#but like. HE doesn't know if its to help her or to keep the nurse close so he can eventually kill her | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luveline · 8 months ago

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Hotch request! Please sir, can I have a Hotch request? I'm trying to follow what you said about comfort but also Hotch being angry. So I get low blood sugars cause of my diabetes and I'd love if you wrote something about them being on a case and BAU!Reader is really busy trying to get stuff done, so she has a bad low blood sugar and sits down but one of the local officers thinks she's slacking off so she tries to keep going and Hotch comes in and defends her, making sure she has everything she needs and doesn't faint. Love you <3

ty for requesting!! hope this is okay <3 fem, 1.3k

“I understand.” You frown, phone pressed to your ear hard. “I totally understand, but it’s really important that I get to talk to her.”

“She’s on heavy medication,” the nurse replies, unimpressed by your asking, “she wouldn’t be much use anyhow.”

“I understand, but–”

“Listen, I’m sorry, but we have a lot to do here. I’m sorry we can’t help. Bye.”

You groan in frustration, bringing your phone from your ear to see the Call Disconnected notification flash across your screen. How are you and the team ever supposed to get answers if nobody wants to help? Your head rushes. You kid yourself into believing it’s annoyance like a hot flash, you’ve been sweaty for ages, but then reality cuts through. What usually makes you sweaty and dizzy?

“Where’s my test kit?” you murmur to yourself.

The door opens while you’re looking through your bag.

“Agent,” Officer Debs greets, a stout, sturdy woman with sharp eyes, “any news from Georgetown Psychiatric?”

You rummage frustratedly through your things. You should know better than to misplace your test kit. Doesn’t matter. You’ll just have to eat something quickly before you get any worse. “Uh, no, nothing they could help me with.”

“Did you call them?”

Your eyelids are getting heavier. You sit down on impulse, worried you’re gonna fall if you stay standing. “Yeah, I called them.” You’ve had diabetes for long enough to know what to do, but it’s always harder than it felt the last time when your blood sugar drops. It can be so sudden.

Realising you might need help, you clear your throat, about to ask Officer Debs if she can get the glucose tablets from your bag. You should’ve grabbed them —your thoughts are starting to thicken like someone’s poured cornflour into your skull.

“Is now the best time for a break?” Officer Debs asks.

You focus very hard on bringing your attention into the present. “No, sorry,” you say, standing up. You open your phone and direct to the contacts page, clicking your favourite contact at the very top.

Don’t know m where test kit is, you text clumsily. Hotch should still be in the precinct. Do u have it ?

“I hope you’re texting someone about the case,” Officer Debs says sternly.

You shove your phone into your pocket. “Um,” you say, getting confused now, and not wanting to be shouted at. You grab for the page of phone numbers you’d been making your way through, can’t get your hands to work. “I wasn’t. But I’m getting to it.”

“We really don’t have time to waste.”

“I know, but my blood sugar–”

She talks over you. “What’s the point in all our officers working day and night when you FBI agents can’t be bothered to put in the same effort?” Her voice rises. “It’s ridiculous!”

“It’s not ridiculous, we’re trying our best just like you are.”

“Clearly not!”

“My blood sugar,” you say, more insistently. “Stop shouting at me.”

The door opens quickly, creaking hard on its hinge. Hotch doesn’t slam it open, he never slams anything, but he doesn’t hesitate either. “I have it, you left it in the car after you tested this morning,” he says, your kit in his hand. He gives Officer Debs a surprised up and down. “Who’s shouting?” he asks, unimpressed.

You wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. “Hotch, I need a tablet.”

If he’s shocked at your lethargy, he doesn’t say. He ignores the officer from that point on. “Yes, I think so, too.”

Hotch is more efficient than you were, grabbing your tube of glucose tablets and shaking one out into his hand. “Can you take it yourself?”

“You want to chew it for me?” you ask.

He tips it into your palm. “Very funny.”

He opens the test kit on the desk and starts to extract the pieces. It’s quite complicated, especially for people unfamiliar with it, but you’re pretty sure Hotch learned how to use it the day he knew you had diabetes. He wipes his hands with an alcohol wipe and presses a test strip into the meter, careful not to touch the end, before wiping your finger with a new wipe, and readying the lancing stick.

“Gonna stick you, okay?” he asks quietly.

“Mm,” you hum, the glucose tablet like chalk between your teeth.

He sticks you. Some days it feels more painful than other days, but today it’s like a pinprick in a haze. He squeezes your finger, wipes the first drop of blood with a cotton ball, and dips the test strip into the second bead of blood, careful not to jab your cut.

In the five seconds it takes for you to get a result on the meter, he kneels down, pressing another cotton ball to your finger to stem the flow of blood. “Good,” he murmurs to you. The meter flashes on the table. “Not so good. Fifty nine, huh? How’d that happen?”

You shake your head slowly from one side to another. “I’ve no idea.”

“Okay. Well, that tablet’s not gonna do it, honey. Do you have any gels?”

“No,” you say apologetically.

“That’s fine. I’ll get you a drink.”

Officer Debs clears her throat. You may be foggy, but her awkwardness is palpable. “I’ll get it.”

“It has to be full sugar. Coke, if you can,” Hotch says. She nods in understanding and leaves in record time. Hotch turns back to you, his severity melting away. “She was shouting at you?”

“Tried to tell her about my blood sugar. She told me we’re not here to waste time.” You close your mouth, licking the glucose off of your teeth.

“How did you get so low?” he asks.

“Must have done something wrong this morning. Am I okay?”

“We’ll see. I think you’ll be alright.”

“Don’t usually get so dizzy.”

“When was the last time you were below seventy?”

“Don’t know,” you mumble.

Hotch peels the cotton ball from your finger and packs your things away cleanly. “Let’s see how you feel in ten minutes. After your coke. Now… what did the Officer say to you?”

He’s getting his facts straight. Again, you wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. You relay your conversation, Officer Debs hadn’t even been that bad, just uppity, stuck on her own assumptions rather than willing to listen when you’d needed a hand. Her lack of empathy could’ve really affected you. Low blood sugar is no joke.

You tell him, savouring in the warmth of his hand on your leg, how uncaring he is to be kneeling in front of you on the precinct floor. He frowns at you long and hard.

By the time Officer Debs returns, he’s on his feet again. “A word?” he asks her.

You don’t hear all of what he’s saying through the door as you sip your coke. He doesn’t shout, but he defends you with a heavy gravity. Officer Debs speaks up and he cuts her down, something about understanding, and then a more clear telling off, “I don’t want to hear about Agent L/N’s performance from you again. She’s my agent, and if she needs a break, she’ll take one. It’s none of your concern.”

“I understand.”

You feel much peppier when he comes back in, though he appears less so. “You’re nasty,” you say, smiling, happy to be defended, and happier to know you’re not gonna pass out.

He crosses the room. Still frowning, he takes your face into his hands, and he leans down inch by inch, until he’s pressing a soft, soft kiss to your lips. You barely have time to close your eyes before he’s pulling away, thumb pressed into your soft cheek. “Nobody gets to shout at you. Especially over your blood sugar.”

“It’s usually you telling me off for letting it get low,” you mumble.

He stands up straight, leaving you wanting for another kiss you won’t get, hands stolen back from your cheeks. “You’re ageing me prematurely. Drink some more coke, please, sweetheart.”

“What do I get in return?”

He touches your face briefly, as much of a promise as you’re going to get.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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thenightwolf51 · 1 year ago

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"Danny was born a Wayne" AU except he's Bruce's grand uncle. The result of a one time drunken affair, shortly before Kenneth Wayne's death, to a young unmarried woman who gave the baby up for adoption.

(Whether the Fenton's, and therefore Amity, were just ahead of their times or the DC timeline is shifted a bit so that DP happens in its cannon era is up to you. Dealers choice, though now that i know about her i just love badass widowed prohibition leader Laura Elizabeth Wayne)

Danny grows up knowing hes adopted and loved by the Fentons but something (dealer's choice) happens and he loses his family and friends (maybe the whole town goes too?). In an attempt to avoid a Dan situation he flees into the Infinite Realm and doesn't stop.

He just wanders, time passes in its weird Realms way, not that Danny truly notices. A protector spirit thats lossed everything it protected. Its a wonder he doesn't fade and he actually might've if it wasn't for his human side.

But its a tug at his core that brings him from his near catatonic wandering. Gone before he can even understand it but enough to shake him back to himself. Enough to know that hes nowhere near ready to go anywhere familiar so he continues on, his wandering no less pointless but at least he's aware again.

What feels like a relatively short time later he gets another tug, and this time he manages to follow it.

He follows it invisibly through a natural portal that drops him somewhere in New Jersey and all the way to a fancy hospital room in the gloomiest city he's ever seen.

In there he sees his half brother Patrick Wayne, though he wont figure out their connection for a few more years, holding little Agatha. She's adorable in her little dress and pigtails and her sweet face causes that familiar tug he recognizes from what must have been six years ago given the girls age.

Then a nurse comes in and hands a little bundle to what must be the mother (whos name i cant find) and Danny takes one look at the little core tugger who brought him here and just melts. Even without knowing yet that this is his last remaining family, his instincts latch on and he vows to protect and care for the Waynes.

And he does.

He finds his forgetful brother's documents and keeps Aggy company when everyone else is busy and soothes baby Thomas so his poor sister-in-law can get some more sleep. He ices fevers and bruised knees and helps on later games of hide and seek.

He very rarely becomes visible and only to the children. His grief over the Fenton's convinces him its better to protect his new family from the shadows.

Danny explores every inch of the manor, including secret passages and an underground cave system. He claims a forgotten room in the back of the attic as his own, which over the years fill up with knickknacks, heirlooms, and pictures of the family. Even a gift or two from Agatha, who hadn't stopped believing in their shadowy guardian like her brother did when Danny felt they were too old to see him without drawing suspicion.

The manor becomes his haunt and he always knows where each family member is within it. And when any guests have some no good intentions.

And when baby Bruce is born tugging at his core and with the bluest little eyes, he welcomes the fussy little thing. And makes sure dear Martha never knows just how fussy baby Bruce really is, otherwise she might've never had a full nights sleep.

Danny blames himself for not being there when Thomas and Martha die, and promises to never leave Bruces side, practically becoming the boy's living shadow. Watching over him as he gets older, secretly aiding him in his training. Danny feels a bit of pride when Bruce takes some inspiration from the old stories Thomas told him of the shadowy Wayne family protector when creating his Batman identity, glad his nephew still remembers him even if he hasn't shown himself since the now young man was six.

Danny continues to protect and care for the family in a variety of ways over the years even as the family grows.

Lightening Alfred's workload, softening Dick's falls, calming Jason's temper both pre and post pit, hiding Tim's coffee when the boy hasn't slept in far too long, providing plenty of shadows and hiding nooks for Cass, helping Damian hide the litter of kittens he found.

And no one seems to know he's there, except maybe Cass and he's pretty sure Alfred has been know since he first started working for the family. No one knows, that is, until Duke Thomas moves in and lookes right at him watching invisibly from the sidelines.

(@omnicrafts @dcxdpdabbles @hdgnj @ailithnight @nelkcats @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 i dont know, the main point of all this is that Danny's been protecting the Wayne family for decades and no one, except maybe Alfred, knew until Duke moved in)

#dpxdc #danny is a Wayne #danny is the wayne family protector spirit #duke can see ghosts #an alternative of this could be the same background but Danny decides to come in as the preCrisis “Uncle Philip” that initially raised Bruc #if so Agatha would definitely vouch for Danny #there's not much on Agatha Wayne but she seems fun

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ginnsbaker · 9 months ago

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fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (6/?)

Part summary: "You like Leigh, and that should be that. It shouldn't stop your world from turning, but it does."

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 5.520 | Warnings/Tags Unrequited feelings and pining | Author's Note: Thank you so much for the warm reception to this story :) I can't promise that this is the last bump in the road.

“Thanks for meeting me.”

You came in early, already nursing a Mai Tai, having decided that facing this conversation sober wasn’t an option. The alcohol doesn’t make the situation any less twisted, but it dulls the edge of frustration just enough to keep you seated.

“Let’s get right to it,” you start, not bothering with pleasantries as you take another swig. “Danny.”

He winces slightly at you calling him by his real name, a telling sign of guilt or maybe just discomfort. It’s hard to tell. “Yeah, about that—”

You're not here for the runaround. Hence, the Mai Tai and the vodka that came before it.

“Look, Nick, or Danny, or whoever you are today. I just need some answers—”

“And I’ll give them to you if you promise me one thing.”

You raise an eyebrow, utterly flabbergasted by his nerve. “I'm not here to make any deals,” you state flatly. “I'm here for answers that I believe Matt owes me. And since he’s dead,” you say, not shying away from stating the grim reality in his face, “and you're in on Matt's little game, you owe me too.”

Danny looks like he doesn't want to challenge you on that; in fact, he looks downright worried.

“Please,” he implores. “This is important to me.”

Your eyes narrow in suspicion. Why is he suddenly acting like a dog with its tail tucked between his quivering legs?

“Okay, what is it?” you ask, signaling the bartender for another drink. Danny orders a drink for himself—a shot of whiskey. That's when you realize things are likely to get even crazier for you before they start to improve.

“It’s Leigh,” Danny says, and something in the way he mentions her name lets you know he's sincere about how important this is to him. “She doesn't know the half of it. She doesn't know I’m Nick, or that I helped Matt to... to be with you.”

You blink several times, rapidly, trying to clear the little haze in your head because you can’t believe what you’re hearing. He's asking you to keep a secret.

After he lied to you.

“And what, if I tell her you pretended to be someone else and helped her husband cheat on her, then what? She's—” you stop mid-sentence, the pieces suddenly clicking together in your mind. Danny doesn't want you to rat him out for being Nick, about his direct involvement in Matt's cheating, because he's… with Leigh?

They’re together?

As if he's tuned into your thoughts, Danny confirms your hunch. “I love Leigh. I think I always have. And if you tell her this, it's going to be the end of us.”

The first thing you feel is this urge to be all possessive about Leigh, coalesced with a sour taste in your mouth knowing someone else got there first. Except, you know Leigh would never look at you like that. So, it embitters you even more admitting you shouldn't be feeling this way at all.

You take a long sip of your newly arrived drink, buying time to think. Telling Leigh is supposedly the right thing to do, but it could also destroy whatever happiness she's found with Danny.

But is she though? Is she happy with Danny?

“So let me get this straight,” you say, the alcohol lending you a blunt courage. “You orchestrated this whole scenario—Matt meeting someone else—just so you could break him and Leigh up? You love her so much you'd do that to your friend?”

Danny looks even more defeated—as he should when he reveals, “Matt's not just some friend. He's my brother.”

You're midway through a sip of water when the words hit you, and you nearly choke on it, barely stopping yourself from spitting the water out.

“You’re despicable! And to think that—”

“But I didn’t orchestrate anything, okay? Do you think I’m some kind of god, picking you randomly to throw at Matt? You guys really met and fell for each other by chance. I had nothing to do with both of your feelings.”

You scoff, incredulous. There's no way you're going to believe anything he says next. You just can't.

“So, your big plan was what? Just to hang back and hope to catch Leigh on the rebound?” you say defiantly.

The look he gives you, and the fact that he’s not outright denying it—

“Look,” he drones, raising a hand as if to temper your barrage of questions. “There was no plan, all right? Matt met you, and he just couldn't shake you off his mind. It was all him. And yeah, it was merely chance he saw you again, going into your clinic that afternoon. He told me about it, and I went with him to talk to you because he asked me to. I was just as thrown when he introduced me as ‘Nick’.”

You're skeptical, to say the least. “Why would Matt do that? Why go through all that trouble?”

Danny shrugs. “I’m not sure, but I went along with it. Probably because deep down, Matt knew what he was doing wasn’t right. Maybe he felt guilty, or maybe he wanted to be someone else in that moment, someone who wasn't Matt Greer with a brother named Danny, who was at his wedding to Leigh Shaw. I don’t know. I mean, I know my brother, but that doesn’t mean I understand all his reasons.”

A sick part of you can't help but feel less sorry about Matt's demise. It's a disgusting thought, harboring anything less than sympathy for someone who's gone, yet you can’t feel anything but enmity for being duped. Not just by one, but two people who played you for a fool.

“God, what a mess,” you mutter, shaking your head. No amount of alcohol could’ve prepared you for this.

And then another thought occurs to you.

“You were the one who told Leigh about me and Matt, weren't you?”

Danny doesn't respond immediately, his gaze dropping to his lap.

“And you did it... to get Leigh for yourself. To make her hate Matt, hoping she'd turn to you,” you piece it together, one after another.

“No,” he counters quickly. You smirk into your cocktail, as if you've just heard the punchline of a joke.

Danny looks up, his dark eyes earnest, almost pleading for you to understand. “I didn't tell Leigh about you and Matt because I wanted to ‘have’ her. That... that wasn't it. That thought came much later, and honestly, only after Leigh started... showing interest in me. I never pursued her, not after Matt died. I kept my distance, respected her grief. I loved her quietly, without ever letting on.”

You look away, knowing a thing or two about loving someone in the shadows.

“I told Leigh because if she was going to mourn Matt, she deserved to know the full truth about who she was mourning. Matt wasn't just the loving husband she thought he was, and she had the right to know that,” he finishes.

You shake your head, dismissing his attempt to appear noble by betraying his own brother and tarnishing Leigh's memory of him. It just doesn't sit right to you, using someone's absence to get ahead. Matt's not here to tell his side, to explain things. His only defense being crumbs of himself he left behind like those texts Leigh stumbled upon on Danny's phone.

With a tad of vendetta in your words, you turn Danny’s reasoning against him.

“Then Leigh deserves to know about you too. About how you were a willing participant in Matt’s deception and helped him pull one over on her,” you tell him, not missing the shock that flickers across his face. “She deserves the truth if she’s going to be with you. Not just your cleaned-up version where you come out looking like the good guy.”

Danny's face goes a shade paler, and for a second, he looks like he's about to argue, but then nothing. He just sits there, kind of deflated, like he's finally realizing the predicament he's in isn't just going to disappear.

You've had enough of his excuses and signal the bartender for the bill. As you pull out your wallet, Danny finds a bit of his backbone again.

“It'll be your word against mine,” he laments, twirling the ice in his glass leisurely. “Me and Leigh, we've known each other for years. Who do you think she'll believe? Because from what I understand, Leigh caught you in a lie too. She doesn't trust you. So good luck trying to ruin our happiness just because you can.”

His challenge makes you bristle, but you square your shoulders, meeting his gaze dead-on. “Do you think Leigh loved Matt?” you ask.

Danny looks momentarily unsettled by your question, as if it's the last thing he expected from you. But then, without hesitation, he answers, “Yes.”

“Yeah, she would've stuck by Matt, even knowing everything,” Danny continues. “She'd convince him they could start over. Leigh loved... loves Matt so much,” he corrects himself, a bitter smile on his lips as he admits, “I envied my brother for that.”

The bartender slides the bill over, and you hand off your credit card without even a second look, thoroughly pleased with how Danny’s response has played right into your hands. Once you’re done paying for your drinks, you turn back to Danny.

“You latched onto the idea of me and Matt right away, not knowing if I’m going to love Matt the way Leigh loved him, or even more. But you didn’t care,” you say evenly. “All you saw was an opportunity to get the woman for yourself. You’re selfish.”

Danny’s quick to defend himself this time. “You wouldn't say that if you were in my shoes,” he shoots back. “I love both of them. I wanted Matt to be happy, and he wasn't anymore, not with Leigh.”

“And you were more than happy to nudge him away from his wife, thinking that'd fix everything?” you counter sharply.

He squirms in his seat, looking like he’s run out of excuses. He can’t find the words that’ll make you see his side of things. It also dawns on you that he’ll never see your point either.

After a tense silence, he asks, “Are you going to tell Leigh?”

You stand up and let out a heavy sigh. “Honestly? I don't even know if Leigh wants anything to do with me anymore.” Just as you’re about to leave, something compels you to throw Danny a lifeline and you swivel on your heel to give him one last thing to think about.

“If this thing you have with Leigh is real, don’t let her find out about the skeletons in your closet from someone else. It's better coming from you.”

Walking away, you can’t shake off the regret of not taking your own advice, more than you’d normally like to admit.

Suzie's been on edge about how you've been acting lately. She's always on the dot with your meals, but you barely give them a glance before packing them up and handing them off to homeless people on the street who need them more. Your days have blurred into a continuous loop at the clinic, skipping breaks, and hovering around even when it's technically Foreman's shift to take the lead.

Today, Suzie's hit her limit watching you mope and brood in your office's corner. Without a word of warning, she marches in with a bottle of red and two glasses. You’re startled, feeling somewhat cornered, as she locks the office door behind her. Ignoring your shock, Suzie starts pouring a generous glass of wine for you, filling it right to the brim.

“Alright, out with it,” she orders, pushing a full glass your way.

Your gaze sweeps the room, looking for a way out. “Suzie, I don’t think it’s—” Yes, you own the place. But owning it doesn't mean you're about to bend your own rules about drinking on the job.

“Let's drink it out, girlie.” She sets her own glass down, already filled, and takes a seat. Last time I saw you like this, your team lost the Superbowl. And let's be real, the only other thing that had you this down before was that Matt guy ghosting you.”

You eye the glass of wine, your mouth feeling very dry all of a sudden. “What about the patients waiting outside?”

“Foreman's on it, as long as we save him some for later. I said we would, but let's be honest, this bottle isn't really enough for two,” Suzie says, giving you a wink.

You let out a sigh, your fingers instinctively inching towards your glass, yet you stop short of actually grabbing it. You're usually the vault, not the one doing the talking. You absorb everyone else's life stories, nod sympathetically, and maybe offer advice on occasion. The only reason Suzie even caught wind of the whole Matt situation is because he made his interest too obvious—showing up at the clinic multiple times with flowers, chocolates, books, and all those little things he discovered you couldn't resist. It wasn't so much you telling her, as it was Matt's grand gestures speaking volumes, making it impossible for anyone, especially Suzie, not to notice.

Taking a deep breath, you realize maybe it's time to open up to someone, to share the absurdity of your situation with someone who might just understand—someone who, at the very least, also likes women.

“Okay, so here's the thing... I've got this weird crush,” you say, letting that sit for a moment, partly because you're still wrapping your head around it, partly because you still can’t believe it. You can't pinpoint exactly when you started tumbling down a rabbit hole from which there was no climbing back out.

“On Matt's wife.”

Suzie's reaction is as you expected—her eyes go wide, her mouth drops, and the wine glass she's holding almost slips from her grasp. “You what?” she gasps, looking at you like you've grown a second head. “How in the world do you end up falling for your ex's wife?”

You never said anything about falling. But you suppose that's how it looks, given how much you've been out of sorts ever since Leigh called you a liar.

Sitting in your car across from Leigh's house, you feel like some sort of stalker. You tell yourself this is a one-off, not a habit you're planning to develop. Though, if you don't catch her tonight, you'll likely be back here tomorrow, or the day after.

After that wine-fueled heart-to-heart with Suzie, you left the clinic with a buzz and her words echoing inside your head: Just walk up to Leigh and say you were an ass and that you're sorry. And here you are, taking her advice a bit too literally and too soon.

It's getting late, and you've been watching Leigh's front door as if it might sprout legs and run away. You're semi-drunk, definitely not in the best state for making apologies, but Suzie's pep talk has convinced you that you need to do this, and now. “This is a terrible idea,” you mumble to yourself, checking your phone again to see if, by some miracle, Leigh has responded to one of your texts. Still nothing.

Just as you're starting to question your sanity and consider driving home, you finally spot Leigh’s car turning the corner. Your heart starts doing somersaults, threatening to beat its way out of your chest as the car pulls into the driveway. But as the car parks and the door swings open, your hopeful anticipation crashes hard into disappointment. It's not Leigh stepping out onto the curb; it's Jules. So, it's a family car, and today, of all days, you didn't get the driver you were hoping for.

A headache begins to brew as you scold yourself for even showing up here. “What am I even doing?” you mutter under your breath, rubbing your temples as if that could erase the last few hours. Leigh might be at Danny's for all you know, making this stakeout even more pointless.

In those few seconds of self-berating, you're completely oblivious to Jules spotting you from the sidewalk. So, when she taps on your side of the window, you nearly jump out of your skin, hand shaking as you roll it down to face her.

“Hi,” she says simply. She’s smiling, like she knows something you don’t.

“I'm not a stalker,” you say defensively. “I'm just…” An idiot.

You weren’t aware you said the last part aloud until Jules chuckles. “Well, at least you’re an honest idiot. You waiting for Leigh?”

“I was, but... I'll just go,” you stammer, ready to make a retreat and save what little dignity you have left.

“You won't get anywhere far on those flat tires though,” Jules comments offhandedly, nodding towards the back of your car.

“Flat tires?”

You quickly unbuckle your seatbelt to check. Sure enough, when you step out and circle to the back, both of your rear tires are depressingly flat, deflated against the pavement.

“Great,” you groan, raking your fingers through your hair and tugging in frustration. “Just my luck.”

You’re not drunk enough to find the situation funny, nor sober enough to deal with flat tires.

“Maybe you should call a tow or something and wait inside the house until they get here,” Jules suggests.

“My phone’s dead,” you say in response.

“No problem, I can call them for you.”

You're chewing over the thought, when your stomach decides to join the conversation with a loud rumble.

Jules grins and adds, “Plus, I've got pizza.” The thought of waiting it out with the comfort of food suddenly makes the idea of intruding a lot less unappealing.

“Why do you even like my sister?”

You're mid-bite on your first slice when Jules launches that question out of the blue and you nearly choke on your own spit. Crumbs dust your fingers as you set the slice down, buying yourself a moment to think. It's not like you've never asked yourself the same question. It's just that the answer doesn't make any more sense to you either.

“She, uh, has a way of making an impression. Mostly, I appreciate her candor—”

“You find her bitchiness… endearing?”

You’re stunned by the way she frames it, but it also makes you smile, recognizing the blunt honesty in her words—something that apparently runs in the family. You guess Jules could say that. Leigh’s sour attitude offended you one time, and then you heard her laugh and saw her smile, and it’s as if the sun never set for you.

“Her... directness is refreshing. In a world full of people trying to sugarcoat everything, Leigh just says it like it is. And yes, it can come off a bit strong, but there's something genuine about it. Plus, she's incredibly passionate about what she believes in. She has this authenticity that’s rare to find nowadays.”

Formidable. You think of the perfect adjective to describe it a tad too late, but you keep it to yourself, thinking you’ve gushed enough about her sister.

“Is that the alcohol talking or do you like, like Leigh?”

It's one thing to harbor a secret crush, quite another to have it recognized and named by someone else, especially Leigh's family. “I don’t—”

“I thought I caught a whiff of red on your breath out there on the street. Here, drink more water,” Jules says, pouring you a tall glass. “I’d offer you a beer but we stopped having those around here because I’m seven months sober.”

“Oh. Congratulations,” you say.

“Thanks.”

She seems to have moved on from her question, getting busy on her phone a moment later, but you haven't, and it leaves you feeling spotlighted in a way you weren't prepared for. “I, um…” You're scrambling for the right terms, something to deflect but not deny. Because the more you've denied it, the more your feelings have grown.

Determined to see you continue to squirm at the kitchen bar, Jules starts talking about Leigh almost casually, as though she's discussing something as mundane as the weather.

“You know, Leigh had a girlfriend in college, before Matt, of course. So, you don't have to worry about her not being interested in girls,” she says, her eyes not leaving her phone screen.

“She did?”

By this time, you're not even sure if Jules is just pulling your leg, and you're baffled as to why she's sharing details about Leigh that Leigh herself probably wouldn't tell you outright.

“Yeah, she was totally into her, just like she was with Matt. Then, out of nowhere just tossed her aside like that,” Jules snaps her fingers, “she completely cut her off. They had been together for two years, and she didn’t shed a single tear over the breakup. So, maybe that's what you should be worrying about,” Jules says, putting her phone facedown on the table.

The pizza suddenly looks less appetizing as you stew over this. It's one thing to worry about whether Leigh could reciprocate your feelings; it's another to consider that even if she did, there’s the reality that it might not go down the way you hope it would, given the chance.

You've always been told you're too much of a dreamer to be a doctor. That became even more apparent when they saw you couldn't help but cry alongside pet owners every time a pet didn't make it or when you had to make that tough call for mercy's sake. You've been in relationships before; after all, you're twenty-eight years old. But you've always treated them like free trials, never getting too serious, especially during those times when you couldn't stay in the same zip code for more than a few weeks. Then, the moment you decide it's time to plant roots, your concept of romance skyrockets to something out of a fairy tale, something as grand as the universe conspiring to unite two souls, forever. It’s how it happened for your parents, being each other’s first loves. You figured, the same should happen for you.

You like Leigh, and that should be that. It shouldn't stop your world from turning, but it does.

“Liking Leigh is moot,” you say after some time. “It’s a bad idea from the start.”

Jules tilts her head. “Why is that?”

You let out a sigh, fiddling with the bracelet on your right wrist. “It’s just... there’s something between Leigh and Danny, right? And it doesn’t usually end up with the mistress and the wife together. Besides, Leigh hates me right now. Most obvious reason being that I stole Matt from her before he... before he was gone for good.”

Jules hums thoughtfully. “Sounds like you've been doing a lot of thinking.”

“It's all I've been able to do since I met her,” you say.

Jules glances at the slice of pizza on your plate, now cold and forgotten. “You gonna eat that?” she asks, nodding towards the lonely piece.

You shake your head, sliding the plate her way. “Good,” Jules responds with a grin. “I'll save this slice for Leigh, then.”

Your ears perk up at that. “You’re expecting her home?”

“Yeah, any minute now. She texted a bit ago saying she was on her way. Plus, she's not working too far from here today.”

“Oh? Where's she at?”

Jules is just about to answer when the front door swings open, revealing Leigh as she hurries inside, her eyes quickly finding yours. There's no mistaking it—she's seen your car. She throws you a pointed look as she heads upstairs, her message clear without saying a word. Then, she murmurs a quick, “We'll talk about this later,” to Jules, who simply snorts in response and starts tidying up the dining table.

The sound of Leigh slamming the door prompts you to rise from your chair, but it's clear you have no plan. Should you go after Leigh? It's precisely why you came here, but now, the wine's effects have faded. Your feet are getting cold.

“You're wrong, you know,” Jules drones, her back to you as she wets a towel under the sink. “About Leigh and Danny.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugs. “I think she's with Danny as a form of revenge.”

You stare at her back, confused. “For Matt cheating on her?”

“Exactly. Matt was aware of Danny's feelings for Leigh. I knew about it, Leigh knew, and that's partially why she had such a strong dislike for him before she began to... well, you know,” Jules explains, her expression contorting slightly in distaste. “It's kind of absurd when you think about it, especially since Matt's no longer here. But Leigh holds onto her beliefs in the afterlife, so it's like she's putting on a performance for Matt's spirit or something.”

You look up at the ceiling, as if expecting to see through the hardwood floors. “And you're telling me this because...?”

“Because you've given up already,” Jules states matter-of-factly.

You're confused. “So, you don't approve of someone you've known for years, but you're okay with the idea of me, Matt's other woman, being interested in Leigh?”

Jules just shrugs again. “It's weird. Scandalous, even. Something none of us saw coming.”

(In your head, you wonder, ‘Who's ‘us’?')

“But when Leigh was hanging out with you, when you were attending her class, she wasn't with Danny much, I think,” Jules goes on. “And that’s enough for me.”

“You don’t even know me,” you argue weakly. Inside, you're kind of doing cartwheels because Jules doesn't seem to mind that you're into Leigh. Somehow, that feels like a win.

“I know Danny well enough. I've got nothing against him personally, but he somehow manages to bring out the worst in Leigh. My sister was… agreeable when you were around. She actually talked about you, even mentioned she thinks you've got gorgeous brown eyes.”

“She does?”

Jules cracks up, noticing your cheeks go pink. “Oh, absolutely. And I've got to say, seeing those eyes up close—they're kind of striking. Annoyingly so, even.”

Her tease draws a reluctant smile from you, a swarm of butterflies doing somersaults in your stomach. It's comforting to know that there's at least something about you that Leigh notices.

“I should talk to her,” you say with resolve.

“Yeah, you should,” Jules nods, her laughter settling into a warm smile. “I'm not playing Cupid or anything, but I think I like you, Y/N. Leigh could use someone like you around. Most people just back off when her less charming side shows up. When she’s intolerable. I've done it too, sometimes. But I can't really leave her hanging because, you know, she's family and I love her, so…”

Hearing Jules say those things about Leigh transforms her from someone intimidating into someone truly worth sticking around for. And if your feelings eventually lead nowhere and quietly fade over time, then at least you could be the kind of friend to her who doesn't run at the first sign of trouble.

“Jules?” you say, stopping at the foot of the staircase.

“Yeah?”

“I think I like you too.”

Approaching quietly, you've left your shoes by the stairs, the cool floor under your bare feet making you feel all the more vulnerable. Jules had given you directions to Leigh's bedroom—right at the end of the hallway. Downstairs, you hear the murmur of the TV; Jules has turned up the volume, probably more to give you and Leigh some semblance of privacy than for her own viewing pleasure.

When you reach Leigh's door, panic floods back in. You keep swallowing, but it's like the desert in your mouth won't let up. “I got this,” you mutter under your breath, trying to psych yourself up. You lean in, ear against the door, trying to pick up any sound. It's silent until you catch the ping of a laptop, followed by fingers typing away noisily. She might be at her desk, probably by the window, or maybe lying in some awkward, back-breaking position on her bed. Knowing she's awake strips away your last excuse to back down. You lift your hand, pause for a split second, then tap lightly on the door. Your heart's pounding so loud, you're half-convinced Leigh can hear it from the other side.

“Leigh?”

No answer.

“It’s me,” you say a little louder. “Can we talk?”

She doesn’t answer.

You don't want to push her into a corner, to demand her to open up when she's clearly not ready. But walking away without laying your feelings out isn't an option either. With a heavy sigh, you slide down until you're seated on the floor, back against her door. It's a small surrender, but it doesn't feel like defeat. Not yet.

“I know you can hear me,” you say, your voice steadier than you feel. “It's okay if you don't want to talk. Really, it is. But there's just something I need you to know.”

You take a deep breath before the plunge. Here we go.

“Look, you were right,” you start, whispering almost, as if you're sharing a secret with the wood of the door itself. “I did downplay what Matt and I had when you asked me. But, to be completely honest, I didn't even realize I was doing it at the time.” You run your finger along the wood grain of the door, savoring the texture against your skin. Unknown to you, Leigh is on the other side, sitting with her back pressed against the same spot, hugging her knees to her chest.

“By the time you came to me, I hadn't heard from Matt in three months. I was... sober from him, and whatever we had felt like a distant dream. I can’t recall the specifics, just that it was... nice. And maybe intense at the moment, but looking back, it was more about lust and similarities than anything.”

Slowly, you lean your head against the door, closing your eyes as you continue, “I'm not telling you this to make excuses for myself. I don't want to justify the deceit. I just... I need you to understand that any impact he had on me was gone long before you and I met.”

Opening your eyes, you glance down at the space under the door, hoping to see a shadow, a sign that Leigh is right there, listening. She is, but you miss it. The hallway is dark and there’s little to no light coming from Leigh’s bedroom.

You keep talking, now more for yourself than for her. “If there was something real between Matt and me, it wouldn't have vanished so effortlessly. And he... he likely wouldn't have just vanished either, leaving me in the dark without any explanation.”

The door flies open suddenly just as you finish your thought. With no time to react, you're sent tumbling backwards, landing with a thud on the floor. The shock of the fall momentarily stuns you, but it's the sight of Leigh, upturned, that really takes your breath away. Her eyes are hard, her expression unreadable, but it's clear she's been listening to every word.

“You could've mentioned he slept over at your place. Not having sex with him that night didn't mean it was a dismissible detail,” Leigh says, her voice thick. ��Do you know how intimate it is to sleep at someone's house and not have sex? To just be there, for the sake of being there?”

You're on the ground, staring up at her. You know it now. Dressing her wounds, that was intimate. Her hand correcting your posture during yoga, that too was intimate. Sharing burgers in the car, intimate.

Whenever you do anything, or find yourself somewhere, just for the chance to be with someone—that's intimacy right there.

“I—I don’t know why I didn’t tell you,” you say. You silently promise to her that lying about your feelings for her will be the last lie you ever tell her.

“You don’t know?” Leigh sneers. “Then think!”

You push yourself into a sitting position, unsure if you should get inside her bedroom or inch back outside. In this position, you're acutely aware of the power imbalance—her standing, you on the floor. It compels you to admit some of your truth.

“I didn't want to cause you any more pain than I already have,” you say softly. “Which is funny because my very existence is likely a constant reminder of that pain.”

Something shifts in the air. You’re the first to look away and you end up just waiting for Leigh to kick you out for good. But she doesn't do what you brace for. Getting a read on her has always been like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands, and it feels like it always will be.

Slowly, Leigh extends a hand to help you up. You take it, feeling the cool dampness of her skin.

Just as she’s about to shut the door again, she stops short, locks her eyes with you, and says, “I can handle pain just fine.”

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

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guilty-ff · 5 months ago

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𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐏𝐭.5

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 ˚⁎⁺˳ .

Previously: After years of brutal torture by Francis, Y/N finally escaped, fighting her way out of the lab and fleeing into the dense woods. Each step was a struggle, but she knew she couldn't stop. With the guards on her heels, she disappeared into the shadows, determined to reclaim her life.

This story takes place between the second and third movies (warning: not 100% movie/comic accurate)

Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool x (fem!)Reader

Genre: Angst, revenge, Fanfiction, Marvel

Warnings: Movie Spoilers! Explicit content, swearing, torture, mental health, weapons

Word count: 3640

The slums were from now on her home. Y/n had escaped from the clutches of the facility, but the scars of her past- both mental and physical- were still engraved deeply in her body. The nights were the hardest, when the world around her was quiet and the memories screamed the loudest. She lived in a cramped, old apartment, the flickering neon lights outside her window casting shadows on the walls.

It had been weeks since her escape, weeks of hiding and laying low, blending into the filthiness of the city. Here, she was just another face in the crowd, another soul struggling to survive. But she was different. She could feel the darkness within her, the uncontrollable power that surged through her veins. She had to find a way to control it, to suppress it before it consumed her.

Y/n spent her days looking for information, piecing together bits of knowledge about mutants, about powers like hers. She searched through the back alleys and seedy bars, listening to rumors and whispered conversations. Slowly, she began to understand the nature of her abilities, the twisted gift that had been forced upon her. But understanding was not enough. She needed control.

One night, in a ed bar that reeked of sweat and stale beer, Y/n finally found a lead. She had been sitting at the counter, nursing a glass of cheap whiskey, when she overheard a conversation between two men at the next table. They spoke in low tones, their words slurred from alcohol, but Y/n's ears caught every word.

"Essex House... that place was a nightmare," one of the men muttered, his face half-hidden in the shadows. "They did some real messed up shit there."

The other man, a burly figure with a ashen beard, nodded grimly. "I heard they had a way to control mutants. Some kind of device."

Y/n's heart skipped a beat. She leaned closer, pretending to adjust her coat as she listened.

"Yeah, I know a guy who used to work there," the bearded man continued. "Big guy, real quiet. He hangs around here sometimes."

Y/n did not waste any time. She slid over to their table, her movements smooth. "Mind if I join you?" she asked, her voice low and steady.

The men exchanged a glance, then shrugged. "Sure, why not?" the bearded man said, gesturing to the empty seat.

Y/n sat down, fixing them with a piercing gaze. "I couldn't help but overhear. You mentioned Essex House. I'm looking for someone who worked there. A guard, maybe?"

The first man, looked her up and down suspiciously. "Why do you want to know?"

"Let's just say I'm looking for answers," Y/n replied, her tone leaving no room for argument. "If you can help me, I'd appreciate it."

The bearded man scratched his chin, his eyes narrowing. "I don't know his name, but he's usually around here. I'd be careful, though. He doesn't like to be bothered."

"Point him out," Y/n she said, her eyes scanning the bar.

The bearded man nodded toward the far corner, where a large figure sat hunched over the bar, nursing a drink. "That's him."

Y/n followed his gaze and saw the man- a huge, muscled frame with a shaved head and a face that looked like it had seen more than its fair share of violence. He was a mountain of a man, his broad shoulders hunched over as he downed another shot of whiskey. There was a darkness about him, an aura of danger that warned others to keep their distance.

Y/n thanked the men and made her way toward the bar, her eyes never leaving the figure in the corner. She did not approach him directly, instead choosing to observe him from a distance, waiting for the right moment.

The man continued to drink heavily, oblivious to the world around him. It was not long before he started to show signs of drunkenness- his movements sloppy, his head nodding as if fighting off sleep.

Now. This was her chance.

Y/n moved swiftly, her steps silent on the worn wooden floor. She slipped behind the man, her hand reaching into her coat to retrieve a small vial of chloroform and a cloth. In one fluid motion, she pressed the cloth over the man's face, her other arm locking around his throat.

The man struggled, his instincts kicking in despite his drunken state, but Y/n was quick and precise. Within seconds, his body went limp, his heavy frame slumping against the bar.

She wasted no time. With the strength born from desperation, Y/n dragged the unconscious man out of the bar, navigating through the back alleys until she reached her hideout.

The basement of an abandoned building, it was cold and damp, the walls lined with old newspapers and broken furniture. She had set up a small, makeshift interrogation room- just a chair and a bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling.

Y/n tied the man to the chair, securing his wrists and ankles with thick rope. She stood back, her heart pounding as she waited for him to wake up. The adrenaline was still coursing through her veins, her hands shaking slightly as she paced the room.

Finally, the man moved slightly, his dazed eyes blinking against the harsh light. He groaned, tugging at the ropes before realizing he was restrained. Panic flickered across his face as he looked around, his gaze settling on Y/n, who stood before him with a cold, determined expression.

"What the hell—?" he began, his voice stammered from the lingering effects of the chloroform.

"Shut up," Y/n snapped, stepping closer. "I'm the one asking questions. You're going to answer them."

The man's eyes narrowed, anger replacing his initial fear. "You've got no idea who you're messing with."

"Oh, I think I do," Y/n replied, her voice icy. "You used to work at Essex House. You were a guard there."

The man's expression hardened, his jaw clenching. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Y/n's patience was wearing thin. She had spent too long hiding, too long searching for answers, to be stonewalled by this brute. She leaned in, her face inches from his, her voice low and menacing.

"Don't lie to me," she hissed. "I know what they did in that place. The experiments, the torture. I know about the children. If you think I'm bluffing, you're sorely mistaken."

The man's boldness stopped for a moment, but he quickly recovered, sneering at her. "You don't know shit."

Her hand moved faster than he could react, striking him hard across the face. His head snapped to the side, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

"I said, don't lie to me!" Y/n shouted, her voice trembling with fury. "I know what kind of monster you are. I know what you did to those kids. Now tell me about the device that suppresses mutant powers."

The man spat blood onto the floor, glaring up at her aggressively. "Even if I did know, I wouldn't tell you."

Y/n's fist connected with his jaw again, this time with more force. The man groaned, his head lolling forward as he struggled to stay conscious.

"You have no idea what I've been through," Y/n said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The things I've seen, the pain I've endured. If you think for one second that I won't make you suffer, you're dead wrong. Now, talk."

The man's resolve began to crumble under the weight of her words, the fear returning to his eyes. He took a heavy breath, finally giving in.

"There's a wristband," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "It was designed to suppress mutant powers. But that place... it's gone. Some kid blew it up, the whole building came down."

Y/n's heart raced as she absorbed his words. "Where can I find one?"

The man hesitated, his gaze darting around the room as if searching for a way out. Finally, he sighed in defeat.

"Maybe there's still some in the storage rooms beneath the building. But it's dangerous. The whole place is crawling with security, even now."

Y/n stared at him for a long moment, her mind racing. She had what she needed, but the anger still burned within her, the memories of those children haunting her every thought.

"And one more thing," the man added, his voice a broken whisper. "There were others involved in that explosion. A man in a red and black suit... mutants from the X-Men... and some scary guy with a teddy bear."

The mention of the man in the red and black suit made Y/n's blood run cold. Wade. The man responsible for her suffering. But she pushed the thought aside, focusing on the task at hand.

"Thank you," she said coldly, before slamming her fist into his face one last time. The man's head snapped back, and he slumped in the chair, unconscious.

"You deserve much more, you little piece of shit," Y/n muttered, her voice thick with disgust. She untied him and dragged him out to a nearby street, leaving him there to be found. She had no use for him anymore.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈•

The ruins of Essex House stood before Y/n like a tombstone, a monument to the atrocities that had taken place within its walls. The once impressive structure was now a gutted shell, its walls burned and crumbling, overtaken by creeping vines and nature's slow reclamation. The air was thick with the stench of decay and rot, a fitting aura for a place that had been a living nightmare for so many.

Y/n moved silently through the rubble, her senses heightened, every sound increased in the stillness of the night. The moon hung low in the sky, casting long, sinister shadows that danced across the broken ground.

She had checked out the area earlier, avoiding the main entrances, which were still patrolled by security teams guarding whatever was left in the aftermath of the explosion, a few months ago. She needed to find the storage rooms beneath the building, where the guard had said the wristbands might still be.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she walked through a craggy opening in the wall, her eyes scanning the darkened interior. The building's skeleton remains were a labyrinth of broken beams and collapsed ceilings, the floors plastered with rubble and shattered glass. Every step was a calculated risk, the floorboards creaking ominously beneath her weight.

Y/n made her way down a long corridor, the walls covered in peeling paint and faded sceneries that had once depicted happy, smiling children- an ironic touch for a place that had been anything but.

Her breath stuck in the throat like there's a blockage as she approached a large door at the end of the corridor, its frame cracked and splintered. The guard's words echoed in her mind, urging her forward. She pushed the door open, and stepped into a vast chamber that had once been a laboratory.

Y/n's breath stopped as her eyes landed on the twisted metal chair in the center of the room. It was unmistakable- a torture device designed to restrain and torment its victims. The cold steel of the torture chair, the searing pain of electric currents coursing through her body. The sight of it brought a wave of nausea crashing over her, memories of her own time in such a chair flooding her mind, the mocking laughter of Francis as he watched her suffer in agony.

Flashback

She was strapped to the chair, her wrists bound with cold, hard metal. The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of disinfectant and blood. Francis stood before her, his cold eyes glinting with sadistic glee. He was dressed in his usual black combat gear and white coat, his arms folded as he watched her struggle against the restraints.

"Ready for another round, sweetheart?" he sneered, his voice dripping with malice.

Y/n's heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. She was drenched in sweat, her body trembling from the aftershocks of the last session. She had lost count of how many times he had done this to her, how many times he had pushed her to the brink of death, only to pull her back and start again.

"Please... no more," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Francis chuckled, his laughter a cruel, grating sound that echoed in the small room. "Oh, I'm just getting started," he said, reaching for the control panel beside the chair. His fingers danced over the buttons, and a low hum filled the air as the machine powered up.

Y/n's eyes widened in fear as the currents of electricity surged through her body, her muscles spasming uncontrollably. The pain was unbearable, like being ripped apart from the inside. She screamed, the sound tearing from her throat, but there was no one to hear her, no one to save her.

Francis watched with detached amusement, his expression one of mild curiosity. "You know, it's fascinating," he mused, his voice calm and measured. "Watching how much pain a person can endure before they break. You're tougher than most, I'll give you that."

Her vision blurred as the pain reached a crescendo, her mind teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. But she held on, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her broken. She had to survive, had to escape, no matter what it took.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the currents stopped, and Y/n slumped in the chair, her body limp and exhausted. Francis leaned in close, his face inches from hers.

"Don't worry, darling," he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. "We'll keep doing this until you learn to behave."

Present

Y/n snapped back to the present, her hands trembling as she stared at the torture chair. The memories were like a vice around her chest, squeezing the air from her lungs. But she could not afford to break down now, not when she was so close. She forced herself to move, to search the room for the wristband.

The storage room was hidden behind a steel door, half-buried under rubble. Y/n unlocked it with a crowbar she had found earlier, using all her strength to pull the door free. Inside, she found a small, windowless room lined with shelves. Dust coated everything, the air stale and suffocating. She searched through the shelves, her hands moving frantically as she searched for the device.

Finally, her fingers closed around a small, sleek wristband, its surface smooth and cold to the touch. This was it- the device that could suppress her powers, that could give her the control she so desperately needed.

But as she pulled the wristband from the shelf, a shrill alarm pierced the air, the sound reverberating through the building. Panic surged through Y/n as she realized she had triggered a security system, her heart racing as the distant sound of footsteps echoed through the halls.

She had to get out, and fast.

Y/n bolted from the storage room, clutching the wristband tightly in her hand. She sprinted down the corridor, her mind a blur as she searched for an escape route. The footsteps were getting closer, the shouts of guards filling the air.

She spotted a window at the end of the hall, its glass cracked but still intact. Without hesitation, she launched herself at it, her shoulder slamming into the glass. The window shattered with a deafening crash, and Y/n tumbled through the opening, her body twisting in midair.

The world spun around her as she rolled to her feet, glass shards cutting into her skin. But there was no time to stop, no time to recover her injuries. The guards were right behind her.

Y/n ran, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she sprinted through the darkened streets. The sounds of pursuit faded into the distance, but she did not stop. She could not stop. Not until she was safe.

Finally, after what felt like hours, she slowed to a halt, her body aching and exhausted. She had made it. She had escaped, and she had the wristband. But as she stood there, alone in the shadows, the memories of Essex House lingered in her mind, a reminder of the horrors she had endured- and the revenge she would soon unleash.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈•

Y/n sat in her dimly lit hideout, the cold, metal wristband clasped tightly in her hand. She had waited for this moment, the promise of control over her powers finally within her grasp. With a deep breath, she slipped the wristband onto her wrist. A series of tiny, almost inaudible clicks signaled its activation. She felt a slight hum of energy ripple through her body, a sensation that was both foreign and strangely comforting.

"Okay, Y/n," she whispered to herself, her voice barely more than a murmur in the silence. "Time to see if this thing really works."

Her heart pounded in her chest as she picked up a small, sharp knife. She took a moment to steel herself before pressing the blade against the palm of her hand. Slowly, deliberately, she drew the knife across her skin, wincing as a thin line of blood welled up. She braced herself for the familiar agony of her powers activating, but to her astonishment, the pain remained localized. The cut did not heal as it usually would.

"It works," she breathed, a mix of relief and awe in her voice. "It actually works."

She wrapped her hand in a bandage, her mind already racing with the possibilities. For the first time in years, she felt like she had a measure of control over her life, over her destiny. She was not just a victim of her circumstances; she could be the master of them.

Over the next two years, Y/n threw herself into training with a passion that bordered on obsession. She perfected her combat skills, mastering various martial arts and weapons. She trained with knives, guns, and swords, each session pushing her limits further. Her hideout became a makeshift dojo, littered with training equipment and weapons of all kinds.

Her reputation in the slums grew as she took on hitman jobs to fund her training. She became a ghost, an unseen force of retribution for those who could not fight back.

One evening, she was approached by a woman with bruised arms and tear-streaked cheeks.

"Please," the woman begged, her voice trembling. "My husband... he beats me. I can't take it anymore. Please, make him stop."

Y/n looked into the woman's eyes, seeing the same helplessness and desperation she had felt so many times before. "What's his name?" she asked quietly.

"Jack. Jack Thompson. He works at the docks," the woman replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n nodded. "Consider it done. He won't hurt you again."

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈•

Two years had passed since Y/n had escaped from Francis, two years of relentless training and hard-earned survival. She decided it was time to visit her own grave, a symbolic gesture to honour the person she once was. She made her way to a small flower shop, her mind set on finding the perfect bloom.

As she approached the counter to pay for a single white lily, she saw a woman laughing and chatting with the shopkeeper. The sight made her freeze. It was Vanessa. Alive and well, her smile as bright as ever. Y/n's heart clenched painfully in her chest, pulling her hood that covered her face even more down. She quickly paid for the flower and fled the shop, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and anger.

She reached her grave, a simple, unadorned headstone with her name etched into the cold marble. The vase next to it was empty.

"I see," she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. "Forgotten and abandoned, even in death."

She knelt down, placing the lily in the empty vase. "I can't remember my old self," she said softly, tears welling in her eyes. "She truly did die, as well as her trust in you."

Her thoughts turned dark as she slowly stood up. Wade had saved Vanessa, she realized, her mind piecing together the puzzle with cold clarity.

He must have used Cable's time travel device during the Mutant Rehabilitation incident to go back and save her... but he left me to die.

As she turned and walked away from the grave, she could feel a rising tide of hatred surging within her, anger directed at Wade for abandoning her, for choosing Vanessa over her.

Later that evening, Wade approached the same grave. He was dressed in his red and black costume, the weight of his grief and guilt heavy on his shoulders. In his hand, he held a brand-new flower and a polished vase. He had not missed a single visit, always coming back to this lonely, forgotten corner of the cemetery to leave a token of his sorrow and love.

As he knelt down to place the new flower in the vase, he noticed the fresh lily already there, wilting slightly in the cold night air.

"Who...?" Wade muttered to himself, confusion furrowing his brow. He looked around, but the cemetery was empty and silent.

He placed his own flower beside the lily, a pang of sadness piercing his heart. "I'm sorry," he whispered to the grave. "I'm so damn sorry."

He stood there for a long moment, staring at the headstone as if willing it to give him some sort of answer, some sign that she knew he had not given up on her, that he still mourned her every day.

But the silence of the graveyard offered no reunion, only deepened the gap of misunderstanding that was growing between them, unseen and unspoken.

As Y/n made her way back through the slums, her mind was a storm of emotions. She was determined now, fueled by a dark purpose. She had been forgotten, left to rot in the shadows while Wade had moved on, living his best life with Vanessa.

A twisted sense of revenge began to take root in her heart, and she knew that the next time she crossed paths with Wade, it would be on her terms. And when that day came, there would be a reckoning.

#fanfic #deadpool #deadpool 2 #deadpool 3 #deadpool x reader #fiction #marvel fanfiction #wade wilson #wade wilson x reader #deadpool x y/n #deadpool x you #y/n #x men #x reader #marvel fic #mavel angst #deadpool angst

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 months ago

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The Farmer's Daughter 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

"It was so nice of Walter to help you with the shopping," your mother sings as she puts away a stack of cans in the pantry.

"Yeah," you agree, "it was. Especially 'cause he can carry more bags than me."

She chuckles, "he is rather strong. And big..." she's quiet as she takes out a few more things from a paper bag, "handsome."

"Ma," you gasp and look at the doorway, your father in the next room, still in the recliner.

"I don't mean... not for me," she cackles again.

"Mmm," you put the sugar in the cabinet and turn back as she stares at you, "wait... you mean for me?"

"Well..." her smile falls, "he is so helpful. And nice. And..." she shrugs and shakes her head, "I shouldn't say. Maybe I'm just being ridiculous."

"You are," you insist, "he's... a lot older. Besides, he wouldn't be interested."

"Hon," she chides, "he looks at you." She tilts her head coyly, "he watches you, you don't notice?"

"Ma," you snort again, "stop. You're going to make it awkward."

"I'm just saying. It wouldn't be entirely crazy, would it?"

"Wouldn't it?" You ask.

She's quiet again. She goes into the pantry again as you try to focus on unpacking. She's just trying to distract herself, you're sure. How can you blame her with all that's going on?

Walter is too old and he's standoffish. He's just doing your dad a favour, nothing more than that. You wouldn't blame him for wiping his hands of it all at Timothy's next catastrophe.

A sudden clatter makes you jump and has your mother scrambling out of the pantry. She grasps her chest as you hear Heather's shrill cry, "Patrick!" You rush out ahead of your mom and watch Heather hold him under his arms, placing him back in his chair.

"What's happened?" Your mom shoulders past you.

"He's alright, we were just working on our exercises," the nurse assures as she pulls back, "isn't that right, Patrick?"

Your father gurgles but doesn't speak clearly. Your mother scrunches up her fingers anxiously and hovers behind the recliner, "did he fall?"

"No, no, it was just the table," Heather points to the TV tray overturned on the other side of the chair. "He's doing very good."

"Oh, oh," your mother touches her forehead and heaves, "I was just... scared."

"Ma, why don't you lay down?" You suggest.

"I can't, I got the groceries--"

"I can get the rest," you promise, "please, I know you're not sleeping."

"Hon," she sighs.

"Ma, please, we don't need you getting sick too," you plead.

"Alright, but you come get me in an hour," she demands.

"I will."

Reluctantly she backs away, finally turning at the door. You listen to her creaky ascension and leave Heather with your father. You tremble as you set away the last of the groceries and fold up the paper bags. You tuck them beneath the sink and try to shake off your nerves.

You need a breath of fresh air. Your heady is fuzzy and your eyes glossy. You go out the back door and sit on the back steps. You shudder out a breath and hold your head. The tears trickle out before you can stop them.

The last week you've outpaced the emotions. Keeping busy with your chores, watching after your mom as she does the same for your father. It's like a snake with its own tail. You can't run anymore. Your shoulders rack as you let yourself cry, heaving into your hand as you hiccup loudly.

You just want your dad back. You want the man who used to tell you cheesy jokes about his tractor and pretend to get his finger caught in the machinery. You want everything to be like it used to be. You want to wake up from this nightmare.

You still as you run out of tears. You stay as you are, hunched over and quivering. The buzzing of insects and gentle sway of the grass hums in the air.

A sudden pounding in the grass brings your head up. Walter jogs towards you, wiping away sweat from his brow as he slows. He wears only a ribbed white take, dampened around his chest and sides. Concern ripples in his forehead as he approaches.

"Everything alright?" He puffs as he kneels before you.

"I... yeah, I'm sorry," you mop your face with your knuckles, "I was just... it's nothing."

You try to smile and your cheeks pinch and your mouth downturns. The strain in your lips tugs at your heart again and you sniff back another wave of tears, another droplet slipping free.

"Sweetheart," he rasps and surprises you as he moves to sit beside you on the step, crowding you against the short railing.

He drapes his arm around you and pulls you to him, pushing your head on his shoulder. He rocks you and hushes you. Even trapped in grief, you can't help but be stunned by his gentleness.

"I'm okay," you insist and try to draw back.

"You shouldn't hold it in," he says as he brings his hand up to pet your head, "your father's a good man--"

Before he can finish, you sob again. You shake your head and bury your face against him. You can't stop. You throw your arm around his neck and pull yourself close. He welcomes you in as his arm snakes snugger around you.

"I'm sorry," you babble, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." you chant the apology over and over as he hushes you. You can't stop. It's all spilling out and there's no way to stem the deluge.

#series #au #drabble #the farmer's daughter #night hunter #walter marshall #dark walter marshall #dark!walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #backwoods au

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daenysx · 4 months ago

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Could i request modern!aemond conforting his wife who just had the baby and is super tired and him taking care of the baby at dawn and making her sleep🥺

i wrote the tiniest piece for this for the sad girl sleepover, here's a little longer version. i hope you enjoy <3

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

aemond's arm is carefully wrapped around you. for the past weeks it was difficult to sleep together, ever since you had your baby. now, it's slightly easier, and he's always cautious to not hurt you.

your muscles gave up completely after you nursed baby alyssa at night. she seemed peaceful enough when aemond put her on her tiny bed, it stays next to yours. you know aemond always wakes up to check on her, that makes your sleep better. you put your head on his shoulder in a weird angle but it's enough to feel him.

when the sun blinks its first light into the room, aemond stirs. he's used to waking up the moment he opens his eye, he doesn't bother to try sleeping again. like a shadow in your arms, he moves quietly, not letting you realize he's leaving the bed.

the first thing to do is looking at the cradle. alyssa's still sleeping, that gives him time to go to bathroom and maybe make some coffee. he stares at her for a few seconds. being a father is a tricky thing. he thinks he can burn down the entire world just to keep her warm. he can be a fucking poet if that's what it takes. anything to keep the heavy emotions out of his chest.

he walks to the kitchen after bathroom, the morning chill is cool against his bare chest. he makes a cup of coffee silently, opens the giant window of living room to get some air inside.

"aemond?" a sleepy voice calls for him. you walk to the window, he's already wrapping an arm around you. "why did you wake up so early? she's still sleeping."

he answers with a kiss on your forehead. "it's okay." he says. "how are you feeling?"

"i'm fine." you say. "sleepy."

aemond holds you in his arms for a selfish minute. your sleepy head drops on his shoulder, his hand goes to your head to stroke your hair. "go back to sleep. i can take care of her if she wakes up." he says, giving you a convincing kiss on your forehead.

"but you need to wake me up if she's hungry."

"i will." aemond promises. he almost carries you to warm bed, rubbing your back to help you fall asleep again.

when you're finally sound asleep, he sits on the edge of the bed. from this angle he can see alyssa, her pretty face and tiny fists. she's a perfect baby, and he's not saying that just because she's his. he is getting wrapped around her finger pretty fast, faster than he thinks.

she's a peaceful baby, content to be in her bed. when she blinks her giant baby eyes open, aemond gives her an easy smile. she holds onto his pinky, moving her tiny arm as sleep starts leaving her. it's always funny to watch a baby trying to stretch, and she's just so little, not even a month old. she doesn't know what to do with her body. aemond holds her hand, lets her stay in bed a little longer.

"morning, beautiful." he says. the smile becomes permanent on his lips.

alyssa tries to lift her arms. her fingers move, she wants to be lifted. aemond takes her in his arms carefully, minding her head just how his mother showed him. she's so warm, he walks around the house a little bit to distract her.

she's not hungry yet, he thinks, only a bit restless when she just woke up. you can sleep a little longer, aemond will keep her occupied with words she doesn't understand. the tone of his voice helps, though. alyssa stays tucked on her father's chest.

their final stop is the bed you sleep in. aemond lays next to you with his baby on his chest, moving slowly to let you keep resting. "we gotta be quiet." he whispers to alyssa as if she knows what he's talking about. "we'll let mommy sleep, okay? okay, pretty girl."

they spend the early morning like this. alyssa seems happy to be on his chest, he's more than happy to keep her there. you blink your eyes open to both of them watching you. it's a nice sight to wake up. aemond supports your back as you try to sit up to greet your baby.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #modern!aemond #aemond x you #aemond x reader #hotd #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #dad!aemond

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hughiecampbelle · 4 months ago

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Gen V Preference: Taking Care Of You When Sick:

A/N: Not requested, just a cute idea I had :) I thought about what Luke would do and I got a little obsessed lol! Feedback is always appreciated!!! 💜💜💜

Luke is attentive and careful and actually really good at determining when or if doctors should get involved. He can tell the difference between a regular cough and a Pneumonia cough. He goes out and gets everything you'd need (and then some). He's good at playing nurse and listens when you tell him it's nothing, just a cold. He's seen you through the flu, so he at least knows when you're being honest and when you're down playing it. He makes sure you don't move, handing you the remote to the TV and checking in on you between classes (or skipping them altogether despite your objections) and makes sure you take medicine every few hours on the dot. It's like the way he took care of Sam growing up, looking after him. It makes him feel wanted and helpful, even more super than when he's in the arena.

Jordan avoids you at all costs. Because they've never been sick, they treat it like the plague. It freaks them out that your body is hot but you're freezing, piling on the blankets. They know there's no way they could catch it, but that doesn't mean it doesn't gross them out. The coughing, the sneezing, the tissues. They don't want to be near any of it. They leave you in their dorm with everything you need, but that's as far as they'll go. They keep a respectable distance and remind you about their busy day (classes, study groups, extracurriculars, their internship, etc.) so they won't be around much. You know how they really feel and try not to take it personally. Jordan isn't cold, but they're not the most nurturing or warm. You didn't expect them to dote on you. You know they'll come back when you're better, more like yourself, and things between you will be fine.

Andre isn't exactly sure what to do or how to help. He knew that humans were way more fragile than Supes. There's the obvious: they're not indestructible, they don't have super strength or x-ray vision, they can't fly and they aren't able to control things. And there's the not so obvious: they catch and spread viruses and bugs, especially when they're kids, and it's just part of the human experience. He understands the basics of the immune system, but you end up having to explain that it's small, it'll pass in a few days, and all you need is rest. He makes sure you're comfortable and have everything you need, but then he kinda stands there a little clueless. You take your medicine and fall asleep on and off. You don't need him to look after you, you just appreciate his company.

Cate isn't the most thoughtful or caring. She knows what will happen, how you'll get worse before you get better, and she knows you can take care of yourself, so she really leaves it up to you. She might hang around and try to sound empathetic, but for the most part her day, her schedule, isn't thrown off because you're sick. She might even avoid you. She can't make you get better faster, it's the type of thing that needs to run its course. Because she has no control over the situation, she has little interest in it and you. She might feign worry or interest or whatever emotion is necessary for the situation, but for the most part she lets you be on your own, checking in between classes or activities. Once you're feeling better, that's when she returns to her affectionate self, that's when she goes back to controlling you.

Marie has seen human sickness before. Her mom and dad and sister each fell victim to flu season every couple years and she would get to play nurse, feeling like a hero because she took care of them. When you get sick she isn't fazed or worried, she knows it'll go away in a few days, maybe a little longer. There isn't a lot from her childhood she likes to remember or reminisce on, but looking after her sister and her parents is definitely one of the sweeter memories she has. She gets you everything you need and makes sure you're comfortable and, despite her best efforts, you shoo her away to class, telling her you'll sleep while she's away. She texts you during class checking-in. She might even open up a little and tell you about the time her mom was sick and she spent the whole day with her in bed, heating up soup and bringing in more tissues. She was so scared the first time it happened, but her mom talked her down and explained everything.

Emma makes fun of you. You're so sniffly and achy and snuggled up in her bed with every blanket you can find. You look and sound ridiculous. Once she realizes this bug isn't that serious and will be out of your system in a few days, she's not too worried. She offers you booze and weed, unsure of how to help, and you thank her, but turn her down politely. What you really need is an endless supply of tissues and bad TV. That she can do, pulling up the streaming services on her computer and grabbing every roll of toilet paper from the communal bathrooms. Because she can't get sick, she lies beside you and the two of you fall asleep together. She's not particularly nurturing, but she finds other ways to make you feel better that is far more fitting for her personality.

Sam freaks out. When he was locked away, getting sick meant certain death. He knows he shouldn't jump to that kind of conclusion, but he just gets so afraid. So many people he knew (or at least learned their faces) died because of a virus. You telling him that you caught one sends him into a panic. Realizing this, you immediately clarify it's just a cold, it's nothing. At first he avoids you, afraid of what will happen. Will your skin bubble up and fall off? Will your eyes melt? Will you lose all feeling from the chest down? Will any of this be permanent? You break it down for him: how long it'll last, the symptoms, the medications you'll take. That eases some of his anxieties and, after you get better, he feels silly for freaking out. The next time you get sick, especially if it's worse like the flu or pneumonia, you go through the cycle again.

#preference #luke riordan #luke riordan x reader #jordan li #jordan li x reader #andre anderson #andre anderson x reader #cate dunlap #cate dunlap x reader #marie moreau #marie moreau x reader #emma meyer #emma meyer x reader #sam riordan #sam riordan x reader #gen v #gen v x reader

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artdcnaldson · 6 months ago

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patricks sister au has me in a tizzy hes so mean my pussy is sopping wet but what if he got meaner - what if he started dating someone just to get the message across. kisses her where you can see and acts all boyfriendy. what he doesn't know is that ur certifiably insane and purposely crash dates he has with her under the guise of 'i need a ride home.' and 'i need help with homework.' art knows what you're doing, isn't impressed by it.

but one day his girlfriend takes it upon herself to snap at you - maybe you're at a party and this time its not a ploy - you really do just want to go home - and you come up to art and his girlfriend rolls her eyes like, "jesus, here comes your fucking fan club, art." looks at you like, "you know you're annoying right. that everyone knows you have a crush on him? take a fucking hint. he. doesn't. want. you."

and you get tears in your eyes, bottom lip wobbling.... you run off so you dont see the absolute look of rage that flits over arts face. the way he becomes a wall of ice. if he was mean to you the cold way he turns to his girlfriend and promptly dumps her in front of everyone is downright evil.

of course he has to come find you ☹️ and he has to say sorry ☹️ and maybe you'll forgive him and leave him alone if he tells you really truly honestly...... that he doesn't want you. and if he cant say that...... then at least, cant he be your first kiss? please? you'll milk more tears out if you have to.

GODDDD <3

It’s so obvious what you’re doing. But maybe he shouldn’t have his dates on campus, shouldn’t bring his girlfriend to parties he knows you’re going to be at. It’s like he’s asking for you to do it.

And yeah the past excuses have been total bullshit. They were so weak, not even convincing, but you could always count on Art to walk you back to your dorm with his girlfriend in tow. He stops at your door, she lingers behind, and you smile all pretty and thank him.

Alone in your room, you wonder if he’s going to take her back to his dorm to fuck her. You’ve seen the way he kisses her— sweet and gentle, the way boyfriends kiss. You wonder what it’s like when they fuck— if he keeps that same sweet, doting facade on when he’s fucking into her cunt.

Probably. Art’s sweet, he’s respectable. You’re the only one who brings out the fire in him in your brother’s absence. It must be boring when they fuck. Missionary, cowgirl, doggy when he’s feeling adventurous.

You’d never be boring for him, never let things get stale. You don’t even know why he likes her, why he wastes his time. Sure, she’s pretty, she’s… an English major? Whatever.

So the next time you’re at a party and you come up to Art, they figure it’s just jealousy. That you’re just trying to break them apart. Again.

Your DD left with a polisci major, you were drunk and ready to leave. Two hours of watching Art and his fucking girlfriend suck face and grind to shitty music had left a sour taste in your mouth. You just wanted to be home in your bed already.

So you walked up to the two of them nursing beers in a group. She rolled her eyes at the sight of you, whispered something to one of her friends. You ignored her, tugged on Art’s arm.

“Can you walk me back to my dorm, please?”

It’s supposed to be earnest, it is earnest. But Art can’t get a word in before She interrupts.

“Jesus Christ. This whole thing you’re doing isn’t cute anymore. It’s just really fucking annoying, and we’re all fucking sick of it. Find someone else to throw yourself over and leave Art alone. You’re just embarrassing him at this point.”

You try to be a Big Girl about it, to say something back, but all you can manage is a weak I’m sorry before you’re leaving with hot tears streaking your cheeks and a nauseous pit in your stomach.

You don’t hear about the aftermath until later— whispers from a friend, really. Art had laid in on her after what she said. Called her things you’d never heard him say, that you couldn’t even imagine. Calling her a fucking cunt, telling her to mind her own fucking business and keep her fucking mouth shut about you. Shoved her off of him, told her to lose his fucking number.

But you didn’t know that. All you knew was barely five minutes after you had walked into the door and crawled into bed, there was a knock on the door.

You groaned, opened the door with teary, smeared makeup and a weak frown. Because seeing Art just makes it worse.

“I’m sorry Art, I never meant to embarrass you, and I know I’ve been horrible and awful and I’ve made you do awful things, and i don’t know when to just give up and it’s not fair to you.” He walks with you into the room, shuts the door and pulls you against his chest.

He smells like cigarettes and weed and beer and his girlfriend’s perfume. It makes you cry harder. “I’m really sorry, Art. I’ll leave you alone, I promise. I’ll tell Patrick to let you off the hook, and you won’t have to see me anymore.”

He pets your hair, leans back and wipes your tears with soft brushes of his thumbs along your cheeks. “You really don’t want me?” You ask weakly. “Not even a little bit?”

He swallows hard, because he doesn’t want to lie to you. Not tonight, not when you’re already feeling so bad. But what the two of you have isn’t healthy, it’s not what you need.

You sniffle, nod. “Will you just kiss me, then? Once? Please?”

His lips meet yours gently at first, with all the sweetness you’d expected from him, the same kind of kisses he’d give a girlfriend. You feel his tongue brush against yours and moan into his mouth.

It’s short— way too short— but you lean back with your lips tasting like him and that’s all your heart can handle for the night. Really it is.

“You should go,” you say finally, blinking away your tears and wiping at your eyes. “Really, I, uh, I have plans tomorrow, so—“

You don’t have plans, none at all. But he nods, kisses your forehead once.

When you’re in bed, you open your phone, text Art. I’m really sorry. You lock it and try to sleep.

#reader is like me bc being embarrassing is the worst possible fate #Patrick’s sister au

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the-fandom-is-now-my-life · 7 months ago

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Could umm… you happen to do another if creator had a child and its wanderer. The only odd/strange thing about the baby is that they have ball joints like a puppet?just wondering

The creator had a

Doll like child

Wc: ~700

“Wanderer?” You ask without fully expecting an answer, whenever you spend the night stargazing both of you get lost in your thoughts.

“What?”

“What we did a few weeks ago was to spite Raiden?” your eyes look at him,m while he still lays down, the dark fibers of his hair brushing against the milky white of his skin “Hey, answer”

“You are incredible, you know” his brow furrows and softly sighs “asking such dumb questions”

“Just answer it”

“Do you truly need me to say it to your face?” he looks tired, as if the question seemed so unbelievably obvious to him. When your eyes meet he sighs again like an angsty teen “no, I didn't start intimacy with you just to bother the hag. I would never fall that low”

A soft hum leaves your lips, nodding to the comforting words you had to wrangle out of him.

“Why even the question? That was like four months ago”

“I think I might be pregnant” his surprised jolt almost made him slide off the roof.

“How is that possible even?” He presses his elbow, feeling the ball and socket joint underneath the false skin. Two pieces of wood rotating around a small sphere rather than your own arm, where the bones were secured by ligaments and muscles had to contract for every movement.

“Honestly, I wonder the same”

“Aren't you supposed to know everything?”

“Last time I checked dolls weren't able to reproduce”

“Do you think it will be human or more like… me?” the last part of his question sounded almost heartbroken. Softly you grasp his fingers in your hand, encouraging him.

“I will love them regardless”

“How weird, at birth Ara seemed pretty hypotonic, but now she seems alright” one of the bimarstan nurses checks the baby, pulling her off the ground from her arms and laying her flat on her palm. But she felt like a ragdoll if it wasn't by her breathing and her annoyed expression by the handling

“At least there doesn't seem to be anything else”

“let's just keep an eye on it” she promptly returns her to you.

‘could that be because of wanderer? He said that part of what kept him together was elemental energy, it could be that as she grows she absorbs it’

“Ara, what are you doing?” You ask playfully to the toddler who sneaked in the kitchen and made a mess with the pots and lids.

“I see someone is quite active this morning, huh?” The father of said child pops from behind you, passes by your side and plops the year old on his hip. Her gummy smile is an adorable sight, her chubby hand pointing to his hat and the other grabbing the lid she put on her head.

“Are you trying to imitate someone?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He looks at his child and back at you “we aren't even that similar” he says while holding his mini clone. At the same time they both lean their head sideways, the hats leaning towards that side.

“Isn't she so cute?” Nahida looks at your toddler daughter brushing her doll's hair, her dark hair framing her face and her big blue eyes reflecting the sunlight off them.

“She does remind me of a Hina doll” Raiden approaches a hand to pat her head but Ara slaps it away before poking out her tongue and rushes outside “did she just…”

Your hand cups your cheek, curious at what happened to your usual quiet baby “That is quite unexpected, she does tend to enjoy getting her hair played with” could hatred be inherited by genes? That was the only reason you could think of for a 3 year old to hate Raiden on sight.

“And if you see a woman wearing a kimono and a braid she is a witch that came to curse you, so make sure to kick her in the shin, understood?”

“Kitty!” the girl yells as she opens her presents

“Yes, that is a cat, Bu’er brought it to you for you birthday” as you look deeper into the black cat you can't help but feel its dark fur and purple eyes remind you of someone. Even more so when a small black kitten and a coloured cat are also in the box.

#genshin impact #gi #sagau #genshin x reader #self aware genshin impact #genshin sagau #wanderer x reader #wanderer #scaramouche #genshin scara #scara x reader #scara #sagau x reader #genshin impact sagau

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holmsister · 9 months ago

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I think one of the things Dungeon Meshi is definitely about is how different people deal with being an outsider/marginalised/neurodivergent/what have you and basically what im getting at is that Kabru is TEXTBOOK "high functioning [insert diagnosis here]". Its that how they say it still? Don't care.

Basically. This man shows up and you listens to him talk and see how his party treats him and you think. Oh this is a cool guy who has his shit together. And then after like two pages you find out that he has constant flashbacks to Utaya that make him completely freeze, anxiety attacks, thought spirals, is incapable of analyzing his own feelings, is a stuttering mess when the stakes are high, has never done a chore in his life, keeps putting himself in triggering situations and re-traumatising himself, and the icing on the cake is when you read the extra material and it turns out he regularly forgets to eat and lives in a depression nest of dirty clothes and self-medicates insomnia with alcohol and also is 22. Which also kind of puts Misilril not wanting to let him go in another light - yeah for sure she's controlling and infantilising and also its not like she was really helping his issues but also she was not entirely wrong in her judgement. This man does NOT know how to take care of himself. He knows how to do the bare minimum so when he shows up at work the next day he can fool his coworkers into thinking hes got it together enough. For a bit.

He is DEEPLY unwell and he knows it but he is carried by the desperate wish to avoid another catastrophe. If he stops for a moment he KNOWS he'll collapse so he doesn't.

I also think this is why him acting nurse to Mithrun is such an important part of his arc. Its like. This person who has spent all of his adult life focused on a single objective disregarding everything else is faced with what happens when you do that for too long. And the result is a wet tissue of a creature who looks like he doesn't know where he is most of the time.

He is a man on the brink. I have no doubt he felt relieved when he decided he could trust Laios - not even in a Labru way, straight up because he knew he could not keep going like this.

But also like. Of all the characters in the manga, I think Senshi and Kabru are the most lonely ones. Except Senshi seems to be OK with solitude - for sure it's not entirely healthy to be alone for as long as he was but he definitely did well enough. He is very good at taking care of himself. Meanwhile Kabru *knows* a lot of people but can you really say he has friends? Rin, maybe, arguably, but even she does not seem to truly know him, you know? He keeps himself hidden from everyone. I think the only time we see him entirely honest is when he says to Laios that he wanted to be his friend, and hes so shocked when it comes out, you can tell he did not mean to say it. And differently from Senshi, he does NOT fare well alone. He likes people, he needs people. Again compare with Mithrun - he has like a squad of people taking care of him. If Kabru had a breakdown of that size can you say his party would go out of its way to help? Im not sure. Not because they're bad people, but because he's simply not that intimate with any of them.

Idk man it just struck me all of a sudden. Laios is weird and offputting and doesn't care about other humans the way Kabru does and YET he is infinitely more successful at building deep, meaningful relationships and taking care of himself as well. I think this is part of why Kabru is so fascinated with him as well. He can tell Laios has something he doesn't have. Wait this is turning into a whole another post I'll write this next time.

#kabru #dungeon meshi spoilers #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #meta #meowing to myself #this is why ive grown so attached to him i realised. i mean who said that. now if youll excuse me i have to go wash a week worth of dishes

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sillygoosealert · 9 months ago

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🫡 I will send in a request for some Bi-Han angst. Let’s do one where reader and Bi Han are in an argument (as couples do) and reader says something that’s very true (like idk he’s too quick to anger) And this causes a reaction out of him. And of course, being a stinky sexy angry man, he ends up lashing out in anger. And OOP- ice shards come flying towards reader, (the cold never bothered me anyway) cutting her cheek and slashing her forearm, along with a few other scrapes. Bi Han realizes she’s actually fucking RIGHT and showers reader with love, praise, and begins helping with her wounds. (Fluffy? Apology sex maybe 🤔)

WAIT WAIT THINK THINK BRAIN BLAST THIS IS REALLY AMAZING

Enough Anna..I SAID ENOUGH o(≧口≦)o

Bi-Han angst to fluff to sex 🤯 afab

‘Do you even for once want to think about how I feel about this? Because if you took a second to even talk to me half of your problems wouldn’t exist.’

His back is turned from you as he washes the blood out of one of his uniforms

‘Why won’t you look at me, I want to talk to you but you make it so, so hard. Can you even look at me, can you handle looking at me?’

‘Wouldn’t you like that? For me to just look at you and change everything about me. This is who I am, and you can either acknowledge that or continue to live in ignorance.’

‘But this isn't who you are. You are making rash and unusual decisions. I'm worried you are going to do something you'll regret immensely. You're quick to rage and you know that.’

He whips around, ice coming from his arm going towards you

‘What would you know about being Grandmaster? I am helping my clan- my people. They are thriving and are respected because of me.’

You don't hear what he says as your arms go up to protect your face and stomach from the ice shards.

They slice through your skin with ease, going through your forearm and shoulder. One even skims your cheek

It was only after his speech that Bi-Han noticed what he had done, a rash, and unusual decision that he immediately regretted.

But he doesn't make a move to go toward you, he just stands there in shock

However, you move, you move away from him quite quickly

‘Come back here. I meant no harm in my actions.’

You do not come back. You run off to the nurses

When the sky turns dark and inflicts its symptoms of the night- drowsiness, and the need for another to be by your side as you rest; you are no where to be seen

He knows it would be better to find you himself

So he wonders around until he finds you, bandaged up and sitting on a bench

‘I have been looking for you’

You look in his direction

‘Why didn't you come back’

‘You know why’

‘Please come back’

He's frowning, more than usual

‘Please?’

‘Please’

You get up, slowly walking to him

‘What do you need me to do to get you to come back?’

‘I don't know Bi-Han, everything hurts and I'm injured. I don't know if I want to come back.’

‘I’ll carry you back if you would like’

‘You’ll carry me back?’

You sound amused but he looks serious

He picks you up bridal style and starts to walk back to his room

‘You can’t just change for a day and expect me to forgive you. I don't think you'll keep up with this.’

‘With what?’

‘Being nice to me.’

He doesn't say anything to that.

After he returns to his room, he sits you on the bed

‘You are dirty’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘How do I help you clean, with your bandages?’

‘I need to take them off first, then put on new ones after’

‘So it's fine if you clean your wounds in the bath?’

‘Yes’

‘Okay..’

He takes you to his bathroom, carefully undressing you

‘Ow-’

‘Did I hurt you, What did I do?’

‘My shirt, you took it off too fast. My shoulder isn't looking good, I can just take off my own clothes..’

He shakes his head, pulling you onto his lap

‘I will be more gentle. Where else do I need to be wary of?’

‘It's just my upper body, everything else is mostly fine’

After removing your clothes, he turns on the water

Keeping you on his lap, he strokes your hair with one hand, and the other is wrapped around your waist

‘Feel the water, is that temperature okay with you?’

‘That's fine’

He slips you in, holding onto your chest rather than your arms

‘I am regretful of my earlier treatment of you. Will you let me show you I am sorry?’

‘Depends, how do you plan on showing me you didn't mean to harm me?’

‘You will see’

After bathing you, he sits you on his bed

‘Where do I need to wrap you?’

‘Shoulder and arm, anything else is fine being left alone’

He's slow and cautious when treating you, knowing you are vulnerable

You sit there naked and shivering as a man, much gruff, holds you

‘Does that feel secure?’

‘Yes, thank you’

‘I am..sorry’

‘I know’

He frowns, squeezing your cheeks with one of his hands

You return this act, cupping his face with one of your hands

When you think he's leaning in to kiss you, he just presses his forehead against yours

‘I want to make you feel good’

‘How do you plan to do that?’

He's in between your thighs, slowly laying down so his head is on your cunt

With a little kitten lick, he starts to work on your clit

His hands are gripping your thighs as you have a hold of his hair

Slipping in two fingers, he starts to pump them in and out of your warm pussy

One of his hands wonders onto your chest and plays with your nipple

Then he starts to thrust his tongue into your vagina, his fingers now playing with your clit

The pace is fast and hard, and he's grinding into the bed

His nose is stimulating you along with his fingers, its too much

You don't ask him to stop though, that doesn't even cross your mind

With another suck to your clit your hips stutter and you squirt into his mouth

He licks it up, even lapping at your pussy to try to get more

Sighing into the bed, he rides out your orgasm

When he doesn't stop though, your thighs clench around his head on instinct

Pulling away, he wipes his lips

‘Did you feel good?’

‘Yes Bi-Han, thank you’

‘Do you still hold what happened earlier against my character?’

‘I won't just forget what happened, but I don't hate you for it’

You run your fingers through his hair as he lays his head on your chest

‘Okay..’

‘I love you, I hope you know that’

‘Thank you..’

You kiss his head and you both doze off, what happened earlier doesn't matter right now

Nothing matters right now, it's okay

🎀

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luveline · 10 months ago

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Hi jade, I have a hurt/comfort request for Steve, maybe reader was there with the party for all the vecna stuff and maybe gets hurt, afterwards Steve taking care of her and staying w her in the hospital and stuff? Love your writing!

thank you for requesting <3 fem!reader

“Did you know there’s like, a concessions stand?”

You moan at the pain between your shoulders, turning onto your arm. Steve lounges in the chair beside you with a paper plate of donuts on his chest. His legs are kicked up on your bed. He’s taken his shoes off, at least.

“Free donuts, coffee, they even had flapjacks.”

“Steve, I think you have to pay for those.”

He puts the plate on your bed. “Well, they can’t send you to jail.”

“‘Cos my back’s broken?”

“‘Cos you’re too pretty for prison.” Steve sits up properly. “You need help?”

He moves the donuts again onto your nightstand and hooks you under the arms to ease you into a sitting position. You’re back isn’t broken, for the record, but you fell funny coming out of the gate a few days ago and you haven’t bounced back yet. Worse, you've got an infected burn on your hand, wrist and arm from your Molotov cocktail. It’s out of commission, as are you while they pump antibiotics into the crook of your elbow. Steve’s careful not to tug your IV.

You gasp, the twinge in your back turning to flame. “I know,” Steve murmurs, shockingly sincere, “I’m sorry. You’re not supposed to lie down all the time, or it won’t get better.”

“I know.”

“Yeah, of course you do. You know everything.”

Insult or compliment, you’re unsure. What you do know is that Steve’s come to see you every day since you were checked in, he’s the one who checked you in, and he’s taken good care of you so far. He’s not even your boyfriend, you thought he liked Nancy— but he’s rubbing his hands down your shoulders and looking you in your face despite the horror he’s sure to be witnessing. Bruised eye, greasy nose, hair thankfully clean but completely untouched otherwise.

“Better?” he asks, cupping your cheek.

Is he gonna kiss me? you think. You glance down at his lips, then back up. Steve doesn’t notice or doesn’t mention it, his fingers drawing a gentle path behind your ear as his thumb aligns with your jaw.

“Hey, don’t cry.”

You shake your head. “No, I’m not.”

“Sorry, you just looked so sad for a second.” He laughs wryly. Though you don’t feel like he’s making fun of you, he teases, “Cheer up. What have you got to be so sad about?”

“You keep harassing me.”

“Oh, that’s how it is!” He tips his head back. “Nurse! I’d like to report a thief!”

You gasp, laugh, and attempt to cover his mouth as strikes of pain nibble up your spine. “Steve, don’t–” He catches your hands to stop you from silencing him, but he doesn’t shout again, holding your hands together in his lap, smiling smugly and affectionately at once. He has nice eyes that are almost almond in shape and a lovely light brown. They glow in the slither of light that sneaks its way through the blinds, raw amber, stomach-achingly pretty.

You can’t look at him for too long. You defer to your hands scrunched up in the sheets instead.

“I did pay for the donuts, by the way. I’m just messing with you.”

You try to laugh. “Why doesn't that surprise me?”

“You act like I’m such a jerk,” he says fondly, pulling you in for a cautious hug. He’s tender when he needs to be, you’d never have thought it of him, how sweetly and softly he rubs your back, how he murmurs near your ear. “Do you need more meds? I’m sure they can get you another dose of the good stuff if you pretend your gummy arm is aching.”

“Thanks, Steve, but I’m fine.”

He hums. “Think I can get them to let me stay the night?”

“Steve, I’m really okay.”

“It’s not about you, I just don’t wanna go home,” he lies poorly, “they don’t have donuts at home–”

His hand leaves your back. “Are you eating over my shoulder?” you ask.

He hugs you tighter with the remaining arm. “What? No.”

You feel sprinkles falling down your back and ignore it for now. He’ll have to help you out of bed in a few minutes anyways. He can sort it out then. For now, you lean into his chest and close your eyes tight.

“I’ll sleep better in the chair by your bed,” he promises.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington scenario #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

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borbygorlinbbqworld · 8 months ago

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A woman doesn't notice that one of the bras she bought is a nursing one. Once she wears it her boobs fill with milk and keep growing

Anya had always had big boobs.

Ever since they had started growing at age 13, they had been on the larger scale. The process for buying bathing suits and bras in particular had always proven a challenge; she had a very petite frame, but her breasts seemed to stick out of everything, and were often sore from the padding that came with retail bras.

Which was why finding the Abra Cadabra bra in the return pile at Target meant so much to her. She looked at herself wearing it in the mirror, turning this way and that. There was virtually no padding, so while her nipples did poke through the fabric a bit, it was super comfortable. The straps didn't dig in, which was another huge bonus.

She marveled at how well it supported her jugs, even bouncing them by the straps. Though they did jiggle quite a bit, it still felt comfortable.

She smiled at herself in the bathroom mirror, finally content. She looked at the box the bra came in, wondering how she had missed this product for so long.

Nursing Bra.

Anya's cheeks flushed. The reason it must have fit so well was because the bra was intended for women with massive jugs nursing their kids.

It was a little embarrassing, but so what, right? No one would know the bra was meant for--

Suddenly, Anya felt a tightness in her breasts. It was a feeling she usually got when her bras were too small, but this bra fit, didn't it? She looked at herself in the mirror, but nothing seemed amiss.

But the feeling continued, even through to the next week.

She stood in front of the mirror again with her top pulled over her breasts, examining them. Her healthy, round double Gs looked... different.

She was no stranger to her cycle filling her cups up a little bit here and there, but this was different. Her breasts looked swollen and full, and they felt like they weighed a ton. Her nipples were constantly hard now, poking through the fabric of the bra like two aching cherries.

"Holy fuck..."

Anya whipped around, jostling her full breasts, and startled at the sound of the man's voice. Ben, her older brother's friend, stood before her. His cheeks were flushed as he stared down at her chest.

She fumbled with her shirt, doing her best to pull it back down over her boobs, but the fabric protested. It was a stretchy fabric, but even it has its limits. Finally, she shoved them into the shirt, the tightness forcing breath from her.

The shirt certainly hadn't been that tight when she put it on this morning...

"Sorry," she finally said. "I was just seeing something..."

"Looking at how big they've gotten?" Ben asked.

Anya flushed. So he noticed too... "I don't know what you mean."

He reached his hands over, gently hoisting her heavy boobs up. She released a heavy sign of relief; who knew her back ached so much from them!

But Ben didn't stop there. Gently, he rubbed his thubs over her nipples, hardening them further. Anya let out a moan; good God, that felt good!

What didn't feel good, however, was the continued tightness in her chest as it strained against a t-shirt unequipped to hold her endowment.

"Your tits were already big. Now, they're..."

Anya squeaked helplessly as he massaged her breasts occasionally jiggling them around. Every jostle not only made her shirt feel even tighter, but her clit begged for release.

"Can I tell you something?" Ben tore his gaze from her breasts to look her in the eyes. "I always had a bit of a crush on you when we were all younger. Couldn't help but picture marrying you, and getting you pregnant as many times as I possibly could."

She bit her lip to stifle the moan of pleasure his words brought her.

Riiiip.

What was that? Anya was too distracted to look away from Ben to bother. He continued handling her, sinking his fingers into her flesh; she could feel each and every gland swell at his touch.

"I couldn't stop myself from thinking about how I'd fuck you, even when you're pregnant. How your tits would get so fucking huge, you'd be some bed-ridden breeding cow..."

His thumbs swirled around the outside of her areolas, teasing the hell out of her.

Finally, with another sound of tearing fabric, she realized her shirt had ripped. Her full breasts pulled her forward from the added weight, and she moaned.

They had never felt this engorged before, let alone so full. She caught sight of them in the mirror. Where she had already been a well-endowed double G cup before, she doubted her old bras would even cover her nipples anymore. The massive mounds had deep blue veins that throbbed near her nipples, and her breasts would have filled her entire lap had Ben not been supporting them.

"God, I wanna put babies in you so bad..."

Her underwear soaked at the suggestion. The idea of being impregnated by him right now made Anya burn with desire.

His touches were agonizingly arousing, and her teats begged for release.

Release?

Finally, Ben squeezed at her nipples playfully, and she realized what had been happening. Two hot spurts of milk showered his face. Anya moaned with pleasure and from the relief; holy fuck, it felt good!

Ben let her breasts go, once again causing her to lurch forward a bit. They swayed, sloshing the gallons of milk that had come out of nowhere. He knelt down so her teats were at eye level before pulling the nursing bra down to reveal her puffy nipples. Steady streams of milk leaked from them, and she begged him internally to lap it up.

But that wasn't the only thing her body needed at the moment, was it?

She stared down at him needily. "B-Ben?"

He looked up, a small smile on his face. "Yeah?"

Anya unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down her legs. "I need you to fuck me. Like... right now."

-----

🐮❤️

#breast expansion #lactation kink tw #tw lactation kink #massive breasts #smut #huge natural melons #huge cleavage #mommy milkers #big tiddy committee #writing

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beastofburdenxo · 3 months ago

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Milk Drunk

Tommy spends some much needed time with his mommy.

Tags: breastfeeding, lactation kink, oral fixation, needy tommy, praise kink, handjob, mommy kink, Tommy is such a good boy, breast worship, body worship

"Tommy, baby, I can hear you chewing your lip. Now keep on, and you'll get it all sore." Tommy had been antsy all morning, finally the two of you have some alone time and you can go into mommy mode. "No, no, baby. Focus on this instead, yeah?" You place your finger up against Tommy's lips, forcing its way inside. "Suck." Early on, you discovered Tommy's oral fixation, but it took some time to earn his trust and let you take care of him the way he needs.

Tommy took to your finger immediately, forgetting his lips. He looked at you with such adoration, knowing you take such good care of him. You smile and kiss his forehead. Tommy leans forward for a cuddle, and you can't help but oblige. With your finger still in his mouth, he buries into your chest, breathing in your perfume.

It doesn't take him long to realize that you are without a bra. His warm breath going through your blouse, hardening your nipples. Tommy pulls your finger out of his mouth at his newest discovery. Greedily pawing at your blouse, sucking on the skin already exposed to him. "Now, Tommy, don't be greedy. You'll make me leak and mess up my pretty blouse. Don't be rude to Mommy."

You gently pull him off and hold his face. Tommy's lip trembles at knowing he did something wrong. "Sorry, mommy." He struggles at making eye contact. "You don't have a bra on, and they were right there."I know, baby, they just speak to you, don't they?" You coo at Tommy. "Titty baby, just can't help it. He needs mommy's milk, doesn't he?"

Tommy nods enthusiastically. "It's been a while, mommy. And they look awful full." You reach and pull your blouse to look at your own tits. "Hmmm, that they are, baby. Quite heavy, too. Would you like to help mommy? Just talking about it is making them start to leak." Tommy whimpers without shame, "Yes, mommy, please. Let me help you. I'll be good."

You unbutton your blouse, full tits on display. Puffy nipples singing their swan song. True to your word, milk is starting to bead around the areola. Tommy is practically drooling. "You're so pretty mama, can I please have some?" You watch him tremble in front of you, dying for a taste. You can't deny him, plus they are starting to ache with fullness. "Come here, baby, let mommy take care of her baby." You lean back and get comfortable as Tommy assumes his position in front of you.

You cradle him like you would an infant, nipple just ghosting against his lips. Milk is beginning to leak quicker now, painting his lips. "Go on, Tommy. Get your fill. Mommy's tits are so full, and just for you." Tommy attaches immediately, careful of his teeth. His pretty eyes close in ecstasy at the taste of your sweet milk on his tongue. "That's a good boy, don't waste a drop. Mommy's sweet milk makes it all better. Taking the pressure off mommy's tits so well, making her feel so good."

Each drag of Tommy's mouth is pulling on your clit, and you softly moan as your baby boy suckles. You can feel Tommy rut his hips against you, hard as a rock. "Easy baby, I have two, remember? Let's not neglect the other one." You pull one tit out and replace it with the other. "That's it. You almost sucked that one dry, didn't you? Good boy, Tommy. You know just what to do." The rutting continues as you praise him, knowing he needs it. A good boy needs to be told he's a good boy.

The moans and whimpers become louder as Tommy continues to nurse. The pleasure is overwhelming him, and you know that he will soon make a mess. "Oh, I know what that means. Is Mommy's baby feeling too good? Are you gonna make a big mess all over mommy?" Tommy just cries and nods, refusing to let go of your nipple. You undo his pants and pull him out. "Can't have you make a mess in your pants, baby. Keep suckling. Let mommy make it better."

You wrap a hand around his thick hard cock and begin to stroke. He's leaking as bad as your tits were, precum just coming out profusely. "Poor baby, let me make it all better, yeah? Does Mommy's titty baby need to come?" Tommy releases you to look at you with big black orbs for eyes. "P-P-p-pleaase mommy. It hurts so bad. I need you." With a few more tight strokes, Tommy loses it and comes all over your tummy and hand with a cry.

"There you go, baby. Let it out. Mommy's right here. Oh, look at all that mess, baby. I bet that felt so good." You coo at him as he comes down from his much deserved high. "Good job, Tommy baby. You deserved that, didn't you? You are such a good helper for mommy." Between the milk and the orgasm he is completely spent, boneless in your arms. "Awww, Titty baby is milk drunk, isn't he? Just how he should be."

You hold him as he dozes off, rocking your baby. Completely relaxed and dead to the real world, just as he should be. Just mommy and her baby.

#tommy shelby #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfiction

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pix-writes · 3 months ago

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Uhhhh Stan adopting a teenage runaway who came from an abusive home. (He sees a lot of his past self when he was homeless in them and vows to save them from the life he had)

This is kind of adjacent to an idea for a fic I've already had! But I couldn't resist doing a little bit about this scenario! <3

Stan has already basically adopted Wendy and Soos already, even without fully meaning to with Soos he sees that he needs a father figure in his life and sort-of does the best he can to be that. With Wendy, its different too because it's basically canon that he just lets her get away with stuff because he knows she needs somewhere away from home to relax (even tho he could definitely get another employee who doesn't bunk off so much). Will he admit that's what he's doing though? Of course not!

Despite his exterior/persona, though, Stanley Pines is a kind man who wants to help people who most need it - like you say, he's been in that position enough times himself. I'm sure there's been the occaisonal person who's helped him out in the past, even if they never stuck around. Well, now he's Mr Mystery, he can sort-of be that person for others, not just because he's more stable, but also because he desperatly wants connection, especially after losing his brother in the portal (though that's also a reason to keep everyone at arms length to an extent, so they can never find out about his double life).

Runaway teen & Stan pines (under cut):

I can imagine you ran away from home and come across Gravity Falls, perhaps you had even seen the ads for tourist stops in this area, or maybe you just found the most random small town on your travels and decided to stop there - your travels are erratic so that no one can follow you or suspect you of being a runaway. Not that you really expect your parents to be concerned, at least not for long. That's why you had to get away and stay gone, you had reached your breaking point for what you could handle.

It starts to rain, you go to the local diner but your travel money is fast becoming less and less... you only order coffee, nursing it there for as long as possible, but when business starts to pick up you realise just how small of a town it is, everyone seems to know nearly everybody around here! You've already gotten a few curious glances or greetings put your way and you decide to leave.

Wandering around, you end up on the outskirts of town, there's a fair few campsites around, now lying half empty since its off-season right now, maybe you coud stay on the edge of the forest somewhere? Pinch some tent equipment from somewhere or from someone who doesn't need it? You already had a sleeping bag, water bottle, a torch. You just needed something to keep more of the rain off of you!

That's when you wander into an opening within the forest, notice the wooden signs nailed to the trees. You see a small group of tourists being spoken to by some guy, his voice carrying across the place, gravelly and jovial, and in your surprise you just stare dumbfounded - this place isn't closed? The group is moving and you take in your surroundings and you're so cold and wet and hungry, you're not really thinking ahead when go in, pulling your hoodie down over your face and sneaking in beind the throng of people, unnoticed.

But it turns out that you had been noticed, after the bizarre tour of this overpriced tourist trap, you lurk behind, the rain hasn't let up outside and you're wondering when the place might close, now that the tourists had filtered out the place was pretty dead, which is when a large hand lands on your shoulder making you jump out of your skin and your eyes land on the proprietor.

"Hey! You gonna at least buy anything, kid?"

You apologise and stutter, feeling like you want to bolt but totally caught at the same time. Stan immediately picks up on the fact that you're so twitchy, even for a teen. He eases up on you, switching to a friendlier tone. Wendy asks you where you're staying, curiosity getting the better of her usually nonchalant demeanour. You tell them you just got lost from the campsite and Stan isn't buying it one bit but Wendy has given you the directions and you're out of the door. The interaction doesn't sit right with him. He knows exactly where you're hiding out by the time you've stayed there overnight. Having discovered the pop up tent you 'found' set up in the woods not far away.

He decides to keep an eye on you, he's worried being direct will make startle you, like a deer in headlights, at the diner he doesn't acknowledge you at first just pushes a plate of food subtly towards you, for you to swipe. After that he manages to make small talk, hes still wondering how he can help you, what excuse he can make so it seems like he's offering you something and it be believable instead of suspicious.

Maybe he complains there's no one around to do the stock take now that summer is well and truly over, you perk up, saying you'd like some extra pocket money. You come right on time and the owner of the Mystery Shack introduces himself properly, shows you what you need to do. You take your time, living rough has made you exhausted mentally/physically, and because... you've begun to like the place as kooky as it is. And wouldn't you know it, Mr Pines has made more food than he expected and wouldn't you like some? You come back the next day and its pretty much the same, though you are starting to pick up on where Stan is subtly gaining information on you. He both curses and admires how whip-smart you are, reminds him of himself a lot further into being homeless than you are (reminds him of someone else too...), he worries that night of whether you'll have run off, if you'd get into trouble somewhere else, but you return the following afternoon. This time, Stan levels with you -

"Look kid, I don't know what's going on at home and trust me when I say I get it - but whatever's going on, it's probably not worth staying out in the woods, epseically 'round here, it's dangerous!" He reassures you he's not going to call anyone, though, just asks you to reconsider, think about how much trouble you might get into, if you don't turn up to school how you're going to explain yourself, how are you going to get a job? You swipe frustrated tears from your eyes and thank him for being concerned, though its hollow. How can you return home now? All you're going to get is more abuse, you can only think of how angry they'll all be if you did!

You end up wandering to some other town, using the money Stan gave you to get a bus and find a place to stay, having seen a load of jobs you could apply for. Turns out though, that some of your family had been looking for you and tracked your phone, you end up in a fight with them, receiving a hard slap to the face before running away once more! You pack up your things and head straight to the first place you think of.

Once you get there, its dark, you hesitate before knocking but you've came all this way. When Stan opens the door all of the shock and adrenaline has seemed to have worn off and you see the mix of sadness, surprise and anger on his face at the clear mark on your face from the fight.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know where else to go." Is all you can get out before bursting into tears. He let's you stay, you've been out in the cold and so stressed over this time that when you come in you're shivering, you end up running a nasty fever. You're so exhausted there's nothing left but to accept your fate and Stan feels he must help you. He piles on the blankets and gives you hot drinks and plain food till the fever runs its course.

He still has a bit of trouble with authorities/some family members looking for you in the area, you traded your old phone in for another and Stan was eventually able to brush them off your trail. He couldn't help it, he liked the kid in the small amount of time he knew them and it was clear that you had danger waiting for you at home. You had told him a little after the first night you had stayed at the shack, words tumbling out of your mouth about your trauma, how you couldn't stand your family. His heart sank as he remembered his own life as a young man, a kid technically, homeless and making ends meet and was determined you wouldn't have the same fate. Yet he had to know you were sure.

"You really want to stay here - in this boring ol' town? At the shack?" You were determined you would, as long as he was okay with that, you vowed to work hard, sweep the floors, keep an eye on the gift shop when Wendy couldn't, anything to be useful. But, you didn't want him to get into trouble. Too little too late for that, he thought to himself.

"But, really do ya want to see this ugly mug every day?" He said gesturing to his face. That brought a slight smile to your face, in fact you ended up giggling and he knew he wouldn't be able to get rid of you now (like he ever would've entertained it).

He sighed. "So, do you trust me? Cause I need some kind of story if ya gonna stay here, kiddo."

He needed a lot more than that of course, he ended up getting you a fake ID and if anyone asked, you were family, here to stay for a while. When people asked anything more than that he got cagey, but he liked thinking of you being a Pines, another part of the family. Part of him felt guilty for doing it too, faking that you had the same last name, he still thought you might not want to stick around, you weren't blood family to him, you had no ties to him, but he wanted family so badly, was it so bad to pretend that you were?

He made sure you got to school, he even started to pack you lunches every day, he wasn't so bothered about homework, saying he didn't think much of school when he went anyway, you both had something more important than that (street smarts!), but when you were struggling with your math homework you were surprised that he semmed to know an awful lot, but then again you probably shouldn't be surprised, he did own a business after all. Whilst there wasn't a lot to do around the Mystery Shack all year round, you still found yourself picking up around the house part of the Shack, doing the laundry, washing the dishes, normal chore stuff - isn't that what teens were supposed to do? Stan was surprised to see a teen do chores unprompted and you were nervous that you'd done something wrong, because why else would he be questioning you? He recovered quickly though and just grumbled out something about 'finally, someone who knows how to pick up after themselves/work' but from the expression on his face, you are relieved to know that he is joking with you and he isn't mad. You're picking up on his quirks.

The months roll by and you started to feel safer, the shack became more familiar, you were less frightened and jumpy, people in town were more friendly, familiar faces and if people knew that you weren't actually related, that you were a runaway, they didn't say anything at all. You were starting to be referred to as 'Stan's kid'. No one had said so in front of Stan so far as you knew, it made you feel some residual guilt, even after all that you're family had done, were you really not a burden to Stan? Was it wrong to see him like a parent? What would you do if he no longer wanted you around? But as much as you were scared of being rejected, a situation came up at the Shack at the beginning of your first summer in the falls. A gathering was forming for a tour and some tourist had asked something or assumed he was your parent, something like that. Unbeknownst to you Stan had heard and he freezed, unconsciously waiting on your response.

"Oh, you'll wanna ask my dad, he's the one over there in the fez?" It just slipped out, you should've said Mr Mystery at work, but you couldn't help the feeling in your chest that it was right. Ever since then you had been tentatively saying it (you eventually start to notice how when you knew Stan had heard it he seemed a little emotional) and Stan now proudly referred to you as 'his kid'. You may or may not call him 'dad' to his face, maybe you'll still just call him 'Stan' but it seems like now you officially have a family!

#answered ask #anon ask #pix replies #stanley pines x reader #stan pines x you #stanley pines imagine #gravity falls imagine #platonic relationship #runaway teen reader #me: ok i'll write a little something about this #also me: writes a whole essay about this ask!#I just have a lot of feelings about stan :L #stan isn't who he says he is; updated to - stan and his child #as someone with a stepdad who I wished could've adopted me when I first met him this only feels right in my heart #found family my beloved #Wendy: did you just call Mr Pines dad?#Stan: do you see me as a father figure?#Reader rolling their eyes: no I see you as a bother figure! cuz ur always bothering me!#Soos: Dood show some respect to our dad - I mean your dad! :L #Stan wondering how he ended up adopting all these stray kids: I'd fire you all if I could ;w;

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