#and then when I bring it to her she says ''you should get therapy'' as if I'm crazy. I'm going to hurt myself. I am going to hurt myself. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amarriageoftrueminds · 3 months ago

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Since it came up recently, link to that therapist on twitter 👆 who was discussing Bucky's terribile therapist in TFATWS and how they should’ve been.

Transcript:

"As a therapist myself I've had a lot of feelings about Bucky's therapist on TFatWS, and have decided I need to rant a little to let it all out. I've worked w/active duty, trauma survivors, and court ordered clients, so here's some therapeutic conjecture on Bucky's therapy:

Aesthetically her office and presentation don't fit for someone who has been through the trauma that he’s been through. A client like this would need something non-threatening and safe- the whole vibe is overly formal and official in an office building, not at all therapeutic.

6 months working together she calls him Mr. Barnes and then James-he has identity issues and is struggling with who he is, so I think that one of the 1st things they would have done is figure out what he is comfortable being called, by whom and what that means for him.

He is still full out lying to her about pretty much everything including PTSD sx—I’m not saying clients never lie if they have good therapists, but if after 6 months he still doesn’t feel like he can be truthful at all then they haven’t built any trust/ solid therapeutic rapport

The pen and notebook thing-that’s clearly a trigger for him, there’s no reason to antagonize him and take notes in session like a punishment, it’s a power play on her part and it only emphasizes his lack of control in being forced into therapy (she should know his hx w/notebooks)

The whole little arm motion she made when she said “they need to make sure you don’t…” – that made so much light of what has happened to him, he probably feels like his arm is only good as a weapon and things like that will not help him accept it as part of his body

The rules, UGH the rules—from how they were talking about them clearly not something he actively created for himself, more like directives that he’s been ordered to adhere to—something fed to him and reinforced, feels like a way to sign off on liability only

THE AMENDS—this is probably my biggest issue. Amends are for people who need to take accountability for their actions and the repercussions of those choices. He had NO choice. He was a victim of horrific crimes against him, and framing it in a way that he needs to make up for

the crimes that others used him for is abhorrent. The lack of trauma informed care as astounding in the way it is being framed that he has to atone for sins that weren’t his. Its clearly reinforcing the idea in his head in ep 2 when he says “HYDRA were my people".

NO, HYDRA were your captors. They were not your people. That type of thinking needs to get deconstructed and challenged. He can dedicate himself to bringing good into the world and righting wrongs that happened WITHOUT taking on the responsibility of those actions.

Her whole attitude and demeanor were condescending and demeaning. I know some people have said “I love how she calls him out on his bullshit!” That’s not what I see happening. I call my clients out on their shit all the time—this was not that.

And I can only do that with clients ONCE we’ve built the type of relationship where it’s going to be therapeutic for them to hear it, and it’s done intentionally and with purpose. She just came off shaming and mean because they don’t seem to have any form of therapeutic rapport.

She said “you have no history, no family”- there is no therapeutic reason for that, and she’s wrong. He most likely has family alive (he used current tense when talking about his sister) and he was close to Shuri and TChalla, his history is vital to understanding him

When she said “Look, I know that you have been through a lot, but you’ve got your mind back. You are being pardoned. These are good things. You’re free.”—Yeah this feels really dismissive and like toxic positivity. “I know you’ve been through a lot BUT BE HAPPY!!??”

He certainly doesn’t seem to feel like he’s free (especially having therapy mandated), and you can’t just tell someone they’re free. I felt like she was pretty much just like, “shake it off, look to the future!” which feels really shitty when you’ve experienced excessive trauma.

HELLO breach of confidentiality, just introducing herself to Sam as his therapist and confirming it to Walker and the whole police station, it doesn’t matter if they know he’s in therapy you do not break someone’s privacy like that, he still deserves some control over his tx.

Ordering Sam into a session, NO, he’s not your client and you don’t know him well enough to know if that’s appropriate or if it would be harmful to either, and you haven’t asked your client for his consent to have another person in his session

Forcing a trauma victim who was stripped of his bodily autonomy for 70 years into a physically intimate exercise with a coworker that he’s barely interacted with in the last several months? NOPE, just reinforcing to Bucky she has control over him the way his handlers used to

To me, I think she is more focused on signing off on his psychological eval that he isn't a liability rather than any actual healing or attention to his trauma. This unfortunately isn’t unusual in the military where “mental health treatment” is focused on being mission ready.

They are making sure he’s ready to be an “asset” w/ mandated therapy, which he shouldn’t even be forced to do as part of his pardon because he shouldn’t have needed a pardon at all because he was a victim of horrific war crimes, brainwashing, and dehumanization for 70 years.

I’m just saying, if that was me he would be on my big squishy couch, bright open windows, bowl of Hershey kisses, random fidget toys, and two therapy dogs laying all over him while we work through that trauma and he builds back his identity and finds the calm he wants so badly.

And yes he would probably need someone who would see through his BS, call him out when he needs it, not be overly "touchy feely", but only if he feels safe and there is trust, where he gets to work on what HE wants, not what others think he needs.

Anyway thanks for coming to my TEDTalk, I❤️my work and I think being a therapist on retainer for the Avengers would've been a fucking trip, they all needed a team of mental health professionals at their disposal 24/7 and things would've been so much better🤣

ps. They can be a good therapist and just not be a fit for the client, that happens regularly. We know when to make it part of the conversation and when to refer out. Nothing good is going to come out of a contemptuous therapeutic relationship, mandated or not.

pps. That whole situation and the scene with Zemo was so rough. I can't imagine how much it brought back the violation, humiliation, anger, and helplessness of when he was the WS. I'm just imagining him having a therapist he trusts and being able to process that afterwards 😭😭😭"

#NOTE: THIS IS NOT ME I AM JUST TRANSCRIBING THE TWITTER THREAD #long post #antitfatws #bucky barnes #bucky meta #meta #mcu #mcu meta #dat's me #bucky's recovery meta #medical stuff #bucky's medical stuff #raynor #ref #writing #therapy #tl;dr: bucky is a victim should be in a soft room with therapy dogs and chocolate #also note: this depiction of therapy is NOT a critique because neither the characters nor the narrative calls her out for her crappy therapy #my theory: bucky's nightmares are not memories they are caused by his therapy...#he has to read winter soldier casefiles in order to make the List mandated by the terms of his pardon #(only files could give him the kind of details / intel he is shown as having about eg. yori's son)#he is being forced to cross names off the List (the Rules of his pardon) as monitored by his therapist...#but it's making him worse (giving him nightmares) ...and she knows but dgaf #as usual mcu writers blunder into a 'this would make more sense if the character was actually just hydra' subplot 🙄

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heavyhitterheaux · 1 month ago

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Wife and Mother To Be

Synopsis: While you and Joe are shopping for a friend's baby shower, he has a realization about his future with you.

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Girlfriend!Reader

Requested by @hoodharlow 😘💕

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Standing in the baby section of Target and holding up two different onesies to compare them, your phone started to vibrate in the back pocket of your jeans. Placing one of them across your arm, you pulled your phone out to answer it and was greeted by a frantic boyfriend.

“Baby! Where did you run off to this time? You said we were coming in here for toothpaste and face masks. Next thing I know, I turn around and my girlfriend is missing! Are you at Starbucks again?! You ALWAYS do this when we come in here.” You heard your boyfriend say as you picked up and didn't wait for a proper greeting.

“You were literally standing there for fifteen minutes comparing different ones so I walked away. I'm in the baby section looking at clothes. And no, I already went to Starbucks and my drink is gone so I'll need to make another stop before we leave.”

“No, no, and no. I am literally taking you to lunch so no more stops and wait a minute, why are you in the baby section? Is there something you need to tell me?” Joe asked and you immediately rolled your eyes.

“For Gabby! Her baby shower is tomorrow, remember? Just come over here and help me pick things out for her.”

“Oh, right. Be right there, I'm walking over now.”

It was another two minutes when you saw Joe coming towards you and he greeted you by placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“Wait a minute, why do you have a cart? We got a basket when we came in here. What did you plan on buying her? The entire section? Am I paying for this?”

“Joseph, will you relax!? I'm just getting her a few things and then we can go eat. Now what do you think about these?” You asked as you held up the same two onesies to show him.

“Hmm, what is she having again?” Joe asked as he was looking at both of them.

“A girl, Joe. Both of these are pink.”

“So? What's your point? I wear pink too.”

“But not something that says princess on it!” You responded to him as you laughed.

“At least not yet anyway and I like both of them.”

“Okay good. Both it is and I’m ignoring you.”

“I should ignore you for leaving me by myself.”

“Oh, that's right. I forgot that you need supervision all the time.”

“No, that's you. I'm a responsible adult. You're the one who comes in here for one thing when you tell me you'll be back in twenty minutes but an hour goes by and you're nowhere to be found.”

“And you use whatever I bring back home so you benefit from it so I don’t want to hear it.” You told him with a smirk and now it was Joe’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Come on and help me. Sooner we finish, the sooner we get food and go home.” You told him and he quickly agreed as he started browsing the baby toys.

Before you knew it, another thirty minutes had passed by and the two of you had a cart full of different things for Gabby. You were satisfied with how much you had gotten, but Joe was still browsing.

“Babe, come on. This should be enough.” You told him as you came up behind and wrapped your arms around him as he was now comparing two different diaper brands and you suddenly got a flashback to the toothpaste situation.

“You can never have enough diapers though, right?”

“Sweetheart, we got her four packs already.”

“Yeah, but are those really the best ones? I think that these might be better in case she has a blow out. My nephew did that to me and I still have PTSD. Therapy was needed after that.” Joe told you as he put the other diapers back and you couldn't help but to laugh.

“Not funny, babe. I didn't realize how much shit could come out of someone so little.”

“It is funny, Joseph and I wish I was there to be able to see your face when it happened.”

“Keep going and I'm not feeding you.” Joe told you as he put the diapers you had gotten in the cart back and replaced them with the brand that he wanted.

“But, I need energy in order to ride you later.” You replied and Joe immediately turned a bright shade of red as you began to laugh.

“BABE!”

“What? What'd I say?”

“You know what you said. Come on so we can go.”

Later on that night you were sitting on the middle of the floor in your shared bedroom with Joe when he walked in to see what you were doing.

“You run away from me in Target and at home. Did I do something?” Joe playfully asked as he sat across from you and began to help you wrap the gifts for Gabby.

“Nothing at all, Joey. Doing this so I can spend the rest of the night cuddling my amazing boyfriend whom I love to the moon and back.”

“Just the moon, not further?”

“Well we aren't going to the sun unless we want to burn to a crisp so yeah the moon.”

“I'll take it.”

You were folding the onesies when Joe was simply admiring you. Before he could stop himself, he blurted it out.

“When are we going to have one?” He asked and your mouth instantly hit the floor, but you tried to compose yourself.

“Um, have a what?” You asked clearly flustered and Joe simply laughed.

“You know what I mean.” Joe responded as he pulled you to sit in his lap as he kissed the top of your head while his arms wrapped around you.

“You want a baby? With me?” You asked with your voice dripping with uncertainty.

“I want everything with you. I thought that much was obvious. And not just one baby, multiple.” He answered and you turned around to look at him.

“You're serious?”

“I love you and I'm as serious as a heart attack.”

“Well you low key just gave me one.” You muttered against his chest and he laughed.

“Don't you want that with me?”

“Of course I do. I want nothing more than to make it a reality. I just didn't really know how to tell you or if you were ready. I mean you are literally at the peak of your career.”

“Baby, you can tell me anything and everything. You know that. And so what? If this is something that we both want, we're going to make it work.”

“You're not messing with me?”

“Now, why would I do that? I want to make you my wife too whenever that time comes. Mrs. Sheisty has a nice ring to it, don't you think?”

Now it was your turn to shy away and hide in his chest and all he did was laugh.

“In that case, I can't wait for you and our daughter to have matching pink outfits.”

“Oh, so you want a girl first?”

“Of course, girls run the world and she is going to have you wrapped around her little finger just like I do now.” You told him as you poked his nose.

“If that's the case, you want to get started? I heard that making the baby is the fun part.”

#joe burrow #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x black reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow fanfiction #joe burrow concept #joe sheisty #cincinnati bengals

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mrsparrasblog · 6 months ago

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POLY 141 when you die because of being in a relationship with them.

Tw: Angst, dead, alcohol

No, I won’t pay for your therapy after reading this.

Kyle: Instead of feeling hurt, he felt rage. He was eager to kill everyone responsible. He didn’t hold back punches, and he didn’t kill with just a bullet wound. This wasn’t a mercy you got, so why should they? He tortured them until they begged for death. After everyone was dead, he realized that he couldn’t bring you back, that he missed your funeral because of this, and he cried for hours at your grave, begging for forgiveness. He wished he had been there with you.

Soap: He didn’t have the luxury of grieving and despised John and Kyle for that. Someone needed to take care of their kids, someone needed to hold everything together, and he did. He didn’t allow himself to grieve for you. He talked to your kids about you so they would never forget you. After he got all the kids to graduate, married off, or whatever they wanted in life, he allowed himself to cry for the first time.

John: He was always too close to the bottle, and your death only made it worse. For the first few months, Johnny brought him back home, but after three months, Johnny stopped, and Price’s home became the pub. “Don’t have a reason, she’s gone, Simon’s gone, Kyle’s crazy, and the kids—they know I’m not their real dad. They don’t need me.” Five years later, he made peace with everyone before he died happily of liver failure. “I’m going to see her again.”

Ghost: He knew dating him was a mistake; he knew it all along. So when he came home from his deployment with the boys and saw your dead body on the ground, covered in blood and ripped clothes, it was over. He didn’t even seek revenge. He knew what to do after Beth’s, Tommy’s, and his mom’s deaths. He was gone, left everyone behind, sent all his money to his kids, and disappeared without even saying goodbye to his boyfriends, much to Johnny’s hurt. He lived the rest of his life alone, in fear that someone else would get killed because of him. He couldn’t deny himself the chance to stand hidden in the crowds at your daughter's graduation and wedding. Seeing Johnny walk her down the aisle was his last straw.

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wolfiesmoon · 7 months ago

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Genshin guys as dads 🤭

in honour of finally getting off my ass and finishing mondstat, i bring you genshin men as dads <3 i decided to challenge myself and write for characters i haven't written for at all yet

the reader is gender neutral (u can interpret that the kid was adopted or u can interpret that the kid is biologically yours)

Yk the more i read these guys' lines to get a better idea of their characters the more i think they need a therapy session stat

Characters featured: Diluc, Alhaitham, Childe, Ayato

౨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅ Diluc Ragnvindr

"Diluc! Diluc, are you in here?" you knocked before opening the door to his office, assuming he's probably there. You were finally returning to the winery late in the evening and wanted to see how your daughter and husband were doing.

Tonight, they should both be at the winery.

But to your surprise, the office was completely empty. You haven't heard a single peep from your daughter yet, either. Usually she'd be running around and yelling, even if she wasn't with Diluc.

You went upstairs to check your bedroom and were met with a most adorable sight when you opened the door. Your daughter was very peacefully asleep, drool and all, on Diluc's chest. Diluc did not seem very pleased with this arrangement, however.

"Welcome home." he sighed upon seeing you walk to the side of the bed.

"Looks like someone's on pillow duty." you teased him, petting your daughter's head.

"Don't make fun of me. She's been running around all day with seemingly no end to it. Sometimes I'm surprised at what her tiny legs are capable of." he leaned his head back, looking up at the ceiling.

"She said she's not tired at all. But she fell asleep almost instantly when she sat on top of me to, umm... bother me." to anyone else, Diluc would seem like he hates this kid with how much he says she bothers or annoys him, but you know that isn't the case.

Whenever she runs up to him to show him something she did, he pats her little head lovingly. He keeps the drawing she made of him in his office, even if he is a bit concerned at how grumpy he looks in her artistic interpretation.

"I wasn't making fun of you... Okay, maybe a little bit." you leaned down, cupping Diluc's face and kissing his cheek. He hummed in dissaproval, but his cheeks turned pink anyways.

"Would you mind joining me? If I can't... I want to know that you're safe, atleast." his eyebrows were creased in worry. You don't know what for, exactly, but you gladly joined him on the bed, hugging him too.

"Is your aim to suffocate me further?" the combined weight of about a quarter of your body and his daughter was not the most freeing in the world.

"No, I just happen to understand the appeal of sleeping on top of you." and you really do. It's always so warm and homey.

"You've worked hard today, dad." you moved some stray hairs out of his face. His tired eyes met yours for a moment before they slipped shut. Hehehe, you need to take a photo of this.

౨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅ Alhaitham

(let's pretend you live together with him now instead of kaveh haha)

"Dad doesn't love me!" the sudden accusation had you turning your head fast, wanting to know what was going on. "What did he do, sweetie?" the little pout on her pudgy face was adorable.

She ran up to you and hugged your leg. "You still love me, right?" she seemed very worried about your reply. It seems like she isn't in the mood to give a proper answer to your question, though.

"Of course I do. You're very very very special to me." You pat her head gently. She seemed satisfied with your reply, giggling happily at you before running off to play.

When Alhaitham returned home that day, he attempted to interact with his daughter, as he tries to every day, but he was utterly ignored.

He looked to you, hoping you'd know the reason, but you just shrugged. "She says you don't love her anymore."

"Hm..." was his only reply.

"That's because he doesn't! I told him 'I love you' yesterday but he didn't say it back!" Your daughter crossed her little arms, scowling at her dad before turning around so she didn't have to look at him.

"So it was that." Alhaitham seemed like he understood the situation properly now. And you realised what happened too, because it happens to you occasionally.

"Sweetie, listen. Your dad likes to wear these thingies in his ears. And when he wears them, he can't hear a thing." You explained in the most child friendly way you could.

"Not even an explosion?" Your daughter finally turned back to look at you and Alhaitham, though her eyes were fixated firmly on you.

"Nope. Nothing at all. When he didn't say 'I love you too' yesterday, it was because he was wearing them and couldn't hear." Your daughter turned her head back with an annoyed 'hmph', but you knew she was listening to you.

"So I propose a hug attack. Whenever you see him wearing them." You smiled evilly, glancing at Alhaitham who shot you a dissaproving glare in return.

"Leave me alone." Your daughter huffed, stomping off down the hallway. Oh well, kids don't always think critically, do they? You have a feeling she's already forgiven him a little, though.

"Children make no sense to me." He admits, and you finally greet him properly with a little welcome home peck.

"That's the fun in it, though." You smiled at him and to your surprise, he smiled right back. As awkward as he can get with the kid, he loves her a whole lot.

౨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅ Childe

"Mhhhh... what is it?" he mumbled in annoyance when he felt his hand getting shook. His voice sounded quite raspy now.

"Dad... Dad..." turns out it was your son who was pulling on Childe's arm. He looked like he was about to burst into tears any second, now.

As soon as he saw the distress on his son's dimly lit face, his attitude changed and he was overcome with the sudden urge to take revenge on something or someone. Maybe it's the dad instinct.

"I had a nightmare.... I'm scared..." your son sobbed.

By this point, even you woke up, but your body was still mostly asleep, so you were just listening in.

"Come up here." Childe tapped the bed and your son awkwardly climbed up into his arms.

"Was it a scary monster?" Childe asked in an exaggerated scary voice. Your son nodded, gripping onto the front of Childe's shirt.

"In that case... you don't have to worry at all. I always love a challenge." you could practically see the smile on Childe's face. You turn over, opening your eyes slightly. You have to admit, the sight in front of you is adorable.

"What do you mean, dad?" your son sniffled, rubbing the snot away with his tiny hand.

"I'll fight the monster, of course. Oh, how wonderful it would be to see the b-" he winced a little bit when he felt the light slap on his face.

"Ajax, you'll scare him even more." you warned, your own voice raspy. You moved your other hand to ruffle your son's hair to comfort him.

"Ow, clearly, someone doesn't appreciate me enough." Childe rolled his eyes playfully.

Without warning, you lean forward and peck him on the lips. "There. Now I've evened out the slap."

"Just one peck? Well, I suppose we can't do much more right now... Hehe." Childe turned his attention back on your son, stroking his back gently to calm him down.

"Why do you have that look on your face?" you noticed he was smiling strangely.

"What look?" your accusations have been denied. But he sure does have a plan for you later.

౨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅ Kamisato Ayato

"DAD! Look at where I am!" Your son shouted from somewhere in the tree that was stood in the beautifully maintained garden.

Being the little rebel he is, he climbed the tree despite you telling him multiple times not to.

"Please get down from there. It's unsafe." Ayato tried to reason with him calmly upon noticing him in the treetops.

"Nah, it's so cool up here! I can see the whole estate!" Sometimes, your son's stubborn nature made it hard for him to get along with Ayato. This is one of those cases.

"This is not a joking matter. You could get seriously hurt." Ayato doesn't think he could properly live with himself for a bit if his kid got hurt when he could have prevented it.

"What's going on here?" You joined in, happening to pass by the garden.

"He won't come down. I'm... worried about him." He admits, crossing his arms. Though you do sense a bit of annoyance behind his voice, too.

"Come down. I told you not to climb that tree so many times." You crossed your arms firmly. Your son looked at Ayato's face, then yours and sighed, beginning to descend from the tree. He'd rather avoid a scolding. But his little foot slipped and he suddenly tumbled to the ground.

"Son!" Both of you immediately ran to his side as he started wailing. "Call for healers. Immediately." He seemed fine, looking at him initially, but he might have a broken leg or something.

Both of you stayed by his side the whole time, offering him words of comfort (and a bit of a scolding). It seems like something like this happens almost every week, now. The Kamisato household has certainly gotten livelier ever since getting blessed with your son.

"Well, that was certainly an afternoon." You huffed, sitting down behind the table across Ayato.

"I wish he wasn't so reckless and disobedient, sometimes." Ayato held his cheek in worry. He let his son get hurt, again.

"He got that mischief from you." You smiled innocently, sipping your tea.

"Whatever do you mean, dear?" He smiled innocently back.

"I miss days of solitude. We only have moments now. I suppose my life hasn't been a calm one for a long while now, though." He sips his own tea, looking outside at the sunset. Working as hard as he does every day is taxing on the soul.

"Guess we gotta make the most of it." You stood up, sitting back down next to him and playfully pecking his cheek.

"Oh, I see what you mean." He returned the mischevious smile you know and love. Just as he grabbed your waist, though...

"LOOK WHAT I HAVE!" Your son burst into the room, holding a sword. His sword.

"Aren't you supposed to be resting?!"

#˗ˏˋ ★ ♡ 「Wolfie’s other works」 ♡ ★ ˎˊ˗#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin impact x you #diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc x y/n #childe x reader #childe x you #childe x y/n #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #kamisato ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x you #ayato x reader

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sunburnhurts · 4 months ago

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Tired || Bruce Wayne x fem!Reader (Battinson)

Summary: Y/n has been supportive of her husband's secret life, but she is exhausted. A year after their separation, they are reunited at Don Mitchell's funeral. The beginning of the story is before the movie, and ofc the mayor's funeral is an event in the movie. The mayors funeral scene isn't exactly like how it was in the movie, but somewhat close.

Words: 2,426

All My Stories

A/n: Hey guys! I haven't posted in a while, I'm so sorry!! I've decided to start doing batman stories, but I'm still doing Cedric ones too! Requests are open! I also wanted to add I have a lot of drafts, so I haven't posted in a while, but I have some stories in the process!

Y/n listens as her husband, Bruce Wayne, shuffles off their bed, onto his feet. She hears his feet against the hardwood floor echoing the dead silent room. She hates it, him waking up in the middle of the night to be Batman.

Ever since he started being Batman, he's been distant. He slowly stopped touching her over the years. He's always be in a different room, on a different end of the couch, different end of the bed.

At first, she excused it as him being tired from saving the city. She would curse herself for being selfish, why should she be complaining when he is saving human beings, bringing good to Gotham? Then she got tired of making herself feel bad.

Y/n tried having conversations with Bruce about his sleep schedule, how much he eats, how much time he spends worrying about being Batman. These conversations always ended in arguments or Bruce not responding to whatever his wife said because he was too busy working on his suit.

Alfred of course noticed Bruce's distance from his wife. He would try talking to Bruce about his worry for Y/n, saying she is lonely during the day without her husband. Bruce would always brush off what Alfred said, worried about 'more important' things to him.

It's not like Y/n was a lonely house wife, she was an actress who was on break. Before she met Bruce, she was in big movies, making just enough money to start a family. When she met Bruce, of course her popularity spiked more. A big actress and a billionaire getting married was big news in the press.

She was now on break from her job because everything became too much for her. Her depression grew from lack of love from her husband. She put herself in therapy, which made her realize she wasn't being selfish. She of course didn't tell her therapist about her husband being batman, covering it up as his new job.

Now, she was listening to her husbands feet taping against their hardwood floor. She let out a breath, listening to him step into the elevator that leads to the 'batcave'. She made up her mind, she didn't want to be trapped in her life, in this mansion.

Half an hour later, she got up, walking over the the same elevator and going down.

"Bruce, we have to talk." She said, stepping out of the elevator, walking over to her husband. She had a calmness in her voice. She heard no answer. As soon as she was behind him, she stopped walking. He was working on something on his desk, she didn't care enough to know what he was working on. "Bruce."

After a hum of a response came from her husband, she hesitated with what she was about to say. This scenario seemed much more easier in her head, the countless times she replayed it in her mind. But once she saw him, it was a lot harder than she was expecting.

"I want a divorce." She plainly said. She watched as her husbands head moved, but didn't turn to look at her. "I've been thinking about it a lot-"

"Are you serious?" He said, fully turning his head around to look at his wife. His voice sounded more angry then upset.

"I've been thinking about it a lot," She repeated, ignoring his question. "and I can't do this anymore."

"Do what?" He angrily asked.

"Be ignored!" She shouted, feeling her eyes swell up. She hated that he didn't already know what he's been doing. A clenched jaw was all she got in response. "Bruce," She started. "you haven't touched me in so long."

"I've been busy, you know that."

"You know you're just saying that as an excuse." Hearing this made Bruce turn his body fully to the vulnerable, standing girl. "God, Bruce! I don't even recognize you anymore!"

He shakes his head, scoffing. He moved his eyes everywhere but his wife, his breathing heavy with anger. A ding was heard on his computer, indicating Batman was needed.

"Are you going to get that?" Y/n said, making Bruce's eyes lay on her.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, if you don't be Batman for one night, and you take me back upstairs and show me you love me, I'll take back everything I said about divorce." It was true, one kiss from him would change her mind, she was so desperate for affection and she hated it. She prayed in the back of her mind for him to get up, swoop her in his arms, and take her upstairs. But he stayed still.

He turned his head at the computer, taking a moment to decide. She watched as he got up from his chair, walking over to his suit of armor. Her heart ached. She angled her head to the ground, biting the inside of her lip and bringing her hand up to rub her philtrum. Tears stung her eyes as her throat burned.

She wanted to run to him, grab his face, kiss him. She also wanted to run to him, push him, yell curses at him, ruin all his batman equipment. But she knew better.

Beyond heartbroken, she made her way over to the elevator. She had a slight feeling of selfishness, making him choose between her and a job of a hero, but then she squashed that feeling almost immediately. It should have been obvious to pick his wife, he shouldn't have even had to think about it.

Once Y/n made it back upstairs, she started packing everything. Her clothes, shoes, anything she found that was hers. She couldn't stay there any longer, she couldn't look at Bruce any longer. She was a mess now, tears streaming down her cheeks as she hiccuped her breath.

It wasn't even close to morning, she had no idea where she would be going. Her family didn't live in Gotham, they lived on the other side of the country. She had actor friends that lived near, maybe she could try them. She thought of a girl, Nicole, she worked with that she grew very close with, hoping she could crash at her place for the night.

Y/n took out her phone, clicking on Nicole's contact, and pressing call. She listened to the phone ring while she kept packing her things. "Hello? Y/n?"

"Nicole!" Y/n said in a voice that anyone could tell she was upset. "Um- I'm so sorry for such a late call, I really could use your help right now."

"Of course! What's wrong, sweetie?" Nicole said over the phone. Y/n was younger that Nicole, Nicole was like a mother figure to her.

"I just need a place to stay, only for tonight. I will be out by the morning, I promise." Y/n closed her suitcase, zipped it up and sat on her and Bruce's bed. Her head was in her hands as she tried calming down her tears.

"You can stay for as long as you would like!" Nicole's voice calmed her down, giving her the strength to walk out of the mansion.

After Y/n made a plan to meet Nicole, she hung up and made her way to the kitchen with her bags. Her memory flashed to Alfred, it wasn't fair of her to leave Alfred without saying anything. She didn't want to wake him, so she decided on making a note for him.

She grabbed a note pad and a pen, writing Alfred, thank you for everything you've done for me, I love you so much. - Y/n. Tears stained the sheet of paper, she didn't want to leave Alfred, the man who took her in and loved her when Bruce wouldn't.

When Alfred saw the note, his blood boiled. He knew this was going to happen, but he hated that Bruce let her leave. Alfred immediately busted into Bruce's room, waking Bruce up. "What did you do?" He angrily shouted, holding up the note. "Why did you let her leave?"

Bruce sat up and stretched, waking himself up before he took the note in his hand. He read it, heart beating harder. He thought Y/n just went to sleep in one of their guest bedrooms, he didn't know how serious she was the night prior.

~~~~

Months after the divorce finalized, Y/n was feeling a lot better. She now owned her own house, had a new big movie she was working on, and was happier. She of course never told anyone about Bruce Wayne's big secret, she still respected and loved him. There was no way she couldn't not love him.

Her mind would wonder off, thinking about what would have happened if he did actually pick her up, took her back up to their bedroom, loved her. She wonder if things would have changed, if he actually would have taken her seriously and been better for her. She then would bring herself back to reality, dealing with the harsh reality that that didn't actually happen, and it wasn't going to.

Y/n didn't see Bruce after that night, but she knew he was watching her. She knew what his gaze felt like, she would feel it when she walked on the street, even when she was in her home. Although she was mad at him for spying on her, a part of her loved him for looking after her, for missing her.

The media of course made a big deal about this separation. They created rumors and lies about why they split up, it was always something not even close to the truth. That Bruce cheated on her, that she was having a secret affair with her friend Nicole, or that they both were married as a publicity stunt. It was all stupid.

Whenever Y/n was asked about it in interviews, she would deny the rumors. "It was a 'right person wrong time' kind of thing, I still respect and love him very much." She would always say something of that sort to the public. It was true. She would never answer personal questions about Bruce. Mostly she was asked why he was so reserved for being so well known.

Every now and then, Y/n watched the news about what Batman did the night before. She hated that even after the divorce, he still was saving the city, but what was he supposed to do now? He now didn't have a wife to come home to, how else was he supposed to fill his time, how else was he supposed to take his anger out?

He hated himself for picking being Batman, he missed his wife so much. He ate less, slept less, breathed less. He always wanted to reach out, he wanted to hear her voice, smell her scent, feel her touch. He now knew this is how she felt when he was ignoring her. God, he hated himself.

He would watch over her, make sure she's safe. Make sure she's happy. He heard about her being in a big upcoming movie, he was glad she was living her life, even if it was without him.

When Don Mitchell was murdered, Bruce was invited to the funeral. Although he already knew more about the murder as Batman, he needed to be at the funeral just in case any information was released from anyone. It would be odd if Batman showed up to a funeral.

He dreaded going out. He barely went out in public as Bruce Wayne before the divorce, but now he avoided it even more.

Bruce drove his car through the crowd of people, following where ever he was told to go. Once he was there, he got out of the car and handed the keys to the valet and hands him some money. He hears the press screaming his name to come over to talk to them, but he of course didn't. He was there for one thing.

Bruce followed the other known people into the building, listening to any conversation he can. His eyes stayed on the ground, as if not looking at anyone would make it easier to hear. His eyes glanced up for a quick second, catching a glimpse of a girl whose back was turned to him.

He fully turned his attention to the girl, recognizing her. He stopped in his tracks, heart starting to ache. Y/n stood before him, talking to her friend who he recognized as Nicole. He watched as Nicole noticed him, nudging Y/n, bringing her attention to Bruce. It was the first time since the divorce that they made eye contact.

Y/n's eyebrows furrowed in a mix of surprise and longing. She gives Bruce a closed mouth smile, biting the inside of her lips. She looked behind Bruce, seeing that Mayor Reál was approaching him. Knowing that Bruce hates talking to people, Y/n walks over to Bruce, stopping right in front of him.

Bruce watches as Y/n walks to him, his heart racing, his arms longing for her, but he keeps them still. There was no expression on his face, but she could tell he missed her. Y/n watches as the new to be mayor notices her and walks away, leaving the 2 alone.

"Hello, Bruce." She sweetly says, smiling up at him.

Y/n spent 2 years in her marriage already feeling like they've been divorced, so it didn't take long for her to get herself back on her feet after the divorce. It wasn't hard to see him because of the heartbreak, it was hard to see his dark circles under his eyes, his prominent bones much sharper from lack of food.

"Hey, Y/n." His rough voice responded. He cleared his voice.

They started talking about how they've been since the divorce, Y/n could tell he changed a lot. He was more open to talking about his feelings with her, his eyes never left hers, his eyebrows pulled closer together and lowered as he listened to her talk.

"We should catch up more," Y/n starts, "not here, though." Bruce nods, hoping this meant good for their relationship. "Still have my number?"

"Of course," Bruce gave a ghost of a smile.

"It was nice seeing you Bruce," Y/n places her hand on his arm. "talk later?" Bruce finally broke eye contact to look at Y/n's hand placement. He missed her so much.

He nods while saying, "It was nice seeing you too, Y/n."

Bruce was never mad at Y/n for the divorce, he was always only mad at himself. He never wanted to watch over Y/n while she lived her life, but he couldn't ever help it. He wanted to distance himself as far away from her as possible, but he needed to know she was okay.

When Y/n walked away, back to Nicole, Bruce reminded himself of why he was here. His eyes landed on Don Mitchell's son, the one that found his father dead. He noticed that Y/n was now talking to the widow, Mrs. Mitchell.

Bloody screams came from outside, a lot of commotion from the second story of the church. Bruce looked up and saw someone standing still, not being effected by all the movement and screams. Bruce knew something bad was about to happen, he looked back at Y/n and Mitchell's kid. Y/n was facing Bruce, standing in front of the kid.

Y/n rushed the kid and the mother away from the front of the church. She didn't know what was going on, but she wanted to help. She also didn't know where to go, so she just stood there, looking at Bruce confused and worried.

A car bursts through the church. Bruce runs and grabs Y/n, saving her from being crashed into. They rolled on the ground, stopping a few feet from where she once stood. Stunned by what was happening, Y/n stayed still laying on the ground.

Bruce got up, holding a hand out for her. She grabbed it, helping herself up. "You need to go," Bruce said, still holding onto the girls hand. Before Y/n could say anything in return, people were screaming at the person driving the car to get out.

Bruce and Y/n turn their attention to the car door opening and a man struggling to get out. Something was bolted around his neck, a bomb strapped to him. "Y/n, you need to leave." Bruce said again, this time a lot more serious. Y/n nodded, letting go of Bruce's hand and quickly exited the building.

~~~~

Y/n was safely at her home now, out of the funeral clothes, and was now laying down in her warm bath, rethinking the events that happened hours before. Everything confused her, but she knew it somehow was related to Batman. She then thought about Bruce Wayne.

She missed him, of course, praying he would reach out to her. She knew that it was unfair of her to break off their marriage but then expect him to come running back to her, but she knew he changed. She could tell by the way he spoke, the way he opened up to her, the way he looked at her.

As she thought about this, she heard her phone ping. She didn't think anything of it, ignoring it until she was out of the bath. As she wrapped herself in her towel, she picked up her phone.

Messages: Bruce Wayne Hey

Her eyes widened, heart skipping a beat. She reread the message, making sure she wasn't seeing things. She bit her lips, holding the phone, smiling. She opened her phone, clicking on the message to reply. "Hey" she wrote back. She wasn't sure what else to say, she thought for a moment.

After Bruce sent Y/n the text, he was praying to not mess up the second chance Y/n was giving him. He sat in his batcave, hovering over his phone, waiting for a reply. When his phone lit up, he immediately saw it. "Hey" It read. He picks up his phone, unlocking it and he starts typing, "You looked really beautiful today." But then he erased it, thinking it wasn't appropriate.

Seeing the 3 dots appear from Bruce's profile got her excited, but when they disappeared, she was confused. She put her phone down, getting dressed into her pajamas. Once she came back to her phone, there was no new messages from Bruce. Sighing, she typed something.

"Thank you for saving me, I didn't get to say it earlier." Bruce cracked a smile at this text from Y/n. He was happy that even though he didn't respond, she still texted back. "It's no problem." He wrote back.

"Can we meet up sometime tomorrow, to catch up?" Y/n sent. Bruce immediately replied, "Yeah, 11 at my place?" Y/n smiled, replying with "Yeah, I'll see you then."

Smiling at his phone, Bruce gets up and exits the batcave, making his way to Alfred. Bruce informs him about Y/n coming over, making Alfred ecstatic. He then scolds Bruce about the importance of not messing this up, making Bruce roll his eyes in annoyance. "I know, I'm not going to mess this up."

~~~~

Y/n walks into the Wayne manor, smiling at the guards at the entrance that recognize her, nodding their heads at her as she passed. She turned a corner, seeing Bruce waiting for her at the entrance of the elevator. Smiling, Y/n walks to him. His smile grew at the sight of her, his eyes longing for her once again.

"Hey," She says as they both walk into the elevator.

"Hey," He said, his eyes never leaving her. As the elevator door closed and starting moving up, silence fell between them.

Unsure if the silence was awkward or not, Y/n said with a joking voice, "So, what was that about yesterday?"

"Hm?" Bruce says for a moment before responding with a sigh, "Oh, it's a really long story." He brings a hand up to rub his eyes, which looked very tired.

"So, you're still doing the Batman stuff?" Y/n asks, looking up at him.

Bruce nods, adding, "After our," he pauses for a moment, "uh, divorce, I didn't know what to do with myself." He looks at her, unsure if bringing up the divorce was still a touchy subject or not.

"Yeah," she says, nodding and scratching the back of her neck, "I wanted to talk to you about that- the divorce."

As Bruce nods once more as the elevator doors open. He was unsure how the conversation would go, what she wanted to talk about, but he prayed for a good result.

Bruce paused for a moment, almost holding his hand out for Y/n to grab so he could lead her to the table like they did when they first started dating, but he couldn't. He takes a step out of the elevator and leads Y/n to the table that Alfred set up. He pulls out a chair, allowing Y/n to sit in it, and when she does, he pushed it in for her.

She barely blushed at this action, reminding herself that she can't do that. She sent a smile at him, watching as he sat down in his own seat across from her.

"So, um," She starts, not knowing how to start the conversation. Her head was down, avoiding eye contact. "I just wanted to tell you why I did it, I know I just left and we never got to talk through it,"

"I understand why you left," Y/n looked up, listening to him. "I was a terrible husband, I hate that it took us splitting up for me to realize that." It was now Bruce's turn to avoid eye contact as he spoke, "I'm truly sorry, for everything I put you through. And I know, a sorry is not even close to enough to what you deserve." He was looking down, feeling her eyes on him.

She leans over the table, placing her hand on his, causing him to look at her. "I know you're sorry, and I am sorry too. I made you choose between something you love doing and me, that was unfair of me to do."

"No, but I should have chose you," he pauses for a moment, looking into her eyes, "I want to choose you." His hand that was beneath hers flips so that their hand was resting in his palm.

Y/n looks down at the movement of his hand, then back up at him, registering his words. "And we'll have to work on that."

"Are you saying-"

"Yeah, we'll work on it," She says nodding, "work on us."

The End

A/n: Thank you so much for reading! Request if you have any!

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richardsgraysons · 6 months ago

Note

Heyyy…. May i request a wife reader x dick grayson… she is mad at him and is giving him a silent treatment, but he is so done with this that he starts annoying her by saying Mrs. Grayson after every sentense and closing tightly lids

anon this is so adorable. i am going feral. also i am so severely sorry for my IA-ness.

tags — just overall fluff. some light swearing

In hindsight, you should've known that this would entail not just dating, but also marrying a vigilante. How could someone blame you, anyways? You were sitting at home, about to go to bed, when Nightwing crashed into your apartment after being chucked across the city by some villain or the other.

He had a major concussion. You didn't know how to treat thrown vigilantes who definitely had a couple of broken ribs and a torn ACL.

What you did know was how to comfort a man who was clearly in pain, who was trying to stifle his screams, because let's face it, the vigilante life should clearly not be glamorized.

He felt bad for the wreckage in your apartment. Every week, there'd be thousands of dollars at your doorstep from him, ready to pay it off. He had to be rich. There was no way he was giving your entire salary in four months and a half.

Eventually, you figured out his secret identity. And instead of being angry about it, Dick Grayson felt awfully in love with a girl who was as intelligent as he hoped she'd be. Sure she wasn't a supermodel, but she made him laugh. She made him think. She wasn't easy to get along with at times, but she made him better.

Three years later, he put a ring on it.

"I told you," you snapped, "you just keep going in stupid situations, and normally, I wouldn't mind, but it's like you refuse my help or anyone else's."

Dick knew he had a really bad hero complex. He couldn't stand anyone else getting hurt because of his issues. "I can handle it," he responded. "And isn't it just annoying that you've been mad at me for the past two days? Can't you just give it a rest?"

"I'll give it a rest when you start accepting help from others," you responded, your brows furrowing. "God, you're so—you're so—ugh!"

Dick rolled his eyes and then smirked at you, that stupid boyish smirk that made your heart tingle and everything else disappear. "I'm so what, sweetheart? What am I, Mrs. Grayson?"

You glared at him. "Dick!" You huffed, both saying his name and the insult. "That's it. I want a cooling down period. Leave me and the kitchen alone!"

He grinned, looking back at you, a mischievous glance in his eye. "Oh, I will, Mrs. Grayson. I will."

* * *

Making dinner was one of your forms of therapy. Dick was starting to go out for patrol, much to your distaste, no doubt about to pick a fight with someone who would give him considerable damage.

You didn't want him to go, you wanted to keep him here and kiss him forever, but he would leave anyways. It's my moral duty to the people of Bludhaven to keep them safe, he had said to you one night. I could never bring it to myself to disappoint these people. To make them unsafe. I'm going to do whatever I can to make sure people are as safe as can be.

And though you really disliked it, you knew that was one of the core reasons why you were so undoubtedly in love with him.

You turned around to grab the jar of pickles, still steaming from the fight, only to find that it was incredibly hard to open.

"What. The. Hell?" You hissed. You had opened it up just a day ago, and put it easily back, making sure it wasn't that hard.

Your face turned red and you looked at it again before trying to open it up, straining and groaning, only for your muscles to give out. There was only one explanation for this.

Your stupid, lovable, husband.

And after a few minutes of recollecting your pride, you stomped over to your bedroom where he was dressing. He was in the midst of putting the top half of his suit on, and your mouth turned a little dry when you saw him shirtless.

You were pretty sure that when the first time you saw him shirtless, literal heart eyes came out of your eyes. You gawked for a couple of seconds, admiring the contour of his muscles, only for him to turn around and smirk at you.

He knew what you were doing. Dammit.

"Hi, Mrs. Grayson," he teased. "Enjoying the view?"

"Shut up," you snapped, and held out the jar. "Open this up right now and stop screwing with my jars."

He smirked at you. "What's the magic word?"

"The magic word is 'I will beat you up if you don't open the jar up right now'," you responded, glaring at him. "Now. Open."

He laughed, tossing his head back, his voice echoing off the room before taking the jar. You watched intently as his triceps flexed when he opened the jar up with ease and returned it back.

"Thank you," you said, your voice having an edge to it. You were about to turn around before he grabbed you by the arm.

"What, no good luck kiss?" Dick asked huskily in your ear. It sent shivers down your spine.

"Even if I give you one, you'll still end up badly injured."

"C'mon," he murmured, planting a light kiss on your neck, his hands dancing on your waist. He squeezed your sides slightly. "I always fight better when my girl kisses me."

You looked up at him and snorted. "In your dreams," you responded, but he took this moment to crash his lips against you. You felt dizzy and couldn't help but to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

When the both of you stopped, he laughed, looking at you breathless, his blue eyes twinkling in the night sky.

"Knew you couldn't be mad at me for that long, Mrs. Grayson."

"Shut up," you grumbled, punching his shoulder lightly. "Go save Bludhaven, Boy Wonder."

He stepped out the window and then turned back at him, smirking. "You know I am, sweetheart. And when I come back, I'm gonna finish what I started."

#dick grayson #dcu #dick grayson x reader #dc comics #nightwing #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you

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cutebat · 3 months ago

Text

Go Home with your Friends Route

Warning(s): No yandere themes, past neglect, a lot of swearing, skipping school, attempted smoking, mentions of pills, bribery, threats

(This is where now you can pick your own choices in this series, so this isn't technically a chapter)

~~~~~

You decided to go home cause honestly, fuck school.

~~~~~

You and your friends all went inside the Wayne Manor after that whole conversation.

"You can put your stuff right there."

You tell them as you point at the corner.

As they did that, the three of you went into the living room and sat on the couch.

It was silent for a moment before you spoke up.

"So, do you guys wanna do anything or what?"

You ask that makes the two of them stare at you.

"You're the one who made us skip with you. How the hell should we know? We've never been to your house before."

Sasha responds as she leans back against the couch.

"Did you really decide to go home so you can avoid Damian?"

Noelle asks as she crossed her arms and puts her leg over her other one.

"Not really. He lives here."

You respond in a nonchalant tone.

"What?"

"Yeah, unfortunately."

"Then, why did you want to go home if you know he lives here?"

"I don't know, I just don't want to be at school right now after everything that happened and he never skips, so we're fine."

It was silent again before Sasha spoke up.

"Can we smoke here?"

She asks as she lightly pushes herself off the couch.

"You can, but I don't know if you should. Bruce banned cigarettes here."

You tell her.

"Okay, well, you hate your dad, your brothers, your sister, and basically anyone who you told us that you hate. So, let us smoke here."

"Holy shit, calm down. Fine, you can. Also, how are you so addicted to this?"

"Blame my mom. I usually steal stuff from her and she has a fuck ton of cigarettes lying around the house. I usually take them when I feel fucked over."

There was a brief silence before you spoke up again.

"... How old are you again?"

"Fifteen?"

"Are you really going to smoke at that age?"

"Bitch, you don't know when you're going to die or not. I don't really care about what my fate is, so why not just use that time to just, you know?"

"I guess that's true."

"Cool. Anyway, Noelle, what kind did you bring today?"

Sasha asks as she turns to her other friend who is just sitting on the couch, not saying a word for the entire time until now.

"I have Marlboro Ultra Lights in my backpack."

She said that made Sasha cringe.

"Seriously? You have the weak ones? What happened to all the good shit you had?"

"My mom started therapy as her New Year resolution ever since she caught my dad having an affair with his intern three years ago. And now, she basically quit smoking and smokes with very weak cigs every two weeks."

Noelle said as she walked over to the corner before returning with her bag.

"So, do you still want to do it, or not?"

Sasha seems to be in thought before she lets out a heavy sigh.

"I don't know... These things don't throw me over that much. I need something that can actually fuck me up."

She said as you spoke up.

"I actually found some pills that my brother's girlfriend had. I think she left them, but they look pretty cool to high over on."

You said as you took out a pill bottle.

"What's that?"

Sasha asks as she stares down at the bottle in your hand.

"I dunno. I just found them on the ground when she left."

You said in response with a shrug.

"Damn... two choices. Smoking or getting high over some pills that we know nothing off."

Noelle mutters out as she stares down at the pills.

~~~~~

Use Bab's pills

Smoke in the house (Coming soon)

•

Taglist: @somebodyrandom-613 @delias-stuff @endism @ragdol-666 @snowy-violet @sleepydhanie @missikkj @k1ttys-w0rld @box-of-kinderjoy @thetreefairypersonalblog @thelibraryofdeez @animegoddess15 @lilyalone @seraph101 @lain3iwakura @tacodeemon @whiterabbitxxx @yuyuzi-ling @lilithquillete @amisupposedtomakesenserightnow @una1002289 @spacetravelr @luckyangelballoon @illytian @ghostdoodlen @imaginarydreams @flyingpansaurus @wrenbirde @kimzzz18 @ohnoivefallen @ferakillia @f1lover4ever @asahi20789 @livingforloves @moonieper @rosecentury @waitingforanarchicaddiction @missmannequin @mischiefmanaged124 @hanselate @doli09 @chocolatemoose26 @enjisthings @stitchtheseconde @purple-lemon-8 @milliu @blublock404 @kimzzz18 @jsprien213 @bluemidnightmelodies @enter-sandmann @tdickensstuff4 @couldeatthatgirlforlunch @starsdotalk @sumikosasaki @erikasurfer @h0rr0r-10ver-69 @0lshadyl0 @ghostlotusnymph @yuyuzi-ling @lilithskywalker @trashlanternfish360 @i-never-saw-snow @couldeatthatgirlforlunch @76lonelyspoons

(If you want to be in the taglist, let me know!)

#yandere #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #batfam #batfamily #yandere x reader #yandere platonic #neglected reader #platonic #yandere dc

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endless-ineffabilities · 6 months ago

Text

Maroon (part five)

modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

When the silence came, we were shaking blind and hazy How the hell did we lose sight of us again?

themes/warnings : angst, Aemond is a bit of an ass who needs therapy, jealousy, miscommunication

word count : 4k

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The Dragonstone ball continues to unfold... Will Aemond ever be able to redeem himself after tonight? Will the reader let him back in?

“... to these three, Strong boys.”

Aemond’s declaration brings the room into a state of silence, everyone in collective surprise.

It is a known truth. One shared among people in hushed tones and averted eyes. But not like this. Never openly, in this way.

Aemond lingers on you, before something - or someone - cuts through in the corner of his vision. Gasps erupt across the hall.

It’s Luke, who reaches Aemond in a flash and disarms him with a rough shove. Aemond barely budges, but is forced to take a step back, his chair skidding loudly across the floor. He laughs menacingly, and simply watches as his nephew makes another move. It doesn’t take long before the security team springs into action. Mr. Westerling puts a hand to Luke’s chest, halting his determined motion.

“Not here, son.” His voice is gruff and commanding. The members of the high table look on, aghast. But Aemond stands still with a smirk on his lips. He raises his glass and takes a confident sip, all whilst staring Luke in the eye.

“You’ve crossed the fucking line,” Luke seethes.

“Have I?” Aemond croons. “I only speak the truth. I was merely expressing how proud I am of my nephews.”

“Aemond, that is enough,” Alicent pleads, wary of the prying attention from the onlookers.

“It’s the truth, isn’t it, mother?”

“Not in front of all of these people.” Alicent doesn’t confirm her son’s statement, but she doesn’t deny it either, and Rhaenyra is quick to note this.

“Enough!” Viserys bellows, and all heads turn to the sound. “The feast… shall commence. Everyone, we apologise for this commotion. You see, this is why family reunions are not to be taken lightly.”

A nervous bout of shared laughter echoes. A line of servers rush out of the corner of the hall, platters of all sorts in their arms. Aemond’s outburst will be ignored. For now.

His jaw is taut, arms tense on his sides like a viper still preparing to strike. You look down and notice that you’ve latched on to Jace’s arm in a death grip, your nerves getting the best of you.

It doesn’t help that it’s the first thing Aemond sees when he turns his attention back to you. It’s enough to divert his thoughts from Luke’s provocation. As you move to sit back down along with the rest of the table, he swiftly strides over to you determinedly, weaving his way past the servers.

“May I speak with you for a moment?” Aemond leans down, whispering. You hear a sense of urgency in his tone, or perhaps his mood is still heightened, his composure strained from the previous argument.

Jace turns his head, and addresses Aemond with a passing glare, but doesn’t say anything. He leaves the choice up to you.

“Can’t this wait?” You whisper back, pausing to smile in thanks at the server who sets down a dish in front of you. “I don’t think I have anything to say to you right now, Aemond.”

“Please, darling,” he implores, still polite. But he knows that one way or another, he's going to have his moment with you.

You take a deep breath, sharing a look with Jace, and he merely nods in acknowledgment. To hell with it.

“I’ll be back in 5 minutes,” you tell Jace. The entire hall is occupied with the feast, and they barely notice when Aemond leads you down an adjacent hallway, then through the side doors. You wonder what his date thinks of this, or if she has even noticed that he left. By the determined way he moves, you doubt whether he even cares.

His hand is at the small of your back, guiding you. Electricity shoots up your spine. Briefly, you consider if you should go back to the hall where it's safe, and it causes your steps to falter.

He appraises you for a moment, waiting.

“Where are we going, Aemond?” you finally ask.

“There’s a balcony just round there - ”

“This is far enough,” you gesture at the empty hallway. “I said I would only take 5 minutes.”

“That’s not long enough,” he protests right away, oddly sounding like a petulant little boy.

“Well, tough.”

He inhales sharply, biting his tongue as he wants to placate you. He wants to make you understand.

He starts to speak, but you cut him off at the same time.

"Darling, I - "

“I don’t know why,” you shake your head at him, at the whole situation, “you do this. Maybe it is because of the accident, sure. I get that. It’s fucked up, what happened. But you shouldn’t have shut me off. I waited for you.” You step forward, and press your hand to his chest. You feel his faint heartbeat resounding beneath. “I didn’t even know what I was waiting for, or for what. But I did.”

He places his hand atop yours, holding it to himself. He did not anticipate that you would be so forward, and it catches him off guard. Whatever ill-prepared speech he had gets caught in his throat. “I didn’t know what to do,” he musters. “I didn’t think you would… still want me.”

Ridiculous. How could I not? “That’s just… an excuse.” Your thought makes itself known. The corner of his mouth lifts in amusement, briefly, before his brows furrow as if something in his line of thinking cast a shadow over what should be a nice sentiment.

“Is it?” he queries, almost mocking. “Look at me. Look at what I almost did back there. You’ve known me for a while, darling, but perhaps you’ve not known me long enough to know how rotten I truly am.”

There’s a menacing glint in his eye, one you’re sure you haven’t truly seen before. Not until tonight’s incident at the hall, and now that it’s being directed at you, you struggle to come to terms with how it makes you feel.

Is this who he really is? Was the Aemond you’ve known a persona he so conveniently wore in the time he met you?

But you cannot ignore that part of you, maybe even greater and strong enough to trump your worries, which knows that you have seen who he is. You’ve always known. Through hints and whispers. And you wanted him anyway.

Aemond’s only ever this gentle around you, everyone said.

Why would he be? What could he ever have gotten out of it? What else, but you?

You say nothing, merely watching the storm in his blazing blue eye. His sneering expression softens, suddenly conscious at how you seem to study him. At how your eyes greedily rake over his face, taking him in like you haven’t been able to in a long while.

After those long and tortuous weeks apart, this is the first time you get to look at him without any distractions. Without the commotion of the ball. Without him trying to hide.

“Then show me,” you finally say.

He makes a surprised noise. His usual hum, but lilting.

Maybe you can blame it on that damned firewine, or you’ve gone insane, because you didn’t expect you would be so gutsy at this moment. But before you can question where your newfound bravery came from, and before your nerves from earlier can resurface, you raise your hand and let it hover over his leather eyepatch.

He hums again, this time low in his throat. A warning.

Your fingers make contact, ghosting over the smooth surface. You wince internally as you also touch a patch of his scar right under. You don’t even want to imagine how much pain he was in. You can’t, or you’ll lose all your nerve, and likely start crying.

Keep it together, now.

Aemond remains unmoving, a feat considering his pounding heartbeat. He lets you continue, and ignores the instinctive twitch in his palms that compel him to push your hand away.

When your thumb runs over the bottom ridge of his eyepatch, you catch his eye. “Aemond,” you whisper, asking for permission.

You barely lift his eyepatch when his hand wraps around your wrist in a vice grip, halting any movement. You look at him questioningly, searching, but his expression stays the same. Lips pursed in a tight line, jawline taut. His gaze holding you in place.

You don’t say anything for a moment, but neither of you show any desire to move away.

You watch as he finally lowers his head, the hand around your wrist gently drifting to cradle your palm against his ruined cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he says, all false bravado gone.

“It’s okay,” you say, letting your thumb run gently over his scar. “You don’t have to show me.”

“I want to, I just - ” He looks at you, words left unsaid, but you understand all the same.

“I know,” you smile sadly. “I can wait.”

It’s not long before his arm abruptly drops to his side, causing your hand to fall from his face.

“You shouldn't have to,” he looks away then, his distant expression returning. “It’s not fair to you. All this waiting.”

You shake your head at the change in his approach. The Aemond you think you know has always been a steady presence, observant and committed to the task at hand. Has he always been this mercurial?

“Don’t you want me to?” you remark, disbelief lacing your voice. You step even closer, glaring up at him. “Is this why you brought me here? To finally put an end to all of this?”

He doesn’t respond right away, and the bastard just stares at you. His good eye rakes across the planes of your face, falling to your exposed shoulders and the outline of your dress, then back again. If you didn’t know any better, it almost looks like longing, like he actually wants you.

And it infuriates you even more.

You decide that - no - he doesn’t get to look at you like that and yet act in the way he does. “Our 5 minutes are up.”

You turn around, your skirts swivelling with the movement. Each step feels decisive, like you’re walking away from something - someone - important. But you do anyway.

“Wait,” you hear him murmur under his breath, but you don’t let it sway you.

Then you hear his footsteps, heavy and sure.

“I said wait,” Aemond repeats, commanding. You startle when he gets a hold of your arm, squeezing by the crook of your elbow, bringing you to a stop.

“For wh - ”

The words are stolen from your mouth in a rushed breath, when his lips claim yours. This is not the gentle Aemond you might have known, as he kisses you with an intensity that is bruising and relentless.

You’re quite sure you had something witty retort prepared, something to put him in his place. Whatever that was, it’s all forgotten as his tongue glides along your bottom lip. As the kiss deepens and you feel the sharpness of teeth.

“Hmm,” he purrs when he pulls away, and you feel it reverberate low in his chest where your palms are pressed. He connects his forehead to yours, and you’re grateful for it. The feeling of something solid calms the dizzying sensation in your head.

You barely register the silence that filled the room, as your ears are ringing with the sound of your racing heartbeat and the small breaths that escape his lips. You think to say something and almost do, but then he crashes his lips against yours again.

Demanding more.

You feel yourself moving, Aemond guiding your movement, akin to the dance you shared in the great hall. Instinctively, you flinch when your shoulder blades collide with a marble pillar, causing you to bite down on his lip.

A surprised hiss escapes his lips, followed by a low growl.

Then, almost predictably, he dons his signature shit-eating smirk. He liked it.

He hums as he lowers and plants a kiss on your neck, sucking a spot tender. "I think you missed me too, darling." Aemond has become a concoction of smugness and self-loathing, which makes for volatile tendencies as you witnessed in the Great Hall.

This won't make for a steady, healthy, calm affair. You just know it won't. But as he leaves a sure mark on your neck that causes the heat to pool down in your core, none of it matters.

You accept that Aemond is the poison you chose.

Gods, I'm starting to become melodramatic.

"Hmm?" he queries, and you realise that some of your private thoughts might have escaped the confines of your mind.

"Nothing."

He smirks, mostly to himself, gaze levelling with yours. He brings you closer, both hands gripping your waist, until your bodiced chest is pressed to the smooth leather of his tunic. From his height, he can't help but look down and enjoy the view.

A confession springs from his lips, without any hint of shame. "As much as you look good in that dress, darling," his gaze openly rakes over you, like a predator sizing up his prey, "it would look much more suited on the fucking floor."

Oh, damn him to the seven hells.

You’re so caught up in a haze, legs instinctively pressing together as a result of his lustful advances, that the oncoming clatter of heels against porcelain tile is almost imperceptible, but it snaps you out of it anyway.

“Aemond,” you grip his forearms and pry them away from you, having to use a bit more force now.

“Aemond!” Someone’s else voice echoes, closing in. It’s Alys, striding down the hall with sheer confidence. No doubt on her way to reclaim her date.

Her date. Not mine. What the hell am I doing?

You give him a withering look, and he straightens, folding his arms behind him.

“Alys,” he greets her coolly when she reaches the two of you.

“You can’t just run off like that,” she scolds, glancing at you just once before seemingly deciding you’re not worth the time. “They’re taking photos of everyone. You’re my partner. You need to present yourself with me.”

“There’s no rush,” Aemond says. And there truly isn’t. He knows that those bloody photographers would wait endlessly for him, of all people. No matter how long, just so they can get exclusive snaps of what people are deeming the return of the Prince of the City. “Give us a few minutes.”

"You've had more than a few minutes," Alys counters, unrelenting. Anyone else would've spun on their heel already, shirking under Aemond's pointed gaze. But not her. She's learned from having to deal with his moods.

And besides, he took her as his date. He owes her the satisfaction of having this as a part of her image. The city's most wanted bachelor with no one but her on his arm. Call her opportunistic, Alys doesn't care. This is the game, and she will play.

"Sweetheart," she says to you, the name not matching the condescension in her tone, "I believe Jace is looking for you too."

"Right, of course." You take a deep breath before finally walking away, hoping that the flush that's likely on your face doesn't give anything away.

Just before you pass by Alys, she says your name. Bringing a perfectly manicured finger to the corner of her lips, she dabs at it in some sort of gesture. "You've got a bit of lipstick there, sweetheart. Might want to tidy that up."

"Alys," Aemond warns, unamused by how Alys is sizing you up, like you're beneath her.

She knows. Of course she does.

Alys has a sneer that can make anyone feel like nothing but dirt on the sole of her high heels, but you stand your ground, despite the chill running up your spine. Her approach to you now is a drastic change from the friendly and poised confidence she sported when you first met her at the Targaryen penthouse.

Sparing Aemond a cursory glance, you address her with a self-assured smile of your own. "He's all yours. I'll leave you to it."

You feel both of them watch as you walk away. It might be all the glam and the buzz of the ball which leads to your next thought. Vain, but you let yourself have it anyway. Feeling like a runaway princess as your gown billows around your legs.

Aemond isn't yours. It was my mouth against his just a minute ago, his tongue dancing with mine.

When you return to the table, Jace immediately asks how it went, to which you just tiredly shrugged and said, "Uneventful."

He narrows his eyes at you. "You'll tell me later."

In the middle of your meal, Aegon approaches, clearly more sloshed drunk than he was before. Jace just watches him, with the calm recognition that this is not the uncle to watch out for.

"Hello, kids," Aegon leans against the table. He angles his head close to you, like he is about to divulge some secret. "Not that I was checking you out or anything, just saw it from where I was sitting over there and - "

"What do you want, Aegon?" Jace shakes his head, bored with his uncle's antics.

"Alright, alright!" Aegon playfully holds his hands up, wine glass and all. "No hostility from me, nephew. Just letting her know that maybe she should cover up my brother's work."

"What are you on about? Maybe drink some bloody water instead, mmm?" Jace counters.

His brother's work? Oh gods.

Your hand shoots up to your exposed neck, and the tender spot makes itself known as soon your fingers drift above it.

Jace's confused expression disappears when he realizes where your hand immediately went to. "Oh, really?"

You sigh guiltily. Scanning the table quickly, you don't find Aemond there to glare at. He must be posing for the cameras somewhere with his date. You find a friendlier face in Helaena, who catches on to your nervous expression.

She floats over to the small commotion of your little group, practically having to shove Aegon out of the way.

"You alright?" she asks sincerely, and you can't bring yourself to say, everything's fine, but I was wondering if you could lend me some concealer because your dear brother left something on my neck.

Thankfully, you don't have to. Or not thankfully, because Aegon does it for you in a way only he can.

Tapping on his own neck and gesturing to you, he explains, "Aemond's a monster, sis," through a graceless swig of firewine and then, "horny jail for him."

"Actually," he raises his arms like he's making some proclamation, "horny jail for both of you kids. Where is he anyway?"

"Leave it, Aegon." Helaena rolls her eyes, then offers her hand to you. "How about we run to the ladies room and take care of that?"

Thank the gods for Helaena.

"You owe me," she says, as the two of you head to the side of the hall, "and Aegon might be right."

"About what?"

She slaps your arm playfully, and you feign shock but a giggle slips out due to her expression.

"You and Aemond, I swear," she laughs dryly. "He's been even more sullen and emo since the accident - actually, the both of you have been - and now you're back to making out right in the middle of the ball!"

"We weren't - " you start to say, but you're met with Helaena's don't-you-dare kind of glare.

"It's your brother's fault, you know," you shrug as you enter the ladies room.

"Oh, I know," Helaena nods, pulling what she needs out of her purse. Right before she dabs concealer to the purplish spot on your neck, she can't help but smirk and add, "but still... horny jail for you."

- - - - - - - - - -

Aemond doesn't know how much more of this he can take.

The cameraman clicks again, the damned flash is enough to blind his remaining eye.

Alys, being Alys, brought her own personal photographer to the ball. Which is fine, all things considered. She does this for every ball, every year. Aemond's well versed in her ways.

But for some reason, now it's driving him to be more irate.

She positioned them in a partially hidden alcove at the back of the hall. Something to do with a painting she wants to get captured as the background. But it's taking too long, and Aemond can sense the attention of some guests being piqued.

If they ask to take photos with him, too, Aemond just might pull off a runner and abandon the bloody ball.

But not without you.

Where were you anyway? One second you were at the table, then the next you were trailing after Helaena back out of the hall.

At least it was his sister you are with, and not Jacaerys. Or gods forbid, that degenerate Stark boy.

It wouldn't matter to Aemond that he's not his father's top boy, his most precious heir. Whatever pull he has with the Dragonstone empire, he will use against Winterfell Limited, if Cregan Stark ever thinks he can have his way with you.

He catches himself, mid-thought.

And she still thinks I'm not rotten.

"Aemond," Alys lightly digs her nails in his arm, smiling through gritted perfect teeth. "Smile, why don't you?"

"I am."

"Just one more."

So he does. Barely. But it's enough to placate her, and she quickly sifts through the photos.

Almost on instinct, like he's a moth drawn to your flame, he spies you and Helaena making your way back in the hall. Arm in arm, laughing to each other. You bite your lip as you lean in and whisper something in her ear, which makes her shake her head and laugh even harder.

Several heads turn as you pass by, and Aemond can't really blame them.

"Just like that," Alys says out the blue.

"What?" Aemond turns to her, unaware that she stands beside him once more, her photographer already dismissed.

"If only you smiled like that for our photos," she says. "It looks good on you."

Was he smiling? He didn't even notice.

You turn your head just before sitting back down at the table, and catch his eye even as he stands near the end of the hall.

You always will.

Aemond smiles.

- - - - - - - - - -

preview: part six

You hear it. There's someone at your front door. Living alone has never given you much anxiety before, and you didn't think it would start tonight. But who could be knocking at your door past midnight, when you didn't buzz anyone in? You were never on close terms with your neighbours, either.

You sit on your couch looking like a deer in headlights, staring at the door like it's supposed to silence the knocking.

When did you get so wary? It could be Jace. It could be Helaena. But then again, they're not the type to show up unannounced. And also, you would have buzzed them -

Aemond's voice calls out your name, quieting your worries.

You can sense hesitance in his tone. Almost embarrassed. Like he knows he shouldn't be here.

"Aemond?" you find your voice, and go to open the door. You start to ask him just what the hell he's doing here, but the words get caught in your throat.

"Hi, darling," he says weakly, obviously tired. "I didn't know where else to go."

Something resembling a gasp escapes your lips when you fully take in the fresh bruise blooming under his right eye, in angry shades of maroon and violet. The skin split slightly, but thankfully his eye is untouched.

"Aemond, what - "

"Can I come in?"

Series taglist: @caught-in-the-afterglow @aemondtargaryensrider @punggo66 @dollfaceyourfear @candypurplebutterfly @moonmaiden1996 @mxrgodsstuff @lolitaisreal @blue-serendipity @melsunshine @thejanecampaign @fxngsfxgxrty @padfooteyes @msmarvel-19 @tempo-rary-fix @lauraneedstochill @julczimozart @sarcasticfangirl @witchyv @pyjama-shorts @bellaisasleep @zillahvathek @thincrusttheworks @krispold @yougotthatlove @raging-panda @fleetingly-artistic @throughgoeshamilton @polireader @katsav17 @minttea07 @kravitzwhore @meggiemay82 @hedonefox @daenysx @schniiipsel @namoreno @afro-hispwriter @aemondswifeisme @emcharra @malfoytargaryen @iiamthehybrid @fullmetalriotts @kellzlib @justsumtuffstuff @daydreamy-me @yentroucnagol @kezibear @queenofshinigamis @paprikaquinn

oh, Maroon...

My Aemondfire is decisively back <3 expect more of our favourite boy.

#ewan mitchell #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 3 months ago

Note

so i have a VERY BAD FEVER AND I WANT CRYO LADIES USING THEIR VISION TO COOL OF sick! S/O

(you can also add any other charafter of your liking ❤️❤️)

(Genshin Impact) Eula, Rosaria, Ayaka, Ganyu, and Shenhe using their vision on a sick S/O

This is completely unrelated to the ask, but while writing this I've been listening to the Winter Soldier theme from Captain America. And for such a lovely ask it is very strange writing to one of the hardest themes I've ever heard in my life.

Eula huffs and puffs when her S/O gets sick, but absolutely does not hesitate to begin applying Cryo therapy.

As long as it wasn't contagious anyway.

With one hand gently resting against their forehead as she sits next to them in bed, Eula can't help but brush her fingers across their hair while doing so.

Her expression is gentle, until the moment S/O speaks up.

(Eula) "Am I enjoying this? Of course not, my plans must be halted because you had the audacity to fall ill. Something I will not forget easily, of course. I could always freeze you right here and now."

Yet, her hand is resting on S/O's face still, fingers rubbing down to their cheek as if they were made of glass.

Rosaria honestly didn't think of using her Cryo vision to bring down S/O's fever.

She really only used it for work, and S/O sure as hell wasn't on her list for tonight of people to use it on.

But, at their insistence, she lets her hand cool them down, being very careful to use it sparingly.

(Rosaria) "If it gets too cold, let me know, I guess. Don't say I didn't warn you, though."

Rosaria tries to be as gentle as she can, and has to remove her gloves to avoid poking S/O in the eyes.

Her own hand feeling S/O so tenderly gets her a little flustered, the only way S/O can tell was by her actively avoiding meeting their eyes.

Ayaka felt like a stroke of genius hit her when she brought S/O's high temperature down.

With a smile, Ayaka eagerly sits down with S/O in order to help.

(Ayaka) "Please, rest easy S/O. Would you like anything to eat while I'm here?"

She could just hire some help or get Thoma to help S/O, but part of her quite enjoyed being the one to care for S/O.

It was unfortunate they were sick, but she sure wasn't going to complain about spending time with S/O, especially when she could actively help them.

The entire time she's with them, Ayaka's smile never really goes away.

Ganyu has done the same to herself whenever she felt under the weather, though without too much effect since she was used to the cold.

But she breathed a massive sigh on relief when it had a visible effect on S/O's fever.

(Ganyu) "Ah, good! It's working! The medicine should be working soon, but in the meantime!-"

She brings a little bit of her paperwork to get through as she sits next to S/O, multi-tasking to help them recover.

Even if her S/O insists that they don't have to worry, she'll still take care of them anyway.

Work was important, but the love of her life was even moreso.

Shenhe, on top of retrieving some medicinal herbs and creating a brew concocted by her master, helps S/O's fever with her Vision.

...By grabbing onto their forehead with her entire hand, looking like she was about to crush their head instead of heal.

(Shenhe) "Are you comfortable S/O? Please relax and I'll bring down your temperature."

Careful with both her strength and Vision, she used them in moderation in order to help, much to S/O's terror when half their vision was blotted out by her palm.

The entire time Shenhe is focused on making sure S/O recovers well, trying her best to make sure they were comfortable.

Was it entirely comfortable? Truthfully, no. It was a little awkward.

But damned if S/O wasn't grateful that Shenhe was trying.

#genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #eula x reader #rosaria genshin impact x reader #ayaka kamisato x reader #ganyu x reader #shenhe x reader #eula lawrence #rosaria genshin impact #ayaka kamisato #ganyu genshin impact #shenhe genshin impact

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dreamwritesimagines · 6 months ago

Text

The Eye of the Hurricane [19] - Couples Therapy

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: A therapy session can be enlightening.

Word Count: 2300

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

It wasn’t like you thought taking Bucky to couple’s therapy for your technically fake marriage was going to be easy, but you didn’t think it would be this difficult.

Bucky bounced his leg beside you on the sofa while you both sat in the waiting room, his eyes darting around the room as if he expected someone to attack him at any moment.

“What happens if she asks me questions?” he asked you gruffly and you pulled your brows together.

“You’ll be fine.”

Bucky huffed out and turned to you.

“How about instead of doing this, I just pay you money to walk out of here?”

“Not gonna happen, Bucky.”

“I’ll put the weekend house under your name, you like it there.”

“The weekend house will be mine once we get a divorce anyway,” you reminded him. “It’s on the prenup.”

Bucky licked his lips. “Do you want another house?”

“Stop trying to bribe me,” you told him as he eyed the door to the therapist’s office before fixing the gun in his waistband and you gasped.

“Why did you bring a gun to the therapy?!” you hissed and he narrowed his eyes.

“We don’t know what expects us in there!” he whispered back, making your jaw drop.

“Do you seriously think—Bucky, look me in the eye and tell me you think our therapist is going to try to shoot us in couple’s therapy—”

“Mr. and Mrs. Barnes?” the therapist’s voice reached you as the door opened and you both turned to her before you smiled at her sweetly.

“Hi!”

“You can come in,” she said, stepping aside and you let out a breath, then stood up, holding Bucky by the arm to signal him to stand as well. Bucky heaved a sigh as if he was being tortured but followed you into the room dutifully and you both sat down on the couch, the therapist taking her seat soon after.

“Dr. Raynor,” you said and she smiled back at you.

“Mrs. Barnes.”

“Y/N is fine,” you said and motioned at Bucky. “And this is Bucky.”

Bucky gave her a curt nod quietly and you cleared your throat, shifting your weight.

“My therapist Dr. Cooper recommended you,” you told her. “She speaks very highly of you.”

“Dr. Cooper is a very respected colleague of mine,” she told you. “The feeling is mutual. So what brings you here?”

“Well, we’ve just got married,” you said. “And I’ve been in therapy since I was a child, basically. Bucky on the other hand has a more distant stance towards it so I figured it could help us both if we did it together.”

Dr. Raynor nodded and turned to Bucky.

“And what about you Bucky?” she asked. “What brings you here?”

Bucky raised his brows before pointing at you with his thumb. “She did.”

You crossed your arms, leaning back in the couch and Dr. Raynor hummed.

“You don’t think you should be here?”

“Honestly doc, I have no idea why I’m here,” he said. “I’m fine, our marriage is fine, so...”

“It hasn’t been a month since we got married,” you added. “Just putting it out there. But I think it’ll help Bucky if we build this—habit.”

She turned to Bucky. “And how about you?” she asked. “How do you feel about therapy, Bucky?”

“My dad would always say whatever your problems are, they should stay between your two ears instead of anyone else’s,” Bucky replied, bouncing his leg again. “Hate to agree with the guy, but he has a point.”

“George isn’t exactly the epitome of good mental health, Buck.”

Bucky shrugged his shoulders. “Either way.”

“Fathers may have different viewpoints especially when it comes to mental health,” Dr. Raynor said. “Given their generation.”

Bucky clicked his tongue. “Well, he and my mother have never been to therapy and they’re fine.”

“Your father had like one thousand mistresses,” you pointed out, making Dr. Raynor raise her brows and Bucky made a face.

“Allegedly.”

“It’s not allegedly, Becca literally told me she once—”

“Bucky, how would you describe your parents’ marriage?” she asked and Bucky heaved a sigh.

“They’re fine.”

“Would you say you look up to their marriage?” she asked. “Or that you want to have a similar one?”

You scoffed. “Good luck with that.”

“You wouldn’t want to have that?” she asked and you shook your head.

“Bucky can’t disrespect me like that.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

You pulled your brows together, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Both,” you said without looking at him. “We have a deal, so I believe he will hold up his end of the deal.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the proud smile curling Bucky’s lips and Dr. Raynor nodded.

“Anything else you feel like you took after your father, besides your opinion on therapy?”

“Why are we talking about my father?” Bucky asked back while you tried to hold back the retort. “I thought this was couples therapy.”

“We can talk about anything you feel like we need to talk about,” Dr. Raynor said. “But most of the time, our parents’ relationship is the blueprint of our own relationships even if we don’t realize it.”

“That’s not what’s happening here,” Bucky said, motioning at you. “It’s different.”

“How?”

“What she said,” Bucky said curtly, nodding in your direction and you heaved a sigh. “He’s good with my mom, and he’s great with my sister, no need to talk about him.”

“But not with you?” Dr. Raynor asked and Bucky dragged his tongue over his teeth.

“He’s fine.”

“Bucky,” said and he shot you a look.

“What?”

“He’s fine with you? Really?”

“Y/N, not everyone needs a father, okay?” he insisted. “Some of us need a boss while growing up in this business.”

“I don’t think you needed a boss instead of a father when you were a kid, actually,” you insisted, making Dr. Raynor tilt her head.

“Would you mind explaining that?” she asked. “That boss comment?”

Bucky drummed his fingertips on his knee.

“It’s a part of…” he stopped himself and cleared his throat. “My father knew what I was capable of, so he pushed me until I saw it. Until I proved myself. That’s not a terrible thing, it worked out after all.”

You licked your lips.

“Really?” you asked. “So you’d be totally okay with following his footsteps?”

That made him stop for a moment and he scoffed.

“Fine, I wouldn’t do the cage fight because that shit’s medieval but it was because he knew I could handle it,” he defended him. “He’s great with Becca, and I don’t need him to be good with me. We don’t have that kind of relationship.”

Your stomach did a painful flip. “I forgot about that.”

“Cage fight?” Dr. Raynor asked and you both turned to her, Bucky crossing his arms over his chest. You nibbled on your lip.

“Um,” you said. “Our fathers are... CEOs and we both have family companies. There’s this tradition that—the family company has a boss and an heir and when you’re the heir, you need to show that you can handle the job.”

She frowned slightly.

“And the job can get pretty physical,” you said as Bucky let out a bitter chuckle beside you. “And one of the requirements is…when an heir is picked after years of training and everything, once the boss decides it’s time for them to prove themselves, they put you in a cage with other um—” you thought for a moment. “Some professional fighters that happen to be in the business as well, working under the family. Bodyguards, if you will.”

Not bodyguards.

They would put the heir in a cage with the best fighters working for the boss.

“But usually the bosses ask the heir to prove themselves right before they pass the crown, so to speak,” you said and stole a look at him. “Not George though.”

“I was ready to prove myself.”

“At sixteen?” you asked him. “No one fucking asks that of the heir at sixteen, Buck. My father didn’t even put Ian through that yet.”

“I was already his heir, he wanted to make sure,” Bucky said. “I beat everyone up in that cage, didn’t I?”

“Your nose was broken,” you counted with your fingers. “Three of your ribs, you could barely see through one eye for like two weeks because of how swollen it was—”

“But I proved myself,” he pointed out, making you clench your jaw and Dr. Raynor sat up straighter, trying to shake off the shock. “I’m glad I did it, I’d do it again.”

“You see?” you asked. “And then he asks me why we need therapy.”

“I don’t need therapy,” Bucky shot back. “I don’t even know why I’m here, I'm perfectly fine.”

Dr. Raynor licked her lips, then grabbed the notebook by her side while Bucky pursed his lips, slipping a little on the couch.

“Great,” he said. “She has a notebook and everything. Charm, how soon can we leave?”

Well, no one had gotten shot during your first couples therapy session, so as far as you were concerned, it was a success. Bucky had to drop by his office for half an hour to check on something, and after that you figured you could go to lunch together to discuss the next step in your plan so you tagged along.

Becca was already there in his office when you two walked in and Bucky tilted his head.

“What are you doing here?”

“Mom sent me,” she told him before coming to kiss your cheek. “Hey!”

“Hi there,” you said, kissing her cheek back. “We’re going to grab lunch after this, do you want to come?”

“Sure, I could eat,” she said, flinging herself on the couch. “Steve is here too, by the way.”

Bucky frowned. “Did you two come together?”

“Nope, I ran into him by the entrance,” she said while you took your spot next to her and Bucky walked to his laptop to switch it on.

“Mom sent you?” Bucky asked and rolled his eyes. “Let me guess, dad asked her to?”

Becca raised her hands while you gritted your teeth at the mention of George.

“You can’t shoot the messenger, there’s truce now.”

“Then why does it feel like I’m going to get shot by the messenger?” Bucky asked back, making her grin.

“You know how mom is,” she reminded him. “She wants all of us to get along. I take it you’re not willing to have another dinner anytime soon?”

“Fuck no—”

“Hey,” Steve said, knocking on the door and waved at you before turning to Bucky. “You’re busy?”

“Not at all,” Bucky said. “Did we have a meeting today? Did I forget?”

“Nah, I was just around,” Steve said. “Figured I could give you the news myself. Clint is flying to Chicago.”

Bucky pulled his brows together. “What?”

Steve shot him a grin. “My reaction exactly,” he said and came to sit on the other sofa. “How was therapy?”

“Ask Y/N,” Bucky said, clicking on something on his laptop. “She was the one who dragged me there.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “He brought a gun to therapy.”

Becca’s eyes widened. “Did you shoot the therapist, Bucky?!”

“No!” Bucky exclaimed. “Jesus, you two have zero trust in me.”

“How was it, really?” Steve asked you and you shrugged your shoulders.

“He’ll find it easier in the following weeks.”

Bucky frowned at you.

“Following weeks?” he asked. “We’re going there again?”

“Bucky, therapy is not like getting vaccinated,” Becca pointed out. “You can’t just have one session and expect it to fix your shit.”

“I don’t have the time—”

“I already talked to your assistant for the next month, try me,” you said sweetly and Bucky let out a groan, then turned to Steve.

“What is it about Clint and Chicago?”

“Well, he seems to believe that he can convince Rhett.”

Becca’s head whipped up and she blinked a couple of times while you tried to keep a straight face, and subtly pressed your index finger on your lips, giving her a slight grin. She let out a breath, then turned to Steve while Bucky scoffed.

“Yeah, that’s impossible.”

“What’s that about Chicago?” Becca asked and Steve heaved a sigh.

“Chicago’s prince became the new king recently,” he explained. “I thought it was hard to talk to his father, I spoke way too soon.”

“Yeah, he’s a dickhead,” Bucky pointed out while you bit inside your cheek to keep your laughter in. Becca sat up straighter.

“Why?”

“He doesn’t trust anyone who’s not from Chicago,” Steve said. “Refuses to do business with anyone else.”

“But doesn’t he kind of have to do it?” Becca asked. “Even we do business with other cities.”

“Chicago is different, Bec,” Bucky said. “They have their own rules, and as of now, they don’t actually need other cities.”

“Word on the street they might have to do it soon though,” Steve said. “Every boss in New York is trying to convince him, but as Bucky said, he’s a dickhead so…”

“That’s pointless, I’m telling you,” Bucky said as he typed at his laptop, then slammed the lid shut. “Okay, I’m done. Lunch?”

“I have a meeting with Sam,” Steve said as he stood up from the couch and he and Bucky walked to the door while Becca clicked her tongue, turning to look at you with a huge grin on her face.

“So,” she said and you hummed.

“Yes?”

“I take it he doesn’t know?”

“Nope.”

“None of them do?”

You shook your head, still smiling and Becca let out a laugh, then threw her arm over your shoulder.

“Nice plan,” she said and you giggled.

“Thank you,” you said, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Let’s go, you know how hungry therapy makes me.”

Chapter 20

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readychilledwine · 1 year ago

Text

Slow Hands

Azriel x Vanserra Oc

Azriel returns from a rough mission very sore. The typical ointments Madja uses aren't helping to relieve the tension, so the healer suggests Azriel goes to see Lyria, a pretty little healer who specializes in massage therapy.

Warnings - NSFW, but nothing is graphic. Accidental orgasm from a service. Some swearing. Unedited. Dearest minors, DNI.

Word count- 2,639

Random author's note - I just believe it should be cannon that the Vanserras give the best massages. They're literally fae heating pads/hot water bottles.

Part Two

Azriel walked beside Rhysand in silence as they made their way to the building Madja had asked Azriel to visit.

The two had not spoken since the incident with Elain, but he could tell Rhys, who had paused hand halfway up to knock on the door, wanted to tell him something.

Rhys cleared his throat. "Do you remember me coming home from the mountain and saying I decided to bring a new friend to Velaris?"

Azriel nodded, refusing to verbally break his silence to his brother, to which Rhys rolled his eyes. "This is her. She is Lucien's sister. Be. Kind. She is doing this for you as a favor to me."

Rhys knocked on the door before winnowing away, leaving Azriel standing there awkwardly. Shock set in as golden light flooded the streets. There, in the doorway, smiling gently was the mirror image of the Lady of Autumn, only shorter.

"You must be Azriel," he stared down at the pretty female, mouth going dry as he tried to figure out how to form words. "Come in. I'm Lyria, by the way." She smiled softly at him and continued walking.

Her home was warm, inviting, and comfortable. It smelled like lavender and something slightly medicinal Azriel could not place. "Rhys doesn't normally have his wings out when we do this." Azriel followed her, admiring her legs and ass in her tight leggings, as she directed him through her home. "Are you able to lay on your back?"

"I am." Azriel was studying her fully as they entered a room with a table centered in it and glass bottles lining a cabinet. Her red hair was pulled into braids and pins with a few pieces falling into loose curls. Her high cheekbones reminded Azriel very much of her mother, and her constellation of freckles lining her nose and cheeks were the only clear sign of her relation to Eris. Her golden sun kissed skin, though, that was Azriel's clear indication of who her father truly was.

All in all, he knew she was beautiful. Truly beautiful, and Azriel felt himself thinking of 100 other things he could do with her besides what Rhysand and Madja describe as a "back rub, but better."

He watched Lyria shift, clearly noting the way he was looking at her. "If you're comfortable, I just need you to take all of your clothing off and lay on that table. We will start with you on your back. Just put the towel where you want it for privacy. I can step out. Let me know when you're ready."

Azriel watched her walk out, eyes glued on her body. Rhys, the tone in his mind was slighly annoyed as he felt familiar claws enter his shields.

Azriel, A laughing purr answered back, Is she to your liking?

You're an asshole. A better warning would have been nice. Azriel slammed him out as he finished removing the leathers and siphons from his body before getting on the heated table. He sighed, shadows slowing down and stilling before opening the door and gently grabbing Lyria.

She moved silently through the room, fae lights dimming as she grabbed a few things. "Rhys said you'd prefer lotion over oil, is that accurate?" Azriel just nodded, a feeling of vulnerability sitting in.

He was naked in the presence of a female related to two males who absolutely hated him. A female who could wield fire as easily as breathing. His only comforts were the sign that she clearly thought nothing of his nakedness, and that his shadows had already told him she had no weapons in her home.

"I'm assuming they explained this to you? And let you know I'd be touching you a lot during this?" Azriel confirmed to her quietly they had. "If anything hurts, or makes you uncomfortable in any way, or you just do not like the way it feels, let me know right away. Is it okay if I start?" Consent. She wanted his consent to touch him. He nodded slowly and felt his shoulders instantly tense as she touched him.

Her hands were warm and so soft. Gently moving along the planes of his tight muscles in slow, long strokes. She was using enough pressure to map out areas of his body that were tighter than others but not being rough enough to hurt him. Azriel groaned as she found a knot near this collarbone. Her hands instantly began working in that area. "Does that feel okay?"

"It feels great." The room was filled with the sounds of water running softly, of animals in a forest. It even smelled like the Illyrian Mountains. The soft scent of magic, her magic, floated in the air as Lyria created an environment the High Lord had told her his spymaster would relax easiest in.

Azriel felt himself giving completely into her hands, melting in her touch, eyes closing. He groaned and moaned occasionally in appreciation and pleasure.

"There we go," she whispered softly. "Just relax. I'll take care of you." He felt his mind drifting as she worked down his arms, his torso, the fronts of his thighs.

Lyria was watching the Shadowsinger's little reactions to figure out where to focus, what areas she needed to work longer, and where the male held the most tension. She was also trying to ignore a growing aspect that had begun to pop up.

She worked her way back up to his shoulders, running her hands below his back, between his wings, causing another moan to leave his throat. This one, though, had her pausing. "I'm sorry," she whispered as she gently ran her hands from the spot they were in and up his neck. "I am so sorry."

Azriel chuckled slightly, eyes opening to look up at her. Her bottom lip had tucked between her teeth. She's nervous, his shadows began whispering to him. She was worried she had hurt him or he was feeling violated. "It's okay. They're sensitive, but that feels amazing."

"I can sto-"

"Please, do not stop."

Lyria nodded, her lip still tucked into her teeth. "You can roll onto your back if you'd like, and are um, able to." It was then that Azriel realized what she meant.

"Please tell me this happens all of the time?" His face was flushed as he threw an arm over it. "You have male clients, this happens all of the time right?"

Lyria was instantly giggling. The noise like soft bells in his ears making him smile and relax. "Of course. Rhys especially. Roll over. I want to use a different lotion on your back." Lyria turned away, grabbing a different glass bottle.

Azriel rolled over taking the time to admire her body again. Thinking of how pretty she'd look tied up in his shadows. She'd look pretty in any position, naked or dressed. He put his head down, trying to focus on relaxing and not his growing need to bend her over the nearest surface.

Lyria moved back to him, warming the lotion she had on her hands, "Are you okay with lotion getting in your hair? You carry a lot of tension here," Azriel shivered as she was near the lowest base of his wings. She was being careful not to touch them, but just the ghosting of her fingers near them was causing his touch starved body to react. It also didn't help that her voice was a siren spell, "through the upper part of your spine and into your scalp. I feel like I can work it all out, but I need to get the tension in your scalp out too, or you'll have headaches all the time."

"You can do whatever you want to me," Azriel felt himself tense back up at the response. He knew he meant it. He knew he'd allow his female to take what she wanted from him without hesitation.

"What a generous offer. You'll have to buy me dinner first." Lyria moved. Starting his massage again at his feet.

"Fuck," Azriel groaned. He heard her chuckle as she worked and he relaxed into her touch once more.

Discomfort hit him again as she began to work up his legs, easing the tension in his thighs. "Is this okay? You are really tight on your legs and hips." Azriel nodded at her question, groaning as she began working out knots in areas he would have never suspected. "Am I hurting you?" Gods no, he thought to himself. "Do you want me to talk to you to distract you?"

"Hearing your voice is making it worse." Azriel bit his lip to hold in a moan as she began to work the other side. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head, smiling slightly. "Not hurting you then. You are fine, Azriel. Just relax. It's just your body reacting. It's normal."

His name rolling off her tongue made Azriel feel like his soul was lit on fire and an ache started in his chest. He began to imagine what she'd sound like with his head between her thighs, his hands squeezing her breasts, her legs wrapped around his waist as he buried himself so deep into her they became one.

Lyria continued her work, ignoring the growing scent of his arousal as the tension in his lower back released. She then made a rookie mistake, leaning across his back to grab her lotion bottle allowing her breasts to run along his body. She said nothing as his wings fluttered and he slightly shivered. She just continued her work.

Azriel was a piece of art, she had decided. His body reminded her of expertly carved marble. Hard muscled cuts from years of training, but they yielded so easily to her touch. Small twitches began to happen as she hit his mid back just below his wings.

Her eyes flicked to where he gripped the soft sheets of the bed as she pulled a heated blanket over his lower half. "Is it too warm?" She knew the scars on his hands all too well, she was hiding her own that danced along her back.

"No, just everything feels really good." His reply was soft, but raspy and deep. She smiled softly as she continued her work, gently going around the lower base of his wings without realizing the stimulation she was causing him.

Azriel was biting his fist under the table as pleasure shot straight to his cock. His body was so relaxed and everything felt intensified. He had been craving touch like this for years now. Soft, gentle, slow. She was taking her time on his back, working out every ounce of tension, every knotted muscle, every single drop of pain he had. His body hadn't felt this good in years, and he hadn't felt relief like this since his last trip to the brothel.

Her hands were heaven on his skin. They were warm and smooth, grazing him with her nails occasionally. She smelled like heaven, too. The soft scent of apples and salted caramel. He could drown in her scent alone if she allowed him to.

He felt the groan slip his throat as she moved to be in front of him and began to work between his wings. "Tell me if you want me to stop. I don't want to hurt you."

Azriel realized slowly he was drowning. This female was about to reduce him to a puddle with the touch of her hands and that alone. He pushed the feeling down. Doing her job, a shadow reminded him.

She worked in silence, noting his soft gasps, whimpers, and moans as she worked the center of his back and sides of both wings. She was finally at the base of his shoulder blades when Azriel's resolve dropped. His hands came to rest on the backs of her thighs, squeezing the plush skin there every so often as she worked the tops of where his wings connected in.

A rough grasp on her thighs as she accidently brushed the ridge of his wing had her gasping slightly, nails digging into his back, making him growl in pleasure. "I'm sorry," she whispered again and tried to back away, only to find herself locked by his large hands.

"That was my fault," he was smirking and pulled her closer. "Please keep going. I'll behave." Lyria bit her lip, her nervous tick he noted, nodding as she went back to work.

She was focusing on working the muscle tension near his wings. She was hoping he'd be able to ignore his pleasure, but as his breathing picked up, his wings twitched, and he moaned for her more, she knew. Lyria knew what was about to happen, but anytime her hands slowed, he gripped her thighs tighter as if begging her to continue.

He was on the edge at this point. He could feel a peak of pleasure within reach as she began working his shoulders and neck. Azriel was trying to hold it in as the pleasure built, but Lyria sealed his fate.

She did a single long stroke, starting between his wings, up his neck, and gently tugged his hair.

It was his undoing as he moaned out loudly, his grip on her thighs moving so he was cupping her ass and digging his fingers into her. His body was slightly shaking, as she scratched his head and played with his hair through his high.

Lyria had her lip between her teeth again. Trying to hide the feminine smile at her ability to bring one of the deadliest males in History to completion with no more than the touch of her hand.

She moved to sit next to Azriel, dropping his right arm over her thighs as she sat next to him, continuing to massage his scalp as he finished coming down, breathing coming back to normal. Once he turned his head to her, she just smiled.

"I know a few places in Autumn you could get help with that problem," she offered gently. "Eris runs a very clean, respectable one. They have males and females. All there by choice because they like to fuck."

Azriel chuckled. "That obvious, huh?" He looked at her. Enjoying the slight flush of her cheeks as her amber eyes met his hazel ones.

"I don't normally have people finish on my table, so we're going to chalk it up to you had a lot of tension to release." She paused, hand still playing with his hair before handing him a towel. "I noticed it building as I was working in your wing bases, but you didn't ask me to stop, and if I tried to, you squeezed my thighs to prevent me from moving. Rhys just said the wings themselves were sensitive. I didn't realize it was that whole area. I am sorry if I've made you feel violated."

He took the towel, cleaning himself and the table as she looked away. He tossed it into her nearby hamper and laid back down. A shadow grabbed her hair and placed it back into his hair.

"He probably did that on purpose. Fucking asshole. I owe you dinner," he finally said. "I'd like to do this again. Hopefully without that happening. I'm hoping that was a one time thing."

Lyria nodded. "We can do the same time next week with dinner beforehand?" He nodded at her, sitting up and studying her face again. "Also, I don't mind if that happens again." She was blushing and tucked her hair behind a delicately pointed ear. "Maybe in different circumstances though."

Azriel smirked, hand reaching to gently pull at her hair, "That could be rearranged."

#acotar x reader #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #azriel acotar

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