#and most important of all: living quietly and moving in silence does not mean you can't express your struggles when they occur

[heymacy]

joy list? joy list ✨

i was tagged by @whatwouldmickeydo, @energievie, @gardenerian, @creepkinginc, @7x10mickey, @metalheadmickey, @mishervellous, @ardent-fox, @heymrspatel, @gallawitchxx, @y0itsbri, @whatthebodygraspsnot, & @sleepyfacetoughguy to share some little joys!

i won’t lie to you, friends in my phone, life has been less than joyful lately. but i’m trying my best to celebrate little victories and find happiness in the simple things. so here, in no particular order, is a list of things that make the days bearable 💛

✩ quesadillas, teriyaki, and tacos ✩ when there’s a dog in the drive thru at work ✩ sunflowers 🌻 ✩ when my monstera Maggie puts out a new leaf 🌿 ✩ literally everything First Aid Beauty has ever made ✩ when my cell phone battery is fully charged ✩ songs with really good bass lines that vibrate the entire car ✩ telling my best friends “good morning” every single day ☀️ ✩ my therapist, who would be disappointed in me if i didn’t at least try to make this list ✩ getting my silly $7 drink for free ✩ listening to the songs my friends put on their IG stories because it’s like a little window into their souls ✩ building playlists 🎶 ✩ people who are tactful, empathetic, inclusive, and kind ✩ valentine’s day flowers from my nanny kid 💐 ✩ tip day 💸 ✩ angst with a happy ending ✩ crystals 💎 ✩ laughing uncontrollably with my wife ✩ making other people happy ✩ new books ✩ you guys 

i’m Quite late to this so i’m only tagging a few people: @iansfreckles, @greggster, @thisdivorce, @howlinchickhowl, @sunoficarus, & @crossmydna 💫 ily’all sm!

[mhykimagines]

When a Tornado Meets a Volcano (GN!Reader/Nero)

tags; angst w comfort, nero, arguments

It's always this tense atmosphere you hate the most. Your boyfriend Nero was a typically easygoing guy; there was hardly any arguments in your relationship because you both knew communication was the most important part. You knew that, even if you were afraid of the results, you needed to be open about it. And because of that, you guys hardly ever argued, and even then your arguments were short-lived because you quickly came to a resolution.

But this one, you feared, wasn't something either of you could back down from. Not with how you both felt about it, anyway. You were sitting in your room in the manor, sitting on your bed while Nero sat on the couch, and neither of you were looking at each other. You were content to pick your nails, and Nero was looking out the window, both of you unsure of where to start. But, fuck, this silence was the worst and you would rather die than sit here quietly any longer. So you speak, your voice a bit strained as you speak. "You know, I just wish you wouldn't lie about it."

That does it, because even though he's not looking at you you can feel the glare. "I didn't lie about it, damnit."

"You did. You told me you would stop, and you went and did it anyway. Is that not the definition of a lie?"

"I didn't do it on purpose. I had no other choice."

"You did." You're adamant about this, because you know you're right here. "You could've come to me, or even Faust. Instead, you ran off with Bradley-"

He scoffs, laughing bitterly under his breath. "You should've said that's what this was about. You can't just keep me from him."

You finally lift your gaze from your nails, staring at him incredulously. "Oh, I'm sorry for telling you I didn't feel comfortable with how Bradley has absolutely no concern for your life-"

"That's not true-"

"-And how you blindly follow him into any scenario regardless of how dangerous it is-"

"(Name)." He finally moves to meet your eyes, his eyebrows pressed down angrily. "You can't control me. I'm allowed to do what I want if I desire to do it. You would be pissed at me if I told you to stop hanging around Cain or Murr."

"That's not the same thing!" You defend, laughing bitterly. "I don't have a history of being a bandit with Cain and Murr, and they don't ever intentionally put my life at risk! You're not a bandit anymore, Nero, you were a fucking chef from the East who got summoned as a Sage's wizard! Now you're running off, throwing yourself into dangerous situations without any regards for your own life or how worried it makes me!"

"Brad wouldn't take me anywhere he didn't think we could handle it." Nero defends, and part of you is growing angry that he's so defensive of the Northern wizard. It makes you feel like he's disregarding everything you're saying. "You've known I was a bandit, I can't just throw that whole part of my life away."

"I'm not asking you to do that." You shake your head, sighing in exasperation. "But God, Nero, you can't just run into everything Bradley tells you to. You could've died-"

"What would that matter to you? Surely you could find someone else to replace me."

This makes you stop what you're about to say completely, eyes widening in horror as he seems to realize what he just said. It was like a volcano had erupted from inside of him, blurting out the most hurtful thing he could think to say without a single thought of the impact. He freezes, and before he can even apologize you're pointing at your door. "Out."

"(Name)-"

"If after all this time you think I wouldn't care if you died, or think I'm not saying this out of pure concern, get out my room and never come back in here."

"I didn't mean that-"

"Then why would you say that...?!"

He tenses when he hears the faint sound of your voice cracking, and he wants to beat his own ass when he sees how you're crying, mad at himself for being the one to cause that. He stands up, only to promptly be smacked in the face by one of your pillows, but he doesn't even bother complaining. He deserves that one, he knows it. He said it without thinking, and it wasn't right, but he needs you to let him verbalize this to you without lashing out on him. You were like a tornado, once you got started you just wanted to lash out and take your emotions out on something until you were calmed down, but again, he basically caused that form of response. You hit him with all the pillows on your bed before you were out of things to throw, your hands messily reaching up to rub your face. "Get out...!"

He doesn't say anything, instead silently walking towards you with an unreadable expression on his face. Since you were out of things to throw, your hand lifted as if you were about to hit him, but he gently catches both of your wrists in his hand, sitting on your bed and keeping his face level with yours. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that, so please forgive me."

God damn, you were so weak to him. Usually you would just yell, tell whoever it was to get out of your sight before you cursed them, but you can't do that. Not with Nero and certainly not with how gently he's looking at you. You let out an audible cry before pressing your face to his chest and his grip on your wrists weaken as your arms wrap around his neck. He sighs gently, his hand reaching out to rest on the top of your head and run gently down your scalp, trying to soothe you as best as he could as he mutters gentle apologies. "I don't want to control you, Nero..." Your voice is cracking as you speak, and he quietly rests his chin on top of your head as you say what you need to. "I just can't bear the thought of seeing you turned to stone, or having to worry about your mana stone, or having a funeral for you... I know you're strong, and I know you trust Bradley, but please... Please just tell me... Don't just run off..."

He's quiet for a moment before lifting his head off your chin, pressing his lips against your head. "Ok. I'll tell you from here on out, alright? And no matter what, I won't go anywhere I think I can't handle." Part of you wants him to promise to really settle your worries and make you 100% sure of his words, but that was selfish. That would be way too selfish to ask of him. Even just this was enough, for now. You could be ok with this. Your head nods against his chest, trying to calm yourself down.

You were a tornado, and he was a volcano. You were two natural disasters, just waiting to explode and wreck everything in your paths. But, maybe this one time, two disasters could do some good in the world. At least, that was your hope.

[volleychumps]

Heyy! Can you do one where Osamu, kuroo, akaashi and Tsukishima, say something mean to their s/o and their s/o avoids them for days? When they finally get ahold of their s/o, their s/o just sorta cries because it hit their insecure spot? Fluff in the end🥺

Listen, I can’t not write this. 

Irrevocable Words. 

- the one in which they accidentally make you give them the silent treatment because of their lashing out. -

~ Osamu Miya, Kuroo Tetsurou, Akaashi Keiji, and Tsukishima Kei~ 

TW: Cursing, angst to fluff, timeskip! for Osamu, 

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

Osamu Miya

“Those are important files, ya know?” 

“Samu, I’m sorry. You should’ve told me you needed last month’s earnings and I would’ve looked for them before we came this morning.” The hand you tried to settle onto Osamu’s bicep was shaken off as your movements faltered. 

Your voice wobbled at the sight of your stoic fiance, an annoyed glint in his eye as he rummages through his files. Osamu felt a flare in his stomach, a lack of sleep contributing to his impatient state. The day had been a busy one, Osamu deciding that he needed this particular file for his business call tomorrow before the two of you headed home for the night. 

“I told ya not to move anything back to the place.”

“I didn’t.” You bit the inside of your cheek. “Here, just let me help-” 

“Don’t touch a goddamn thing, I’ll do it myself.” There it was. The lashing out that was bound to happen occurred with a pointed tongue as he refused to look at you, rummaging through his file cabinets. “As I do everything else.” 

He closes the cabinet sharply. “The least ya could do is try your best not to be a nuisance-” 

Osamu flinches at the slam of one of the office desk drawers, chest sinking when he sees the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. The paper he needed is thrown on the desk carelessly as you shove your jacket on, wetness slipping down your cheeks.

“And I’m not your goddamn secretary. I’m heading home first.” 

“Y/N-” 

“And don’t worry, I promise I’ll manage to do this by myself somehow.” Your voice cracks bitterly, the bell by the door jingling mockingly in Osamu’s ears as you exit, the chef hanging his head with a sigh and regret tinging his chest.

He was wrong to pray this would blow over, not expecting to wake without your warmth by his side. You avoided him on the way to the restaurant, cleaning quietly while giving vague answers to his questions, shifting out of his attempts to embrace you with apologies. 

Deciding to give you space, he softly tells you to take the next few days off, unprepared for the tired look you had given him, simply nodding in response as you slipped into your side of the bed with your back turned to him.

“Where’s your pretty girlfriend?” 

“Fiance.” Osamu forces a smile at his two elderly regulars two days later, the wife’s smile widening at his correction. 

“Oho! Cherish each other while you youths still can, she really does brighten this place up, doesn’t she?” 

You do.

Osamu’s eyes feel hot as he does a messy job of cleaning up the restaurant, closing up shop early and stopping by your favorite bakery to pick up the ridiculously expensive cake he only ever buys for your birthday. 

Throwing the door open to your shared apartment hastily, you gasp at the gray-haired man’s sudden entry, dropping the spoon you were about to use to taste the dish you were making on the stove.

“Samu, y-you’re home early-” 

“What’s all this?” He tries to steady his breaths at the sight of a nicely prepared table, something you hardly ever got to share ever since the night shifts overtook your lives and caused a rift between the two of you. 

You’re silent for a second, looking away from his warm stare as you shift under his gaze. 

“...I miss you.” Dark eyes widen when you begin to hiccup over your words, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. “But I didn’t wanna be a nusciance-”

“Oh god, darlin’ no.” You’re pulled tightly into his chest as you cry, whole body shaking with tremors as Osamu’s inner turmoil merely increases.

If Osamu could go back in time and punch himself he would, unknowing of the torment he caused you over the past few days, thinking you just needed space. 

“I want to marry ya Y/N, I’m so sorry.” 

“I love you so much Samu.” You sniffle into his chest, causing him to smile softly, a hand sifting through your hair to hold you tighter to him. 

“I brought cake.” 

You laugh through the onslaught of tears. 

“And I made dinner.” 

“Then what are we waitin’ for?” 

“Just hold me like this for awhile?”

“Y/N.” He kisses the top of your head, finally feeling at ease with your figure in his arms. Osamu whispers a confession he hardly shared with you, wanting those words in particular to be special as he bridged the gap between the two of you.

“I love ya so much more, don’t you go forgettin’ it.”

Kuroo Tetsurou

“I said I was sorry!” 

“Is sorry supposed to just fix everything, Tetsurou?” 

“Tetsurou? Are you seriously withholding me from my nickname privileges?” 

You cross your arms at his attempt to make you laugh, thoroughly angry with the mess your boyfriend made of things as his smile fades at your peeved stare. 

“Look, what was I supposed to do?” 

“How about not leaving my parents waiting for you at the restaurant that you invited them to for another one of your spontaneous volleyball practices?” 

“I texted you I had to cancel!” 

“That was a half hour before we were supposed to meet, Kuroo! They were so excited to meet you they got there early. God, why can’t you ever take things seriously?” 

“You’re right.” A bitter chuckle slips Kuroo’s lips as you falter at the sudden tone change, the volleyball gym seeming bigger than ever as his next sentence makes your lips tremble.

“Since I can’t ever take things seriously, then I must not need my serious girlfriend then, right?” Your eyes widen. “I can just find somebody else who won’t fucking hound me all the time.”

His cat-like eyes widen as the words slip his tongue, unintentionally coming out crueler than he intended. To make it worse, you simply stayed silent, your body physically backing down and away from him as you turned on your heel. 

“Wait, I didn’t-” 

“Do it then.” His chest just about shatters as your shoulders tremble, refusing to turn back around as your voice takes on an uncharasterically defeated tone. “I hope they make you fucking happy.” 

Kuroo runs a hand through his raven hair frustratedly at the way you rushed out of the gym, throwing a stray ball so hard at the wall before his vision becomes skewed with heat. 

He should have expected the next week to be utter hell. You left class before he could catch you by escaping to the bathroom with all your things, leaving school another way instead of the exit you always took together before he had to start club activities. 

“Kenma, what are you doing?” 

“You can’t come in here.” 

“I’m missing class for this. Let me through.” 

“She doesn’t want to see you.” Kenma shrugged, eyes on his handheld. “I told her I’d watch the door so you can’t surprise her during our breaktime.” 

“I’m her boyfriend. And you’re not her guarddog.” 

“No, I’m her friend.” Kenma’s eyes narrow at his childhood friend. “And last time I checked, you’re on the search for someone who isn’t her.” 

“So she told you.” 

“Dick move, by the way.” 

Kuroo’s calls go straight to voicemail, his emotions affecting his playing with each passing day. He leaves little notes in your shoe locker to meet him, heart sinking more and more with every time you stood him up. 

And it wasn’t until he saw you smiling again at a joke Yaku made that he truly felt like he was losing you. 

“Go home.” 

The sight wasn’t one you were expecting to see, Kuroo sitting on the steps to your house with his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, the dark bags under his eyes sparking worry within you. 

“It’s probably better if my parents don’t see you-” 

“I’m sorry.” His eyes seem to have lost a little of their glint, regret swimming in the tall boy’s pupils as your guard softens. “I’m so goddamn sorry I ran my mouth and said shit I didn’t even mean-” 

“Tetsurou-” 

“And I hurt you in the process. I hurt the one thing that matters to me the most, and I’m sitting here playing the creepy ex that stalks the girl he loves-” 

“You love me?”

“Doesn’t matter, does it? You’re done with me, and I deserve it-” 

He’s cut off with the sight of tears hitting the wood in front of him, lifting his head to see tears streaking down your cheeks. On instinct, he reaches out softly, rising to his feet to cup your cheek, astonished when you curl into his touch. 

“I’m so fucking mad at you right now.” 

“Noted.” Kuroo laughs somberly, a wave of emotion hitting him as you do something you hadn’t done in days. 

You look him in the eye, tugging him closer by the sides of his jacket. 

“But I love you too, you absolute idiot.” 

Kuroo grins into the kiss you press onto his lips, heart lifting in weight as he pulls you closer. 

“Does this mean we can go back to Tetsu?” 

“I’m going back to ignoring you-” 

“No.” Kuroo’s tone turns serious as he holds you a little tighter. “I can’t do that again.” 

You smile as he presses a kiss to your temple lovingly. 

“Being away from you was complete and utter hell, sweetheart.” 

Akaashi Keiji

“Tell me how to make this right.”

“Right, Y/N.” Akaashi refused to meet your eyes as he loosens his school tie, not slowing his pace for you to catch up with as he throws the doors open to the volleyball club. The usually put-together setter had an angry glint in his eye that silenced his awaiting teammates. “Let’s just go back in time before you agreed to be his partner.”

“Hey hey, what’s going on you two?” Bokuto jogs up, his worried tone making your lips tremble even more at the sight of Akaashi’s turned back.

“I came to you as soon as he made a move! I didn’t let him-”

“There shouldn’t have been an opportunity for him to make a move in the first place.” Akaashi’s jaw clenched as you shuffle in place.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, you think I wanted him to try to kiss me?!” You fight the waver in your voice, standing your ground. “It was a project for class. I didn’t know his intentions-“

“I told you what his intentions were, but you never listen.” Akaashi turns hastily, startling you and causing you to stumble slightly backwards into Bokuto.

“Akaashi-“

“Stop defending her. She never listens to me, and then comes crying to me when it turns out I’m right.” Akaashi snips at his best friend, ignoring the silent stares from his quiet teammates. “Why can’t you get it through your head, Y/N? I’m not your goddamn babysitter-“

“You’re right.” You interrupt, fingernails biting into your palms as you choke back a sob. “You’re not, you’re my boyfriend. I just wanted to respect you by coming to you with something like this, but it turns out I’m just a hinderance.”

Akaashi falters for a second, blue eyes widening a fraction at the angry heat that fills your eyes as regret begins to bubble in his stomach at his harsh words.

“Y/N-“

“Give me some space, Keiji.” You say softly, patting Bokuto’s arm to let you through as your shoulders sink in a defeated manner. “I promise I won’t come crying to you about anything else.”

Your steps echo as you walk out of the gym, Konoha breaking the silence first when the door shuts behind you.

“Hate to say it, but that was well-deserved, man.”

Akaashi closes his eyes, head falling back towards the ceiling as he tries to steady his breathing, pretending like he wasn’t scared of you slipping through his fingers. He willed himself to not allow himself to chase after you, his anger directed towards you fading as he forces himself to respect your wishes. 

It was obvious you were avoiding him. Akaashi had blinked when Bokuto had self-proclaimed that he needed you as his “study buddy” during breaks when you weren’t even in the same year as the owlish boy. It got worse when you seemed to panic when Akaashi willed you to talk to him, eyes refusing to meet his watery blue ones as you pushed him further away.

So he gave you your space, wilting with each passing day. It wasn’t until he accidentally bumped into you a week later, the setter turning hastily on his heel to walk in the opposite direction before a soft tug on the back of his school shirt wills him to stop. 

“Keiji.” Your wobbly voice makes him turn back around immediately, a soft palm already cupping your cheek gently. “I’m s-” 

“I’m sorry for being cruel.” The words are whispered against your forehead, Akaashi’s heartstrings tugging in the worst way possible. “I was angry at the situation, my love. And that sorry excuse you call a classmate. Please,” 

His grip tightens just a little more as he feels wet warmth drip into the palm that was cupping your face.

“Forgive me.” 

“I told you I wouldn’t come crying to you-” 

“I want it all, Y/N.” Akaashi pulls back slightly, voice cracking slightly as blue stares intensely into your irises. “I want all of you. Tears included.”

You swat his chest playfully as Akaashi manages a soft smile, hand threaded through your hair as he presses you against his chest.

“Do you still need space?” He murmurs, and you smile at the sound of his hearbeat picking up as he awaited your answer fearfully. 

“Nope. The exact opposite, please hold me?” 

His embrace relaxes immediately, and your heart skips a beat at the sound of his relieved sigh, his slight nod making the weight lift off your chest. 

“Good, now I can take care of your classmate-” 

“Keiji-”

“Nope, my love.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, Akaashi’s eyes swirling with devotion. 

“No one gets to try anything with you so long as you’re safe with me.” 

Tsukishima Kei 

“So I’m the bad guy again.” 

“Do you want the honest answer, Kei?” You exhaustedly run a hand through your hair as Tsukishima’s scowl deepens, his long legs easily catching up with you in stride as he tugs on your wrist as the rambunctious court gets further and further away. 

“It’s not my fault you’re insecure.” 

You flinch. “Well maybe you shouldn’t let the girls in the stands cling to you after your matches. They were all over you, Tsukki! And you didn’t seem to mind it one bit.” 

“What?” Annoyance brims the blonde’s voice as he takes another step forward, clenching his jaw when he sees the quiver in your lip, distrust filling the atmosphere between the two of you. 

“Afraid that they’re prettier or better than you’ll ever be?” 

You feel as if the wind was knocked out of your lungs, breath catching in your throat at his insinuation. His guard slackens almost immediately, clicking his tongue before turning away, too proud to apologize for the words he regretted as soon as they slipped his tongue like venom. 

“Yeah.” You laugh humorlessly, making brown eyes dart over to your expression immediately. “You’re 100% correct. I am afraid you’ll find someone better than me in all aspects. Because I love you, you absolute asshole. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

The silence that befalls the two of you in the deserted hall is broken when you flinch away when Tsukishima tries to take a step towards you. 

“I didn’t-” 

“You never mean to do anything, Kei.” You say in a hushed tone, turning your back on him in an attempt to shield the hot tears slipping down your cheeks. “But you somehow always manage to.” 

The win for Karasuno didn’t mean much to the blonde that night, hoping that this would just go away and things would be back to normal. However, it was anything but. You didn’t look his way once in class, disappearing when it was over. Your voice trembled as you had avoided his seemingly stoic eyes through his frames, simply stating that you wished for some time away from him. 

He was fine. Or at least pretending to be on the outside. In truth, he would never find better, because you were it for him, words that you would never catch slipping his mouth. So he put on a front, pretending that your absence had zero effect on him whatsoever. Pretending the brush of your body against him in the hall as you pass each other didn’t make the blonde want to cave. 

It was the smile you shot at Hinata during one of your breaks that caused him to. The first glint in your eye in awhile, and it had been caused by him of all people, prompting the tall middle blocker to tug you by the forearm into the corridor.

“Tsukishima-” 

“I hate this.” 

You falter for a second, guard back up in a flash as your back touches the wall. “What did I do?” 

“You didn’t do anything, and it’s pissing me off.” 

“I don’t follow-” 

“I was wrong.” His forehead touches your shoulder as you stiffen before relaxing against his familiar touch. “I don’t care how many times I have to apologize. You win, okay? I’m sorry.” 

“This is a rather aggressive apology-” 

“Y/N.” Tsukishima lifts his head so it’s level with your height, unprepared for the way tears brimmed your eyes at the proximity, your guard diminishing. 

“What if you do find someone better one day, Tsukki?” Your voice cracks, inner fears trickling to the surface. “Do I need to prepare myself to lose you-?” 

You gasp as Tsukishima’s jaw ticks before kissing you intensely, his hand touching your lower back to pull you closer. 

“No. You don’t need to do something stupid like that.” His eyes were slightly glaring at you, a flush across both his cheeks. “Because there is no one better than you, okay?” 

It was your turn for heat to flood your cheeks as your eyes widen a fraction, his breath tickling your ear as you stutter. “Kei-” 

“I love you too. I said it, are you satisfied now?”  

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

General works: @takemetovalhalla  @faesbae  @savemesteeb @dreebbles @yams046   @let-me-have-my-own-name  @deadontheinsidebut @lifeisntjustblackandwhite   @curiouslilbeast  @aprettyfruit   @wisepandaslimeland   @h0ngh0ngh0ng   @lmkjimin   @orangegiraffe7   @dai-tsukki-desu   @kac-chowsballs   @spikertrash   @yamaguwuchi   @lord-suneater-explosion   @holaaaf  @babyybokutoakaashi   @lexysclubhouse   @disneyloving-muggle   @kuuuuroo   @theonep1ece  @that-chick212  @mjoork

[taechaos]

Web of Lies

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: Soyeon is honest, Taehyung is using his last breaths to tell you the truth, and Jungkook is lying. It seems that everything you know boils down to Jungkook lying.

warnings: angst, panic attack, dry humping, the TINIEST bit of fluff

word count: 4.3k

Obstacles are inevitable in relationships; there’s always something that must go wrong. They can come in the form of arguments, disagreements, actions, or people like Taehyung. One physical obstacle that always knows when Jungkook is with you.

A few days after the fight between the two close friends, Taehyung’s nose somewhat healed and Jungkook doesn’t shy away from you as frequently. What’s the point when the people he tried to hide you from found out about his relationship with you anyway? The only reason he doesn’t approach you every time he sees you is because: 1. He doesn’t enjoy being clingy; that would mean he likes being around you all the time which he refuses to admit. 2. You would probably get tired of him and stop loving him. 3. He kissed your friend who always sits next to you outside.

Now that he’s taking most of his opportunities to talk to you, and maybe kiss you, Taehyung is growing restless. Every time Jungkook is with you, so is Taehyung. Some. Fucking. How.

To name one of the busts: when Jungkook was kissing you in the university’s hallway two days ago, Taehyung popped in out of nowhere and shouted, “Get a room, you sluts!” It made for a good laugh between the students, especially when Jungkook ran after him out of the building. 

Another time is when Jungkook was watching you work in the yard and Taehyung joined you two to ask about that “one hot friend of yours”. You ended up telling him about Soyeon and Minnie while Jungkook glared at Taehyung that conveyed a clear message: Don’t. So, he didn’t. It didn’t have anything to do with getting elbowed when you weren’t looking.

It was because that would ruin the fun, and he has a sense of purpose while roaming the entire campus to make his fourth bust of the week. He’s searched the hot and empty spots, but he just can’t find the passionate couple anywhere. If he can’t keep disrupting their displays of affection, how will Jungkook get annoyed enough to spill the truth to you? You deserve that much, and if you still accept him, then Taehyung’s out of the picture.

Why can’t Jungkook see that?

For starters, one of the reasons is Jungkook is distracted and growing very irritated by the heavy stare he feels digging into his skin. Who the fuck is watching him? He thought it would be nice to keep you company in the main campus library by controlling your hand under the table over his clothed erection while you skim through your textbook for a light revision, but a pair of eyes behind a bookshelf won’t stop glaring into his soul through thick frames that he can’t see. 

He blows out a breath and screws his eyes shut. His jaw clenches and you immediately catch on, worriedly asking, “What’s wrong?”

“Someone’s fucking watching me and I can’t get off,” he grits. Your cheeks heat and grow crimson when you glance down at your occupied hand, palmed by his bigger one in a tight grip. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, “we can go to my dorm, if you’d like? Whatever you want.” In an act of comfort, you stupidly start caressing his length until he stands up. 

“Gotta confront the fucker.” 

Right when he raises his foot to take a step in the direction that his senses lead him to, Taehyung joins in on the mission. “Who are we confronting?” he asks casually with an arm over Soyeon’s shoulder, who is trying to suppress a grimace at the intervention. Jungkook glances at him and then your friend before sucking his teeth and rolling his eyes.

You grin brightly at the greeting and explain, “Someone's watching him. He’s going to find the stalker.”

“Might’ve been me, oops,” Taehyung raises his brows guiltily before slumping on a wooden chair adjacent to you, looking around the spacious area that makes him feel too loud. When he notices Soyeon still standing, he tells her, “come, sit,” and pats the seat next to him. She does so timidly. “Isn’t it so wonderful—”

“Why are you here?” Jungkook interrupts, but Taehyung continues, “—that we’re forming a friend group of our own? We’re all so familiar with each other.”

“Oh, Soyeon hasn’t met Jungkook yet.”

Taehyung narrows his eyes at you with a scrunch of his nose. “Sure about that?” Jungkook strides behind his chair and starts massaging his shoulders; a very harsh massage that has him holding back a wince. “Oh, Kook, that’s a bit rough. Tell me, is he like this in bed too?”

You gape at him in surprise, bashful because your lover doesn’t kiss and tell, and he doesn’t look too happy about it either.

“Tae…” Jungkook snarls.

“Well, is he, Soyeon?”

The library’s silence graces your table as everyone falls quiet, if you don’t count Taehyung’s groans at Jungkook’s bruising hold that is. Soyeon’s jaw drops and her eyes widen at the sudden switch in your gaze, searching for answers from her. “That’s not funny, Taehyung,” she breaks the silence with her blunt statement.

“Don’t mind him, baby, he has brain damage,” Jungkook spits and brings a hand up to Taehyung’s hair to yank it back. “I’m going to fucking kill you,” he whispers in his ear.

Your features begin to soften from its hard expression until Taehyung smiles wickedly at you. “Oh yeah, it wasn’t sex, was it? It was a tongue battle-” His voice cuts off the moment Jungkook starts choking him with his elbow, and his gags fall on deaf ears. Soyeon tries to push him off, but you’re just blank because Jungkook isn’t denying it; it was as if he was expecting it, trying to stop him all along. 

The sudden interest in your friend, the constant interruptions, the hits…

“Soyeon?” you call quietly with welling up tears. “Did you kiss him?”

Your best friend doesn’t lie, and apparently neither does Taehyung. Does Jungkook lie? You’re conflicted between living in bliss, ignoring the dying man in front of you because your boyfriend might have kissed Soyeon, and facing reality by asking the hard questions.

Her hands are still tugging on his shirt to save Taehyung, but her persistence weakens when she looks at you: guilty and… exposed? “I didn’t know it was him,” she confesses. It is indirect, and doesn’t reveal much except that she kissed the one man she wasn’t supposed to. 

“When?”

“The party,” Taehyung wheezes as he struggles against Jungkook’s arm, his nails drawing blood on his skin. His face is red from the lack of oxygen but he isn’t worried about dying.

“Oh, he put you up to this, didn’t he?” Jungkook speaks through clenched teeth to Soyeon. “They’re setting me up, and who the fuck is watching me?!” 

You stand up slowly and close your textbook with a soft thud, packing your materials so graciously. Your hands are shaking, but the tears blurring your vision don’t matter to you. Soyeon is honest, Taehyung is using his last breaths to tell you the truth, and Jungkook is lying. You sling your bag over your shoulder and trudge to the exit, counting your steps to calm down. You ignore Jungkook asking you where you’re going, Taehyung gasping for breath, and Soyeon telling him to leave you alone. It’s all muffled and you’re too sad to care.

It’s a case of he said she said, but your heart is siding with your friends with how painfully it pounds against your chest. Your trust in Jungkook couldn’t have been that fragile, could it? Why did it break with one sentence? 

Heavy footfalls follow you beyond the exit, but you’re too distracted by trying to move your legs steadily to notice. It isn’t important enough to distract you from someone calling your name though, or the light weight of a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hm?” you say without looking up, frozen in your steps.

“A-Are you okay?” A smooth voice asks.

“I’m a bit sad,” your voice cracks and wavers from holding back a meltdown, “hurt.” You want to recognize the blurred image of the man standing next to you, so you blink and a tear sheds from each eye. “I told you to never talk to me again, Jimin.” You feel overwhelmed, and yet the memory of the blackmail has little impact on your mess of emotions, but it doesn't help you feel better either.

“Sorry,” he breathes, “I still don’t understand why, but you can do the talking for me. Wh-what happened?”

“Why do you ask? So you can use that against me too?” you scoff through the lump in your throat. Confusion washes his soft features, so you add, “maybe another handjob for it?” You shrug off his hand and continue your walk of shame. 

“I-I’ve never used anything against you, what are you talking about?” He’s chasing after you and it’s a bit of help in swaying your thoughts in a different direction, and your emotions towards anger and disbelief instead.

“Does a video ring a bell? The one you threatened to leak if I didn’t touch your…” You groan to yourself and quicken your pace towards your dorm. Maybe you could mope comfortably in there without the annoying presence of an arch enemy, who is feeding you more lies than you’re capable of consuming in one day. 

“What? I never— Listen, I deleted that video the second I received it. Whoever told you that was lying, please!”

It seems that everything you know boils down to Jungkook lying. His love was a lie too, apparently. Maybe the Jungkook you know is just one big fat lie who can’t seem to tell you the truth in any moment you’ve been with him. How many times do you need to hear from others and yourself that Jungkook is lying?

“I know,” you whimper and run off.

Once Taehyung catches his breath after coughing for a minute straight with a fresh bruise blossoming on his neck, he interrupts the hushed argument between Jungkook and Soyeon by asking, “Where’d she go?”

“I don’t know, but you’re going straight to hell once I fucking kill you for good,” Jungkook fumes with flushed cheeks. 

“If you die by murder, you go straight to Heaven. How do you not know this?” His voice is low from the assault and his throat aches, but he still attempts to lighten the mood. 

“I swear to fucking God, Taehyung—” Jungkook stops his threat when he sees Soyeon sneakily walking away. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“Air,” Soyeon vaguely answers.

“Bullshit.” Jungkook tries to go after her, wanting to be the first to find your dorm so she doesn't say more about that night, but Taehyung holds onto his wrist to stop him. 

“She needs time—”

“Fuck off.”

When Jungkook begins to walk off after yanking off his hand, Taehyung immediately searches around the room and takes out a pen from a cup on the reception desk before jumping Jungkook from behind just as he was about to leave. They struggle against each other and start rolling around, but Taehyung is driven by adrenaline as he grounds himself on top of him. He holds him down with his legs and uncaps the pen to start writing on his forehead.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Everyone in the library peeks at the commotion due to Jungkook’s loud yell, but neither of them pay mind as he tries to move away from the pen.

“See if she takes you seriously with dick written on your forehead,” Taehyung chuckles before sprinting off with him hot on his tail. Jungkook is stronger, but Taehyung is much faster as he loses him pretty quickly by hiding in an occupied lecture hall. The professor looks at him questioningly but he thinks fast and breathlessly asks the students, “Is Jeon Jungkook here? The headmaster is looking for him.” Some people search for him, but when no one makes a peep, he escapes the room and Jungkook’s wrath.

Now to go to your dorm before Jungkook scrubs off the ink…

“I didn’t know his name,” Soyeon murmurs while fidgeting with her fingers. When she came in the room, you were muffling your sobs with your pillow and all she saw was your jerking shoulders. She tried to comfort you, to hug you, but you weren’t exactly being friendly, and the setting is pretty much the same except she’s sitting on your bed while you still cry. “I asked people what he looked like, but it was just a description of every guy in the room. He wasn’t around for them to point at, and so I thought maybe he didn’t come. Then this guy kisses me on this couch, feels guilty about it, and tells me his name. I-I didn’t know it was Jungkook. He left for you anyway…”

Her attempt at consolation is fruitless because it only makes you cry harder. She rubs your back soothingly before standing up. “I’ll check up on you later. Let me know if you need anything, okay?” You nod against your stained pillow. 

The moment she opens the door, Taehyung’s fist misses her head by an inch. “Oops,” he says before gently pushing her aside by her shoulder and entering. His eyes fall on your fetal position first thing and he pouts at you. “Aw, baby—”

“She doesn’t want to talk right now.”

“I’m good company,” he dismisses her with a flick of his wrist, “you can go.”

She rolls her eyes before shutting the door, and it’s only you and him now. Your hiccups fill the room as he sadly watches you, a quiet sigh leaving his mouth. “I tried to tell you. Well, I tried to get him to tell you.”

“Y-You said,” you snivel against the sheet, “th-that he was whipped for me.”

I said that to get you to open up. Even in his head it sounds cruel, so he rethinks his response with a grimace. “Jungkook told me he liked you.” Maybe shifting the blame wasn’t exactly much better, especially since he told him that after the claim, but you have enough on your plate.

“H-He told me he loved me,” you hiccup, releasing your death grip on the poor pillow. It’s a mask rather than a silencer now. Taehyung widens his eyes to himself and purses his lips. He takes Soyeon’s former seat and turns you on your back. His heart sinks a little when he sees your face: red nose, heavy lids, bloodshot eyes and quivering lips with messy hair. You look really pretty to him right now. “He lies so much. H-He even made me give Jimin a handjob.”

“Made you?” he repeats with his thumb drawing circular patterns on your collarbone. 

You nod. “It’s a long story, and I don’t want to talk about it. It was horrible.”

His brows furrow at your tone. “That’s so fucked up... Man, you need to avoid him.”

“Jimin?”

“Jungkook. That’s too twisted, even for him. You’re an angel…” his palm reaches for your cheek and his thumb continues its soothing motions. “You didn’t deserve it.”

“Thank you,” you mouth and fresh tears brim as you try to swallow. It feels like you’re sick all over again, except there’s no misunderstanding to clear this time. He wipes a stray teardrop and smiles down at you; it’s a relaxing gesture. You close your eyes and hold onto his wrist, snuggling into his warm hand.

“I sound really cheesy, don’t I?” he chuckles. “Can’t lie, wish I had someone call me an angel after I caught my ex cheating on me.”

An involuntary giggle erupts from your mouth at his joke. “You’re an angel, Taehyung. An angel in disguise.” You peek at him before fluttering your eyes shut again. A pursed smile graces his lips, and he’s convinced he isn’t interested in you romantically, that it was just an invisible force drawing him closer to you, that he wasn’t the one aiming for your lips until a pound on the door resounds in the room.

You flinch away from his hand and he pulls back instantly; both of your heads shoot to the source of the noise. 

“Open up!” Jungkook yells and continues fisting the door. “Open the fucking door!” Taehyung holds a finger against his lips, signalling you to stay silent until he leaves. “I want to talk. Open the door… please.” Neither of you say anything.

“Fine,” he agrees, “don’t talk. I’ll talk, but at least give me a sign that you’re here.” Before Taehyung can stop you, you rush to the door and knock once. You hear him slide down the door, presumably leaning his back against it and sitting on the floor. “Okay. I’m sor— They were lying—” you slam your fist against the door in denial. “Okay! But they weren’t telling the whole truth back there. I was um… on drugs. I was really fucking high, okay?”

“Yet your high-self still managed to yell at me! Clearly you weren’t high out of your mind,” you snap menacingly. He flinches at your sudden shut-down; he’s never heard you yell at him before, nor has he ever been the victim of your anger. It makes his heart drop.

“That was like, three hours after I got high! I was practically sober, plus, you weren’t talking to me that day!”

“I had lost my voice! I didn’t want you to get sick—"

“I DIDN’T FUCKING KNOW THAT!” 

He gulps at your silence and inhales a deep breath to calm down. He hears you sniffle on the other side. “I-I didn’t know that. You wouldn’t kiss me, wouldn’t talk to me, and I didn’t know why. I thought you stopped loving me and… that really upset me.” He sighs to himself because he’s never opened up so honestly and it’s difficult, but he doesn’t exactly have a choice. It just feels so embarrassing.

Taehyung opens the window of your dorm and climbs out. You don’t see or hear it happen, too invested in your argument to even remember his existence. “Do you remember what I told you the night we did it for the first time?”

His face scrunches as he tries to replay the events beside the sex. The corner of his lip tugs upwards when he recalls you calling him a slut, but he’s still clueless as to why you’re bringing it up. You don’t leave him in the dark for long. “I told you I wouldn’t forgive you a second time.” He gnaws on his lip as his palms feel clammy with nervous sweat. 

“W-We weren’t dating then,” he tries to justify. “I didn’t need forgiveness then. You’re so unfair!” He stands up and knocks with his fist again. “Let’s talk it out face to face, I’ll explain everything. You’re putting me at a disadvantage! Don’t you want clarity? Don’t you want this to work out?!” He starts chanting your name when you don’t answer. “I will break down this fucking door if you don’t open it,” he doesn’t sound nearly as intimidating as he usually does when threatening; he sounds more like he’s a second away from breaking down himself. “No, no… please. I-I’ll kiss another girl if you break up with me! You don’t want that, right? So just open the door.” 

His tough façade crumbles the longer you ignore him, and he can’t believe the heavy weight he feels all over his body wants to leave in the form of tears. It stings in his eyes but he doesn’t dare let them fall. “You’re so fucking cruel!” He twists the door handle violently; desperately. A dry sob escapes him as he kicks the door one last time. “Oh God, oh God…” he tries to breathe but it doesn’t enter his lungs. It’s like being choked with a noose as he gasps and a tear runs down his cheek. His wheezes become so loud that you start hearing them and grow concerned.

You consider the possibility that it’s one of his tactics, trying to manipulate you, but you open the door anyway. It’s a slight crack and you barely get a look at him before he pushes it open completely and forces his way in. He sits on your bed and his shoulders hunch, breaths still shallow. “I didn’t mean it. I don’t like her, never did, I only— I was mad, and I couldn’t go through with it, and I’ve never shown you affection b-because I’ve only ever received it from you—” you hush his rambling with a hug, but he continues with his head against your stomach anyway, “I’ve never been in a relationship and I’m a fucking mess and I understand why you wouldn’t want to be with me, but please don’t leave me. I’ll do my homework, I’ll stop being mean, I won’t even talk if you don’t want me to, but please don’t stop talking to me.”

“Jungkook…” you trail in shock. “I’m here. Take a deep breath.” When he tries, it’s so shaky that it makes you tear up for the umpteenth time. You’re a mess with him. “In and out, love, in and out.” You would do it with him like an instructor, but it’s not possible when he’s squeezing your waist so tightly. It takes a few minutes for him to relax his grip and he looks up at you pitifully. “It’s okay,” you assure and pet his hair, “you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry. I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you most,” he exhales. “I mean… I realized that night, that I only want to be with…”

“I get it,” you whisper to comfort him, knowing he has struggles with expressing himself, but he doesn’t stop. He wants to get it off his chest, and he quietly tells you, “I kissed another girl when I wanted to make you jealous, and then another to forget. I don’t want to do that, I mean I only want to kiss… you.”

You initiate it first by leaning down to peck his lips, and you don’t pull away too far. You peck him again, and then start kissing him. He’s never been this slow with you before, but the panic attack must have drained him. It’s the way that he doesn’t immediately turn it heated with the intent of taking it to the third base that warms your heart. He’s hesitant and taking his time, mindful of your reactions because you’re in control for once. You’re aware of how vulnerable he is being with you, and he conveys that with the gentle press of his lips. 

He whimpers into the kiss, and it’s so quiet and mournful that you lean back but he chases after you. He doesn’t want to stop like you’d assumed, so you place your knees on either side of him and hover over his thighs. Even his hands are hesitant as he lightly sits you down on his lap by pulling your waist. You smile against him and with his submission, you swipe your tongue across his lip. He opens for you. You roll your tongue around his, and he eventually begins to suck on yours. There’s a pit in your stomach that confuses you; is it arousal? Flattery? You feel so special because you know he hasn’t been like this with anyone else; so powerless and passive.

It’s passionate. You inch your body a little closer to him and he grunts when you brush against his crotch before settling down. This isn’t about sexual needs, and you don’t treat it as such but your body has a mind of its own with its constant shuffling that turns him on. He doesn’t want to feel that way, but his hips have a subtle way of thrusting beneath you. His hums rumble and you kiss him harder, losing all your senses except for the warmth of his skin. You don’t notice him controlling the movement of your hips because he’s taking it slow, and you don’t need to know why he’s quietly moaning into you.

At least no one’s watching him now. 

You pull back in surprise when he groans loudly, and you know he’s back to himself as his actions grow rough. You’re practically jumping when he grinds on you with his spit all over your mouth because of his explorative tongue. From past experience, you’ve figured out that Jungkook is more honest when he’s in the heat of the moment, so you inquire against his lips, “Why did you lie to me about Jimin?”

“That fucking freak,” he growls, “I needed a reason to get you to hate him. He didn’t stop you when it happened, did he?” 

Still manipulative. “Will you do the same with Taehyung?”

“No, I,” his thrusts slow down, “I’m gonna, err…” He looks at you for help.

“You’re gonna be a good boy and talk things out with him, right?”

“Right,” he breathes, “talk.” He slams his lips against yours again, and it’s not long before he sighs at his climax with your cooperation. There’s a small patch growing on his pants through his underwear, and he cusses when he notices it. He pecks you one last time before hugging you and laying on the bed, cuddling you like a blanket. “Do you forgive me?” 

You rest your head on his chest and feel his pulse to contemplate. He brings a hand up to your hair and starts running his fingers through it, unbothered by your lack of answer. “I’ll make it up to you,” he says. “Do you…” he clears his throat, “do you maybe want to have dinner with me?”

“Like a date?” you tease with a grin.

“Yes.”

“There’s my answer,” you lift your head to wink up at him. “But if you test me again, I’ll break your heart just as you did mine. Don’t worry though,” you whisper, “I’ll never leave you.”

[mxpseudonym]

Not Good Enough

Pairing: Luca Changretta x OC (or she/her pronouns reader)

Summary: Luca decides it's time to call it quits before anything dangerous happens. Of course, he hasn't quite thought through how this would go.

Length: 993

Warnings: None

A/N: I love that these are getting longer and longer 😂. This is the same OC from Get a Real Hobby and I Don't Like You, I Just Want You Here Forever.

(By the way, I didn't realize the major plot hole of where exactly does OC live? I don't know how to fix it other than just saying she lives in her own secure luxury apartment that Luca pays for and basically lives in as well cause he's always there. She'll eventually live with Luca.)

--

She knew when he called her by her first name that something was wrong. It had been ages since Luca had called her anything but Blossom. She almost thought he'd forgotten her name altogether.

"What? What is it?"

She walked slowly from her place at the living room entry to where he sat on her couch, elbows on his knees and hands clasped in prayer. Her heart was thumping loudly, preparing for anything.

"Maybe, maybe we shouldn't get married," Luca said.

She sighed and dropped the bags she held before sitting next to him and placing a hand on her chest.

"Jesus Christ, Luca, you can't scare me like that. And what the fuck are you talking about? Of course, we're getting married," she scoffed, smacking his arm. Under any other circumstance, he'd laugh and tease her for declaring it so clearly and proudly before him. But today was different.

"Listen. My family, we've got trouble, alright? My brothers have made a mess of things overseas. Worse than my mess with the robbery before I got here. I told you about that, didn't I?" He asked.

"Uh-huh," she nodded. Luca told her everything. She gave him a look that told him to get to the point.

"My cousins are stirring things up with the local gangs. I heard some of these kids don't care about honor. They'll take down whoever. I'm not letting that happen to you, alright? You can keep the apartment, and I'll take care of you. You don't have to worry about anything."

Luca included the promise while keeping his eyes on the leather shoes she'd helped him pick out that morning. There was a pause before she huffed, shaking her head.

"That's not good enough," she said quietly.

"What,"

"That," she stopped him, loud and firm now as she stood. "That is not good enough. It wouldn't be good enough on an average day, but it's definitely not good enough today when I just spent hours with your mother, promising her I'll be a good wife to her son and proving that I can cook. By the way, I almost divulged a secret family recipe for you, okay? Come spring, you're meeting me at St. Bernadette's, and we're getting married in that church."

Luca looked at her in some surprise. They always kidded, and he, for the most part, knew she loved him. But a tiny part of him that could be real loud sometimes, thought she'd jump at the chance not to marry him. At the very least, he thought she'd be okay postponing it. But spending the day with his mother on her own accord? Exchanging recipes? What was this side of her?

"Are you hearing me?" He asked anyway.

"Unfortunately so. I've been sitting here hearing you give up. I'm hearing you be a coward. You are a lot of things, Changretta, but chicken? That's new," she tsked, turning away from him.

She faced the other side of the room and placed a hand over her chest as discreetly as she could. She'd likely never admit it, but the pang she felt in her chest at the idea of walking out for the apartment without Luca was unbearable. How dare he make her love him and then do something like this? She heard him moving until he placed his warm hands on her shoulders.

"You are most important to me."

"And do you protect things you'll cherish from a distance?"

"If you were hurt,"

"Like now?"

There was silence until he let out a sigh. She could feel him trembling with aggravation and turned to reason with him only to find him laughing to himself.

"Why are you laughing, you sick monster?" She grimaced and moved away from Luca in case he was losing his mind before her very eyes. His husky laugh, the one she loved and reminded her of home, eased her while he rubbed his temples.

"I cannot believe I've found a woman who is so stubborn she won't let me leave her. As if it was your idea to get married in the first place."

"For fuck's sake." She rolled her eyes and moved to walk past him, only for Luca to sweep her into his arms.

"You're smart, huh?" He asked. She nodded immediately.

"I'd say so."

"Then I'm trusting you're thinking this through. I told you the problem, and you'd rather be with me instead of safe somewhere." He reminded her of what she was giving up. And still, she nodded without hesitation.

"If safe means all your hard work in getting me to stay with you goes out the window, and I lose something important to me, then I don't want it."

"Alright," Luca agreed. All he needed was her to say it.

Luca leaned down and pulled her into a kiss. He'd never stop worrying. But something told him that any person willing to go after the love of his life would have hell to pay. She was no docile thing, which was only proven when she moved away from him all too soon.

"And never say that to me again. You come home, and you tell me that you had a bad day, and we talk about it. Don't go deciding shit like that on your own," she scolded him, pressing her manicured nail into his chest. Luca grabbed her hand, pulling her into his chest with a chuckle.

"Yes, ma'am," he murmured against her cheek between kisses. He could feel her face warm from his caresses even as she told him he was too silly. She mumbled into his shirt, and he leaned back. "What was that?"

"That's not my name," she said with furrowed brows and a slight pout. He had to bite down on his knuckle not to laugh out loud. When she was this adorable, it went straight to his heart.

"You're a fucking riot, Blossom."

"Yeah, I am. And you're gonna be Mr. Blossom whether you like it or not."

"Yeah. Yeah, I am."

—

Mx Any Taglist: @cactisjuice

If you're a follower and would like to be on a taglist, please message me via dms or asks. You can be on a list for a specific character, for smut, or for any time I post.

[mypoisonedvine]

The Wrong Idea (part 2) | Lee Bodecker x Reader

(read part 1 here)

summary: your relationship with your stepfather only becomes more tense, and both of you know you can’t avoid him forever.

word count: nearly 5.8k

warnings: smut (heavy dubcon/noncon, and a few consensual encounters), stepcest, pain kink, daddy kink, groping, semi-public sex, a bit of pregnancy/breeding kink (just through dialogue), stockholm syndrome/sympathy for the abuser, grooming (hence the thing before this one), a bit of violence including use of a gun, a bit of housewife kink?

Jimmy O’Doyle was sweet, and handsome; tall, and strong, and with this gorgeous blonde hair that he either styled relentlessly or just somehow dried perfect on its own.  Sure, his nose was a little big, but you found it endearing, especially when his smile was even bigger. 

Most of the girls in Knockemstiff had a crush on Jimmy— maybe it was his looks, maybe it was the fact that he drove one of the nicer cars in town— but he was either oblivious or uninterested.  He seemed to keep to himself most of the time, though he'd always be polite and carry conversation if you approached him.

Well, not you.  You never approached him.  It made you a little too nervous.

Therefore, you had no plan when he approached you after church one Sunday.  You didn't even realize he knew your name, until he used it to get your attention with a tap on your shoulder.

"Oh, hey Jimmy," you mumbled back, looking up at him and chewing your lip.

"I like your dress," he informed you with a tilted smile.  You looked down at it— yellow, with a white gingham on the skirt— and felt your face getting a little warm.

"Oh, this?  Thanks, um, it was a gift from— from my stepdad."

"Oh, was it your birthday?"

You shook your head.  "Not for a few more months, he just bought me something to be nice."

Jimmy nodded, and there was an uncomfortable silence before you suddenly blurted out: "I like your tie!"

"Thanks!” he beamed.  “I got it when I went to—”

"Time to go, sweetie," your mother interrupted to inform you, motioning to the parking lot where Sheriff Bodecker was opening the driver's side door of his patrol car.  (Yes, he drove the three of you to church in the fucking patrol car.)

"Just a minute, mama," you smiled back.  “What were you gonna say?” you asked Jimmy.

“Uh, I was just gonna ask you somethin’...”

“Well, what is it?”

He scratched the back of his neck, looking away for a moment.  “Just if maybe you wanted to, uh, go for a drive sometime or somethin’...”

“A drive?  Yeah, sure,” you smiled, feeling a giddy nervousness bloom in your stomach.  “I’d like that.”

“Yeah, me too,” he nodded.  “I’ll pick you up tonight?  At 7?”

You pictured Jimmy appearing at the door with your mother and Lee sitting in the living room.  “Um, no, I’ll meet you somewhere.  At the corner of Bailey and Hillside?”

“All right,” he smiled.

“I’ll be the one in a yellow dress,” you winked.

“I’ll be the one in the blue Cadillac,” he grinned.

Your mother called to you again and you waved goodbye to Jimmy, feeling your cheeks warm as he waved back.  

“What was that all about?” she asked as you got into the back seat.

“Oh, he was just asking if I’d wanna join the choir,” you lied quickly.  

“Well I hope you said no!  I wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself,” she smiled.

“Of course, mama,” you nodded, shooting Lee a glance that said ‘do you see how she is?’

He looked back just for a second before starting the car, and you knew he understood better than most.

//

You had a plan to tell your mother and stepfather that you were going to meet some friends for dinner, but they never even asked where you were going.  Certainly made it easier to slip out and begin your walk to the corner where you planned to meet your date.  

You had your yellow dress on like you said you would, but you didn't wear the white cardigan that you had on over it at church that morning.  It was a warm night anyhow, but you hoped it would be a little more mature without it.  Not revealing or anything, but a little more daring.

Hopping into Jimmy’s passenger seat made you feel like the most special girl in the world, though you knew it wasn’t actually that big of a deal.  You let yourself get excited anyway.  

The conversation was pleasant, if nerve-wracking.  At first, you kind of hoped some other girls in town would see you in his car and get jealous, but as you two got to talking and you appreciated the scenic drive, it wasn’t so important to you anymore.  Jimmy asked where you wanted to go.  You just told him to go anywhere.  You weren’t exactly offended when he decided to take you to the closest thing Knockemstiff had to a ‘makeout point’: it was just a nice park that had a lot of open space and a cute little creek down the middle.  Knowing what this implied, you felt your face warm up slightly.

“Is it okay if we just sit in here and talk for a bit?” Jimmy asked gently.  “I rather like getting to know you.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you nodded, “I like talking to you, too.”

It went on like that for a while, talking about all sorts of things that were mostly unimportant.  Jimmy went on a bit of a ramble about baseball, which you normally found terminally boring; it was interesting when he talked about it with so much passion, though.  And he returned the favor by listening to you talk about politics which was probably just as boring to him.  

“I’ve never known a girl who knew so much about the world,” he said, seeming impressed.

“I don’t think I know that much,” you shook your head, “I just listen to the radio.”

“I listen to the radio, too, but it must not be the same station as you,” he laughed.

An awkward, but not necessarily uncomfortable, silence fell over the car.  You wanted to make a move, but you didn’t know how.

“Maybe we could turn on the radio now,” you suggested.

“All right,” he jumped up, leaning forward and turning his car radio on.

And dear, I wonder if you find love an optical illusion, too? 

“Oh, I love this song,” you admitted.  “I don’t have a record player, but I think if I did I’d only have Billie Holiday records.”

“You should come over sometime, I have a lot of records,” Jimmy offered.

“Does that mean we’ll have a second date?” you asked hopefully.

“Does that mean we’re having a first date, right now?” he returned.

“I was sort of hoping so,” you smiled nervously.

“So was I,” he agreed.

Are the stars out tonight?  I don’t know if it’s cloudy or bright…

Your mind wandered as you feared that somehow, Jimmy would see right through you— see who you really were.  And if he did that, he’d never want you.  You knew that.  You figured Sheriff Bodecker would go out of his way to make sure you knew that, if he ever found out this was going on.  But he wasn’t going to find out, you decided, because he had no way of knowing and you were grown anyhow.  

‘cause I only have eyes for you…

When you snapped out of your thoughts, you realized Jimmy was leaning in towards you; and though you felt oddly guilty for no good reason at all, you closed the gap and kissed him.

It was gentle and sweet, nothing like the kisses you were used to.  Some materialistic, status-conscious part of you (probably the part that was related to your mother) was over the moon to be kissing the most popular young man in the whole town.  Most of you, though, was just happy to be kissing a boy that you liked, and that liked you back.

And secretly, a very teeny tiny part of you was thinking of someone else.

“You are so beautiful,” Jimmy whispered into the kiss.

“Really?  You think so?” you whispered back, smiling.

“Everybody does,” he answered as if it were obvious.  

You kissed him deeper, the smallest moan slipping out as his hands moved over your waist.  You gasped a bit when his hands moved to grab your breasts.

“Is this okay?” he asked quietly.

You nodded and kissed him again, whimpering softly as his hands massaged you through your dress.

Arousal was starting to awaken between your legs, and you felt your hips pushing down against the seat a little harder, seeking stimulation.  Gingerly, your hand started to slide up his leg, and you both gasped when you felt his erection underneath the corduroy.

He quickly took his hands off you to open up his trousers, pulling his cock out and sighing a bit when your hand wrapped around it.

You could tell it wasn’t as big as the Sheriff’s— not as long or as thick— but it still felt good in your hand, and Jimmy still looked beautiful with that look of pleasure and shock on his face.

“Damn, you’re…” Jimmy moaned, almost in disbelief, as you started to stroke him.  “You’re incredible.”

“Touch me again,” you pleaded gently, biting your lip when he reached up to pull the top of your dress down a bit— just enough to expose your tits and grab them again.

You got lost in the moment, with how good his hands felt on you, and how nice it was to kiss him, and how much you wanted him to come all over your hand.  So lost, in fact, that neither of you noticed a car had pulled up behind his until there was a tap at your window.

It was the Sheriff, shining a flashlight into the car.

“Shit!” Jimmy gasped, shoving you away and tucking himself back into his trousers while you pulled up your dress to cover yourself and turned off the radio.  Your stomach sank and you thought you could probably vomit right then and there.  

“Roll down the window, please,” Lee requested, and you awkwardly cranked the handle until it was halfway down.

“I’m sorry, Sheriff, it was—” Jimmy began to explain.

“What do you want?” you interrupted, glaring at Lee.

“Just wanna make sure you’re both alright,” he answered sternly.  “It’s gettin’ pretty late.”

“It’s not even ten,” you announced with crossed arms, “and you aren’t supposed to be workin’ tonight.”

Jimmy stared at you with wide eyes, somewhere between impressed and terrified that you were standing up to the Sheriff.

“I’m gonna have to ask you to step out of the vehicle, ma’am,” Lee snarled.  You sighed and rolled up the window again; Lee stepped out of the way so you could open your door as you got out.  “You, stay in the car,” he instructed Jimmy, who nodded fearfully.

The second you shut the door, Lee was pressing you back into the side of the car and staring you down.  You were terrified of him, actually, but you refused to show it.

You whispered to him harshly, hoping Jimmy wouldn’t hear your exchange.  “Go.  Away.” 

Lee chuckled, in an angry sort of way.  “Givin’ some schoolboy a tug in his car, huh?  In the dress I bought you?  Thought you were better than that.”

“It’s none of your business,” you asserted.

“Everything that happens in this town is my business,” he replied, “and everything that happens to you is my problem.”

“It wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t a jealous creep who followed me around,” you hissed.

Jimmy stepped out of the car, and both of you turned to look back at him.

“Everything alright?” he asked, and you weren’t sure if he was asking you or Lee.

“Can’t say that it is,” the Sheriff shook his head.  “Way I see it, this is public indecency for the both of you.”

“Sir, we didn’t mean to—”

“I’ll let you off with a warning,” Lee told Jimmy with a disappointed frown.

“Thank you, Sheriff,” you mumbled.

“Not you,” he turned back to you with a sigh.  “I'm afraid I'll have to detain you.  Can't give you special treatment just cause you're family.”

“What?!” you squawked.

“You heard me, girl.  Hands behind your back."

“You can’t be serious,” Jimmy protested. 

“Didn’t I tell you to stay in your vehicle?” Lee remembered angrily, and Jimmy hesitated but obeyed.

As he cuffed your wrists, his hand drifted downward, cupping your ass and giving it a firm squeeze.

"Lee, don't…" you pleaded softly, "not here."

"Not here?” he whispered against your ear, making you shiver.  “Then where, princess?  You're never at home anymore.  When am I s'posed to make my girl feel good, huh?  When are you gonna take care of me?"

"You can take care of yourself," you grimaced.

"Oh, I do.  After your ma falls asleep," he chuckled.  "I get my cock off all by myself, thinking about you and your tight fuckin' hole."

You whimpered as he started to gather your skirt, rubbing his hands on your legs underneath.

"And what's this with you calling me Lee?  You know it's Sheriff in public, and Daddy at home."

“I’m sorry, Sheriff, I was just—”

“Come on, let’s get you to the car,” Lee grumbled as he roughly guided you to his patrol car, all but tossing you into the back.  

“Where are you gonna take her?” Jimmy asked as he leaned out of his window, not seeming to have noticed the way Lee was touching you but still obviously uncomfortable.

“Home,” was all Lee replied as he got in the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut.

Of course, as he started to drive, you realized that was a lie.  He drove down winding roads in tense silence, until he pulled into a clearing in the woods and turned off the engine.

“You fucked up real big tonight,” he informed you as he turned back to look at you through the caged partition.

You just looked at your skirt, that damned yellow and white gingham that had gotten you into this mess.  

“Get out, get in front of the car, and bend over the hood.”

He leaned back to open the door for you from the inside, and you shivered from the sudden blast of cool night air.  Lee watched you through the windshield with a dark glare as you walked around the car and laid yourself down over the hood.  The metal was cold; cold enough to seep through your clothes and make you shiver.  The whole world looked sideways when you saw it from this angle, but truthfully, your whole world felt completely upside down. You just waited like that for a moment— and it was the best he’d ever done to make you feel worthless, having you wait patiently for him to do what he was about to do to you.

Eventually, he stepped out with a gruff instruction not to move.  When his form was no longer visible in your peripheral vision, you felt him pressed up against the back of your legs as your skirt started to slide up.

“I try to be nice to ya,” he grunted, “treat you right, buy you things.  And what does it get me, huh?”

You didn’t say anything, because you were sure anything you would say would just make it worse.  With your skirt flipped up completely now, you could feel the cold autumn breeze on your legs as he pulled your panties to the side.

“I’m startin’ to think that kindness doesn’t go very far with you.  You like it best when I’m mean, dontcha?”

His belt made that terrible clinking sound as he opened it, and you felt his cock rubbing through your folds.

“Normally I would get you wetter first, but I think this’ll just have to do tonight.”

He pushed forward and it fucking burned.  You cried out, breathing through your teeth as you tried to bear the pain.  Behind your back, your nails dug into your palm.

He didn’t slow down at all, though, and fucked you faster and harder in spite of the sting.  Determined to get a reaction, he slapped your ass, too.

“Daddy!” you sobbed.  “It hurts!”

“You could’ve avoided it,” he yelled angrily.  “It didn’t have to be like this, but you wanted to act like a fuckin’ whore, and now you’re gettin’ treated like one.”

“I’m sorry!” you cried, wet tears warming the cold metal of the car beneath you. “I’m so sorry, daddy!”

Lee grabbed your hips tighter, surely enough to bruise.  Disturbingly, you felt yourself getting more aroused— it made it less painful physically, but so much more painful mentally.

“Told ya you like it rough,” he laughed.  “You’re already clenchin’ on me, I can tell you’re gonna come.”

You tried to shake your head, but he was right.  He reached up and pulled your hair roughly, making you yelp.  Even that made a pleasant tingle run down your spine, despite the fact that it hurt so much.

“You’re so fuckin’ close, princess,” he groaned, leaning down and watching your face closely, “you’re gonna come for your daddy, right fuckin’ now.”

You heard a twig snap before you knew what it was.  "What the fuck?!" another voice called out.

It was Jimmy, standing off just a few feet away in disbelief.  You closed your eyes, unable and unwilling to look at him in this moment.  Lee just sighed as he slipped out of you, stuffing his cock back into the pants of his uniform and zipping back up.  "You didn't see anything, kid."

"You… you're…” Jimmy stammered, “that's your stepdaughter!  The hell is wrong with you?"

"I said," Lee growled as he crossed the distance between him and Jimmy, pulling his gun from its holster and holding it under the boy’s neck, "ya didn't see nothin'."

"Don't hurt him, Lee, please!" you sobbed.

"Hey!" Lee yelped, turning back to look at you.  "You, shut up!"

"Don't talk to her like that!" Jimmy protested.  Lee responded with a swift backhanded slap, hitting Jimmy with his gun in the process.  

"You'd better learn how to respect authority, son, and real damn soon before somebody hands your ass to ya.  I'm not doin' nothing wrong with her, I'll have you know.  She's of age, and I'm not forcin' her to do it.  She likes it,” Lee bragged, “begs me for it, day and night.  Frankly, I can barely keep up with her.  Now, get on and mind your business, and this won't be any trouble for you."

Jimmy hesitated a little, glancing over at you for a moment.  “You’re a sick bastard, Sheriff,” he sighed as he shook his head.

Lee just grinned, almost like he was proud of the title.  "Tell me somethin', Timmy—"

"It's Jimmy."

"Yeah, whatever— you kissed her, didn’t ya?"

"Yes."

Lee laughed, grabbing the boy on the shoulder as if they were old chums or something.  "Oh, kid, if only you knew where that mouth had been."

Jimmy looked disgusted as he glanced at you and then to the ground, before turning away to storm off into the woods.  Lee seemed so proud of himself as he walked back to you, pushing you down since you’d started to lean up off the car.

"Now, where were we?" he purred.

"I hate you," you sobbed, "I hate you!"

"Oh yeah, that's right— you were about to come all over my fuckin’ cock."

He quickly got himself back out and shoved into you again, hard and brutal thrusts slamming your hips forward painfully.  

"I'd better not catch you with another stupid fuckin’ boy," he growled.  "You don't know how mean I can be, little girl.  You don't know everything I could do to them… you don't know everything I could do to you."

You tried your best to apologise again but the strength of your sobs made you nearly unintelligible.  Worse, you were so close to coming that you were starting to see stars.

"You're mine now, ya hear?" he moaned against your ear.  "Nobody else in this town is gonna touch you, or they'll have to answer to me.  Don't even want 'em lookin' atcha."

Your orgasm made your legs feel like jelly, your whole body going limp as all the energy to fight left you.  He kept fucking you strong and fast, overstimulating the most sensitive places inside you.  Your eyes rolled back in your head, your thoughts became fuzzy and distant, and all you could feel was overwhelming pleasure buzzing under your skin.

"Yours," you moaned weakly, "just yours, daddy…"

"Fuck, gonna come," he warned you, "gonna fill you up, sweetheart."

You nodded, the danger of that prospect feeling distant and abstract, while the best parts of it felt so close and tangible.  He groaned as he pumped his load into you, thick and hot and warming you from the inside out.  When he finally slowed to a stop and pulled out, you could feel a gush of it leak out of your opening and run down your thigh.

Silently, he uncuffed your wrists and helped you up off the car, sliding into the backseat with you with a quiet shut of the door behind him.  Something about the overwhelming sensations of it all, and the way it went from so loud to so quiet in just a moment, and his sudden switch from cruel to gentle, made your eyes water until you couldn't help but bawl.  You threw yourself into his arms and sobbed, clutching at his chest.

"I'm so sorry, daddy," you whimpered, "I didn't mean to do anything wrong…"

"Shh, it's okay, sweet girl," he cooed as he stroked your back soothingly.  "You know I only get upset like that cause I want the best for you."

"I know," you sighed, "I just wanted to be normal, you know?  Have a boyfriend like the other girls do, somebody I could marry someday."

"I get it," he nodded, "I don't blame you.  I wish we could leave this place, and start over where nobody knows where we are.  But you know I couldn't leave Knockemstiff… not when I'm about to win this election."

"If you can win here, maybe you can win somewhere else," you suggested.

He turned to look at you, a look of pleasant surprise on his face.  "You sayin you wanna run away with me, princess?"

"Umm…" you stalled.

"I know you wanna get away from your ma.  Hell, so do I.  You understand why I needed a wife though— people trust men with wives more," he explained matter-of-factly, "and not wives that are more than 20 years younger than them."

"So it was all a way to get reelected?" 

"I was lonely too.  Marriage didn't fix that though.  You did."

You looked up at him and couldn't believe the way you felt when you did.  Sometimes you hated him even more than you did before he married your mother, but at times like this, you loved him in a way you'd never loved anybody before.  You wondered if maybe hating somebody like that sometimes was just the way love worked.

"Come on, sweet girl, let's go home," he suggested softly, kissing you on the forehead.

You nodded as he got out of the back and returned to the driver’s seat, starting the car.  Laying down, you watched the tops of the trees through the window— though it was quite dark out and there wasn’t a lot to see— and felt your eyelids get heavy.  Drifting to sleep, you dreamt in vivid colors of abstract things that you could never explain with words if you tried; though you couldn’t have known it, Lee watched you sleep in the rearview mirror, and did some dreaming of his own.

//

Midnight snacks; the least of your many bad habits.

You emerged from your room in your summer nightgown— which meant it was as thin as it needed to be for the heat outside— and stepped carefully over the floorboards you knew to creak the loudest as you made your clandestine trek to the mint-colored refrigerator.

As you moved through the living room to get to your destination, you jumped when a figure shifted in the darkness.  Realizing it was Lee, you relaxed (mostly).

"You scared me," you giggled.  "What are you doing on the couch?"

He groaned as he sat up, rubbing his head and looking a little exhausted.  "Uh, nothing… what are you doing up?”

“Just getting a snack,” you admitted, “hope you don’t mind.”

“Don’t stop on my account.  I was thinkin’ of a beer anyways,” he shrugged, following you to the fridge as you opened it.  His shirtlessness was a little distracting as he stood behind you, looking over your shoulder and reaching around to grab the glass bottle.  Settling on a leftover slice of cake wrapped in saran, you set your bounty on the counter while Lee opened and took a sip of his drink.

“Is it good?” he asked you once you’d acquired a fork and scooped a bite of the sweet, sugary dessert into your mouth.

You nodded, smiling but trying to keep your lips together to avoid spitting the food out.  It was a few days old but somehow it tasted better than it had when it was fresh— maybe it was that it was cold on a hot night, or maybe it was that you’d had to navigate a nauseatingly-boring baby shower in order to get some the first time.  Your mother insisted on dragging you along to all kinds of ridiculous community events like that.

Your next bite was more ambitious, because you weren’t exactly worried about eating in a ladylike manner when it was past midnight and you were eating cake in your pyjamas.

“You got some frostin’ on your nose,” Lee informed you— but before you could wipe it off, he took his finger and swiped it right on the tip of your nose.  You felt yourself blush a bit as he licked the blue cream off of his finger.  “It’s sweet,” he announced, “but maybe that’s just you.”

As warmth bloomed in your chest from his kindness (even if it was cheesy), you felt a little bolder to press him about what was actually going on.

“Why were you really on the couch?” you asked softly.

He paused for a second, taking a long, slow sip of beer as he thought, but finally answered.  “I got kicked out of the bed.  Your ma… well, she doesn't handle rejection very well it seems."

"Rejection…?" you encouraged, feeling a bit nervous suddenly.

"I wouldn't sleep with her,” he clarified.  “And now I'm sleepin’… here."

You swallowed, even though you weren’t eating at that exact moment.  "Why… why wouldn't you sleep with her?"

He smirked a little.  "Sweetheart, once you've had a taste of rare meat, you never go back to well done."

The comparison to meat was demeaning, even if you came out on the flattering end of the metaphor.  Still, you took pity on him as you saw how uncomfortable the couch looked.

"You could sleep in my bed, you know,” you offered awkwardly.  “I mean, it's not as big as yours but… it's definitely bigger than the couch…"

He smiled at you in a way that made you wonder if you'd made a mistake.  "You're too sweet, darlin'.  Even for your own good."

The rest of your cake and his beer was forgotten as you walked with each other to your bedroom, now both of you avoiding the creakiest boards.  You couldn’t ignore the way he shut the door behind you as quietly as possible— another reminder that, though neither of you were saying it, that this was the sort of thing you didn’t want to be overheard.  The secrecy of it all made your spine tingle, and you liked it.  Who knew a good girl like you would learn to love breaking the rules so much?

It wasn't as strange as you'd expected to have him in your bed.  A little cramped, maybe, but also oddly nice.  He cuddled up to you, and you felt small but safe in his arms.  When his lips pressed against the back of your neck, you whimpered softly; and when his fingers started to trail down between your legs, you moaned a bit louder.

"Gotta be quiet, pretty girl, don't want anybody else in the house hearin' ya…"

You'd never known how good it could feel to be touched until Lee touched you.  His fingers found every delicate spot and slowly took you apart until it became near impossible to stay quiet.  So quickly after invading your body, he invaded your mind as well, and now he was all you could think about.  Not just in moments like this, disturbingly, but damn-near all the time.  It wasn’t that you forgot everything you hated about him, but more that you forgot how to feel the hate and instead could only logically try to convince yourself to hate him still.  Logic was long gone, though, as he kissed your shoulder and pushed two thick fingers into you.

"You're so wet, honey, you're gonna spoil me," he purred softly against your ear.  "Want me to love ya good, sweet girl?"

You nodded quickly, smiling wide.

He smiled back as rolled you onto your back and slipped between your legs, pushing his pyjama pants down.  You preened when you felt his cock start to slide over your pussy.  When he suddenly pushed in, you gasped and arched your back.

"Shh," he soothed, "it's okay, baby, you can take it.  You're so good, princess, my good girl…"

You whimpered but kept mostly quiet as he thrusted deeper, nearly all the way in.  Was he always going to be this much of a challenge to take?

"Keep those legs open real wide, honey, show me how bad you want it," he purred.

Your head craned up to watch his cock disappearing inside you, only to fall back again as he pulled back and pushed in, over and over, fucking you slow but deep.

"Daddy," you whimpered softly, "feels so good, please don't stop…"

He kissed you, cradling your face in his hands.  "Not gonna stop, princess, 'm right here, not gonna letcha go…"

You clutched at his shoulders, feeling so full that it almost hurt but you loved it, god you loved it more than you could’ve ever believed.  You loved the feeling of him inside you, like you were made for each other.  You loved his little breaths and moans, and knowing it was because of you that he felt good.  You loved it, even, when he went a bit too deep and your arms shot up to push him back, only for him to grab your wrists and hold your hands above your head.  

"My girl," he whispered into your ear, "my girl, my girl, my girl."

And shockingly enough, you loved being his girl.

"I love you, daddy," you sighed, so quiet that you were afraid he wouldn't hear you.  But he did.

"Say it again," he requested.

"I love you," you repeated, "I love you so much, daddy."

"I love you too, princess," he answered with a smile, "more than you can imagine."

He kissed you as his thrusts gained some speed, your walls already fluttering each time he pushed all the way in.  You knew he felt it because you could tell that he was still smiling into the kisses he placed on your neck and shoulders.  You knew he was close, too, because it was his cock beginning to swell and flex within you that pushed you over the edge.  He helped you stay quiet by wrapping his hand around your neck and tightening until you started to see stars.  It made everything stronger, so much so that it quickly became overwhelming as tears quickly began to pour down the sides of your face.  

He was quick to comfort you though, relaxing his grip and wiping the tears away with reverently-whispered praises.  

“Don’t pull out yet, daddy,” you requested softly, wrapping your legs around his hips when you felt that he was trying to pull back.  “I like feeling you inside me…”

He kissed you again, gripping your thigh tight, and stayed that way until you finally agreed that he could go— and who were you to say how long you made him wait?  It felt too good to let him go so soon, even if he was exhausted.  As soon as you nodded, though, he was slipping out and sighing. 

"Fuck it, I'm not gonna wait any longer," he groaned as he laid back onto your bed, staring at the ceiling, "I wanna make you mine for good."

You laid your head on his shoulder, looking up at him and admiring the little details of his face that you could only see when you were this close.  "I thought you said you'd never leave Knockemstiff."

"I don't think I have to.  What's the point of bein' the Sheriff if I can't marry who I want?"

You bit your lip a little before replying to that.  "You really wanna marry me?"

"Of course I do, princess,” he smiled proudly, looking back at you.  “Might have to wait a while if I'm s'posed to save up for another one of them diamond rings…"

"I don't need one, long as I have you," you decided confidently.

"You're too good to me, sweetheart," he smirked, kissing your temple softly.  "Can't wait to spoil you the way you deserve."

“How’s that?” you pressed, drawing abstract shapes onto his chest with your fingertip.

“A bigger bed than this,” he laughed.  “A nice car— if you want your own, that is.  You know I’d love to have you shotgun with me in the patrol car as much as I can.”

“You’d really get me a car?”

“Of course, after a little while.  What kind would you want?”

“A red one.  A real glossy red one.”

“Alright,” he smirked.  “How about I getcha somethin’ else fancy— pearls, maybe?  A girl like you deserves to wear pearls every day.”

“You think I’d look good in them?”

“Mm, especially if you weren’t in much else.”

“Okay, I could wear pearls if you bought them for me.  Maybe I’ll be one of those wives who’s wearing pearls and heels when her husband gets home from work.”

“Fuck, talkin’ like that’ll get me hard again, princess,” he groaned.  “Anythin’ else you want?”

“...I want a baby,” you admitted softly, embarrassed to even say it.

“I’ll put one in ya right now, sweetpea,” he purred.  “Well, maybe not right now, I need a minute or two but… I could’ve already gotten you pregnant, you know.  I’m no good at pullin’ out when it comes to you and that tight little pussy.”

“Is it strange if I sort of hope you did?  Get me pregnant already, I mean.”

“Not at all,” he shook his head, “at least not to me.  But I’m a little stranger than most.”

“Yes, that’s the impression I get,” you giggled.  

“Maybe it’s strange that I think you’d look beautiful pregnant, all round and glowin’, with my baby in ya…” he trailed off, clearly imagining it.

“Maybe it’s strange that I think you’re the most handsome man in all of Ohio,” you winked, snuggling up closer to him.

“That is most certainly strange,” Lee laughed.

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

The Way I Am

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier Warning(s): virgin!geralt, loss of virginity, erectile dysfunction Rating: explicit

Summary: Geralt doesn't think anyone could ever want him because he can't perform sexually, Jaskier makes a point of proving him wrong.

Geralt has never been wholly comfortable with his body. It was essentially created to kill monsters and survive and for no other purpose and it does its job, but Geralt doesn't like it. And not only because now that he's older it's covered in scars and his left knee has never been the same since the injury, but his body doesn't function normally. He's not supposed to be human, not any longer, but he hates that his heartbeat is so slow, hates that he can't turn off the hypersensitivity when he's in a crowd. 

But the second round of trials brought with them an additional problem that he doesn't share with the others. When he was younger, it was his hair that bothered him the most, that set him apart even from the other Witchers who shared the rest of his maladies, but as he grew his hair became the least of his problems.

Geralt was fourteen when he realized his cock didn't work the same as everyone else's. Which is to say, it didn't work at all.

It wasn't unusual for the boys to mess around with one another; they were all learning and developing and with the heightened senses it could be a lot. But Geralt never had before and the very first time it went… badly. The other boy had been confused as to why he couldn't get hard and when Geralt had continued to struggle, the other boy eventually tired of waiting and went off to find someone else.

It hadn't meant much at the time, but Geralt had continued to dwell on it, thinking about the look on the other boy's face, how wrong it had made him feel. He hadn't tried again after that, afraid to face the same confusion and rejection a second time, afraid to even share his secret with those closest to him. Eskel, he's sure, wouldn't care that he was broken, but Geralt wasn't willing to take that chance.

So when they set out on the Path, Geralt makes a point to avoid sex in any context, bottling up the need when it arises and focusing on his job above anything else. He knows no one will want him because he has nothing to offer them in bed and that's just something he has to live with. But he still feels the need, still desires a soft touch, but even that seems beyond his reach because he's a Witcher and people have little love for Witchers.

Then, he meets Jaskier who is both a blessing and a curse. Because Jaskier is soft and sweet and beautiful and treats Geralt like he's no different than anyone else, but Jaskier is also stunningly beautiful and Geralt longs to get his hands on him. But he knows how that would end, so he keeps him at arm's length, and still, Jaskier just continues traipsing around after him. He takes his leave on occasion, but never longer than a few weeks at a time before he's bounding back into Geralt's life with some new wonderful thing to tell him about.

And Geralt, regrettably, falls hard.

He can't tell Jaskier how he feels because he knows the second they fell into bed together, the whole thing would fall apart. Because no one wants someone who can't perform and at this point, Geralt is so inexperienced, he'd be embarrassed to even consider sleeping with someone, even someone as caring as Jaskier.

So he keeps his feelings to himself for years, suffering through Jaskier's failed relationships and many more dalliances in between. And he tells himself he's okay with it because he could never be what Jaskier wants anyway. Then one night, they're in the city for a festival. Jaskier is performing and between sets he's ducking back to their table, chatting away happily with Geralt and sharing drinks with him. And by the end of the night, they're both a little drunk.

So when Jaskier saunters up and climbs into his lap, Geralt doesn't stop him. Because Jaskier's hands feel good on him and he so rarely gets to indulge in even the faintest of touches. Jaskier's sitting back, smiling at him as he twists his fingers through Geralt's hair and then he gently tips forward, pressing their foreheads together.

"Geralt?" he breathes, "Can I kiss you?"

Everything in him screams no because he can't let himself have this little bit of Jaskier and then never again, but he's already come this far. So he nods, slips a hand up around the back of Jaskier's neck and pulls him close.

And Jaskier's mouth slides against his own like it was meant for it, soft and needy and he doesn't seem to care that Geralt is a little out of his depth. He guides him, showing him how to move and Geralt copies Jaskier's motions as well as he can, licking lightly into his mouth and nibbling on his lip.

Jaskier moans against him, sliding forward so their bodies are pressed together, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging and oh he likes that. But then Jaskier pushes further, sliding a hand down Geralt's chest and pressing against his crotch, and Geralt panics.

He shoves him away without thinking, sitting back in his seat, and when he looks up Jaskier looks hurt and confused. And Geralt knows he can't tell but he doesn't know what to say to him, so he pushes himself up and hurries away, making for their room.

He shuts the door and locks it behind him, stripping out of his outer layers and curling up in the bed. He knows Jaskier will be back before too long or if Geralt's lucky, he'll find someone else's bed to sleep in tonight and Geralt won't have to worry about him until the morning.

But it isn't long before Geralt hears the clink of a key in the hole and the door pushing open into the room. He doesn't look up and he doesn't move from his spot on the bed, but he listens to Jaskier. The door shuts and Jaskier crosses to the other side of the room, carefully undressing, but what Geralt isn't expecting is to hear the sound of his footsteps coming back toward him. Then the blankets are pulled back and a gust of cold air hits his back before Jaskier climbs up into bed with him.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, reaching out and tentatively brushing his fingers along Geralt's back. "I didn't mean to push, I thought it would be okay."

"It's fine," Geralt whispers.

"Obviously not, darling or you wouldn't have pulled away like that. I don't mind."

"It is," Geralt insists, "I… like when you touch me."

"Okay. What was bad about tonight, then?" Geralt just groans into his pillow, pulling it up around his face. One of Jaskier's hands comes up to settle on his arm and he leans up over him. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. But you can, Geralt. You can talk to me about anything."

"It's just," he pauses, curling his fingers around the edge of the pillow in frustration. "I'm… broken." Immediately, he can feel Jaskier's despair and he doesn't know what else to say, he doesn't want to make it worse.

"You're not, love."

"I am," he snaps, frustrated by Jaskier's continued gentleness. "My fucking prick doesn't work, Jaskier."

"Oh," Jaskier says quietly and Geralt wants to scream, to throw something, but Jaskier just wraps his arms around him and holds him closer. "They have medications for that, enchantments."

"They don't work. I got desperate once and tried, even Yen- It was the trials, Jaskier, it's irreversible."

"The others-" he starts but Geralt cuts him off.

"Just me."

Jaskier nuzzles against his back and squeezes more firmly around him. There's silence for a long time, just the sound of Jaskier's breath, and Geralt focuses on the steady rise and fall, letting it soothe him.

"You know," Jaskier whispers at length, "none of that matters to me. I'm so sorry you were made to feel like you were somehow broken, Geralt, but it doesn't matter to me. I- I love you. For who you are, not for your cock, and I don't want you to think something's wrong with you because of it. You're too important to me." Geralt scoffs and Jaskier flattens his palm against his chest, sliding up over his heart.

"Don't argue with me, Witcher. "My love is mine to give."

"But I'm-"

Jaskier sighs softly, brushing his fingers against Geralt's skin. "Beautiful," he whispers, "kind, soft, loving. You're a wonderful man, Geralt, and there are already so many who refuse to see that. Don't be one of them. I'm not going to stop loving you, so you might as well accept it."

He presses his forehead against Geralt's back, kissing up his spine and Geralt shudders under the touch, biting back the insistence that he's not enough, that Jaskier will tire of him because he can't fuck him. Eventually, the soft brush of Jaskier's fingers and his lips calms him and Geralt drifts off, still wrapped up in his arms.

In the morning, he wakes to Jaskier's breath against the back of his neck. They've shifted during the night, so Jaskier is curved right around him, fitted against his body like he belongs there, and as soon as he realizes Geralt's awake, Jaskier kisses the side of his neck and slides an arm up his chest.

"Good morning," he hums.

"Mm, morning."

"How did you sleep, love?" Geralt hums but doesn't answer. He slept better than he has in a long time, but he doesn't know how to say that to Jaskier. "Can I ask you something?"

"Mm?"

"Does it still feel good when someone touches you?"

"I… don't know."

"Can I?"

"You don't have to," Geralt breathes, "I know it's not worth it for you-"

"Geralt," Jaskier interrupts gently, "I thought we went over this. I am in love with you and it's going to take a lot more than a soft prick to keep me away so unless you tell me not to, I will do everything I can to make you feel good."

Jaskier shifts behind him, and the arm wrapped around him slips lower, fingertips slipping through the patch of hair right above his waistband.

"Can I?" Jaskier asks again and Geralt can't bring himself to speak, too afraid to break whatever spell or dream he's trapped in. He nods against the pillow and Jaskier leans up, kissing his shoulder. "Tell me if it's too much, love."

Jaskier fumbles a little with the buttons on his trousers, getting them undone with one hand before slipping inside and wrapping around his cock. He squeezes a little at first, then moves on to stroking him slowly, letting Geralt feel him as he moves down the length of him. Sparks shoot up his spine and Geralt squirms, pushing into the touch and groaning softly because no one has ever touched him like this and it's overwhelming.

"I can't," he whispers and Jaskier immediately lets him go, but Geralt can feel Jaskier's cock swelling against his lower back and it only makes him feel guilty. "No one's ever touched me like that."

"Darling, I'm so sorry. Did it feel good?"

"Yeah."

"Good," Jaskier hums, "that's all I want." Jaskier smoothes his hand up Geralt's side, kissing his shoulders and humming against him. "Do you want to try again? It can be a little overwhelming, but I promise you it'll feel good."

Jaskier gets his hand around him again and Geralt groans as he strokes him, fingers slipping up around the head of his cock pulling back at the foreskin so he can touch him properly. Pressure builds as Jaskier touches him, squeezing around the base then pulling up the length of him again. And Geralt can barely breathe, he’s engulfed with pleasure as Jaskier kisses his neck and his shoulders and presses up against him.

And Jaskier is hard, digging into the small of his back and Geralt wants so badly to turn around and touch him, but he can hardly think through the fog of pleasure. His hips twitch forward, pressing himself into Jaskier's hand and Jaskier loosens his grip a little, letting Geralt fuck between his fingers.

"You're beautiful like this," Jaskier whispers, "Geralt you have no idea how lovely you are." He hums against him, pressing his nose into Geralt's hair. "Are you gonna come for me?"

"It feels-" Geralt gasps, but then Jaskier's hand is around him again, slipping to the base to stroke him quickly.

"Good?" Jaskier asks.

"Like I'm gonna split apart."

"Yeah, it will. You're so close, love, so close."

Geralt jerks in his grasp as the pleasure peaks and he's not certain how he can contain this feeling but then he's coming, spilling over Jaskier's hand and onto the sheets. And he's never felt anything like it before but it's incredible. Blood rushes in his ears and he's only barely aware of Jaskier talking to him as he whines and squirms against him.

Then it's over and he's left panting and hot, sweat gathering at the hollow of his neck and Jaskier's hand slips up his chest soothingly.

"How was that?" he breathes, pressing his lips to Geralt's shoulder.

"Felt good," Geralt mumbles, "really good."

"Yeah," Jaskier agrees, "it feels incredible. And just think of all the different ways I can make you come." His hips jerk, pressing into Geralt's back and he mutters a faint apology against his skin.

"What about you?" Geralt asks, turning in Jaskier's arms to face him. Jaskier tips forward, catching his lips in a brief kiss.

"This is for you, my darling, we can worry about me another time."

"I've never," Geralt starts but he feels awkward talking about it and ducks his head, staring instead at where Jaskier's hand reaches out to twine his fingers with his own. "I've never been with anyone and I know I can't, but…" he trails off and Jaskier presses in again, kissing his lips before tipping his head up.

"Geralt if you want me to fuck you all you have to do is ask."

"I didn't think anyone would want to."

"I do. Fuck, Geralt, the number of times I've thought about it… I've always wanted you ever since the first day. I don't care how your body reacts as long as you're enjoying yourself. So yes, Geralt, if you want me to fuck you I'd be more than happy to."

"Please?" Geralt breathes and Jaskier gets both arms around him, hauling him up against him and rolling onto his back.

Geralt settles quickly as Jaskier's hands slide down his back and over his ass, catching on the waistband of his trousers. When he tips his head up, Jaskier is looking back at him, his eyes dark with lust but somehow still soft and Geralt can't help but dip down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. And Jaskier hums against him, sliding one hand back up to the back of his head and deepening the kiss.

He presses one thigh between Geralt's legs drawing him in and Geralt lets out a shuddering breath as his cock grinds up against Jaskier's leg.

"That's it," Jaskier hums, "I'm here for you, too, darling just wanna make you feel good." He pushes his trousers down, encouraging the roll of Geralt's hips as he gets them off of him and then, as he brings his hands back up, Geralt's attention is diverted.

His cock feels incredible where he presses it into Jaskier's thigh, but practiced fingers slip up over his ass, spreading his cheeks and dipping between and Geralt holds his breath. Realistically, he knows how men have sex, has seen his brothers do it and has come across it more than once in his travels, but he never expected it to happen to him and he can barely think.

Jaskier reaches for something on the floor, fumbling with it, and the next time he touches him, his fingers are cool and slick. He drags them across Geralt's hole and Geralt whines at the sensation that flickers through him. He drops to his elbows, burying his face in Jaskier's neck.

"Feel good?"

"Mmhm."

"Good. Want more?"

"Please."

"Mm," Jaskier hums, "how could I refuse when you ask so nicely?"

He brushes his fingers over him again, letting them catch on his rim and pressing a little firmer when they do. He circles his hole, pressing against it consistently and then pushes the tip of one finger into him and Geralt nearly cries out. Jaskier's free hand comes up to the back of his neck, stroking slowly.

"Still good?" he asks and when Geralt nods he hums pleasantly. "Good. It's gonna stretch a little, especially when I get my cock in you, but just tell me if it's too much, okay?"

Jaskier presses in a little further and Geralt inhales sharply. He remembers all the calming techniques he was taught as a child and shuts his eyes, breathing slowly. It feels good, having Jaskier's finger inside him and he likes the stretch of it, but he's already creeping close to the edge again, the pressure within him building and he doesn't want it to be over yet, he wants Jaskier to fuck him.

And it feels incredible when Jaskier adds a second finger, when he presses all the way in and rubs into him. He finds a spot deep within him that has Geralt moaning wantonly and grinding hard against Jaskier's cock. And Jaskier groans under him, not faltering as he continues thrusting into him, sending sparks of pleasure up Geralt's spine.

"Fuck," Jaskier groans, "Geralt you're so fucking sexy and you know I'd be happy to make you come on my fingers ten times over, but I'm not gonna last with you grinding against me like that. Think you're ready for my cock?"

"Yes," Geralt rasps and Jaskier is quick to pull out of him, but Geralt doesn't have the chance to miss the fullness before he's being shifted and the head of Jaskier's cock is pressing against him, pushing in.

It's much bigger than his fingers, but Geralt just keeps himself steady, face pressed into Jaskier's shoulder as he takes all of him. And once Jaskier is settled, he shifts his hips slowly, allowing Geralt to adjust to the intrusion.

And it feels amazing, the absolute fullness and the pressure against his cock as Jaskier's thrusts rock him and the fact that it's Jaskier, that he wants him despite everything. Geralt can't cope and he shuts his eyes, burying his face in Jaskier's neck and kissing him softly, frantically.

Jaskier keeps up the pace, finding an angle that hits that spot and sticking with it until Geralt can only whimper and moan with every thrust. It's all so much and before long, he's moving with him, unable to keep still any longer. He pushes back onto Jaskier's cock and ruts against his stomach, whining at the sensitivity of his cock and then without warning, he's coming.

He spills over Jaskier's stomach, dropping against him as waves of pleasure crash over him and he's barely aware of Jaskier coming too until he's pulling his head up and kissing him hard.

They rock through it together and Jaskier doesn't let him go for a second, running his hands over him and kissing him eagerly. It takes longer this time before Geralt finds his breath again, and when he does, Jaskier is right there with him, cheeks flushed and bright, and he can't help but lean in to kiss him again.

He doesn't know how long it is that they lay there, wrapped up in each other just kissing and touching, but eventually, it's Jaskier who pulls away.

"As much as I'd love to stay here for the rest of the day," he hums, lips still barely an inch from Geralt's, "I think we should have a bath and get some lunch."

Geralt would also like to stay in bed for the rest of the day, but his stomach grumbles at him and he finds himself agreeing. Jaskier runs a hand down his chest, wrapping loosely around his cock and brushing his fingers along it. Geralt's eyes flutter shut and Jaskier hums softly.

"If you're amenable," he breathes, "I'd like to rent a room at the kingfisher, one of the nice ones, and stay for a while." He slips his hand back up Geralt's chest and around the side of his neck. "I think we both deserve a break and I'd like some time to… get to know you better." His lips curl up in a cheeky smile and Geralt scoffs at him but doesn't resist when Jaskier draws him back in for a gentle kiss.

A shiver runs up his spine and Geralt thinks, maybe, that despite its flaws, his body isn't so bad after all.

[heliads]

Deserve You

Based on this request: “Bucky imagine where you're dating but you're not an avenger, so you sometimes feel not good at all for him even though he loves you more than anything. one time he comes from a mission to you waiting in his room, doubting again but he immediately tries getting this thought out of you and gives you his dog tags to prove he's yours forever and it's all cute then? :)”

masterlist

You open your eyes gradually, the last remnants of sleep being dragged away by the brightness of dawn. You allow yourself one final moment of lingering silence before sitting up with a yawn. A brief spurt of panic flashes across you when you realize that you’re alone in your bed, but then you hear a quiet noise from the kitchen and your pulse begins to settle once more. Bucky must have already gotten up, there’s no need to worry.

You keep having moments like this, where you turn to find yourself alone and keep thinking that this is it, that he’s finally left you. Then you mentally chide yourself for thinking that way- every single one of the Avengers that you’ve met on your trips to the old Stark Tower keeps talking about how Bucky’s head over heels for you, so why would he ghost you out of nowhere? You always smile for a second, thinking about your boyfriend, and then the doubt creeps back in and you glance around to find him. Every single time, without fail, those lurking remnants of doubt always worm back into your mind, and sometimes it feels like there’s nothing you can do to get rid of them.

The only available option is to find Bucky and put your mind at ease by knowing that he’s still here. So, you slide your legs out of the still-warm blankets, grimacing at the shock of the cold air, and pad over to the kitchen. Sure enough, Bucky is holding a mug of some hot beverage, maybe coffee or tea, and staring out the window at the city below him. He does this, sometimes, just watches the city like he could do it for hours. You have a feeling that he’s studying the city for any last lingering resemblance to the New York he’d grown up in, when the most pressing news was World War II and he didn’t see himself in Siberia for anything more than a ski trip, if he could put together enough pennies to afford it. However, life has a way of throwing you for a loop, and all of Bucky’s plans for the future evaporated as soon as he plummeted from the train all those years ago.

Bucky turns when he hears you approach. “Good morning.” You smile, joining him by the window. “Good morning yourself. Are you up early for an assignment or because of a nightmare?” Bucky frowns. “The latter. Did I wake you? I thought I was quiet.” You shake your head. “No, I was asleep the whole time. I just knew because you have that same look on your face after you have your nightmares.” Bucky laughs quietly. “And here I thought I was supposed to be the spy who knew everything. Sure you don’t want a job at S.H.I.E.L.D.?” 

You raise your eyebrows. “I’m not sure that paying attention to my boyfriend really qualifies me for FBI: Avengers Edition, but I’ll keep it in mind.” You head over to the fridge, starting to pull out some items for breakfast. Bucky leaves within a few minutes, mumbling something about an early morning meeting, and you head to work yourself soon after. Your own workplace is no Avengers Tower, just a typical office building, and you slide into your seat just in time to start the day.

The morning itself is fairly uneventful, and you’re just starting to think that it’s going to be another boring day as usual when you head off to your lunch break. As you’re waiting in line to use the microwave, you hear a pair of women talking at a table near you. You had no intention of eavesdropping, but although their voices are fairly loud your attention was hooked from the beginning when you realize they’re talking about Bucky. More specifically, they’re talking about Bucky’s girlfriend, or lack thereof.

Ever since you started dating Bucky, he had been careful to keep you out of the public eye. When you work as an Avenger for long enough, you learn to keep everyone important to you out of focus, out of danger. If a HYDRA agent got word of the former Winter Soldier’s girlfriend, you’d be on a train to Siberia with handcuffs and a blindfold within the hour, a ransom request already placed on your head. That’s if they were patient- if not, they would just shoot you to send a message. By making sure nobody heard about you, Bucky could keep you safe.

The downside of this is times like now, when you have to listen to two of your coworkers discussing how strange it is that a man as attractive as James Barnes would still be single. Obviously, you can’t say anything, and you’re not sure that they’d believe you if you tried, but it’s still slightly uncomfortable to hear the conversation swirling around you even as you have to stay silent. 

One of the women clicks her tongue in confusion. “I mean, isn’t it weird, though? He’s a friend of Tony Stark, there’s no doubt he’d have a shortage of girls who’d be willing to go out to a bar or something on a weekend.” The other woman laughs. “I bet that surplus of girls includes you, right?” The first woman grins cheekily. “I wouldn’t say no if he asked, but even I don’t have a chance. I mean, he’s an Avenger, and one of the hottest ones there. No one here could hold a candle to him. He saves lives on a daily basis and what do we do, sit around all the time? The only woman I could see him with is an agent or maybe Black Widow. At least then he’d be dating someone who’s his equal.”

The words feel like shards of ice threading through your heart, and you turn to go back to your desk, hunger suddenly forgotten. As you stare at your work, though, you find you can’t concentrate. You keep hearing what the women had said, that no one in this miserable office could be worthy of dating the famous Avenger Bucky Barnes. They’re right, aren’t they? Bucky was saving lives all the time while you complained and acted so needy. You sigh to yourself, feeling your spirits dampen by the second. Why did Bucky see in you anyway?

Bucky’s shoulders feel like they’ve been carved from stone. He’s been tense for so long that he’s certain he’ll never be able to move again. Today is the day that he has to begin reviewing case files from his time as a Winter Soldier. He’ll have to come face to face with photo and video evidence of all the wrongs he’s done, of all the killings and blood shed by his own damaged hands. He’s been trying to avoid it for a while, but S.H.I.E.L.D. needs his input on all of the past Winter Soldier missions in order to proceed with the ongoing investigations into the last HYDRA strongholds. Bucky has no choice but to confront his past, he knows that, but it doesn’t make his job any easier.

It’s not like he’s alone, though. Natasha is here, because her experience with the Red Room could prove useful with putting together some pieces of the HYDRA-Siberia-Soviet puzzle that’s been plaguing them for some time now. Steve is also here, one door down, looking at his old medical files that detail exactly how some brilliant scientists turned a scrawny kid with a death wish when it came to standing up to bullies into the strongest man of the century. 

Bucky clenches his jaw, and turns back to the manila file folder in his hand. He flips it open, taking out the diagrams and security camera stills and laying them out onto the table before him as he reads. He’s flipping through the rest of the contents of the folder when he pauses, staring at the images awaiting his acknowledgement. Natasha sees him freeze slightly and glances over to see what’s troubling him. Her brow dips in understanding.

Lying before him are photo after photo of death and destruction. Bucky remembers this day now, after it was buried so long under HYDRA mind wipes and his own crippling want to forget. The bodies of the dead line a small street, buildings reduced to rubble. He can see the dead, so many of them. There aren’t just the few military commanders he was sent to exterminate- no, HYDRA wants no witnesses and so Bucky had killed everyone in sight. There are children in pools of blood, their mothers reaching over them as if to shield them from the inevitable bullets coming their way. He tells himself that their deaths were quick, efficient, maybe even painless, but it is not enough. There is no way to justify this amount of bloodshed.

Natasha puts her hand on his shoulder. The gesture, meant to bring comfort, startles him and it takes all of Bucky’s self-control to not flinch. Bucky swallows hard. “I did all of this. I killed every one of them.” Natasha’s voice is low and quiet. “It wasn’t you. You had no choice in any of this.” Bucky laughs, thought it is heavy with horror and breaks in upon itself. “It’s easier to say that, but it was still my hand pulling the trigger.” He leans back against the wall, trying to steady himself.

“How were you and Steve able to convince anyone to trust me? Why did you even want to save me in the first place?” Natasha stares at the photos, taking in the broken bodies of the dead. “Steve knew the real you, the one who’s standing here right now and would never attempt this sort of carnage. I knew what it was like to lose all control and feel like your hands would always be stained with blood. Second chances are more powerful than you might think.”

Bucky shakes his head slowly. “I don’t deserve that chance. I don’t deserve any of this.” He closes his eyes for just a second as if by blocking out the world he can block out the memory of the methodical shudder of the rifle in his hands, the recoil as he fired again and again. “I don’t deserve Y/N. She-” Natasha cuts him off smoothly. “Y/N knows what you’ve been through, and she knows that you are not that same man. I’ve spoken with her before, and she knows the full extent of what you did.”

Bucky’s eyes cut back to the photographs. “Then why does she stay?” Natasha’s gaze feels like a leaden weight, unflinching and unyielding. “She stays because she loves you. She stays because she knows that the real Bucky Barnes is a hero, someone who is willing and able to move on from their past. Y/N is one of the most important parts of your life, not because she’s a good kisser but because she’s one of the only people who can see straight through you and know that you’re a good man.” 

Bucky nods. “I don’t need you to tell me twice.” Natasha’s right, though, and even the barest mention of Y/N brings back a wave of good memories to fight against the bad. She’s like an anchor, someone holding him in place even when all of the darkness he’s had to endure threatens to pull him under. It astonishes him sometimes that he still wakes up beside her every morning. She’s so perfect, so wonderful. What does Y/N see in him anyway that would make him so lucky to have her with him?

You’re in a despondent mood for the rest of the day. You slump home, not even bothering to turn on the lights but discarding your coat and bag in the dark of the room. The faint light still shining through the windows is all you’ll need. You stare unthinkingly at the apartment for a while, then head to your bedroom. As you catch sight of yourself in the mirror, you stop with a sigh, leaning your hands against the dresser underneath.

You stare at yourself, at the dark circles under your eyes. Who are you, anyway? Who are you to think that you would ever be good enough for an Avenger? At this point, it’s only a matter of days before he breaks up with you. No wonder he keeps waking up before you- he’s trying to leave without seeing you that often, as a way to lessen the blow of the eventual goodbye.

The problem about gloomy thoughts is that they tend to wrap around you, pulling you away from everything else. You’re so distracted that you don’t hear the front door open, and you don’t notice Bucky enter the apartment until he knocks softly on the wall of your bedroom as he stands in the open door. You turn around with a flash, plastering on a smile, but your reaction is too late and his brow furrows. “Are you alright?”

You try for a smile, reaching out to kiss him in greeting. “Of course I am. How was your day?” Bucky is not to be deterred. “I saw your face, Y/N. You looked really upset. Is everything okay?” Maybe it’s that velvet tone of his, or the concern laced in his eyes, but your few fragile defenses break down. You turn to him, fighting back tears. “Why are you still with me?” Bucky frowns. “What?” You hold your hands up uselessly. “You’re an Avenger and you’re out there saving lives all the time. Why would you ever be interested in some girl from the city? I’m not half the person you are.”

Bucky stares at you for a second, then wraps his arms around you, drawing you close. “Y/N, love, why would you ever think that?” You look away. “Because it’s true. You should be dating some other superhero of a woman who could be your equal.” Bucky’s frown tinges slightly with anger. “Did you hear about this on some news show? I told that one news outlet that if they said a single thing about me I’d shut them down, and I’ll do it-” You cut him off. “It’s not like that. It’s just- You’re an Avenger, Bucky, and you deserve someone equally as brave as you are.”

Bucky guides you gently over to the bed, and the two of you sit down on the edge. He pulls you into his arms. “I don’t want some superhero. I want you. Y/N, I love you because you’re the only one here who sees me for who I really am, not just some soulless Avenger but a faulty person. Honestly, if anything I’m surprised that you’d still stay with me.” Your tears dry up as you stare at him. “What?” A quiet smile spreads across Bucky’s lips. “Every single day, I come home and you make a difficult day a thousand times better. You know me better than I know myself, and even despite everything I’ve done and the monster I’ve been, you still make me feel like a good man again. You’re one of the kindest souls I’ve ever met, Y/N, and you deserve someone equally as good as you are.”

You shake your head slowly. “That’s not the same. Anyone can be nice.” Bucky cups your cheek in his hand. “Nobody else knows that I always get up in the mornings and pace around because of the nightmares. Nobody else knows that I always stare down the alleyways on the walk home because I keep thinking I’ll see Steve in there getting beat up, or help me pick out jackets based on how easy it will be to remove the left sleeve. You’re the only one for me, doll, and I wouldn’t trade you for a heartbeat.”

He reaches into a pocket. “Here, I’ll prove it.” He takes out something silvery, like stamped metal. With a jolt, you realize they’re his dog tags, the ones he had from fighting in World War II all those years ago. He gestures for you to turn around and you do, feeling the weight of the metal around your throat as he fastens them. When you look back at him, he’s smiling. “See? You can’t get rid of me, love. Not in a million years.” 

You smile, running your fingers over the faded lettering. “Won’t you want them? You know, as a memory of your old life?” Bucky shakes his head, a content expression lingering in his eyes. “I don’t need them to remember. I’ve got you, and you’re the only home I’ll ever need.” When he kisses you again, you can feel the dog tags right over your heart, like a promise that he’ll always be with you, no matter what.

[xtinyaurora]

Hi! Can I request a Yandere!Ateez reaction to you running away? I know it’s the standard but I thought it would be easier for the beginning :)

Yandere!Ateez reaction: Their Y/N tries to run away

_____________________________________

➼ requested: yes

➼ genre: yandere, smut

➼ gender neutral + Ateez / gnxateez

➼ Word-count: 1386 words

➼ Warnings: nsfw content, strong language, cursing, spanking, slapping, punching, pet names, degradation, yandere themes, psychopathic, blood, violence, yelling, cuffing,...

➼ Note: This is not based on their real behavior or meant to represent real life. This is simply a fan fiction. In no way am I condoning, justifying, encouraging or promoting yandere behavior or lifestyle. Read at your own risk!!!

____________________________________________

Park Seonghwa

He slowly traced the knife over your naked body, you laying on the bed, cuffed and blindfolded. The only thing heard were your tiny whimpers, until his chuckle broke the silence. „What’s wrong, baby, did I ruin your plans?” Well, he did. Yes, you might be dumb for trying to run away, but it seemed so easy. Seonghwa was gone, going grocery shopping and since you weren’t locked in your room this night, you took that opportunity and broke the tiny bathroom window (since the other doors & windows were locked). So as you were trying to squeeze yourself through that window, Seonghwa returned. Scared and confused about his early return, he told you about the cameras. After harshly pulling you out of that widow, he got you into your current state. You cried, begged and tried to apologize but he didn’t wanted to listen to you. „Pathetic” said the male in front of you with an angry yet unimpressed face. The sound of his belt was heard. „Let’s teach you a proper lessen, yea?”

Kim Hongjoong

He told you to follow his rules, or there will be bad consequences. You didn’t listen. Oh how dumb you are to beak one of his most important rules. „Please, I will do everything you want but please stop!” you cried out loudly. Hongjoong only looked at you with his demonic eyes, smirking at you. „Oh, you want me to stop?” he mocked you with a voice, similar to your own. „Want me to stop pulling out your nails, to stop with the constant whipping and punching and to stop biting your skin so it doesn’t bleed? No, slut, I am not gonna stop, because I’ve told you many times not to break the rules. I’ve told you to never try and run away from me, but, you didn’t listen. So take responsibility for your actions and live with the consequences, dumb pet.”

Jeong Yunho

„You’ve hurt me.” said the guy in front of you, disappointed and angry. „Yunho, I am so sorry, but I can’t do this anymore, please try to understand me.” you cried, kneeling in front of him, hands behind your back. „No, I don’t understand, and I won’t ever understand and do you know why? Because I give you everything you want, everything you can dream of, take care of you and love you to death, and this is the way you repay me? Are you serious, Y/N?” He started to form tears in his eyes while talking. Honestly, you felt kinda bad and ashamed because he was right. He actually really treats you like a royalty, expect for not letting you out of course. He never forgot to buy your favorite flowers before coming home and he never failed to realize when you felt down, taking care of you and not leaving your side for a second. „I am sorry, but I need to show you that you can’t always have it your way, baby. You’ve tested my patience... Come on turn around and get on all fours.”

Kang Yeosang

Stupid. That’s what Yeosang thought of you right now. How could you be so stupid, asking his friends for help? Since you knew his phone password, you texted his friends and tried to explain what kind of a psycho your boyfriend was and that you needed help to escape. Of course, no one believed you. After deleting everything, you putted his phone back, sitting on the couch quietly. „Here.” your boyfriend gave you a bowl of popcorn, starting the movie you were planning to watch. After 10 minutes, Yeosang took his phone from under the pillow, checking what you were up to since he saw how you typed on it before. One of his best friends, Wooyoung, texted him, asking about what his lover told them earlier. Yeosang got red out of anger. „Hey, baby?” he asked. You slowly turned you head in his direction, panicking. „Yes?”. „Did you play with my phone?”. Silence. Now he looked at you and before anything else, you felt his fist in your face. Not once or twice but around 12 times in a row, face starting to bleed. „Stupid thing, what do you think you are doing?! I will make you regret this.”

Choi San

„Yea, you like that, slut?” growled the male behind you. He’s in the middle of ripping your ass apart, punishing you for trying to run away. You idiot thought you could cuff him to the bed while he was sleeping and take his keys to get out of there. Oh how dumb you are. „You little piece of shit, I am going to hurt you so bad. How dare you to pull something like this, huh?!” did the psycho scream at you. He turned you around, grabbing your neck, putting pressure on it and spitting on your face. Then he started slapping you in the face. „Learn your place, pet. Don’t you dare to do something as stupid as this again because next time, I am not only going to break those pretty legs but your arms too, is this understood?”. You only nodded, too terrified to speak. „Good. Now let me get a knife, so I can crave my name into your beautiful soft skin, hm?”

Song Mingi

You were tied to a chair, sitting in the cold and scary basement. Slowly, you heard the door opening. Mingi entered the room looking at you coldly. He had a small bag in his left hand, slowly placing it on the table a few feet from you. He then opened the bag, pulling out a hammer, a knife and an axe. He stared at them for a minute, until he took the axe into his hand and came towards your frightened figure. You began to panic, violently shaking your head. „Oh my god, please don’t.” you begged. As he didn’t stop, you closed your eyes. He kneeled down in front of you, placing the axe above your left knee. „I’ve told you to never run. I’ve told you that if you do something as stupid as this, I will hurt you. Not because I want to, but because I have to.” After finishing his sentence, he raised his hand, ready to chop you leg off.

Jung Wooyoung

You’ve seen this boy get mad, but this time he was completely different. This boy was an ass, now adding more annoyance and brutality to it. He made fun of your crying figure, calling you a crybaby and telling you to shut up. „Cut it. I said that I don’t want to hear your fucking voice. Annoying brat.” did he say while giving you another harsh spank with his belt. Your whole body felt numb at this point. Even if you wanted to move, you just couldn’t. „Ohhh, already giving in?” He laughed. „Come on you can do better than that. Straighten that back!” he started yelling at you. Since you failed to move nor talk, you remind quiet, angering him even more. He pulled you up by your hair so you could look him deep into his eyes. He then started to smirk „Oh, we will have so much fun tonight!”

Choi Jongho

Smack! A few more following close behind. Your ass probably had the shades of red, no, purple by now. I mean, Jongho is a strong man, of course his hits are a lot harder. He had you bend over his leg for over 30 minutes now, not a single glimpse of pity. You felt how the blood floated over your tights all the way to the ground. „What? Does it hurt?” you couldn’t make out any emotions in his voice. Was he still mad or was he trying to show some sympathy? You nodded your head, hoping that he would stop. But the only thing coming out of his mouth was a simple „Good.” When he stood up, you thought it was over but dang it, how dumb you were to think that. He placed you on the bed, then took his clothes off. He grabbed his phone and told you to strip. He stared filming you while so, fucking you roughly afterwards, still filming. „After our little session, I will send and post this everywhere so everyone know who you belong to and who’s names matters to you. Show everyone how good you can be for me, come on.”

[masterjedilenawrites]

I’m not good at making requests, so forgive me if anything come out wrong.

But, could you do something were reader and Tech are fixing some eletronics and listening to cientific things, and start talking about a wrong thing people said there, so they get distracted and when realize, they’re in to a awkward position (like him btween her legs or sth like that)

I love your writing and thanks (: <3

Omg I've been so soft for Tech lately and this prompt is perfect 💚 I hope this is what you were looking for, I really enjoyed writing it!

Tech x reader | 2k words

...making bacta the most important scientific achievement in history...

"Dank farrik," Tech huffed beside you.

You came out of your daze at the sudden exclamation and looked at your friend with concern, trying to quickly figure out what had gone wrong. You were helping him with a project, though what it was exactly you weren't completely certain of. All you knew was it involved digging into the walls of the ship and untangling a lot of wires. You'd been instructed to hold onto several of them, keeping them pulled taught out of the wall so Tech could fiddle with the other ends, and the dullness of the task had caused your mind to wander.

"What's wrong?" you asked, doubtful you'd understand any explanation, but wanting to be sure you hadn't done anything to mess up his progress.

He waved a hand at you dismissively, not pulling his attention away from the work in front of him. "Just the radio," he mumbled.

You hadn't been paying attention; it had only been turned on as background noise to keep you from going insane with boredom. And since it was tuned into some kind of scientific news frequency, you didn't really understand much of what was being said anyway.

...with the most influential application simply being in the field of medicine, providing us higher life forms with a versatile tool in maintaining our quality of life, and potentially even prolonging it...

Tech huffed again. Scoffed. Your mouth quirked at how upset he was getting. It was kind of cute.

But, you had to debate whether engaging with his frustration would be worth it. He had only recently calmed down from his outburst earlier that day, the only time you had ever seen him genuinely upset. Wrecker had accidentally knocked over a piece of machinery that was... well, something very important, apparently. No one was too sure. But Tech had spent most of the week carefully arranging its parts just-so, so that when all his hard work went crashing onto the floor, his breathing had suddenly resembled that of a charging Nexu. He'd drawn himself up, trying to match his brother's height, and ordered the poor guy to never step foot in this part of the ship again. The other Batchers had tried to defend him and were subsequently banned as well.

That left you as the only option for help.

Maybe that meant he wouldn't kick you out for debating him....

"Sounds like they're saying some pretty reasonable things. Am I missing something?"

Tech's fingers, which had been deftly working through the wires before him, clipping some and splicing others, finally froze. The clone's face tilted over to you, his eyes looking a little too judgmental through those glasses for your liking.

"You think bacta is the most important scientific achievement?" he asked. You didn't like his tone, either.

You scrunched your mouth in thought, actually giving the question serious consideration. While you mulled it over, Tech stood up from his hunched position in the wall and started pulling on some of the wires, unraveling them from their tangled mess.

"Yeah," you finally decided. "I think medicine in general is pretty important. And bacta specifically is the strongest known substance to deliver fast and effective healing."

Tech was mostly focused on the wires, but he spared you a glance.

"And treating symptoms is the most important thing for humanity? Here, hold this." He added another wire for you to hold in your hands.

You knew it was a loaded question so you chose to answer it with one of your own. "Well if it's not bacta or medicine, then what would it be?"

"Electricity," he said quickly and assertively, as if it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy. He continued to focus more on his work and you were annoyed he didn't seem to want to offer up an explanation to his opinion, despite having made you give one. He'd finally untangled the wires and was back to leaning into the cavern in the wall and setting them into their proper places.

"Why electricity?" You hated how dumb your question sounded; obviously you understood the concept and understood its importance. You just really wanted to challenge him to give you some explanations.

"For one, most medicines would not be able to be mass-produced were it not for the electrically-run vats in which they are made." He held his hand out behind him and made a grabbing motion. "Blue, please."

You sorted out the blue wire and passed it over.

"For another," he continued, his voice sounding distant as he leaned further away into the wall, "we must ask what constitutes a quote-unquote important achievement. For example, is an achievement worthy of the title simply because it improves our quality of life? Green, please."

You handed over the corresponding wire. "I'd say it's more about preserving life. Even outside of war, there's enough injury and illness that would end life were it not for medicine to heal them."

"Ah, but in that same reasoning, electricity also sustains life. It powers sources of light and warmth, which can also provide a means of boiling water and cooking food. All keys to survival. Yellow, please."

"So does fire," you shot back. "People survived long before electricity, and there's still plenty of civilizations living fine without it."

Tech finally emerged from the wall and took the last few wires from you, the red and black ones. He met your eyes with an earnestness that let you know how much he was enjoying this conversation. "And people have survived without medicine. At least the manufactured forms that you're arguing for, like bacta. Traditional medicine is as sufficient as fire."

Before you could respond, Tech moved to the side, motioning toward the wall with his head and holding up the remaining wires.

"Now, unfortunately these last ones need to be clipped in down below. I'm not able to fit through the lattice of the floor, but someone of your stature easily could."

You stepped forward and peered down. It was a mess of machinery and pipes and beams, but you could clearly see the port where the wires had been yanked out earlier. You knelt down, resting your stomach on the edge of the wall, but paused before bending over.

"If it wasn't for bacta, you wouldn't have been born." You were confident in your comeback and thus didn't linger for his reaction, turning to bend down into the ship with your wires instead.

You were disappointed to hear his soft chuckle from above you.

"And what do you think powers the bacta tanks that hold the clone embryos?"

You were glad he couldn't see the frustrated frown on your face. While you tried to think of a new point in your debate, you snapped the red wire into the proper port. But then you realized you couldn't quite reach the black one, and started carefully shimmying forward, deeper into the wall.

"It seems we have circled back to the initial question," Tech offered in your silence. You felt his hands hold on to your hips, steadying you as your legs lifted from the floor, most of your body now inside the ship. You didn't think anything of it, though, your focus split between your task and his words. "What makes an achievement the most important? Both medicine and electricity are capable of preserving life, but neither are essential to survival. So, what criteria are we left with?"

You were finally within reach of the last port and pushed the wire into it. "Sounds like you already have the right answer, so why don't you stop teasing me and just say it?" you called up to him.

"I...I didn't mean to sound like I was teasing."

You could hear the apology in his voice, how truly caught off guard he was to hear that you had perceived his attempts at a friendly debate, a conversation, as mocking or disrespectful. Your stomach knotted up in guilt, making your journey to wiggle back out of the wall a little more difficult.

"I'm sorry, Tech," you said through a grunt as you tried to push yourself back. "I didn't mean to sound rude. I just don't know the answer."

You felt his arms snake around your middle, pulling you the last of the way out. You came to rest on your knees, breathing heavily at the sudden increase in air supply. Tech was crouched alongside you, his chest against part of your back, his arms still holding you.

"I honestly don't know the answer, either," he blinked down at you, speaking quietly. "I don't know what criteria would constitute the most important scientific achievement. I thought maybe we could figure it out if we kept discussing it."

You craned your neck around to look at him, unconcerned about the discomfort it took to do so. You needed to face him fully. "Or... maybe we don't need to figure it out? I mean, does there need to be one achievement labeled more important than any other? Can they not all be valued equally?"

"I suppose..." he relented. But only a little. "It is a fun thought exercise, though."

You smiled at that, and it made your heart flutter a little to see him return the expression. There were a few seconds between you where you sat pleasantly in each other's arms... before the realization hit that you were in each other's arms.

"Uh," Tech stuttered first. His eyes looked about frantically as if the more he saw of you practically sitting in his lap, the more he would know what to do about it.

Your face was hot and your heart thumped forcefully in your chest. But you weren't panicking. Even though you'd been around the Bad Batch for a while now, this was the first time you'd gotten physically close to any of them, especially this dorky genius, who made you feel just a little better about life than the others did. You hadn't been sure why, not until this moment, your face being mere inches away from his own. Now it clicked.

His arms had removed themselves from your frame and he was starting to crawl backward on the floor. You quickly grasped his shoulder to stop him.

"Tech, wait."

He froze, looking at you with wide, apprehensive eyes. His shoulder was tense so you relaxed your grasp and simply let your hand rest on it gently. You gave him a small smile. Thankfully these little gestures were enough encouragement for him to lean back to you. He still looked at you timidly, but he wasn't pulling away anymore. It seemed like maybe he had been feeling the same things about you.

"Yes?"

He was waiting for you to make the next move.

"So, this project," you stalled, needing just a little more time to work up the courage. "What is it again? Why did I just crawl into the bowels of the ship?"

Your face was creeping closer to his, breath gently fanning across each other, warm but refreshing.

"I... I..." Tech seemed to be short-circuiting. "I was just, uh, re... redecorating."

Your nose had just brushed his when you suddenly frowned and moved back to look at him questioningly. "Redecorating... wires?"

You were very amused at how flustered he seemed to be in this situation. But then the tables turned as Tech rolled with it.

"Yeah, I didn't like the way they looked in there. Wanted to change things up. You know me."

The smile on our face spread as he talked and you couldn't hold back your laughter any longer. You bent forward, resting your forehead in the crook of his neck while your body convulsed with giggles. Tech laughed along, bringing his arms back around you to hold you in place. When you finally looked up at him and the shit-eating grin he had plastered on his face, you knew you'd finally found your courage.

"Oh, Tech..." you chided, pressing your smiling lips against his own.

[jinx-jade]

Contagious adoption Part 2: Creatures

Marinette and Tim were sitting in the living room of one of Tim’s apartments. They had flown in from the Tibet village about thirteen or fourteen hours ago.

Tim had filled out all the adoption papers and any other legal papers his newly claimed daughter would need. To his surprise, Marinette had identification papers. He had thought the little deity didn’t need them. After all, Marinette had lived on the hill to grant wishes, why would she need identification papers.

Unless she didn’t live on the hill her whole life… 

Thinking back to what Marinette had said when he asked her why she stayed up on the mountain all alone. Tim had a feeling she’s been abandoned before.

Back on the mountain, Marinette had shifted from one foot to the other a few times before answering his question. She seemed to have been contemplating what to tell him. Or was it how much to tell him? 

Her answer, “Because I have nowhere else to go and no one waiting for me anywhere.” was a well-thought-out way to respond. 

If no one wants you, then no one waits for you.

If no one waits for you, then you have nowhere to go.

“... ake, Mr. Drake,” Marinette called for the umpteenth time.

“Sorry about that, guess I got lost in my thoughts,” Tim said with a sheepish smile. “Did you need something? Oh, and you can just call me Tim, or any variation of dad that you’re comfortable with.”

“Oh, uh, I don’t need anything… ” The little deity trailed off. “But, uh, does… does Papa work?”

Tim gave his daughter a soft smile.

‘His daughter. Now wasn’t that a strange thought.’ Tim couldn’t help but think to himself.

“You can call me Papa if you want.” He said with a smile, before adding, “I can speak French and a few other languages.”

Tim was unsure why he felt like mentioning that he can speak French was important. However, when Tim saw Marinette look up at him in awe, he couldn’t help but think It was the right thing to say.

“Now, what is it you wanted to do,” Tim asked, picking his daughter up so she doesn’t have to look up at him the whole conversation.

“Can we make cookies? It’s… It’s been a long time since I’ve had any…” Marinette trailed off again.

“Of course we can make cookies. What kind did you want to make?” Tim asked with a soft smile.

Life continued like normal for the young CEO, vigilante, with the addition of a small deity. However, there were a few changes to his lifestyle.

Tim was now able to cook and bake, not as good as Alfred, but he figured that Alfred won’t ban him from the kitchen.

Tim also registered Marinette Drake-Wayne as being homeschooled. Which was fine since Tim was technically qualified to homeschool his kid. However, Marinette flew through the classes like they were nothing. Her teachers wanted to have her IQ tested, but Marinette said she didn’t want to, so no one pushed it.

Tim also worked from home, only ever showing up to meetings. He also seemed to have a little helper when it came to some of the paperwork. Turns out, Marinette knows how a business runs, and how to run one. It was slightly concerning, but his daughter waved his concern off.

Tim took a break from being a vigilante. He still helped out by sending the bats reports of the rogue of the day, or sometimes a week, that they were tracking. Marinette helped out with this as well. Apparently, she’s been a vigilante before. To say that Tim was concerned was an understatement, but his concern was once again, waved off.

After a month of living with his adopted daughter, Tim had his first in-person meeting at W.E.

“Hey bean, do you want to come with me to work?” Tim asked while making breakfast.

“Am I allowed to?” Marinette shot back in response.

“I mean, B. always took his kids to work so, I’m just gonna say you’re allowed to,” Tim answered with a shrug, setting the food at the table.

Marinette shrugged back.

“Sure! I’ll go ahead and call H.R. and let them know I’ll be making my first appearance as Marinette Drake-Wayne.” Marinette informed him, before digging into her food.

Tim chuckled at that.

“You’re definitely gonna be H.R.’s favorite.” He claimed before he began eating his breakfast.

“Papa, I used to grant magic wishes on a hill with mythical creatures, that is my version of normal. I’m willing to bet that I will be H.R.’s least favorite person by the end of the year.” Marinette claimed, causing Tim to laugh.

“Bean, sweetheart, you’re about to call H.R. to let them know about a mess they will have to clean up. The rest of the Waynes, myself included, usually just let them find out through the tabloids and news stations. You’re definitely gonna be their favorite.” Tim informed his daughter.

_______________________

Tim stepped out of his car and walked through W.E. up to his office. He was aware of the attention that was on him, not bothered by it in the slightest.

He looked down at his daughter to see that she was trying to hide from sight. She was clearly not comfortable with everyone looking at her. Well, everyone looking at her and the lack of magic. He really should have remembered that Marinette has extremely bad anxiety whenever she can’t freely use magic. In his defense, it seemed that neither of them had remembered due to having barely left the apartment the whole month Marinette has been living there.

Tim looked up and around the workplace. He raised a brow at the employees that were just watching, most of them scrambled to work, or simply turned their attention away to seem busy.

When Tim and Marinette finally made it to Tim’s office, they thought they could relax, only to see the rest of the Waynes sitting inside.

Bruce looked like he was about to ask something, but stopped when he caught sight of the little girl hiding behind Tim.

Tim of course, ignored his families questioning stares in favor of calming his daughter.

Tim sat Marinette down in his office chair with a cup of coffee, before turning his attention to the others in the room.

“I wasn’t aware everyone started working at W.E.” Tim joked with a raised brow. A clear question as to why they were in his office.

“Not all of us do,” Dick answered looking towards the small child. “Did you just give the tiny person coffee?”

Tim shrugs the question off easily, “Caffeine helps calm her anxiety when she’s too overwhelmed.”

“And who exactly is she?” Damian inquired, sounding a bit more like a demand than a question.

Tim looked over to Marinette who seemed to be doing slightly better. There wasn’t much else they could do besides give her more coffee and random tasks to do. He gestured for her to come over and talk, a simple task to take her mind off the lack of magic. She slowly made her way off the office chair and towards the group of people.

“Marinette, this is my adoptive father, brothers, and sister, Bruce, Barbara, Dick, Cass, Jason, Steph, and Damian. Guys, this is Marinette Drake-Wayne, my adopted daughter.”

Marinette gave a small, shy wave and smile before hiding behind her father once again.

“You disappeared for a month, and apparently adopted a kid.” Jason states. “Damn, and here I thought it was supposed to be my job to stress B. out.” He claimed with a chuckle.

“Could one of you watch Marinette for me while B. and I are in the meeting? I had asked her this morning if she wanted to come since I couldn’t leave her at home alone, but I don’t think either of us thought It would be this bad for her anxiety.” Tim states.

“How about those of us who don’t have a meeting to attend will go back to the manor, and we can watch over Marinette,” Barbara suggests.

Tim looked to Marinette to see if she would be ok with it, only to receive a shrug from the little deity.

“Ok.” Tim agreed after some hesitation. “If Marinette starts getting too anxious then give her something with caffeine in it and have her draw, or bake something,” Tim informs them.

After Marinette and Tim say their goodbyes, Marinette follows Barbara, Dick, Cass, and Steph out to the limo.

The drive to Wayne manor was awkward, to say the least. None of the Waynes had known that Tim adopted a kid, and they weren’t sure if she knew about their nightly activities, so they stayed quiet.

Tim’s daughter didn’t seem to mind the silence. Marinette was looking out the window calmly with no signs of her previous anxiety. However, every once in a while her hand slightly opens and closes as if grabbing something.

When they arrived at the manor, Dick was immediately grabbed into a hug by his daughter. Mar’i speaks too fast and excitedly for them to understand, unknowingly grabbing the attention of most of the Waynes.

Cass however, noticed the youngest and newest Waynes flinch at Mar’i’s unexpected appearance. Cass quickly and quietly, moved away from the other Waynes, bringing Marinette with her, inside the manor.

“Would the two of you like anything to drink or snack on?” Alfred asked when they entered.

“Tea. Muffin,” Cass says pointing to herself. “Coffee. Muffin?” Cass said pointing to Marinette.

“Of course, why don’t the two of you relax in the garden,” Alfred suggests.

Cass nodded her head leading them to the garden while Alfred left to prepare their snacks and drinks. Marinette seemed to be stuck in her head and simply followed Cass silently.

Marinette and Cass spent the afternoon in the garden, the plants seemed to have a calming effect on the smaller Wayne. After Marinette being in the garden for a while and drinking her coffee, Marinette seemed to have calmed down.

However, not all of Marinette’s anxiety and nerves were calmed by the coffee and plants. Cass just wasn’t sure what else could be calming the little bluenette.

After a few more minutes had passed, some small creatures started gravitating towards Marinette.

A white rabbit, some squirrels, birds, even a butterfly landed on Marinette’s nose making the girl giggle.

Cass could only watch in awe as the small creatures came closer. None of them wanted any food, water, or shelter, they simply wanted Marinette’s attention.

Then Cass noticed that the few small injuries and bruises she had received from last night’s patrol were fading away.

No.

They were healing.

Cass took out her phone and quickly recorded her injuries healing too fast to be normal, this seemed like the kind of thing the other bats would want to know. 

Cass also took a video and a few pictures of Marinette playing with the animals. She had to admit, the pictures looked adorable, so of course, she sent some to Tim. 

Chat: Tim

Cass: one attached picture*

Tim: good call on bringing her to the garden

Cass: Alfred idea

Tim: where are the others

Cass: Mar’i frightened? Marenet?

Tim: KEEP MARINETTE AWAY FROM KORI AND MARI

Cass: why

Tim: Marinette isn’t

Tim: normal

Cass: one attached video*

Tim: yeah

Tim: her anxiety is caused by not being able to use magic freely

Tim: should have mentioned that before

Tim: sorry

Cass: I text others?

Tim: Yeah go-ahead

Tim: Lunch break is over

Tim: I'll see you guys when the meetings are over

Cass: ok

Cass shot a quick text to Dick, warning him that Tim doesn’t want Kor’i or Mar’i near Marinette till he was at the manor, before looking up from her phone to check on Marinette. She seemed to be relaxed, definitely not as anxious as before. Cass probably wouldn’t have been able to tell that Marinette has anxiety from looking at her right now.

Marinette looked up from the little creatures she seemed to have befriended, with a smile. She got up with some plants in her hand and made her way towards Cass.

Marinette placed a flower crown on Cass’s head with a giggle, before running back to the animals.

Cass couldn’t help but think that Tim had a lot of explaining to do when he gets to the manor.

‘But that’s not my problem to deal with.’ Cass thought to herself as she took a picture of the flower crown and sent it to the family chat.

[etherrreal]

“resentment”

Pairing: oikawa x fem!reader Genre: angst Summary: you used to love oikawa’s determination, his drive, his willingness to give his all and sacrifice everything to get the things he wants. now those are the same things that make you resent him. WC: 6,700 Warnings: lots of angst, explicit language, reader’s kinda petty but so is oikawa, relationship isn’t toxic or anything but it could def be better A/N: shoutout to @shadowkunoichi​ for this request! your ask gave me enough serotonin to last for the rest of the week <3 it’s also important to note that the moment i saw oikawa’s smug ass face on screen my brain and heart immediately went “this the one” so here’s some pain ft. my favorite setter -Dawn

The first few times Oikawa cancels your dates for extended volleyball practice, you tell yourself it doesn’t bother you. You’re disappointed, of course –you barely see him enough as it is, despite living together for three months, despite dating for a total of eight– but it’s not the end of the world. It’s just another compromise you have to make, and it probably won’t be the last.

That’s what relationships are about, anyway, you remind yourself firmly, whenever the silence of your too-big for one person apartment starts to get to you. Compromise.

You’re no stranger to compromise, either. You can’t be, not when you’re dating a pro-athlete. You know better than anyone how talented Oikawa is, how admired. He’s worked so hard, and you’re so proud of him. You may not know much about sports, but you do know that your boyfriend has an amazing career ahead of him.

And while the selfish part of you would like to keep him all to yourself, you also know it won’t always be possible, and you tell yourself you’re okay with that. You love Oikawa, and you support every single one of his dreams, even if doing so means you have to eat dinner on your own sometimes.

It won’t always be this way, you tell yourself. It’s just for now. And it definitely doesn’t mean he loves you any less.

That’s what you tell yourself.

It helps that he’s always sorry about it. You hear it in his voice whenever he calls you to tell you he won’t be home until late, see it in the guilty way his eyes search for yours through the screen when he FaceTimes you to let you know you shouldn’t wait up for him. He’s even more torn up about it than you are most of the time, blowing your phone up with apologetic voice notes and text messages with too many emojis.

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: babe 😔😔

[you]:: yes baby?

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: 😔😔😔😔

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: 😩😩😭😭

[you]:: oh boy

[you]:: you’re not gonna be home in time for dinner, are you?

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: i don’t think so 😩😔 we have that game coming up so we’ll be practicing all night

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: i’m so sorry baby ☹️☹️ but i’ll have to miss dinner again 😭😭

[you]:: it’s fine, i’ll just find someone else to share my chicken with

[you]:: speaking of, u have ushiwaka’s #? i wanna see something

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: STOPPPP 😭😭 i’m sorry!!!

[you]:: allegedly

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: stop 😭😭 i mean it!! i love you pls don’t hate me 😩☹️

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: i’m really sorry babe ☹️☹️

[you]:: if ur apology doesn’t include dollar signs then i don’t wanna hear it

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: check ur email

[you]:: ??

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: 👀😇

You check your email, and sure enough, there’s a gift card there to your favorite clothing store, along with a note that reads “financial compensation for putting up with me <3 also if u ever share chicken with ushiwaka i’ll cry and then die so pls don’t.” It makes you laugh so hard you forget about being upset with him in the first place.

[you]:: i was joking!! u didn’t actually have to send me anything u weirdo

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: i know 😇😏😘

And when he does make it home that night with an apology on his lips, a bouquet of flowers, and a promise that he’ll make it up to you, it’s hard to do anything else besides forgive him. Because you know that no matter how crazy both of your schedules are, no matter how lonely you might feel without him at your side, he loves you more than anything, and you love him as much in return. And for a while, that’s enough.

Until it isn’t.

You’re thankful to have successfully made it through your first year of grad school with just a caffeine addiction and minor bags under your eyes, but not having to attend your classes or meet with your professors over the break means you’re at the apartment a lot more. You still have your job, but it’s becoming harder and harder to ignore Oikawa’s absence.

It’s not just dates he’s missing anymore. It’s family events, outings with your friends, getaway trips the two of you planned weeks in advance.

You know it’s not his fault. He has things he wants to accomplish, goals he set for himself long before he met you. The Olympics are coming up, and he needs to be ready. You can’t blame him for staying late to get in some extra practice, or for having to attend events with his teammates and his fans instead of you.

You can’t blame him for any of it, at least not without feeling selfish and unsupportive, and somehow that just makes it worse.

It takes you longer than you’d like to admit to build up the courage to talk to him about it. You almost don’t want to bring it up at all, but after weeks of missed dates and apology bouquets, of waking up without him and going to sleep before he gets home, you crumble. You don’t think you can keep grinning and bearing it anymore, not without starting to resent him.

You confront him while he’s sitting at the kitchen island in the middle of your shared apartment. It’s rare he doesn’t have a game on the weekend, even rarer he gets to spend the afternoon with you. It almost makes you reconsider –will this ruin your time together?– but you hold fast. You know that if you don’t bring it up now, then you probably never will, and you’re not sure you can take that much more silent heartache.

Oikawa, for his part, does well to listen as you speak. He watches you intently, pretty brown eyes soft and searching, as you tell him about how neglected you’re feeling, how lonely.

You know he’s not doing it on purpose. You know he’s meant every single one of his apologies, and that this is what you signed up for when you agreed to be in a relationship with him. And you love how driven he is, how determined he is to succeed.

You just...you miss him. That’s what it boils down to in the end: how much you miss him. You miss him now more than that time he left to spend a month back home in Japan while you stayed in Argentina, despite the fact that you’re in the same country this time, despite the fact that you share the same apartment. It shouldn’t be possible, but it’s true.

“I know your career is important, and I would never try to get in the way of that,” you tell him, quietly, tiredly. There’s an exhausted air around you he’s never seen before, the kind of whispered sadness that breaks his heart. “But sometimes, Tooru...sometimes it feels like I’m dating a ghost. And I’m not mad at you, or angry, I’m just...lonely.”

You finally look at him, and the emotion in his eyes startles you. He’s actually tearing up –“you’re such a crybaby,” you like to tease him when his eyes water during sad movies, but you always comfort him anyway– and it’s enough to make your eyes fill with tears, too. He looks so sad, so broken, like knowing he’s hurt you –even if it’s been completely unintentional– hurts him too.

He’s quick to stand and walk over to you, wrapping his arms around you tightly. You return the embrace, resting your head against his chest while one of his hands moves to cradle the back of your head.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers into your hair, and you can tell by the way his voice shakes that he means it. “I know things have been crazy lately, but that’s no excuse for leaving you here alone. I never want you to feel like you’re anything besides the most important person in my life. I love you so much, and I promise I’m going to fix this. Things will get better, I swear.”

And in that moment, you believe him. You trust him, after all, and you know he doesn’t make promises he can’t keep. So you let him mumble reassurances into your hair, let him kiss your breath away and shower you in the affection you’ve been missing for far too long.

It’s so easy to get lost in it, lost in him. Too easy.

He’s always been like that; charismatic and witty, magnetic and charming. It doesn’t help that he’s totally gorgeous, too. You knew, from the moment you met him, that if you ever let yourself fall in love with him, you’d be in trouble. It’s why you never took any of his advances seriously, at least not in the beginning.

But he was able to chip at your resolve with every teasing smile and playful wink, every reverent touch and whispered words meant just for you. He let you get to know him; the real him, not that flippant and perfect pretty boy facade he presents to the rest of the world, and so of course you fell for him, because how could you not?

Oikawa is stubborn and prideful, exhausting and even sometimes petty, but he makes you feel like you’re the strongest person he knows. He looks at you like you’re the only one he’ll ever want to see. He makes you laugh and keeps you on your toes, and you know right away –before you moved in together, before you told him you loved him– that you will never love anyone the way you love him, because no one else will ever be able to compare.

That’s why it’s so easy for you to believe him now. Because you know he loves you and that you love him, and the two of you are determined to make this relationship work. So when he promises that things will change, that he’ll be more present from here on out, you believe him.

It’s the first promise he’s ever made to you that he doesn’t keep.

For every event Oikawa does bother to make it to, he misses two more. Your parents, who adore him, wonder why they never see him anymore. Your friends start to ask if you even still have a boyfriend. You find yourself asking the very same thing.

You stop inviting him to events at your university and lunches with your friends. You don’t want to set yourself up for disappointment anymore, and you figure it’s easier to just save yourself from the inevitable. The apology gifts he gives you start to feel hollow, empty, just like your apartment. You stop opening them, letting them pile up in the corner of your living room. Eventually, he stops giving them to you.

You’re not sure if you’re thankful for that, or if it upsets you even more.

The Olympics get closer each day. Oikawa’s practices become more intense and even longer than they already were. There are so many things he needs to do now: games to play, meet and greets to attend. Sometimes if he’s out too late he just doesn’t come home at all. The team sets him up at a hotel, and he stays there for the night instead.

It gets harder to catch his scent on his pillow where it lays beside you in bed, untouched and forgotten. It should hurt you more, but it doesn’t.

There’s an event being held back in Japan, promising a night of drinking and dancing and schmoozing. All the investors and international players and coaches will be there, and you promised a while back to be Oikawa’s plus one.

The vindictive part of you wants to cancel on him, just so he knows how it feels, but you decide you can put your pettiness aside for a few nights if it means free booze and food and a comfortable stay at some ridiculously fancy hotel. You wonder if that’ll be enough to fill the hole he’s made in your heart.

Besides, you want to remind him that you’re the kind of person who keeps your word, even if he’s not.

The flight is long and exhausting. So is finding your hotel and forcing yourself to get dressed, but you get through it. Oikawa looks unfairly stunning in his suit, but you try not to notice. He arrives at the party with you on his arm, wearing a silky gown that matches his tie and jewelry that glitters whenever it catches the light.

You’ve barely talked to each other the whole way here, but at the party, amongst his teammates, old rivals, and friends, you’re the perfect couple. You smile, laugh, and dance exactly when you’re supposed to. You play your role so well that no one notices how numb you are, not even Oikawa, even though he’s supposed to know you better than anyone else.

Maybe that’s why you find yourself at the open bar. Oikawa’s off mingling with god knows who, swamped by dozens of people who are always seeking his favor, trapped in his orbit. They praise his hard work, his tenacity, his determination. Once upon a time, you would’ve done the same.

But things are different between you now. What used to be Oikawa’s endearing stubbornness is now an outright refusal to meet you halfway. His determination to be the best has become an inability to compromise; his passion has become obsession. It’s strange to think how all the things that used to make you love him now just make you resent him.

But the liquor here is free and flowing so you knock it back like water, and it’s almost enough to make you forget your heartbreak, your anger. Almost.

All the drinking eventually sends you to the bathroom. You touch up your makeup as best as you can and wash your hands with one of the several different soap options, exiting the bathroom noticeably drunker than you were when you went in.

You’re off-balance enough that when you run into what feels like a brick wall but is actually just a tall, broad-shouldered man, you stumble and nearly fall over. He reacts quicker than you do, catching your elbow and steadying you back on your feet.

He asks you if you’re all right and you reassure him that you are. You swear you’ve seen his face before, but you’re too tipsy right now to bother to remember where.

“I appreciate the help,” you say sincerely, patting his shoulder. “But I promise I’m okay. Thank you again, really.”

He gives you a look like he doesn’t believe you, and he’s proven right approximately five seconds later, when you turn on your heel to leave and nearly fall over again. Once more, he’s there to catch you.

You try to convince him that you’re okay; you’re just a little bit tipsy from all the champagne earlier, but he guides you to one of the stupid velvet couches in the hallway and makes you sit down. He tells you to stay there and wait for him, and you want to protest but he’s already gone before you can make any real sort of argument.

When he returns, it’s with a bottle of water, which you sheepishly accept. He stays with you as you drink it, and your vision and stomach start to settle. You thank him again for all his help. He tells you it’s no big deal, and when he introduces himself as Ushijima Wakatoshi, you laugh so hard you almost spit water all over yourself.

Ushijima raises an eyebrow at you. “Is there something about my name that amuses you?”

“No, no, nothing like that.” It takes more effort than it should, but you’re thankfully able to force yourself to stop laughing. Talk about ironic encounters. “It’s just– I’ve heard of you before.”

“Are you a fan of volleyball?”

You resist the urge to snort, sending him an amused smile instead. “Something like that.”

The two of you chat for a little while, and it’s a surprisingly pleasant conversation. You quite like his company, and you appreciate how he’s willing to keep an eye on you solely out of the kindness of his heart, just to make sure you’re really okay. It’s hardly necessary anymore –the water’s doing a great job at sobering you up– but it’s a nice distraction from the reason you started drinking in the first place.

Or it was, until you start to hear that very same reason calling your name from somewhere down the hall. His voice gets closer and closer, and you shut your eyes, bracing yourself.

“What the hell?”

You open your eyes and suddenly Oikawa is in front of you, eyebrows drawn together and lips pulled into a deep frown. You can only imagine what you look like to him right now, low-eyed and tipsy and sitting on a couch next to his oldest rival.

You can already see the anger in his eyes, the suspicion. He’s jealous, and it’s absolutely ridiculous because he has no right to be. Not after ignoring you for so long. Not after reminding you over and over again that when it comes down to it, you’ll always be second place to his career.

You haven’t been flirting with Ushijima, but now you wonder if maybe you should have. There’s a bitter part of you that wants to hurt Oikawa as much as he’s hurt you, even if it’s only for a moment.

Ushijima seems completely oblivious to the situation, which you’re sure just infuriates your boyfriend even more. He’s described to you in great detail how one of the things he finds most frustrating about Ushijima is how completely and utterly unbothered he is by everything.

“Oikawa,” the man closest to you greets, standing up. “It’s good to see you.”

“Ushiwaka.” The smile your boyfriend directs to his old rival is tight-lipped and void of any of its usual warmth. Oikawa’s gaze settles on you next, eyes narrowing even further. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Come on, let’s go.”

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is plain, dull, as you tilt your head at him mockingly. “Do I know you?”

“Stop being cute.” The way he practically snaps it makes it clear he doesn’t think you’re being cute at all. In fact, he actually looks pretty pissed, and you almost smile at the realization. As petty as he can be, it’s clear you’re better at this than he is. “It’s getting late. It’s time for us to leave.”

Ushijima’s gaze slides over to you. “Do you know him?”

But you’re not looking at him. You’re looking straight at Oikawa, at the tenseness of his shoulders, the way he’s on the verge of fuming. Apparently, just the idea of you being alone with his oldest rival is more concerning to him than the fact that you’ve barely spent any time with each other in the past two months. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Of course.” You stand, closing the short distance between yourself and Oikawa. “He’s my boyfriend. My loving, devoted, perfect boyfriend.”

You place the hand that’s not holding your water bottle against his chest, perching on your toes to deliver a sweet kiss to his cheek. When you pull away, the stain of your lipstick remains, and you wonder if he can feel the resentment in it.

“I just forget sometimes, is all. You know, since we never see each other.”

You don’t bother to examine the look on his face. You can’t find it in yourself to care anymore. You turn to Ushijima instead, offering a tired but genuine smile.

“Thank you again for your help, Ushijima. It was a pleasure to officially meet you. Have a good night.”

You turn on your heel and walk away, down the hall and past several magnificent paintings, past any apology you would normally be ready to offer. It’s petty and deliberate, the kind of reaction you didn’t think you were capable of before this, but it’s all you have left. Oikawa doesn’t care, hasn’t cared for a while actually, so neither will you.

You don’t know what he says to Ushijima or if he even says anything at all, but you do hear his footsteps when he runs after you. They slow as he gets closer, but you don’t stop walking, don’t turn back to look.

“Are you fucking kidding me? What– what the fuck was all that back there, huh?”

You stop. Slowly, you turn to look at him, but you don’t say anything. You just stand there, watching, waiting, feeling absolutely nothing as you do.

“‘It’s a pleasure to meet you.’” It’s a poor imitation of your voice, but the intention is there. “So what, I don’t spend enough time with you and suddenly it’s okay for you to flirt with someone else?”

You laugh without humor. “That’s what you’re stuck on? The fact that I had a conversation with him and not the part where I said we never see each other? You truly have a gift, Tooru.”

The frown on his face deepens, but the anger in his eyes softens a little, replaced by a hint of guilt. There’s regret there, too, over not keeping the promise he made to you. You would be more moved by it if you weren’t so completely infuriated right now.

He closes his eyes, letting out a sigh. “I’m not going to have this argument with you. Not here.”

“Where should we have it then, hm? In the lobby? At the hotel? We’re damn sure not having it when we get home, because you’re never fucking there!”

You don’t mean to scream at him, but that’s what comes out. You’re not sure which one of you is more surprised by it. Oikawa stares at you, wide-eyed and stunned, as if you’ve just slapped him, and you stare back, breathing hard. You’re so focused on each other you don’t even notice you have an audience until you hear a new, familiar voice speak.

“Hey.” Iwaizumi steps between you, concerned and cautious.

He’s the only one here, thank god, but his appearance reminds you that this is definitely not the time or the place for any of this. You shouldn’t care who overhears you, but as angry as you are, you’re not selfish enough to air out your relationship’s problems in front of all of Oikawa’s friends and colleagues. You still love him, after all, even if it’s hurting you to do so.

Iwaizumi casts a wary glance between you and his best friend, almost like he’s preparing himself to play the unwilling referee in what seems to be an inevitable fight. Any other time, you might’ve laughed at the look on his face, but not now. “Everything okay, you two?”

It’s not. It hasn’t been for a while, and right now Oikawa’s looking at you like he’s finally realizing that too.

The car ride back to the hotel is eerily silent. You and Oikawa share no words, no fleeting glances; you don’t even sit close enough to touch each other, not even accidentally. The ride up to your floor is spent in a similar fashion, a cold distance settling between you that’s never been there before.

Or maybe it’s been there for a while, and it took you screaming at him in the middle of a party for the two of you to notice it.

Miraculously, you make it into your room in one piece. The two of you remove your coats and shoes in that same suffocating silence. You make it to the bedroom without exchanging a single word, and he takes a seat on the bed while you sit in front of the vanity and begin removing your jewelry.

Another long stretch of silence later, and then he’s meeting your eyes in the mirror to ask, “Can we talk?”

You consider telling him to go fuck himself instead, but somehow you bite down the urge.

“About what?” You take off your necklace, a pretty golden chain with your birthstone on it that he got you for your birthday. “About how I wasn’t flirting with Ushijima? Because I wasn’t, if that’s what you’re still so torn up about.”

“I know you weren’t,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. It’s a bit longer than you remember; that’s how long it’s been since you’ve really gotten the chance to look at him. “I don’t know why I said that.”

“I do. You were jealous.” Your earrings are the next to go, another gift from him. He’s scattered himself into so many pieces across your life; you’re not sure how you’ll ever be free of him, or if you’ll ever want to be. “But you had no reason to be. I would never do that to you.”

“I know.” He looks down, fidgets with his fingers, meets your gaze again through the mirror. His tie is loosened around his neck, making him look disheveled in just the way you like. “I’m sorry.”

“Great.” Your tone is short, clipped, as you finally remove the last of your jewelry. “Is that all?”

“Please don’t do that. I’m trying to have a conversation with you here, so that we can fix this. I mean, don’t you want to talk about everything, especially after tonight?”

“I’ve already said everything I needed to say, Tooru.” You break your gaze from the mirror, turning to glance over your shoulder at him instead. “You know exactly what the problem is, just like I know you won’t do a single thing to change it. You can’t, because my feelings –our entire relationship– all of that stuff’s always going to come second to the things you want.”

The frown from earlier is back now, this time paired with a hard look, like he can’t believe you’re questioning his commitment, even though he’s given you dozens of reasons to do so. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” You rise to your feet, a dry, humorless laugh escaping your throat as you do. “Tell that to the countless dates you’ve missed. Tell that to the bed you hardly sleep in anymore, to all the times I’ve fallen asleep without you and then woken up only to realize you still weren’t there.”

The words feel heavy and bitter on your tongue, your anger growing the more you think about everything you’ve endured over the past few months, all the different ways he’s managed to disappoint you.

“There’s nothing untrue about it, Tooru. You just don’t care about me the way I care about you.”

“Are you seriously going to stand there and tell me I don’t care about you?” he demands. “Of course I care. I love you, dammit. How could you ever think I don’t?”

“How couldn’t I? God, have you seriously not heard a single thing I’ve said this entire time? I’m practically in this relationship by myself, and you’re doing absolutely nothing to change that!”

“You think I like having to leave you on your own so much? You think it doesn’t break my heart seeing the look on your face every time I have to tell you I can’t make it to all the things I want to be there for?” He’s on his feet now, hand jabbing at his chest, like if he could rip out his heart and show you the scars there, he would. “Because it does, okay? It makes me fucking miserable, but what else am I supposed to do?”

“You’re supposed to be there, Tooru!” You don’t know when you started crying, but you are. You’re yelling too, hands shaking, voice raw. “You’re supposed to be there when I need you, not make stupid promises you can’t keep! And even if you can’t be there all the time, you’re at least supposed to try!”

“I am trying! I’ve been trying this whole time, and you know that!” He sounds as exasperated and raw as you do, waving his arms around, red-faced and distressed. “You knew what my goals were before we started dating. I never hid them from you. You knew exactly what I wanted, you knew how hard I would have to work, how hard it would be for us, and you agreed to be with me anyway! You promised me you wouldn’t let it come between us!”

“Well, that was before I knew how fucking impossible it would be!”

There’s nothing productive being exchanged between the two of you anymore. You’re just screaming at each other. You call him obsessed and self-absorbed; he calls you needy and demanding. He tells you to grow up and stop asking for so much, and you tell him he’s chasing a pointless dream.

You’re not trying to compromise with each other, or trying to make the other see your point of view. You both just want to hurt each other, and you do.

You’re crying by the end of it; so is he, but you both refuse to admit defeat. It’s one of the many things you have in common: your stubbornness. You’re out of breath and hurting and there’s a small part of you that just wants him to hold you, but at the same time, you can’t stand the sight of him anymore.

You storm out of the room before he gets the chance to, looking back to catch him throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. You throw yourself onto the couch and opt to sleep there for the night, because you know that if you don’t, you’ll probably end up strangling each other.

Oikawa, for once, is wise enough not to follow you, but there’s a quiet voice inside your heart that wishes he did.

You wake up the next morning with a stuffy nose and a migraine. The price of crying yourself to sleep, you suppose. Your appetite is gone but you know that if you don’t eat anything soon the pain behind your skull will only get worse, so you force yourself to stand from the couch.

You step on something hard, eyes widening at the indignant noise of protest it lets out in response. You lose your footing almost immediately, toppling over onto the carpet. It’s everything you can do to throw out your hands and avoid smacking your forehead against the coffee table.

“What the fuck, Tooru?” You scowl when you realize it’s not a random object you’ve tripped over, but rather your own boyfriend, who for some inconceivable reason is laying on the floor beside the couch. “It’s bad enough we spent last night fighting– now you’re trying to kill me, too?”

“I could say the same thing to you!” Oikawa exclaims, returning your scowl with equal exasperation. He’s rubbing at his chest, a pout tugging at his lips as he groans. “You just stepped on my chest. I could have died.”

“Oh, bite me, drama queen.” You roll your eyes, preparing to stand up again, but then you notice the dark circles on his usually flawless skin, the messiness of his hair, and the fact that he’s still wearing his suit from last night, though the tie is gone and the first few buttons of his shirt are loosened. “...did you actually sleep out here? On the floor? Why didn’t you just sleep on the bed like a normal person?”

“I couldn’t.” He pouts even more, and when you nudge his leg with your foot, he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “It didn’t feel right without you. It never does. But it felt even worse after last night.”

It melts your heart, you admit. Just a little. But it’s not enough to make you forgive him or to forget your argument, and right now he’s looking at you like he knows that too.

Still, you feel the urge to remind him, “I’m still pissed at you.”

“I know. I’m really sorry. Not just for what I said last night, but for everything I’ve done before that. I never should’ve made you feel like you’re asking for too much, because you’re not, it’s just…” He takes a shaky breath, leans his head back against the couch from where he sits beside you on the floor. “...it’s hard.”

He turns his body slightly so he’s facing you fully. He starts to reach out a hand towards you, almost like he wants to cup your cheek, but he seems to think better of it and lets his hand drop down between you. You almost smile.

His eyes are hesitant as they meet yours, apologetic. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you, either.” You fiddle with the straps of your gown where they’ve slid down your arm. You were so exhausted and upset after your fight with him that you didn’t bother to change out of it. “...do you really think I’m needy and demanding?”

“Of course not,” he answers easily. “Do you really think I’m chasing a pointless dream?”

“Definitely not. Your dream isn't pointless, Tooru, it’s amazing, and it’s one I know you can reach.” Your hands brush where they rest between you. He tenses slightly, like he’s not sure you’ll want to touch him after everything, but you slide your fingers through his and watch as he lets out a quiet sigh of relief. “I was just angry.”

“Me too.” He squeezes your hand, and you let him pull you a bit closer to him, let him press a kiss to the back of your palm. “I don’t want to fight with you. And I definitely don’t want to disappoint you anymore.”

“I don’t want to blame you or resent you anymore, either.” You inch closer and he lets you rest your head against his shoulder, resting his own against yours in return. A clock ticks on the wall behind you. For the first time in a while, it feels like the two of you are back in sync. “So what are we gonna do about it?”

It’s the million-dollar question, it seems. And it’s the one that, after weeks of heartache, of missing each other and blaming each other at the same time, he finally has the answer to.

When you return to Argentina together, everything changes. Oikawa’s determination goes back to being something you love, now that he’s putting it towards making sure the two of you get to spend time together. He’s at the apartment more; does his best to get to dinner on time, to attend outings with your family and friends, and to meet you halfway at fancy restaurants and magnificent museums and shower you with his undivided attention.

It’s not perfect. He’s still busy, so he can’t be with you all the time, but the effort is there. You see it now more than ever, and it’s all you’ve wanted.

It doesn’t last.

You spend three blissful months together, both of you putting in an equal amount of effort to make it work, to understand each other and support each other, even when it seems impossible. But Oikawa’s schedule becomes more and more unyielding as time goes on, and it’s not long before the cycle of absence starts all over again.

If you had to really pinpoint the beginning of the end, you’d say it’s the night of your presentation. The research project you’ve spent countless hours working on has finally been completed, and tonight you’re going to share it with the public; this thing you’ve struggled with since you entered grad school, this thing you’ve put your blood, sweat, and tears into, both metaphorically and literally.

It goes incredibly well, as your professors and mentors reassured you it would. Your classmates, friends, and parents are all there, and they get to watch and glow with pride as the room erupts into applause once you finish your presentation, knocking the whole thing out of the park just like they knew you would.

The only one who isn’t there is Oikawa, despite you telling him about this ages ago, despite it being written on the calendar hanging on your fridge. You know he texted you with some excuse, but you don’t bother to check which one it was this time.

It should hurt more. It should make you want to shout and scream, to sob and cry, but it doesn’t. The anger you felt before, the fury and heartbreak; it’s not there anymore. It’s gone. You’re not sad or upset or disappointed. You just don’t feel anything at all.

Your friends offer to take you out for the night to celebrate, but you politely decline. Instead, you make your way to the apartment you share with Oikawa, finding it emptier than it’s ever been before.

Months ago, you might’ve cried. Now you do nothing, say nothing, feel nothing. It’s just numb.

By the time Oikawa does make it home, you’re already packed. You’re sitting at the table, waiting, still as a statue. He greets you in a flurry of brown hair and frantic movement, an apology you don’t care to listen to fast on his lips. He whirls by you so quickly he doesn’t even notice your bags stacked next to you.

“Shit, baby, I’m so sorry! I know I’m late, but I’m here now and I promise I won’t be going anywhere for the next few–…”

It takes him a few moments, a couple of double-takes, but finally, he registers the silence around him, the sight of you at the table, surrounded by your things. For once, he has no idea what to say; you see it in the way he looks at you, the way he freezes, wide-eyed and almost afraid.

“My research presentation was today,” you start. “It went great. They’re going to publish it in a journal.”

You watch his face crumple right before your eyes, watch the way his shoulders slump. He looks more defeated now than during any of his previous losses, and so, so incredibly guilty.

“But I thought it wasn’t until–...but it was, wasn’t it? Oh, god. I– I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I know you are.”

You stand up. The smile you send him is tired and a little sad, but it’s not bitter, at least not anymore. You’re past that now. You’d like to think you both are.

“I’m so proud of you, Tooru. You work harder than anybody I’ve ever known. I just know you’re going to reach every single one of your dreams.”

You mean it, too. Oikawa has an incredible future ahead of him. You’ve always known that. Once upon a time, you believed you might be a part of it, but not anymore.

“...but I also know that I can’t be with you when you do. I can’t– I won’t be second place for the rest of my life.”

He’s incredibly stubborn, and this time is no different. He tries to change your mind, tries to convince you to stay, but it’s far too little and far too late. Too much has happened between you two, and you just don’t have it in you to be disappointed anymore.

You love him. You do. You always will, and you tell him so, too. But just because you love someone, you remind him softly, doesn’t mean you’re meant to be with them. You love him enough to let him go, and you’re hoping he loves you the same.

“But you promised you’d stay,” he whispers, more heartbroken than you’ve ever seen him over all of this, over you. “You promised we’d figure it out. And now...now you’re just giving up on us?”

You place your keys on the table. The clock in your– no, his kitchen ticks along. It matches the slow, broken beating of your heart. He’s run out of time, and you’ve run out of chances.

“That’s just it, Tooru. I have nothing left to give you.”

This time when you leave, you don’t look back.

Written by: Dawn

[russadler]

All That Remains: Chapter Two

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

A look back to happier times and a defining conversation

A/N: Hey lol once again sorry I took so long. This chapter is relatively shortish (?) because it was originally part of the next chapter, but I decided to split it since it was getting long lmao. The next chapter will actually be coming soon I promise I was like almost finished but decided to publish this section since it was done and yall need to get fed.

Also another note I guess? I refer to Russell as “Adler” even though its third person Sophie centric. I believe since they came to know each other through work, Sophie only initially heard/knew of him by his last name and will still refer to him in her mind as such. I didn’t do this much in the first chapter but I thought about it and also it felt weird calling him Russell all the time LMFAOO

August 2nd, 1980

“…I’m surprised you never had kids.” 

It’s more of a question than a statement, and an admittedly nosey one. They’re currently in the midst of a very picturesque picnic in a field of their choosing, the pair of them eating lunch while sprawled across a spare blanket pulled from the back of Russell’s car. The man in question is currently laid on his side, chewing a strawberry and peering up at her with a curiously cocked eyebrow making an appearance over the rim of his aviators. 

Sophie wriggles under the scrutiny, a blush rising to her cheeks as she redirects her eyes towards her leather boots with a timid huff. They had been together for more than enough time by now, enough time for the lustre of having Russell Adler as her boyfriend to have worn off. Yet, even all these months later, a mere glance from the man was enough to leave her flushed and stumbling over her words. 

“I’m sorry —“ She rushes to apologize, sandwich suddenly forgotten as she picks sheepishly at a loose thread on her dress. She had meant to word things a little…differently, but who was she kidding? it wasn’t her place to ask such things in the first place.

With Russell, the more you pressed him, the further away he pulled. His trust came with patience and time, a small price Sophie didn’t mind paying. There were things he held close to himself, his marriage being one of them. It was obviously a sensitive topic, or at least one he didn’t enjoy talking about. She hadn’t intended to interrogate him about the fact he didn’t have any children despite being married for a little over a decade, it was his business. Only recently had he begun sharing that part of his life with her, and it was a sign of his trust that she deeply valued.  

And here she went, utterly obliterating that carefully constructed confidence because she seemed to lack a brain-to-mouth filter.

“You’re fine, kid.”  Russell soothes, interrupting her scattered thoughts. The woman manages to to will herself to look at him again, where his enlivened grin signaling he was more amused than offended by the statement. 

He sits up, and one of his hands moves to rub at her thigh in reassurance. “I admire that you’re always pretty straight to the point.” He notes lightheartedly, subtly pacifying her current flustered state.

The woman huffs, self conscious despite the comforting words. "It gets me in trouble way too much.” She confesses, biting into her sandwich a bit too harshly. It was true. She had a terrible habit of being too honest for as long as she could remember, and it had made for some terribly awkward experiences throughout her life.

“I’d argue telling the truth is a pretty good thing to get in trouble for.” Adler remarks in return, his hand remaining on her thigh as he continues with his lunch. She could tell he was making a point of appearing relatively unconcerned about the whole thing, likely in a bid to provide her some sense of consolation. The man was leaving little room for her to feel upset at herself. 

Sophie releases a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and relaxes, shoulders loosening as she finishes the last of her sandwich. 

There’s another beat of silence, and then it occurs to her that Russell had managed yet again to wriggle his way out of talking about himself. It was a common pattern, nearly every time she attempted to make conversation that centered around him, he would artfully steer the conversation away from himself and find a way to redirect the topic towards her. 

He was annoyingly good at it, too, and she was just starting to catch on that he was doing it in the first place. 

“Wait! You didn’t answer the question!” The brunette gasps, exasperated. “You always do this!” 

“Do what?” Russell retorts, behaving as if he were completely ignorant of what was the matter. He always acted as if he didn’t know.

“You always find a way to not answer me! Every time you change the subject and then hope I forget!” The woman laughs, failing miserably in her attempt to come across as annoyed. His behavior was maddening, but Sophie often found she was less irritated and more awestruck that the man was so artful at playing people. 

“I’d never do that, you’re just making things up.” Russell quips, mouth twisted with a lopsided smile as he continues the playful banter. “I love talking about myself, actually. Could do it all day.” 

Adler just keeps smirking, stuffing a strawberry into his mouth as he does. The younger rolls her eyes, because as much as she loved him, the man could seriously be a pain. “You don’t actually have to answer the question if you don’t want to. ” She adds, humor now absent from her voice as she quietly rearranges the bundle of wildflowers she had picked.

“I said it was fine, sweetheart. Don’t worry about it.” Russell tells her again, his voice calm and even as he continues to rub circles into her skin. There’s a brief pause, and suddenly the hand on her thigh stops moving. “Wait, do you want kids? Is this your way of asking?” He asks, his head suddenly shifting to level her with a steely gaze. Despite the presence of the aviators on his face, she can feel the intensity of his stare. The man’s demeanor had grown suddenly serious, alert even.

“No! I mean…kids are nice and all and I don’t mind them…but I’m not really dead set on having them.” She explains, her own hand darting to grasp Russell’s larger one. From one moment to the next, it had suddenly become her turn to offer reassurance. “In all honesty, I feel I’d quite rather do without them, really.” She returns the man’s heavy gaze with one of her own, both in search of his reaction and in the hopes of communicating her honesty. "I was just…curious.” She admits shyly.

It was the truth, she wasn’t one of those girls whose ultimate life goal was of being a housewife with the white picket fence, apple pies, and endless kids. There was nothing wrong with that ideal per say, but it wasn’t something she saw herself wanting. 

The woman wasn’t really looking to make children a part of her life. If it happened, it happened, but she could go without them and feel just fine about it. 

Russell, on his part, seemed relieved. Accepting her answer with a nod, his gaze moves towards the sky above as he gives her hand a short squeeze.

Then to her complete surprise, he decides to answer the question anyways. Sophie turns to look at the taller as he begins to speak, shifting to lay on her left side and face him as he leaned back on his hands. 

“Well...there’s a lot of reasons, really. First, my job.” Adler then pauses to spare her a brief glance, as if to ensure she understood what he was attempting to convey. It was no secret that Russell was often away, leaving her for weeks and sometimes months on end. She was never allowed to have any hint of what he was doing or even where he was going, all that she could know was that his work was very important and very dangerous. 

Sometimes she found herself sitting at home and just hoping he was still alive. Confirmation that he was okay only came when he either called her to say he was coming home (which was rare) or until he appeared out of the blue. It wasn’t a feeling she liked having, and a sentiment Russell hated subjecting her to.  

It was just the way it was, the way it had to be. Their relationship would always come second to work, Adler had made that very clear from the start. She was either in or out, and he made sure that she knew the price that she would be paying in being with him.

Russell sighs, the exhale sounding deep and tired before he continues. “It would be unfair to do that to a kid, they wouldn’t understand why their dad was away all the time...And it would have been unfair to my ex, she would have had to essentially raise them all on her own.” 

Sophie nods silently in understanding, the living scenario was on she had come to understand personally. The periods of absence would be difficult on both mother and child for various reasons, and it was good that the couple had weighed the risks.

“Some of the guys at work are okay with that, and have wives that were okay with that, but for us..?” He continues, voice even as he grasps one of the flowers she had stuffed into the picnic basket and begins rolling the stem between his thumb and pointer finger. “We didn’t want kids that bad. We were okay, just it being the two of us.”

“You both ended up going your separate ways, too. I could imagine if you had kids that would have been a nightmare.” She adds, a relatively astute observation but one that she felt was worth mentioning. They had made the right choice after all, it had seemed. 

“God, I’m thankful we didn’t for that reason especially.” Russell replies with audible relief, thankful that children hadn’t been something to consider in their subsequent divorce. 

There’s a moment of silence, and she thinks he’s finished speaking, especially seeing that he officially answered her question. 

But then he sits up properly, clearing his throat before speaking once more. “And all these years later my feelings about it are the same and I don’t regret it.” He tells her, sounding confident and assured as he rips most of the stem away from the main portion of the flower with a powerful yank. “Even if I wanted them now, I’m a bit too old to be a dad. So that ship has long sailed.” 

Sophie nods. Russell was a man of very few regrets, and his sense of judgement was one she had come to trust wholeheartedly. He turns to her, an arm reaching out to tuck a few locks of her hair out of the way before placing the remainder of the flower behind her ear. 

The woman smiles so hard her cheeks ache. Russell Adler was a romantic, despite the fact he vehemently denies it. It was true and no one was going to believe her ever. “I don’t think you really missed out, everyone I know who has kids just complains about them.” She states, still smiling.

The taller’s chest rumbles with a chuckle. Having carefully maneuvering the food out of the way, he then wraps an arm around her shoulders, he pulls her down to lay at his side as she lets out a surprised squeak. “Have we been talking to the same people?” He asks. 

“If one of them is named Jason Hudson, then yes.”

Russell laughs then, and it’s music to her ears.

[bugsyfics]

Could’ve Just Asked

Yami Sukehiro x Reader

Fandom: BC

Summary: After touching one of Captain Yami’s most prized possessions, Y/N finds herself on thin ice.

Warnings: Smut/notsfw, spanking, masturbation, very slight praise and domination

Word Count: 1.3k

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Captain Yami was out with the other members of the Black Bulls upon request of the Wizard King. Today you weren’t needed, because you visited him a couple days prior about the new mission. While you could’ve gone anyway, this was a good time to catch up on some well needed cleaning. You dusted, moved someone’s random pair of shorts, and threw away an oddly immense amount of trash. You got to the split corridor and took a little detour down the men’s living quarters. You’ve only been down there a couple times, but curiosity was getting the best of you.

There was no denying that you enjoyed looking at your captain and often wondered how he would feel on top of you, but because of the dynamic you two shared it made it almost impossible to express how you felt. Since you’d joined the Black Bulls, it’s always felt deeply inappropriate how hot this man made you with only a couple words or a pat on the back. It was even worse when you two would train alone, away from the others. Maybe your little flirts weren’t enough for him to catch on or possibly he was simply ignoring your advances.

As you passed Yami’s bedroom it took everything in you not to look at his door. You walked a little further, but quickly turned on your heel to walk back towards his room.

“Hm, I don’t know if I… no…” You contemplated intruding while your hand remained on the doorknob.

“Fine.” You opened the door.

It was… normal? A small pile of clothes and an unmade bed but nothing out of the ordinary. You did notice though, a shimmer from across the room. After quickly shutting the door, you made your way to the glimmering object to find a brand new katana placed against his nightstand. You knew it was a bad idea, but you really wanted to see the beauty of this finely crafted sword. You pulled it out slightly admiring the polished finish — possibly too long to not notice Yami entering his room.

“Get out or I’ll kill you!”

“Ahh! I’m so sorry! I’ll leave, j-just let me explain!” You sputtered hoping he wouldn’t kick your ass.

“I was cleaning a-and I wandered down the hallway a-and I saw your room. Then I-I saw—”

“Shut the hell up!”

“I’m sorry capitan,” you apologized.

Why did you have to keep doing stupid shit like this? No only did you invade his privacy but you also touched his brand new katana— Yami’s katana. Shit, you put your position in the squad in jeopardy and ruined the chances of him ever being interested in you. What would the other squad members thi—

“Hello? I asked you to hand it over,” Yami pointed to the sword with his eyebrow raised.

“You’re being creepy…” he continued and eyed you.

Yami grabbed your arm and released the katana from your grip. He laid the sword flat on his palms and pulled it out completely, inspecting it.

“Well, I guess you didn’t mess it up too bad. You know, acting like a dumbass and all,” Yami spoke and shook his head.

You opened your mouth to protest but remained quiet instead.

“You came in here just to look at a sword? Gonna steal it or somethin’?”

“No, I was just snooping. It was rude of me,” you muttered.

“Stop apologizing. Don’t care, just don’t do it again,” Yami grumbled.

He closed the katana back down into its scabbard and sighed.

“Ok, get out,” he spoke suddenly and walked you to the door.

After you walked out, Yami leaned against the doorframe.

“You know Y/N, you don’t have to sneak around. If you wanted to visit and talk you could’ve just asked,” Yami laughed and closed the door.

Did he say visit? What did that even mean? Well, you were just glad you made it out alive. Your palms were sweaty and after that encounter you needed a cold shower.

The next day...

After breakfast, all the squad members sat in the main room chatting. You assumed no one knew about what happened the day before, but you sat by yourself just in case. Well, not entirely by yourself since Zora was across from you snoozing, as always.

“Be quiet and sit down,” Yami clapped his hands together, “I’m sending a couple of you on a mission.”

“Julius needs to speak to Asta, Finral, and Charmy again. So, go do that or whatever,” Yami announced nonchalantly and sat back down to read the paper.

Everyone else traveled to the Noble Realm to shop or went outside to train. You quietly sat and drank your coffee hoping no one would notice that you were missing.

You heard a gruff voice from above you, “Y/N, come here.”

Yami?! What does he want? He stood over you and motioned you to follow.

“Yes, captain.”

You both ended up outside his room.

“What are we—”

“We have free-time. I thought you wanted to talk,” Yami shrugged.

“Sur— I mean, yeah we can,” you smiled awkwardly.

Yami sat down on his bed and stared at you, blowing out a puff of smoke from his cigarette. You stood against his desk, in the corner of the room, assuming it wouldn’t be appropriate to sit on his bed with him. The uncomfortable silence made you flustered and you slightly pinched your leg to right yourself.

“Are we gonna stare at each other all day?” Yami surmised.

“I don’t really have anything to talk about necessarily,” you spoke.

“Mhm, ok well we can leave—”

“Wait! I-I mean um… hold on. Tell me about your katana, please captain,” you blurted.

“You wanna hear about my katana? Nothing else you want to talk about?” Yami asked.

“Yeah… Well, no. I’m just interested in learning about it. It looks like it’s made with good craftsmanship.”

Yami stood suddenly, pulling his katana from the holster on his waist and motioned you over. He sat back down on his bed and waited for you to join. You awkwardly sat beside him and you couldn’t help your cheeks from turning bright red from the closeness.

“Put your hands out,” Yami instructed, “The blade is sharp so don’t do anything stupid.”

The sword laid balanced across both of your palms.

“The handle is called tsuka,” Yami began and stroked the top, “...and the blade is called sori.”

He took two fingers and slowly ran them across the surface of the blade.

“The only authentic ones are from back home, but since I haven’t gone back, I get them imported.”

“Wow, it’s a really beautiful sword,” you admired softly.

“Mhm, it’s quite… personal to me,” Yami cleared his throat and grabbed the katana from your hands.

He glanced over at your face with an unreadable expression and shifted away.

“I think that’s enough talking for today. I’m gonna take a nap,” Yami rushed and stood from the bed.

“Can I come back tomorrow?” You asked quietly and walked to the door.

Yami pulled his cigarette from his lips and crushed the butt into the cigarette tray on top of his nightstand.

“Eh, I don’t know… I think today was enough,” he responded curtly.

“Did I do something wrong?” you began to pry.

Yami stood silent staring at you for a moment. He finally made his way over, and towered over your small frame.

“I hate it when you act innocent,” Yami growled lowly and tilted your chin upwards slowly, “You know exactly what you’re doing, princess.”

“Captain… What are you talking about?” you questioned, puzzled by his sudden change in mood.

“I haven’t caught on for a while, but I’m not stupid. You like when I tower over you like this… or when I command you to do what I want,” Yami taunted and rested his hands above your head.

“You snooped in my room because you couldn’t get enough of me, huh?” Yami chuckled and stared deeper into your nervous gaze.

“C-captain I-I,” you stuttered and clenched your thighs together to suppress the tingling from your core.

“There’s no need to confess, Y/N. I already know how you feel,” Yami said. “I guess I was a little oblivious. I thought you had a childish crush, but it seems like there’s something more.”

Yami scratched the back of his head and his eyes traveled down your body to your clenched thighs. With one hand still above you, the other traced down your side and gripped your thigh gently. He began to rub small circles on your skin with his thumb.

You bit your lip and glanced up at Yami’s dark gaze from under your lashes.

“D’ya like that princess?” he teased as his hand traveled further underneath your skirt.

“Yes captain,” you sighed.

You were soaking through your panties and you were nervous about what Yami would think. His low voice and his digits pressed on you made your skin burn.

Yami’s eyes grew a little when he reached your panties. He took his middle finger and ran it over your heat feeling how your wetness pooled under you.

“You want me to touch you some more?” Yami spoke into your neck.

You nodded eagerly, opening your legs wider for his massive hand.

“Mm…”

Yami rubbed faster over your clothed pussy. He pulled his hand away and leaned down to your ear.

“Get on the bed. Head down and ass up, now.” Yami ordered you.

He could tell you liked being dominated, but you also like being praised and he stepped into that role nicely.

You scurried over to his bed and did what you were told. A little part of you wanted to push him further.

You reached under your skirt and played with yourself, bucking into your hand. You pushed your ass out and turned your head to watch him.

Yami cooly walked to his nightstand, grabbed a cigarette and lit it while he watched you. That was definitely not the reaction you expected.

Smoke billowed out from his lips as he spoke, “That’s a nice show you’re putting on. Maybe you can get yourself off instead.”

“Wha- no, I was just—”

“Touch yourself,” Yami demanded.

He watched as you hesitated and moved your hand away. Yami roughly pulled your hand back under you, placing it on your core.

“Do it.”

You had no choice other than to play with yourself in front of him, but it was technically your fault. You gently rubbed over the fabric and grazed across your aching pussy. The constant friction of the panties across your clit made it difficult to stay steady on your knees. You moaned incoherently into the bedspread and began slowing your movements.

Yami grabbed a handful of your ass and smacked it harshly, “Faster. Keep going like a good girl.”

“Yam-Yami please. I c-can’t…” you panted.

“Do I have to tell you again, princess?” Yami threatened while pinching your ass.

“No, sir… but I just need you,” you pleaded and grinded into the air.

With a grunt, Yami pulled you to the edge of the bed with your ass propped. He tore your panties off of you and spread your pussy open to rub harsh circles on your swollen bud, making your toes curl.

“Mm fuck. That feels so, so good, captain!”

“Something tells me this is your favorite place to be touched,” Yami chuckled, quickening his movements.

You bucked harder, fucking yourself down onto Yami’s hand.

“Shit, it looks like your gonna come, princess.”

He pulled you back into his chest and continued his movements while you came undone. You felt yourself on the brink of tears as you slumped down into Yami’s arms. You heard him breathing hard behind you as his erection poked into your lower back.

“Damn princess, that was only the first round! Hah! I knew you weren’t that innocent,” Yami teased and wrapped his arms around your waist.

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A/N: I hoped you like this Yami smut! Thanks for reading 💕

— bugs

[solinarimoon]

On Raven’s Wings - chapter one

A/N: Slow burn, angsty OC character insert for portions of season 3 for The Last Kingdom. The moodboard is mine with images from Pinterest.

Warnings: Canon violence, implied sexual mistreatment

Word Count: 4,280

Masterlist

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Flames danced and sent shadows across the faces of the people huddled around its warmth.  The approaching winter air sent chills and shivers along the skin of the Danes in the camp.  A promise of the cold season to come.

Sihtric sat quietly, listening. Observing.  Most of the conversation surrounding him was menial, inconsequential.  But the dark-haired Dane made sure his ears were ready to tune into any important details.  Anything that might be useful to him and his cause.

Across from him, the witch, Skade sat watching too.  Her piercing gaze content to be focused on others for the moment.  Whenever her eyes did land on him, he had to suppress a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold.  Her stare gave the eerie sense of piercing through to someone’s core and seeing them for all their fears. Their hidden secrets.  

She made him uneasy.

“Who is that, Bloodhair?” Haesten’s words seized Sihtric’s interest, “She joined us with your men from the south, did she not? Have you another witch you’ve been hiding?” 

Casually, so as not to rouse any suspicion, Sihtric turned to stare along with the rest of his companions across the width of the camp where Haesten had gestured.

A woman sat, alone and huddled near a small fire, her flaxen hair whipping in the growing wind.

Unable to resist further agitating Bloodhair’s ire, Haesten continued, “Have you kept another Seer hidden away from us so someone would not steal her too?”

Bloodhair had made no indication of answering Haesten’s questions.  Nor had his eyes traveled to look across the camp at the woman in question.  His stare was fixed as it had been all night.  Expressing unspoken words across the flames.

Skade stared back at him as she replied, “Muninn is no Seer.”

Feeling compelled to break his reserve, Sihtric questioned, “Muninn.  Like Odin’s raven.  Why do you call her that?”

“Because she has been useful.  She provides information,” Bloodhair broke his silence, his voice dark and full of frustration.  Still, he did not let his eyes leave Skade.

Sihtric turned his attention back to the young woman, his ears still trained on the conversation around him.

“A spy?” Cnut questioned, joining the conversation and staring at the woman before turning to look at Bloodhair.

“Like Odin’s Ravens, she has fed us information about the Saxons.  And in return we have let her live.” Skade sneered the response, her mouth quirking upwards in a crooked smile.

“Is she Saxon?” Haeston questioned, “She has a strange look.”

Indeed, the woman did seem out of place clashing with the Danish camp.  Her hair, the color of sand on a beach, was partially pulled back in a loose braid.  A bow and quiver rested at her side, of Saxon make.  And her dress was similar in design to those Saxon women wore, having none of the ornament or decoration often adorning Danish garb.  

Yet something in the set of her shoulders felt familiar.  At ease in her surroundings, if not unhappy with them. 

“She does not know what she is,” Skade smirked back at Bloodhair as she answered Haesten’s question, “She does not know who she is.  And she will serve her purpose.”  The Seer’s words were cryptic as ever.

“And what purpose would that be?” Cnut’s question hung in the air.

 “It will reveal itself,” Skade answered, her words biting like the cold, “in time.”

Slowly, conversations melted into other topics. Sihtric allowed his eyes to wander back to the young woman.  

As the hour grew late, more and more of the camp retired to their tents for warmth and rest.

When Sihtric finally stood to walk to his own tent, she was still there, watching the flames.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The fight did not last long.  All of the odds were in Bloodhair’s favor as he attacked and beat Haesten down.

The hulking Danish warlord had grown tired of Haesten’s insults and jibes. His constant picking. They had made the square. They would settle the bad blood by shedding one another’s until one remained alive. The victor. And Bloodhair was a great fighter. 

As expected, he held Haesten under his thumb. Poised to humiliate and defeat.  Until Bloodhair began to falter.  As if struck by a spell.  Staggering, the towering warrior no longer had the wits to fight back, instead only able to block and deflect Haesten’s blows. 

He reeled around on his knees, the snow and mud sliding underneath him.  His eyes scanned the crowd. Sudden and clumsy, Bloodhair lurched towards Skade, a look of betrayal lining his face.  And Skade did nothing but smirk at his distress from her place in the crowd.

Sihtric watched along with the gathered men, in grim understanding.  Skade was the orchestrator of this dance.  And she led the steps, ending with her knives striking the life from Bloodhair’s flesh.  

Sihtric had quailed at the swift movements and sudden appearance of her knives, the action ended before he could even register it. 

As the fallen warrior’s life flowed from his body, Haesten stepped forward.  Kneeling, he placed Bloodhair’s blade in his hand.  A final gesture of respect for a fallen warrior.  The two men had begrudged each other throughout their campaign.  Chided one another.  But a warrior deserved a warrior’s death.  

Sihtric stared on at the grim display.

“She is poison to all men,” he whispered his thoughts to the wind while the crowd dispersed.

A quiet voice spoke, low and full of scorn, “Her malice reaches beyond men.”  

Muninn had materialized as if vapor at his elbow. 

The woman’s face betrayed a deep hatred, a rage burning under her surface. 

Attempting to mask how startled her appearance made him, Sihtric turned on his heel to look at her, assessing her. 

Her long blonde hair, soft and wind-swept.  Her head was of a height with his chin and her shoulders were set firm, arms crossed, wrapping herself in her cloak. 

“You are the one Bloodhair called Muninn,” Sihtric gauged, noting how she flinched at the name, her mouth pursed and nose creased, “his Saxon spy.”

“I am neither,” she whispered, voice laced with scorn, “and that is not my name.” 

“Is it not true that you fed him information about the Saxons, about your own people.”

“Half truths.  He was meant to be a means to an end,”

She huffed, before breathing out, weakly, “An end that can no longer be.”

Sihtric frowned. There was a slight quaver in her voice. A wavering. Very slight. But he heard it. 

She did not look at him. But continued to stare at the corpse of Bloodhair before shifting her head up, eyes focusing on something else. Sihtric turned to follow her eyes and saw Skade watching them. One brow raised and that daring smirk gracing her lips before Haesten took the witch by the arm and escorted her away from the crowd.

A shift in the air at his side let him know Muninn was gone. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You were Uhtred’s man?”

Her voice broke the silence that permeated between them.  The pair sat watching at the edge of the camp, while Skade gathered her herbs and leaves from beneath the tree in the field.

Sihtric had been shadowing the witch, learning her routines when he had come upon Muninn.  She sat, legs crossed beneath her on the ground, a bundle of sticks and some bird feathers at her side.  He watched as she used a knife to shape the sticks, molding them as if they were clay.  He was supposed to be learning about Skade, but the rhythmic sound of her knife scraping along the sticks, whittling them into straight shafts was mesmerizing.  

The constant vigilance and scouting throughout the camp wore on him. And the sound of her knife against the wood was like a mother’s gentle humming. A rhythm that sets one to ease and calms the nerves. He was entranced. 

Until her voice roused him.  He did not even know she was aware of his presence behind her.  He closed the distance between them and walked up to stand beside her.

“Uhtred Ragnarson?” she questioned again, “You were his oathman?”

He turned his eyes to look down at her, still working at the wood in her hand.  When he did not answer her, she paused, turning her head up to meet his eyes waiting for his reply.

“It is true, I was,” he conceded.

“Your name is Sihtric.” This time it was not a question, but he answered anyway.

“That is my name.”

Muninn continued to look at him, before probing, “Sihtric…” 

She let his name hang in the air.

“Sihtric Kjartanson,” he replied, giving her his father’s name.  He could not be sure, but he thought he saw something in her face when he spoke the name Kjartan.  A flicker of something, beneath her surface.

“Why are you watching her?”

He furrowed his brow, caught off guard by her probing. He felt immense scrutiny from others in the camp for his abandonment of his lord. But the calculating looks from these two women were the only ones that made his lies falter. 

Returning his eyes to watch Skade in the distance, he still felt her scrutiny. He huffed before finding his reply. 

“In truth, I do not know what I wish to find by watching her.” It was not a lie. He didn’t know exactly what he needed to find but knew he needed to watch her to find it. To have something to bring to Uhtred. 

“Like many poisons, she can be addicting,” at her words, he cut his eyes to see the woman had returned her attention to fletching her arrows with the feathers at her side. Her fingers moved deftly, with purpose.  After a few moments pause, she continued her thought, “but I do not think that is what brings your eyes to her, Sihtric. Son of Kjartan.”  

Now he heard it.  The scorn and anger lacing her words.  The disdain he had detected earlier now plain.

Before he was able to register her anger and form a reply, she had gathered her arrows and was gone.

Sihtric was left standing, watching as she strode back through the camp, her honey blonde hair flying in the cold and her cloak billowing behind her.  She did not look back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking briskly along the corridor of tents and cookfires, she pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, bracing from the cold.

She had been skirting the edges of the camp, trying to remain away from questions, away from prying eyes and wandering hands.  Hidden.  But still she needed to get to her tent for the night.  

In the weeks since Bloodhair’s death, she had to ferret out the safest times for her to move through the camp without drawing attention to herself.   

Better to exist along the edges. The periphery. Like a ghost. 

Attracting the eyes of the men in the camp would not help her cause. 

But neither would skulking along from shadow to shadow like an assassin. 

“I cannot appear as a threat,” she thought to herself continually, “Better to be a mouse. A casual presence that does not bring one's focus when you are quiet and keep away from the crowd.”

“The bear cub disguised as a mouse,” she mused. Her lips curled into a small, sad grin at the thought. 

“Muninn!”

The shout startled her, stopping her feet fast to the ground. 

“Damn that Raven,” she cursed under her breath before turning towards the voice. “I am no Raven,” she finished in her head while scanning to her right for the voice.

“Over here, little Raven,” it was Haesten, leering at her from across a table, “Bloodhair’s other pet.”

Several others were scattered around the table. Cnut at one end, a knife in his hand.  Casually he balanced the tip against the wood, toying with the hilt. Not putting enough pressure to scar the wood but not letting the knife fall either. 

“Not threatening,” the young woman thought, “but accessible.” 

Skade sat next to Haesten, her body turned slightly towards the hulking man yet somehow still detached.  It was clear to the young woman that though Skade was with Haesten since returning to camp, the seer did not deign the man worthy of her full devotion.  The seer’s gaze followed the woman as she approached the table, cold and calculating.

The final men at the table had their backs to her.  One with long dark hair, scattered with braids and matted knots.  His head was slumped forward across the wood, a forgotten cup of ale nestled loosely in his sleeping hand.  

But the other man was awake, a cup grasped in an arm draped over the table and the other resting on his lap, close to his own knife.

She noticed how Sihtric’s shoulders tensed as she drew close to the table before he shifted his posture to cover his discomfort at her presence near him.

But she could not allow herself to linger on her own displeasure of the company. 

Haesten leered at her, “Where have you been hiding since your Lord’s,” he paused, clearly punctuating his perceived victory, “death?”

Muninn stood still, meeting his eye, offering no response.

“Well, Muninn,” Cnut joined in, “have you no tongue to answer?”

The young woman shifted her eyes towards the red haired Dane and back to Haesten.

“I have been here, lord.  In the camp.”

“Ah yes, but where have you squirrelled yourself away to hide?” The hulking Dane leaned forward on his arms, before shifting a hand over to grasp at Skade’s arm posessively.  His voice was thick with the sluggish effect of drink.

“Skade has told us that you made yourself useful to the late Earl Sigird.  I wonder, girl, if you could make such a bargain again?”

Haesten’s tone suggested to the woman and all those at the table what use he thought she could be.

“Muninn is not to be touched.”

Skade’s words rang firm in the night air.

Breathing a slow sigh of relief, the young woman’s hand slowly relaxed, still gripping her cloak against her for warmth.  All eyes turned towards the witch.

“She has a role to play in our fight.  And it is not to be humped by a man.”

Sighing, weary of the intrigue, Cnut leaned back in his chair, before looking back at Muninn.  The young woman still stood, cloak pulled tight across her chest, bow and quiver of arrows slung across her back.

“Well Muninn,” she bristled at the name, but said nothing as Cnut continued, “if you are not for humping, how did a Saxon woman come to be held in such regard for Bloodhair?”

The young woman turned her head to stare at Cnut, her mouth a thin line.

“Bloodhair raided my home.  He killed my family,” but Muninn’s scorn was interrupted by Skade.

“They were not your family.”  The witch spoke loud, clear, and with a laugh.  Muninn’s eyes snapped back to meet Skade’s.  

She could feel the eyes of the table on her.  She did not need to turn her head to know Sihtric’s gaze was watching her too.  

Muninn battled within herself over how to respond before finding her wits to reply aloud, “In this you are wrong, witch.”

Then choosing not to linger on the topic, she returned her attention to Cnut, “after the raid, I was left alive.  I did not wish to die and the witch offered Bloodhair a vision.  She told Bloodhair I was to live.  So I live.  If you are asking me to earn my place here, I can hunt.”

Her words left no argument over whether she would willingly submit to any less favorable treatment to earn her place in the camp.

“And you know information about the Saxons,” Haesten interrupted her.  “Is that not how you earned your name, little Muninn?  By whispering words of your people into Bloodhair’s ear?”

Scanning the faces watching her, she replied, “It is true.  But I do not know what information I can provide any longer.  I was offering ideas of trade routes and hunting paths that would go undetected for travel.  Or villages that often had good crop stores.”

“It was Muninn’s knowledge that helped us move swiftly and unhindered into this position.  She has value.  And a fate that has not come to pass.” Skade spoke, growing more impassioned with each word.

“I grow tired of you, witch.  You speak in riddles and I am not under your spell,” Cnut sighed once more, running a hand over his face, exasperated.

Haesten bridled, “No Cnut, you are under Brida’s spell.  Tell me where is she?  Why has she not returned to lead her men with us?  Are they your men now?”  Each question he asked, Haesten’s frustration grew.

At the mention of Brida’s name, Muninn felt her arms tense and her fists ball tighter in her cloak once more.  She didn’t dare interject, but stood listening.  She was aware of Sihtric’s sidelong glance at her shift in posture.

“Brida still mourns,” Cnut said, dismissively, “She will return soon.  And soon after that, her men will become my men.”

The two warriors stared at one another, tense and poised, before both broke out into raucous laughter a moment later.

The tension relieved and conversation shifting, Muninn tried to steady her breath, which had grown stuttered and shallow,  before stepping away.  But Cnut’s voice drew her back.

“We may call on you yet, girl.  You could be of use.”  

“I do not know how my knowledge of the area or my people, simple farmers and merchants, can be of use.  But if you feel it can, I will provide. And my father taught me to hunt.  Even in the winter cold.  So I can provide food as well.”  She was surprised at how steady her voice sounded.  Inside her heart was hammering and she felt a gnawing pang gripping her chest.

“Very well,” Cnut dismissed her waving his hand.

As she turned, Muninn caught Sihtric’s eyes, watching her turn to leave.  Making her retreat, she still felt those eyes watching her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She watched as Sihtric left the edge of the camp.  She had been watching him through the lines of tents all morning.  

Cnut’s men had been preparing their departure to head to the village of Crueland. The word had spread that Uhtred was besieged there by the local theign. And the camp activity had been busy.  A change from the restless idle energy they had dealt with for weeks.

But Sihtric’s energy had caught her attention.  She watched him from the shadows while he thought no one was aware.  His gaze and attention continually shifting from Cnut’s warriors’ preparations to the treeline along the eastern edge of the camp.   

Cnut’s men were preparing to march south, deeper into Mercia.  But Sihtric was looking to the east. The young Dane put on a convincing act amid the hustle and commotion.  He lent a hand when it was needed but did not interject himself overly into the way and draw attention.  But he found ways to keep his hands busy and appear engaged, while he was observing.  Replacing a torn up tent stake or taking a seat to sharpen the edge of his axe.

It was casual and he was at ease.  The young woman could not help but be impressed with his skill at blending in and observing.

Finally, after all morning spent preparing, Cnut’s men rode out of camp.  And still, Sihtric stood lingering on the edge of the tents.  Waiting for Cnut’s warriors to be out of sight.

Then she watched as he stalked off, away from the camp, towards the line of the trees.

Slowly, she gathered her quiver and bow and made for the treeline to the north of Sihtric’s path.  Once she’d broken through into the forest, she changed directions.  Her course now aiming to intersect Sihtric’s path and see what he had been concealing.

Her steps were slow and cautious. But it was difficult to mask the crunch of her boots in the snow. The powder muffled all sounds but did not hide them. 

She could hear voices up ahead and hoped their conversation would be enough to distract from the sounds of her footfalls. 

But nevertheless, the young woman notched an arrow to her bow, keeping it down and to her side, ready to pull it taught if the need should arise. 

Crouching awkwardly low, she slowed her steps further as the voices grew more recognizable. 

She heard laughter followed by a tone more serious. She was not sure, but she thought she heard the low rumbles of Sihtric’s voice, words indistinguishable. He was then answered by a second voice, louder but still muffled to her ears. 

Following the voices, she came around a copse of trees and stopped short. Beyond she could see a group of men, four or five maybe with backs turned to her. All except for Sihtric. His face still continued scanning his surroundings while conversing with his companions, but he paused as his eyes drifted across her. She darted to her left, fully concealing herself behind the trunk of a large oak. 

The voices paused before continuing after several heartbeats. 

The woman’s pulse quickened as she strained to hear the conversation from behind the tree. 

Then, reflexively, she stepped into view pulling the string of her bow taught, her arrow trained at the face of a man a mere two or three paces from her. 

His sword raised defensively, the man stepped back a pace and she walked around him, bringing herself into view of Sihtric and the others. 

“What is this you have found, Finan?” The voice came from her right, commanding and strong. 

“I couldn’t say, Lord? Some sort of huntress perhaps.” There was a careful humor and an Irish lilt in his words. 

The man, Finan, stepped farther back, retreating towards his men, his sword lowering slightly. 

Her arrow and stance shifted, following him. 

“Lord, that is a woman of Bloodhair’s.” Sihtric’s eyes met hers as he spoke, piercing. Challenging perhaps. “She is called Muninn”

“I was never his woman,” she fumed, her arm shaking from the tension in the bowstring.  Slowly, she lowered the bow, letting the arrow fall loose in her hand, “And that is not my name.”

These last words she whispered.

Her gaze had found their lord and she swallowed, a lump lodging in her throat at the sight of him. A heaviness in her chest returning.

“Uhtred,” his name fell from her lips as a sigh.

The wind blew through the trees, swirling the snow around her feet and lifting loose strands of hair from her face.  The lump in her throat grew larger as Uhtred stalked forward, studying her.

His face was unreadable as he stopped an arm's reach away from her.

“Who are you, woman?” The bite of his question made her flinch and a stray tear slip down her cheek.

Searching his eyes, she answered, “You would know me as a girl who pulled at your hair and followed your games in the woods, you used to call me little bear cub.”

She watched the lines in Uhtred’s face shift.  The furrow’s along his brow eased and his eyes widened while he took in her appearance.  

“Show me your arm then,” he whispered. Then finding his voice, he pushed, “if you are her, show me the scar?”

She let her bow and the arrow drop into the snow.

Slowly, she lifted her left arm, pulling back the sleeve of her dress.  Along the inside of her forearm, running several inches was a purple line.  Evidence of a deep wound, long ago healed.

She left her eyes downcast staring at the scar, unable to meet his eye as Uhtred reached out his hand, gloved fingers tracing the line.

He took a step forward, dropping her arm to gently grasp her chin in his hand.  Cautiously, Uhtred tilted her face to meet her eye.  He searched her face, eyes roving along all her features.  

“Liva?” 

He breathed her name as if she would disappear if he spoke too loud.  His face was filled with shock.

She closed her eyes, allowing the tears to fall and giving a single nod.

A sob escaped her and she opened her eyes to watch him when she felt his hand leave her face and he took a staggering step back from her.

The distance did not last long before her feet were lifted off the ground as Uhtred grabbed her into a crushing embrace. She flung her arms around his shoulders and clung to him with all the pain and echoes of her past.

“Am I seeing a spirit?” She heard him laugh through choked tears, his face buried in her shoulder.

“No,” she sobbed, her words muffled and trembling, “I am no spirit.  I am flesh and blood.”

Uhtred placed her back on her feet and took her face in his hands, scanning and searching her over once more, studying the features he had missed grow up to become the woman before him.

“How?” 

His question was simple.  The answer would not be so simple.  Before Liva could reply, their reunion was interrupted by the Irishman’s rough brogue.

“Lord, what is this?” he questioned.  “Who is she to you?”

Uhtred tilted his forehead down to rest on hers before pulling back and looking at his companions.

“Her name is Liva,” he turned back to her smiling, tears blurring his vision, “we thought she was lost in the hall burning.  She is Ragnar’s daughter.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[theladyofdeath]

Life As We Know It {Chapter Four}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Getting out of the lease on her townhouse proved to be easier than Nesta had expected. Her landlord was extremely understanding, especially under the conditions. She’d lived in the same place since she was in college, had never given him any trouble. She took care of her own problems, called her own plumbers and electricians, and had always taken it upon herself to fix anything that was wrong, rather than on his dime.

He’d even gotten her a parting gift on the day she moved everything out. A beautiful bouquet of flowers, and his condolences on her family’s loss.

As it was, mostly everything was moved into a storage unit, thanks to the furniture Rhys and Feyre already had in their home. But her clothes and some select important things came with her. 

It felt strange, at first, the moment Nesta carried Nyx through the door. She had just slept there, of course, but it was different this time. 

This time, Nesta was moving in to stay. 

This was no longer Feyre and Rhysand’s house, but Nesta and Cassian’s…and it felt strange, surreal. 

A thump came from upstairs that nearly had Nesta yelping. Nyx looked up at her and her startled expression and blew a raspberry. “What was that, hmm?” Nesta asked, quietly, setting her bag down as she closed the front door with her foot. She carried Nyx up the stairs and rounded the corner to the master bedroom to find Cassian staring at the mostly empty closet with his hands on his hips. “Find something interesting in there?”

“Shit!” he cursed, spinning around to find the pair in the doorway. “You can’t just sneak up on people like that.”

“I can do whatever I want,” Nesta said, plainly. “Especially when it’s in my room.”

Cassian’s brows shot into his hairline. “I’m sorry…your room?”

“Yes,” she said, swapping Nyx from one hip to the other. “I’ve been staying here for nearly three weeks at this point. I’ve been the one here taking care of him.”

“So that entitles you to the master bedroom?” He asked.

“It does,” she replied and Nyx began squirming. She put him down and he began crawling towards Cassian, tugging on the strings of his boots.

Cassian stooped down to pick the baby up, who instantly began patting Cassian’s face, a habit he’d picked up just before Rhys and Feyre’s accident. Cassian grinned down at him, but then he looked back to Nesta. The smile fell as he beheld Nesta watching him with her arms crossed.

Cassian sighed. “Look-.”

“No, no,” Nesta interrupted. “I’m taking this room. I need the space, and I’m a woman, so I would prefer the private bathroom.”

Cassian watched her for a long moment. “Fine.” Nesta was about to turn on her heels to get the rest of her belongings, but then Cassian continued, “But, you have to say please.”

Nesta tensed in the doorway. “What?”

“Say please and it’s yours,” he said, shrugging.

Nyx looked back and forth between Cassian and Nesta.

She blinked, staring at him.

“You heard me,” he said, leaning down to grab his backpack from where he’d dropped it on the floor. He hefted it onto his other shoulder, Nyx still staring between them. “Say please and the room is yours. And make it genuine, I want to believe you.”

“And if I don’t?” She asked, bracing herself for a fight.

He shrugged and tossed his backpack onto the bed. “Then it looks like we’re sharing. Just so you know, I’m a blanket hog.”

She narrowed her eyes, watching as he sat down on the edge of the bed, plopping Nyx down on the mattress next to him. He crawled up to the top of the bed, plopping down atop one of the pillows.

Cassian could have sworn her teeth were grinding as she said, “May I please have the bedroom?”

He smirked, asking, “Was that so hard?” and stood, grabbing his bag again, before brushing past her as he headed down the hall, taking the room across from Nyx’s nursery.

Nesta groaned, closing her eyes and sighing, before she heard the door opening downstairs.

“Hello, hello!”

She scooped Nyx up off the bed, and made her way downstairs, finding Elain, Azriel, Gwyn, Mor and Emerie in the entryway. Mor was wiggling her fingers at Nyx, and Nesta handed him over to her. He giggled as she lifted him in the air and Nesta hugged her friends. “Thank you for coming.” 

“Of course,” Emerie said, taking a look around. “You shouldn’t do this alone.”

Nesta nodded and another thump came from upstairs. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“Cassian’s here already, then?” Azriel asked.

“He’s here and he’s driving me mad,” Nesta muttered. 

Azriel chuckled as he hurried up the stairs, leaving the women alone.

“Okay,” Gwyn said, propping her hands on her hips and looking around. “What do you need us to do?”

Nesta hesitated. There was so much already in this house that felt like it belonged there, so much of Rhys and Feyre that Nesta didn’t feel like she should touch.

As if she was reading her thoughts, Elain stepped forward, slipping her arm through hers. “This is your home now, too. Part of them will always be here, but you have to make it yours now.” Nesta nodded, wiping away the damn tears that kept making an appearance, but jumped slightly when a loud bang came from upstairs and Azriel and Cassian both laughed. Elain added, with a laugh of her own, “Yours and Cassian’s, I guess.”

“I wish I would stop being reminded of that fact,” Nesta said, attempting a joke as she continued to wipe at her damp cheeks. 

“Ignore Cassian?” Emerie chuckled. “That’s impossible. He likes to make himself known too much for that.”

After a chorus of laughter, Nesta was giving everyone a role. It was all just so surreal, too surreal. It was a position that Nesta would have never imagined herself to be in, especially as she opened Feyre’s closet and stared. 

Nesta had always admired Feyre’s style, even though most of her jeans had paint splatters on them. She reached up to go through the series of band tees hanging on the top rod. She chuckled at one from the Jonas Brothers concert that they’d gotten back in 2011. Nesta had taken Elain and Feyre one weekend when their dad was out of town on business. She’d bought them both t-shirts and cds and overpriced sodas from the arena’s concession stand. 

It had been a good night.

And Feyre had kept the t-shirt for ten years, even though there was a coffee stain on Nick Jonas’ face and a rip in the hem. Nesta took the shirt off the hanger and held it up. It was too small for her. It would never fit.

Nonetheless, Nesta folded the shirt neatly and put it on top of the dresser before taking down the rest of Feyre’s clothes and folding them into a bin.

She hadn’t realized the tears had returned until Emerie and Gwyn came in, the former holding a sleeping, drooling Nyx. 

Feyre’s closet had been nearly emptied. Neither of Nesta’s closest friends said a word as they entered and sat next to Nesta on the bed, one of them on each side.

Silently, they pulled Nesta into their arms.

*

Cassian looked at the broken bed frame in the guest room. 

He and Azriel started roughhousing the moment he’d come up the stairs, and it resulted in the old, rickety bed unable to hold two untamed Illyrians.

Does this mean I won?

You’ve never won in a wrestling match with me, Cass.

Looking at it now, however, Cassian was wondering how he’d take the rest apart without waking Nyx up from his afternoon nap.

“How many times have we slept in this room after a night of drinking too much?” Azriel asked.

Cassian chuckled from where he was putting his clothes in the small, empty dresser. “Too many. Feyre wouldn’t let us drive after even one drink at dinner.”

Azriel chuckled, quietly. “She always was a mother hen, long before Nyx.” 

“She had to be,” Cassian said, “look at Rhys’s choice of friends.”

Azriel grinned. “Speak for yourself.” 

He snorted. “Need I remind you of Spring Break, senior year?”

The grin fell slightly into a cringe. “Okay, maybe there are times that I fall into that category as well.”

Cassian rolled his eyes. He looked back at the bed, even the bedding somewhat in shambles. “Haven’t even lived in the house for an hour and we already broke something.”

Azriel chuckled, following his gaze. “Rhys would be proud.”

Grinning, Cassian nodded. “Feyre would have our asses.”

They worked in silence, for a while, listening to the women’s voices throughout the house.

At one point, Cassian could hear Nesta sobbing quietly from the room down the hall.

His shoulders tensed.

Azriel must have seen it, because he cleared his throat. “You know, Elain says Nesta’s not so bad.”

“And what do you think?” Cassian asked, tossing his empty duffle bag in the corner. 

Azriel was quiet for a moment then shrugged. “I’ve never had an issue with her.” Cassian huffed a laugh. “Yeah, well, you never have issues with anyone.” He shook his head as he leaned back against the wall. “I feel like I’m living a dream right now. I have no idea what’s happening, and it’s all happening way too fast.”

It was happening far too quickly. Everything. All of it.

Cassian felt like he was in the middle of a hurricane, lost and alone and confused with no end in sight.

*

Everyone had left, and only the three of them remained.

Nesta, Cassian, and Nyx.

Nesta realized this is how it would be from now on, and that realization made her chuckle out of pure absurdity. 

Cassian had asked to put Nyx to bed, and Nesta didn’t argue as he took him from her, from where Nyx had fallen asleep in Nesta’s arms on the couch.

She watched them disappear up the stairs, and she wasn’t really sure what to do after that, where to go. Should she just have gone back to her room, shut herself inside, and pretend that nothing else existed?

Cassian came back down the stairs just as Nesta stood up. As he reached the bottom, they acknowledged each other, uncomfortably.

“Well,” Nesta began, nodding slowly. “I guess I’ll be going to bed.”

Cassian didn’t say anything until she had brushed past him and gone halfway up the stairs. “Don’t you think that we should, you know, set some ground rules?”

She paused. “Like what?”

“Like who takes care of what?” He asked. “Who gets what nights off and-?”

“Nights off?” Nesta asked, blinking. “We have to take care of a child, Cassian. We don’t get nights off.”

“You know Az and Elain still go out once in a while. As long as one of us is here to watch him, he’s taken care of,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I would like to be able to go out on a Saturday night, with Az and Luce, so-.”

“Why would you get Saturday night?” She asked, her eyes widening. “I spend all day at the restaurant, all week long. If anyone gets Saturdays, it’s me. Besides, you’re a bartender, shouldn’t you be working those nights?”

“Friday nights are my money nights, so no, I’ll be off,” he said, crossing his arms. His legs widened slightly, and Nesta knew a fighting stance when she saw one.

“So I’m supposed to take Friday nights? How’s that going to work, if you’re at the bar, Cassian?” Cassian hesitated, and Nesta scoffed. “See? That won’t work.”

“You can take Sunday nights,” Cassian said, at last.

“The night before I have to wake up at five to be at the restaurant by six?” Nesta asked. “Oh, thank you so much for that kindness.”

Cassian’s eyes narrowed. “Your sarcasm isn’t necessary. And two minutes ago you thought the idea of a night off was ridiculous, anyway!”

“Well, if you get a night off, so do I!” Nesta yelled.

Cassian raked a frustrated hand through his hair. “Fine. How about we switch saturdays? You get two Saturday’s a month, and I get two Saturday’s a month.”

She clamped her mouth shut, fighting the urge to grind her teeth together. “Fine.”

He nodded. “Fine.”

They both stayed where they were, not moving or giving up an inch of ground.

“I’m going to go to bed then,” she said, the bite still in her voice.

“Goodnight then,” he said, and though the words were civil, they were still sharp. It was almost humorous.

“Goodnight.” With that, she turned and was stomping up the stairs.

She could feel Cassian’s eyes on her and she disappeared.

The audacity. 

She was fully aware that Cassian was full of himself, but wanting every Saturday night off?

She knew it.

He wasn’t ready for this, wasn’t ready for the responsibility of raising a child. She couldn’t expect him to be, though. Shit, she wasn’t ready, either. The only difference was that she was starting to learn all that being a guardian entailed and he surely was not.

She shut the bedroom door behind her, and considered locking it, but decided not to and looked at the clock.

it was barely eight-thirty, but she was exhausted. That had been the past few weeks though, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been awake at ten o’clock. She leaned against the shut door, letting her head fall back.

If she listened hard enough, she could hear him moving downstairs. Heard the fridge open and knew he was pulling one of Rhysand’s beers out. Nesta sighed, wishing she had thought to get at least a glass of wine before she’d shut herself in here.

If she went back out now, she’d look stupid. And she’d have to talk to Cassian again.

Not over her dead body.

So she did the next best thing, filling the massive garden tub in the corner of the bathroom, and settled into it. She sighed, letting the hot water seep into her bones.

And then there was a knock on the bedroom door.

She sunk deeper in the tub. “What?” She called, eyeing the open bathroom door.

There was a pause. “Is it time for Nyx’s bedtime bottle?”

Nyx was cut down to two bottles a day: one in the morning and one at night. Although he had been getting breast milk before the accident, Nesta had already worked through the remaining breast milk that had been in the freezer.

That morning had been his first formula bottle.

He’d been confused at first. Surely there was a difference in taste. However, Nyx eventually realized he wasn’t getting anything else and drank it down, anyway. 

“Was he fussing?” Nesta asked.

There was a thump against the door and Nesta assumed Cassian had fallen into it. “Yeah. Wasn’t crying, but he was about to.”

“Yeah. Formula is on the counter in the kitchen. Check his diaper first,” Nesta said.

She didn’t hear a response, so she assumed he’d gone to handle it, when a few minutes later another knock sounded. This time it was accompanied by a frantic crying.

She was out of the tub, grabbing a towel and digging through a box she’d packed the night before for her robe. Just as Cassian started talking, she got to the door, pulling it open.

He paused, taking in her attire, or lack thereof. Nyx was still crying, which knocked him back into motion. He raised his hand, holding up an empty bottle. “I don’t… I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt-.”

She took the bottle, shaking her head, and brushing past him to head down the stairs. She didn’t snap at him, not when she knew he’d never had to prepare a bottle before. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t irritated.

“You couldn’t read the directions on the back of the box?” she asked, then muttered. “Just like a man.”

When she looked back over her shoulder, Cassian was close behind, Nyx tugging on the end of his shaggy hair as he wailed. If he heard Nesta, he didn’t deign to reply. 

Nesta sighed, carrying the bottle over and filling it with water from a newly opened jug on the counter. “You don’t have to warm it up anymore. He can drink it with room temperature water. It’s pretty easy. Fill it up to the eight ounce mark on the bottle, measure four scoops of formula and dump them in.” She did just that, measuring out each scoop carefully but quickly. “Then shake.” She handed the bottle to Cassian, who started shaking the bottle.

“How long do I shake?” he asked.

Nesta almost wanted to laugh at how frantic, how wild-eyed he looked. Here was Cassian Nazari, shaking a bottle with a screaming baby on his hip. “That’s good. Just give it to the poor kid.” 

Nyx snatched it from Cassian as he lowered it towards his face, holding it on his own. Cassian’s hand hovered close by and he looked up at her. “Can he do that? I mean, should I let him? Or should I hold it?”

Her face softened as she watched her nephew, his tears stopping almost immediately. “He’s fine. Maybe use a hand to support it just in case, but he can handle it.”

He nodded, looking down at the baby as well. His blue eyes were wide as he watched them, glancing from Nesta to Cassian, and back.

He said, softly, “I wonder if he realizes they aren’t coming back yet.”

The words nearly broke Nesta’s heart. Her words were as quiet as his. “ I don’t know… That’s not exactly something you can explain to a one-year-old.”

His nod was slow. “It doesn’t seem fair. They didn’t deserve this.”

Nesta’s throat was tight as she started back toward the stairs. “Life isn’t always fair, Cass. The Cauldron isn’t always fair.”