#but for me actually no thoughts head empty is terrifying

[mqriuss]

04 | Now playing: Good Girls

from 'bad girls that haven't been caught' series

note: do i like this or not i dont know anymore guys

playlist | series masterlist

rindou likes you.

even ran has started to notice it. this guy is literally going to school everyday just to see you and teach you basketball after school. and the more he attended school, the more he learned about you.

he learns that you're not actually a loner and you have a few friends from different classes that you hang out with during lunch, and the first years think you're more reliable than the entitled student council president.

also, you were so good at english that nakajima sensei gets you to help her check homework answers for fun? and you just casually speak three other languages. crazy. now he just likes you even more.

all this time, rindou also thought you were the type to snitch and remind the teacher they assigned some homework, but you've never done anything of the sort. in fact, it was always fumio doing that kind of stuff. so most of his classmates have more to say about fumio than you.

"fumio's the teacher's pet, y/n's just a smartass," they'd say, in a nutshell at least.

another thing rindou finds out about you is that you've never been a part of any club in school. you just join a random one each week, which is why you're pretty good at everything—swimming, archery, chess, football, volleyball, sewing—the list is endless, but basketball will never be on it.

speaking of basketball, you stopped getting lessons from rindou after ten days. "why do you wanna stop? getting a bit too challenging for ya?" he teased you that day.

"i'm getting bored of it, and i need to focus on studying more," you told him, and your reason made sense. mid-term exams were approaching after all, but you were nowhere to be seen during free periods.

now imagine the terrified faces of the poor girls from class 2-B when rindou came barging in to the home economics club, no tie, first few buttons undone, hands in his pockets, and chewing on an empty candy stick.

"where's y/n?" he asks, unaware that he was practically glaring at them.

"w- we don't know..." one of the girls stammers, gripping onto her friend's hand under the table.

"i know you know. you're her friends, aren't you?"

"the library!" the other girl exclaims, and her friend tries to stop her but she shakes her head vigorously—as if warning her to just stay quiet. "y/n is always at the library any chance she gets when exams are coming up. i suggest you don't bother her while she's studying," she informs him and panics when she sees his eyebrow twitch upwards. "i- i mean, i'm sure she'll understand if it's an urgent matter!"

"please don't kill us!" the other girl chimes in and her friend's eyes widen at her.

rindou makes a puzzled expression, "why would i do that?" he mutters before turning around on his heel. "anyway, thanks for letting me know. see ya." with a lazy wave, he walks out of the classroom and the girls let out a breath they didn't realize they've been holding.

"what does he want with y/n?"

"i don't know, i hope she'll be okay!"

when rindou steps in to the library, he's immediately greeted with a "shhh" from the librarian, making him freeze in his spot. he glances at her before taking another step- "shhh," she shushes him again with a glare and finger over her lips.

"i was just-"

"shhh."

rindou squints, his lips part as he glances around as if there were invisible cameras filming him. he scratches his head, moving on to find you in the maze of this library.

he swears he's passed by every table they had, but you weren't there. even your belongings weren't laying around anywhere.

"excuse me-"

"shhh."

rindou closes his eyes shut, inhaling deeply before exhaling a long breath. "y/n, i'm looking for y/n," he whispers.

"oh, she's in here," the librarian talks for the first time, and rindou deadpans upon hearing her voice. it's loud. almost earsplitting, even.

"um, i don't see her anywhere?" rindou glances around and the librarian shrugs, taking her glasses off to wipe them.

"she came here and hasn't walked out."

"you talk really loud for a-"

"shhh."

rindou sighs and goes venturing back into the library. this time, he weaves through the aisles, and he finally finds you. and honestly, he was expecting you to be sat on the floor with a textbook on your lap.

but what the hell were you doing standing around with hayashi fumio?

you lock eyes with rindou and waste no time dragging him away, completely leaving fumio behind with a dumbfounded expression.

"what the-"

"don't tell anyone," you firmly tell him, but you remained calm.

rindou blinks at you, putting two and two together. "you and fumio..." he trails off, sounding unsure of himself.

"we're dating," you say with a nod, and rindou's mind flashes back to that day fumio and the basketball team walked in on you guys using the indoor court. "you better not tell a soul."

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[writingmyheartsout]

Nobody's Soldier - a Bucky Barnes story.

(chapter 2)

_____________

first of all i have to apologize for not updating all these past months, me head wasn't in the right headspace to do that as intrusive thoughts kept telling me this was bad.

second, i literally rewrote the whole chapter, because i wasn't feeling it anymore as I used to be, it's still very much angsty but I had the feeling I was going a lil too much OOC (but you'll tell me that if it still are)

third and last, imposter syndrome at its best...

i'm truly sorry for made you wait this long

_____________

This fic is also on wattpad and soon on Ao3

Nobody's Soldier playlist on Spotify

CW: talking about trauma, PTSD, nightmares, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning himself), trauma, unexpected feelings, obsession, anxiety, denial, mention of manipulation, slight mention of sa, crying, desperation, unhealthy attachment, limerence, fighting over unrequited feelings, reader has female pronous.

(chapter is 8k words more or less)

chapter 1 is here

_____________

Ch. 2 - Popular monster

Bucky kept checking on his phone, expecting a text from you, an update, anything that would let him know you were ok. But the phone remained silent.

It took you a while to gather the will to leave your bed and eat something, but as soon as you stepped out of the bedroom and looked around the living room, you nearly cried again.

The tv sat there, broken and half torn apart, as a reminder that what happened was all too real.

Your first instinct was to go back to bed and cry until you passed out, but your brain thought otherwise as your body moved on its own. You began picking up random items all over the room and throwing them into large black garbage bags, tv included.

This behaviour wasn’t new or unexpected; you often reacted this way when you were nearing your breaking point, and right now, you were very close to it.

After spending part of the day and night back and forth from your apartment to the dumpster, you finally began to feel exhausted again, your mind finally empty.

But the moment your head hit the pillow, the screen of your phone lit up with a notification. 

It was Bucky

Bucky cursed at himself with every word he knew as thoughts slowly began to swirl inside his mind. The clock continued ticking, and the phone lay untouched on the table in front of him.

Should he message you? Would you even want him to? When exactly had he started to care? He pondered these questions as he picked it up once again, debating whether to send you something or not.

But before he could process it all, his fingers acted on their own, opening the chat and typing something, much to his dismay. 

-From Bucky: Hey... are you okay?

You probably stared at the preview of his text longer than you'd like to admit, resisting the urge to open it while still grappling with disbelief that he had actually done such a thing.

On the other hand, you didn't want to give him the wrong message, especially since you suspected he had feelings for you.

Yet, the growing sense of relief settling in the pit of your stomach was unmistakable, and you realized something so simple yet so terrifying.

You cared about him. A lot actually.

Bucky's heart raced in his chest as he stared at the chat, waiting for your response. He felt a wild range of emotions, going from a sense of guilt to utter shame.

Shame for not being able to control his growing feelings or for pushing you to the brink of an episode. Still, he couldn't shake the fact that deep down, he knew you were right. That he shouldn't feel this way...and yet, he did.

But all he needed at that moment was to know you were okay.

However, you didn't answer him. Sure, you were about to, more out of habit than anything else, but you were still very much in shock. The thought that the situation was utterly crazy wouldn’t leave your mind.

Nonetheless, you had to stop this, whatever this was, from spiralling into something you couldn't control.

You didn't sleep much after that. By the time you crawled back into bed, it was already early morning, so you decided to resume reading.

Maybe this would help to distract you for a while, you thought. But as soon as you went to pick up a book, memories flooded your mind.

You remembered that time when Bucky called you after a nightmare and how you helped him calm down by reading him your favourite story.

This whole situation felt like torture, and the strangest part was that you couldn't stop thinking about how, with just a simple hug, he had made you feel better than you had in years.

On the other hand, Bucky felt a sense of despair welling up in his chest when no answer came, as anxiety gnawed at him.

You were the one suffering the consequences, and he was the only one to blame. A frustrated huff escaped his lips as he ran his metal hand through his hair, then collapsed onto the couch with a loud groan.

Thoughts flooded his mind, too many to be healthy. In an act of desperation, he unlocked his phone again, texting you... again.

-From Bucky: Please... say something.

You eventually fell asleep, your reading glasses on and the book resting on your chest. When you woke up later that day, your phone screen was lit with yet another text.

...say something... the message read, simple as that, making you feel guilty for not responding earlier. You knew you didn't have to reply, but you couldn’t help but think that maybe you were exaggerating the whole situation. Perhaps it was just a slip-up and nothing more.

But another part of you, the rational side, kept reminding you that this was how everything had started.

The manipulation, the controlling habits, the abuse. It all started with someone developing feelings right when you were at your weakest.

You couldn't do this anymore, not when you had worked so hard to get to where you were now.

You chose not to answer again, confident that somehow he would get over it.

Bucky's mind raced as he stared at his phone, willing a reply to appear on the screen.

All he wanted, was some sort of sign, anything that let him know you were okay. That you weren't as mad at him, at least not completely. That you still felt comfortable enough to talk with him.

But when hours passed and you hadn't answered, his heart sank as more thoughts started to creep in.

The realization that he had lost you overwhelmed him, leaving him feeling numb.

His eyes started to prick with tears as he cursed himself for letting his emotions get the best of him. He couldn't wallow in despair, not over you, not over someone he barely knew.

But someone who seemed to understand him.

No, he couldn’t go there. He had to distract himself and focus on something else.

So, with a deep breath, he stood up and turned on the tv, trying to fill the silence of his apartment, which had become too loud for him in that moment

After that incident, nearly three weeks passed. You returned to your usual safe routine, but it felt like something was wrong, like something was clearly missing.

Then one morning, just after breakfast, your phone rang and Dr. Raynor's number appeared on the screen.

It was strange, she had never called you before. When you answered and she asked where Bucky was, you felt confused.

It turned out he had stopped showing up for his therapy sessions without saying a word. She had tried to reach out to him, but he didn't pick up.

He was alive, that much she knew, yet you could clearly hear the concern in her voice.

After you explained what had happened between the two of you, how he had come over and the incident that followed, she added something that left you stunned and altered the perception you had of him up to that point.

His whole history, the abuse, the manipulation, who he was and the... arm.

“The arm?” you curiously asked, not quite getting what she meant.

“He has a prosthetic arm, a vibranium one...” the doctor began to explain, her tone careful “...although it's not the same as the one he had, it's a harsh reminder of what happened to him and what he did.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t mention this sooner, but it’s already complicated as it is,” she added.

At her words, the pieces started to fall into place. His behaviour, the way he addressed you, how he looked around the apartment as soon as he walked in and the… gloves he hadn’t taken off that day.

Another hour passed as Dr. Raynor continued to explain that Bucky still saw himself as some kind of monster, an experiment and how losing himself for so long had inevitably changed him. It only made sense that once the call was over, you texted him without thinking twice.

You were worried and maybe a little furious.

-to Bucky: your doctor called me. Why did you stop therapy? You know you have to go.

Then you quickly added a second one.

-to Bucky: she also gave me the whole story, your story I mean.

Bucky was laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to get himself to relax enough to sleep. He had been feeling exceptionally crappy, for lack of a better word, having spent the whole night awake when his phone went off.

His mind was in a constant battle, and all he wanted was some peace and quiet. So when he lazily picked up his phone to check and saw your name, the first thing he felt was relief.  

However, as he eagerly sat up, he almost dropped the phone when he read your texts, his heart nearly stopping.

The doctor told you everything... Those words echoed in his head as his thoughts spiralled out of control.

He had been lying to you for the most part. He hadn't meant to keep things from you, but deep down, he knew you would see him differently from now on. You would look at him with pity, unable to see him as a person anymore, but rather as... a monster.

He desperately wanted to text you back, but he felt stuck, unsure of what to say or do.

So he just lay on his bed for the next half hour, his phone still clutched in his fingers as he tried to come up with something that wouldn’t push you away again.

All he needed was to see you, but he was terrified of how you would react now that you knew about his secret.

Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes stretched into hours as anxiety began to eat him alive, until he finally pressed send.

-from Bucky:..It’s complicated... can we talk tomorrow? I’ll come over.

You didn't expect a fast reply, hell you didn’t expect a reply at all.

So when he texted back after hours of leaving you on read, the content of his message startled you.

 ...I’ll come over... The words ran through your mind, almost triggering your panic as you tried to come up with a polite reply. 

You knew you had to start somewhere, but you felt torn.

You were caught between wanting to give him a chance to explain and the absolute fear that something worse might happen if you saw him again.

-to Bucky: we'll see about that..but you can call me, we can still talk…if you want.

You suggested instead, thinking it would be better for both of you, at least for now.

Bucky stared at your words for a long minute, a small smile grazed his lips while his heart did a weird flip in his chest.

You hadn’t said a definitive no to his request, you were still willing to talk to him. But those words, that we'll see about that lingered in his mind, giving him a glimmer of hope while leaving a bitter taste on his tongue.

As he fought the growing urge to call you right then and there, he decided to send a message first.

-from Bucky: I’ll call you in ten, alright?

He sent the text and hastily placed his phone on the bedside table, letting out a shaky breath.

If you agreed, there was a good chance he would get to hear your voice, something he hadn’t realized how he missed so much until now.

For a long moment, after his last reply, you stared at the short message almost as if it were some kind of riddle waiting to be solved. A smile crept onto your face at his eagerness without you even noticing it.

What the fuck were you doing? Why were you smiling? You chided yourself, shaking your head in confusion as you tried to suppress the knot forming in your stomach.

With ten more minutes until the phone call, you thought distracting yourself would be a good idea, more to calm your nerves than anything else.

Instead, Bucky's call came a few minutes early, and you didn’t pick up, your phone lay on the bed while you were in the next room.

Bucky had to resist the urge to call you again immediately after he sent the text.

His mind wouldn’t quiet down, racing with thoughts about a million things. About hearing your voice again, the possibility that maybe you weren't as mad at him as he thought, and how nervous he suddenly felt.

And the ten minutes felt like an eternity. 

He tried to keep himself busy and away from the phone, but as soon as the ten minutes were up, he found himself with his phone in hand, calling you... only to be sent to voicemail.

He was not panicking, absolutely not.

His thoughts immediately spiralled into worst-case scenarios. maybe you had changed your mind or maybe calling you was indeed a mistake.

But he tried to push those feelings aside, convincing himself that you were probably just busy.

And while those thoughts filled his mind, he found himself in the middle of his fourth time re-dialling your number. The ringing sound the only thing echoing in the room.

On the other hand, you had lost track of time while focusing on cleaning the apartment, a standard behaviour when you were unable to concentrate and something clearly upset you.

When you finally checked your phone, you nearly dropped it upon seeing five missed calls.

"Damn it Bucky, you wasted no time," you mumbled with a sigh.

That alone should have served as a warning sign, but you ignored it completely. Thinking nothing of it, you called him as you sat down on your bed, waiting for him to pick up.

Bucky was startled when his phone suddenly rang. His eyes fixed on the screen as your name appeared, causing his heart to leap into his throat and almost miss the call.

When he finally answered, a shuddering breath escaped his lips before he said anything.

"Hey," he said quietly, a nervous smile tugging at his lips while anxiety fluttered in the pit of his stomach, waiting for an answer… craving it even.

His soft exhale, the hushed hello and his gentle tone caught you off guard, making your cheeks blush slightly.

It had been long since you heard his voice you thought, still reluctant to admit you missed him…in a way. 

"Eager much..?" you joked, attempting to break the awkward silence between you and hide your distress.

"How are you?.." you added then, genuinely asking. It had been weeks since his last therapy session after all, and even though you both had a setback, you wanted to check on him, making sure he was okay.

Bucky chuckled lightly at your words, the small smile on his face widening slightly.

"Sorry for the multiple calls. You didn't answer so I was..." panicking the hell out. He almost confessed, then he cleared his throat and continued, not particularly keen on discussing how worried he had been up to that moment.

"M'fine, mostly. How have you been?"  he asked instead, quickly dismissing your question, trying to stay calm and hoping you wouldn't notice how strained his voice really was.

"You don't have to justify your worry, y'know?" you said honestly, understanding where his words were headed. Then he lied, probably out of habit.

"And…I know you're not, if you were, why did your doctor call me this morning?." you stated, your tone soft yet firm, not wanting him to feel at fault. 

Meanwhile, if you had to be completely honest, he didn't seem that dangerous. Maybe a little eager, but not a total red flag.

Bucky's breath hitched the moment you called him out, and he cursed himself for it.

Of course you’d noticed, he should have expected you to be more observant than most people.

"Right.." he said, running a hand through his hair, letting out a tired sigh as he did so.

"The good doctor called you, huh?” he asked ironically, unable to hold back a bitter remark. 

"C'mon she's not that bad" you playfully replied, still sitting on the bed as a light huff left your lips.

“She’s just worried…” you added, your tone gentle yet firm “...and to be honest, I am too”

Bucky let out a small chuckle as you teased him about his doctor, rolling his eyes even though you couldn't see him. But then you said more, catching him off guard.

Were you worried? Did that mean you probably cared? Right? 

He immediately shook that thought away, it wasn’t the right time, not now, though those words kept lingering in his head.

“You? Worried? About me?..” he asked, genuinely baffled by your comment as a slight frown crossed his face.

"Yeah, Bucky...y'know like a normal human being would.." you bit back, not really annoyed, at least not that much, as it wasn't entirely his fault...or so you thought.

"There is so much going on lately, like being affected by someone trying to help you?” you stated honestly, not wanting to scold him but rather hoping to settle things.

“Maybe we can talk about that? " 

From honest discussions to fights, you had learned not to shy away from confrontation anymore. It was something you picked up in therapy. Now, when a problem presented itself, you just went straight to the point, only to find out that most people couldn't handle a simple conversation.

Bucky's heart picked up once again when you hinted at his behaviour, and he honestly had no idea how to deal with it.

You really didn't hold back, did you, sweetheart? he thought, nervously running his metal fingers through his hair as he tried to come up with a decent answer.

Finally, he let out a weary exhale before speaking again.

"It's not that simple. But yeah, we can talk about it..." he said quietly, as the weight of shame settled back in.

After his answer, after sensing his evident reluctance, you couldn't help but feel a little guilty about your words. However, it was no use dwelling on it.

"No? Then talk to me. Believe it or not, I'm not mad at you" you urged him, your voice still gentle.

What you were trying to do was reassure him and help if possible, even if it meant confronting an uncomfortable truth.

“I've been there before, I know how it seems… " you added, showing him that you understood what he was going through. 

You? So you weren’t mad at him. Why? You should have been, it's what he deserved. 

Bucky was speechless for a moment longer as your words sank in. He had made you uncomfortable and pressured you, this was his fault.

His throat felt constricted, and he had to swallow once, then twice, before he could answer.

"Y'mean, someone... had feelings for you? In therapy?" he found himself asking instead, unnerved by the thought of someone becoming obsessed with you, knowing deep down he was doing the same.

You should have seen that coming, still, yet it still took you by surprise.

"It's.. it's one the reasons I'm still dealing with the program, Bucky..." you replied, your tone growing quiet.

You understood that, as your therapy partner or former one, he should have been informed about the situation. Still, it was hard to articulate.

"It was straight-up manipulation, as my doctor put it. This other person, he..well...he… he used me" you tried, but the words wouldn't come out. Staring into nothing, you felt too scared of another episode happening. Taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself as you felt panic building inside you.

"I honestly thought it was real, I thought it was love…” you added, your voice barely above a whisper by the end.

Bucky felt his heart sink the moment you began to explain. Those words were all too familiar, and they hurt him as guilt washed over him again. 

"I'm sorry for what happened to you...."  he only said, his jaw clenching as he spoke, yet his voice sounded almost gentle.

He wanted to say much more; he wanted to express how much he hated himself for nearly doing the same to you. But the words got stuck in his throat, leaving him feeling like a coward.

I'm sorry I did that to you, he thought, as guilt consumed his mind.

"You... you know I would never do anything like that to you, right?" he asked carefully, trying to change the subject while feeling nervous about a possible backlash.

At his words, you let out a light scoff, noticing how tense his voice had suddenly become.

"No shit, Buck..." you joked after a moment “.. I would hope so” you added quietly, shaking your head in disbelief, hoping it was true.

For Christ's sake, you even found him attractive, you thought, as a small smile tugged at your lips. 

"But I'm at fault too, I should have thought better than to hug you like I did, no matter how bad I was feeling..." you stated, genuinely believing it was your fault as well.

"It gives off the wrong idea...most of the time”

After everything that had happened, you blamed yourself? Thinking you caused all this? He thought, staring at the floor as he processed your words in his head, feeling even worse.

Good job, Bucky. Really great job. he chided himself silently.

"You... didn’t know where you were. You had a panic attack..." he said, hating the idea of you taking responsibility for something like that. He knew damn well you weren’t in control of your actions during an episode. He had been there before, more times than he could possibly count.

"I'm the one at fault... not you," he said firmly, remorse coursing through him with every word he spoke.

"Bucky...I.. " you started to say, feeling the need to try and justify yourself once more."... I was just grounding myself " you confessed, falling back onto the bed with a frustrated groan as you ran a hand over your face. 

"Still, I...I got you what? Obsessed? Addicted? Whatever this is..." you added, not really asking any actual questions but rather stating a fact."... surely something went wrong here”

Bucky’s thoughts momentarily halted as you spoke. 

"No!... no, no, no. You didn't do anything." He shot back, his voice laced with disbelief at how much you were taking the brunt of his mistakes.…"..you didn't ask me to feel this way, sweetheart. I did it myself, it’s on me.”

He hesitated, mentally scolding himself for letting that term slip out so easily. Yet, he felt compelled to make sure you understood that none of this was your fault, that you were innocent and he wasn't. You were simply trying to be kind, nothing more

"Do you really think you're responsible?” he honestly asked again.

"Well...yeah?..." you replied, your voice uncertain. That little name didn’t go unnoticed, leaving you taken aback as your cheeks dusted pink instinctively. "...I mean, my first therapy partner thought I led him so..." you added quietly.

And it was the truth. In the very early stages of the program, before Bucky was involved and before you were even paired with anyone, you met a lot of people.

Most of them complete idiots.

"It's one of the reasons why I flinch when someone suddenly touches me when I'm not myself.." you confessed, feeling a wave of shame rise within you. "...that's why I reach out and hold onto whatever I can find most of the time”

Bucky's heart tightened uncomfortably as you referred to the people you had met before him.

Led him on? Seriously? Why was your first partner such a jerk? Did he even have any issues? he thought, listening to your explanation.

Bucky felt horrible. He was already upset about his slight obsession and how he had made you uncomfortable, but now,  hearing you open up about your past and how others had treated you, he felt even worse.

He was no better than all of them.

"Then... why did you hug me?” he asked simply, letting out a deep sigh as his tone grew quieter, almost apologetic.

"Because you were there and felt safe..." you blurted out without much thinking, your gaze fixed on the ceiling.

“ And I... I was weak.." you added, feeling embarrassed to admit the truth as you tried to find a rational explanation for your behaviour.

But then, you remembered how terrified you had been right after when irrational fear took over.

Bucky's heart fluttered at that. Did you feel safe with him? Could he calm you down? You trusted him? The realization took him off guard as his brain processed the information.

He had to take another deep breath to steady his heartbeat while a small smile appeared on his face.

But then he remembered your reaction afterwards and that same smile faded, making him want to scream in frustration.

"I felt safe?..." he asked, more to himself than to you, almost as if he couldn’t believe it. But you were on the other end of the line and heard anyway…

"But you? You flinched away..” he added, trying to make sense out of your words.

"That's how irrational fears work usually.." you said bluntly, letting out a heavy sigh.

"Trusting you as a person? Yes absolutely, I could do that..." you tried to reassure him, hearing silence on the other end.

"But as a man? it's a little more complicated, to put it simply” you explained, trying to make it as clear as possible and leaving no space for misunderstanding.

If that meant you wouldn’t hear from Bucky anymore, so be it.

“I still don't know if you want something out of me..or not" you added quietly. 

But those words stung him more than he would like to admit, though he wasn’t surprised. No, he clearly understood your point; still, it hurt to hear you say that, even if he was the one at fault.

He ran a hand through his hair again and swallowed hard as you continued, feeling as though he was being accused.

You knew him well already, because your words hit the mark as you called him out once again. An irrational anger welled up inside him, and he swallowed hard. 

He didn’t want you to be scared of him, after all, he needed you. You were the only one, after so many years, who finally understood him and made him feel calm.

"Why would you even think I want anything from you?” he said, a slight edge creeping into his voice, his tone turning unexpectedly cold.

The change in tone genuinely frightened you. You hadn’t seen it coming.

"With the way you got so obsessed, so quickly...” you started, trying to keep yourself as calm as possible, relieved there was a phone between you both.

“Or... how you already sound pissed,  even after I’ve tried to reason with you..." you continued, sitting back up at the edge of the bed.

This whole situation started to scare you more than it should. You just wanted to live your life peacefully, nothing more, nothing less.

"I'm sorry Buck but...I don't.." you added, fear and guilt plaguing your mind at this point, wanting nothing more than to put an end to this conversation already. “...I don't think we should speak again, not until you work on these issues by yourself…”

Bucky felt like someone had stabbed him right in his chest with a rusted knife. All the guilt and shame he felt earlier were soon replaced by anger.

You? Wanted to stop talking? Cut all contact? What about him then? What would be of him without your soothing voice? he thought. He couldn’t do that, not now, not ever.

"We're not doing that.” he snapped. The very thought of never hearing your voice again, not talking to you, triggered something deep inside him.  His heart was racing in his chest as he spoke through clenched teeth.

When he spoke again, his tone had grown slightly more threatening, and that's when you reacted. Although calm and collected most of the time, there were times, usually when someone crossed a line or something felt off, that another side of you came out.

"You don’t realize it, do you? Even now? You’re so desperate to be accepted that you can’t see how you're behaving?..." you said, your voice raising a little as your tone sharpened.

"Can’t you see how your little addiction is clouding your mind? It’s really a simple concept to understand..." you continued, frustration edging into your voice.

"Having feelings for someone doesn't mean forcing that obsession on them. And here I thought you were smart, but clearly, I was wrong.”

Bucky was taken aback by your sudden outburst. You spoke with passion and determination, far from the calm and gentle demeanour you usually showed him, and your words stung.

However, they also made a few pieces click into place. You were right, you had been from the very beginning. 

But that realization only infuriated him even more.

"How dare you judge me? You're no better than I am.” he retorted, his voice rising with each word that left his mouth, still reeling from a mix of anger and blame.

"You have irrational fears and trauma just like I do. Don't you dare pretend that I'm the bad guy here."

Deep down, he knew he was taking out his anger on you, even though you didn't deserve it. But it felt like he couldn't stop, his mind tangled in a haze of angry thoughts. Above all, he was terrified of losing you.

You might have laughed when he snapped back, if the situation hadn't been so tense and if you weren't feeling so scared. But that didn't mean you had nothing to say in return. After all, it wasn’t the first time someone had used your situation to hurt you.

"Really? I’m judging you now? " you repeated in disbelief, scoffing slightly as you didn’t quite believe what you just heard.

"I never said I was better than anyone, not even you. I know my problems, but at least I can manage my own feelings.." you added, not even bothering to defend yourself against his accusations.

"So how dare you speak to me like that …”

Your words only turned his anger into desperation, and Bucky stopped making sense. You were taunting him, teasing him, mocking him even and he knew It was only his fault. Unfortunately, even if he understood, that realization did nothing to ease his feelings in that moment.

"You really have no idea how you affect me? How you make me feel?" he spat out, guilt overwhelming him along with hurt.

"Why do you think I became obsessed in the first place, huh?” he added, taking a deep breath and trying to calm his racing mind, his body tense with emotions.

"And now you're telling me you don’t want to speak with me anymore? Just banishing me like that, without a second thought?"

He could attend all the therapy sessions possible, and it wouldn’t change a damn thing. How you made him feel, how you made him laugh, smile, and long for more.

And that was the one truth that terrified him the most.

"You really think I can stay away from you?" he suddenly asked, his voice both distressed and unsteady, almost on the verge of tears.

The pain in his last words made you pause for a moment as remorse began to creep in.

Was he truly hurting that bad? Did he really not do it on purpose?

"Then tell me.." you started, your tone softening as you sought a way out of this pointless fight. 

"If I have no clue as you said, talk to me…… let me understand,” you added, trying once again to reason with him, hoping it would be the last time.

But even now, your first instinct was to distance yourself from him as much as possible. You thought you understood, but you were still very much afraid, unable to shake the feeling that this situation would only worsen.

Bucky felt his jaw clench as you asked him why. He didn’t know how to answer, his mind was working against him, and the right words eluded him.

He knew he was going too far, but it felt impossible to stop. The prospect of rejection and blame weighed heavily on him.

"What about…” he started “...what about the fact that just hearing your voice drives me crazy? That, the more I talk to you, the more I want you? ” he confessed, his voice quiet yet edged with emotions as his heart ached.

“I'm… I’m obsessed with you, happy now?”

He was obsessed, and he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t change the fact that he was feeling something he hadn’t felt in years. And if this was what obsession felt like, then so be it.

"The problem is wanting to control me, Bucky..." you retorted “...the problem is shoving all your sudden feelings onto me”

“The problem is making me feel guilty" you went on, your voice growing serious, sounding angrier than you intended.

At that you stood up, nervously pacing up and down the room, your jaw clenching as you tried to keep the anger down.

"I should be yours no matter what, that’s what you’re saying? Just because you are hooked on my voice?" you bit back, almost as if you were accusing him, stopping in your tracks as a frustrated sigh left your mouth.

Bucky hated the way you described his feelings. But the more you talked the more he realized, for real this time, how he was acting. How he let his desperation, his fears control him as soon as you said you didn’t want to speak with him anymore, that you wanted to stay away.

You were being reasonable, he was the one who started acting crazy.

"I wasn't trying to control your actions, doll. I just..." he only said then, stopping only to better collect his thoughts as the little nickname slipped out his lips without realizing it.

"I need you. You have no idea how calming you are for me, how I find myself craving to hear your voice..." he continued, speaking in a low frustrated tone, his anger now mingled with his inner desperation as he felt his eyes starting to sting.

"You're the first person that understands, how do you expect me to stop needing you?”

"This is not the right way to do it, clearly.." you replied, still slightly pissed at his stubbornness, but noticing how he was starting to calm down. 

"The thing is, emotions are never wrong, you just learn to manage them..." you went on while now pacing back and forth in the living room. 

Still, you felt stressed, on edge even as the whole discussion brought up some unresolved issues that you completely forgot about. You could only hope that it wouldn’t bring up a panic attack as well. 

"When you have feelings for anyone, or supposed to have..." you started, mostly annoyed now "..you don't need them, to the point of feeling sick"

Then you stopped for a moment, sighing heavily and closing your eyes, your fingers went to pinch at the bridge of your nose as you tried to think about what you were about to say.

"Jesus, I can't believe I'm explaining this.." you huffed then, calming down your nerves.

"When you feel something, you want to spend more time with them” you then started explaining, hoping it would break down into his stubbornness. 

”Needing someone is a coping mechanism.." as your voice wavered a little “...you know what a coping mechanism is, right? " 

Bucky clenched his jaw even more when you spoke. He did, in fact, know what a coping mechanism was. 

He also knew that you were absolutely right with what you were saying.

His obsession, was a coping mechanism, an unhealthy one. He had gotten obsessed with you because you were the first person that made him feel something good, so he latched onto it, not wanting to let go. 

He felt a pang of guilt in his chest.

"I know what a coping mechanism is..." he muttered through gritted teeth.

"But I didn’t do it on purpose. I just couldn’t help it. You make me feel calm, you make me forget about everything. You make me want to try again."

Now the hint of anger, the bite he had in his tone had disappeared almost completely, replaced with pure panic.

"How am I supposed to deal with that, huh? You feel so so good to me.”

Hearing the change in Bucky's voice made you stop suddenly as your heart clenched at the fear now evident in his tone. You felt bad with the way you were speaking to him but at the same time you didn't, given the fact that, maybe, you were able to knock some sense into him.  

"That's why I.." you started, voice now more gentle than before "... I told you we should be apart for a while"

It wasn't ideal, not even for you since you were at fault too here. With the way you acted when you hugged him or with how dangerously comfortable you were getting with him.

Feeling so calm and safe with someone you barely know shouldn't be happening. You reminded yourself more than once.

"If I'm the trigger here, you should understand how much of your feelings are real and..." you stopped for a fraction, realization dawning on you as well.."...and how much is just an unhealthy obsession.."

If you were just a means to an end in this absurd scenario, just something to help him cope with, then you don't want to be. You wanted to be seen, for yourself, as a person.

Bucky's heart was beating faster in his chest, your words, your reasoning filled his mind and he found himself agreeing with that. Still, despair and guilt filled his heart as the sole thought of not hearing from you anymore felt so wrong to him.

"You're not a trigger..." he protested, weakly so as his voice wavered slightly.

But you were once more right. What he was feeling towards you wasn't normal, wasn't right. He was obsessed with you because you made him feel calm at a time when he was at his lowest.

"I want you..." he mumbled, his voice lacking the greedy, possessive edge he had before.

"I don't want to lose you…please” he pleaded with you, desperate to make you agree to stay, at least, in touch.

"I'll do anything. I'll work on myself, find a way to deal with this obsession." he insisted, absolutely hating using that word, even if it was the truth.

"Please, don't cut me off. I'll lose my mind if you do.”

You exhaled deeply, moving to sit on the couch and taking the phone with you. He was doing it again, begging you. But again, it was just the addiction talking.

"Then what, Bucky?.." you asked then, after a long moment, exhaling deeply as you closed your eyes..."... every time you need a fix, you call me?.." 

You know you didn't have to be so harsh right now, but you truly wanted him to realize how deep he was in this and how bad it was affecting him.  

"It's the addiction talking here.." you added as another deep sigh left your lips...

"You're not even asking yourself if I feel something for you..." you stated as your stomach churned the more the anxiety grew…

"You only see what I can do for you..."

Guess you weren't that lucky. But with the history you had, that didn’t surprise you much. Maybe it was really your fault. Maybe you really led them on. Maybe they got obsessed because you did something.

You really don’t know, but everytime you tried your best and this time you truly believed he could have been the right therapy partner for you.

That was a low blow, but Bucky knew you were right.

He really hadn’t even thought about the possibility that you might not feel something for him, that he was hurting you by acting like this.

He had been selfish… no, he had been damn greedy. He was using you as his own personal drug, his only way to feel better.

He wanted to protest, to fight back, but he couldn’t.

"That’s not true..." he muttered, his voice even more laced with guilt and desperation now.

He wanted to tell you that he actually cared for you, that it wasn’t just about what you could do for him. He wanted to tell you that he saw you as a person, not just as a way to feel less alone but he couldn’t.

Because he had been treating you like an object, like a goddamn cure for his loneliness, he was using you exactly like others did. 

And the worst thing was that, deep down, he knew what that felt like and that made him feel even more horrible.

"I thought I was doing the right thing..." He protested weakly, still trying to convince you, still trying to bargain his place in your life.

"I'm not..." you started, stopping mid-sentence soon after to recollect your thoughts, trying to find the right words.

But his words, his final candid confession, his regret, all this made your heart ache, probably more than you could have imagined. But, at least, he finally saw the whole picture.

"I'm not blocking you Bucky, that I can do but you need to go back to therapy.." you stated, a slight tremble in your voice betraying how you really felt as you were questioning yourself if it was the right thing to do.

"Go back to your doctor, talk with her about everything but not for me or anyone else..." you added, your voice now gentle.

"Do it for yourself, to feel better..."

Hoping that your final advice would suffice, that your words would be heard once and for all, and that he would finally try to understand why he was acting like this.

Bucky remained silent for a long minute as he listened to you. Deep down, he knew you were right about everything, realizing he had been selfish and obsessive without a valid reason, treating you poorly and being a terrible therapy partner.

And the thought that you might despise him for it hurt his heart the most.

"I will, I promise." He answered finally, taking a deep breath as his voice was still shaky and broken.

"But, what about you?" He dared to ask after another minute of silence, still the idea of letting you go tearing his heart apart.

"What about me, what?.." you chuckled softly, caught off guard by the sudden question.

You were aware he just wanted you to keep talking to him, that he just wanted to have your voice in his ear. Maybe there was a small part of him that cared about you, about what you would do without him around but still.

He was a goddam addict right now, acting desperately like one.

"I'll just keep with mine I guess.." you said honestly, sighing heavily as your voice went soft. The whole so-called fight had drained you, making you even more tired than you already were.

"Still, i don't know what I'll do with the program though, for now at least"

To be fair, you weren't sure what you were going to do next. If you would find another partner or quit the program altogether. But saying it out loud, voicing the inner thoughts inside your head, definitely helped making a decision.

"Uhm listen, Bucky..I...I have to go.." you suddenly said then, trying to find a way to close the call without hurting him further. 

"But as I said, you still have my number, just...if you message me I can't assure you a reply, ok?" you added, reassuring him still even if your brain reminded you how stupid this decision was.

The words struck him harder than any bullet could have. He felt the jolt of panic, wanting desperately to keep you on the phone, feeling his eyes welling up. No, he knew he couldn’t explode with everything he was feeling or he’d lose you forever.

He knew he needed your voice in his ear, needed to hear you talk to him, needed you like air to breathe. 

But his hand was shaking as he held the phone to his ear, struggling to stop himself from begging. He swallowed, realizing he’d been silent while you assured him you wouldn’t block his number even if you won’t text him back. 

That gave him the tiniest reassurance, but the doubt nagged at him almost instantly. Would you stick to your word? What if you didn’t? Panic lapped at his heels again and he clenched his jaw, forcing his words down.

"I understand." He whispered, his voice low and uncertain.

Don't beg, don't beg, don’t beg...Bucky repeated to himself as he felt a familiar sense of obsession creeping back in.

He had to fight it, he had to stop this before it consumed him completely. After all, he had promised to return to his therapist, to try and deal with this issue, to begin feeling better.

After that heartfelt call, he reached out to you the very same night. However, as you mentioned, you chose to ignore it, not wanting to give him a false sense of hope or start another discussion so soon.

A week went by, and then his doctor called you again, asking for your side of the story. At that, you recounted everything that had happened, sharing every detail you could remember of without placing the blame on him, convinced it wasn’t entirely his fault. 

And what she told you helped you understand the situation better. She explained that Bucky had an episode of limerence, a state characterized by an intense infatuation that bordered on obsession most of the time, and that it was dangerous for the current state of his mind.

She also advised you to maintain some distance for the time being, a decision you had already considered, since she wanted to break through the patterns deeply rooted in his mind.

"James' not a bad man, it's just that people had shown him very little kindness for a long time," she added. She suggested that while some of his feelings might be genuine, she wasn’t entirely sure, encouraging you to act according to your feelings when you heard from him again. 

“Just be honest with him, for both your sakes,” she concluded before ending the call with another thoughtful piece of advice.

After that conversation, you felt a sense of relief, to be honest, as much as an unexpected happiness.

Why were you even happy? 

Why were you so relieved that his feelings could be real? 

Did you actually have feelings for him?

Regardless, you followed her advice, until more than two months later when you finally heard from Bucky again.

It had been a long, hard two months for Bucky.

His therapy sessions focused on helping him work through his feelings and analyze his behaviors. He realized he had become obsessed with you, but it took him a while to understand the root of that obsession.

After much reflection, he discovered that his desire for you stemmed from a deep need for connection. Unlike many others, you had seen him not as an asset or a monster, but for who he truly was. This realization helped him make significant progress.

It was tough for him to go without talking to you, as his thoughts continually returned to the conversation you shared and your words.

However, he was working hard to manage his feelings, control himself, and learn to understand the difference between obsession and genuine emotions.

Finally, when his therapist gave him the green light to reach out to you, he didn’t hesitate. With a somewhat clearer mind, he picked up his phone, his hands shaking. After what felt like an eternity, he sent you a message.

-from Bucky: Can I call you?

_____________

If you're here so you read it all, and for that I thank you (let me know what you think about it)

Again, i'm sorry for the wait, i want to promise you all I'll do better next time, and I want to keep it that way, I just hope my brain won't fail me again.

Also, there will be a bonus chapter later next week, it's something I wrote as literally a...bonus...so you're free to read it or not, it doesn't change the story <3

[caffeinatedopossum]

I just realized that for some reason whenever I have a seizure, all of my thoughts stop EXCEPT the music?? Which is odd. Like my brain went "ope- we're getting a different caller please hold" *queue the hold music*

[jacklesraised]

m/cr finally going on tour again but their promo and timing was NOT thought out at ALL

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

FE7 is a LOT easier than I remember it being lol.

[ozzgin]

hear me out...

yandere prison..

runs normally, but the warden hired very specific people

and you just got falsely accused of a heinous crime

Yandere!Prison x Reader

A few years back I actually wanted to make a dating sim with a similar premise! So I might just redraw my old cover and recycle the characters, haha. content: gender neutral reader, violence

You've been accused of a crime you didn't commit. Even worse, you were speedily shipped to a maximum-security prison, despite your horror and your desperate protests. Your lawyers are scrambling to get you out as soon as possible, but it's not a guarantee.

You thought you'd be killed within the first moments after arriving. The three men you're sharing a cell with, however, turned out to be reasonable enough. Unexpectedly so.

The blonde one greeted you with a wide, merry smile. He's the friendliest of the bunch, despite his heavily scarred features. One of them seems to wear a mask at all times, and he doesn't speak much. The last one is polite, though he keeps his distance. His answers are curt and to the point.

You quickly noticed that all other inmates avoid you religiously. The tables empty when you put down your lunch tray, and during breaktime the yard fluctuates with people migrating to whatever corner is farthest away from you.

Today, you finally found out why: one of the prisoners happened to bump into you, and he promptly fell to his knees, begging you to not mention it to your cellmates. You are apparently sleeping next to the leaders of the biggest gang around. Even the guards are terrified to approach them the wrong way; the last one to do so was placed on permanent medical leave.

And yet, they are nice to you. In fact, you'd go as far as to say they're strangely protective of you, always looking out for your safety and hovering in your vicinity like trained dogs.

On your way back, you find the inmate who pleaded for your silence; his head nearly cracked open, held against the bathroom sink by your beloved blonde bunkie.

"Oops! You weren't supposed to see this," he laughs awkwardly. "Why don't you return to our room? I'll join you in a moment."

He flashes you his usual smile, innocent and somewhat silly. This time it appears particularly eerie, given it's stained by fresh splatters of blood.

[More yandere stories]

[thesquidgame]

Calm Before the Storm

Hwang Jun-ho x wife!reader

Summary: After your husband's disappearance, he starts to act different.

Warning: Angst, disappearance, gunshot wound, head injury, hospitals, mention of death, marital conflict, mention of divorce, guns

6k words

The worst day of your life happened after one of your husband’s work trips. He said that his team had gotten a lead on what might have happened to his brother and that he had to investigate. That was par for the course, every couple months there would be another potential lead on where your brother-in-law could be, but every couple months Jun-ho would be sorely disappointed. 

This time was different. He said he would be gone for a couple of days, and that he didn’t know if he would be able to get in contact. He left for one day, and then two, then more. His department panicked, apparently, it wasn’t a work trip and one of their detectives went missing. After a week his picture was on the nightly news, and after 10 days you were doing interviews begging for anyone who had any information to step forward. His mother came to sleep at your apartment, and she said she just wanted to help out with her daughter-in-law, but you could hear her sobs in the middle of the night through the thin walls between your bedroom and the guest room. 

At 5 AM, a week after Jun-ho’s disappearance, you got a call. They had found him. He was in a specialized emergency hospital on the outskirts of Seoul, and he was in a coma. You rushed to your car with your mother-in-law and broke speed limits that Jun-ho would never let you break when he was in the car with you. 

The hospital parking lot was nearly empty. The lobby was quiet when you walked in, and the front desk woman almost looked shocked when she saw two women with deep circles under their eyes and hair sticking in every direction. Honestly, you couldn’t care less. She was the receptionist at a hospital, if that was the craziest thing she’d seen she was in for a rude awakening when an actual patient came up to her desk.

She quickly directed you to his hotel room, on the 3rd floor, where his supervisor was already waiting. Time seemed to slow down as you rode the elevator. It couldn’t have taken longer than 20 seconds, but it felt like years. What if he was dying? What if he didn’t wake up? What if he was getting worse? Your thoughts kept racing, and you and Jun-ho’s mother couldn’t share a single word between the two of you between all of the panic going on inside your heads.

The floor was so quiet you could hear the squeak of a nurse’s shoes down the hallway. You should’ve run to your husband's bedside, but you couldn’t. You took one step at a time, terrified of what might await you. His supervisor stepped out the door and closed it. He looked at you with tired eyes. “Mrs. Hwang, Mrs. Park, I’m glad you could make it.”

“How’s my husband?” Formalities could wait. Formalities could go to hell.

He sighed, and your heart skipped several beats. “How is he?!” Jun-ho’s mother yelled. 

“He’s okay, he seems to be mostly stable, but I-” He raised his hand and scratched the back of his head, looking away at the ground, “I gotta be honest. He’s not great. He was shot and fell from a high distance into water. He passed out in the water and the doctors think he breathed in water and fell unconscious. They’re not sure of the extent of brain damage because he hasn’t woken up, but the lack of oxygen to his brain likely caused some sort of impact. There’s more, but they would only tell me the basics because I’m not family.”

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. What if he didn’t wake up? What if he did and he wasn’t the same? Memories of the last night you spent together raced through your head. It had been a long exhausting day, and he somehow knew how terrible it had been. He brought takeout home and made an extra stop to get your favorite dessert from a bakery. He set the food down on the kitchen table and immediately made his way to you on the couch, leaned down, and kissed you until you needed to come up for air. You turned off the tv and sat on the couch for hours, eating and talking and eventually fucking. Right before you went to bed he told you that he was going on the trip tomorrow, and you just smiled and nodded, thinking it was going to be like all the other times.

You pushed past the sergeant and walked into your husband’s room. His bed was separated from an empty one by a curtain. You couldn’t feel your own feet as you walked towards it, and it almost felt like your hand wasn’t moving at all when you pushed past the curtain.

Jun-ho looked like death. There was a tube shoved in his throat and his skin was so pale it looked translucent, the blue of his veins showing through on his arm next to an IV. The circles under his eyes were deep and dark, and he was in a neck brace, with his head bandaged. 

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of your lungs. The second his mother saw him, she collapsed at his side and laid her body over his legs. Her cries were guttural and came from something that must’ve broken inside of her. “My baby, my baby. I lost one son, I’ll die if I lose another.”

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t cry. You sunk to a chair at his side and reached out for his hand. He was so cold. His skin felt like he had just been taken out of the ocean minutes before, and his heart rate was so slow it felt like it was second between beats.

You didn’t hear the doctor come into the room until he spoke. Jun-ho’s mother looked up and stared at him like he was an angel, but you couldn’t look away from your husband’s unmoving body.

“Mrs. Hwang, can I talk to you about your husband’s condition?” You didn’t move, his mother had to beg the doctor to continue speaking. “He was shot in his left shoulder, luckily the bullet didn’t hit any vital organs, but because of the time between the injury and his arrival at the hospital, he lost a significant amount of blood. We think he hit the water head-first, and the impact caused his neck to break, luckily, there was no spinal cord damage. We induced him into a coma once he reached the hospital, so unfortunately we aren’t able to tell the extent of the damage unless he wakes.”

Your mother and law stood up “Unless? What do you mean by unless?!” she screamed. “My son is not going to die, do you hear me?!” 

You felt broken, Jun-ho had to wake up, he had to. You didn’t care if he couldn’t walk, or speak, but he had to wake up.

You could hear fists banging against the doctor’s chest, but you didn’t turn around. Just kept staring at your husband’s pale face, and pale hands.

The hospital had apparently received a large grant during COVID to expand, and when the pandemic had died down they became designated only for acute emergency cases and recovery care, and many rooms were kept vacant. The staff let you stay in the other bed in his room, and there was a shower attached to the room, designed for patients in long-term recovery and their family members. The hospital had a small cafeteria that made shockingly delicious Korean food, and they delivered the meals to the room three times a day. Before long, you became used to the tired routine of late-night check-ups and tired smiles from the nurses urging you to go home and rest. You were terrified that if you left the hospital Jun-ho would die before you could get back, but you couldn’t tell the nurses that. You just told the nurses that your house was far away and it was more convenient to stay at the hospital as opposed to making the commute or getting a hotel room.

It was three weeks before Jun-ho moved. In that time, you hadn’t left the hospital once. He squeezed your hand while you were holding it, and at first, you thought you imagined it. You called the doctor, and she said she would keep an eye on it, but not to get your hopes up- apparently twitching was normal in coma patients. Several hours later you felt the squeeze again, and when you looked up, you saw Jun-ho’s eyes open the slightest bit. 

It was like a month’s worth of fear and pain cascaded over in a heartbeat, and you collapsed on his chest in broken sobs, staring up at your husband. His mother was there, and she leaned over at him, pleading his name. He stared at you for as long as he could, until his eyes closed again, his eyelids twitching like he wanted them to stay open. Once his eyes closed your hand was still holding his in a tight grip, and you reached open to press the button again.

In the next couple of days, he went in and out of consciousness at increasing intervals. The first moment where you felt like you could breathe again came a week after he first squeezed your hand, when you awoke from sleeping laying on his lap while you sat in the chair to the sound of gagging. You heard his heartbeat increase and saw his throat convulse and his eyes flash open as he fought his breathing tube. 

You immediately pressed the call button for the nurse, and when they took too long you went out into the hallway and screamed for a nurse. There were only a couple of patients on his hall, and they could go screw themselves if they thought their sleep was more important than your husband's choking. The nurse and doctor came running and closed the door on you. Within a couple of minutes the nurse opened the door, and let you step inside. The doctor tried to talk to you, but you couldn’t hear anything she was saying as you walked past her toward your husband’s side.

“Baby,” Jun-ho whispered. His voice was hoarse and broken, and you could feel tears streaming down your face.

“Honey, you’re- you’re here.” You cried more and more, and he painfully reached his arm up to you.

“It’s okay (y/n), I was never going anywhere, I’m here.” You tucked your head into his neck and sobbed into his hospital gown. 

He stroked your hair slowly until his hand rested on the back of your head. You looked up to see that he had fallen back asleep, exhausted from the ordeal of choking on his breathing tube. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, wet from a single tear rolling down his face, and tucked your head back down to fall asleep again.

You woke up to a nurse gently shaking you away, informing you that you had to sleep in the other bed to prevent infection. You wanted to fight her for doing her job, but obliged. You fell back asleep quickly, too tired to stay awake because of the crying you had just finished doing.

“(Y/n).” You awoke to a quiet voice, blinking your eyes because of the bright sunlight streaming through the window. You immediately looked over at Jun-ho to see your fiance with his head turned looking at you.

“Jun-ho.” You stood up, stumbling out of bed in the clothes you had to have been wearing for at least a couple of days before now, and went over to kiss him on the lips, the same way he had the last time you had seen him before he went missing. He reciprocated with more force than you thought someone who hadn’t moved any part of his body in a month could.

“I missed you so much honey, I couldn’t breathe for so long.” He smiled and wiped a tear off of your face. 

“I know baby, but I’m here now, I’m here.” He looked at you with so much love and life in his eyes, exactly what you had been missing for the past month.

“I was so scared Jun-ho, first I couldn’t find you, and then once I did I- I wasn’t sure.” You paused, another tear streaming down your face. “I wasn’t sure you would make it.” You whispered.

“I know (y/n), and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“You- you got shot. You fell from really high into the water far out in the ocean. You have no idea how scared I was.”

His brow furrowed painfully before he suddenly pulled his head back and winced. “Jun-ho, Jun-ho? Are you okay?!”

You frantically pushed the call button and within seconds there was a team of doctors and nurses entering the room. They slowed slightly when they saw the scene in front of them, and quickly determined there was no immediate danger, and quickly began examining him and asking you both questions. Once the rest of the group left, Jun-ho’s main doctor sat in a chair to explain the situation to the both of you.

She explained what the team had seen when they had checked Jun-ho over, and explained the need for another set of scans to ensure there was no serious brain injury. “We also will need to call the police back to the hospital, because of the gunshot wound.”

Jun-ho froze, and his back grew stiff. “Baby, what’s wrong?” You rested your hand in his grip, tightening it around his.

“Nothing’s wrong, just nervous about the tests.” He squeezed your hand back and smiled up at you at your position sitting next to him on the bed. His body remained stiff, and your brow furrowed in confusion. He was likely traumatized and in pain, both physically and mentally.

Once the doctor left, you apprehensively asked him “Honey, I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but… What happened when you were gone, with the fall, and the gunshot wound?”

He looked away from you and glanced out the window. He paused, “I don’t know. I don’t remember what happened.”

You leaned in and squeezed his hand again. “It’s okay if you do, I just want to help you.”

He remained looking out the window, until he looked back at you, something tight across his eyes. “I really don’t know, can we please talk about something else. I’m going to get enough of that from my coworkers later anyways.” He laughed, but the tightness across his face remained the same.

Smiling a similar tight smile, you squeezed his hand back. “Okay. Just, let me know if you remember anything.”

“Now, is there anything I can do to help you?” 

“Jun-ho, I’m not the one who just woke up from a coma, that’s my line!” Jun-ho smiled a real smile, and you copied him, smiling your first genuine smile in weeks.

After the tests, you wheeled Jun-ho in a wheelchair back into his hospital room, where you were greeted by his boss sitting in your usual chair next to his bedside. He stood up to greet you, “Detective! It’s so good to see you awake again!” He bowed to Jun-ho, and your husband nodded his head in return.

“I���m sorry to bother you, but do you think we could do the interview now? Just so we don’t get more in the way of you and your lovely wife.” He smiled, but there was anxiety furrowing his brow. He was clearly using many tactics that you watched Jun-ho explain that the police force used on victims and their families.

Jun-ho smiled back, “of course.” He looked up at you and smiled a similar tight smile towards you. “Honey, do you think you could go and get some coffee from downstairs for us?” 

You nodded, unsure of what to do as you could clearly tell that the coffee run was just an excuse to get you out of the room. “Of course.” There wasn’t anything you could do about it, and confronting your husband about something he is clearly not ready to talk about would certainly not be a solution. “Officer, would you like me to get you anything?”

He waved you off and you hesitantly exited the room to go downstairs.

Due to the emptiness of the hospital, it didn’t take you long to go down to the cafeteria, pick up some coffee for you and Jun-ho, and come back upstairs. When you reached the floor that the room was on, you hesitated, noticing that the door was cracked and the sounds of him and his boss were still quietly filtering out into the hallway.

You debated for a second staying and eavesdropping, but your moral compass won out in the end. Whatever it was, Jun-ho was clearly not ready to tell you. You didn’t want to betray his trust, and eventually, he would share it with you. The two of you had no secrets between you. If there ever was a night when Jun-ho would have to stay later at work, or was suddenly asked to hang out by his friends, he would call you immediately and tell you what was going on and when he would probably be home. Not that you necessarily needed him to, you trusted him, but he insisted that he never wanted you to worry after him. You did the same in turn, even though your job was far less demanding than his and plans came up far less sporadically for you than they did for him.

As you walked away, you heard a sliver of the conversation “hundreds… shot.” It made you pause in your step. You must’ve misheard. Maybe he had said something else. Maybe you were too sleep-deprived and stressed to think clearly. Still, you turned those words around in your head as you sat in a chair in the hallway next to the nurse’s station.

If you hadn’t misheard- if; what would it mean? Did Jun-ho have a brain injury that didn’t turn up on scans that makes him misremember what happened? Or- or was he telling the truth? Your husband wasn’t a liar, he was the perfect detective because of his strict moral compass, so that must mean… That must mean that if there was no brain injury, and if you didn’t mishear, wherever Jun-ho was he had watched hundreds of people die.

You heard a knock on the doorframe, “Mrs. Hwang, we’re done with the interview.” 

You stood up and walked toward the door when the other detective put his hand on your shoulder while his face grimaced. “I hope everything works out well for the two of you, I really do.” With that foreboding line of encouragement, he walked past you and towards the elevator.

When you entered the room, Jun-ho smiled at you. “(Y/n).” You walked towards him and kissed his forehead, handing him the cup of coffee.

Kissing his forehead, you asked, “How did it go? Are you alright?”

Jun-ho’s brow creased, but he smiled back at you still. “It went well, I just told him that I didn’t know anything.”

That didn’t make sense. You had to have been gone for at least 20 minutes, there was no way those 15 minutes were filled with the other detective asking questions that your husband kept saying no to.

“I’ll have to go into the station later on after I’m discharged and give a longer more formal statement, but for now they’ll leave us alone.”

“Great, I’m glad to have you all to myself.” You leaned over and kissed him on the lips again. You trusted him, and whatever it was that he wasn’t telling you, he would open up about soon. 

He didn’t. After another 2 weeks, the hospital was completely sure there were no long-standing effects. Besides having to regularly come in for check-ups and to carefully not hurt the shoulder where he was shot, miraculously there were no other serious effects.

You had finally gone back into the apartment after he woke up, although you weren’t happy about going back when it was lifeless due to Jun-ho’s absence. By the time he was discharged, the apartment was dust-free, and you made sure that everything was the same as it had been when he had first gone missing.

In the past couple of weeks, Jun-ho had been too calm. He was casual about just about everything. He was smiling, and making jokes, like nothing had ever happened. But, underneath it all, you could tell something was different. When you’ve been with someone for so long, had exchanged wedding vows, and slept in the same bed for years, you just knew them. You knew your husband, and something was off about him. He refused to go to sleep in the hospital room with the door open, and every time you came or went he would make you close the door behind you. He insisted that you spent the night in the hotel room with him (not that you were complaining) even when he was far out of the danger zone. On the car ride home from the hospital he would check the mirrors every time he thought you weren’t looking.

There was something completely off about him, he seemed paranoid, and for the first time in your relationship besides his brother’s disappearance- scared. But every time you would ask him what was wrong, he would just smile and say “I’m alright, just adjusting.”

You carried all of your stuff to the apartment, insisting on doing so even though your stubborn husband wanted to carry luggage even with a bullet recently being removed from his shoulder. But, when you left the elevator and were about to go into the apartment, he stopped you by putting his hand out.

“Baby, I just want to get inside. This is heavy.” You complained.

“I know, just- just give me a minute. I want to check something.” He silently turned the key to your small apartment, took off both his shoes, and stepped inside. He pulled up his pant leg slightly and took out a gun that you didn’t even notice was there.

“Jun-ho!”

He turned back to you and put his finger to his lips, shushing you. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

He closed the door behind him, and you stood there shocked. You knew something was wrong, but you didn’t expect him to take out a gun and search your home.

In a couple of minutes, he came back out. “What the hell Jun-ho? What was that!” 

“It was nothing, I’m sorry.” He put the gun back away.

“Why would you search our house? You’ve never done that before. Seriously Jun-ho, what’s going on?” You shouted, exasperated by him saying one thing and acting in a completely opposite way.

“It’s nothing.” He sighed, “I’m sorry (y/n), I’m just scared. It’s been a while since I’ve been out of the hospital, so I’m nervous.” He leaned in and gave you a hug, which you reciprocated. But still, that wasn’t the whole truth.

“I think you should see someone Jun-ho, this isn’t normal.” You said into your husband’s chest.

“(Y/n), I’m fine. I promise.” You leaned your head up and kissed him again.

The first week back was difficult. Jun-ho seemed terrified of just about everything around him. The both of you barely left the house, and when you did his hand held yours in a tight grip.

Your job had given you an extended leave to take care of Jun-ho, but your leave was ending in a few weeks once the two-month mark passed. 

You were laying in bed one night, Jun-ho tracing circles on your shoulder as you spooned after making love. “Jun-ho, I’m worried about you.”

He kissed your shoulder, “what about?” He said casually.

You rolled over to face him. “About everything, you’ve been so scared and stressed. I don’t know what’s going to happen once I go back to work.” 

He propped his head on his hand as he laid on his side, “I know, I’m sorry. I’m starting to feel better. I’m sorry I’ve been so paranoid lately.”

You sighed, “I want you to see someone Jun-ho. I don’t want this to fester and fester.”

He sighed, “I know (y/n), I promise it’ll get better soon. I talked to the chief today, I’ll go back to work next week.”

You shot up in bed, “two weeks? Babe, that isn’t nearly enough time. You still can’t lift anything heavier than a paper clip with your left arm.”

Jun-ho reached back towards you and stroked your arm. “Well good thing I’m right-handed.” He smirked.

Tilting your head, you just looked back at your husband anxiously. “Jun-ho this is serious. You aren’t ready to go back to work.”

“(Y/n), please trust me. This will all be over soon, okay?” He looked at you pleadingly. He didn’t want you to drop it or ignore it, he wanted you to- trust him? There was a secret, but he clearly didn’t want you to know it, and just to wait.

Sighing, you said, “Okay, I’ll wait.” You didn’t know what else to say. You couldn’t make him tell you the truth, and he wanted you to not push it. There was nothing to do. “But I really want you to talk to someone.”

He leaned in to kiss you, and right before he touched your lips, he said “Okay, I will; for you.” Then he closed the distance and kissed you until you needed to come up for air.

Your house was quieter after you both went back to work. When Jun-ho came home from work he would make his way next to you on the couch, lay down, and put his head on your lap. It was nice at first, after so much stress you could simply relax and enjoy each other's company.

Soon after getting home, he would get tired. Sometimes falling asleep on your lap.

After a month of him getting back to work, you were exhausted from the silence. It became oppressive. You grew tired of the same routine, and how your husband never quite grew less paranoid. He became better at hiding it, attaching cameras and extra locks around your house under the guise of burglaries in the building that you had never heard of. He would stand up from his crouch install the locks and wrap his arms around you, kissing you and telling you that he just wanted you to be safe.

Before his accident, he would wake up every morning and make breakfast for the both of you, insisting that it was the most important meal of the day. After the accident, he started to make lunch as well, and whenever you suggested that you go out for dinner, he smiled and told you that he enjoyed your cooking so much more.

Then, after 3 months, he came home completely exhausted. It was later than usual, and you stayed up late to greet him, completely concerned by his lack of response to any of your texts. “Jun-ho, where the hell were you? Are you okay?!” You ran up to him as soon as he opened the door, looking him up and down for any injuries.

“No, I’m fine.” He smiled a lopsided and insincere smile at you. He smelled like alcohol.

“Were you drinking?” You demanded.

“Me and my coworkers went out for a couple of bottles of soju after work, nothing much.” He shook off his shoes and went to hug you.

You pulled away, “why didn’t you tell me? We always tell each other these things.” 

“Baby, I had a long, long day, let’s not do this right now.”

“No, we have to do this right now, what happened? You’ve been so strange lately, and you never went to talk to someone like you said you would.” You paused, tears beginning to well up in your eyes, “I’m really concerned for you. I want you to get tested for PTSD.”

He stepped closer to you, “I don’t have PTSD, I just had a long day.” You didn’t move. He sighed, “(Y/n), please, I’m exhausted. Can we do this tomorrow?”

You didn’t say anything but didn’t move when he closed the distance between you to pull you into a tight hug. You finally reciprocated, pulling him closer, when you heard silent sniffling from next to your ear. In a heartbeat, you felt a drop of wetness on your shoulder. 

The next day, Jun-ho quit being a detective. After he started crying, he pretended like nothing had happened, got silent, and took a shower before going to bed. You barely spoke another word the rest of the night, but after he thought you went to sleep you could feel him trace circles on your shoulder.

He told you as soon as he got home that being a detective was too much work for him after the accident, and he tired more easily, but you didn’t buy it for a second.

“Jun-ho, you love your job, why would you quit? Do you want to go back on leave?” You pleaded at your husband.

He smiled back at you, “Of course I love my job, it’s only temporary.” And he leaned in to kiss you on the lips.

Temporary. Although your better judgment told you otherwise, you put all your faith in that one little word. Temporary, this, like everything else making your husband act so different, would pass.

Jun-ho came home late the next day. Then the next. The first you waited up for him, sitting at the dinner table, your food growing cold. When your husband came in, he didn’t smell like alcohol, he simply kissed you on the forehead and sat down across from you, not confronting his tardiness. You cried yourself to sleep that night, with your husband laying stiff as a board next to you, unsure of what to do.

The next night, when he was late, you didn’t bother to wake up. You left his food in the fridge and went to bed early, tears streaming down your face. You were still awake when he came into bed but pretended to be asleep. You could feel the bed shaking from his silent sobs.

The next month went on in the same way, with the only escape from the monotony of your miserable silence being Jun-ho’s one day off. On that one day, you would pretend that you didn’t have any problems, that you were a normal couple who would go walking through the cherry trees and go out drinking together late at night. You went on a double date with one of your coworkers and her husband and sat awkwardly through one of their arguments. It wasn’t the same, but having some bit of refuge away from your stress was a lifesaver.

But even that changed. One day, you decided to go kayaking out in the bay, and while you were out in the water, Jun-ho stopped for a minute. There was a gap in your conversation, and during it, your husband stopped paddling.

“Babe, are you alright?”

He looked up at you as if startled. “Yeah, I’m alright.” He paused, “Would it be okay if we went back, I need to do something important.”

“Um, yeah sure. What is it?” You hesitantly asked.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” Your face sank. Every question you asked your husband ended with him saying ‘It’s nothing,’ no matter how big of a deal it likely was.

A couple of days later, when your husband came home late again, he told you that he would be busy on his day off and that a friend of his needed help on his boat. You just smiled and nodded, because what else could you really do?

Then he was busy the next weekend, and then the next, and the next. You only really saw your husband for a couple of minutes in the morning, and a couple of minutes in the night. Sometimes, you were able to make time. Sometimes, you would go out for a nice dinner, or go out to a friend’s party for the holidays. On your birthday he took the whole day off work and planned every single thing you would do all day. He made breakfast, took you shopping in the morning, went out to a nice lunch, took you out to the countryside to the ocean, and bought you lunch in your favorite tiny spot next to the shore. It was like for just 24 hours you had your husband back.

But other than that, it was like living with a ghost. He got more and more stressed over time. He smiled the same amount, but even with taking a demotion to a regular cop, he was getting worse and worse over time. He felt tenser, and more on edge than he had ever been before.

Every night you would fall asleep crying, you became used to waking up with a wet pillow or having to look at your puffy eyes when you wiped the condensation off the mirror after crying in the shower. Whenever Jun-ho saw the tears, whether you were laying in bed or cooking dinner on one of the rare nights that he came home early would wrap you in a hug from behind, and say, “I’m so sorry honey, I promise this will pass.” 

And you would plead, “Please honey, please, just tell me what’s happening, please be here more.”

And he would press his head into your back and whisper, “I can’t, I’m sorry. I love you.”

Your hopes would drop all over again, “I love you too.”

It was three years before anything changed. You would constantly beg him to do anything, to see someone, to talk to you, to do anything. Your friends asked you if he was cheating, but you knew he wasn’t. You knew, somehow that whatever was happening, was big, and important. And that it was eating you and your husband alive.

You didn’t see him for three days. He answered all of your texts with “Just something for work, I’ll be home soon. I love you.” Nothing else. No explanation for anything.

You slept on the couch and stayed there when you were awake, racked with anxiety. When he finally came home you sat there staring straight ahead. He didn’t speak.

You had pictured a fight, a confrontation. You had begged and pleaded, with tears in your eyes before. But nothing had happened. And after almost four years, you didn’t have any energy left.

“I want a divorce.” You surprised yourself with the words.

You looked up at him, and he stood there, his expression unreadable. 

“If you can’t tell me what the hell is going on, tomorrow I’m going to a lawyer.” 

He stumbled toward you and dropped to his knees in front of you, “(Y/n), please. You just have to trust me. This, this’ll all be over soon. I know I’ve said it before, but this time I mean it, soon it’ll be just like before.”

You looked into your husband’s eyes which were beginning to fill with tears. “I don’t believe you.”

“Baby, please. I can’t tell you, I really can’t.” His head dropped, breaking eye contact as you saw a tear fall down to reach the floor. He whispered, “If- if you know the truth, I don’t know what’ll happen to you. And I can’t risk that. I- I’ve risked everything else. But I can’t risk you.”

You couldn’t cry, your tears were all dried up. You should be shocked by what he was saying, but your mind went back to what you heard him say from outside that hospital room years ago “Hundreds… Shot.”

“I know, I’ve known. I know that you remember, and I know that it’s related to when you went missing. I just need you to trust me. I can’t do this anymore.”

He looks up at you, grabbing your hands and wrapping his around yours. “I know, I’m so sorry, but I need you to just wait a little bit longer-”

You stood up. “I think you should leave.” 

“(Y/n), please.”

You walked away from him, towards your bedroom. “(Y/n), I love you.”

“I love you.” And then you heard the door shut.

As you lay in bed, you couldn’t help but feel empty, like your heart had been torn out of your chest. The brutal calm you had been through was over, but storm had just begun.

Part two will be out with the next season, stay tuned for more!

[luludeluluramblings]

Smalltown!Neglected!Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfam ☁️ Part Six

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Four ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Seven ☁️ Part Eight

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Sorry it took so long. I just haven’t been satisfied with this, but I think I just need to bite the bullet and let it go. I’ve had this in the drafts for a while and have edited it three times.

A/N: I think I might focus on some blurbs. Or, if y’all want, y’all can submit ideas for what Smalltown is gonna be like. I gotta write down a general background for Reader’s childhood there. I have a plan, but wouldn’t mind y’all toss some ideas on to the pile.

A/N: Thank you 🐑 Anon for the happy birthday wishes!

Warning: Kidnapping, Hostage Situation for Reader, Guns, Violence, Death, Yandere Behavior and themes

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

After the initially panic and dread of being kidnapped settles into Reader’s bones, they’re quickly brought to the Iceberg Lounge. Where a Penguin waits to discuss the details of their ransom with them. He’s kidnapped a Wayne or two over the years, but with how well hidden the family has kept their newest member he might as well scope them out and see if he can make a pretty penny from ransoming them. Give them a proper Gotham introduction.

When Penguin finally has Reader he wrongly expects typical Gotham high society behavior. Threats, insult, bargaining, begging, bribing, hell, even crying. But, Reader, even while terrified, keeps being polite. Referring to him as Mr. Penguin, Sir, and saying please and thank you, while doing exactly what they’re told. Honestly, Reader’s more polite and respectful than half his goons and his own goddamn children. Such a damn shame they couldn’t have been his brat.

So he chats with them. Just for a bit.

How does Reader like Gotham? Who’s their favorite bat brat? What’s their favorite food? How much money did your Momma and Daddy leave you? Just friendly get-to-know you questions to help with the nerves. No need to worry. Everyone’s a bit scared during their first kidnapping. But, do they usually live past the first one, sir? Oh, you’re a smart one, aren’t ya? You’ll have to be careful with that.

It’s all quite tense for Reader, just sitting in an empty club with a dangerous man. That is, until word comes in that Bruce Wayne is paying the ransom in full. Apparently, it made Gotham headlines. The newest Wayne kidnapped. It’s all over the News, nearly every channel. Yet, Reader notices something. Why don’t they show my face, sir? It’s because this isn’t going to be your last time getting kidnapped. You’re in Gotham, baby bird. We’re all hostages in this city. How sweet of them to try to protect you from it.

It isn’t long after that, when the lounge gets visitor before the ransom money could even be dropped off.

Red Hood.

One of the Bat Brats, as Penguin calls him. His arrival raising Cain. Rubber bullets and real ones flying everywhere. Penguin gets a hold of Reader, rest his umbrella gun to their temple. Come now, Red. Don’t make me blow their pretty little head off. I’m actually fond of this one. Best of the Wayne bunch, in my not-so-humble opinion.

And, in one of the few times since becoming Red Hood, Jason hesitates. Because if he fails, if Reader gets hurt like he did, he’ll probably burn Gotham to the ground. It’s not an option. He can’t, he won’t, and he will not allow it. And, that thought, is at the forefront of his mind as he looks at Reader’s terrified face with a gun pointed at their head.

The pause, however, is noticeable. Not just to Reader, but to Penguin as well. A sign of weakness or a sign of something more foreboding. It last for a brief moment. Then Red Hood is back in action. Only, in that single moment, a decision was made. A dark decision. Something that had been healed and supposedly buried.

Batman had always fostered the importance of preparedness in them. So, of course, Jason had a magazine of live bullets ready to go for an emergency. And, this was a fucking emergency. Who cares about a few goons? And Penguin fucking deserves it.

Bruce will understand this time. How sad is it that he does?

Penguin barely escapes, with only a handful of his men still breathing and a few bullets in his shoulder, but he lives. Along with the information that the newest Wayne brat is precious enough to a Bat Brat to break the no-kill code again. Though, that might in itself become a problem for Gotham. Once again, Gotham will baptized in blood. Only, the sins are still growing under the red water. Perhaps, this time Gotham will drown in it instead.

Jason grabs a shaking and terrified Reader while leaving the lounge filled with bodies. He’ll take care of it later. Right now he needs to get Reader back to the manor, or somewhere anywhere safe. Away from Gotham, away from its criminals, and, most of all, away from him.

For a moment he had been… enraptured when he saw how scared his precious Reader looked with a gun to their head. How they looked at him with such a pitiful pleading expression. The way the shook and quaked. How fucking big their eyes got in fear.

Reader kept looking at him with those same watery fearful eyes. Those shaking fingers. A tremble that they must be all the way down to their bones. Cute. Cute. Cute. Cute. Cute.

He didn’t make it for before he snapped, grabbing Reader’s face to ask what they talked with Penguin about. What did he want from you? Why did you look so friendly with him? Don’t you know he’s a criminal. He’s dangerous. He just wants to see them cower like that again. Just once more.

It takes a long moment for him to calm down and pull himself away from terrifying Reader. Eventually, noticing an oncoming storm and realizing he had better get Reader somewhere safe and back to Bruce so he can go back and clean up the trash.

Jason leaves a throughly shaken and distraught Reader on the GCPD roof. Right next to a lit Bat Signal for a tired Jim Gordan to find.

Jim finds Reader in the storm, mildly despondent from the entire ordeal. After ushering them inside and trying to lightly question them, he makes a call to Bruce that Red Hood had rescued Reader and they the GCPD had them safe. Bruce, naturally , breaks all sorts of traffic laws to get to them when he hears the concerned tone in Jim’s voice.

Reader, exhausted from the days events and shock, falls asleep in one of the spare chairs in the GCPD building. Bruce practically melts in relief when he finds them, picking them up and gently loading them in his car. NOT A DAMN TRUCK. To take them back home. Most of the GCPD find the gesture touching. What a sweet father he is. How lucky Reader is to have such a loving father.

Arriving home, Bruce puts Reader to bed, and makes sure Alfred is on stand by to comfort them and see to their every need. Watch them. Let me know if there’s even the slightest sign of a nightmare.

After taking a moment to let his eyes linger on a sleeping Reader, he heads down into the Batcave. Calling the family together for a meeting.

Stephanie is distraught. It’s her fault Reader got taken, all her fault. She shouldn’t have left them alone. She should have been right there be their side the entire time. At every moment and got every second.

And, Bruce, with deceptively calm yet devastating words, confirms just as much.

Surprisingly, there’s no shouting. No disagreements. Not from Stephanie, and certainly not from any one else. Just the cold realization that it was her fault Reader was nearly hurt and the solemn acceptance of it. They were supposed to have a chance to get close. Stephane won’t ever let it happen again. She’ll always be close from now on. In every way she can. Even if she’s not worthy.

Jason having gone back to clean up his mess before reporting back to Bruce and the others had more startling news. No one mentions a thing when they see the blood on him. Nor the empty magazines. Nor that familiar look in his eyes that reminds them of when he first came back. Someone had torched the Iceberg Lounge before he got back. Penguin is still running free, but the lounge is up in fire and smoke.

He did manage to see a figure leaving when he finally saw past the flames.

A Talon.

The Court of the Owls was active once more.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

With the whole Kidnapping thing and the Court being active again despite its previous destruction, Reader’s life went on completely lockdown. They aren’t allowed to go into Gotham at all. Not that they wanted to. The only reason Bruce didn’t just unenrolled them from Gotham Academy is because Damian, Cassandra, and Duke vow to watch them closely and report everything back to him.

Alfred, from then on, drives them all to and from school. Leading to quiet, bordering awkward, mornings and afternoons.

After the whole ordeal with Penguin and Red Hood, Reader is ninety percent certain the family is Gotham’s Bat vigilantes. Mainly due to the fact that Red Hood reminded Reader eerily of how Jason acted to be around them. Luckily, he barely managed to hold himself back. But, it was clear, enjoyed their fear and wanted to scare them. The whole situation resulted in Reader’s momentarily loss of control.

It also didn’t help that everyone seemed to disappear now.

Sure, Reader rides to school with Cassandra and Duke everyday. Damian is also there, but he just silently watches them with those poisonous green eyes of his. The three of them now hovering in the distance down the back of Reader’s neck. Nevertheless, as soon as they were all back in the Manor, the place becomes like a ghosttown. Even Alfred disappears for hours on end now.

Reader rightful assumes it’s more Bat work. But, there’s no one there to talk about how the incident made them feel. To help them verbally process the ordeal. It hurts.

What hurt the most, however, was Stephanie avoiding them.

Now, if Stephanie had just given them even an empty excuse and left the room it probably wouldn’t have hurt so much. But, to watch the blood drain from Stephanie’s face at the sight of Reader and then physically run away from them was offensive and down right painful.

Then there’s the additional fact that, coincidentally, Jason starts showing back up at the manor. Undoubtedly, helping the others with whatever they’re doing in the library. But, Reader sees him as more often as they pace the empty halls of the manor. And, that hysterical gleam in his eyes reminds them of that night they were rescued.

Tim has been like a ghost since the beginning of Reader’s stay. Every time Reader seems to make progress befriending him, he disappears. Only to reappear and act like nothing happened. Unnaturally, he acts like they’re somehow even closer than before. Each and every time. Like he’s never let Reader alone. Ever. Like he’s always been there watching. And, then he disappears, again and again. Only staying for brief moments.

Barbara is just a thought in Reader’s mind. Reader has seen more of Jim Gordon, her father, than Barbara in the recent weeks.

Mr. Gordon had been wanting to check in on them after the incident and ask them a few questions on what happened that night at the Iceberg Lounge. He was quite gentle in his interrogation, if you could call it that. Barbara had told him Reader wasn’t used to Gotham’s madness and must be treated gently.

Not to say Barbara isn’t checking on Reader. Tim’s not the only on constantly checking the manor cameras as Reader paces.

Dick was like a stray wind. Blowing through the manor, knocking Reader over with the shower of affection then disappearing again. To the library. To Buldhaven. To the ends of the world and back for all they knew. Unfortunately, Reader was growing desperate for any sense of comfort and would cling to him when he came. You have no idea how happy that made him. It was so cute how sad Reader was when he left now. How nice it felt to be needed.

Bruce was different, though. After the incident, he somehow managed to find a way to suffocate Reader with his presence without even being in it for long. Appearing at random to just watch them before disappearing again. Nothing was ever said. He just watched them then vanished.

Reader dreads having to bring up the whole incident with Penguin and Red Hood to Nana. They don’t want to cause anyone back home to worry. Besides, it’ll just remind everyone about that incident a few years back. The one that Reader does everything to forget about. The incident that would probably change a few things for better or for worse. For the family and for Gotham.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Yeah, Penguin lives. But, for a reason. Don’t get mad, please. (I did research and found out he was basically Yandere for his mother and killed his father and brothers to have all her attention for himself. And, he has children. 👀)

A/N: Also, reader’s getting some mild tragic backstory. It’s the DC universe. Everything’s gotta have a bit of bitterness. It’s all for the plot.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Taglist:

@starsdotalk @sleepyghoster @maicenitas @box-of-kinderjoy @yandereheros @skwunkler @cl0esblogg @delias-stuff @rosecentury

[harrysfolklore]

driving lessons - op81

summary: oscar piastri teaches his girlfriend how to drive for the first time

MASTERLIST | JOIN MY PATREON

Life is full or ironies, and the fact that your boyfriend is an F1 driver and you don't even know how to drive is definitely one of them.

You always found it funny how someone who could navigate the most challenging race circuits with ease was dating someone who couldn't even navigate a parking lot, and was utterly terrified of being behind the wheel.

"I just can't believe you don't know how to drive," Oscar said while you were having dinner at his place one night.

"Excuse me, mister. Not all of us dreamed of driving cars for a living since we were kids," you teased, making him chuckle.

"Well, I guess I'll have to teach you how to drive, since that's what I do for a living."

You laughed at his enthusiasm, shaking your head. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm a lost cause when it comes to driving. I get anxious just thinking about it."

"Oh come on," he threw his head back, "I'll be a great teacher. We'll start slow, maybe in an empty parking lot. If it doesn't work out, we can stop anytime."

You thought about it for a second, you were at an age that it was downright embarrassing to not know how to drive, and maybe Oscar could actually help you face your fear of being behind the wheel.

"Okay," you agreed, "But you have to promise not to laugh at me, and we're not using a one of your McLaren luxury cars."

Oscar's eyes lit up with excitement. "Deal! We'll use something more… beginner-friendly."

"Beginner-friendly?" you raised an eyebrow, "Like what? A go-kart?"

"Hey, don't knock it till you try it," he laughed, "But no, I was thinking more along the lines of a nice, safe, regular car."

"Fine, but you have to be patient with me," you warned, pointing a finger at him, "I mean it, Oscar. One hint of frustration and I’m out."

He held up his hands in mock surrender. "I promise. Scout's honor."

"You were never a scout," you narrowed your eyes playfully.

"Minor detail," he waved off your accusation, making you laugh, "Seriously though, I think you'll surprise yourself. You're tougher than you give yourself credit for."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," you retorted, but you couldn't help but smile.

"Maybe not, but it might get me dessert," he shrugged, leaning closer, "And maybe a makeout session before we head to bed."

You threw your head back in laughter, grabbing his cheeks playfully and pecking his lips a couple of times.

"You're a teenager," you said, shaking your head. "But fine, you get dessert, and you snogging session. Just remember, no racing techniques, I don't need to learn how to drift around corners."

"Drifting? In your first lesson?" he placed a hand on his chest in mock offense, "I'm hurt you think so little of me."

"When are we doing this again?" you said, moving to place your empty plates in the dishwasher.

"How about this weekend?" Oscar hoped off his stool, helping you clean around the kitchen, "I'll find us a nice, empty parking lot, and we can take it from there."

"Oscar Piastri, F1 driver with podiums to his name will teach his girlfriend how to drive in a parking lot," you said as you shook your head, "How ironic."

Saturday morning arrived and it was time for your first driving lesson. After breakfast, you and Oscar headed to the empty parking lot in a small, compact car for the lesson. It was far less intimidating than one of his sleek, luxurious cars.

"Alright, let's get started," he said, opening the driver's side door for you. You took a deep breath and slid into the seat, adjusting it to fit your height, Oscar got in the passenger seat and handed you the keys.

"First things first," he began, his voice calm and steady, "Let's go over the basics. Adjust your mirrors so you can see clearly, and get comfortable with the controls."

You nodded, following his instructions. Once you were settled, he guided you through starting the car and putting it into gear.

"Wait," you said before starting the car, "You're teaching your dummy of a girlfriend how to drive a regular car, okay? Don't expect some professional Formula 1 driver stuff from me."

"I promise, just the basics," Oscar chuckled, shaking his head, "We won't be racing anyone today."

"Okay, here goes nothing," you took a deep breath and turned the key in the ignition, the engine coming to life with a low hum.

"Great job," Oscar said with a small smile, "Now, put the car in drive and slowly take your foot off the brake."

You hesitated, feeling a wave of anxiety wash over you. "What if I mess up?"

"You won't," he said confidently, "And even if you do, it's all part of the learning process. Just take it slow."

You took a deep breath and lifted your foot off the brake. The car began to roll forward and for a moment, everything seemed fine until you pressed the gas pedal a bit too hard. The car jerked forward, causing you to panic and slam on the brakes.

"Whoa, easy there," Oscar said, "You're not at Silverstone, remember?"

"This is so much harder than it looks," you huffed, feeling your frustration bubble up, "How do you make it seem so effortless?"

"Years of practice and maybe a little natural talent," he winked, "But seriously, you're doing fine. It's all about getting a feel for the car, let's try it again."

Taking a deep breath, you eased off the brake and gently pressed the gas pedal. This time, the car moved forward smoothly, and you couldn't help but smile at the small victory.

"See? You're getting it!" Oscar encouraged. "Now, let's try a gentle turn. Just steer to the right."

You gripped the steering wheel tightly, turning it slowly to the right. The car responded, and you managed to navigate the turn without any major issues. But as you straightened out, you accidentally hit the windshield wiper lever, causing them to whip back and forth at full speed.

Oscar burst out laughing, and you couldn't help but join in, despite your embarrassment.

"Well, at least we know the wipers work!" he joked.

"Ugh, I feel stupid," you groaned, fumbling to turn off the wipers.

"It's okay, baby," he leaned in to peck your cheek quickly.

"Stop kissing me, I'll get distracted," you teased.

"Okay, okay," he said, composing himself, "Let's try another lap around the parking lot. This time, no wiper incidents."

You nodded, determined to get the hang of it. You practiced driving around the empty lot, getting more comfortable with each turn and stop.

As the lesson continued, you found yourself improving bit by bit, though there were still moments of frustration.

"Ugh, why won't this stupid thing go where I want it to?" you groaned, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"Hey, it's okay," Oscar said soothingly. "You're doing great. Just remember to relax your grip a bit. The car will respond better if you're not strangling the wheel."

You did as he said, and you found yourself driving more comfortably around the parking lot, improving with your turns and stops.

"You know," he said at one point, "If you keep this up, you'll be ready to join the grid next season."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Yeah, right. I'll leave the racing to you, thank you very much."

"Fair enough," he said, grinning, "It would be really hard to fight with my girlfriend for the championship."

"Is your girlfriend Max Verstappen and I'm just finding out?" you teased, making him laugh.

"That's a secret I'll never tell," he joked, causing you both to burst into laughter.

After a few more laps around the parking lot, you were feeling more confident behind the wheel. Until the final challenge of the day approached: parking the car.

"Let’s try parking," he suggested after a while, "Find a spot and take it slow."

You spotted an empty space and carefully guided the car into it, but misjudged the angle and ended up crooked. You groaned in frustration. "Why is parking so hard?"

Oscar laughed, shaking his head. "Well, parking an F1 car in the garage is definitely easier, no tight spaces to worry about."

"Ha-ha, very funny," you retorted, but couldn't help but laugh along with him, "Alright, let me try again."

You pulled out and tried parking again, failing to get the car neatly within the lines. "How was that?"

"Okay, so maybe parking isn't your strong suit yet," he teases, "Good thing you're not in a pit stop competition."

"Fine, I had enough for today," you said, unbuckling your seat belt, "I'm ready to go back to being your passenger princess."

Oscar laughed, getting out of the passenger seat and switching positions with you.

"You did great, really," Oscar said once he settled in the drivers seat, leaning over to kiss you, "I'm proud of you, you know. You really pushed through your fear today."

"And we're both still alive so that's a good thing," you joked, making him laugh, "Thank you for being a great teacher, baby."

"All I did was sit here and provide moral support, it's not like I know anything about driving or cars," he teased, "You did all the hard work."

You rolled your eyes with affection, leaning in to kiss him again.

"Maybe next time we'll try an actual road," he suggested.

"Or maybe you can teach me how to do a proper donut," you said, making him throw his head back in laughter.

"Only if you promise not to tell the team."

[lets-try-some-writing]

I got the image of the Jack, Miko and Rafael learning to imitate Distressed/terrified Sparkling cries and using them against the decepticons. It’s a very efficient defense mechanism. Every cybertronian who heard them is freaking out because oh primus how is the squishy thing making that noise and I gotta protect it at all costs. The sheer chaos that would ensue as the ‘protect/rescue the sparkling’ programming kicks in full force.

——

The vehicons are clustered at the other end of the room panicking. They don’t know what to do. The human sparklings are looking right at them and making distress noises. The guilt is killing them.

Knockout going “is the car form less alarming?! If I turn into a car will you stop seeing me as the threat?!”

Breakdown is having a breakdown.

Starscream pinned to the wall on the other side of the room having an internal crisis. He doesn’t like this. Make it stop.

Soundwave makes no noise but you can FEEL the sheer distress radiating off of him.

Megatron is frozen. No thoughts, head empty. He’s not moving at all. He doesn’t know how to handle this.

——

The autobots have mixed feelings about this. They’re glad the kids have a way of defending themselves but please don’t do it near them. They’re stressed out enough as it is.

(This might sound kinda dumb but I thought it was kinda funny. Very tired while writing this)

Wait no this is actually brilliant.

The Decepticons never anticipated their long buried parental nature to be used against them. No one did. But they day the human children turned up on the battlefield looking far too confident, every Bot and Con present had the all encompassing feeling that something was terribly wrong. Their suspicions were quickly confirmed when, before the Decepticons could do much of anything to get the relics they were after, Rafael began to wail.

Normally, human screams meant nothing. But there was a certain pitch that sounded so close to a cry of distress from a sparkling that, to warriors who had not heard a sparkling in millennia, it was enough to send them running to help. In this case, the issue was only compounded as the children scattered like mice and started making the same noises. The Decepticons could hardly focus on the Autobots booking it to the relics as they frantically tried to locate the fictitious sparklings calling for aid.

The Vehicons managed to get to Jack, but he just kept looking up at them defiantly. Every time one of the dozen or so Vehicons on the field tried to grab him, blast him, or otherwise hurt him, Jack would chirp like a sparkling and send all of them scurrying back. It wasn't cute to the Vehicons. Having never seen actual sparklings but still having the coding needed to adore them, they looked at Jack and saw a weird frame-walker. They weren't sure what to do about it except try to haul themselves away while also keeping a vague circle around the human male.

Miko on the other hand made it a point to chase after Megatron and Soundwave, screeching like a sparkling about to be shredded. Neither stopped for her, but Megatron completely lost his train of thought every time that screech rang out. He could have been aiming at Optimus with a perfect head shot and he would be unable to fire as Miko's distressed sounds rang out in his audials. He KNEW she wasn't a sparking. His coding wasn't even that strong. But by Primus, hearing her screech was the same as watching a civilian get run over by a bus, repeatedly. Focus was impossible.

Soundwave wasn't much better. He didn't react outwardly, but the slowing of his steps and the way he tried to sidestep Miko gave away his distress. He avoided her like the plague, trying to refocus but being unable to really get far as Miko screamed like a demon. It was a fight against the Unmaker himself to keep Soundwave from bolting over to collect the sparkling who sounded so very upset.

Rafael, for his part, followed Miko's lead and harassed the other three members of High Command most often found out on the field. Breakdown ran screaming the moment Rafael started chirping at him. This was both out of fear of the frame-walker and to escape the inevitable overreaction of his coding. He may or may not have attempted parkour once or twice to get as far away from the smallest of the humans as possible.

Knockout tried to ignore Rafael when the kid chirped up at him, he really really did. But how does one ignore the Cybertronian equivalent of a soaking wet kitten meowing up at you? Simply put: you don't. Knockout gave in and quickly dropped down to try and soothe the non-existent sparkling every. single. time. Rafael pulled his noise trickery. He never fails to panic and attempt to flash colorful things at Rafael to get him to stop. Every Decepticon has since been endlessly disappointed in him.

Starscream, being terrified of things that really shouldn't be there, took the skies the instant the trio began screeching. Nope. Not today Unicron. He'll get the mission done or get the heck out of dodge to avoid coding coming online. He doesn't need empty nest syndrome on top of a crippling case of "I Love Power." He also doesn't need to deal with the horrific mental image of a squishy somehow managing to sound like a sparkling. Nope. Nope. NOPE.

The Autobots are grateful the kids can protect themselves a bit now. But by Primus, they have known NO peace since the kids figured it all out.

[solxamber]

Good morning/evening/ whenever you're reading this.

May I request Silver, Malleus, and Ace with someone who's like a sheep in wolfs clothing? Basically someone who seems intimidating and scary but is actually nice if that makes sense. Romantic or platonic is fine.

Malleus, Silver, Ace with a Sheep in Wolf's Clothing

hi! thank you for waiting, i hope this is what you wanted <3

Malleus Draconia

At first, Malleus is absolutely enchanted by the way you carry yourself. Your cool exterior, fierce glances, and aura of danger? He’s genuinely impressed. In his eyes, you’re practically royalty, strolling through campus with an air of mysterious authority that rivals his own.

But one evening, when the two of you are alone, he watches as you carefully kneel down to help a tiny creature—a shivering, injured bird, fallen from its nest. He’s speechless as you whisper gently to it, cooing softly as you tuck it into a makeshift cradle from your scarf.

“Ah, so even the fiercest can be kind,” he says, thoroughly charmed.

You look up, cheeks red. “What? No, I mean— I wasn’t… fierce,” you mutter, trying to explain away your rough side.

Malleus lets out a low chuckle, genuinely amused. “There’s no need to pretend with me, Child of Man. I find this side of you… endearing.” And with that, he offers his arm, as if escorting the most dignified person he’s ever met—like of course you’d be kind.

And every time he sees you after, he watches you just a little bit closer, hoping to catch more glimpses of the sweet, gentle heart beneath your “terrifying” façade.

Silver

Silver’s first impression? Oh, you were fierce, alright. With that intense stare and sharp wit, he thought you were the kind of person who could take on a horde of fire-breathing dragons without blinking.

But it doesn’t take him long to notice the little things: how you’re the first to offer help in a quiet, unassuming way. Or how you gave Grim half your lunch when he wouldn’t stop whining about his empty plate.

One day, he finally works up the courage to ask. “You’re… not like most people expect, are you?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Uh… how do you mean?”

He tilts his head thoughtfully. “You seem… gentle. Like someone who cares more than they show.” He says it simply, but with a warm smile.

“Oh! I—well, I guess…” You clear your throat, trying not to look too pleased. “Yeah, I try to be. Is that… weird?”

Silver chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Not at all. I think it’s admirable.” And with that, he goes back to his usual quiet self, though you notice he hangs around a bit more often, maybe just to keep an eye on you—or to be near you, enjoying the company of the sweetest “wolf” he’s ever met.

Ace Trappola

Ace was 100% convinced you were bad news when he first saw you. The way you stood, arms crossed and serious, maybe even a little cold, he thought for sure you were a total menace. So when he finds you one day, crouched down and helping a stray cat drink from a cup you’d brought, he actually does a double-take.

“You… feed stray animals?”

You look up, blushing furiously. “Uh… yeah? Why wouldn’t I?”

He bursts out laughing, clapping his hands. “Oh man, and here I thought you’d, like, fight a cat if it came too close!”

You roll your eyes, trying to act annoyed, but you can’t help but laugh, too. “Yeah, yeah, real funny.”

After that, Ace doesn’t let you live it down. He’ll pull you along when he sees a lost animal just to watch you fuss over it, teasing you the whole time. “Oh no, don’t let the fearsome ‘tough guy’ break out the baby voice again!”

But despite the endless teasing, he genuinely loves seeing you drop the act and show your soft side. And even if he won’t say it out loud, he thinks it’s pretty awesome having a friend as kind—and surprisingly tender—as you.

Masterlist

[eringobragh420]

🖤 Pairing — Damian Priest x f!Reader 🖤 Summary — Damian’s girlfriend is pissed off. 🖤 Word Count — 2.3k 🛑 Warnings — NSFW. D/s undertones, rough, unprotected p in v, slapping, cum. 18+ 🖤 Notes — Spanish translations are at the end of the story. I do not speak Spanish, so if anything is incorrect, please let me know and I'll fix it! 🖤 Taglist — If you'd like to be added, please click here! 🖤 MASTERLIST, KINK LIST

“Don’t fucking touch me, Priest,” she says, yanking her arm out of his grasp before shoving his stupid, giant body as hard as she can. He stumbles back a couple steps, arms spread, palms to his girlfriend, and the unadulterated befuddlement painted on his face is enough to make her head explode.

“The hell’s wrong with you?” Damian chuckles.

“What’s wrong with me?” she screams. Damian’s smirk is gone in an instant and his muscles stiffen, bringing him to his full terrifying height, but she can’t back down now. Not after what she just saw. Fuck him and the click he claims. “The fuck is wrong with you?” she continues yelling. They’re drawing attention—well, she is, anyway—but she couldn’t care less. She wants these people—his friends, coworkers, bosses, fans—to know exactly how much Damian Priest sucks, what kind of man is, what kind of boyfriend he is.

“Come here,” he grumbles, snatching her bicep, squeezing hard enough she knows there will be a bruise left behind, and he lifts, nearly bringing her feet off the ground, making it completely impossible for her to escape this time. She feels like her shoulder is dislocating the closer they get to the locker room, and she’s nearly flung into the door when it opens unexpectedly.

“Everything … okay here?” Seth Rollins asks, chocolate eyes passing back and forth between the couple.

“Everything’s fine,” Damian roars, swinging the tiny woman inside the empty locker room. As she goes by, she lifts her middle finger at Rollins, who instantly backs away, hands up, not wanting any trouble. Damian releases his death grip on her arm before kicking the door closed behind him. “Okay.” He sets his hands on his trim hips, shrugging, big eyes and raised brows. “Seriously. What’s your problem?”

Her lips purse as she massages her arm and considers his question. On one hand, she’s pissed because the asshole should know what he did. On the other hand, she could accuse him only to have him deny it, and then what does she do? On the other, other hand—a much smaller, less significant, barely existing other, other hand—there’s a chance she’s wrong, and while it would be good news, she would be embarrassed, and their relationship would be damaged … if it isn’t already. But then the image from earlier flashes in her brain and, not only does she want to die a little, she believes she knows the truth, so decides to stay the course.

“You’re—” She clears her throat because suddenly it’s scratchy and it hurts much like the pain in her chest. “You’re cheating on me.”

The allegation hangs heavily in the ether. She feels stupid actually saying the words. She never, in a million years, would have believed him to be the type, but she knows what her eyes saw. Rhea Ripley—the incomparable, exquisitely beautiful—Rhea Bloody Ripley in Damian’s strong arms, her muscular legs wrapped around his waist. They weren’t kissing, but they might as well have been, and somehow, in her crumbling mental capacity, that alone served as plenty of evidence for an affair.

“What?” Damian asks, the tone of his voice lowering several levels. “I’m—” He pauses, shaking his head. “You think I’m cheating on you?”

“Yeah, Damian, you’re fucking cheating on me,” she replies with more force than she thought she was capable of.

He nods, plump lips forming a deep frown. “And you thought acting like a psychopath in front of everyone we know was the way to handle it?”

“I don’t hear you denying it,” she seethes, nostrils flaring. Her skin crawls at the thought of the two of them together. She wants to vomit imagining a life without her Papí. She just can’t fucking believe they’ve ended up here.

“I shouldn’t have to,” Damian replies, bending over to her height. “You’re talkin’ nonsense!”

“I saw you, Damian. I fucking saw both of you.”

He shakes his head, shoulders coming up to his ears as he considers her statement. And then it dawns on him—she watches in real time as the lightbulb flashes on above his stupid man bun. “Are you talkin’ about Rhea?”

Her mind is blank, erased like a math problem on a chalkboard, leaving her heart in control of her body—and right now?—that heart is fractured, splintering, promising to disintegrate at any given moment. She feels her feet moving of their own volition, closing the space between them. She stands before him for half a moment at less than half his height before reeling back and slapping him across the face. The palm of her hand erupts with fire, tears she’s been battling since the moment she witnessed the embrace now streaming freely down her contoured cheeks. Damian stands frozen, looking somewhere over her head. The muscles in his jaws flex as he clenches his teeth, inhaling long and hard through his nose. He opens his mouth to spin a web of lies, so she slaps him again before he can get started. She’s crying now because of the pain in her hand and the pain behind her ribcage, so she slaps him once again because it’s his goddamn fault. Damian catches her wrist as she makes another attempt, and this is a brand new pain.

“Mírame!” he bellows, backing her up until she slams into the nearest wall. She loses her breath a bit, but Damian places his free hand behind her head to prevent any impact. His grip on her wrist is unrelenting as he holds it against her chest. She is miniscule in this awkward embrace, her eyes looking everywhere but where he wants her to. But when he bends his knees and dips down to her level, ducking his head until he’s in her line of sight, she’s forced to meet his gaze. “I’m gonna make you pay for those slaps in a minute …” he cautions. His hand starts applying pressure to the back of her head. “But first I have to tell you, because for some reason you need to fucking hear it, I’m not cheating on you.” 

She swallows, having her breath stolen again because she feels the truth of his words vibrating her bone marrow. She also feels the shame and embarrassment of being wrong. With her free hand she struggles to unclamp his vice-like grip from her wrist, and having had enough of her shit, Damian grabs both wrists this time and smashes them into the wall above her.

“Do you hear me?” he carries on, with quite a bit more hostility than she’s used to, shoving his knee into the wall between her legs. His knee pad becomes a cushion for her pussy—he’s still in his gear, still sweaty, because she accosted him right after his match—elevating her to the toes of her sneakers, and she is completely at the mercy of Damian Priest.

“Yes,” she says through clenched teeth.

“Good. Do you believe me? Hmm?” Capturing both wrists in one hand, he cups her chin with the other and touches his cheek to hers. “Do you believe that I’d rather die than hear someone else call me Papí?” It’s actually an incredibly sweet confession, but the venom in his tone scorches the honey in his words.

She believes him. By all that is good and holy in this world, she believes him and she is equal parts mortified, thankful, and contrite. She’d allowed her imagination to run wild because of an act of love between close friends, never once considering having a civil conversation with either of them about how it clearly made her uncomfortable. Did she just cause a rift in their relationship? Contaminate it with her jealousy? How many people is she going to have to apologize to? Seth, for sure, although he usually deserves any middle finger aimed in his direction. Christ, what’s she gonna say to Rhea?

“Damian,” she whispers, doing everything she can to not sound pathetic, and if her own ears are to be trusted, she is failing miserably.

“No,” he interrupts her, “you started this. I’m gonna fucking finish it. Now answer me.”

She grits her teeth, rolling her hips unconsciously because the position he’s put her in isn’t all that comfortable, probably by design, and suddenly she remembers how and why she’s propped on her boyfriend’s thigh. Even the slightest friction renders a groan from her. Damian tilts his head, eyes unforgiving, a sable shade she’s never seen before, and she regrets having made any noise at all, no matter how unintentional. His cheek is transforming into a furious vermillion, and the guilt that washes over her is nearly unbearable. She has no hand left to play, not that she did in the first fucking place, and she resigns herself to the punishment she’s about to receive. Well-deserved punishment, she understands.

“Yes,” she breathes, his eyes boring into her, chipping away any residual resolve she might have left inside.

“¿Si, que?” he booms, as if he expected the incorrect response. His anger hasn’t abated.

She can’t feel her fingers anymore and she’s struggling to maintain balance on Damian’s thigh. The slightest lean this way or that sends jolts of pleasure throughout her body, and it’s a losing battle trying to keep the satisfaction off her face. “Yes, Papí,” she says, “I believe you.”

He eyes her for a long moment, searching her face for any clue she might be lying or still angry. She keeps her own eyes open and on him, seemingly baring her soul before him, feeling more vulnerable now than she has in her entire life. At last he pushes away from her and the wall, releasing her wrists, removing his thigh from between her legs, and maybe she misses that last part a little bit.

“Now take those off—” He points at her denim shorts. “—and bend the fuck over.” And then he moves his arm to the right, pointing at a giant WWE trunk on wheels wedged against the corner of the room. She knows her place, and she has her orders.

She kicks her shorts toward him, standing before him in nothing but a pair of Nike hightops, a white thong, and a t-shirt-turned-tube-top that demands the audience to ALL RISE. He doesn’t even look at her body before nodding toward the trunk, and Jesus Christ, she’s in so much trouble. She passes him while rubbing her wrists and when she’s standing less than a foot from the trunk, she realizes she’s too short for this fucking thing too. She glances at Damian over her shoulder, and he’s stomping toward her, and her heart jumps into her throat. She hops onto the trunk, tips of her shoes barely kissing the floor just like when she was straddling Damian’s thigh.

The smack to her right ass cheek echoes throughout the locker room, same with the slap to her left, and she yelps.  Damian grabs her hair and pulls, arching her back into a spine-busting half-circle. He lets go, but before she can fall forward, one of his huge hands clamps over her mouth and holds her in position. With the other, he wrenches at her thong to pull it aside—she hears the material rip at the same time—then bends her leg at the knee and props it onto the trunk beside her.

“You know, the jealousy is kinda sexy on you,” Damian comments. Now she feels his hand working at his pants as it bumps against her sore ass. Then comes a different kind of smacking as he swats the sensitive skin with the underside of his rigid cock. He traces the head along both cheeks and along the crack, on down until she feels the huge, blunt head at her soaking entrance. “But don’t you ever fucking slap me again.”

Without warning, he is wholly sheathed inside her, his hips slamming into hers. She cries out from behind his hand, clutching his wrist with one hand as the other claws at the trunk in a desperate search for leverage to launch herself away. Damian is not a small man, in any way, shape, or form, so he’s always allowed her a few minutes to get used to his size. Not this time. This is her penance. He squeezes her hip, in full control of her body, and he’s simply using her pussy to get off now, without regard for her pleasure. She feels almost like a fleshlight, but her hormones are confused because she’s wet as fuck and, whether he likes it or not, she’s liable to get off just from him fucking her.

Damian stretches across her backside, her spine still bowed, and his teeth scrape across the shell of her ear as he grunts, “Say you’re fucking sorry.” He removes his hand from her mouth.

She gulps oxygen before panting, “I’m sorry, Papí. I’m so fucking sorry.”

He kisses her sweaty neck and sighs, hanging his head over her shoulder in unison with slowing the pummeling of her pussy. “I’m sorry, too. Lo siento, mi vida.” His rhythm starts speeding up following several moments. “But I am gonna cum in this pussy,” he advises, standing up straight, gripping both hips. “And you are gonna walk outta here with it dripping down your thighs.”

“Yes, Papí.”

“Because I fucking love you.”

She groans, bucking back against him. “I love you, baby.”

One final thrust and he makes good on his promise. He even squeezes the base of his cock to make sure every drop is inside her before pulling out. He’s much more gentle with her now, his enormous hands sliding up her back to her shoulder and arm so he can assist her into a standing position. As soon as she turns to him, she grabs his face and pulls his lips to hers. Their kiss is long, deliberate, and by the time they’re finished, his hands are cupping her face and hers are clutching his neck, and goddamn it, she’s so fucking stupid. But love makes people do crazy things.

“Now what do I do?” she asks, holding up the tattered side of her thong. Damian inspects the damage, then takes the lacey material in both hands and rips it into several pieces, which fall one by one to the floor.

“Problem solved.”

🎀 Mírame - Look at me 🎀 Si, que - Yes, what 🎀 Papí - Daddy 🎀 Lo siento - I'm sorry

[vivwritesfics]

Better Than He Ever Was - MV1

This gif makes me feral - I am on my KNEES

Y/N is pregnant and Max is sweating

Related works: Mini Me Prodigy

When Y/N Verstappen found out she was pregnant with Fabian, Max was terrified. He was utterly, utterly terrified.

He played it well, cheering and happy smiles when Y/N showed him the pregnancy test. To everybody on the outside, he was the overjoyed father to be, talking about Y/N and their baby on the way any chance he got.

There were very few people who saw beneath the facade Max was putting on. The first was Christian Horner, who himself was like a father to Max. The next was Charles Leclerc, who was way too excited at rhe prospect of being an uncle that he forgot he wouldn't actually be related to the baby.

Both said the same thing: that Max should talk to Y/N about it.

But where was he to begin? How did he tell her, after seeing how happy she was, that he wasn't ready to have a baby.

When she started showing? Oh boy.

It was never something Y/N wanted to keep hidden. As soon as she had all the tests she had taken come back positive, she posted something to all of her social media's. Max did, too, playing his part well.

Y/N didn't wear baggy clothes to hide her bump; she showed it off with pride. At every single grand prix she'd be standing beside her husband, hand over her stomach and the press took pictures of them.

Most husbands, when their wife's baby bump began showing, would be over the moon. But when Y/N started showing, it just made Max more fearful.

Y/Ns very first proper indication of the was when they were discussing baby names.

Any moment she got, Y/N was writing down potential names. She had at least twenty of each.

"How do you like Felix?" Y/N asked him as they watched a movie together. Max had been sim racing all day; this was the first proper moment she'd had to spend with him. "Or Daniel?"

"Daniel can be the middle name if it's a boy," Max said as he fed her a Malteaser.

Y/N moved over to her list of girls names. "If it's a girl, I liked Mila. Thought Mila Verstappen had a really nice ring to it."

Max just hummed.

It was two weeks after that Y/N finally sat him down.

"What's going on with you?" She asked, her hand resting on her bump. That morning her snack of choice had been stroopwafels, and she'd accidentally finished the entire box (but who could blame her? They're addictive).

"What do you mean?" Asked Max as he lifted the box to see what he was inside. Nothing, empty. He made a mental note to buy more.

A terrible, horrible feeling settled in Y/Ns stomach. "Please, Maxie," she placed her hand over his, rubbing her thumb over his wrist. "Tell me what's going on. I'm begging you!"

Max let out a huff. He hated himself. "I love you," he said, which definitely wasn't concerning. "I love you so much and I know how excited you are to have our baby, but I don't know if I can do it."

Her heart was beating so loud she was sure Max could hear it. "Wha-what are you trying to say?"

"I'm trying to say that I'm so fucking scared, Y/N. I'm terrified of being a dad. What if I raise our child like my dad raised me and the kid ends up like me? I'd never be able to forgive myself if that happened."

Oh. This wasn't a dire as Y/N thought it was. This was something she could deal with. "Come here," she said softly and tried to pull his chair closer. Max shuffled over. He let Y/N wrap her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. "Do you remember last summer, when we went on holiday with my sister and her kids? Do you remember how they loved you so much that they wouldn't leave you alone?"

They'd rented out a villa. Max and Y/N had just come back from their honeymoon when Y/N's sister had invited them away.

As soon as they had their things unpacked, the kids grabbed their uncle Max's hands and dragged him into the pool. "Let's race!" The oldest shouted. Max was more than happy to oblige. He raced them to the other side of the pool and back, letting them win, of course.

When Y/N and his sister started on lunch, Max was blowing up the inflatable pool toys and looking after the baby. He was a natural with all three of them. Y/N watched them out of the window as she buttered the bread and passed it to her sister. That was when she realised how wonderful of a father Max was going to be. That was when she realised she wanted to have his children.

By the end of the holiday, the children were obsessed with him. According to Y/N's sister they didn't stop talking about him until at least two weeks after the holiday.

Max nodded his head. At first he'd been secretly reluctant to entertain the kids. But he loved it, and he actually found it fun. Of course, it wouldn't be the same when it was his own child.

"You're going to be an amazing father, Max. You're so kind and caring and kids love you. Plus, you're aware of how shitty your dad was to you, you know what you have to differently," she said, running her fingers through his hair. "I'll be there with you every step of the way," Y/N whispered and kissed the top of her head.

Max was still terrified, but he was trying not to be. But Y/N saw him change. He really did become that cheering and happy father he was pretending to be at the start.

Aside from Formula One, Max's life became getting Y/N whatever she and the baby were craving. Stroopwafels, mostly.

They discussed names more when Max became more comfortable. He was a big fan of Nora. Nora Sophie Verstappen. It had a very nice ring to it, Max thought. Little baby Nora.

They'd struggled to settle on a name for a boy. After Max had suggested his mothers name for the baby's middle name, Y/N was afraid Jos' name was going to be thrown into the mix. Not after all of Max's fears and anxiety. They'd decided Hugo, Hugo Verstappen was to be his name.

If it was up to Y/N, Jos wouldn't be in the child's life. But, of course, it wasn't just up to her. It was a decision she and Max had to make together.

When they found out they were having a little boy, Y/N and Max were over the moon. They decorated the nursery, painting the walls to be like a Formula One track. The bottom third was all grass, the middle was the track and the rest was blue skies with fluffy clouds.

The track went all the way around the room, with little race cars painted onto the track. There was a little Red Bull with a 33 on it, and a little Ferrari with a 16. It was a friend who painted it for them, going into intricate details for the cars and garages.

And then Y/N went into labour.

All of those fears Max had managed to get past came flooding back. His wife was about to give birth to his little boy.

Max wasn't much help through the delivery. Actually, through most of it he wasn't allowed in the delivery room, since he was panicking too much.

He wasn't a Hugo. That was what Y/N and Max decided the moment he was born. He was a Fabian. Fabian Hugo Verstappen. He was the most gorgeous little boy in the world. That was all Max could think as he stared at him, cradles in his wife's arms.

His son. His boy.

"Welcome to the world, Fabian Hugo Verstappen."

[churipu]

THE MOMENT THEY REALIZE THEY'RE IN LOVE ִ ࣪𖤐

featuring. gojo satoru, sukuna ryomen, itadori yuuji, toji fushiguro x reader

warnings. cursing, college! au, toji being a single father during his second term of uni (i searched that most japanese college uses 2 terms or trimester system / 3 terms, 1 term of uni in japan is around 15 weeks apparently) -> please tell me if i get this wrong.

note. omg, for the anons who have sent in requests to me, i apologize if these came out before your requests did, i'm trying to empty out my drafts :( but pls note that i am not ignoring your requests at all, it will be written, i promise <;33

GOJO SATORU

when he finds himself checking his phone countless of times, waiting for your message

i promise you, you both started out as work partners in one of your lectures. the two of you were complete strangers to each other — he doesn't know you, and you don't know him. but, either way, the two of you had to get to know each other because this was a crucial grade to pass this lecture.

gojo never thought about having feelings towards you, his work partner. he thought to himself, he'd just get this work done, pass this lecture, and never see you again.

but fate is a funny thing.

the way you made him feel like he wasn't just special because of his face, but his heart too. whereas most people in campus would consider him the pretty boy who could go head-to-head with the hottest celebrities — they just think of him as a pretty boy. and gojo would just go along with them, he gets used to it.

but you? you didn't consider him special at all. although, you did make him feel special the way other people can't.

gojo deep down, knows he was fucked up the moment he finds himself checking his phone to see if you'd reply to his messages, and when you do, he gets so happy. gojo was never a fast responder to everyone — because he practically receives the same kind of messages, "gojo hang out with us", "gojo go out with me", "gojo i like you".

but with you? he won't waste a second at all. even if sometimes you didn't reply as fast as he does, because you are a busy person in campus. you'll work on that after you both started dating, i promise.

SUKUNA RYOMEN

when you stood up for him when nobody would.

sukuna, how do i say this? not everyone is fond of him, people are scared of him — they talk shit behind his back, and don't dare to approach him. people dreaded when they have to be in the same group with him, despite the fact that he actually works; they still think he's a bad person.

"you guys are talking shit to a person who's in our group, if you want to say something to him, have the balls to say it to his face. and while he's here, why don't you tell him about it?" you tell the two people who were sitting beside you, who had been talking in whispers about how they were unlucky to be grouped up with sukuna.

and sukuna? he could honestly care less, he'd gotten used to those kind of things anyway. but when you actually stood up for him, he could only look at you with an amused smile.

he's definitely curious about you after that day — he has pride. and he'd never admit that he's actually pretty thankful that you, the first person to stand up for him, actually did what you did. because now people are a little terrified of being told off by you.

sukuna finally sucks it up at the end of the semester and tries to talk to you. yes, it took him the whole semester to talk to you, asking you for your number, and then thanking you for what you did because nobody has ever done that before to him.

ITADORI YUUJI

when you went all out to tutor him so he'd pass his lectures, teaching him patiently when he doesn't understand something.

yuuji hates studying. and when his lecturer asked you to tutor him, he feels extremely bad for you — he feels that he'd just going to waste your time tutoring him, when he knows that he's going to fail this one subject.

but when you reassured him, and encouraged him. saying that you will do anything to teach him so that he could pass, he gets a little emotional at the thought. you both were just mere classmates, and he barely knows you, vice versa.

when he doesn't understand a topic, he gets so frustrated at himself for not being able to understand it. but you, you were very patient with the male, reassuring him that you had the time to teach him over so that he will be able to understand the said topic.

and when he does finally understand, he gets so happy. he started looking forwards to your tutoring sessions, and like everyone said: if you enjoy something, it passes by quickly. and it's true, yuuji feels like time went by in a flash, and the exams soon started.

he passed with flying colors, he makes sure that you know about his grades — and points out that without you, he wouldn't be able to pass. yuuji, gets a little upset when he realizes that if the exams are over, you had no more tutoring sessions with him; which meant no more conversations.

so he has to ask you out right then, he didn't want to just return as mere classmates. he wanted to be more than that.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

when you didn't care about his shitty reputation of being a single father while still being on the second term of uni.

being a single parent is hard enough. not to mention, in university. not married, with a baby itself gets a lot of unwanted (negative) attention — toji, who once failed to get a babysitter on a weekday, and so he had to bring his eight month old son to class.

his son—megumi— was a calm baby, thankfully. the young one didn't cry or babble during lectures, and he just slept through it. toji was a little relieved to say the least, but ever since people find out about him being a single father to an eight month old baby, a lot of assumptions and words have gone around.

toji hated group works, especially when he has to pick the group himself. people didn't want a single father to be in their group, they assumed that the male would focus on his baby and ends up deserting the group work.

so when that particular day where he has to bring megumi to campus, strapped on a baby carrier on his chest. his lecturer just had to give out a partner work, and to add the cherry on top; the lecturer left the class to choose their own partner. so the male sat on his place, a pencil in between his nose and upper lip as he puckered them lightly — hearing his classmates choosing each other.

he figured that he could just do this and get the grade himself, solo. but when you came up and slipped into the seat next to him, he was of course surprised.

you asked him if he would like to partner up with you for this work, and after a few seconds, he accepted your offer.

toji knew it was getting bad when you didn't care about what people say about you getting close to him. just by choosing him for this work made your reputation falter a bit, and he was honestly ready for you to back out of the partner work.

but you didn't, and he knew it's bad for him, his feelings, and his heart.

the way you treated him and megumi like they're both normal (which they are normal humans), and the way you always make him feel included makes his heart race. sometimes, when he fails to look for a babysitter when you both are working for this project, you tell him he didn't have to since megumi is a calm baby.

he finds himself in awe when baby megumi plays with you during both of your little meet ups outside of class to do the project. he's in love.

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[syatbs]

Suck the Drug

summary: When Y/N wants to set farewells to her soon-to-be ex-boyfriend, Nam-gyu, she uncovers something terrifying.

➳genre/au: Nam-gyu x reader [she/her, female anatomy}, smut, plotwist, 18+, Dom Namgyu, Dom Reader, explicit content.

➳ Word Count: 2.624k

Find me on Ao3 for more frequent updates.

“Don’t let that asshole foul you, Y/N.”

The words of my closest friend reverberated within my head like obnoxious little bells. She always tries to protect me from the painful outcomes, but I just don’t fucking listen.

 I was fully aware of where this relationship was leading, but I still chose to tear my insides apart until nothing remained but the empty words that I loved him.

Him… The guy who ignited a spark within my heart and the same one who purloined it like a thief in the night.

Nam-gyu.

That’s his name and crossness spurted in my chest. It was resentment for myself who melted at the thought of his name for a tad second. How the vision of his handsome features entering my mind, made my pulse hammer against the veins.

I was a lost cause, yet I was desperate for him.

Not in love as I thought when we first crossed paths. Just yearning for affection from a man who only gifted me with mixed signals and nothing else.

“What’s wrong?” A deep voice bloomed in the dim red room, my rumination fizzling out like the smoke of a cigarette.

Following the sound, I was met with two pairs of eyes. They had the deepest color, so dark that oftentimes I had the impression that what I was seeing was the abyss of the ocean… So deep like forbidden secrets that are banned from being professed.

I didn’t realize when I was pulled into a privet room, the loud music now becoming dull, and fainted through the soundproof walls that were enclosing us. I wasn’t even permitted a proper period to grasp what a terrible mistake I had just made… Where instead of being in my bed and asleep, I had visited the club Pentagon in search of a man I should be running away rather than lusting over.

It only dawned when Nam-gyu was between my legs with the purpose of pleasuring me. His long thin fingers that were clad with silver rings, grazed the inner side of my thighs, a peculiar expression creasing his handsome face. It was crystal clear that this man wanted to devour me whole, though when he saw I was spacing out, he seemed rather reluctant.

And it shouldn’t pester me one bit for the reason why Nam-gyu looked quite different from our past encounters.

Conversely, it did. A lot.

Though when that sensation festered me like a hurricane brimful of unfortunates, I shook my head mentally.

No. This time what I’m about to do is for my own selfish benefit. For once I will spoil myself without giving something in return.

In instinct, the edge of my lips was tugged into a smirk. “Nothing. Just the thought that we had a long time to see each other.”

Kissing now the exposed skin, I had to swallow a whimper.

“Is it?” Nam-gyu mused as his kittenish demeanor returned. His teeth skimmed over the inner of my thigh before sucking down lightly, only to draw away and leave his teeth marks on the other leg.

My back arched as I moaned and my French Manicure nails sunk into the velvet cushion of the sofa beneath me.

There was no more hesitation in his motives.

With hazy eyes, I stared at his fingers grazing the upper of my legs, while his mouth was busy leaving mark after mark, and traveled them up to the hem of my leather skirt.

“Look at you so eager… I started to believe that you actually missed me.” I teased, though there was some truth alongside my telling.

On the other hand, he didn’t waver to my words only to crane his neck and gaze up at me in a look that made butterflies waltz in my stomach.

“I always do.”

At that everything around me ceased, trapping me in an environment that was only just the two of us. No music from the speakers or laughter from the guests who were gliding outside. Every length of my body was now trembling as I was not able to contain the sadness that took over. I wondered if he was genuine or if it was another of his believable lies… To push me further in the obsession I have for him.

Before I could open my mouth and demand an answer to my troubles, his fingers disappeared into my short skirt, and hooking his index fingers at the edges of my panties he pushed them down to my legs. Then shoving them into the back pocket of his dark trousers, with a drag of my hips, Nam-gyu forced my wet pussy close to his face.

My bloodstream was now racing with the exhilaration of my heartbeat as blush crept on my cheeks. Despite being no stranger to this man, such intimating moments were always making me shy away.

I felt vulnerable, yet simultaneously, the most delectable woman in the club. It was ridiculous such ideation; therefore, it gave me a sense of power that I never knew existed.

“So fucking beautiful.” He rasped, his voice dropping an octave.

Parting my legs even wider, he darted out his tongue and licked the wetness that coated my walls since the very moment I spotted him in the club. He slowly traveled it up to my sensitive bud and sucked it between his front teeth before two fingers were shoved inside me in replace of his tongue.

They weren’t that deep and I had to move my hips in desperation to find some friction. Perversely my craves soon came to a halt when his free hand forced me to stay immobile.

“Nam-gyu…” I mewled his name.

In an instant, a growl rumbled within his chest as I knew that he was getting off with how addressed him by his first name. However, his hold didn’t grow slack. In lieu, he nibbled harshly on my clit, earning a scream from me.

When I threw him daggers, a lethal expression took over his exterior and drawled. “Patience is the key, Y/N. So be a good girl and take what I’m giving you.”

At that goosebumps blazed down my spine, his dominance having a foreign effect on me. In the past, our intimating moments weren’t so intense and ardent. There was no eye contact or words, merely the animus to bring ourselves into the high.

This time, however, he was acting on a different hue and to be frank, I didn’t like it. At all.  

Because it made me feel. Because this sudden meet-up was for me to visit him for one last time before I take our memories and burn them in the flames of what I call “moving on”. To forget for once and for all that, this man made me more alive than any other mortal being and not dwell on the webs he set for me, so he could keep me as his lover prisoner.

Placing my legs on the edge of the sofa, my fingers ran through his long dark hair, and taking a fistful I pulled until a low hiss fell from his lips.

“There is no patience if there is no time.” I heaved.

I could see my words echoing within his skull, and once he understood the message his jaw clenched.

He finally realized that what I was doing wasn’t our usual routine, where I visited the club where he works, getting railed, and once the building closed he would take me to his apartment so we could continue from there.  

It was a hook-up. A farewell to the failure of our relationship.

Once he makes me come undone, I will depart and never return.

In a trice, Nam-gyu’s nostrils flared as fury licked his dark orbs. His breaths became ragged, causing his chest to deflate and inflate in rapid rhythms that still simmer with control, and his face was stone-cold with a lingering vibration that screamed authority upon this situation.

Of his silence for a moment, I had the deliberation that he would leave me hanging sans doing something to complete my plan — to give me the upper hand and the satisfaction. But when his fingers curled inside me and deeper than previously, it settled in me that Nam-gyu was letting me win.

He pushed them in and out of me while our eyes were locked, and my lips parted in silent moans. With each second, my warm walls were clamping down his fingers like a vise, the craving to reach my climax more potent than ever.

By my eagerness, he picked his pace up, and dipping his head once again he sucked my clit hard. The sensitive bud was either flicked by his tongue or his teeth were lightly biting at it and when he noticed my legs starting to sake by his assault, he changed motive.

Replacing his fingers with his mouth, Nam-gyu was tongue-fucking me as his hands hooked around my legs to bring me closer to his face.

Conversely, one of my hands had been placed beneath my head while the other one was at his head — pushing him harder against my opening. My nails were scraping his skull and a low groan of his vibrated through me.

It was such a euphoria that I never wanted it to end. A Nirvana I never experienced before… Somehow it felt quite bitter when I knew it wasn’t a situation that would last, no matter how much I begged to maintain.

A pinch of my clit and his tongue being shoved in my pussy was all it took for me to cry out and my fluids to coat his lips and chin. My breaths had now turned uneven, the high I was entrapped had me spinning and seeing stars.

Our gazes never strayed from each other and the dim LED lights of the private room gave me a slight glimpse of my glistening arousal on his lips. Peculiarly, such a spectacle that was displayed in front of me made me wonder if I ever would be able to find a man so spellbinding as him.

A man who still shines with handsomeness notwithstanding the flaws that corrupt him whole.

Slowly or rather cagily, I took his hand and sucked his coated fingers clean. His eyes followed the movement of my pink tongue swirling around them as if what I was sucking was his veiny cock, and my Louboutin heel was planted on his sternum.

Letting his fingers with a pop, I pushed him harshly on the floor straddling him with my hips. Bewilderment overpowered his features when I reached for his belt.

He always was my Dom, though this time I will be the one to ruin him and ravish him.

Like an expert, I unbuckled the leather material around his waist, the sound of it snapping from his jeans’ loops, having him gasp silently. Smirking in his way, I seductively bent over my torso, my hot breath grazing over the shell of his ear.

“Wrap it around your throat.”

I could feel his body stiffen beneath me, a body language that spoke louder than words that signified he hated being controlled. Yet the tightness of the center of his trousers and hips slightly raising to dry hump my wet pussy was a hint that there was some liking at my sudden dominance.

Reluctantly, he took the belt and placed it around his neck giving me now the initiative to loop it through the buckle and pull it tight. So tight that the metal bit into his skin as the belt constricted.

Nam-gyu choked and his back arched as panic flashed before his vision, thus a single caress of my hand down to his cheekbone and a soothing voice, his muscles relaxed.

“Relax. You can breathe.”

With one hand now holding the edge of the belt like a leash, my other one found the zipper of his trousers and undone it, my palm pressed hard against the swollen of his manhood.

He was bigger than the average size, having my core skated with dark desires. I wanted his dick inside me, the sensation of being filled compelling me to move quicker and hastily. Without any further ado, I pulled out his swollen length from the waistband of his boxers, and giving a few strokes of my palm — while my thumb traced his pre-cum — I then rubbed it up and down my coated folds.

Soon, I sink into him, taking bit by bit every inch and my eyes roll at the back of my head as my opening burns at the sudden stretch of his thick length.

Once he was fully inside me, both of us groaned in unison.

“Y/N…” He growled once my hips started rocking against him. He attempted to grab and guide them with a more brutal bounce but a single tug of the belt restrained his efforts.

“Patience is the key, Nam-gyu. So be a good boy and take what I’m giving you.” Throwing his words back in his face, something dark gleamed in his eyes.

Beaming in his way, my hand was placed against his strong chest for stability and continued bouncing on his cock, as my head was lolled back. My pussy was basically screaming for another orgasm — to be filled with his cum and leave the room like a dirty whore.

The sound of skin hitting skin bloomed into the dim room, our panting breaths the melody in our silence.

Every unused muscle in me was aching with such intense hip movement, my eyes stinging in tears as my folds creamed and squeezed him. The orgasm wasn’t far afield and leaning to his way, I sucked the quick pulse in his neck. Lapping up his sweat and aroma that smelled like cigarettes, my lips crashed into his. I could taste myself on his tongue and like a grinding woman, I sucked it, fought it with my own, and flicked his bottom lip before ravishing it between my front teeth.

The taste of coppery was inserted into my mouth and I swear I could feel his erection growing even larger at the roughness my nature provides.

What I was doing was a silent message that tonight he was all mine. Mine to devour and mine to ruin. For one last time until another female has him as her own.

Soon my whole body had been paralyzed as the orgasm hit me like a thunderclap. I arched my back, driving my climax until the very end.

It surprised me when his hand snaked around my nape and pulled me once again for a kiss — with the difference that it was now softer and more loving. There was no rush between us and as we were breathing in each other’s pants, I released the belt.

His thumb wiped the red lipstick that I’m damn sure was now smudged and we looked at each other debating if we should withdraw or remain in this position for eternal eon.

Regrettably, his phone rang and he rolled his eyes in irritation.

“Sorry,” Nam-gyu apologized as I rolled over, already feeling the emptiness between my legs.

But it didn’t vex me when I found out that the one who was calling him was no other but his friend, Thanos. It troubled me when a card fell from the pockets of his jacket while he pulled out his phone.

A card with three shapes in the center. One circle, one triangle, and one square.

Since he was busy with the call, he didn’t notice that it had fallen out nor how my face paled at the sight. Because that card was no stranger to my eyes since I already had one.

[luselih]

Another new tumblr page! Welcome welcome!

I was wondering your thoughts on some of the Bleach captains with a very petite s/o? Think like… 4’8 - 5’2 , teeny tiny lil things. Someone who “looks” frail at first glance. Is someone smaller their type? Would that factor into any pursuit? 👀 You can go into NSFW territory if you like, but I’d be happy with SFW too!

miniature love(r) || gotei 13

summary/ask: bleach captains with tiny/petite s/o! (height underneath 5’2 / 157 cm tall)

content warnings | manga spoilers!!, separated in sfw/nsfw, sfw- mostly fluff (a little bit of angst) and my personal opinions of them having tiny fem s/o, teasing, kissing and physical affection, mentions of kids and domestic life, i think that’s it for this part, nsfw - so smut of course (minors dni), fem! reader, neutral skin color reader, yapping too much about kinks ,size kink go BRRRRR, oral (receiving), different sex positions, wlw!!, overstimulation, breeding + pregnancy + kids mentioned, mentions after care + more…

a/n - #1 i am actually using tumblr last 3 years but i just recently got back into writing lol and you got my european ass to convert those feet’s and inches to centimeters, 😦 i am like 5’8-9 feet ( around 175 cm-ish tall ) so please if i didn’t get a good point in this writing im sorry 😭, didn’t write for old man Yama, sorry not sorry honestly, he’s best grandpa tho <3

#2 also to say i wrote for captains in that picture (start of tybw lineup) if you are interested in past/future captains please send me a request! i don’t mind doing them later on~ Toshiro is aged up (grown up/him using his complete bankai)!

SFW!

Suì-Fēng is interesting one since she is not the tallest one (as tall as 150 cm (4'11")) definitely so she is leaning more into taller or at least average sized ones. However i don’t think she minds someone around her height, they can get each other struggles and solve then like you climbing on her shoulders to get a food from a high cabinet in a kitchen or gets in a tiny space together comfortably, yeah i think she is content with it!

Rōjūrō Ōtoribashi would like to have someone dandy on his side, dressing you up in fancy clothes and accessories. Having you as his dress up doll at home~ (sorry this is dry, i don’t like his characters that much lol)

Retsu (Yachiru) Unohana isn’t that tall either being 159 cm (5'2½") tall but her terrifying aura so there is no one pick on you and definitely not her in entire Seireitei so that’s nice <3 However i see her personal preference is someone taller but she also doesn’t mind having “a puppy” following her in free time ;)

Shinji Hirako, this little shit of a man would tease you till a day you die, picking on you as you are just trying to do your job or just passing by, he would put just get your paperwork and lift it that his lanky ass could reach and stuck his tongue out at you, eventually giving in and giving it back with a playful grin and a kiss on a side of your cheek as a apology, saying he won’t tease you again and then teasing you AGAIN not even an hour later 🤦‍♀️

Byakuya Kuchiki would honestly prefer someone who is tiny imo, that has already been proven right since he was with Hisana who is most likely same size as Rukia so there is no doubt. As a head of a clan he likes the feeling that his dearest could rely on him in anything, call it whatever you want but it brings him a sense of something he lost once and he is not planning to lose it again.

Sajin Komamura is TALLEST one 288 cm (9'5½") so as i said he would be probably more found of someone taller or average sized…however! that’s doesn’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy having you around, in both of his forms he would carry you bridal style at late night hours or when Seireitei is empty so you two could have your time without having a fear of being judged or made fun of because of your appearances.

Shunsui Kyōraku, this man hoe likes every woman. He is a proud women lover. He loves any shape, size and complexion in women, he would absolutely adore having you close to him anywhere, especially in his bed late at night as he brushes your wedding rings together :)

Kensei Muguruma is on a more neutral side since i can see him wanting a tall and strong s/o he can fight and train with, but something in me is telling me that he’s a traditional man, he likes to be needed and wanted, be able to stood out in front of you proud, strong and straight to protect you.

Tōshirō Hitsugaya would finally be relieved that there is another person that is small, he’s so mf tiny that you are just maybe slightly taller than him anyway, in his true bankai form he’s around Byakuya’s height so he just might indulge himself into telling you a slight teasing comment, yeah i think he would like someone tiny to match him-

Kenpachi Zaraki would have a smaller s/o without a need for you to be smaller than an average woman in height, he’s like tall-tall, strong and intimidating compared with every race anyway. However i do have a feeling that he would like to have someone so dandy and small like Yachiru since she is a practically a part of his soul so he is found of tiny and cute things. Since his little Yachiru left ( :( ) you had become one who would sit on his shoulder as you two have to go anywhere, imo he probably wishes that one day if you two had a little kid together that it would be little girl who is his eyes is a little Yachiru who you two take care of, but this one have a little eyes just like yours and he likes that very much <3

Mayuri Kurotsuchi, this is weird one because i can see him not really having a type? He barely likes anyone, yet your tiny ass got underneath his skin and now you are here for him. Following him as you two raise Nemuri together, you 3 now looking like a real family!

Jūshirō Ukitake :( gosh i love him so much, anyway he is so nice with you, since you both are physically not very strong, it would make it easy but he fears he couldn’t protect you in time because of his fragile body :( yeah, can definitely see him with tiny s/o <3

NSFW!

Suì-Fēng - i think she loves classic scissoring as you two play w each other’s clits, can’t go well with that one and also, just sit on her face when she’s angry and don’t you dare to put only 10 percents of your body weight on her, fucking sit on it like a chair and let her spend her big mouth on a good job between your legs~

Rōjūrō Ōtoribashi - into Dacryphilia, absolutely loves when you get all pretty and dolled up especially in tiny dress, Pretzel Dip or missionary as you cry from overstimulation, looking so ruined and perfect just for him <3

Retsu (Yachiru) Unohana - man, if you haven’t died when she showed a 8 inch strap up your vagina and fucked you like she hate your guts you are good 👍 anyway, she fucking loves when you ride her or when she puts you in a mating press, absolutely filthy as she splits in your mouth you just because. ( she had a secret breeding kink but shush 🤫 don’t say you heard it from me, also i got some trans!Unohana thoughs, anyone interested in hearing it? comment down please!)

Shinji Hirako - he’s such a meanie in bed too ☹️, i mean he would literally yank you back by your ankle and continue giving you head with his pierced tongue, gosh the overstimulation is crazyyyy with him. Absolutely loves snuggling after it and his hand sliding on your side gently as it went to tease your kitty cat AGAIN-

Byakuya Kuchiki - he must be in love w you if he brings you to his bed so missionary or any position where he can see your face and kiss it is a must, he makes love with you and genuinely only fuckes you if he is jealous or mad, probably have a savior kinks/hints of it sometimes + soft kisses down your back as he praises you after 🥹

Sajin Komamura - (human version) when you two have sex he can’t help but to have a need to make you his because of wolf genetics in him so pretzel dip or prone bone are his favorite positions to make your tiny mind mindless as he might just cums inside if you especially in spring 🤭

Shunsui Kyōraku - loves cowgirl/any version of it so he doesn’t have to do too much at least at the start, see you bouncing on top of his cook as it’s tip bullies your cervix is a fever dream, pressing against your lower back or tummy just for your pussy get a death grip on his dick, isn’t fully interested in pulling out so pregnancy is inevitable sooner or later my dear 🫡

Kensei Muguruma - he is a simple man so he goes doggy or full nelson, fucks to fucks and myb slightly into bondage?? absolutely makes you squirt by fingering you, hate sex??? he absolutely demolish your poor pussy if you flirt w Shinji or Rose, he will kiss your forehead after it tho <3

Tōshirō Hitsugaya - (grown up version) doesn’t have that high of a sex drive but he adores you so he indulge into your horny cravings of him, loves spooning or Scissoring (just mlw) so he can kiss your shoulders or forehead as he for sure makes you cum couple of times at end of the night, secretly loves cookwarming but shushhh 🫢

Kenpachi Zaraki - actually fuckes you in every position possible and everywhere you can imagine, loves stand and deliver (The Bicycle position) as he is chocking you while pounding into your tight kitty, your bodies only stability is his arm that you are gripping for dear life and yes, he isn’t pulling out since he say so <3

Mayuri Kurotsuchi - doesn’t have that high of sex drive but he would absolutely make you deepthroath his length if you are bratty enough, probably some doctor/patient roleplay, people of Seireitei are scared to see his genuine smile if they see a little girl with both of your features??

Jūshirō Ukitake - my sweet man can only had cow girl/variations + missionary sex position with you so he doesn’t finish too soon, absolutely PERFECT with his fingers and has a praise kink so absolutely praise the living shit out of him as you make love underneath the moonlight all night long so he can be happy <333