.

You smiled at him, reaching for his hand and leading him back to the living room. Without a word, you poured him a glass of wine, knowing that, even though he wouldn’t admit it, the day at her kindergarten had probably exhausted him. The proof was in the way he let out an almost comically heavy sigh the second he sank onto the couch.

You settled beside him, resting your head on his shoulder like it belonged there, both of you staring at the very much off television in comfortable silence.

“She has a lot of energy, doesn’t she?” You murmured, amused.

Jason huffed out a laugh, “Yeah. I like to think I’m somewhat athletic, but Aria put me to shame today.”

You smiled, tilting your head slightly to look up at him, “Thanks for going today. It meant a lot to her. And to me, too.”

There was a beat of silence before Jason reached for your hand, his fingers threading through yours like second nature. His grip was warm, grounding.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

***

Living in Gotham, you considered yourself one of the lucky ones.

Sure, you weren’t immune to the constant calamities that plagued the city, but you had managed to avoid being caught in the worst of them. Your bank had never been robbed while you were there. You had never been held hostage. You were one of the few people left who had never fallen victim to Joker venom.

Sure, your house had been broken into before—before Aria—but you were never home when it happened.

Really, you should’ve known your luck was going to run out eventually.

You had gotten too comfortable with Jason’s late-night visits, so when the knock came at your door, you didn’t even hesitate. You didn’t check the peephole. You didn’t ask who it was. You just…opened it.

Rookie mistake.

The man standing on the other side was a stranger. Tall. Built. And he made no effort to conceal the gun in his pocket.

Your blood went cold.

A smirk curled at his lips, sending goosebumps crawling up your skin. Your throat tightened.

“Hello, sweetheart. Did your baby daddy stop by?”

Your voice barely came out, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The man tsked, stepping forward, making you instinctively press yourself against the doorframe.

“Now, now. Don’t lie,” He murmured, “It won’t end well for you—or the little runt back there.”

Your heart stopped.

Aria.

Terror clawed at your chest, your breath shuddering. Tears burned your eyes.

“Please,” You whispered, “Don’t hurt her. She’s just a child.”

“The child of the infamous Red Hood.” He tilted his head mockingly, “You can’t possibly think that means nothing.”

You shook your head violently, “She doesn’t know anything. I don’t know anything. Please.”

Your hands were iron on the doorknob, but it meant nothing.

With a single sharp shove, he flung the door open.

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

***

Jason had been having a good night.

He had just finished his patrol and was on his way to your place, eager to see you and Aria. Maybe he’d bring her some hot chocolate, tuck her into bed, and spend the rest of the night with you, pretending—for just a little while—that the world outside didn’t exist.

Then he saw the door.

Wide open.

His blood ran cold.

Jason didn’t think—he moved. Gun drawn, he stormed inside, heart hammering against his ribs like a caged animal. The second he stepped into the apartment, his stomach dropped.

The place was trashed.

Aria’s toys were scattered across the floor, your coffee table overturned, and the framed pictures on the wall had been knocked down, the glass shattered.

There had been a struggle.

Jason’s throat tightened as his eyes landed on a streak of blood smeared across the hardwood floor.

His world tilted.

No. No, no, no, NO.

His hands shook, but his grip on his gun only tightened. His pulse was pounding in his ears, deafening, drowning out everything but the rage that ignited in his chest like an explosion.

His vision blurred with fury.

Someone took you. Someone took Aria.

His family.

Jason turned sharply and stormed out of the apartment, his movements lethal and precise. He going to hunt down the bastards who thought they could take his girls and live to tell the tale.

They were going to pay.

***

"I need you to find two missing people."

That was the first thing out of Jason’s mouth the second he entered the cave. His urgency didn’t seem apparent enough to anyone, judging by the way Dick and Bruce didn’t even look up from sparring.

Tim, who didn’t bother glancing away from the Batcomputer, simply asked, “Who?”

“(Y/N) and Aria (L/N).”

At this, Dick perked up, “Your fake baby mama and kid? She might not be missing, Little Wing. Maybe she’s just at Superman’s baby shower.”

Dick wasn’t expecting boisterous laughter, but at least a huff of breath or a chuckle would have been appreciated. Instead, he suddenly found himself grabbed by the collar, yanked forward until he was forced to look Jason in the eye.

Jason’s expression was thunderous—fury on the surface, but something even more unsettling lurked underneath.

“The mother of my child and my daughter are missing, and you want to make jokes?”

Dick raised a brow, forcing himself to stay calm, “I thought you didn’t know them?”

Jason’s grip tightened for a second before he let go, stepping back. His voice was low, unwavering.

“I do now.”

***

The world felt like it was spinning in slow motion. Every breath was a struggle, your head pounding from the blow you’d taken earlier, your body screaming in pain with every movement. You tried to focus, tried to tell yourself it was going to be okay—that Aria was okay—but you weren’t okay.

You had been firm in your resolve, refusing to reveal anything about the Red Hood, willing to die on the hill that you knew nothing. But you didn’t know how much longer you could keep it up. So far, they had only hurt you—because when they had turned to Aria, demanding answers, she had wailed and sobbed until she peed herself. The memory made tears well in your eyes.

Your poor girl might walk out of this untouched, but she wouldn’t leave unscathed. This would haunt her for years to come.

And you knew—the second they turned back toward her, the second they so much as raised a hand in her direction—you would break. It didn’t matter how much you loved Jason. You couldn’t, wouldn’t, ever put anyone above Aria’s safety.

Her terrified little eyes stayed locked on you, watching as a trail of blood ran down the side of your face.

Then the door slammed open.

The sound echoed in the empty space, sharp and deafening. Your body tensed, your breath catching in your throat. The man holding you captive turned toward the entrance, a sneer curling his lips.

“Well, well,” He drawled, his voice sickeningly amused. “Looks like Daddy's finally joined us for the party.”

Your heart leaped in your chest. But you couldn’t show it. Not when Aria was still in danger.

With the momentary distraction, she crawled into your lap, and despite the blinding pain searing through your body, you pulled her in. She trembled against you, clutching onto you as if her life depended on it—and in a way, it did. You shielded her, wrapping your arms around her tiny frame, covering her eyes with your bloody hand.

You whispered sweet nothings into her ear, pressing weak kisses to her temple, hoping—praying—that it would be enough to comfort her.

Then came the first gunshot.

You didn’t dare look. You knew what was happening. You could hear it in the crack of bone, the dull thuds of bodies hitting the floor, the sharp gasps of dying men. Jason was swift. Merciless. Tearing through the people who had dared to lay a hand on you and his daughter.

He was here.

He was going to save you.

Another body collapsed nearby, and your breath hitched. You felt yourself slipping, your limbs numb, your eyelids growing heavier by the second.

Then, his voice cut through the haze—low and desperate, but still gentle.

“Sweetheart?”

You wanted to look up at him, to reach for him, but your body was betraying you. Your vision blurred, the pain making it impossible to move.

His hand cupped your face, his warmth seeping into your skin, grounding you. You tried to focus on that, tried to hold on.

“Talk to me, baby,” He murmured, his voice tight with worry.

But you couldn’t. You could barely breathe. The only thing keeping you tethered to consciousness was the familiar scent of leather and gunpowder—the scent of Jason, of safety, of home.

You felt him shift, carefully lifting you into his arms, cradling you like you were the most precious thing in the world. You instinctively leaned into him, letting his presence surround you.

Aria clung to him just as tightly, her tiny voice muffled against his chest.

“Daddy!”

Despite everything, despite the agony consuming your body, your heart swelled at hearing her call him that. When had she started calling him Dad?

Then Jason’s fingers brushed against your cheek, his thumb wiping away a stray tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. His voice was softer now, almost breaking.

“Stay with me, sweetheart.”

You forced your eyes open, locking onto his—those intense, unwavering blue eyes that had pinned you to your place the first time you had met in your apartment.

That day you had been apprehensive at best when he had asked to meet Aria, second guessing every choice you made but in the end choosing to follow your gut when it said it had a good feeling about him.

Now, you were sure of it.

“Jason,” You rasped, barely above a whisper. His head snapped down toward you instantly, his grip tightening as if he were afraid you might slip through his fingers.

“I need you to promise me something,” You murmured, your breath shallow, your chest tight.

His brows furrowed. “Anything,” He said, but the hesitance in his voice told you he already knew where this was going.

“I need you to promise…” You swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to keep going, “If something happens to me… you’ll take care of Aria. Promise me, Jay.”

He froze.

For the first time since he’d stormed in, tearing through your captors like an avenging angel, he looked terrified.

His lips parted, but no words came out. You could see the battle raging inside him—the part of him that refused to believe he could lose you and the part that was too afraid not to make that promise.

“Don’t you dare say that,” He finally whispered, voice trembling, “I’m not losing you. I won’t—”

“Promise me,” You urged. You barely had the strength to grip his jacket, but you pulled weakly at the fabric anyway, needing him to understand.

His eyes glistened with unshed tears, his breath coming out in uneven bursts. But he wasn’t crying. Not yet.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he swallowed hard and nodded.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” He swore, his voice breaking. “I won’t let her grow up without you. I promise.”

The relief that washed over you was instant. Even as your vision darkened at the edges, even as your body started to give out, you felt… safe. At peace.

With your last burst of strength, you reached for Aria’s tiny hand, wrapping it in your weak grasp. You gave her a faint squeeze, managing the smallest of smiles.

“I love you,” You whispered, barely loud enough to be heard, “Both of you.”

Jason's breath hitched. His grip around you tightened, as if he could physically keep you here, tethered to him, to Aria, to the life he couldn't bear to lose.

“No, no, sweetheart—stay with me," He pleaded, his voice cracking, raw with panic. He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath shaky, "You don’t get to say that like it’s the last time. You don’t—Please (Y/N)—" His voice broke completely, and for the first time in a long time, Jason Todd was afraid.

Because he knew what loss felt like. Knew it too well.

And he couldn't—wouldn't—survive losing you too.

Aria let out a whimper, squeezing your fingers with her tiny hand. "Mommy?" Her voice was so small, so scared, and it shattered something inside him.

He shifted you in his arms, holding you closer, keeping you upright even though your body was limp.

“I love you too, sweetheart," he whispered, but the words felt hollow, like a plea rather than a promise.

Aria began to sob loudly, little hands grabbing at your sleeve, trying to shake you awake, “Mommy, wake up! Please!”

Her wails were raw, desperate, but Jason had to hold her back, had to keep her from accidentally hurting you any further. His grip on her was gentle but firm, even as his own body trembled with barely restrained terror.

He buried his face in her hair, biting back the sob threatening to claw its way out of his throat. He held you tighter, as if he could physically keep your soul tethered to him, as if just holding you close would stop the light from fading from your eyes.

He had never felt this helpless.

Jason Todd, the Red Hood, the man who had clawed his way back from the grave, who had survived horrors most people couldn’t even imagine—he was useless when it mattered most.

He was holding the broken pieces of this family.

A family that had been good, that had been safe before he came into the picture. A family that had welcomed him with open arms, treated him as though he had never been missing in the first place.

And what had he done in return?

He had ruined it.

He had brought his war, his bloodstained hands, his cursed existence into your lives, and now you were paying the price for it.

If he had never been selfish enough to stay, to want this, to think—even for a second—that he could have something good, that he could deserve you, this never would have happened.

This was his fault.

It was always his fault.

His mother’s betrayal. His death. His resurrection. The people he killed. The people he couldn’t save.

And now you.

Jason clenched his jaw, his breath coming out in ragged, uneven gasps. His heart slammed against his ribs as guilt and fury warred inside him. His hands, hands that had broken men, hands that had torn Gotham’s underworld apart, could do nothing but hold onto the only two people in the world who had ever made him feel like he was worth something.

But what was he worth now?

What good was he if he couldn’t even protect the people he loved?

Jason let out a shaking breath, pressing a kiss to Aria’s head, squeezing his eyes shut as he whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

He never should have stayed.

***

Jason kept his head down as he exited your hospital room, feeling his heart break under the weight of his own resolve—to stay away from both of you.

He spotted his father waiting at the reception, handling the paperwork and payment. As much as Jason felt like the lowest he had ever been and didn’t want anyone to see him like this, he was a little relieved. At least Bruce was here. At least he could leave knowing you were taken care of. He could go home, lock himself in his apartment, and spend the next few weeks trying to forget you. Trying to convince himself that he had been an idiot for ever thinking he had a place in your family.

Because thanks to him, your family had almost been destroyed.

With his head down, he walked up to Bruce, hands stuffed in his pockets. His father gave him a sympathetic pat on the back, but Jason didn’t want to talk. If he opened his mouth now, if he let himself breathe wrong, he knew the lump in his throat would break, and the tears would come pouring out.

"Daddy!"

The sound of Aria’s voice snapped his head up just in time for her to crash into him, her tiny arms wrapping around his neck in a desperate grip. Before he could even think, he was holding her, hugging her tight, feeling her little body shake.

"Daddy, don’t leave! Mommy and I need you! Please don’t go!"

Jason looked at her tear-streaked face and felt something deep inside himself crack. He beat himself up for even considering walking away. How could he? How could he leave while you were still lying in a hospital bed? How could he abandon Aria when she needed him most?

His baby girl.

She needed him. And the truth was—he needed her just as much. He needed both of you.

Right then and there, he made a promise to himself. He would protect you both more than anything. He would love you both more than anything. And he would stop at nothing to make sure you were happy and safe.

Pressing his nose against Aria’s wet cheek, he kissed away her tears, "I’m not going anywhere, princess. Daddy’s not going anywhere."

He stole a glance at Bruce, who gave him a small smile and a nod. With a steadier heart, he carried Aria back to your hospital room.

The second she saw you, Aria gasped, "Mommy!"

You gave Jason a tired smile from your place on the bed, the cut on your lip making it painful to do so, but you still reached out for his hand.

"I thought you would’ve left, wallowing in your guilt. Your masochistic streak and all that," You teased softly.

Jason let out a shaky breath, giving you a glassy-eyed smile before pressing another kiss to Aria’s temple.

"Our girl knows how to keep me grounded."

You grinned at that, exhaustion clear in your features but warmth shining in your eyes.

"She’s her father’s daughter, alright."

***

State of New Jersey Department of Family and Child Services Official Adoption Certificate

This document certifies that on 17/03/2025, Jason Peter Todd has legally adopted Aria (L/N), hereafter known as Aria Todd, and is recognized as her father with all parental rights and responsibilities.

Adoptive Parent: Jason Peter Todd Child’s Name (Amended): Aria Todd Birth Mother: (Y/N) Todd Previous Father Listed: Red Hood (Alias) — Amended

Additional Comments: "I’m not the stepdad. I’m the dad who stepped up." — Jason Todd

***

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