#but i think its the kind of familiar she needed
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Note
So I was thinking if youâre taking requests maybe a Em x reader where sheâs plus size, theyâve been friends for a while and someone makes a comment making fun of her weight or how Em would never be with someone like her & reader overhears Emâs confession/response? In need for a happy ending type of fic.
Kinktober - Day 20 - Size Difference
Kinktober 2024 Masterlist
A/N : thank you for your request ! I think it fights right with the Kinktober Day 20 prompt, which is ÂŤÂ Size Difference . I hope you enjoy it đ.
CW : Size difference - Plus sized reader - Fluff
The dining room was warm and buzzing with laughter and chatter as the evening settled into its comfortable rhythm. Marshall sat beside you, leaning back with that familiar, laid-back posture, fingers idly tapping the edge of his glass as he listened to some story being told across the table. You felt a flicker of contentment just sitting beside him, enjoying the moment. You loved a good dinner party : great food and good company. It was even better when Marshall was around : his humor and playful remarks were always the cherry on the cake. The two of you had been friends for years, your bond built on banter and that magnetic, unspoken understanding. There was a spark, sure, but you had always kind of danced around it, knowing it was always there, like a half-breath between you. It was playful and fun but, at the end of the day, he was him and you were, well, you. And even though you sometimes thought of how great it might be if the friendship turned into something more, you were simply grateful to be in his presence.
At one point during the dinner, you excused yourself to step outside, needing a breath of fresh air and maybe just a moment alone. As you headed for the balcony, you didnât realize that your absence would become the focal point of a conversation youâd never intended to overhear. Marshall was taking a sip of his drink when he heard one of his friends, that you had not crossed paths with too often, chuckle, glancing toward the door you had just passed through.
âSo, uh, whatâs the deal between you and Y/N?â the guy asked, with that tone that conveyed his thought on your friendship, probably deeming unlikely. After all, most people wouldnât expect one of the most successful rappers to be such good friends with a female, much less one that did not look like a Victoriaâs Secret model. Marshallâs brow furrowed at the question. âWeâve been friends for a while. Why?â The guy shrugged, giving a half-smile. âNothing, man. Iâm just surprised. Thought youâd go for, you knowâŚâ He motioned vaguely with his hand. âSomeone more yourâŚsize.â
Marshallâs eyes narrowed, but the guy kept going, oblivious. âLook, she's nice, sure, but I meanâ she might get the wrong idea and think thereâs something there. And, well, sheâs not exactlyâŚ. In your league, you know what Iâm saying?â A heaviness dropped in your chest. You didnât mean to overhear a conversation you were obviously not privy to. You could feel your eyes starting to burn. How humiliating. Youâd left your seat for a minute and people were making fun of you. Right when you thought you were having a great time. You stayed on the balcony, looking away, pretending not to hear anything, hoping the conversation would end soon, so that you could go back to your seat and pretend that nothing happened. You didnât see Marshall glance toward the balcony door. âYeah,â Marshall said, his tone cold, âyouâre right.â
You could feel your heart drop. Of course you knew that Marshall was out of your league. Anyone could see that. And you knew he knew it too. But to hear him acknowledge it, as simple as that, it still hurt. You would have hoped heâd at least defend you and say what a great friend you were. You could feel a lump form in your throat, before he continued. âSheâs way out of my league.â Marshallâs voice softened as he glanced back toward the balcony door. âSheâs the kind of woman whoâs smart and hilarious, whoâs real and doesnât fake a damn thing. Sheâs gorgeous and incredible andâwell, you wouldnât get it. Someone like her?â He paused, letting the words sink in. âSheâd never go for someone like me.â
The guy stammered, clearly at a loss for words. âBut I mean, what is it that you actually see in her?â Marshall shook his head, a glint of disbelief in his eyes as he looked his friend square in the face. âWhat do I see in her?â He gave a small laugh. âEverything. I mean, have you seen her?â
You thought you were about to cry from the humiliation, but then you heard Marshallâs voice, steady and honest, filling in every corner of doubt sheâd ever had. By the time he finished, your cheeks felt hot. There was a moment of silence and you decided to come back. You took a deep breath, calming your nerves, and approached the table, quietly slipping back into your seat beside him. Marshall glanced over, flashing her that signature, knowing smile, like you were his favorite person to see across the room. The conversation switched to another topic, moving on to some workplace gossip.
Without a word, you reached under the table and found his hand. His fingers stilled for a beat, then curled around yours, his thumb tracing a gentle pattern on your skin, like heâd been waiting for this moment as much as you had. He looked over, and your eyes met, a silent understanding passing between you, deeper than words. âOut of your league, huh?â You whispered, your voice a mixture of teasing and something softer, more serious. He squeezed your hand gently, his demeanor oddly calm though you could see a flicker of anticipation in his eyes. âWay, way out of my league,â he murmured, a slow, genuine smile spreading across his face.
You both focused on the table conversation, but neither of you could actually keep your attention from straying to the connection between your hands, fingers gently toying and tracing each other. Every once in a while, Marshallâs thumb would brush across your knuckles, a delicate and unhurried stroke that sent little shivers up your arm. You bit your lip, suppressing a smile, feeling your cheeks warm under the subtle, unspoken affection radiating from him. At one point, he leaned back casually, still holding your hand beneath the table, and threw in one of his usual sarcastic comments at something one of your friends said. But as he spoke, he lightly drew circles against your palm, his fingers grazing yours with a mix of playfulness and tenderness. It felt like a secret only the two of you shared, a silent language spoken in touch instead of words. You risked a glance at him, your eyes catching his for the briefest moment. He was mid-sentence, but when he saw you look, he shot you a crooked smile, raising one eyebrow in that mischievous way of his. He gave your hand another gentle squeeze, like he was saying, âIâve got you.â
Your friends seemed oblivious, absorbed in their own conversations, while you and Marshall seemed to exist in your own bubble, a world of hidden smiles and quiet gestures. With each minute that passed, your confidence in this unspoken connection grew, and your touches became bolder. His hand slipped down to your wrist, feeling the steady rhythm of your pulse, while you traced your fingertips along the callouses on his, each touch a little thrill that left you wanting more. By dessert, you were leaning in just a little closer, your shoulder brushing his as you exchanged quick, playful whispers and comments about the eveningâs conversations. The closeness of him, the warmth of his hand in yours, all made your heart pound in a way that was intoxicating.
Finally, as the evening wound down, people beginning to gather coats and say goodbyes, Marshall gave your hand one last squeeze, holding your gaze in a look that spoke volumes. As you stepped into the elevator, the doors sliding shut, the quiet tension that had been building all night seemed to close in around you. The moment you were alone, it was as though the air became charged, the silence between the two of you suddenly thick with every unspoken word and lingering look youâd shared at the dinner table.
You leaned back against the wall of the elevator, your breath catching as Marshall took a step closer. His gaze roamed over you, clearly taking in the way your dress hugged your curves, accentuating every line, every dip. He looked at you like he couldnât tear his eyes away if he tried, and your pulse quickened, your body responding to the heat in his stare. He raised a hand, his fingers brushing along your cheek, trailing down to your jaw, gentle but deliberate. His voice was a low, warm rumble, barely above a whisper. âYouâre so damn gorgeous, you know that?â You felt your cheeks flush, your lips parting, but before you could say anything, his mouth was on your, soft but insistent. The kiss was slow at first, like he was savoring every second, his hand slipping around to the back of your neck, holding you close as he deepened the kiss.
Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie as you pulled him closer, letting yourself get lost in the feeling of his mouth against yours, the warmth of his body pressing into you. She could taste the faint hint of Diet Coke on his lips, feel the steady beat of his heart against your fingertips, and it made your head spin. Marshallâs hands slid down, resting on your hips, pulling you against him, his touch possessive yet tender. His lips moved to your jaw, then to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that made you melt against him, your breath coming quicker with each soft, lingering touch. âYou have no ideaâŚâ he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with desire. âNo idea how beautiful you are.â
His hand traced down your side, following the curve of your waist, fingers exploring every dip and line as though committing you to memory. You arched into him, your own hands roaming up to his shoulders, feeling the strength in him, the tension just beneath the surface. When he looked at you again, his eyes were filled with an intensity that made your knees weak. He brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb grazing your cheek as he leaned in once more, capturing your mouth in another kiss that was deeper, needier. The world outside the elevator ceased to exist; there was only the warmth of his touch, the soft hum of the elevator, and the way he made you feel, like you were the only woman in the world.
#eminem fanfiction#eminem x reader#marshall mathers x reader#eminem fluff#marshall mathers imagine#eminem imagine#eminem kinktober#kinktober 2024#kinktober prompts
52 notes
¡
View notes
Note
Hey! If your taking requests, I love your work so much and I had an idea I would really love to see how you execute it.
So it would be with Tony Stark, and if its okay Male!Reader, but not romantic, the reader is a teen who is a product of some old fling Tony had and after being poorly taken care of by his mom (whatever that inclines you to write, abuse, bad boyfriend, alcoholism etc.) She dumps him off at stark tower with a note and what little belongings the reader has and his birth certificate to Tony for him to take care of. And the rest of what happens from there is up to you! Basically heavy on the found family troupe, and a little angst with some good fluff. The reader can be from 16-18 still in high school. He has Tony's sarcastic humor and smarts, but he nodes his intelligence because his mom never really helped him appreciate it, basically one of those kids that gets straight A's without seemingly trying and looking kind of stupid, the reader is quiet and a bit cold but that's because of how he was raised, and isn't one to share how he's feeling. If you can do this I'd be so thankful, if not its completely understandable, I hope I gave you enough creative liberty to make it fun, I know it'll be great if you do write it! Again I love your fics so much and I can't wait to read more of what you have!!đâş
LEGACY
⤡ ANTHONY âTONYâ E. STARK
áŻâ
Pairing: Anthony âTonyâ E. Stark x male!reader
áŻâ
Genre: platonic!, a lot of angst and some fluff
áŻâ
Request from: normal request
áŻâ
Story type: one shot
áŻâ
Word count: 5.5k
áŻâ
Summary: literally what the ask said
áŻâ
TW(s): mentions of abusive household and rader feeling like people keep abandoning him
áŻâ
Thank you so much for your request and for liking my work! <3
áŻâ
My Masterlist
áŻâ
MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!
áŻâ
Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)
áŻâ
MARVEL Bingo
áŻâ
English isnât my first language
Your whole life, youâve never known stability. The cramped apartments, the ever-shifting walls painted in hues of desperation, are as familiar to you as your own skin. Youâre seventeen now, but you still feel like youâre stuck in this never-ending carousel of uncertainty and survival. Your momâwhoâs always been more into herself than anyone elseâhas a way of shoving her problems under the rug, sweeping you along with the mess until youâre barely holding it together.
Her boyfriendâif you could even call him thatâis the latest problem. Travis is the kind of guy who doesnât need to say much to make his point clear. Itâs in the way he takes up space, fills every room with his presence, making himself the center of your lives as if itâs his right. He started coming around when you were fourteen, and itâs only gotten worse. You know he hates you, and he doesnât even try to hide it. To him, youâre a nuisance, some extra baggage he never asked for, and heâs got no problem reminding you of that. Your sarcasm and quick wit, the things that make you, you, are just more reasons for him to snap, roll his eyes, or call you ungrateful.
Your momâs always beenâŚcomplicated. Youâve known that since you were little, watching her go from one relationship to another, always searching for some kind of validation she never seems to find. She calls herself a free spirit, but itâs like sheâs just drifting, lost in a fog of her own making. She can be fun, sure, when things are good. There were even moments when you thought she really loved you. But as time went on, you learned to read the signs: the distant glances, the subtle irritations, the way she avoids looking at you for too long, as if youâre some kind of mirror she doesnât want to face.
Itâs your intelligence that bugs her the most, you think. You see through her, every lie, every excuse, every careless decision. And she knows it. Itâs like looking into a warped mirrorâshe can see pieces of herself in you, but youâre everything sheâs never been: sharp, observant, with a mind that doesnât let things slide. And it grates on her.
The fights get worse as you grow older, each one escalating faster than the last. Your sarcasm is your armor, your way of dealing with the endless cycle of disappointment. But every quip, every clever retort, only makes her angrier. You can tell she hates that she canât control you, canât manipulate you the way she does with everyone else in her life. She calls you difficult, a burden, a mistake she shouldâve never had. You donât let it show, but each word leaves a scar, another reminder that youâre on your own.
Then one day, itâs too much. Travis and your mom are fightingâagain. Itâs loud, voices echoing in the small apartment, and youâre in your room, trying to block it out like usual. But this time, you hear your name. Youâve been in this situation enough to know thatâs never a good sign. So, you stay quiet, waiting, listening.
âYou know heâs not even mine, right?â Travis snaps, his voice dripping with frustration. âWhy do I have to put up with this kid? Heâs not my responsibility!â
âYou think I donât know that?â Your momâs voice is strained, like sheâs barely holding on herself. âIâve triedâGod, Iâve triedâbut heâs justâŚheâs too much. I canât handle it anymore.â
Thereâs a pause, and for a second, you think maybe sheâll say something else, something that makes it sound like she cares. But the words never come.
âThen get rid of him,â Travis says, so bluntly that it leaves a chill in the air. âYouâve got the kidâs birth certificate. Drop him off at his real dadâs. Heâs rich, isnât he? Let him deal with the brat.â
You donât move. You barely breathe. But deep down, you already know this is it. Thereâs no fighting it this time, no clever comment to deflect whatâs happening. Sheâs made her choice, and itâs not you.
The next morning, sheâs silent as she hands you an envelope. Thereâs no apology, no excuse, just a look that tells you sheâs already gone, checked out of whatever shred of motherhood she once claimed to have. You donât even ask where youâre going; you know the answer as soon as you see the address on the piece of paper.
Stark Tower.
It feels like a final act of cruelty, really. The man sheâs always refused to talk about, the one figure in your life whoâs only ever been a name, and now heâs your last option. Tony Stark. Genius, billionaire, Avenger. And, apparently, your father.
You stand outside Stark Tower with a single bag of your things and that stupid piece of paperâthe birth certificate thatâs somehow supposed to mean youâre his problem now. You feel like youâre stuck in some cosmic joke, a punchline to a story you didnât even know you were a part of. Thereâs no going back, though. Thatâs clear enough.
So, you take a deep breath, adjust your bag on your shoulder, and walk through the doors.
Tony doesnât even get a chance to process it at first. One moment heâs sipping coffee in his lab, deep in the flow of something unnecessarily complex thatâs keeping his mind busy, and the next, Pepper is calling him down to the lobby. She sounds irritated, stressedâlike maybe itâs his fault, which Tony wouldnât be surprised by, honestly. He heads down, muttering about "another hero here to tell me how to do my job."
Then he sees you.
Youâre leaning against the glass wall, wearing an expression thatâs somehow familiar yet entirely alien to him. Itâs not hard to recognize the mix of defiance and exhaustion in your eyes; heâs spent years perfecting that look himself. But the shock doesnât really hit until you hand him the birth certificate. Your name and his, right there in black and white, unavoidably real.
For once in his life, Tony Stark is speechless.
âSeventeen years,â he mutters, mostly to himself. âAnd now youâre here becauseâŚ?â
You shrug, clearly unimpressed. âMom didnât want me anymore, and apparently, youâre my dad. So⌠here I am. Congratulations.â
Youâre blunt, almost cruel in the way you say it, like you donât expect anything from him and donât care if you get it. But he canât look away from you. For the first time in a long time, heâs out of his depth. Heâs had seventeen years to know this was possible, maybe even inevitable, but standing in front of you, he realizes heâs never prepared himself for this. Heâs never thought about what it would mean to actually be a father.
Yet here you are, standing in front of him with your motherâs words still hanging over you, and he can see the weight you carry in the way your shoulders are always tense, the way your eyes donât quite meet his.
âWell, kid,â he says after a beat, plastering on his most confident smile, âlooks like youâve officially joined the Stark family. Thereâs no going back now.â
Over the next few days, Tony throws himself into fatherhood with all the enthusiasm of someone tackling a new, challenging invention. Heâs reading parenting books, taking advice from anyone whoâll give it, and trying desperately to crack the code of how to be a âcool dad.â He lets you explore Stark Tower freely, offers you access to his entire workshop, and even builds you a custom tablet, âStark-style,â he brags, with enough advanced tech to impress even the most skeptical teenager.
He talks to you about science, testing your knowledge and realizing with a mix of pride and horror that youâre nearly as sharp as he was at seventeen. He tries to make jokes, throwing out sarcastic one-liners he assumes will win you over. Sometimes, he even manages to get a smirk out of you. But thatâs as far as it ever goes.
Every attempt he makes is met with your icy wall, a defense mechanism built after years of disappointment and neglect. You listen, nod occasionally, but never laugh or even show interest. The most he ever gets out of you is a dry, deadpan âcool,â which is enough to keep him going but never enough to satisfy him.
Tony tries not to take it personally, but itâs hard. Youâre right there, his kid, yet youâre worlds away, keeping him at armâs length as if heâs just another adult you canât trust. He catches glimpses of the sarcasm, the intelligence, but itâs wrapped up in layers of resentment and guarded detachment. Youâre always cool, always distant, and he knows why, but that doesnât make it any easier.
One evening, he sits you down with a grin, tossing a shiny, compact device into your hands. Itâs sleek, metallicâone of his newer designs.
âMini reactor prototype. Youâd be the first to use it.â He says it with pride, like heâs giving you something no one else in the world could get.
You look at it for a moment, then at him. âCool,â you say again, but your voice is flat, unimpressed. You set it on the table between you without another glance.
Tonyâs grin falters, and he lets out a frustrated laugh. âYouâre a tough crowd, you know that?â
You just shrug, giving him that practiced blank stare heâs come to know well. Heâs finally reaching his breaking point. âYâknow, Iâm trying here,â he says, exasperated. âIâm trying to⌠I donât know, connect. Be⌠whatever it is you need me to be. But youâre acting like Iâm just another stranger.â
You pause, considering him for a moment, and something shifts in your expressionâlike maybe, for just a second, you see his effort. But then your face goes neutral again, back to that familiar shield.
âMaybe thatâs because you are,â you reply, voice quiet, almost too soft for him to hear.
Tony feels the blow, but he hides it with a forced chuckle. âFair enough,â he says, though thereâs a sting in his voice. âI canât change the past, but⌠Iâm here now. Iâm not gonna just⌠walk away.â
The words linger between you, both of you knowing the weight they carry. Youâve heard promises like this before. Youâve heard them from your mother, from people who were supposed to care, and each one of those promises had turned hollow, leaving you more alone than before. So, when Tony looks at you with genuine sincerity, with a hope that youâll give him a chance, all you can do is nod, burying any flicker of vulnerability.
As the weeks go on, Tony keeps trying. He brings you into the lab with him, walks you through his latest projects, even lets you experiment with some of the tech yourself. He drags you to burger joints at midnight, tries to coax out stories about school, hobbies, anything. Sometimes you let your guard slip, offering a sarcastic remark, a comment that makes him laughâbut the moment always passes too quickly, and youâre back behind that wall before he can push any further.
Heâs persistent, though, and thereâs a part of you that almost wants to give in, that wants to believe him. But your trust is a muscle you havenât used in so long, it feels impossible to start now. So, you keep him at bay, deflecting his kindness, giving him just enough to satisfy his efforts without letting him in.
Tony doesnât quit, though. He keeps showing up, every day, every night, and for the first time in your life, you donât feel like someoneâs just waiting for the moment they can leave.
Every morning, Tony insists on driving you to school, and itâs nothing short of a spectacle. He shows up outside Stark Tower in one of his many luxury cars, honking loudly, practically begging for attention. Itâs become a routine, one you canât escape no matter how many times you roll your eyes or tell him he doesnât have to do it. Heâs always got some snarky excuse, saying things like, âItâs my job as a dad,â or âI just want to see the kid off,â as if anyone believes he actually cares about high school protocol.
And everyone notices. Whispers trail behind you as you walk the halls, classmates youâve known for years suddenly gawking at you like youâre a different person. They donât know you as you anymore; they know you as Tony Starkâs kid. Itâs suffocating. Youâve spent your entire life trying to stay unnoticed, to blend into the background. Now, no matter where you go, everyoneâs waiting for you to crack a joke like him, to show off some kind of Stark-level genius.
Only one person seems to still see you, really see youâyour best friend, Sam. Youâve known him since middle school, back when everything was simpler, when no one knew or cared who your dad was. Heâs the only one who doesnât treat you any differently now, the only person you actually trust enough to talk to about any of this.
One afternoon, youâre sitting outside on the bleachers with Sam, trying to ignore the fact that Tonyâs car is already parked by the curb, waiting for you. The other students eye it like some exotic animal they donât quite understand, but you keep your head down, just hoping the day will end without any more awkward questions or judgmental stares.
Sam nudges you. âSo, uh⌠you still giving the old man the cold shoulder, huh?â
You sigh, avoiding his gaze. âIâm not giving him the cold shoulder. Iâm just⌠keeping my distance.â
He rolls his eyes. âDude, I see you with him every morning. The man looks like heâs about to recite the Gettysburg Address just to get a smile out of you. And youâre over here acting like he doesnât exist.â
You shift uncomfortably, crossing your arms. âHeâs only doing it because he feels obligated, Sam. Itâs Tony Stark. He doesnât actually care about me.â
Sam raises an eyebrow. âYou really believe that? You think heâs the kind of guy whoâd waste his time on someone he doesnât care about?â
You donât answer, but you can feel Samâs eyes on you, cutting through all your defenses. Heâs always been able to read you better than anyone, and right now, thatâs the last thing you want.
âHeâs trying, Y/N,â Sam continues, his voice softer. âLike, really trying. And I get it. I get that youâve been burned, but⌠maybe give him a chance? Just talk to him. Itâs not like heâs gonna run off if you tell him whatâs going on.â
You look away, jaw clenched as you try to shake off the knot of emotion tightening in your chest. You donât want to admit that Sam might be right. Letting someone in, giving someone a chanceâthatâs always been a dangerous game, one youâre not sure you can afford to play again.
That night, youâre lying awake in your room, staring at the ceiling, Samâs words playing on a loop in your mind. The silence around you feels heavy, pressing down on you, and you canât shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, you owe Tony more than youâve been giving him. Youâve seen his effort, the way he tries to connect with you, even when you push him away. Heâs there, every day, waiting for you, and no one has ever done that before.
Something shifts in you, a kind of tired resignation, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you get up and head downstairs to his workshop.
Tonyâs hunched over a table, tinkering with some gadget, and he barely notices you at first. Itâs only when you clear your throat that he looks up, surprise flickering across his face before he masks it with a smile.
âHey, kid,â he says, setting down his tools. âCouldnât sleep?â
You shrug, suddenly feeling the weight of what youâre about to say. âYeah, I just⌠I wanted to talk to you about something.â
He raises an eyebrow, a mixture of curiosity and concern on his face. He gestures to a nearby chair. âGo ahead. Iâm all ears.â
You sit, staring at your hands as you try to find the right words. For a long time, thereâs only silence between you, the air thick with tension. Finally, you take a deep breath, forcing yourself to speak.
âI know Iâve been⌠difficult,â you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. âAnd I know youâre trying. Itâs just⌠itâs not easy for me.â
Tony watches you intently, not interrupting, his expression softer than youâve ever seen it. You look down, focusing on your hands, the words spilling out before you can stop them.
âWhen I was a kid, my mom was all I had. I thought⌠I thought she cared about me, even if she didnât always show it. But she changed, especially after she started seeing this guy. Travis. He wasnât⌠he wasnât a good person, Tony. He⌠he made sure I knew I wasnât wanted.â Your voice breaks slightly, but you push through it, feeling the old wounds tear open. âHe told me I was a burden, that I was just in the way. And my mom, she⌠she just let it happen. She barely even looked at me by the end.â
Tonyâs face darkens, his jaw clenched as he listens, but he stays silent, letting you continue.
âI learned not to trust people,â you say, voice wavering. âEvery time I thought someone would stick around, they didnât. So I stopped⌠I stopped letting people in. I told myself it was easier that way.â
You look up at him, and for the first time, thereâs no mask, no shieldâjust raw vulnerability, something you havenât allowed yourself to feel in years.
âAnd then I showed up here,â you say, your voice barely a whisper now. âAnd you⌠you keep trying. You keep showing up, every day, like you actually care. And itâs⌠itâs confusing, okay? Because part of me wants to believe it, but the other partâŚâ You trail off, wiping away a tear that slips down your cheek.
Tony doesnât hesitate. He reaches over, placing a hand on your shoulder, grounding you, letting you know heâs there. âY/N,â he says softly, his voice rough with emotion. âI canât change what you went through. I canât go back and fix it, as much as I wish I could. But Iâm here now, and Iâm not going anywhere.â
You meet his gaze, and thereâs something in his eyes that youâve never seen beforeâa fierce, unwavering resolve that feels almost foreign. You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words sink in, feeling the tiniest flicker of hope spark to life.
âItâs not easy for me,â you murmur. âItâs⌠itâs hard for me to trust people. And I know Iâm not the easiest person to be around. But⌠I want to try. I want to believe you. I just⌠I need you to be patient with me. I need you to not give up on me.â
Tony nods, his hand still resting on your shoulder, steady and reassuring. âHey,â he says, his voice breaking a little. âIâm not giving up on you, kid. Not now, not ever. Youâre my son, and Iâm here for the long haul. However long it takes, okay?â
The words settle around you, a warmth you havenât felt in years. You donât have to say anything; he seems to understand, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before he lets go. And in that moment, something in you softens, just a little, like maybe you can let him in.
For the first time, you allow yourself to believe him, to believe that maybe he really wonât walk away. And even though the walls around your heart donât come down all at once, you feel them start to crack, piece by piece, letting a little light seep in.
After that night, things start to change. Itâs slow, gradual, like thawing ice, but thereâs a noticeable shift between you and Tony. Youâre still guarded, still wary of letting him all the way in, but he doesnât push. He just keeps showing up, every day, every night, just like he promised. And slowly, piece by piece, you let him in.
The first time you ask to work on something together, Tony practically beams. Youâre sitting at the kitchen counter with your physics homework in front of youânormally a breeze, something youâd get done in a few minutes. But today, youâve left a few problems untouched, hoping heâll notice.
Sure enough, Tony glances over your shoulder and raises an eyebrow. âNeed a hand with that?â he asks, and thereâs a careful lightness to his voice, like heâs trying to keep things casual, so he doesnât scare you off.
You shrug, trying to act indifferent. âSure, if youâve got time,â you say, even though both of you know you could solve this on your own without breaking a sweat. But Tony doesnât call you out on it. He just grabs a chair, pulls it over, and sits down next to you, leaning in to look at your work.
For the next hour, the two of you go over formulas and theories, his explanations coming with a few sarcastic quips and exaggerated hand gestures. Every so often, he goes off on a tangent, telling you stories about his own time in high school or sharing a strange fact he thinks will help you remember a concept. You listen, half-smiling at his antics, and eventually even throw in a few of your own sarcastic comments. You can tell heâs trying not to make a big deal out of it, but thereâs a spark in his eyes that tells you heâs thrilled to be here, helping you, no matter how small the reason.
As the days go by, you find yourself spending more and more time in Tonyâs workshop. It becomes your safe space, the place where you donât feel like you have to hide or put up walls. Tony lets you explore, handing you tools and explaining how they work, guiding you through his more complicated inventions. Itâs like learning a new language, one heâs eager to teach you, and heâs a surprisingly patient teacher.
One afternoon, heâs working on a new suit upgrade, and youâre watching, silently impressed by how smoothly he moves, how every action is precise and practiced. Youâre deep in thought when he glances over at you, smirking.
âThinking of joining the family business?â he jokes, tossing you a wrench. âIf youâre interested, I could always use an extra pair of hands.â
You catch the wrench, feeling a rare, genuine smile tug at the corners of your mouth. âMaybe I will,â you say, feeling a rush of warmth thatâs unfamiliar but not unwelcome.
He shows you how to tighten a piece of armor plating, explaining each step with a casual ease that you find yourself getting lost in. Thereâs something oddly comforting about the way he talks, like heâs sharing a secret only the two of you understand. And as you work, side by side, you realize that you actually look forward to these moments, the quiet companionship that comes from working together on something you both enjoy.
One evening, you catch yourself staring at your chemistry textbook, pages open to a particularly dull section on thermodynamics. Normally, youâd power through it on your own, but tonight, you feel the familiar tug of loneliness creeping in, and before you know it, youâre on your feet, heading down to Tonyâs lab.
When you reach the doorway, he looks up, surprised, then quickly wipes the expression off his face and pretends to be engrossed in his latest project. âWhatâs up?â he asks, as casually as he can manage.
You hold up the textbook, pretending to be annoyed. âThis stuff is terrible. Thought maybe you could explain it better than my teacher does.â
Tony raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. âWell, Iâm honored to know you think so highly of my teaching skills.â He gestures for you to sit down, and as you do, he starts flipping through the pages of your book. âThermodynamics, huh? You sure youâre not just here for the riveting conversation?â
You roll your eyes. âDonât flatter yourself.â
But you both know the truth, and thereâs an unspoken understanding between you as he dives into the material. He doesnât just lecture; he makes it a story, breaking down each concept with analogies, acting out scenarios, and throwing in enough jokes to keep you both entertained. You throw in questions just to keep him talking, just so you donât have to go back to your empty room just yet.
And somewhere along the way, you realize youâre not just learning about science. Youâre learning about himâabout his quirks, his sense of humor, the way he lights up when heâs talking about things heâs passionate about. Heâs not just Tony Stark, billionaire genius, Iron Man. Heâs⌠Tony, your dad, someone who, against all odds, actually seems to care about you.
Over time, you both fall into a rhythm. Tony starts waiting for you in the mornings, holding out a cup of coffee or hot chocolate, claiming he needs company on his drive to work. You never say it, but you look forward to those mornings, the way he fills the car with stories about his latest projects or about old college pranks he pulled that make you laugh in spite of yourself.
One day, youâre both hunched over a set of schematics in his lab, tossing ideas back and forth as you brainstorm a new design for a stabilizer that could potentially improve flight control in his suits. Youâre getting so into it that you forget to be guarded, throwing out suggestions, bouncing thoughts off each other in rapid-fire succession.
At one point, Tony stops, leaning back in his chair to look at you with a smirk. âYou know,â he says, a touch of pride in his voice, âyouâre pretty damn good at this. Got that Stark brain for sure.â
You feel a warmth spread through you, and for the first time, you donât brush it off. âMaybe,â you say, smiling despite yourself. âBut I guess it helps when you have a good teacher.â
Tony chuckles, but thereâs a glimmer of emotion in his eyes, something raw and unguarded. âYeah, well⌠youâre not a bad student either.â
Thereâs a moment of silence as the two of you look at each other, an understanding passing between you that doesnât need words. You know heâs trying, and somehow, that knowledge makes the walls around your heart crumble just a little bit more.
A few days later, youâre working on homework in the living room when Tony walks in, holding a set of blueprints heâs obviously excited about. But when he sees you bent over your books, he pauses, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
âHey, need some help?â he asks, raising an eyebrow.
You look up, raising an eyebrow back at him. âWith calculus? Pretty sure Iâve got this covered.â
He shrugs, feigning offense. âIâll have you know I was quite the calculus prodigy back in the day.â
âOh, yeah?â You smirk, half-teasing. âCare to prove it?â
Tony grins, and before you know it, heâs pulled up a chair, leaning over your work with the same intensity he brings to his inventions. You pretend to need help with a few problems, and heâs more than happy to guide you through them, throwing in jokes and sarcastic comments the whole way. Every so often, he nudges your shoulder, grinning like heâs just scored a victory when he catches you smiling.
Eventually, he lets out an exaggerated sigh. âWell, I think weâve both learned a lot today,â he says, stretching dramatically.
âYeah,â you reply, smirking. âLike the fact that youâre worse at calculus than I am.â
Tony gapes, clutching his chest in mock hurt. âUnbelievable. Betrayed by my own son. This is a new low.â
You chuckle, shaking your head, and for the first time, it feels easy. Comfortable. Like maybe, just maybe, you donât have to keep fighting him off.
âHey,â Tony says, his tone shifting to something softer. âThanks for letting me in. I know it wasnât easy.â
You meet his gaze, feeling that familiar vulnerability creeping in, but this time, you donât shy away. âThanks for not giving up,â you reply quietly. âI know Iâm not the easiest person to deal with.â
Tony chuckles, reaching over to ruffle your hair. âNah, youâre a piece of cake. Besides, Iâve got a lot of time to make up for.â
You smile, a real one this time, feeling a warmth settle in your chest. For the first time, you allow yourself to hope that maybe, just maybe, things are going to be okay.
Itâs supposed to be a routine mission. Just another intel-gathering run, in and out, with minimal risk. Tony had waved it off as no big deal before he left, throwing you a smirk and saying, âJust another day in the office.â But that was hours ago. And now, as you sit in the dim glow of the living room, watching the news report blaring on the screen, dread twists deep in your gut.
You watch the shaky footage of Iron Man fighting, and this time, itâs different. Heâs outnumbered, missiles tearing through the air, beams of energy slicing through the smoke and chaos. The news anchorâs voice breaks as they report the intensity of the fight, how Iron Man was last seen plunging out of the sky after a heavy hit. For a terrifying moment, you catch a glimpse of him falling, his suit battered, smoking, before the feed cuts out entirely.
Your heart stops, and a painful tightness fills your chest. The hours that follow are a blur of pacing, every second dragging longer than the last. Youâre used to him going out on missions, used to the danger that comes with being Tony Starkâs son. But this⌠this is different. This isnât the usual playful bravado, the usual cocky promises that heâll be home for dinner. This is life or death, and for the first time, youâre faced with the horrifying thought that he might not make it back.
After what feels like an eternity, the front door finally opens. You spin around, heart pounding, and there he is, looking worse for wear but alive. Heâs moving a bit stiffly, his armor scratched and dented, his face smudged with dirt and a few new cuts. But heâs here.
Before he can say a word, you rush toward him, the flood of relief hitting you so hard that you barely register the fact that youâre moving, throwing yourself into his arms. Your grip is tight, like if you let go, heâll disappear. You donât even realize youâre trembling until you feel his arms close around you, holding you just as tightly.
âHey, hey,â Tony says, his voice soft, touched with surprise but warm. âIâm okay, kid. Iâm here.â
You pull back just enough to look at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears, and heâs looking at you with an expression so full of gentle understanding that it makes you feel like a kid again, vulnerable and desperate. Without thinking, the word slips out, raw and unguarded.
âDadâŚâ you whisper, voice breaking slightly, âdonât ever⌠donât ever do that again. I thought⌠I thought I was going to lose you.â
Tonyâs face softens, his own eyes welling up. Heâs silent for a moment, as if heâs savoring the word, the weight of it finally hitting home. His hand comes up to rest on your shoulder, his grip firm but gentle, grounding you.
âIâm sorry,â he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. âI didnât mean to scare you like that. But Iâm here, okay? Iâm here, and Iâm not going anywhere.â
You nod, the tears slipping down your cheeks now, and Tony pulls you in again, holding you tightly, his hand running gently over your back. Itâs the first time youâve let yourself fully embrace him, the first time youâve allowed yourself to lean into his strength, to accept the warmth heâs been trying so hard to offer. And as you stand there, held in his arms, a sense of peace settles over you, soft and comforting, melting the last of your walls away.
After a long moment, he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, a tear slipping down his own cheek as he smiles, eyes bright. âYou called me âDad,ââ he says softly, his voice full of wonder, as if heâs just received the greatest gift in the world.
You give a small, watery smile, wiping at your eyes. âYeah, well⌠donât get used to it,â you mumble, but thereâs no heat behind the words, only affection, only gratitude.
He chuckles, pulling you back into a hug, and you feel his hand rest on the back of your head, his grip firm and reassuring. âIâm already used to it,â he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. âAnd Iâm not letting you go, kid. Not ever.â
In that moment, you realize that this is what home feels likeâright here, safe in his arms, with nothing left to fear.
I'll never get tired of familyman!Tony I swear.
#amethyst arachnid#comics#marvel#marvel fanfiction#movies#marvel x reader#gaming#x reader#tony stark x reader#tony stark x you#tony stark fluff#tony stark angst#tony stark#tony stark fic#tony stark fanfiction#tony stark imagine#tony stark x y/n#iron man#iron dad#soft tony stark#dad!tony#platonic#platonik aĹk#platonic fluff#platonic fanfic
23 notes
¡
View notes
Note
hello! quick question, i know this is very soon after you posted the comic of young lime trying to bully mochi, and iâm sorry if a question like this has been asked before, but when mochi sees the candy bits and is able to recognize what spells they could be used in and the effects they have, is that from studying magic a lot or is it like a natural identification ability/instinct that she has? thank you!! i hope you have a good day :)
oh thats a great question actually!!!! it comes from studying!!!!
as a kid she was already trying to be a very diligent witch-to-be!! she would spend a lot of time with her mom while she was making spells, so between reading a lot of spellbooks + hanging out when her mom was making potions + wanting to be like her mom, shes good at spotting things that could be used in spells even from an early age!!
(that being said, as a kid she still messed up a lot on the right ingredients. shed bring home random items and be like "I got us spell ingredients!!" and tiramisu would be like "Oh!! Thanks sweetie!!" and didnt have the heart to tell her that whatever she brought home was some useless piece of grass or something jkldj)
#i guess nothing is really USELESS to a witch but there are items that are like. dont really grab those#either cuz theyre abundant enough that you dont need to collect them or the effects are so weak its not worth it#baby mochi had such a passion for magic and was so excited to be a witch and have magic one day#but when she gets magic and works with it she gets hella discouraged#she frequently wishes she had the mind of her 5 year old self who was so full of enthusiasm#but she messes up so much as a witch and its so exhausting it becomes more like a chore#like how you have a childhood dream of being an astronomer or artist something#but once you grow up you face so many struggles pursuing it you lose the love for it#magic burnout is mochis character arc#she finds herself again eventually and becomes confident in magic#but in a more mature way that uses it responsibly and loves it for what it really is#and less like her baby self that wanted to make cookies and fireworks appear out of thin air#the tags got serious but the question was cute#i hope you have a good day too!!!!!!!!!!!#new thing i never touched on: mochi character arc#you see hints of it in the webtoon though. its rough for her starting out. pom was not easy on her#but i think its the kind of familiar she needed
21 notes
¡
View notes
Text
maybe i should have gone into practical effects instead of computer science...
#when i was in middle school i used to use red and black pens + spit for blending to make it look like the backs of my hands were torn open#i can't believe it's almost 4am. i just spent 5 hours typing up an essay about MM's erik that i just fuckin privated bc i was embarrassed#AND I STILL NEVER SPELL HIS NAME RIGHT THE FIRST TIME AAAAAAAA#i was right but im going to save all my points for the fanfic im currently planning out and promptly NEVER GOING TO ACTUALLY WRITE#I say shoving my plans for my h2o s3 rewrite off the table#yes i skipped from s2 to s3 i had a BRILLIANT idea [season 3 h2o spoilers ahead be wary my mutuals who are still watching]#okay so you know how lewis goes to the american institute of marine bio in the middle of 3? since this is tied to my s2 rewrite fic i wante#to actually finally reasonably re-introduced dr denman to the story because i never liked that she just fucked off at the end of s1#despite WITNESSING the moon pool magic. so i made it so she runs into lewis while doing a presentation for the college and they have a chat#(because her JAW paper plays an important part in my s2 rewrite bc i imagine lewis is the kind of guy who SAYS he deleted every copy of#it... but ACTUALLY he secretly printed himself out a copy to study in private to compare to his own notes bc#[lewis voice] come *on* guys just THINK of the progress that he could make with this! [grabby hands in front of chest])#so yeah they have a chat and Linda kind of gives Lewis the opposite dilemma in s3 that Louise gives him in s1 about science and magic#since SHE knows about the moon pool and has been biding her time and she knows Lewis knows and Lewis is like ah... uh oh.#it will eventually tie into the idea it's not about forcing science and magic together or separating them#its abt respectfully and responsibly utilizing both to see their fullest potential. which lewis learned in s2 and Linda has... not.#BUT#later on she gets a call from 1 (one) ryan who is like 'hey so i heard u did environmental studies on mako for dr bennett a couple years ag#and i was wondering if you've seen anything weird there as im currently doing a-' and she's immediately like 'YOU SON OF A BITCH IM IN'#and he's like 'wha-' and she's like 'i have already booked my plane tickets we're going to have a great time we have lots to talk about :)'#and wheeee now they have someone who knows about mermaids on their team and it's the perfect way to bring lewis back to relevancy in s3 :D#it also gives me reason to have two bad bitches (linda and sophie) meet and get to know each other which is not a dynamic ive seen in#any of the H2O fics i've ever read so im very hyped to delve into how they'll play off each other#also charlotte is there so technically three bad bitches (only in my au Charlotte never lost her tail and is part of the gang she just move#because she felt like she needed to leave to really be able to find herself without being in her grandmother's shadow but she comes back bc#well... it's season 3 mako is sounding the fucking emergency alarms everyone is showing up sdkghkfjhg)#im also so so so hyped to show u guys who's coming back in the s2 rewrite because it ISNT denman and i think everyone thinks it will be :3c#(i said she when telling ppl to look forward to a familiar face... but can u blame me for getting hype she's one of my favorite characters!#i love u H2O#cruddy rambles
2 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Immortal Everlasting Trio who have been exploring the Infinite Realms for the last few centuries. The three of them are flying, braiding their paths as they make their way through the Realms.
âHow do you think Ellie is doing in her current incarnation?â Nightshade asks of her partners,
âHmm probably well, she was exploring the galaxy this time right? I could always check?â Pharaoh responds, a keyboard made of sandstone appears at his fingertips.
âShe feels content.â Said Phantom, soothing the worries of the other two. The stars that are freckles on his face brighten with the comment.
They swirl around each other in lazy patterns, unknowing of the passage of time, when Phantom feels a tug at his core. The trio circle up, his partners noticing the shift in mood.
âI donât recognize this one.â He mutters to himself, placing a hand on the center of his chest. âItâs none of the family, but it is a bit familiar.â He furrowed his brow, trying to trace the sensation to its source. He closed his eyes and felt the pull of magic. âIt doesnât feel malicious, thereâs desperation and curiosity for sure, but I feel no ill intent.â He thought for a moment. âIâm going to follow it. I want to know why this feels familiarâ
Nightshade formed a purple bloom and tucked it behind one of his ears and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. âBe safe.â
Pharaoh gently took his hand and kissed it, bestowing a glass bangle to his wrist. âDonât make stupid decisions,â he smirked, âwithout us.â
Phantom laughed and in a flash of bright white light he was gone.
* * *
With a flash of light so bright it temporarily blinded, Phantom appeared in a summoning circle. The room he now occupied was large, a massive sofa made up a good portion of the room and there was a kitchen off to the side. Turning around, there was a large screen with even larger windows behind it. He turned back and now saw the people in the room.
One was green with a unitard on, one was sitting criss cross in front of some candles, a book and a small cauldron, one was floating and had a mass of bright pink hair, one was a cyborg of some kind and stood at the ready with a cannon for an arm and the last was shielding his eyes with a black cape.
âWho summons me?â Phantom asked in a far quieter tone than the teens apparently expected.
The one who appeared to have done the ritual stood and spoke first. âMighty Phantom, we seek your assistance in dealing with a massive threat to our world. The demon Trigon looks to the Earth as his next conquest.â They took a breath and looked down. âHe intends to use my power to do it, and I do not have the strength to stop him.â
Phantom settled his feet on the ground and placed a hand on their shoulder. âPeace young one. Why donât we start with introductions? As you know, I am Phantom, he/him, now who has managed to summon me?â
âI am Raven, she/her, the rest here are my team the Teen Titans.â She turned to her team, they all seemed shocked. âI apologize for them, usually they take things in stride a lot easier. This is Beast Boy, he/him, Starfire she/her, Cyborg, he/him, and Robin, he/him.â
âHmm, may I see the text you used to summon me?â He gestured to the book on the floor. âI was not aware of anything that could summon me in this realm. It is familiar to me though, I canât place why.â
Raven raised the book into his hand. He leafed through it humming to himself before stopping on a photo of a note that looked familiar. He smiled to himself, remembering the time a century ago to him that himself and his partners helped a small civilization and they left a way for the leader to contact them if they needed help. He skimmed the next few paragraphs and then laughed and closed the book.
âIâll help. In fact, my partners and I will help. Itâs been a long while since we were in a mortal realm. I will return in a weekâs time your time to discuss what we need to do. This will work to summon us if we forget or if your danger arrives early.â He magicked a paper with a seal on it and handed it to her. âI must discuss with my partners and will do research on this Trigon. Thank you for calling us, weâve been aimless for too many decades. Have a good night.â He vanished in another flash of light.
* * *
Phantom appeared in a flash of light cackling as he tumbled across the chess board his partners were playing on, scattering the flowers and sandstone pieces across the green sky.
âBeloved you know not to do that,â Nightshade gathered the giggling king into her lap, Pharaoh moving to lean against her shoulder and push the hair from the eyes of Phantom, âbut what has you laughing so?â
Phantom mimed wiping a tear from his eye. âRemember that civilization we helped out a century ago? Well apparently a few hundred years have passed in that world and the people we helped revered us as gods. A sorceress summoned us for help defeating a demon. They were so cute, little teenage heroes like we once were.â He sighed and settled into the arms of his lovers. âHave either of you heard of Trigon?â
3K notes
¡
View notes
Text
your little brother, my little secret | teaser
FULL RELEASE : READ HERE
yn and joy share every secret, until yn returns from university to find joy's little brother jake has become irresistibly hot. maybe keeping just one secret from your best friend won't hurt⌠right?
PAIRING : best friends little brother!jake x reader
GENRE : smut & angst. jake's (shy) a sub for majority of it. dirty talk, masturbation, degrading + humiliation, & y/n is a menace.
WC : 14k
TAGLIST : ????? (if ur on my perm taglist u dont need to comment) <3
mdni
youâve been counting down the days until summer for what feels like forever. youâre returning to your hometown for the entire two months you have until university starts again in september.Â
youâve been driving for miles now, just having to go to a university two hours away from your small hometown. but the summer air is thick and humid, and it blows throughout the car as all the windows are down.Â
your best friend, joy, sits beside you. youâve known her for just as long as she has moved into your small town when you both were ten. since then, youâve shared everything together; every laugh, every tear⌠every secret. her family feels like your own, summers spent in their backyard, evenings filled with board games and cards. some nights in high school even included sneaking out to a party and drinking until you thought youâd throw up.Â
last summer was different. you were abroad doing an internship for university. and you didnât get a chance to stay long during christmas break. so, itâs been a while since youâve actually stayed in your hometown with all its familiarities.Â
âjake will be home when we get there,â joy says, loud enough to be heard over the wind and faint music.Â
âoh right, howâs he liking university?âÂ
jake is joyâs little brother. heâs always been shy, introverted, prefers to stay home and play video games instead of going out like you and joy. you remember him as a cute kid, all wide eyed and shy smiles. you donât remember him having much friends, heâd rather be alone in his room. itâs hard for you to imagine him navigating the crowded university, but you suppose heâs all grown up now. itâs been so long since youâve seen him, and the thought of how much he changed lingers in your mind.Â
âhe likes it,â joy says, her long black hair blowing out the window, âheâs excited for summer like we are.âÂ
you nodded in response, thinking maybe jake would go out with you guys now instead of playing video games in his room all summer.Â
âwe gotta go to hyunjinâs this week!â joy declares, her eyes lighting with anticipation, âyou know heâs throwing a big party this week. and then, thereâs that new bar that opened downtown. we have to check it out!âÂ
you agree with joy. her energy is infectious despite her brash (sometimes too brash) exterior. joy has always been more straightforward and perhaps blunt than you are. when sometimes you can be a people pleaser and a pushover, joy is there to say the words you wish you could say.Â
âi canât wait,â you reply, âitâs been too long since weâve had a proper night out.âÂ
joy shoots you a mischievous grin, her confidence unwavering, âoh trust me, yn. this summer, weâre going all out.âÂ
you roll your eyes at your pretty best friend, pulling into her familyâs driveway swiftly.Â
you and joy step through the front door of the house, a place that is more familiar and comforting than your own. the place smells like a home cooked meal and you are instantly greeted with joyâs parentsâ smiles. joyâs mother envelops you in a hug, her warmth and kindness instantly easing any fatigue from the long drive.Â
"oh, yn, joy, it's so good to see you both!" joy's mother exclaims, her smile radiant. "dinner will be ready shortly. you must be exhausted after the drive. please, sit down in the living room and relax."
joy's father joins in, his jovial voice filling the room. "how was the trip? traffic wasn't too bad, i hope?" her parents' genuine concern and hospitality are a stark contrast to your own parents.Â
"it was fine, dad," joy replies, her tone affectionate yet tinged with a hint of impatience. "we're just glad to be home for the summer."
you smile over your shoulder at her parents as she drags you to the living room. it looks the same as you remember it; comfy fabric couch, family photos on the walls, lit candles around the room that mix with the smell of dinner.Â
joy props her feet up on the coffee table as she starts to scroll her phone. a nonchalant smile plays on her lips, âcanât believe weâre back here.â she says with a sigh.
before you can respond, a sudden noise draws your attention towards the backdoor. two figures emerge, their arms swaying as they laugh and push each other.Â
âhey guys,â joy's casual greeting halts their antics momentarily, but it's the sight of you on the couch that freezes one of the boys in his tracks. he stands there, awkward and unsure.
the other boy remains cool and confident as he greets joy and walks over to you both on the couch. he stands in front of you, sticking his hand out in front of your face, âiâm heeseung.âÂ
you look up at him as he stands, his features are chiseled. his eyes are a deep shade of brown. his smile is almost cocky, but disarming as he flashes it effortlessly. thereâs an aura of assurance about him, that he knows heâs good looking and heâs confident about it.Â
your hand meets his, âiâm y/n.â your eyes flicker back to the boy who remains rooted to the spot, his expression unreadable as he almost quiets away into the wall.Â
âare you gonna come hug your sister, jake?â joy squeaks from beside you, she octaves her voice higher to be annoying on purpose.Â
itâs then that you realize who is standing there in the cornerâ you almost didnât recognize him.Â
the shy, nerdy kid you once knew is now standing beforeâ transformed in a way that catches you off guard. where once stood a lanky teenager, now stands a man that is toned and tanned. his hair is longer and tousled in a way that accentuates his features. heâs taller and broader.Â
as you take in his appearance, you canât help but be struck by how insanely hot he has become.Â
he shifts nervously, perhaps sensing your gaze. his eyes turn to joy, âno way in hell am i hugging you.âÂ
joy's mother breezes into the room with a warm smile, "oh jake, give your sister a hug."
joy springs up instantly, tackling jake in a bear hug that's both affectionate and overly enthusiastic. jake groans, awkwardly patting joy's back as everyone chuckles. heeseung, settles down next to you, a confident smirk playing on his lips, his eyes holding a hint of nothing other than flirtatious.Â
"right, yn," joy's mother continues, her tone gentle yet teasing, "heeseung here has been keeping jake entertained since you left."
heeseung chimes in, his voice dripping with sarcasm and humor. "yeah, we're inseparable now," he says with a grin.
you laugh, unable to resist teasing. "oh really? i remember jake having no friends at all."
joy joins in, her laughter ringing through the room. "seriously, all he did was stay in his room playing video games."
"be nice, girls," she says playfully. "joy, come help me with dinner. set up a place for heeseung, too."
heeseung stands up with a mock bow. "don't worry, i'll set up my own place."
joy groans at having to help, leaving you and jake alone in the living room, complaining about why she has to help but jake doesnât.Â
jake settles into the chair directly across you, but his body language shows heâs tense and restless and it suggests that heâd rather be anywhere else. he fidgets slightly, fingers rolling over each other in his lap, his eyes darting around the room and avoiding you.
@ taeghi, 2024. do not repost or reuse in anyway.
PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY, AS LIKES MAKE IT HARD FOR WORK TO BE SPREAD AND ENJOYED BY OTHERS :)
stay safe everyone :)
#enhypen#enhypen smut#enhypen x reader#jake x reader#jake#jake enhypen smut#jake smut#enhypen x reader smut#enhypen fic#smut#enha#enhypen fanfiction#jake x reader smut#jake x reader enhypen#jake x reader enhypen smut
1K notes
¡
View notes
Note
an oscar x deaf reader, maybe sheâs friends w someone working in mclaren and visits. the reader almost gets into an accident and oscar saves her, mad that she wasnât paying attention and yells at her only to realize sheâs deaf. he apologizes and he starts talking to her after that day.
close save | oscar piastri
pairing: oscar piastri x deaf reader note: i know close to nothing about lip reading and deafness, all info used in this is something iâve googled, so feel free to correct me if something is wrong!! also, iâve tried something new with writing it mostly from oscarâs perspective, so let me know if you like it xx
the midday sun beats down on the mclaren garage, casting long shadows over the bustling crew. itâs been a long morning of prep work, but oscar doesnât mindâhe thrives in the intensity, in the noise, in the hum of engines that fill his ears.
as he turns to grab a drink of water, something catches his eye. a young woman is standing just outside the garage, looking around with a distracted expression. youâre not wearing any of the usual gear or badges that indicate youâre part of the team, but thereâs something familiar about you. oscar narrows his eyes, trying to place your face, when he notices something alarmingâa forklift is backing up, and youâre right in its path.
without thinking, oscar drops the bottle and sprints toward you. his heart pounds as he closes the distance, yelling for you to move, but you donât react. panic grips him as he reaches out, grabbing your arm and yanking you out of the way just in time. the forklift lumbers past, the driver oblivious to the close call.
oscarâs chest heaves as he turns to face you, adrenaline coursing through his veins. âwhat the hell were you thinking? you couldâve beenââ he stops mid-sentence, noticing your startled expression. your eyes are widened, but not in fear of the near-miss. itâs something else.
you blink at him, your mouth moving soundlessly, and suddenly oscar realizes whatâs wrong. you canât hear him. the realization hits him like a punch to the gut, and the anger he felt a moment ago is instantly replaced by guilt. his face softens, and he steps back, his hand dropping from your arm.
âiâm- iâm sorry,â he stammers, his voice suddenly quiet, as if lowering it might somehow make up for his outburst. âi didnât know . . .â
you tilt your head slightly, as if trying to read his lips, and oscar feels a wave of helplessness wash over him. he raises his hands, fumbling awkwardly as he tries to communicate. he doesnât know any sign languageâheâs never needed toâbut he gestures toward the forklift, then back at you, hoping you understand that he was just worried.
to his relief, you nod, giving him a small, understanding smile. you point to your ear, then shake your head, confirming what heâs already guessed. youâre deaf.
oscar takes a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. he feels terrible, not just for yelling at you, but for assuming you were ignoring him when you couldnât even hear him in the first place. âiâm sorry,â he repeats, mouthing the words more deliberately this time. he hopes you can read his lips.
you nod again, your expression kind, and motion that itâs okay. oscar feels a strange warmth in his chest at your forgiveness. he still feels like an idiot, but at least you donât seem to hold it against him.
at that moment, lando appears from the other side of the garage, waving enthusiastically as he approaches. âhey, mate! you met jonâs sister yet?â he calls out, clearly unaware of what just happened. he jogs over, grinning broadly. âoscar, this is-â
âjonâs sister?â oscar repeats, cutting him off. the pieces fall into placeâjon, landoâs personal trainer, had mentioned his sister visiting today. he hadnât put two and two together until now. âright. i didnât realize . . .â
landoâs grin falters as he notices the awkward tension. âoh. uh, yeah . . . sheâs deaf, by the way. did i forget to mention that?â
oscar shoots him a look, but lando just shrugs, mouthing an exaggerated âsorry!â before turning back to you. âi see youâve met oscar, then,â he says, switching to a more careful, lip-readable pace. he introduces you properly, and oscar watches as you sign something back to lando.
lando nods and translates, âshe says thank you for saving her back there.â
oscar feels his face heat up a little, embarrassed but also strangely proud. âno problem,â he says, and then, after a pause, he adds, âi shouldâve been more careful. iâm sorry if i scared you.â
lando relays the message, and you just smile, giving oscar a thumbs up.
over the next few hours, oscar finds himself glancing over at you more than once. he feels a strange pull, unable to tear his eyes away as you move through the garage, interacting with your brother and some of the crew, completely at ease despite the noise and chaos around you.
at one point, you catch him looking and wave. oscar waves back, feeling a bit foolish. when the day winds down and most of the team starts packing up, oscar spots you sitting on one of the low walls outside the garage, watching the track.
he hesitates for a moment, then walks over and sits down next to you, keeping a respectful distance. you look over and give him a welcoming smile, and for the first time, oscar doesnât feel nervous. he doesnât know how to sign, but he doesnât need to. you sit there together, quietly watching as the sun dips lower in the sky, painting the track in shades of gold.
finally, oscar turns to you. his phone is open in his notes app, and in there heâs written: would you like to get a coffee sometime? maybe you could teach me some sign language.
you raise an eyebrow, then nod, your smile widening as you sign something to him. oscar doesnât understand it yet, but he knows one thing: heâs definitely looking forward to learning.
#f1#f1 x reader#formula 1#formula 1 x reader#f1 imagine#mclaren#mclaren racing#op81#op81 x reader#op81 imagine#op81 x you#op81 x y/n#op81 fluff#op81 fic#oscar piastri x yn#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x fem!reader#divider by cafekitsune#formula one imagine
2K notes
¡
View notes
Text
â° sweet nothingâ°
â
ăťăťăťăťâ
ăťăťăťăť â
ăťăťăťăťâ
nhl masterlist !
pairing: quinn hughes x writer! reader
warnings: angst and comfort, fluff
song: sweet nothing by taylor swift
summary: 5 times Quinn knew you were the one, and the one time he let you know...
word count: 2.2 k
notes: quinn my sweet boy!! also sweet nothing by taylor swift because her love songs are so superior
â
ăťăťăťăťâ
ăťăťăťăť â
ăťăťăťăťâ
outside, they're push and shoving, you're in the kitchen humming
quinn pushes open the door to his apartment, exhausted. His face hurts from smiling at fans, and the triple header really, really took it out of him.
he loves his captaincy, really. he loves his boys, the leading, the responsibility. it's hard, though, to live up to all of the jostle and hassle the spotlight brings.
needless to say, the push and shove of stress has taken its toll on him, and all he needs is a hot shower and preferably 8 or more hours of sleep.
through the walkway, he hears a familiar voice, the telltale clatter of pans, a taylor swift song and the aroma of garlic and tomatoes.
you must've used his spare key he gave you.
he smiles despite himself, something warm tugging deep in his stomach.
he calls your name and immediately flushes with how breathy and needy he sounds. the last thing he wants is to scare you away.
"q!" you pop up from behind the counter, wearing nothing but one of his old shirts that drapes long over your slender shoulders and a pair of ratty sweatpants. your hair is pulled back from your make-up void face.
you've never looked more beautiful.
you make your way over while he admires you, and lock your arms around his waist, smiling up at him.
"missed you," you kiss his cheek, and he flushes again. god, why was he like this still?
the two of you have been dating for over than a month now, but he's still so easily flustered by you. maybe it's because you work with words for a living, but you're the sweetest thing he's ever seen (and tasted).
you think it's cute, and you tell him more often than not, reducing him to a puddle of a blushing mess.
he bundles you properly in his arms, kissing you properly.
you're so soft and warm under his fingers, your mouth hot and pliable.
you indulge him for a moment, savouring the time with each other. his hands wander down to your hips, gripping hard like he's afraid you'll be blown away by the wind.
a timer dings, and you pull back. he chases your lips, letting out a whine when you giggle and push gently at his broad chest.
"quinny, stop! i made you lasagna, and I don't want it to burn."
"mm, we'll order take out," he mutters into your neck, breathing in your familiar perfume.
you let out a sound of protest, finally breaking free of his hold. he follows you like a lost puppy as you set the table, plating him an extra large piece.
as he eats, you watches your kind eyes and easy smile with adoration.
the realization jars him, but settles firm in his bones: he wants to come home to you everyday.
..â˘â˘Â°Â°Â°Â°â˘â˘....â˘â˘Â°Â°Â°Â°â˘â˘..
i wrote a poem, you say, "what a mind", this happens all the time
it's the release of your latest book, and quinn watches as you engage with your fans. the biggest indigo in vancouver invited you to come do a meet and greet along with a signing.
you had spent the morning with quinn, his hands stroking through your hair to calm you down. although your other books had success, this one was your proudest piece of work yet.
quinn had been the first person to read it. he was impressed; he knew you were smart and you had a way with words that astounded him, but the whole book was like poetry.
the words flowed easy from you, as easy as breathing.
now, watching you all flushed and a little embarrassed by the attention from the mass of people who showed up, he all but glows with pride.
a young girl, maybe in her early teens, comes up to you with a wide smile and bright, glassy eyes. he can't hear well, because he's tucked near the back of the room to avoid the crowd, but she says something and your face falls.
he's ready to sprint through the crowd to get to you, but you hug the younger girl. she's crying, he realizes. you squeeze her tight, sign her book and send her off with what looks like encouraging words and another hug.
afterwards, while he drives with one hand and the other on your thigh, he asks what happened.
"she told me she's never felt more seen by anyone before. that my book told her it's okay to not know where to be in the world." your eyes feel wet, and he smiles.
god, you're brilliant.
he raises your hand to his mouth and kisses your pulse.
"what a mind," he murmurs, and you laugh softly.
"you tell me that all the time."
"because I mean it, babe."
now he understands when those cheesy movies say "I want you body, mind and soul".
you are undeniably beautiful, gorgeous even. kindness seeps from your very being, and you're mind is bright and soft.
he wants all of you, forever.
..â˘â˘Â°Â°Â°Â°â˘â˘....â˘â˘Â°Â°Â°Â°â˘â˘..
the voices that implore, "you should be doing more"
ellen sees some of the articles and criticisms of her eldest on the internet. quinn has always been the quietest, the most calm and so stoic. but her sweet boy, who worked too hard and did too much was always being told to do more.
so when she called him and he picked up the facetime groggy and hair still damp, she was surprised.
"hey, mom." he answered, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
"hi, quinn. sorry, sweetie. i didn't expect you to be asleep. i thought i would check up on you."
"all good." he yawns, and he makes small talk.
she wonders if he's seen all of the speculations about his captaincy on the news and headlines.
he tells her he has, because she asks him straight up. he appreciates the straightforwardness, and he has since he was young.
he tells her that you were there.
"she ran me a bath, with those weird salt things that women love so much-"
"hey! they're very nice." she interrupts, laughing at his antics.
"and she made soup. we ate already and I took a nap. she's out getting groceries, but i'll tell her you said hi, mom."
ellen nods, something tangible and comforting in the air around her. her son is in good hands.
..â˘â˘Â°Â°Â°Â°â˘â˘....â˘â˘Â°Â°Â°Â°â˘â˘..
to you, I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it
you find him in the empty change room. he's sitting on a bench, wet hair messy, head hung. you expected this; your boyfriend was nothing if not responsible and too hard on himself.
after another loss, his grief and frustration was normal.
you kneel before him, taking his face, hot from the shower in your cool hands. his pretty eyes are rimmed red, and he leans into your touch.
"hey, pretty boy. you did good out there, captain."
he shakes his head, fingers trembling as he pulls you closer so he can push his face into your hair, inhaling your smell.
"i failed them. i'm a shit captain, and i can't seem to break this cycle we're in-"
"you are not a shit captain." you say those words firmly, and it almost surprises quinn. normally you were soft-spoken and slow, but you tell him this with urgency.
"i should be taking care of everyone, and everything-"
"but who takes care of you?"
your words break a dam in him, and he buries his head in your shoulder. the position is uncomfortable, but you don't shift or mention his shaking shoulders.
"you are a good leader. a good leader is one who stands with his team, even during the tough times. the boys adore you, and you will break this rut. but it takes time, and work, my love. no one works harder than you."
he sniffs, a hovering breath touches your neck.
"you are so strong, my sweet boy." you cradle his neck, pressing kisses to the side of his face. this sets off another wave of emotions, and he easily tugs you up into his lap.
his wet hair drips onto your (his) jersey, but you don't mind.
"and if you need to be strong for them, you can be soft with me. i'm here for a reason. another set of shoulders to bear your burdens."
"i love you, y'know that?" his voice is scratchy, vulnerable and thick with emotion. although the two of you have exchanged those three words countless of times before this, it feels like more this time.
"i know, quinnie. i love you too."
..â˘â˘Â°Â°Â°Â°â˘â˘....â˘â˘Â°Â°Â°Â°â˘â˘..
I find myself running home to your sweet nothings
jack hauls his older brother onto the curb, setting him there, praying that he doesn't fall flat into the road. luke runs out with quinn's jacket, draping it over his shoulders.
it isn't often that quinn gets drunk, especially this drunk. but the boys night was a chance for all of them to let loose during the off season.
the small dive bar near the lake house was the perfect place to get away.
"dude, he is hammered." luke huffs, tugging at the sleeves of his own hoodie, the chill of the night starting to surround the air.
quinn says something under his breath as he sways, and jack sets him upright again.
"bro, what did you say?"
quinn repeats your name, louder this time, with the request to see you immediately.
the way he says your name, with so much love and awe makes jack almost wish he was in a relationship.
"sure, man. i'll call her to pick you up."
you arrive a mere 10 minutes later, hair wet, wearing one of quinn's canucks sweatshirts and a pair of sleep shorts.
"hey guys," you greet the other hughes boys. Luke gives you a side hug, and you pat jack's arm in thanks as you move to help her boyfriend up.
"babe!" Quinn only realizes then that you're here. jack has to laugh, seeing his brother so far gone because of the 7 tequila shots they took.
"jeez, guys. how much did you drink?" you ask, laughing, and Luke starts to regale you with the tale of jack's bad rendition of lady gaga.
"i missed you." quinn is now standing behind you, arms firmly wrapped around your waist, his cheek pressed against the top of your head. he doesn't say it loud, but contented and quiet.
jack watches as you smooth your hands over his forearms, rolling your eyes in amusement.
"yes, yes, I missed you too, you clingy baby."
"hey! m'not clingy." he protested, his whole body pressed up against every inch of yours.
jack snorts, giving you a sympathetic look, "good luck with that one."
you jokingly flip him off, as you try to maneuver your much larger boyfriend.
"c'mon, hughes." quinn frowns at this.
"I only answer to quinny, my love, sweetie and baby."
"that's your name?" jack asked, only to be met with a dirty look from his brother. luke snickers as you shrug quinn into the passenger seat.
"thanks for watching him." you say as you walk over to the driver's side.
"thanks for coming to get him. did we interrupt anything?"
"nah, except your mom was showing me your guys' baby pictures." you eyes shine with mirth as they groan.
"please tell me she didn't-"
"yep, the bathtub pictures too." you smile, and quinn yells something from with in the car.
"okay, I should probably get the big baby home. you guys don't stay out too late, okay?" you tell them, and they bid you goodbye.
he watches you guys drive off, quinn probably saying something stupid as you laugh.
"y'know, i really hope she's the one." Luke tells him as they head back into the bar.
jack has never, ever seen his brother so happy. he's never seen him smile so willingly for anyone, and clearly, you have him wrapped around your finger.
"yeah, me too, man."
..â˘â˘Â°Â°Â°Â°â˘â˘....â˘â˘Â°Â°Â°Â°â˘â˘..
+ all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing
you're wearing your blue light glasses, a tank top and a pair of his plaid boxers as you sit cross-legged in your shared bed, hair loose around your shoulders.
you're working on something new, and quinn studies your features as you concentrate.
without looking up from your laptop, you grin, "stop staring, stalker."
he laughs, "you love it."
you meet his eyes as he crawls next to you. he lets you wipe at his mouth, where he's sure there's still remnants of toothpastes.
"i love you." you offer instead, and he pulls you onto his lap. his fingers inch up your thighs but stop there.
he just wants to feel you, before he has to leave for another roadie.
"i love you." he tells you matter-of-factly, "and i'm going to marry you one day."
"babe, we've only been together a little over 8 months," you protest, but he sees the glow of joy on your cheeks at his words.
"i know," he says confidently, "but i'm going to make you my wife, one day. all i want is you."
you melt at his words, laying your head on his shoulder, "all i want is you, and your sweet nothings."
â
ăťăťăťăťâ
ăťăťăťăť â
ăťăťăťăťâ
Š sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.
#quinn hughes#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes x y/n#hughes brothers#vancouver canucks#nhl hockey#nhl players#luke hughes#jack hughes#nj devils#new jersey devils#nhl imagine#nhl fluff#hockey#hockey fluff#quinn hughes imagine#quinn hughes fluff#qh43#quinn hughes fic#quinn hughes fanfiction
1K notes
¡
View notes
Text
A bit of heat, a bit of anger - Aaron Hotchner (smut)
It's been a while, but this idea found its way to me and I simply had to write this. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx
Summary: Aaron has never treated her as kindly as he treats the rest of the team, but after a fight between them and a guy trying to chat the reader up, Aaron can't hold himself back any longer.
Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, car smut, somewhat enemies to lovers, clear power imbalance, jealous Aaron
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!fem!reader (3k words)
The heat was burning down on them, letting the sun heat their bodies as the warmth travelled straight through their dark clothes which added an almost dangerous touch to their appearance. (Y/n) had her eyes focused on JJ, listening to her talk while they took in their surroundings.
It should be an easy case, allowing them to catch their unsub in a few days before they could fly home again to escape this heat. (Y/n) could barely believe that she had once grown up with temperatures this high, forced to accept the sweat pooling on her forehead, the thin clothing sheâd wear for most parts of the year, things she now hated more than she could put into words.Â
â(Y/n), Rossi and I will visit the families, Reid I need you for the geographic profile, JJ and Prentiss talk to the journalists again.â Aaron Hotchnerâs voice rang in her ears. A sound so strong, so familiar, she didnât understand how it still had that same effect on her. (Y/n) had joined the BAU a while ago, instantly drawn in by their friendliness and how they treated her like a member of their small family. She had found things to bond over with every single one of them, all but Aaron Hotchner.
The man was a confusing case to her, a case she struggled to solve. He was kind to her, treated her with just enough warmth to lead her on, and yet he was more distant with her than with the others, drawing a clear line between them. The others had tried to tell her about his cautious self, how he struggled to trust new people and that it would take him a while to warm up to her, but now, months later, he still hadnât managed to give in to the friendly talks (y/n) tried to rope him into.Â
â(Y/n), you should focus on the sister, she is about your age, so you should manage to bond with her, while we will talk to the parents.â Aaronâs dark eyes found hers in the rearview mirror while he spoke to (y/n). She knew better than to protest, knew better than to object â there was no use in going against Aaron Hotchner, at least not when they were on a case away from home. All she could do was nod her head, shooting him a tight smile before focusing on the files she was rereading.Â
âI think, (y/n) should be the one to speak to the parents, she did better than we did last time.â Rossiâs voice filled the SUV, forcing their eyes towards him as his grin grew wider. There was something lingering in his gaze, something he and Aaron seemed to understand while (y/n) didnât see through their wordless back and forth.Â
âItâs alright, I will gladly speak to the sister.â She couldnât bear an awkward atmosphere, couldnât bear being roped into some useless bickering that would push Aaron Hotchner further away from her. His eyes snapped back towards hers, studying (y/n) for a few more moments before nodding his head at her.Â
(Y/n) could only pray that this day would pass quickly enough, already set on visiting the bar Emily had picked for them on their way to this town, all too excited about riding a mechanical bull while putting on a show for whoever would dare to look at her for too long.Â
âŚâŚ
To say the visit with the first family had been a bust would be an understatement. Within moments everything had escalated, forcing the three agents out of their home because the sister (y/n) had spoken to had flipped on her, screaming at the confused agent that had been pulled out of the room by a fuming Aaron Hotchner.Â
No words had been shared on the ride back, leaving her stomach in knots while overthinking what had happened. It hadnât been her fault, at least deep down she was aware of that, and yet she had instantly feared Hotchner's outlash, unable to live with the knowledge that she had disappointed him.Â
âDo you have a moment, sir?â She was holding open the door to the room they had been offered at the local police station. The others had left for the bar minutes ago, leaving Aaron and (y/n) behind who were still working on new files they had picked up today. A nagging feeling deep inside of her had urged her on to search his closeness, to speak to him while the others were waiting for them.Â
Aaronâs eyes flickered up from the file, studying her expression that dripped with too many emotions, a confusing mess she couldnât fight through. He nodded his head at her, watching (y/n) take a step further into the room before closing the door behind herself.Â
âIâm sorry for today, but I need you to know that I would never do something to escalate a situation. She wasnât in a good mindset and was easily triggered. Disappointing you is something I donât want to do.â Her hands were interlocked in front of her, tightly squeezed together while the words rolled off her tongue.Â
âI shouldnât have let you do this alone, Iâll make sure to supervise you the next time.â The words felt like a punch to her gut. He treated her as if she was a new agent, as if this was her first time out on the field and not like she had worked with other teams before joining the BAU. Anger began to simmer deep inside of her, an anger that threatened to take over her system.Â
âWhy are you treating me like this?â Her voice was small, quiet as if she was scared of his reaction. But this wasnât about fear, no, she was trying to stop herself from spiralling, from getting lost in the rabbit hole he had just pushed her down.Â
âExcuse me?â He leaned back in the chair, arms crossed in front of his chest. A fire was burning in both of their eyes, a similarity both shared and yet couldnât focus on.Â
âYou treat me as if Iâm a child, as if I came here straight from the academy and not like an agent with years of field experience. You know, people always told me all these stories about you, and how I should be grateful for the chance to work with you, but so far I donât see what they all see. Itâs quite disappointing, really.â She shook her head at him and turned from Aaron to flee from the room. But the call of her name forced her to a sudden halt.Â
âI will let this pass, write it off as an exhausting day we all had. But the next time you speak to your supervisor like that, you will be asked to leave this team.â Angry tears welled up in her eyes, tears she blinked away while her feet carried her away from Aaron and the brooding expression nobody wore as well as he did.Â
âŚâŚ
âItâs your turn, (y/n)!â Emily had her arm slung over (y/n)âs shoulder, dragging her through the bar towards the mechanical bull Emily had ridden minutes ago. It had been a while since (y/n) had left the station, making a quick stop at their hotel to trade her work clothes for a nicely fitting dress that allowed her to blend in with most people at the bar.
âYou know, Iâm only doing this because I love you, right?â Her laughter bubbled out of her, ringing in both their ears while Spencer, JJ and Derek came to a halt next to Emily. They watched (y/n) climb into the ring before swinging herself onto the bull. It had been years since she had last done this, and yet her body still seemed to remember the routine well enough, giving her the confidence she needed.
Her wandering eyes were instantly drawn to his, watching him sit down next to Rossi, who was also looking at her with a wide smile. Parts of her wanted to put on a show, wondering if any of this was getting to Hotchner, the man whose jaw muscles were clenched and whose arm muscles were stretching the fabric of the dark shirt he wore. But another part of her was convinced that no matter what sheâd do, he wouldnât care, not about her.Â
Music filled the air, buzzing through (y/n) while her surroundings began to spin. The people around her cheered for her, letting her smile grow as the movements gained some speed. She tightened her grip, her thighs clamping down as she rode each motion with determination. Her hair flew around her face, but she kept her focus on him, her laughter ringing out above the noise.
She managed to hold on even as the machine made an almost violent lurch, set on throwing her off. With one final, spectacular buck, the bull tried to unseat her. (Y/n) held on for a heartbeat longer before she was finally thrown, landing in a heap of laughter and exhilaration. The crowd erupted in applause, and she looked up to see her friends leaning over the barrier, smiling down at her.Â
A guy she hadnât seen before reached his hand out for her to take, pulling (y/n) back to her feet and straight into his chest. The guy was cute, about her age with piercing eyes that wandered over her features, all while she felt the eyes of the others on her, still cheering for her.Â
âYou were good, seemed like a natural.â His words left (y/n) chuckling while running a hand through her hair.Â
âDid lots of these things as a teenager.â She watched her friends back off, leaving her alone with the guy who still held onto her.
âWill you let me buy you a drink?â (Y/n) couldnât stop her eyes from flickering back to Aaron who was still watching her with a darkening expression. Perhaps it was stupid of her to say yes to the guy, but the alcohol already buzzing through her system made her feel all too excited about the knowledge that whatever she was doing was clearly getting to Aaron.Â
âWhatâs your name, sweetheart?â They were leaning against the bar, he had his hand placed on her waist, while she had her front turned towards him. She struggled to focus on him, struggled to think about anything but her fight with her supervisor and the desperate need to impress him she couldnât shake.Â
âItâs (y/n).â Her voice trembled slightly, something the guy seemed to misinterpret for attraction or nervousness. His hand moved down from her waist, coming to rest on the small of her back with his fingers spread out on her skin. It was time to put an end to this, to gently push him away while mumbling something about having to return to her friends, but (y/n) didnât get far. Before she could even try to speak up, she felt a hand clamping down on her wrist, pulling her from the guyâs grasp against a broad chest.Â
The scent of his cologne instantly forced its way into her system, making (y/n) shudder against his hold. She didnât need to look up at him to know that it was Aaron, already feeling much more comfortable than she had seconds before. She barely paid the harsh words Aaron and the guy shared any mind, too focused on the way her heart skipped a few beats as his hand left her wrist only to sling his arm around her waist.Â
She didnât protest as Aaron pulled her out of the bar, past their grinning team mates who studied the two with curiosity. No words were spoken, nothing but silence settled between them, a silence she feared more than the fights she had grown used to over the past months. Aaron started driving away from the bar, dark eyes set straight ahead.Â
âSo, will you tell me what this was about?â (Y/n) angled her body towards him, studying her supervisor with furrowed eyebrows. For a second, his eyes snapped towards hers, threatening to get lost in her pupils and that overly innocent gaze she shot him. âFirst you treat me like trash and now you sweep in to rescue me from a guy? Youâre confusing me, Aaron.â
It was the first time she used his first name, making his jaw muscles twitch. She kept watching him, every expression tugging on his handsome features while a grin began to grow on her lips. (Y/n) had the upper hand, she had lured him into a trap with his own confusing behaviour.Â
âCareful, agent.â His voice was raspier than before, dripping with a dangerous warning she ignored.
âWhy? We are no longer on the clock, I can say what the hell I want.â Her grin turned into a full smirk, leaving the man brooding while driving back to their hotel.
âDonât be a brat, (y/n), Iâd hate to punish you.â Aaronâs words shot heat straight down to her core. She clenched her thighs together â a sight that drew a raspy chuckle from the tall man. This seemed to play out exactly like one of her dreams, reminding her of the scenarios sheâd come up with whenever she touched herself to the thought of Aaron Hotchner.Â
âI think you only speak empty threats, you would never do such things like punishing me.â The words seemed to push him over the edge, forcing the SUV to a halt in the middle of nowhere, parked on the side of the empty road. Within seconds he had turned towards (y/n), pulling her in for a searing kiss with his palm pressed against the back of her neck. She forgot how to breathe, fully sinking into the kiss with her heart pounding in her chest and her hands finding the collar of his shirt.Â
Without breaking the kiss, she climbed over the middle console, finding rest on his lap to deepen the kiss. Their tongues were tangled, fully focused on every single touch as she let her hands wander down his front to find his belt. Aaronâs big hands were resting on her thighs, palming her skin with an urgency that left her trembling.Â
âAaron,â she mumbled his name against his lips. For a moment, they broke apart, looking at one another with glassy eyes. She couldnât stop her chuckle from rumbling through her, buzzing through (y/n) while Aaron tightened his grip on her. âBe honest with me, what is this all about?â
âI hate myself for looking at you differently, for having this selfish need to protect you and pull you away from tasks because I fear you getting hurt. Itâs egotistical and stupid, but I canât stop it. I tried not to get too close to you, because I knew from the first day youâd make me suffer. But seeing you with this guy, how he had his hands on you, it forced me to act.â She kissed him again with as much passion as her dazy self could muster. Aaron instantly responded to the kiss, allowing his hands to move once again while she shuffled closer, letting her clothed heat rub against his growing bulge.Â
âI need to ride you like I was dreaming of me doing for the past months.â Aaronâs fingers danced up her thighs, pushing her damp panties aside to tease her pulsing bundle. Her moans were the sweetest sounds he had ever heard, Aaron was sure of it â sounds heâd forever remember.Â
âI donât have anything on me.â His mumbled words left her humming, drawing her away from the kiss to reach for her small bag and the condom she had been carrying around with herself. Aaron let her fumble with the package while freeing his cock, giving himself a few tugs before (y/n) rolled the condom down his length.Â
With their lips pressed together once again, (y/n) sank down on his cock, groaning as he stretched her all too perfectly. Both held still for a second, letting her adjust with fluttering walls before slowly raising her hips to fuck herself on his cock. Aaron and (y/n) moaned in unison, high on the feeling of him buried inside of her and the way she could feel him oh so deep.Â
âFuck, baby.â Aaronâs head rolled back, while his hazy eyes kept watching her. His big hands supported her movements, placed on her ass to keep her close. She looked thoroughly fucked out, happy to feel him this close as they got to know one anotherâs body for the first time.Â
(Y/n) had one of her hands pressed against the window, trying to support herself while her limbs began to quiver. Aaron seemed to pick up on her trembling, letting his hips jerk upwards to fuck into her, needing to feel her cum around his cock. Curses left them both over and over again, blending together as they lost themselves in the different sensations.Â
âFeels so good, donât ever stop, please.â She was begging for more than she could handle at that time, and yet (y/n) didnât find it in herself to care. She didnât mind the overstimulation she was begging for, didnât mind the desperation dripping from her words, all she cared about was both of them cumming together.Â
âIâm so close, fuck, please Aaron.â The smirk tugging on his lips made her see stars, pushing her even closer to the edge.
âTouch yourself, baby, make yourself cum for me.â Thatâs all she needed to hear, allowing her fingers to rub her pulsing bundle to give her the needed push. She struggled to keep her eyes open, struggled to focus on anything but her nearing orgasm, all while Aaron kept holding onto her.Â
And with one last whimper, (y/n) let herself fall into her orgasm. Her walls clenched his cock, pulling him in further while he pushed himself over the edge with a few more thrusts. (Y/n) was trembling in his grasp, holding still with her forehead pressed against his broad shoulder.Â
âI,â a shaky exhale left her. âI am happy this finally pushed you over, I wasnât sure how much longer I could go on with my feelings for you.â Her words left Aaron smiling, pulling her in for another kiss that left her heart fluttering.Â
âYou wonât ever have to worry about that again, sweetheart. Iâm sorry it took me this long to realise.â
909 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Why does she give a damn about me? | Spencer Reid x Reader
cutesy, cheesy fluff
In wich Spencer thinks reader is out of his league but she could not be more into him.
Content: Garcia is a queen as always, sunshine!reader
Warnings: Maybe some light lack of self steem from spence, but nothing crazy!!
He was used to it at this point. Being the weird kid in high school and college, Spencer never really expected anyone to be into him and, after being rejected a couple of times, he had practically closed himself off in that sense. But then, you came into the picture.
You are one of those girls that everyone seemed to gravitate toward, not only because of your beauty but because of your essence. You were genuinely kind, smart and good with people in a way he wished he was, maybe thatâs why he was so drawn to you, you had all the qualities he wished he had and being close to you made him feel complete.
Needless to say that he was in love with you, it had started as an admiration and when he realized he was thinking about you all the time, but he was sure you would never be into guys like him, he was sure youâd never see him as more than friends.
â
You had joined the team a few years ago, you were excited to finally be doing what you really wanted when you joined the BAU, going out in the field and being on cases instead of just working a desk job all the time. When you first met the team, everyone seemed very welcoming but you felt yourself especially drawn to Spencer out of all people, at first he seemed distant but with time you noticed how sweet he was and how much he cared for everyone around him and god that man was so funny, you loved his weird science jokes and his magic tricks. How were you supposed to not fall in love with him? You asked yourself that question every time he brought you coffee in the morning or went on his rambles about some random thing.
After a particularly intense inquiry from a very drunk Garcia in one of the girls' nights she organized at her home, you told her your feelings for Reid and she made you swear you would act on it.
âGarcia, I'm not confessing. He's not into me like that, iâll just ruin our friendshipâ
âOh honey, he practically kisses the floor you walk in, he follows you around the office like a lost puppy and practically kills any officer that dares to be the tiniest bit mean to you. Thereâs no way heâs not into you, at least try pretty pleaseâ She says, doing puppy eyes at you. Garcia took her job as a cupid very seriously and was not going to let this be her first fail.
âAlright, iâll try but if he ends up hating me youâll have to bake me cookies everyday until i dieâ You say rolling your eyes and finishing your glass of wine.
âOhhh iâll be cooking cookies for you guys wedding!â
â
So, here you are holding his favorite order from the local coffee shop and gathering the courage to press the button to the elevator
âHey are you fine?â A familiar voice calls you, when you turn around its spencer.. Great, guess youâll have to do this right now
âOh hi yeah, I was just um⌠meditatingâ
âDid you know meditanting has been proven to increase your memory and is also great for reducing anxiety. I really should start doing it, what method do you use?â Spencer says while pressing the button to the elevator
âUmmm breath in, breath out i thinkâ You say, unsure how to respond
âThat's actually one of the best ways as it oxygenates your brain and helps it work better, it can also help you feel more calm since deep breathing activates the parasympathetic nervous system that sends a signal to your brain to tell the anxious part that you're safe and don't need to use the fight, flight responseâ He says, doing the little smile and head nod thing he always does after info dumping.
You smile back at him, as you both enter the elevator and press the button to the BAU floor.
âI brought you somethingâ You say, handing him the coffee shop bag
He opens it and smiles at you âI canât believe you remembered my favorites, thank you so muchâ You love that smile so much, all you can think about is how perfect he is and how thereâs no way you can continue on without dating this man.
âActually, I need to tell you something spence⌠I was thinking, maybe we could go out together as like, a date or somethingâ You say, already blushing from the embarrassment you felt and how scared you were that he did not reciprocate the feelings.
âReally? Of course i want, to be honest iâve wanted to ask you to be honest but i thought youâd never see me like thatâ
âAre you kidding me spencer? Iâve had a crush on you since we first meetâ
The elevator gets to the office, and you both walk in blushing and joking about how you two were so blind to each other's feelings. As you get in, garcia passes by you two stopping to stare
âThereâs something happening hereâŚâ She says, pointing between you two and pressing her eyes together as if sheâs profiling you two
âI asked him outâ
âOh my god finally, you see? Iâm always right, I donât even need to ask what he said, look at Reid, heâs glowing, ohh iâm so happyâ She says, walking out to probably tell the news to everyone on the team.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x bestfriend!reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x y/n#criminal minds#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x reader fluff#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid x self insert
787 notes
¡
View notes
Text
(posting some old twitter threads here for posterity's sake)
Chrissy and Eddie breakup. She's a lesbian, apparently. Has finally come to terms with it. It's half a decade of Eddie's life in the dust. He... he doesn't exactly handle it well.
But Steve's there for him, offers Eddie a shoulder to cry on.
Theyâre drunk when Eddie says no oneâs ever been in love with him. Not really. So Steve kisses him.
But Eddieâs straight.
He always has been.
He freaks the fuck out. Bolts. Lets the calls go to voicemail. Heâd lost his partner and one of his best friends in the span of a week and itâs not fair and heâs pissed off beyond belief at Steve for doing it.Â
But heâs also confused. And he also canât stop thinking about it.Â
He stews on it for weeks. Avoids mutual friends like the plague. The band lets people know heâs alive, apparently. Between losing Chrissy and Steve, he feels like there are chunks of him missing. So he gets drunk. Hooks up with blondes who kiss him all wrong.Â
Heâs five whiskeys deep and when he finds himself banging at Steveâs door. Steve answers with his hair mussed and his voice sleep-rough. And Eddie tells him heâs really fucking pissed at him. And Steve apologizes again. And it should be enough but itâs just fucking not.Â
So Steve apologizes again and again and again, all blubbery and guilt-ridden. It's only making Eddie more angry. And he doesnât know why. And heâs too drunk for this shit.
So he shoves Steve against the door and kisses him stupid.Â
He wakes up in his own bed the next morning and he's sure he dreamt it. (Heâs been dreaming it a lot lately.) But his lips are all stubble-scrapped and his mouth is cotton but he remembers how his friend's tongue tasted and he just.. Wants to cry.
Cause heâs not gay. Heâs not. Other people are. Most of his friends are. And heâs fine with that! Heâs been a good ally.
Well, maybe not to Chrissy. But only cause it broke his goddamn heart. Only cause he loved her so much. Only cause he'd never felt that way about anyone before or anyone since.
Except wellâ Fuck. Shit fucking fuck.
So he calls her. Heâs kind of hoping itâll ring through but she picks up straight away, lets out a soft little hey. And it breaks his heart all over again to hear her voice. But he takes a breath and says, âI kissed Steve.â
And she pauses. âYou kissed Steve?"
And then he says, âWell, he kissed me first. But yeah. I got drunk. Jeez Chris, I got wasted. And then Iâ yeah, I kissed him.â
And she's quiet for a long time, just soft breathing and static. Then she says, âThank you for telling me, Eddie.â
And oh. Thatâs what it was, wasnât it?
So they talk about it. All of it. And he really listens to her this time. He couldnât the last time, couldnât hear over the sound of his heart fuckinâ shattering. Then heâs the one blubbering apologies cause his girl was going through all this shit totally alone and he is now way too familiar with how bad it sucks.
And then they talk about It. The big It. All the stuff her mama drilled into her brain since she was in diapers. All the names that got spat at him between hall shoves. Shit they couldnât be 'cause then theyâd be wrong, shit they couldnât be 'cause then theyâd be right.Â
And when theyâre done and the conversation turns into Howâs the band? and Is Marcel still driving you crazy? Eddie feels ten pounds lighter, almost whole again. Like he was but better, all glued together in gold. Well, almost altogether.
He really needs to talk to Steve.Â
He knocks on his door again that night. This time not at 1 AM, this time sober and remarkably dehydrated.
And Steve answers. This time put together, this time hair done and voice in its day pitch (Eddie kinda misses the sleep rasp). And he looks.. fuck. He looks perfect, doesnât he?
Eddieâs spent all day mulling this conversation over. But standing here now heâs coming up blank. He mutters, âI- I was an asshole.â
Steve opens his mouth but Eddie just trucks on.
ââyou were an asshole too, man. But me, uh, probably more?âÂ
And he ignores the way his stupid traitor eyes start to water, always do when the moment feels too big. ââSorry about that. Sorry that I freaked, sorry that I was pissed at you for the shit I was just pissed at myself for. Sorry for, uh. Yelling at you. Sorry, um. Yeah. Sorry for kissing you. That definitely wasnât cool. Itâs been uh... a confusing month. Shit. Iâm so sorry Steve.â
Steve just leans against the door. Normally he wore everything on his face. Couldn't win Texas Hold 'Em to save his life. Not now though. Now it feels like Steve could have a sleeve full of aces and Eddie wouldnât know a thing.
But then he says âEddieâ so quiet it sounds like he hadn't even meant to. Like it just slipped onto his tongue.
Eddie canât do anything but blink, âYeah?â
âLet me um-â Steve swallows, âLet me get this straight. Whereâd you land?â
God, this shit was humiliating, âNot that. Straight. Not straight.â
âOk. Cool.â
âYup.â
âAnd meââ Steve scratches at the back of his neck, âwhere did you land on me?â
Eddie feels like heâs gonna explode. But he canât bolt. Not again. Even though every bone in his body wants to. So he plants his feet, coughs, âWell, I pretty much assaulted you, didnât I?â
Steve rolls his eyes, snarks a laugh. âSure. Yeah. Iâve been totally gone on you since, I dunno, forever. You were straight. You were basically married to your high school sweetheart. All it took was one of those things no longer being true for me to totally nosedive. But sure, you threw yourself at me.â
This was. It was a lot.Â
âSteveââ
Steve waves a hand, stops him. ââNo oneâs ever been in love with you. Not really.â Thatâs what you said, dude. Meanwhile, shit, cards on the table here? Every relationship Iâve had in the last five years has been a pointless attempt to get over you. So yeah, it was weird to hear, Eddie.âÂ
Steve wonât look him in the eye. His neck is craned towards the ceiling.
Eddie whistles through his teeth, âMaybe, uh⌠maybe give me a bit more time?â
âOh.â Steve finally glances up. His poker face is all gone. He looks like a kicked puppy. âYeah, yeah, of course.â
âIâll probably just need a week or two? I mean, fuck man, thatâs a whole other, like Phylum of pornography Iâve been missing out on for the last 25 years. I gotta get myself acquainted before I can, you knowââ He reaches out, rubs at Steveâs bicep with a wink, âGet myself Acquainted.â
Steveâs whole body is shaking. Eddie can feel the relief flitting out of him. âJesus Christ, Munson.â
âThen Iâll take you out, Harrington! Show you the town.â
âDude, will your dick even work at that point?â
âOn the first date?â Eddie gasps, âLord Harrington, how improper!â
Steve just shrugs, âRules are different for guys.â
âWhat? Wait seven years and then hope you land a sexuality crisis?â Then Eddieâs leaning in, closing the space between them. Trying to ignore the pounding in his chest, thinks maybe he's never been so terrified.Â
Steve smiles into the kiss. âYeah, Munson. It's something like that.âÂ
701 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Azriel x Reader: The Bond of a Century
An old request that I decided to revamp
Request prompt: Can I request an Azriel x reader where the mating bond snaps for Azriel but not the reader? Kind of like how Feyra didnât know Rhys was her mate till she was told.
My prompt: A bond forgotten for over a century and a half makes its way back to the forefront. All of it starts with Rhys asking for a favor.
This is a fluffy, steamy, angst-ish fic
I hope you enjoy!!!! My requests are open!!!
____________________________
This was the last thing you thought you would be doing for Rhys. Out of all the things, this-this is what he chose for you to do. Rhys had a sick twisted mind that put you in a situation you had no desire of being in or a part of. You mentally cursed at the high lord, hating him in the moment even though he was your dearest friend. Elain scoured the city for certain pots for her plants, and certain seeds for her garden. Azriel right by her side and you trailing behind them. All you wanted to do was to go back to your home near the docks. It was the first home you had when you first moved from Dawn to Velaris less than a century ago, but with some convincing Rhys and Feyre were able to get you to stay at the town house. It was only then did her sisters arrive, and at some point you were put to the task of keeping an eye on Elain with the occasional visit of Az. Honestly you wished you could train with Nesta, but Cassian was chosen for that task. You wouldnât have minded living in the house of wind-â I think I need to go to Day Court or maybe Spring,Oh perhaps we go to Dawn instead. They must have better pots.â Elain speaks more to Azriel than she does you. You were eyeing the various shops, and the people delighted to be around you, each grinning and waving at you. Another beautiful thing about Velaris youâd come to love. People were kind here.
Azriel smiled softly at her â Of course, if thatâs what you wantâ his voice was tender and sweet. You fought the urge to roll your eyes, turning your attention elsewhere. You hated being there dealing with this shit, but Rhys insisted you tag along, âItâs good for the soul. Get some fresh airâ with that insane cat-like smirk. Ooo you shoot daggers into your mind, a deep chuckle echoing in the background.
â Yes thatâs what I want, thank you Azâ Elain returned the gesture.
â Alright then Iâll let Rhys and Feyre know-â You say as you pinched a flower petal between your thumb and index finger. You looked away from it then back at them. The two watched you with curiosity, you let go of the petal. It was no simple task, an easy reminder of what you needed to do and a simple approval came from Rhys. A gentle poke in your mind causes you to shake your head.â-Let's get this over withâ You take steps towards them placing your hands on their arms you effortlessly winnow the three of you to Dawn. The landing was gentle and less sickening, the three of you placed in a Market, one that you were familiar with.. Elain squealed with excitement as she rushed over to an area where she had seen fresh flowers, a few shops down could be seen a pottery shop, the two of you already trailing her.
â Look at this beautiful bouquet! Y/N? Should we get this for the town house?â She gestures to the bouquet filled with many vibrant colors, various shapes and sizes. You were stumped, she normally doesnât ask you these questions most of the time they were directed at Az.
âThey look lovely Elain, Iâm sure theyâll fit anywhere you put them..â You replied not really sure how to respond. Honestly youâve never really thought about what flowers you liked or didnât . It wasnât something that was ever given to you, nor something you found and immediately fell in love with. You didnât have anything against anyone who knew what they liked, you just-never had the experience of looking forward to your own set of plants. Even when you first attempted gardening most of your plants and flowers died, you simply didnât have the skill or the eye for it..but that was okay, though on rare occasions it was something you wished you had..
Elain smiles awkwardly â Well, maybe we can get it, it might brighten up the home. Make it seem more natural..comfortableâ She pulls out her coins, handing it to the shopkeeper. The three of you move further heading over to the pottery shop that she explained earlier how she wanted to visit. Your eyes searched the area, checking for predators, anyone who might cause harm to the high ladyâs sister, before entering the shop. You had other plans that you needed to attend to while the two looked around, it was in the midst of Elains discussion, mostly to Azriel about the various styles of pottery, that you planned to sneak off. It was only then did a voice capture your attention from behind you.
â Y/N, I must admit I never pegged as you someone who might be interested in potteryâ Thesan, high lord of Dawn, speaks out, the entire shop haunting their work to bow at his presence. He waved his hand dismissing them easily back to work. Azriel positions himself so that he stands near you with Elain behind him, she peers her head out, trying to see who it was that spoke so elegantly. A small smile graces your features at that familiar voice you knew so well as you shifted to face Thesan, who was already grinning. Azriel didnât miss it, taking note of it.
âWhat if I was?â You retorted,
â Then that would be a surpriseâ
âI hate to burst your bubble High Lord but Iâm here on business not for pleasureâ You replied, the two of you sharing a small laugh together. Azriel forced his expression into neutrality, Elains eyes sparkled with curiosity and intrigue. Thesan looks behind you for a moment, taking in the Shadowsinger and the woman next to him.
â Ouch, that one hurt Y/N, I see you brought friends, Shadowsingerâ Thesan greets civilly no hate present.
â Thesan,â Azriel gives a simple head nod in his direction, there was no need for malice, Thesan had always been a great friend of Rhysâs and now apparently yours. Though a feeling crept inside his chest, this odd feeling takes root, Azriel does his best to shove it away, especially with Elain right next to him..
â And you must be Elain, one of the sisters of High Lady Night.â
â Yes I am. Itâs a pleasure to meet youâ Elain smiles with a blush that creeps along her cheeks. She wasnât sure how to respond being that a high lord, whom she never met knew she existed. The surrealness of the situation becomes a reality, the more she realizes how well known her sister is, how well known both of her sisters are including herself. A delighted yet astonishing experience for her, something she wasnât used to yet.
â Same to you, i hope you donât mind if I borrow Y/N for a moment or two, thereâs somethings Iâd like to discussâ Thesan offered but secretly it was a meeting that needed to take place. You were in fact here on business, something that Rhys specifically shared with you and no one else. Dawn used to be your home, but when you were moved to Velaris, you became the seg way for Dawn and Night. Your job was to be the emissary for both sides, keeping the courts relationship in even better shape. You missed your home dearly at times, and you missed Thesan whom you were extremely close too, and who you cared about, even with this being only for business there was some pleasure that came out of it.
â No of course not, Iâm sure she could use a break from us, right Azriel?â Elain looks up to him but his eyes were trained on you and Thesan. You were ready to join him without so much as another word, it struck a nerve in him, why? What could possibly be the topic of conversation between you two? Why do you only need to speak with him? Surely Rhys wouldâve told him what this meeting was about? Why hadnât you come to him for advice or as a second set of ears? Why was the meeting a secret?-âAzriel?âElain calls out to him, you were looking at him suspiciously, your eyebrows furrowed, your eyes flickering across every part of his face and bodily language. Azriel adjusts himself, shielding off whatever thoughts or feelings he harbored in the moment. He blinks, his eyes drift back to Elain then back to you and Thesan â Go ahead, weâll be here in the shop if you need us, we leave in about two hoursâ
â Alright then I will have my men escort the two of you back to my palace.â Thesan replied, You eased the questioning look off your face, you shift back towards Thesan, the two of you walking out of the shop, the conversation immediately flowed. He could see the smile on your face, and yet again the melodic sound of laughter that left your lips. The high lords' guards remained in place while Azriel and Elain both continued their shopping. However, that didnât stop him from taking one last look out the door.
When the two hours were up, Azriel and Elain were guided securely to the Palace where heâd find you and Thesan walking along the hall. Thesan stopped in his tracks grabbing your arm, it forces you to halt in place, your body halfway facing him. His mouth moves but Azriel canât hear what heâs saying, he lifts a hand to your face gently swiping at your cheek. He removes his hand, pulling you gently into a tight embrace. Azriel could see the way you held onto him tightly, as if you dared to let go. The two of you stayed in that position for a few moments until you both eventually pulled away. Why were you crying? Were you hurting? Were they happy tears? Did he say something to you? What was it? There were too many emotions to pinpoint, Azrielâs chest continued to tighten at the emotions he felt. You left Thesans' side offering him one last smile, but that smile fades, when you approach them.
âItâs time, are you ready?â You ask softly, your demeanor changed, a bit relaxed but a heavy weight stays on your shoulders. You roll them back, adjusting yourself. Azriel watches you with such careful eyes, you paid no mind, your thoughts elsewhere.
â Yes-â Elain starts but her gaze flickers back and forth between you both. For Elain it was rather odd to see the two of you interact, when she had met you, your relationship with Azriel was already thin, you were distant with him compared to everyone else. Elain assumed that your relationship had always been like that, but now she wasnât so sure..
â Are you alright?â Azriel asks you, his hand twitches slightly, part of him restrains himself, the other yearned to reach out for you. But you were quick to recover, offering him a reassuring smile.
â Yeah Iâm fine, letâs go.â You placed your hands on both of them, winnowing them back to the town house. There Nuala and Cerridwen greeted the three of you. Nuala took the pots out of Elains hands, Cerridwen took the flowers and placed them in another vase. Elain begins gushing about the journey to Dawn, how gorgeous it was..You sighed exhausted leaving the space quietly to head to your own room. Azriel was about to follow you when Elain called for his help in the kitchen. Azriel hesitated staring up at the staircase. Why couldnât he just talk to you? Heâs a Shadowsinger, a spymaster, and he can pry details out of anyone but you. All he can feel is your emotions-your emotions... Elain had pulled Azriel from his thoughts as she hugged a pot to herself.
âAz? Are you coming?â She says as she waits for him to follow her to the garden. Again he hesitates but he feels a stirring in his chest. Azriel lifts up a hand instinctively touching it, a sharp sensation could be felt beneath his chest. It couldnât be? Could it? Azrielâs eyes widen, Elain takes a breath â Iâll be outside Az when youâre ready-â Azriel moves his feet faster than his mind could process, he was out of the town house door, his wings pushing him off the ground shooting him into the sky, he needing some time to think..
___
The moons at its highest peak, your curtains flowing with gentle breeze that filtered through your bedroom. The candles and lights burnt out signaling that you were asleep, that was until you heard a creak in the floorboard, and the atmosphere changed, a darker presence filled the space. You were lying on your stomach, your hands slipping beneath the pillow as you grip the handle of the blade youâve hidden beneath it. You felt the figure stop just before your bed frame, you could hear them bend down towards your face. As they reached for you, you swiftly reached out a free hand grabbing them, you flipped them onto the bed, rolling over pinning them down with your blade tucked against their neck in the most vulnerable area.
â Itâs only meâ He whispers, the lights in the room reaching a dim hue, illuminating the area.
â Jeez Az, I couldâve killed youâ You replied tiredly, you pulled back the blade placing it on the end table. Azrielâs eyes followed your movement above him, your hips and legs straddling him, your hair in an unruly nature, from slumber. The candles hue amidst the room, caresses your face, your bare legs, your skin making it appear warm to the touch. You had worn a tunic that wasnât yours, it hugged loosely around your body frame. The tunic looked oddly familiar to Azriel but then again he wasnât so sure. All he wanted to do was rip whoevers tunic that belonged to, off of your body and replace it with his.
âIâm sorry, I didnât mean to startle you-â He apologizes,â-I have one question Iâd like to ask youâ Azriel whispers, as he watches your facial expression twitch into a sleepy confusion.
âThis couldnât wait till morning?â You sighed as your hand moved to rub the sleep from your face. You remove yourself from him, you slip off the bed but not before Azriel caught your wrist. He shifts himself so that he sits up lifting himself off the bed. He towers over you, the candle's glowing light touches his features in a way that it could come off intimidating, but there was a more intimate, soft, texture that made him appear more angelic.
â No Iâm afraid not.â He admits.
You nod your headâ Whatâs your question?â
â How long have you known about the bond?âAzrielâs voice low, as if to test the waters but enough to plunge himself. He needed answers and after speaking with Rhys, it was his right.
â What?â Your face dropped, your skin becoming clammy as nervousness passes through you, sleepiness evades you.
â You heard me, answer the questionâ his eyes switch between both of yours, searching and evaluating. He tried to pinpoint every emotion you felt, he tried to feel you through, the only thing stopping him was- you.
â It's not that simple-â You shook your head, pulling your wrist out of his hold. You werenât prepared for this, you werenât ready to unravel all that you worked so hard to ignore.
â It is that simpleâ Azriel continued to pry, he didnât need the bond to notice how uncomfortable and painful this topic was for you-it was news to him, he wanted the truth..no lies no games only the truth
â No, itâs not. Itâs complicated-â You looked away from him moving to the other side of the room. You couldn't find the words to explain this situation, your reasoning. What if what you told him set him off? What if this ruins everything between your friendships? The alliance that has been created? So many thoughts and questions, never enough answersâŚbut for Azriel you did have an answer to his question..
â Complicated enough for you to leave.â It was then that feeling in your chest, it builds a thick pressure. A heavyweight on your shoulders, the air almost sucked out your lungs. â Is that what you told Rhys when you were packing your bags?â You couldnât breathe, Azrielâs footsteps followed you till he was right behind you. You faintly feel the pulse of his surprise and his anger, as if it was your own, but it had been so long since youâd tapped into the bond. You had spent a century ignoring it, shielding it, and now, it was muscle memory..
â Donât make me do this..â You whispered out, a silent plea to move on, to let this go.
â You knew, and yet you decided not to tell meâ His voice held a deep frustration, a deep want and need. He wasnât going to give up, he had a way with finding out the truth..
â Thatâs-not what happened..â You were again stumped with words, torn between giving in or lying, torn between running away or staying..
â No? Then what happened?â He continues to look down at you, you refuse to meet his gaze. Azriel doesnât take no for an answer moving towards the front. He stands in front of you. His smell, his faint emotions from the bond slowly consuming you. It surrounds you, his shadows dance along the edges of the room, waiting, watching, whispering.
â Az-â You warned him, it was another weak attempt to fight him off. But he continued to poke, to pull, to pry, to grasp at anything youâd give him. You were tired, exhausted, hiding your emotions, your thoughts, your protected heart and mind bound to collapse, all secrets were meant to escape..
â I want the truth, Y/N-â. You took a deep breath, your nerves running a mile a minute. His own anxiousness was replaced with a demanding thirst for the truth. A truth that belonged to him too. Youâve kept this wonderful secret to yourself, he watched as his own family found mates that paired well with them. Watching as their life finds the pieces to the puzzle it was missing. Deep down he wanted that very same thing. He felt as though he may not deserve it but he craved it, to be loved unconditionally⌠â-You owe me that muchâ
You sighed, your heart shattering, you gave in, you really hadnât planned too but the look in his eyes-, â..Before Amarantha began her reign, Rhys made an offer to Thesan to let me stay in Velaris, as an emissary between the courts. It was then that I found out that we were mates⌠It was then that the deal was made.â
âAll these years and you kept this to yourself, why?â His eyebrows furrowed.
â Because I knew you were in love with Mor. I wasnât going to take that from you. But I did wait for you, I waited a long time. But when it became an achingly slow desperation, I gave up. I practiced silencing the bond, so I couldnât feel the emotions you felt when you were around other-women..romantically and lustily I mean. Then Elain came around and it was the same process. Iâm exhausted, Azriel. I canât keep doing thisâ
â You didnât bother to try! Youâre running back home because you never thought to ask how I mightâve felt!â His jaw tenses, his head slightly tilted to the side, his frustration grows, at this notion of forcing the information out of you, when you shouldâve let it happen, when you shouldâve told him..
â I didnât because I wanted you to come to your own conclusion. I wanted it to be as natural as possible but you were so invested in Mor and Elain and Iâm not one to take you away from that. But I also miss the people I care about, I miss my old home-Itâs time for me to go-â You protested.
â What does Rhys think of this?â Azriel jaw twitches.
â He was the one who encouraged me to speak with Thesan-â
â Is that what the discussion was between the two of you?â He presses.
â Yes but-â You attempt to defend yourself.
â Y/N, what exactly did you say to him?â Azriel wanted every detail, every version of this story, of his story, of his mates-his mate.
â I didnât- I didnât say anything. I asked if I could return home, and he told me that I should stay here, that if I truly wanted to come home then heâd considered it.â Your heart leaps into your throat, you swallow it back, the feeling collecting.
â His answer wasnât even a Yesâ Azrielâs scoffs shaking his head, his hands on his hips as he looks at the floor and then away at the window.
â Yes- but itâs my decision-â You looked up at him, watching his movements carefully.
â No itâs not, youâre not going back there.â He challenged, his eyes find their way back to yours.
â You canât decide that.â You tell him, the two of you hurting by the weight of your decision. Azrielâs own heart squeezes painfully, at how easy it was for you to say those words to him. You were his, he wasnât going to let you just walk away, not without fighting for you.
â Why not? Youâd already decided to keep this to yourself regardless of how I feltâ He takes a step forward his arms falling back down to his side.
â Azriel please listen to me-â You tried to reason, you tried to find a way to break through, he wasnât thinking straight, you werenât thinking straight, neither one of you.
â No you listen, all those years, all those centuries, you were my friend, and you were someone who loved me. Loved me enough to sacrifice what you felt so I could find happiness. In the depths of my mind I have fought and searched for you without realizing that you were here in front of me..I was too blind to see it. â His hands flew to your face, your jaw, cupping it, his thumbs grazing your cheekbones. Your hands follow suit as your fingers grip his wrists. His shadows remove themselves from the dark corners of your room, shooting out to tangle around your wrists, not to pull your hands away but to hold you there in place. â Please donât run from meâ He whispers, his forehead dipping down to rest on yours. His hands slide from your cheeks to the sides of your neck.
â Az-I canât stayâ You replied quietly, your hands pulling at his wrists weakly at his. You both knew that you could take him down easily, but at this moment in time the two of you were struggling. The tension grew thick in the air. A sort of sharp feeling intensifies, the faded familiarity that was the bond, solidifies. You thought that you had successfully mastered the art of blocking the bond but no. Azriel mustâve truly accepted it, a different feeling takes over, Azriel hums at the feeling. You sucked in a breath.
â You canât leave without knowing Iâve accepted the bondâ His nose brushes against yours. You shook your head once more, completely pushed Azriel away. Your hands fly to your head, your fingers tangling in your hairs. You wanted nothing more than to curl into yourself, this was too surreal, too overwhelming. Youâd spent so long, alone, and working, on occasions waiting. Now you were uncertain, even more than you had been hours ago. Azriel could feel your indecisiveness, he just needed to bring you back to him.
Azriel followed you, he pulled your hands from your hair, one of them he placed on his chest, his heart beating beneath it, you couldnât look at him. But you could feel the gentleness, the love that flowed through him into you. â My heart, my soul belongs to youâ he tries again. You could feel your body sag at the feeling of comfort. It was so intense and welcoming. You wanted to wrap yourself in it-but you fought it, you were so used to the fighting, the restraint, the self control. âLet goâ His voice reaches into the depths of your mind, into your soul, calling out to you.
You placed your forehead on his chest, your hand leaving the area above his heart. Azrielâs wings moved to surround you, his shadows moved to get to you, tangling themselves in your hair, caressing your face and hands. They speak to you wishing you nothing but love and happiness. They bring you comfort, your eyes fluttering shut.
â Y/Nâ Azriel calls out. You could feel his hands cupping your face once more tilting it upwards, his breath light. You could feel how close he was, Azriel was right there, all he needed to do-Azâs lips crashed down onto yours, so soft, and yet his kiss held all his desperation, his passion. He couldnât hold back, not with you, not when he loved you so. You werenât surprised, in fact you hadnât realized how much you yearned for his touch, his kiss. Azriel turns his head to the side deepening the kiss, a quiet moan slips out. By the cauldron Azriel loved to hear that sound, he wanted to hear it again, and again, and again. For as long as he lived and breathed.
You were putty in his hands, the feeling of his touch, his thoughts, his emotions was putting you in overdrive. Your mind couldnât comprehend nor catch up to the pace in which things were happening. Azriel lets go of your lips for a brief moment, allowing you a chance to breathe, a whimper and the need for air also escapes your lips. Azriel had to fight the urge to keep himself from taking you right then and there. You had the urge to let him do it, you placed your hands on his chest pushing him back a step. You couldnât think with him in your space, Azriel wasnât going to budge, but with the way you were so caught up and caught off guard, he let you take a second.
âOkay-â You breathed out. Azrielâs eyes light up, a smile threatens to break out. â I-um-â You cleared your throat,âUh-I-I accept the bond..â you whispered the last part. Azrielâs heart gave a squeeze of joy, his chest filled with lightness, with happiness and relief. All he had ever hoped for had finally come to fruition. A twinkle of mischief sparks in his eyes, a smirk finds its way onto his beautiful features.
â What was that?â He asks, yet you squint your eyes at him, you know he heard, he knows he heard you, but he wanted you to say it again. â-I didnât quite hear youâ You bit the inside of your cheek still squinting at him. You sighed, your body began to relax, your facial expressions changing to that of a sheepishness. You were struggling to admit it, Azriel waited for you patiently.
â I-â
â Yes?â
â Azâ You raised your eyebrows at him, as if to say Iâm trying here.
â Iâm sorry, please go on.â He encourages you.
You sighed as you tried again this time â I accept the bond-â You are much more confident and certain. âIâve loved you since Iâve known you. You were right, my heart and soul belongs to you-âAzriel couldnât contain himself much longer as took you into his arms and spun you around. A victorious grin graced both of your features, and for once the weight of the world didnât feel so heavy in your chests. You gave a light hearted giggle, your heart swooning. Azriel places you back on the ground. You smiled brightly, the twinkle reaching your eyes. âThis is happening?â You asked out loud, you searched for clarification.
â Yeah it isâ Azriel let go grabbing your hand pulling you towards the window. You tilted your head to the side, a sweet smile on your lips, a playful yet teasing expression stretches onto Azrielâs face. âDo you trust me?â his hand extends outward.
â Yes.â You lift your hand to place it into his, this time a new height sense fills both your bodies. The touch feels like a loving hum on your skin. Your minds, your souls, finally resting after all the searching that it had done. You place your hand in his, he guides you out of the window onto the terrace of the town house. You followed him blindly, willingly. Azriel stood taller in the moonlight, and the stars above shining, his shadows nowhere to be found, it was just him. â Az wait- Elain-â
âShe knows, and Iâm sure she will be upset with me, but she has Lucien..She doesnât need me.â He nods. You watch him closely, as you slowly lift a hand to caress his cheek, the touch sweet and warming. Azriel instinctively leans into your touch, turning his head slightly to kiss the palm of your hand.
â Iâm sorryâ You whispered, you realized that you may have ruined a friendship for him, a little bit more than a friendship..
â No Iâm sorryâ he replies as he takes you back into his arms, the sounds of the city's music playing amongst the trees, the flowers, the plants, the night sky seeming more inviting, more alive. All Azriel knew was in this moment in time he finally understood the accept of the bond, the waiting, the calling, you had always been there waiting for him, you gave him time, space, anything he needed to figure himself out..All those times he spent with other women- then it dawned on him, had you done the same? You chuckled upon feeling that jealous emotion. â Whoâs tunic are you wearing?â
â Az, itâs yoursâ
â What-â You peel yourself out of his arms.
â This tunic you let me borrow on a mission we had, remember? Court of nightmares? I was stuck in a brothel, I ended up fighting my way out, my clothes were completely shredded?â You offered bits and pieces of the memory, Azrielâs takes a moment to recollect and it hits him.
â Yes I remember, you ate a bowl of soup that night at one of the hostels. You hated it,â He chuckled as he remembered the disgusted look on your face. You laughed alongside him. You moved to head back towards your room but Azriel was quick to catch your hand.
âWhere are you going?â
âUm-to make you something, we still have to seal the bond.â
â Not hereâ
â Then where?â Azriel grins as he throws one of your arms around his neck, one catches your back the other catches your knees.
â Somewhere private, where I can have you all to myself, no distractions, just you and meâ He whispers to you, his face dipping closer to yours, you sucked in a small breath, the blood beneath your skin singing, practically humming. His arms tightened their hold on you pressing you as flush to him as possible. Azriel looks away and upwards towards the night sky, his wings strong as they help push the two of you off the ground. Excitement filled the air, the night, seemed sweeter, less stuffy, inviting. You guessed that Thesan was right for making you stay here, to reconsider, you were thankful that he pointed you back in the direction of your mate. Azriel was happy that his brother fought for his love, fought for him to find happiness. It was more than just two courts keeping a civil peace, it was about two souls that needed to find each other, even if it takes a century.
#azriel x y/n#azriel x you#azriel fluff#azriel smut#azriel angst#azriel shadowsinger#azriel spymaster#azriel x reader#azriel x female!reader#poc reader#x reader#x y/n#imagines#acotar x reader#acotar fluff#acotar angst#acotar smut#acotar x you#acotar#fanfic readers#x poc reader#fluff#fanfic
2K notes
¡
View notes
Text
chapter one - the proposal
synopsis: Y/N, a 28-year-old dreamer whose plans for marriage and motherhood crumbled when her fiancĂŠ, Jae-on, decided to "see other people," leaving her adrift in a sea of unfulfilled expectations. Just as sheâs about to face the cringe of attending his baby shower with his new girlfriend, her best friend Jungkook swoops in with a wild idea; why not embark on a platonic co-parenting adventure together?
pairings: jeon jungkook + reader genre ⸠romance [mature content in future chapters
Jungkookâs place felt like a second home to you. There was something about the way the late afternoon light filtered through his sheer curtains, casting a soft, golden glow across the room, that always made you feel⌠safe. His apartment wasnât anything fancy, just a cozy, lived-in space, but it was warm, invitingâeverything you needed right now. You sank deeper into the couch, clutching the throw pillow to your chest, feeling its familiar softness as you stared absently at the half-finished jigsaw puzzle on his coffee table. There were still pieces scattered everywhere, a mess that neither of you seemed too bothered to clean up. It was one of those things youâd start but never quite finishâlike most of your plans lately.
The sound of clinking dishes came from the kitchen as Jungkook rummaged through his cabinets. "Tea or coffee?" he called, breaking the comfortable silence.
"Tea," you answered, your voice quieter than you meant it to be. You rubbed your forehead, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on you all over again.
You heard him chuckle softly. "You okay in there? Youâve been weirdly quiet since you got here."
Was it okay? Not really. But you didnât want to say that out loud just yet. "Yeah, Iâm fine. Just... thinking."
"Thinking doesnât look good on you," he teased as he stepped back into the living room, carrying two steaming mugs. He handed you one, sitting down next to you on the couch, close enough that his shoulder brushed yours. "Talk to me."
You took the mug from him, warming your hands on the ceramic before exhaling a long sigh. "Itâs Jae-on."
There it was. His name, still bitter on your tongue, even after all this time. It had been over a year since Jae-on called off the engagement. A year and a half, actually, but who was counting? You, apparently. You hated that you were still thinking about him, that he still had some kind of hold over you, even though you both moved on.
Jungkook gave you a knowing look, resting his arm on the back of the couch as he turned slightly to face you. "Whatâs he done now?"
You hesitated, feeling the familiar knot of frustration and resentment tightening in your chest. "Heâs... getting married."
Jungkook didnât blink. "I see." His voice was calm, measured, like he was processing it carefully.
"And not just that," you continued, your fingers tightening around the mug. "Theyâre having a baby. Jae-on and Garam."
You said her name like it was a bad word, which, in your mind, it was. Garam. The girl from high school who always seemed to have her life together, who always got what she wanted, and apparently now, that included your ex-fiancĂŠ.
Jungkook raised an eyebrow. "Yu Garam? The one who used to follow you around like a puppy?"
"The very one." You groaned, sinking further into the couch. "Can you believe it? Theyâre throwing a baby shower, and guess whoâs invited."
His expression softened, a flicker of understanding crossing his face. "You donât have to go, you know."
"I know." You stared down into your tea, swirling it absently. "But part of me feels like... I should. Like I have something to prove."
"To Jae-on?"
"To myself, I guess." The words came out slower than you expected, as if you were admitting it for the first time. "I thought Iâd have it all by now, you know? The husband, the kids, the house with the white picket fence. And instead, Iâm sitting here... single. Childless. Invited to my exâs baby shower." You let out a humorless laugh. "Itâs ridiculous."
Jungkook was quiet for a moment, just watching you. His presence, as always, was steady, grounding. "Itâs not ridiculous, Y/N. You had a plan. It just... didnât go the way you thought."
You shook your head. "My planâs been wrecked, Kook. Nothingâs gone the way I wanted it to."
"That doesnât mean you canât still have what you want," he said, his tone thoughtful. There was something about the way he said it, though, that made you glance at him, catching a glint of something unfamiliar in his eyes.
"What do you mean?"
He hesitated, like he was weighing his words carefully. "You want kids, right? Youâve always wanted to be a mom."
"Yeah... obviously." You frowned slightly. "But thatâs not happening anytime soon."
"Why not?"
You blinked, unsure where this was going. "Because... Iâm single? You kind of need someone to make that happen, Kook."
He shifted on the couch, leaning forward a little, his arm brushing against yours. The closeness felt... different. Warmer. He was looking at you in a way you couldnât quite place, a softness to his gaze that made your stomach flip.
"You donât need someone else," he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. "You have me."
You froze, your mind trying to catch up to what he was saying. "Wait... what?"
Jungkook smiled, a small, almost shy smile, which was so unlike him it threw you off balance. "Iâm serious. You want a baby, right? Why not do it together?"
You stared at him, your heart suddenly beating louder in your ears. "Together? Like... us?"
"Yeah." His eyes were steady, sincere. "Weâve known each other for years. Weâd make great parents. We donât need to complicate things with romance or any of that. We could just... raise a kid together. Be a family."
For a second, you didnât know what to say. The idea was... insane. Wasnât it? And yet, as he sat there, his expression so earnest, so serious, you found yourself... considering it.
"But, Kook," you started, your voice shaky, "this is huge. I mean... having a baby? Thatâs not something you just... do."
"I know," he said, his voice still soft, his eyes never leaving yours. "But youâre my best friend. Iâd be with you every step of the way. You wouldnât have to do it alone."
Your mind was spinning. This was Jungkook. Your best friend. The one person who had been there for you through everything, and now... he was offering you something you hadnât even thought was possible. A way to have the family you wanted without waiting for someone else to come along.
But was it really that simple?
Before you could respond, your phone buzzed on the coffee table. You glanced down and saw the email notification. You already knew who it was from.
"Baby shower," you muttered, picking up the phone and showing him the screen. "Jae-on and Yu Garam are sending invites."
Jungkookâs eyes darkened slightly as he looked at the email, then back at you. "Well," he said, his voice lower now, "maybe when we go, weâll have our own announcement to make."
You blinked, your heart jumping at the sudden shift in his tone. Was he... serious?
"You really mean that?" you whispered, searching his face for any sign that he might be joking.
But his expression was calm, sure, and when he spoke again, his voice was firm. "Iâm dead serious, Y/N."
The air between you felt different nowâheavier, charged with something you couldnât quite name. This was Jungkook, your best friend. The person you trusted most in the world. And yet, here you were, teetering on the edge of something that could change everything.
"Think about it," he said softly, leaning just a little closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "It could be exactly what you need."
Taglist: @unoneed2know @lola75111 @ggukiescookies @junecat18 @futuristicenemychaos @pinkpunkdynamite @captainengineer-trixie @freshmoondragon @mar-lo-pap @whoa-jo @chimmisbae @ttanniett @jksusawife @knjjjk
#jungkook#kpop#bts#bts smut#bangtan#jungkook smut#jeon jungkook#kpop smut#jungkook fluff#jjk#best friends to lovers#fake dating#army
618 notes
¡
View notes
Text
What We Want - Chpt. 8 - Jason Fucking Todd
In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe
(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!
SUMMARY
Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.
Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?
As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.
And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.
Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?
(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)
PREV - NEXT
Well, look on the bright side of things. Youâre not crying right now. Thatâs nice. Youâre not an intern anymore. Thatâs nice. You struggle to think of anything else. Oh yeah, youâre rich! Thatâs also nice. Youâre not dead. Nice.
This is kind of pathetic. You just feel bummed after having to break up with George a second time. And getting smacked right in the face by him. Which you know, anybody would be, you think. You donât think a single soul has ever known the George Lancaster Break-Up Special more than once. And you didnât think anyone would be stupid enough to fall for that asshole more than once.
You couldnât fake a brave face anymore, you just didnât have the energy for it.
âŚAnd letâs not forget almost dying via Joker goon. Not even the man himself, just a random lackey. You think of how he literally disappeared in front of your eyes, and decide you are going to stop thinking. Itâs doing you no good anyway.
Instead, you just start walking. Letting your feet and your intimate knowledge of Gothamâs streets, even in this area you donât often frequent, guide you. You find yourself at the train station. With little consideration, you buy a ticket to the southern part of the city. The bad side of town, the docks, where your apartment used to be.
You feel like a little rat scurrying back into the sewers as you hop on the subway, tucking yourself in between people who donât recognise you, probably because of your general dishevelment.
Shoulders knocking against strangers, you feel the most at home since this whole disaster started. You stare across the train car, watching a baby babble to its mother. It catches your eye, gives you a big toothless smile, and some snot dribbles into itâs mouth. The mother notices and cleans the baby up with a tissue. When she catches you staring, you give a very awkward but friendly smile, and she smiles back.
A tiny weight lifts off your shoulders. Surrounded by the chaos of Gotham, as the subway exits the tunnels and heads up onto the sky rails, you find yourself warm by the rays of sun through the clouds. The view is beautiful, as it always is. Usually, youâd be looking at your phone, too busy to enjoy the sights. But it really is beautiful.
Itâs only when you hear the announcer calling out that you realise you did this for a reason, and dart out of your seat and through the narrowly closing doors. The metal closes behind you with a small hiss. The Docks station, for most people, would be one of the better Gotham train stations. Newly built, and with all the tourist money it was clean. Well, clean as it could get. Youâd read some article about the bacteria the rats were carrying being not found anywhere else on earth, and youâd decided to stop reading articles.
Anyway, for you, even the shining marble of the station was a sad sight. Because you only ever came here on your very worst days.
This seemed like one of them.
The familiar streets flit past you, barely something youâre even cognisant of. This part of the city was mostly new, the concrete fresh under your feet instead of littered with potholes. Still, it wasnât at the centre of the blast radius, so it hadnât been totally demolished.
No, that was just up ahead. And like everything else in this weird new world, you immediately noticed something different. Where your family had died was⌠still there, for some reason.
With confusion, exhaustion, and no small bit of despair, you stop in the middle of the pathway outside the remnants of what used to be an old diner and was now just a pile of rocks. Some very charred rocks. Looking at the wreckage, you raise your brows. Its crumbling form is still under construction after all these years. The yellow caution tape is only a deterrence to you because you donât want to end up on the gossip reels for a second time today. Looking around, you find yourself further confused. Lots of other parts of the pier had been redeveloped, but this piece of the puzzle still lay bare.
It didnât, in your home, your world. It had been replaced with high-rise apartments, and since they were so close to the water, so pretty and new, you had no hope of affording them. It probably wouldnât be very good for your mental health even if you could. Still, youâd taken many walks past the street. Enjoyed the little bit of dirty white concrete that had survived. You and your siblings had signed your names into it, and youâd stroked the sidewalk like the weirdo you were many times.
Like you did today. And today, for some reason, the rest of it was here. Untouched. A remnant of the disaster. As you run your thumb along the sharp edge of Julieâs J, you find yourself once again lost in your memories. They were like honey traps to you these days.
The mum-and-pops diner had been run by your uncle. Itâd been in the family for three generations, and he was incorrigibly proud of it. Youâd all had your birthday parties there, because it was free and you were poor. It wasnât like your uncle would let you pay for the food anyway, it was just one of the few times Mum could stand the generosity. She didnât like it when you had disappointing birthdays, and no matter how much you tried to fake your happiness, she could always see to your core. Eventually, you and your siblings all gave up on trying.
You were late. You were often late, but this time it was⌠it was the difference between life and death. If youâd been a few blocks further, a little bit earlier, youâd probably be dead too. Or at least have some serious hearing loss instead of just suffering mild tinnitus.
You had felt more than seen the destruction. The earth had rumbled, and a deafening roar had swept through the streets. You remember falling to your knees, the worry about being late morphing to worry for your best clothes to a true terror when you realised where the blast had come from.
When you realised your family was in the epicentre.
You sometimes wish you were on time that day. That youâd gotten to see them all, even if you went with them. It didnât sound so bad, really. At least you wouldnât be alone. Hmm, you should probably stop thinking like that. Or maybe go to a therapist about it.
Not that you could afford it. Oh, right. Rich now. That was really taking some getting used to.
You wonder if people who won the lottery felt the same way. Probably not, because the rest of the world reflected the changes the person felt. Theyâd have to go pick up the check, go to the bank, and if they let their family and friends know, deal with the consequences of that.
Youâd just woken up rich. No time to adjust, your new life was here and it was demanding your attention very loudly. And soup-ly, unfortunately. After a few minutes of staring blankly at the rubble, you look towards your left, where you know the Memorial awaits you. Itâs in the centre of the new shopping district, built on top of the bombed parts of Gotham. It sits right next to the water, the cold breeze a comfort that youâd turned to on more than one occasion.
Youâd feel bad if you didnât change your clothes. You told Grayson you would, and you already felt bad enough about... everything to do with him. You suppose he was your brother. Your ex-brother. Ex-step-brother. The ex-step-brother of a woman who you werenât.
Really, he was just a stranger. It seemed he didnât feel that way, though.
You start the walk towards the shopping district, and into the first clothes store you see. The prices on the tags would usually make you flinch, but well, it doesnât matter anymore. Nothing seems to matter. Your survival is now guaranteed, might as well wear some clothes that feel nice on your skin.
You walk out of that store looking like you just robbed it. Even the clerk had given you a weird look but accepted the black card tucked in your phone without much complaint. Itâs an improvement if a small one.
Once youâre done, like a moth to a flame, you drift towards the Memorial centre. Youâre following all the steps you used to in the past, but somehow, it all feels a bit alien. The world looks a little different, a little uncomfortable. Your shoes are worn in, and yet they still feel too tight.
Uncanny valley. You feel unwelcomed here, unwanted. Like the very earth can tell that thereâs something wrong in this scene, some intruder. You ignore the feeling as best you can.
The Memorial is just as unfamiliar as the diner was, maybe even more. You know that your mother was a Wayne before she died. You know that. But still seeing your familyâs framed photos, right alongside Jason's is so shocking you nearly jump. It takes a moment of wide-eyed staring before you can manage to get past that. When you do, for some reason you still go back to your old habits. You walk by them, the bouquets and to where their names used to be in thin letters.
You count with your fingers, finding the fifty-second line.
A manâs name replaces the spot where your motherâs is. The little grooves the oil in your fingers had left behind were gone, and instead was sharp stone like when the monument was first erected. It cuts at your fingers. It no longer welcomes your touch.
James Whitaker. Thatâs the name of the man who took their spot.
You can already feel a rising obsession with the random dead man. If you were going to psycho-analyse yourself, youâd recognise that you didnât feel that the images of the Waynes youâd created were no longer real, no longer safe to your escapist mindset. Youâd realise, that this was all pretty unhealthy, and you really, really needed therapy.
Instead, you give the guy your condolences and start reading the other plinths. They seem largely the same. Itâs not like you hadnât read all of these towers of stone at one point or another, your eyes glazing over the many, many names. So much devastation, all in one moment.
And still, this was not even a tenth of all the lives the Joker had taken. You kinda wanna go take a kick at one of the Bat signals littered around the city. Maybe thatâd make you less⌠broiling with incompetent rage.
Again, maybe you should just go to therapy. You should call Jeanine about that or something.
Eventually, you circle back to your family and Jasonâs shrines. You know, back then youâd been jealous that Jason Todd had been so well mourned. Youâd wished your family had gotten the same treatment.
Now, you⌠felt jealous again. Possessive, over their memory, their image. You didnât really like that random strangers that never knew them⌠knew them. That Sam always got As in English and Art class but would sometimes skip math and would hide in the bathrooms to do so. That Chasey had struggled with going to school because of her anxiety but kept going because she had a friend going through the exact same thing. That Julie was the ace of her schoolâs soccer team, and that sheâd almost gotten them to nationals even in the presence of all the super-rich schools in Gotham. That your Mum was a great cook but genuinely hated doing it, but for some reason, baking was her favourite thing even as she had never made a proper macaron.
They didnât know them. They knew their faces and a facsimile of them, but they didnât know them. It reminded you of the people at the orphanage. Nice, but not kind. Theyâd had their own lives, they didnât want some bratty, demented teenager who was going down and planning on taking everyone with her.
You really couldnât be happy, could you? Maybe you didnât know what you wanted. What you want now. What youâd wanted for a while, actually.
Ugh. You close your eyes and let out a deep, soul-shaking sigh. It takes a moment for you to shore up the willpower to open them again. Come on, flower shop, finish your weird little ritual then you can go home and hide for the next millenia.
The walk there is the same as always, if a little more morose. Itâs in a good spot, near the church just a block away and the memorial on its other side, as well as less sombre atmospheres down near the pier. Well, as little sombre as Gotham can manage.
You feel like you blink and youâre there. Too quickly, you find a rainbow of blooms in front of you, the scent of the blossoms washing over you. When you walk into the flower shop, the bell at the door rings the same as it always does. On autopilot, you walk over to the small, cheaper buds. Your hand clenches around the crinkly wrapping paper, a bundle of posies in your hand. You go to the counter with your prize in hand.
Larissa, the counter worker, smiles at you. Your breath hitches. Itâs a working smile, not one of the real, toothy ones she used to give you.
âOh wow, I thought all the posies had sold out. Lucky you!â
You think of something to say, but the moment passes and you donât. She rings you up, tells you the price, and when you pay, asks sweetly if you want a receipt.
She doesnât say your name. Doesnât acknowledge how you come here every week and buy this same handful of flowers. She doesnât ask about your job or the weather. She doesnât cheerfully tell you about how her apprenticeship is going, or about the next sweet thing her partner has done. No, she just stares at you, growing more uncomfortable the longer it takes for you to answer.
She doesnât even seem to recognise this other version of you. It feels like another string that tied you down to the earth has been snipped. You have an image in your head of a child losing a balloon, desperately grasping at the air. Youâre going to float up into the atmosphere, and then youâre going to pop.
You can see the foil glinting in the sunâs light, so, so clearly.
You squeeze your eyes shut, âYes, a receipt, please.â
Taking it blindly, you barely flutter your eyes open as you walk out of the shop. She didnât know you, didnât remember you. That doesnât matter, you tell yourself. You hadnât really known her. It doesnât matter. Thereâs no real difference, it doesnât matter.
Itâs okay, itâs okay, it never really mattered. You keep telling yourself this as you walk back over to the memorial. As you lay your flowers down with the others, the little posies are dwarfed by the other donations. It didnât matter. You didnât know her. None of this matters. Their flowers donât matter.
You donât matter. You hit that errant thought with a mental fly swatter.
Exhausted, you sit down next to the monument. You used to be able to lay your head on the stone, able to feel your family in the warmth it had absorbed in the sun. Now you just sort of, awkwardly reached out to the small bit of uncovered plinth at the side. You have to stick your hand through a wreath to do so.
Itâs not warm. You wonder if your family are sad. And then you wonder if youâre an idiot for attributing feelings to a literal rock.
After a while, you get up. Cross your arms. You stare at your family's portraits, eyes moving over their smiles. One by one. You recognise some of the photographs, those are your favourites. A smile cracks across your face when you see the picture of when Chasey lost her two front teeth. She still grins cheekily at the camera, uncaring for any changes to her appearance, as all kids shouldnât.
Your shoulders fall just the slightest bit when you see the picture of Jason Todd. Itâs one of his older pictures. Probably seventeen or something. Heâd always been a lovely boy when he was younger. And he still was up till he died but youâd always thought youâd seen something start to change in him. That sparkle of innocence, dulled, just the slightest.
And then heâd died. And youâd wondered if maybe heâd felt it was coming.
You certainly hadnât. It had been like a hurricane tearing through your life. Youâd ended up on the other side completely abandoned, the only friend whoâd bothered to keep seeing you being one whoâd learnt to dodge train ticket costs like a damn ninja. And youâd had to decide whether you could keep doing this, whether you even wanted to.
You were an obsessive creature by nurture. It had been all you could do to hang onto the Waynes, pretend they would love and care for you even if theyâd have never even noticed you in real life. You werenât sure that was strength or simple human survival. Dying was scary. Of course, you were scared of dying.
Your whole family had died. So, you told yourself, that Jason Fucking Todd would be sad if you killed yourself, and somehow, you had made it all these years.
And now here you were, and the Waynes did notice you in real life. You were important to them. You didnât want to be, but you were. And again, you have to ask yourself, what would Jason Todd ask of you? What would he want you to do now, in this impossible situation youâve found yourself in?
You stare at the picture. Stare at the way the sun hits his dark hair and blue eyes. Stare very, very hard. Like he might crawl out and give you a detailed list of what to do. Youâd really like a detailed list. Or any guidance at all. Maybe you could go hit up a seance or something.
Your head falls forward into your sun-warmed palms. This is so stupid. No answers are going to fall from the sky, you need to find them yourself. And youâre not going to find them here.
Someone walks up beside you to the old memorial, and you quickly tuck yourself back into an acceptable image. Fold in all the rough edges you can. A tall and well-built man, with a face mask, sunglasses and a trucker hat, he looks like he could be a celebrity or something. Someone important, much more than you.
And you werenât, not technically, at least. The universe had done the equivalent of a shelving error, and now here you goddamn were.
He does an odd pose next to you, something military-esque, where he clasps his hands together and bows his head. With a quick flick of your eyes you confirm, yes, his feet are equal with his shoulders. Itâs obvious that heâs paying his respects so you do your best not to judge him too hard.
And then he speaks to you.
âIâm sorry.â
You look up, startled and confused.
âFor your loss,â the deep voice finishes, jerking his head toward the pictures in front of the two of you.
âWha- oh uh, um,â you blink and then realise that this person has recognised you, which would make sense since you are literally in one of the photos in front of you, and manage to pull your fading conscious mind back together for a moment more.
âThank you, uh-â you stare at him a moment longer, âYou too?â
Almost worse than that time you told the barista who gave you your coffee you hoped she enjoyed hers too, but not quite. Well, you know, heâd probably lost someone here too. You donât know why heâd be here otherwise unless he wanted an autograph or something. The thought almost makes you laugh.
He snorts at your words. You donât know what to make of that.
He looks back down at the pictures and flowers. You think he does, at least, from the slight shifting of his head. Heâs kind of mysterious. Pair that with the deep voice, the muscular and tall physique, and youâre an odd mix of attracted and socially anxious. Not that youâre not always socially anxious, but this guy feels⌠strong. Dumb again, you can see his biceps from here butâŚ
You just canât quite shake it off. Strong. Strong.
âThey didnât deserve it, none of them did,â he speaks again, and you wonder what the fuck heâs going on about at all.
You admit, you sound a little bitter when you mutter, âWell, thatâs obvious.â
He lets out a bark of laughter, and you see his eyes flash to you from under his sunglasses. A shade of blue. Thereâs another odd pause, and then he turns to you. You donât know why heâs looking at you. He crosses his arms, and seems to size you up.
âWhat are you doing here?â he asks you like he knows you.
Your brow furrows. Okay, kind of losing any hotness points here. Bothering someone who was grieving couldâve been seen as rude from the very start, but youâd just thought he was weird. Now, you thought he was weird and rude.
ââŚPaying my respects. Obviously,â you gesture downwards, âMy mother, my siblings, andâŚâ
Well, how would you describe the relationship between you and Jason Todd now? He was still just a stranger to you and-
âWith who, that guy?â
Now, it isnât often that youâre stunned into silence, but at the moment you canât find it in you to do anything but stare and gape. Frankly, youâre astonished! Youâve never met anyone who spoke so rudely of the dead, and well, he couldnât have picked a worse person to do it in front of.
âExcuse me?â your voice canât seem to convey even half of your offence, even as you sound like youâre about ready to bite a second person for today. The man pauses like youâve surprised him, which- what the fuck is going on? Why do you feel like an alien crash-landed on Earth these days?
âNo, I just meant-â he huffs, shakes his head, and continues, his voice now offended too, âWhat the fuck am I saying? Yes, I did mean that. That little twerp was a naive idiot who was manipulated by the people he believed in most.â
You stare, absolutely speechless, as the stranger goes on a damn-fucking-near crazed rant about one of the people most important to you. Never met? Sure. Dead as hell? Absolutely. But still, he was one of your lifelines. Your candlelight in the dark, guiding your way even when you felt completely lost. And now heâs calling him a naive idiot? You can practically feel the steam coming out of your ears.
âHe changed nothing, made no difference in the end-â
âNothing?!â you practically shriek, finally able to find your voice just to use it to shout, âHe changed⌠so much! He donated millions of dollars, did heaps of charity work, was practically a treasure to our city⌠He made multiple homeless shelters, an orphanage, helped rehabilitate criminals and countless other things.â
Your fists are clenched tight enough that they shake. You hide them behind your back, but you still feel like he can probably see them. Your emotions are simmering too close to the surface, bubbling over and onto the floor. About to burn his sneakers to ash.
âYou seem like you care a lot,â he says, sounding reserved.
âOf course, I care.â
ââŚItâs just, you didnât seem the type, on the TV,â he keeps talking, poking at you for some god-awful reason, and you bark out a harsh laugh.
âMaybe people need to stop making so many fucking assumptions, then? It certainly hasnât gotten you anywhere,â you throw your hands up, damn sick of all the constant fucking surveillance youâre under. You can see why this version of you lost her mind. Youâre near about to as well.
He stares at you for a moment longer, and you start feeling too uncomfortable. Itâs a stupid and useless protectiveness that has you staying. Like heâll somehow try and harm the shrine to your people. Itâs happened before, Joker fanboys defacing it and such. This guy could be one of those bastards.
And yet⌠somehow you feelâŚ
âIâll keep that in mind,â he finally says.
âGood, you do that.â
âBut in the end, nothingâs really changed. Jokerâs still out and about, as you well know.â
You physically flinch like youâve been slapped. For a good minute there, all you can do is stare at him in disbelief. You raise one shaking fist, and lift one trembling finger, pointing. The man looks in the direction youâve pointed, and when he doesnât see anything, turns back to you. His sunglasses reflect the grey afternoon sun.
âGo,â you order, voice shaking just like the rest of you.
He just keeps staring at you. You wish heâd take off those dumb fucking glasses, so you could see this assholeâs face. Etch it into your mind. He doesnât move, doesnât say anything, doesnât take any action. He simply waits for you to⌠Well, you donât know what youâll do. You havenât known what youâd do since you left Dick behind two hours ago.
âYou need to go,â you say again, and again, he doesnât fucking move, âYou⌠thereâs⌠you have no right.â
You can hear the buzz of the city around you, the wind rushing by. His clothes rustle in the wind. Your voice sounds too loud in your ears, but he wonât just⌠he wonât leave. You donât want this stranger here, watching you. Judging you. Itâs allâŚ
âJason didnât do anything wrong,â you say, and you think to yourself, desperately, âI didnât do anything wrong.â
Thereâs a slight shift in the strangerâs posture. His shoulders tensed.
You think youâve offended him.
âThe Joker⌠Thatâs nobody's fault but the government for not just sucking it up and giving him the death penalty, or Batmanâs for not doing it himself a long time ago. Theyâre all fucking useless, but theyâre the ones who are supposed to be dealing with this!â you continue, your words growing more heated. Itâs only the already looming threat of an assault case that keeps you from shoving the guy. Not like youâd be able to move him an inch, of course, he was huge.
Youâre sure it would feel good, though.
âIt was never some random teenager's responsibility, and it wasn't mine either,â you say, but find yourself pausing for a moment when you hear the end of your sentence. It doesnât matter. Itâs not like it wasnât obvious anyway.
Youâd tied yourself and Jason up together in your head. To you, you were both two sides of the same coin. One foot in the grave. Youâve got one foot in the graveâŚ
âJason Todd was a good person, and he made the world a better place.â
You look down at the portrait of the boy, his toothy smile twisting at your heart. None of this was fair. None of this had ever been fair. Why was this guy acting like anybody here had ever been able to do anything about it? Like Jason shouldâve been smarter, and avoided a fucking bomb blast?
It was stupid. This was stupid, and you were over it. You were tired.
âAnd I miss him.â
Itâs quiet after you say that.
âI donât know how you can think itâs fair to act like his death was pointless when⌠of course it was, all of this was pointless,â you say, throwing your hands wide and gesturing to the entire memorial. âThis was a tragedy, but Jason was a victim. And Iâm sick of people like you who think they can decide whether someone elseâs life was lived right. Itâs not your damn right.â
âNow⌠fuck off!â you announce, and to your shock, he does. He fucks right off. The man gives you one last lingering look, and then turns and leaves without another word. Not like you needed them.
You huff out a shocked breath, and then turn back to the memorial.
The framed faces of your loved ones stare back at you, and for all you know itâs stupid, you canât help but feel embarrassed for the display. You know your mother wouldâve scolded you for your language, at least.
âSorry,â you say, and youâre unfortunately reminded of that irritating man again. Likely that wonât be the first time he pops up again in your head. He seemed well, insane. Which wasnât that odd in Gotham but⌠god, you just couldnât seem to let it go.
It pissed you off to high heaven. His rudeness was something youâd usually be able to shrug off, especially from some random stranger, but, but, but-! Argh, damn it all. And it wasnât like that was the first time you had had that sort of conversation, but it was certainly the first time someone had been so bold as to bring it up in front of your dead motherâs smiling face.
Earlier today had snuffed out the fire in you, but that encounter had been the spark to reignite it. More than that, actually. It had made you so damn pissed, made your blood boil in a way you just couldnât ignore, to the point that you wanted to prove him wrong.
Jason Todd had mattered and had made a difference and change in Gotham. He had made a change in you. You put your hands on your hips, stare down at the flowers, and make a decision.
Youâre going to fix your goddamn life. For Jason Fucking Todd.
Your body feels like shit, your brain feels like itâs stuffed with cotton wool, and yet this is the greatest opportunity youâve ever been given. You have a chance to save yourself, and save your friends, and fix all the tiny little problems in Gotham that youâve suffered through since childhood. Surely just throwing enough money at all your problems would fix some of them.
You were rich. If you couldnât fix your life with millions of dollars available, then you had no chance.
And yeah, you donât know what youâre doing. You know you canât really change what happened. Back then or even just a few days ago. But you hate that. You hate it so much. You hate how weak you are in the face of loss. How both then and now, thereâs nothing you can really do. And maybe if just out of spite, towards that asshat, Batman, Joker and everyone else, you want to make a change.
You want to be able to do something about it. You want it, so fucking bad.
First order of business?
âŚYou want more flowers.
MASTERLIST - NEXT
#Series:WWW#yandere batfam#batfam x reader#yandere dc#yandere batfamily#yandere x reader#dick grayson x reader#nightwing x reader#jason todd x reader#red hood x reader#tim drake x reader#red robin x reader#damian wayne x reader#robin x reader
657 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Wild, Wild West đ
Introduction fic for my cowboy OC idea. I hope you guys like this. This was in my drafts for at least half a year, haha.
Pairing: Yandere Cowboy x City Girl! Reader
Format: Short fic; 1.4k words
WARNING(S): Yandere themes, possessive, minor insecurity from reader.
Synopsis: Jealousy, Jealousy, read all about it! When in a new environment, insecurities are bound to surface. Why don't you go get you a drink to simmer down a bit?
REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!
The old Texas sun was relentless, harsher than usual, beating down on the skin of those poor townspeople just going about their day. Its temper reminded you of your late grandmother, always nagging and pestering like there was no tomorrow.
You found refuge near the large clumps of hay by the stables. The smell was familiarâunpleasant, sure, but nothing you couldnât handle.
Why the hell were you out here? Damn you for wanting to tag along, keeping that big oaf company. He couldnât stop poking fun at you, pushing you past your limits. It was like he knew you inside and out, from the surface of your pampered skin to the depths of your fluttering heart. For a man who wasnât too fond of school, he sure seemed to study you a lot.
And speak of the devil. He wiped dirt and grime off the worn denim that hung low at his waist. âWhatâs the matter, darlinâ?â he called out, glancing over his shoulder to meet your eyes. âYou donât look too hot.â
Hell, that was an understatement.
He sauntered over, slipping his hat off his head. His long strides had him at your side in moments, staring down at your seated position. Pushing his deep auburn hair from his damp skin, he squatted next to you. âWhatâs the matter?â he asked, placing the hat back on his head.
You pressed your lips into a thin line, torn between telling him and keeping your annoyance to yourself. You werenât even doing any heavy lifting, just spectating, but somehow, that made the heat even worse.
âItâs hot,â you mumbled, swallowing your pride.
âThen take your shirt off.â He grinned, raising a brow. âItâs just you ân me today, and itâs not like I havenât seen you without it anyhowââ
âStop!â you shouted, hugging your knees to your chest. If not for the heat, youâd have flushed even redder.
âAlright, suit yourself.â Jamie smirked, planting a kiss on your temple before rising to his feet in one swift motion. He turned back to his polished truck, the one he treated like gold. Sometimes, you swore he loved that hunk of metal more than anything, but youâd soon learn that his world revolved around you.
Your eyes followed his back, tracing the way his muscles moved with each twist of the wrench. Jamie was a tease, but damn if he wasnât easy on the eyes. Your gaze drifted to the tattoos scattered across his tanned skin, lingering on the intricate, slightly faded markings near his jugularâyour name, carved right there. The sight of it made you hot all over, and you found yourself popping open a few buttons.
You had told that stubborn fool not to get it, warning him that tattoos were permanent and took hours of pain to remove.
âWhyâre you sayinâ something like that?â heâd chuckled back then. âItâll be a cold day in hell before I get this baby removed, sugarplum.â
The memory made you want to laugh. Jamie was as stubborn as a bullâand as big as one too. Too bad all that stubbornness would be the death of him. Not literally, of course.
âYou wanna help me with the cattle? Think they need some lovinâ, too.â
You tilted your head, a spark of hope flaring up. Maybe he was serious about wanting your help, about spending time togetherâmaybe he was letting you be part of this place, tending to your shared home. But then he shrugged.
âOr I could get Mary Anne to come by. Sheâs always good with âemâknows her way around horses like she was born with âem.â
Mary Anne. Just the mention of her name made your blood boil. Youâd seen herâall soft curls and sweet smiles, the kind of girl who fit right in here. Unlike you.
Your lips thinned, the jealousy rising like a rattlesnake. âOh, is that so?â you asked, trying to keep your voice even despite the bitterness creeping in. âMary Anne this, Mary Anne thatâwhy donât you just go on and ask her, then, since sheâs not a âcity girlâ?â
Jamieâs eyes narrowed. âHey now, whatâs got you so riled up, sugar?â
âWhatâs got me riled up?â you snapped, rising to your feet. âYou know damn well, Jamie. You think I donât notice how you bring her up every time itâs my turn to help?â
You took a deep breath. âI know Iâm not as capable as the others, but this is my home too. Iâve been here for over a year, and you still donât ask me to help.â
He rolled his eyes, sighing as he straightened up, towering over you. âAw, hell, [Name]. You actinâ like this âcause youâre on the rag or somethinâ? Ainât no need to get all hot ân bothered over nothinâ.â
The words hit you like a slap, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, disbelief turning into a wave of fury. âYou think thatâs what this is about?â you hissed, your voice sharp as a knife. âYou think that just because Iâm upset, itâs gotta be because of that?â
Jamie shrugged, unfazed, and that was the last straw. You spun on your heel, the dusty ground kicking up beneath your boots as you stormed off. âGo on and call her, then!â you shouted over your shoulder. âIâm sure sheâs just itching to help you!â
You didnât wait for his response. You marched across the sunbaked field, fists clenched tight. You needed to get awayâsomewhere he wasnât. The barn blurred into blobs of red as tears stung at the corners of your eyes. But you werenât about to let him see you cry. Not now, not ever.
This is not where you wanted to end up. An old, run-of-the-mill saloon on a Friday night, surrounded by drunkards and divorcees, the air thick with the stench of stale tobacco. Voices murmur, glasses clink, and the laughter around you is harsh and grating. To hell with it all. To hell with them.
The whiskey settles in your veins, warm and familiar as you lean against the sticky bar. Neon lights flicker, casting a red glow across your half-empty glass, and you blink to clear your vision. You know youâve had too much, but the nightâs long, and the noise makes it easy to drown out everything.
"Fuck," you mutter, rubbing your temples.
Youâve never been much of a drinker. After moving to the countryside to be with Jamie, life on the ranch demanded your focus. Jamie hated liquor, practically despised it.
Dammit, [Name], forget about him. You shake the thought away.
âNow, darlinâ, looks like your glass is âbout empty,â a smooth, slow drawl cuts through your thoughts. The man tilts the brim of his hat back just enough for you to catch a glint in his eyesâcold, calculating, like a snake. âWhy donât you let me get you another?â
Oh, right. You werenât exactly alone.
âSound good?â he asks again, his voice dripping with intentions youâre too drunk to untangle, coaxing you with the rough pad of his thumb tracing over your knuckles.
You hum. âThank you.â
For a moment, you try to recall his nameâMichael? Richard? Ashton? Danny? None of them sound right. Nothing about him feels familiar. Just another face in the blur. You decide heâs irrelevant.
"You donât want it to get cold now, do ya?"
A voice in your head tells you to stop, to head home before you cross a line. Something about him makes your stomach churn, but you blame it on the alcohol. It doesnât take much persuasion before you reach for the glass.
The liquor is bitter but good. But once it slips down your throat, the room spins. You blink hard, trying to steady yourself.
The barstool creaks as you sway, gripping the counter for balance. The strangerâs grin stretches wider, eyes watching you like a hawk. You know you shouldnât have taken that drink, but itâs too late. The world starts tilting.
You turn, ready to brush off the man beside you, when you hear the heavy boots. They echo on the old floorboards, slow and deliberate, each step sending a chill down your spine. Then, a hand rests on your shoulder, the grip firm, possessive.
âTakinâ drinks from strangers now, sugar?â His voice is low, a whisper against your ear. âWhyâd you go and do that for? You know better.â
Jamie.
His breath is warm, almost too close, as his fingers dig into your shoulder just enough to keep you anchored. The strangerâs hand pulls back, and you catch the flicker of fear in his eyes.
Jamieâs fingers tighten, not enough to hurt, but enough to warn. âAinât polite to drink without me, darlinâ.â His tone is calm, but thereâs a tension in it, like a leash pulled too tight.
You look up at him, the soft light catching the curve of his grin. The cowboy hat sits low, loose curls brushing the nape of his neck, his button-up shirt hugging the broad stretch of his shoulders. His forearms, tanned and strong, are exposed as his sleeves are rolled up. His eyes, thoughâdark and unreadableâpin you in place. Thereâs a hunger in them, one that makes your skin prickle.
He runs his thumb over your bottom lip, wiping off the smudge of your lipstick. His grin widens, revealing sharp canines that peek between his lips. Itâs friendly enoughâtoo friendly. Like the way foxes smile when theyâre circling prey.
âMm, youâre drunk.â He says it like itâs a fact heâs already known for hours. âHow much you had tonight, sugarplum?â
You stare at your glass, pretending you donât know. You donât want to admit to your carelessness.
Jamie chuckles, a low, knowing sound. âSo, quite a bit, huh?â
His laugh is loud, and it feels like a warning. He leans in, his hand settling on your hip, fingers curling possessively. âAnd flirtinâ with some nobody at the bar. Thatâs new.â His eyes narrow. âSo, you gonna tell me who he is?â
The stranger shifts uneasily, glancing between you and Jamie. His bravado fades, and he mumbles, âLook, I didnât mean no harm. Just thought she could use some company.â
Jamie doesnât even look at him. His eyes are locked on yours, sharp and unyielding. âAinât that sweet?â he says, his voice soft, but his grip on your hip tightens, like heâs claiming a prize. âBut I think sheâs got all the company she needs.â
The man hesitates, looks like heâs weighing his options, then backs off with a muttered apology, disappearing into the crowd.
The world tilts again, and youâre struggling to stay upright. The bar fades around you, the noise drowning in the back of your mind. The room swims, and your vision blurs, the faces blending into nothing but shadows.
Jamieâs presence feels suffocating. His eyes linger on you, dark and intent, like heâs waiting for something. Like heâs testing you. And you know, deep down, that he doesnât just hate you drinkingâhe hates you here, surrounded by people who arenât him.
âLetâs get you home, darlinâ.â His tone is almost gentle, but thereâs an edge beneath it, something possessive and unyielding.
Before you can protestâbefore the room spins againâheâs there, pulling you into him, lifting you off your feet like you weigh nothing. His arms wrap around your waist, and the world blurs as youâre hoisted over his shoulder, carried out the bar like a prize heâs claimed.
The night air bites at your cheeks as he strides through the darkness, the cold wind cutting through the haze in your mind. You can feel his heartbeat, steady and sure beneath you, and his fingers grip your thigh, possessive and unyielding. Heâs not letting you go.
Everything in you says to fight back, to push away, but he smells like homeâlike honey and oak. The world narrows down to him, the steady beat of his heart, the warmth of his touch.
âMan, youâre gettinâ heavy. Eating too much pumpkin pie, huh, sugarplum?â
âFuck you,â you manage, but itâs weak, and the smile he gives you is sharp and satisfied.
You close your eyes, the world tilting again, and for a moment, you let yourself sink into it. Maybe this isnât so bad.
Maybe this is just how itâs meant to be.
â â đ
â . Ýâ âš . ÝË . Ý
ŠCozyMoko, all rights reserved. Don't repost my work on other platforms.
#âđ#âjamiemccoyđđ#x reader#yandere x darling#yandere imagines#yandere x reader#yandere#yandere scenarios#yandere x y/n#yandere male#male yandere#yandere cowboy#cowboy#yandere male x reader#yandere oc x reader#yandere ocs#yandere boy#yandere bf#yandere blog#yancore#yandere content#yandere core#yandere concept#oc x reader#yandere oc#oc
520 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Dirty Laundry (18+)
Yandere! Dick Grayson x (Fem) Reader
> romantic, 18+ > Request: I think Dick would be a major creep and your rules didn't say anything about no nsft, so can I ask for a fic with this scenario: Dick stealing reader's underwear and using the dirty ones to get off while cumming into the clean ones. And putting the "clean" ones back into her dresser hoping she doesn't notice the stains and wears them? Thanks! > a/n: âŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚ Ohhhh, so youâre crazy. Meaning, youâre just like me . thanks for the dick request i want to write him better/more ;u; had fun writing this! > tw: someone cumming in your panties without your consent or knowledge, so sexual assault. As well as yandere-typical thoughts and behaviors. > Word count: 1847 (Ugh this was supposed to be like 3 paragraphs max but iâm me.)
Dickâs your best friend.Â
⌠You guess.
He was new to BlĂźdhaven, and you two just seemed to keep bumping into each other in the rare times you left your apartment. Might as well get to know the guy. You didnât have much choice in the matter, once he attached to you. And that was okay, because you liked him back and, frankly, were in quite desperate need for friends. The man currently lounges on your bed, sifting through a magazine while youâre mixing audio for this indie rock cover band thatâs commissioned you. Thatâs your side hustle and passion, when youâre not being a work-from-home researcher for S.T.A.R. Labs.Â
Youâre an hour into your work and Dick Grayson is lounging on his spot on your bed, because he has claimed a spot at this point. All is well with the world. Then, your stomach lets out a groan, and so do you.
A pair of eyes, all ocean blue and twinkling, slide over to you without a secondâs hesitation. You meet them, unblinking and unperturbed. Does he know heâs kind of a freak? Being all light-eyed and adoring?
You stand up without fanfare, removing your headphones from your ears and letting them sit around the column of your neck.
âIâm going to get food from the place next door.â
You yawn and walk away from your desk. That usually was much harder for you, but Graysonâs presence in your life had made it more of a priority for you to care for yourself. âDonât touch anything,â you say, plainly and without venom. Without another word, youâre gone, and Dick launches up from his seat once he hears the front door to your flat close.
He told himself he was going to do this today. He told himself, and he is a man of his word.
He opens the bottom drawer of your dresser, where he knows you keep your clean pairs of underwear. Then he trespasses into your closet, where he knows you keep your laundry basket.
Dick knows where a lot of things are in your apartment, and he has made it his job to know every inch of your bedroom specifically. When you leave the room, like times like this, he enjoys going around and familiarizing himself with everything. And heâs planted cameras, of course. He does leave your en-suite restroom alone, an act he pats himself on the back for. You deserved your privacy, after all. To his disappointment, you do tend to masturbate exclusively in the shower, and he must tide himself over with the audio his cameras pick up, rather than visuals.
After a momentâs hesitation, Dick buries his hands into your laundry basket. These were the things⌠you wore. His eyes twinkle as he smiles. Still, he had no time to waste. While often busy, the Chinese place you were at was also known for its fast service. Dick grabs the first pair of panties he sees: blue lace-trim, white in color, with blue gingham. Youâre so cute.Â
He sits in your closet, back to your hamper, slides off the jeans that look really good on him which he hopes youâve noticed. All of these actions are done a little clumsier than normal because his pulse roars in his ears.
He lets his head fall backward, and he begins pumping his cock with your panties in that same hand. He thinks of your face, your body, your hands. He really likes your hands, so adept and amble, always flying across a keyboard or strumming a guitar. He thinks about the honest things you say, truthful but usually with tact. He thinks about your eyes crinkling when heâs being a show-off, and your pretty lips that youâre usually wetting with your tongue rather than finally just getting lip balm.Â
At this point, Dick is a wreck, eyes glazed over and only half-open. His eyelashes flutter as he struggles to keep them open. He goes slack-jawed, pink lips only a little swollen from his biting down on them. Heâs about to finish, he knows he is. Itâs building in him like the birth of a tidal wave. Pre-cum and his sweat have soiled your gingham pair, and he looks at the very plain pair of navy blue boyshorts in his free hand, clenched into a fist. He finds himself blushing. Your underwear is so⌠you, and itâs hilarious that holding them in his hand is what is flustering him so much. Considering what heâs doing.
Dick whimpers, a sound thatâs both embarrassing and utterly liberating. Pleasure pulses in between his legs, his back shoots into an arch, his balls hike up to the base of his cock. He cums with a raspy cry, right onto the crotch of your boyshorts. He had initially planned to just finish anywhere on the fabric, but at the last second decided to cum where your cunt would touch. Heâs kind of romantic like that. (Heâs also kind of a pervert, and he knows that.)
He pants in the afterglow of his orgasm, cheeks painted over with rosy pink. He tosses your white pair back into its home, the laundry basket.
His calloused fingers reach up for the corner of his mouth, which had been agape this whole while.Â
⌠Was he drooling?Â
Dick robotically proceeds to rub his semen into your underwear until it's just a dark stain. He pulls his dark jeans from the pool of black denim they formed at his ankles, he runs his fingers through his hair at a job well done. He returns your boyshorts to your dresser, neatly folding them like all the rest. And finally, he wipes his mouth. He returns to your bed, and itâs like nothing has happened since you left.
Dick Grayson â Gotham pretty boy, badass superhero â should probably cringe; in any other context, isnât that so lameâŚ? But considering it was you, honestly, what could he have expectedâŚ
You come back into your bedroom, a bag of takeout swinging from your hands. His eyes donât leave you for an instant.
⌠You simply have that effect on him.Â
You stomp through his room until youâre right in front of him, where he pretends to be scrolling on his phone. Your arms are akimbo as you stare down at him, blocking your roomâs overhead light with your skull and casting your shadow over him. He looks up and smiles cheekily.
âAlright, Dickard.â Dickâs lips quirk. âGet out. Iâm going to shower and change.â Sniffing yourself on the way back, you decided it was high time you did.Â
Dickâs brain goes a mile a minute. Shower. Change. Underwear? His heart skitters but he doesnât show it.Â
âAw, donât let me stop you. Feel free,â he teasingly sings.
Your eye twitches and you take it upon yourself to physically move him. Not that you could if he chose to actually resist. You know that he must be strong, stronger than âdoing acrobatics as a hobbyâ must make someone. Youâve caught a peek at his abdomen and biceps now and then. Guy is ripped.Â
âGo eat,â you order, throwing the takeout into his hand. âI got enough for the both of us.â Why, Dick could twirl his hair and kick his feet right now â despite a prickly exterior, you really were a sweetheart, werenât you? He refuses to have you pay for him though. He will definitely be returning the favor thricefold.
You successfully shoo the six feet tall model out of your room.Â
Once heâs out, you take your shower, standing for five minutes in the spray until it grows warm. You think with amusement at the idea of movies and TV making women showering such a sexy, erotic scene. Bitch, you are in here scrubbing pots and pans.Â
After the jobâs done, your feet land on your worn shower mat from college, and pad towards your bedroom once more. You catch a towel on your way there, belatedly remembering that Dick Grayson may still be loitering in your bedroom, and you werenât too keen on the idea of him seeing your private bits. Warily shifting eyes from behind the door, you see no oneâs around.
Knock knock.Â
âAre you done?â
Dickâs voice from the hallway makes you panic, fearful that he may burst in before youâre ready and presentable.Â
âDonât you know itâs rude to interrupt a woman while sheâs getting ready in her boudoir!â you yell, hoping some rich personâs instinct suddenly clicks in him. You thought rich men were supposed to be gentlemanly. Really, ever since meeting Dick, who is son to the richest man in the state, youâve learned rich people all must be whiny, clingy, braggers, show-offs, and sometimes, just plain brats. In your hurry, you swipe a panty from your drawer and slip it on past your thighs. Body still damp from the shower, you donât notice anything.Â
The rest of your clothes follow, and you choose to sit back down in your desk chair. You turn back to your double monitor set up, ready to become a screen zombie once more when you remember someoneâs waiting for you.
Without turning around, you holler, âCome in.âÂ
Without a momentâs pause, Dick reenters, takeout plated for the both of you in each hand. He places one smoothly in front of you with butler-like precision.Â
âYour meal, madam,â Dick says in a Parisian accent, and you do smile in amusement. His eyes dilate, but you donât notice.
âThank you, my fine sir,â you return, a little embarrassed, accent weak, but willing to keep up the bit.
Dick knows not to disturb you too much while you work, so he wanders away as you slip your headphones over your ears once more. But before returning to His Spot on the bed, he quietly treads to your dresser. He sneaks a glance to make sure youâre still occupied. And you are, that blue wash of light painting your skin.Â
He pulls out the drawer, andâ hhhhh.
He heaves with breath involuntarily, although itâs nearly imperceptible. You do make him slip more than he likes, but heâs experienced. He glances once more to make sure you didnât hear that, and of course you didnât. Youâre still fiddling in Ableton Live.
He shuts the drawer and stalks to His Spot on the bed, and anyone who knows Dick Grayson would see that he is tense. He is stiff.
And how could he not be? Youâre wearing the underwear he had cum on. Did you notice? Is this your way of coming onto him? No, youâre too forward to play games⌠Something he finds both refreshing and a shame, because he loves games. You simply mustn't have noticed. Regardless, the knowledge fills him with such ecstasy and arousal⌠and longing.Â
He eyes you discreetly as his skin reddens. He tries to act natural by eating steaming orange chicken, plucking it from his plate with a chopstick. One day, heâll have you, in body and soul.Â
Until then, he can entertain himself with this game, however one-sided.
#yandere batfam#yandere dick grayson#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson#yandere dick grayson x reader#really enjoyed writing a more mellow reader!#mine
1K notes
¡
View notes