#he did what he needed to do and never came back again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

scriobh-an-iontas · 2 days ago

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The dream comes after a particularly bad day. Your children seem to be celebrating, or mourning, Aslan. It's a name you've heard them say, but you don't know who or what this Aslan is. Only that today is "his day". You want to hold them, to tell them that it's alright. You want them to fight like they did, to laugh and love like they did, like they did when the world made sense, and the sky didn't burn from war. You want to howl, to scream, to beg your children who are not children to be your children again. All these, and more, but you cannot. Something has taken this from them, from you, and it wasn't the war, no matter how much you tell yourself it was.

They whisper to each other on this day, and look at you like they've only just noticed you, really noticed you, for the first time since they got back from the country. You excuse yourself, unsure as to why you need to excuse yourself from your children in your own home, but you do, and you go to your bed, and you dream.

You dream of a vast garden, one full of trees with the ripest fruits, fruits you've never seen, but that you somehow know.

"Eat, Helen Pevensie, and be restored," says a deep voice.

You look up, and before you is a lion. Not a tame lion, though. Never a tame lion.

You know you should smell the sweetness of the fruit, but at that moment, you can only smell rot.

"I will not eat. You cannot give me a fruit and expect me to forget what you have stolen from me, child thief," you say. You don't know why you say it. That doesn't make it less true.

The lion ...

The lion diminishes, then looks away.

"They came of their own accord. Even if I had not called them here, if they had come under their own power, they would not have changed in their course, to come, and to stay. Their return was the only mercy I could offer," the lion says, as if that could change what he did.

"But you didn't return them!" you cry, months of sorrow bursting forward and striking the lion like a charger's lance. "You stripped them of who they were and who they had become and sent what was left to me! You broke them into pieces and sent those shards back after you had used them up, and call it a mercy? Jesus protect me from your cruelty!"

The lion winces, then speaks. "Will you walk with me?" the lion asks. "I wish to show you what they were called to protect."

You want to say no, but you think of your children, those strangers in your home, then steel yourself and walk towards, then next to, the lion.

You and the lion walk deeper into the garden, until you reach the ledge of a cliff. You know that it's high above the clouds, or it would be, on any other day. Today, though, the sight is clear.

Below is a beautiful country. Everything you could ever imagine to be a perfect land is here, you know it in your heart. The stories you told your children, when they were still your children, are alive here. Thriving. Happy. You know that if you went into that country, you'd see dryads, talking animals, tree-folk, magic.

"This place is not my country, not truly, but it is dear to me. It was trapped under the power of a terrible witch, until your children came, your sons of Adam and daughters of Eve. They destroyed the power of the witch, and freed it, and ruled it, ruled it well. They spoke of you, Helen Pevensie. They missed you."

You turn to face the lion. His eyes are wet with tears, as are yours.

"I am so sorry. If there had been another way, I would have taken it. There were none. So eat, Helen Pevensie, and be restored."

You take a final look at the land below, knowing somehow that you will never see it again, and go back into the garden. The lion follows you, saying nothing. You go from tree to tree, not sure what you are looking for, until suddenly you do. It looks a bit like an apple tree, and a bit like what toffee might look like if it was a fruit. Yet, in this garden, in this place, it is also moreso. It smells of home, and of here.

You take the fruit.

You eat it.

Each bite brings with it a memory of your children, as they were before they left, and as they are now, and of memories of them in this place. Not perfect visions, but living pictures, perhaps.

When you finish, you turn back to the lion.

"You aren't done with them yet, are you?" you say. It isn't a question, but neither is it an accusation.

"No," says the lion, his great shaggy mane tossing as he shakes his head. "But I will not again keep them away to myself, that I promise you. I will not say that they will return unchanged, but they will return in life and spirit as they left," says the lion.

You don't say thank you. That would be too much, and it would be a lie. The lion has taken so much already. This is the least he could do. But you nod, and you understand.

When you wake up, you feel refreshed, and restored.

When you walk down the stairs from your bedroom into the room your children are in, you feel, for a moment, as if you are their mother again.

You sit with them. You smile at your daughters, and at your sons. Then you speak.

"So. Tell me about Aslan."

They smile back at you, and they begin to chatter.

you have invited strangers into your home, helen pevensie, mother of four.

without the blurred sight of joy and relief, it has become impossible to ignore. all the love inside you cannot keep you from seeing the truth. your children are strangers to you. the country has seen them grow taller, your youngest daughter’s hair much longer than you would have it all years past. their hands have more strength in them, their voices ring with an odd lilt and their eyes—it has become hard to look at them straight on, hasn’t it? your children have changed, helen, and as much as you knew they would grow a little in the time away from you, your children have become strangers.

your youngest sings songs you do not know in a language that makes your chest twist in odd ways. you watch her dance in floating steps, bare feet barely touching the dewy grass. when you try and make her wear her sister’s old shoes—growing out of her own faster than you think she ought to—, she looks at you as though you are the child instead of her. her fingers brush leaves with tenderness, and you swear your daughter’s gentle hum makes the drooping plant stand taller than before. you follow her eager leaps to her siblings, her enthusiasm the only thing you still recognise from before the country. yet, she laughs strangely, no longer the giggling girl she used to be but free in a way you have never seen. her smile can drop so fast now, her now-old eyes can turn distant and glassy, and her tears, now rarer, are always silent. it scares you to wonder what robbed her of the heaving sobs a child ought to make use of in the face of upset.

your other daughter—older than your youngest yet still at an age that she cannot be anything but a child—smiles with all the knowledge in the world sitting in the corner of her mouth. her voice is even, without all traces of the desperate importance her peers carry still, that she used to fill her siblings’ ears with at all hours of the day. she folds her hands in her lap with patience and soothes the ache of war in your mind before you even realise she has started speaking. you watch her curl her hair with careful, steady fingers and a straight back, her words a melody as she tells your eldest which move to make without so much a glance at the board off to her right. she reads still, and what a relief you find this sliver of normalcy, even if she’s started taking notes in a shorthand you couldn’t even think to decipher. even if you feel her slipping away, now more like one of the young, confident women in town than a child desperately wishing for a mother’s approval.

your younger son reads plenty as well these days, and it fills you with pride. he is quiet now, sitting still when you find him bent over a book in the armchair of his father. he looks at you with eyes too knowing for a petulant child on the cusp of puberty, and no longer beats his fists against the furniture when one of his siblings dares approach him. he has settled, you realise one evening when you walk into the living room and find him writing in a looping script you don’t recognise, so different from the scratched signature he carved into the doors of your pantry barely a year ago. he speaks sense to your youngest and eldest, respects their contributions without jest. you watch your two middle children pass a book back and forth, each a pen in hand and sheets of paper bridging the gap between them, his face opening up with a smile rather than a scowl. it freezes you mid-step to find such simple joy in him. remember when you sent them away, helen, and how long it had been since he allowed you to see a smile then?

your eldest doesn’t sleep anymore. none of your children care much for bedtimes these days, but at least sleep still finds them. it’s not restful, you know it from the startled yelps that fill the house each night, but they sleep. your eldest makes sure of it. you have not slept through a night since the war began, so it’s easy to discover the way he wanders the halls like a ghost, silent and persistent in a duty he carries with pride. each door is opened, your children soothed before you can even think to make your own way to their beds. his voice sounds deeper than it used to, deeper still than you think possible for a child his age and size. then again, you are never sure if the notches on his door frame are an accurate way to measure whatever it is that makes you feel like your eldest has grown beyond your reach. you watch him open doors, soothe your children, spend his nights in the kitchen, his hands wrapped around a cup of tea with a weariness not even the war should bring to him, not after all the effort you put into keeping him safe.

your children mostly talk to each other now, in a whispered privacy you cannot hope to be a part of. their arms no longer fit around your waist. your daughters are wilder—even your older one, as she carries herself like royalty, has grown teeth too sharp for polite society— and they no longer lean into your hands. your sons are broad-shouldered even before their shirts start being too small again, filling up space you never thought was up for taking. your eldest doesn’t sleep, your middle children take notes when politicians speak on the wireless and shake their heads as though they know better, and your youngest sings for hours in your garden.

who are your children now, helen pevensie, and who pried their childhood out of your shaking hands?

#narnia #chronicles of narnia #lucy pevensie #susan pevensie #edmund pevensie #peter pevensie #tcon #narnia fic #helen pevensie #aslan #toffee tree

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wonderjanga · 2 days ago

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Billy’s Ideal Hero

Billy has had so so so many years to think about being the ideal hero. He’s finally come to the conclusion as to what being the ideal hero is.

It’s being super mysterious and suave. Mary thought him that last word.

Thankfully, he came to this conclusion before he started fully interacting with the public so no one needs to know about his normal, not hero-like self.

Billy didn’t realize how much of an impact this persona had on history and other heroes in general. The first time he found this out was, after the time bubble popped, when he was in DC because he needed to talk with some government people. On his way back to Fawcett, before he could leave the city, he spotted some kids bullying another, and he swiftly put a stop to it.

Marvel: *lands behind them with a smile* “I think it’d be wise for you boys to stop.”

Bullies: *turn and scream before running off*

Marvel: “Now then, are you alright?” *picks up some books on the ground*

Kid: *gobsmacked and takes the books back*

Marvel: *raises a brow but starts to float off the ground so he can fly off again*

Kid: “WAIT! WAIT! Are you the real deal?”

Marvel: “Yes? Why wouldn’t I be?”

Kid: “That’s… Awesome!”

The kid started yapping and yapping about something Billy didn’t entirely understand. The kid then shifted his books around so he could get to a history textbook.

Kid: *flips to a page* “This is you, right? You said this!” *shows it to Billy*

it was a black and white picture of him, making a speech in front of a crowd.

“It is a heroes job to protect anyone they can. Weak or strong, black or white, man or woman. It should not ever matter. If it does, you were simply never a hero in the first place.”

— Captain Marvel, circa 1949

It took every bone in Marvel’s body to not scrunch his face and look away and embarrassment because WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE’S IN THE TEXTBOOKS?! But alas, he has to remain that cool mysterious disposition.

The second time he realized the impact of this persona was when he was also in another city. Metropolis. See, he’d wanted to talk to this so called “Superman” but before he could, a giant foreign aircraft made itself known. Naturally, he went through the proper proceedings of telling the aircraft to leave and that it was in a foreign airspace. Instead of leaving it shot at him. None of its weird doohickies worked though. How humans have developed… Anyways, that ended up with him luring the ship to the middle of nowhere. After all, he would never fight it in a city. He’d have to be an idiot to do that.

He took care of the ship itself in a minute, his lightning frying it. Then he took care of the invaders inside. Turns out they were from a different planet. He took care of them in a couple minutes. In the end, he was covered in alien guts and picking it out of his suit and gloves.

After Marvel steps out of the ship…

Supes: *standing there confused as to why the aliens weren’t attacking and suddenly sees Marvel and stares*

Marvel: *stares back and stops picking alien intestine out of the hood of his cape* (idk I just like it whenever he has a hood on his cape. Think of the injustice version of him if you don’t know what I mean)

*silence*

Marvel: “I presume you’re Superman?” *steps forward, ignoring that he’s covered in blood because that wouldn’t be very mysterious or suave of him to acknowledge*

Supes: “Uh…” *looks behind Marvel and sees a bunch of dead aliens* “Yes?”

Marvel: “Wonderful!” *moves in front of Clark, takes off a glove (Yes he also wears gloves because I really like his injustice costume if you ignore all the black and replace it with either red or white) and holds out a hand for a shake* “It’s amazing to meet a new hero, let alone one from outside of Fawcett.”

Supes: “Really? It’s a pleasure to meet you too, sir.” *shakes his hand*

And it really was, even if Clark kept looking between Marvel and the aliens because he hadn’t heard a single sound of pain from the ship. That either meant Marvel did it quickly or he did it quietly. Clark wasn’t sure which was better. It was still a shock to see a revered hero, a hero Clark actually idolized, look like the person responsible for a massacre.

The two talked though and Clark wasn’t picking up any homicidalness so…? They actually managed to get smoothies after the Captain cleaned himself up with magic. Clark didn’t even know how they ended up in a smoothie joint. It’s just the other hero was so- so- so suave and mysterious. It reminded Clark a wee inseey weesy bit of Bruce. (Billy would internally cheer upon realizing that his persona was working) The other hero was also extremely easy to talk to and actually liked a lot of things Clark did, like reporting!

it almost made the kryptonian forget about the fact he was pretty sure the other man massacred a bunch of aliens. Almost. He brought it up to Batman immediately after their little little hangout session.

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics

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heartsriki · 3 days ago

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SOMEWHERE ALONG THE WAY ⌇ 우리를

pairing ᝰ ni-ki x fem!reader — featuring.. sunghoon | word count: 5.7k+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ childhood friends, tease ni-ki, middle school to highschool au, cussing, angst if you use a magnifying glass, fluff, kissing, underage drinking, miscommunication.

synopsis — Ever since middle school, Nishimura Riki has been an absolute pain. Now at your senior year of high school, things get complicated when confused feelings start to rise.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊I am here to represent the playful over nonchalant riki agenda 🤓☝️I wanted this to give shitty 2000's romance movie did I succeed? (this is so ass but I haven't posted a pic in a while so muah, creative fics coming soon trust)

If there was one universal truth in your life, it was this: you hated Nishimura Riki.

Childhood best friends? The kind you see in movies, laughing over dumb jokes, sharing secrets under a blanket fort, or being there for each other no matter what? Yeah, that wasn’t you and Riki. Not even close.

Your history with him began the summer before middle school, a day you remembered all too clearly.

“Who’s moving in, Mom?” you asked, watching the moving truck parked outside the empty house next door.

She glanced over as she set down a stack of plates. “A family with a boy about your age,” she replied, patting your head. “Maybe you’ll make a new friend! Why don’t you go say hi?”

You wrinkled your nose, stepping back from the window. “I wish it was a girl.”

Mom sighed and gave you that knowing look as she moved around the kitchen. “You never know. Your dad and I were childhood friends once.”

“Gross,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “That’s so weird.”

And just like that, you moved on with your life, assuming the new boy next door was unimportant. After all, families came and went in your neighborhood. You didn’t expect him to stick around—or to matter.

Oh, how wrong you were.

The first day of middle school was supposed to be a fresh start. You had plans. Big plans. Make friends, fit in, and survive until High School. And for a moment, it seemed like everything would go smoothly. Until him.

Lunch was going fine. You grabbed your tray, scanning the cafeteria for a place to sit when you collided with someone. Hard.

Your lunch went flying, splattering all over you, and in your panic, you looked up, ready to apologize. But then you noticed he was perfectly fine—completely untouched—like the universe had gone out of its way to humiliate only you.

You glanced at his name tag. Nishimura Riki.

He crouched to help, concern etched across his face. “Are you okay—”

Before he could finish, a blinding camera flash went off, followed by whispers and giggles erupting all around you. Mortified, you bolted to the nearest bathroom.

You thought that would be the end of it, but Riki wasn’t done ruining your life. Far from it.

In gym class? He always aimed for you during dodgeball. At lunch? He somehow snagged the last banana milk every time. Clubs? Teachers practically begged him to join while you couldn’t even get a recommendation. Worst of all, everyone adored him. Everyone but you.

By the end of your first year, Nishimura Riki was your sworn enemy.

And then things got… complicated.

It happened one evening while you were studying in your room. A soft knock at the door interrupted your focus.

“Come in,” you called, expecting your mom.

She stepped inside with two glasses of water. “Remember the tutoring favor I mentioned? My friend’s son is here in need of help, Be nice, okay?”

“Sure,” you replied, not thinking much of it.

But when the door creaked open again, you froze.

“Not who you were expecting?” Riki grinned, leaning casually against the doorframe.

You crossed your arms. “What are you doing here Riki?”

Riki winced. “Tutoring obviously, and could you please just call me ni-ki like everyone else?”

“You’re not coming in,” you snapped, blocking the doorway.

He sighed dramatically. “And what would I tell your mom?” He bent slightly to meet your glare, his grin widening when you finally moved aside.

“Fine. Sit down,” you muttered, plopping back at your desk.

For the next hour, you worked in tense silence. Or tried to, anyway. Riki kept fidgeting, pulling out a folded piece of paper halfway through.

“What’s that?” you asked, snatching it before he could stop you.

“Hey!” he yelped, scrambling to grab it back.

It didn’t take long to figure out what it was: another love letter. You rolled your eyes and tossed it back at him. “Veryyyy humble.”

“Not my fault I’m handsome, but it really is annoying though, I'm constantly surrounded… sometimes I feel like I'm drowning” he muttered, leaning back on his hands.

You were thrown off by his sincerity but you ignored him until he suddenly perked up as if struck by divine inspiration.

“Wait,” he said, sitting up straighter. “I have an idea.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s never good.”

“Let’s be friends, like attached to the hip friends.”

You blinked. “What?”

He grinned. “Think about it. You don’t have anyone covering your back at school, and I need someone to scare off all the girls who keep following me around. It’s perfect.”

You rolled your eyes. “Hard pass.”

“Come on, at least think about it!” he whined.

Unfortunately, he didn’t leave you much of a choice. Day by day, Riki wormed his way into your life, showing up at your house, sticking by you at school, and, somehow, turning everyone’s attention to you.

It was annoying. It was infuriating. But, worst of all? It worked.

Fast forward to your senior year of high school, and here you were—still stuck with Nishimura Riki. And somehow, despite your ups and downs, things weren’t going to be quite so simple anymore.

You were buried in your assignments, your usual library spot surrounded by a fortress of papers, highlighters, and books. It was your sanctuary, a place where Riki always knew he could find you.

He wasn’t alone when he spotted you this time. A couple of his friends hung around, laughing about something entirely unimportant in his mind the second his eyes landed on you. His grin stretched wide, and with an exaggerated sigh, he excused himself. The girls groaned, rolling their eyes at his now-predictable antics. “You’re obsessed, ni-ki,” one of them muttered, but he didn’t care.

Jogging up to your table, he glanced at your mess of notes and books. You didn’t even look up. Of course.

“What is it, Riki?” you murmured, still scribbling, your tone bored, uninterested—classic.

“Would it kill you to talk to me lovingly every once in a while, Y/N?” he mocked, flopping into the chair across from you. His eyes darted to the pile of folded papers shoved to the side, and his eyebrows shot up. “Oh? What’s this? Love letters? These for me again?”

You finally glanced up, leveling him with that deadpan expression he swore you saved just for him. “They’re definitely not mine,” you replied flatly.

He gasped, hand over his chest like you’d shot him. “Poor baby. Jealous much?” he teased, leaning forward on his elbows.

“Of you? Hardly.”

Riki narrowed his eyes at you, suddenly curious. Now that he thought about it, he’d never actually seen you with anyone—no rumors, no dates, no shy confessions. And while you always rolled your eyes whenever he brought up girls in front of you, you never chimed in about any guy in your life. Suspicious.

“Y/N,” he started, his tone a little too casual as he began doodling nonsense shapes on the table. “When was the last time you had a boyfriend?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Well, you remember Choi—”

“Choi Soobin? That lasted, what, a week?” he scoffed, leaning back in his chair with a smirk.

“And why do you think that is, genius?” you shot back, pointing your pencil at him accusingly.

Riki faltered for a split second before looking away. “Well… I think you can do so much better than him,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck.

Your brow shot up, amused. “Oh? Alright then, Mr. Matchmaker. Who’s my ‘better match,’ huh?”

His mouth opened, then shut. For once, he didn’t have a quick answer. He gulped, scrambling to save face. “How about I… set you up?”

You laughed, leaning back in your chair. “With one of your fuckboy friends? No thanks.”

“Hey! Not them!” he laughed, hands up in defense. “I meant someone like… Sunghoon.”

That made you pause. “Sunghoon? Like tall, calm, cool, and basically perfect Sunghoon? Yeah, right. He wouldn’t go on a date with me in a million years.”

“What? Says who?” Riki shot back, standing up like he’d just been challenged to a duel. “I’ll talk to him. Watch and learn, Y/N. Watch and learn.”

“Riki—”

“Later! Don’t miss me too much” He winked and walked off, leaving you to roll your eyes at his retreating figure, wondering if he’d actually follow through or if this was just another one of his ridiculous schemes.

“Y/N? I thought you guys were dating,” Sunghoon said, his brow furrowing in confusion as he leaned back against the locker.

Riki nearly choked on his water, his eyes going wide as he turned to face him. “What? No, Y/N is just a friend.” He laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a half-smile. “Oh. Huh. Well, I think I’m gonna pass anyway. She’s kind of… boring?”

The words hit Riki like a slap. His head snapped toward Sunghoon so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. “Boring?” he echoed, his voice sharp. “Says who?”

Sunghoon shrugged nonchalantly. “Everyone. I mean, I haven’t seen her at a single party or game, not even during lunch. What would we even talk about?”

Riki scoffed, crossing his arms as he glared at him. “Y/N is plenty of fun, asshole. What do you even know?” His voice was defensive, almost protective, and it surprised even himself.

Sunghoon tilted his head, studying Riki’s reaction. “I mean, she seems… quiet,” he admitted. “But now that I think about it, if you’re the one setting me up with her, she’s probably pretty great. You don’t exactly play matchmaker for just anyone.”

Riki blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “Uh… well, yeah, she is great,” he muttered, not meeting Sunghoon’s eyes.

Sunghoon grinned. “You know what? Why not? She’s cute.”

Riki froze. His grip tightened on the strap of his backpack, and for a split second, he wasn’t sure why his stomach twisted at Sunghoon’s words. Calling you cute? Of course, you were cute. He’d always known that. So why did it sound weird coming from someone else?

He quickly shook off the strange feeling, chalking it up to his usual overprotectiveness. “Alright,” he said, his voice coming out more clipped than he intended. “But don’t do anything weird. Seriously.”

Sunghoon laughed, pushing off the locker. “Weird? Relax, I’ll be a gentleman. So, you gonna tell her, or should I?”

Riki sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll tell her. Just… don’t mess this up, alright?”

Sunghoon smirked as he walked away. “I won’t. But, man, you’re acting real possessive for ‘just a friend,’ don’t you think?”

Riki didn’t respond, watching as Sunghoon disappeared down the hall. The words hung heavy in the air, and for the first time, he wondered if maybe—just maybe—he was more than just “overprotective” when it came to you.

Today, you felt a kind of giddiness you hadn’t experienced in a while. After weeks of drowning in study sessions, late-night cramming for club responsibilities, and endless schoolwork, you were finally doing something for yourself. And to top it all off, you weren’t just going out—you were going out with a boy.

It had been forever since you’d made this much effort. You dolled yourself up, not too over the top, but more than your usual routine. Casual but undeniably cute. You felt like a new version of yourself, and it was exciting.

Standing in front of your mirror, you hummed along to the music playing softly in the background, carefully adjusting your hair. You tilted your head, giving yourself one last once-over with a satisfied grin when there was a knock on your door.

“Y/N, I’m coming in,” came the familiar voice.

Before you could even respond, the door creaked open, and Riki stepped inside. His usual easy-going demeanor faltered the second he saw you. The air felt heavy, and his eyes widened as if he’d been caught off guard.

For a moment, he just stared, the words dying in his throat. Why were you so dressed up? He’d seen you a thousand times, but never like this. Something about the way your hair framed your face, the slight gloss on your lips, and the way your outfit hugged your figure—it was like he was seeing you for the first time.

Were you always this pretty?

“Is he on his way? What kind of car does he drive?” you asked, practically buzzing with excitement.

Your voice snapped him out of whatever trance he was in, and he blinked, his expression hardening as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Uh… yeah, he’s almost here,” he muttered, his tone uncharacteristically stiff.

The doorbell rang, and your face lit up instantly. Clapping your hands together, you grabbed your bag and checked your outfit one last time. You turned to him, your eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Not too bad, right? Think he’ll like it?”

Riki froze again. The words caught in his throat, and for a second, he thought about telling you the truth. That you looked beautiful. That the thought of you being this excited about someone else was bothering him more than it should.

But instead, his pride got the better of him. “I—well—you look stupid,” he blurted out, his words harsher than he intended.

You rolled your eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Say whatever you want, Riki. Your opinion doesn’t matter tonight. I’ll text you the details tomorrow!”

And just like that, you were gone, your scent lingering in the room as you hurried past him and out the door.

Riki stood there, staring at the space you’d just left. His chest felt tight, an unfamiliar weight settling there as he replayed the moment in his head. What was this feeling? Why was his stomach twisting uncomfortably at the thought of you with someone else?

He swallowed hard, running a hand through his hair as he sat on your bed, shoulders slumping. Something was changing—something he wasn’t sure he was ready to admit yet. But as he sat there, his chest aching and his mind racing, one thing was becoming painfully clear.

He didn’t want to be the one you texted tomorrow to tell all the details about tonight. He wanted to be the one sitting across from you, the one you were so excited to see. And that realization scared him more than anything.

The next week was nothing short of torture for Riki. As if fate was playing a cruel joke, you and Sunghoon seemed to hit it off. You weren’t officially dating, but the two of you were in the so-called “talking stage.” It didn’t matter what stage it was—every second of it felt wrong to Riki.

Your usual library spot? You weren’t alone anymore. Sunghoon was always there, sitting across from you, leaning in too close, making you laugh in ways that Riki used to. Your desk? It was now stocked with your favorite snacks every morning—snacks that weren’t from Riki. And the final blow? You called Sunghoon by his nickname. His nickname. Riki clenched his fists every time he overheard it because not once in all the years he’d known you had you ever called him by a nickname.

What did Sunghoon have that Riki didn’t? He left snacks, visited you in the library, and called you nicknames. Riki did all of that first. So why wasn’t it enough?

For the first time, Riki felt you slipping away. And for the first time, he realized just how much you meant to him. But instead of confronting those feelings, he did what he always did best—he buried them.

The dismissal bell rang, and the school flooded with students rushing to leave. You were taking your time, slowly packing up while your music played softly in your headphones. A tap on your shoulder startled you, making you jump.

“Hey, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you,” Sunghoon said with an easy laugh.

You laughed back, pushing him playfully. “It’s fine. Yeah, I’m ready to go, but we should wait for Riki. He might need a ride home.”

Sunghoon’s brow furrowed, confused. “ni-ki? I thought he went on that date.”

Your hands paused mid-motion. “What?”

“Yeah, didn’t he tell you? He’s been talking about it all day.” Sunghoon said it so casually, but his words felt like a punch to your chest.

No. Riki hadn’t told you anything. And now that you thought about it, he’d been distant recently, skipping out on plans and barely texting back. But to go on a date and not even mention it? That wasn’t like him at all. A strange feeling bubbled in your chest—was it anxiety or something else entirely?

“Oh. I guess we should just go then,” you murmured, brushing past Sunghoon, who quickly followed after you.

It stayed like that for weeks. Riki kept avoiding you, making himself scarce. He didn’t leave snacks on your desk anymore, didn’t visit you in the library, and the only time you caught glimpses of him was when he was with her. That girl in his friend group—except now, his arm was around her shoulder.

Something about seeing them together twisted your stomach into knots. You couldn’t figure out what was going on. The absence of Nishimura Riki was a void you weren’t coping with well. You missed his annoying presence, his whining, his endless teasing. When had he become so important to you? And more importantly, why did it hurt so much to see him with someone else?

Days passed, your short fling with Sunghoon had come to an end. You and Sunghoon realized you weren’t a good match. It wasn’t dramatic; the spark just wasn’t there. You were relieved to have gained a friend, but even that small resolution didn’t fill the aching gap that Riki had left behind.

One day, as you trudged toward class, your thoughts heavy, you spotted him. For a moment, everything else faded. His uniform was crisp for once, his hair falling perfectly across his forehead, and his headphones hung loosely around his neck. You felt your heart skip, a familiar warmth creeping in. But then you saw her—the girl. She was right next to him, laughing as she leaned closer.

Riki caught your eyes, and for a moment, you swore you saw something flicker in his expression. But then he looked away, a fake smile plastered back on his face, and it felt like someone had ripped the air out of your lungs.

You couldn’t take it anymore. The sudden, painful realization hit you like a truck—you had fallen for Nishimura Riki. The cocky, annoying, rude, childish Riki. And you had realized it far too late.

Fueled by a sense of urgency, you stormed over to him. The closer you got, the more his eyes widened. His body tensed, his jaw clenching as if he knew what was coming.

“Riki, I need to talk to you,” you said, your voice trembling slightly.

He scoffed, avoiding your gaze as he shifted awkwardly. “What could we possibly need to talk about?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Oh, I don’t know. How about the fact that you’ve been ignoring me for weeks? How about the fact that you’ve completely shut me out?”

He let out a bitter laugh, his eyes now locking with yours. “Me? Ignoring you? Don’t make me laugh. Weren’t you the one who ditched me first? The second Sunghoon gave you a little attention, you were all over him like he was your whole world.”

You flinched at the venom in his words. “What are you even talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb!” he snapped, his voice rising. “You’ve been desperate for attention since day one. The moment someone else gave it to you, you didn’t even think twice about ditching me.”

The words stung more than you thought possible, and tears welled in your eyes. “Is that how you really see me? Someone who just begs for love and clings to anyone willing to give it? Or is that what you wanted me to be? Someone who would never leave you, so you could string me along whenever you wanted? Like you always have?”

His eyes softened, regret flickering through them, but before he could respond, the girl at his side stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm.

“Alright ni-ki.. I get it now.” You took that as your cue. Turning on your heel, you walked away without looking back, tears blurring your vision.

He gulped as he watched you walk away, Itching to chase after you. He never thought the loss of his first name coming from your lips would hurt this much. But it did.

For the nights after that, sleep was impossible. You lay there staring at the ceiling, replaying the confrontation with Riki over and over in your head. His words, his tone, the hurt that lingered in his eyes despite the venom in his voice—it was all too much. The raw pain left a lump in your throat, and the longer you thought about it, the more your chest ached.

You didn’t know how to move past it. Slowly, you started closing yourself off. The window you always left unlocked for Riki to climb through at night? It was shut now, the latch sealed as if closing it would somehow lock away the memories too.

Everything was weighing on you, dragging you deeper into a pit of emotions you couldn’t escape from. You needed something—anything to distract yourself. That’s when you remembered Sunghoon’s message from earlier.

Sunghoon:

Hey I know parties aren’t really your thing, but you can always come and stick with me tonight if you want? LMK.

You sighed, staring at the screen for what felt like forever before finally making a decision. Maybe this was what you needed, a change of scenery, a chance to forget for just one night. Without overthinking, you hit the call button.

He answered almost immediately, his voice casual but with a hint of surprise. “Hey, Y/N, what’s up?”

“Hey, Hoon,” you said, your voice soft but steady. “I’ll be on my way soon.”

When you arrived at the party, the air was buzzing with energy. Music thumped loudly in the background, lights flickered through the windows, and the yard was packed with groups of people chatting and laughing. You felt a pang of anxiety as you stepped inside, but it was quickly drowned out when Sunghoon spotted you from across the room.

“Y/N!” he called, weaving through the crowd with a grin. “You made it.”

You nodded, offering him a small smile. “Yeah, I thought I’d give it a shot.”

“I’m glad you came,” he said, resting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to some people, and we can hang out.”

He led you through the party, his presence grounding you as you met new faces and settled into the environment. For the first time in what felt like weeks, you felt yourself relaxing. Laughing. Forgetting.

But that peace was short-lived.

Halfway through the night, as you stood by the kitchen with Sunghoon, sipping on a red solo cup which he’d handed you, your eyes landed on someone you weren’t prepared to see. Riki.

He was standing on the far side of the room, a red Solo cup in hand, his face half-hidden by the shadowy lighting. But it was unmistakably him. His posture was relaxed, but he wasn’t speaking as his group of friends talked. You looked around for the girl he grasped onto recently but she was nowhere in sight.

Your chest tightened, and it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. For a moment, all the progress you’d made to distract yourself unraveled. You tried to look away, but it was like your eyes were glued to him.

Sunghoon noticed immediately. “Hey,” he said gently, stepping in front of you to block your view. “You okay?”

You blinked, forcing yourself to focus on him. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

But you weren’t fine. Not at all.

Riki hadn’t noticed you at first, too caught up in the chaos of the party. But when he finally glanced toward the kitchen, his heart stopped. There you were, standing next to Sunghoon, looking beautiful in a way that made his chest ache.

His grip on his cup tightened as he watched Sunghoon lean closer, whispering something that made you laugh softly. That laugh. The one he hadn’t heard in weeks. It was his laugh, the one you used to share with him.

“ni-ki,” a girl next to him said, tugging on his sleeve to grab his attention. But he barely heard her, his focus still glued to you.

“Excuse me for a second,” he mumbled, setting his cup down and stepping away from his group. He didn’t even know what he was doing. His feet carried him across the room before his brain had the chance to catch up.

You saw him coming before he even reached you. The sight of him walking toward you, his expression unreadable, made your stomach twist. Sunghoon glanced over his shoulder and immediately stiffened.

“Y/N,” Riki said, his voice low but firm as he stopped in front of you. His gaze flickered to Sunghoon briefly before settling back on you. “Can we talk?”

You hesitated, your walls immediately going up. “What is there to talk about, ni-ki?”

“Please,” he said, his tone softer now, almost desperate wincing at the way you spit his nickname.

Sunghoon stepped closer, his presence protective. “Maybe now isn’t the time, Riki.”

Riki’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t back down. “I wasn’t asking you, Sunghoon.”

Your heart was racing, caught between the two of them. The tension in the air was suffocating, and you didn’t know what to do.

“I’ll give you guys a minute,” Sunghoon finally said, his voice steady but his eyes lingering on you for reassurance before he walked off.

Riki took a step closer, his hands buried in his pockets as he looked at you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “For everything.”

You swallowed hard, your emotions a whirlwind. “I don’t even know what to say to you right now.”

“Then don’t say anything,” he said quickly. “Just… listen. Please.”

And so, for the first time in weeks, you let him talk.

He led you up the stairs, weaving through the chaos of the party. The bass of the music faded the further you went, replaced by the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. He stopped in front of an empty room, pushing the door open and letting you step inside first. The room was dim, lit only by the moonlight streaming through the window. When he followed, the soft click of the door shutting behind him felt heavier than it should have.

You turned to face him, crossing your arms defensively. Your guard was up, and he could see it all over your face—your hurt, your anger, your confusion. He hated that he was the one who put that look in your eyes. How had things gotten so messed up? It reminded him of when you were younger, back in middle school, when he could never find the right words to say to you. But this time, it felt like so much more was at stake.

“Y/N…” His voice was quiet, laced with hesitation, his dark eyes glowing softly under the light. “I haven’t been real with you lately.”

You didn’t say anything, your glare sharp enough to cut through him.

“To be honest…” He froze, the words catching in his throat as his face heated up. He looked down, running a hand through his hair as if it would steady him. “Well, I’ve realized that you mean… a lot more to me than I thought.”

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat, but your defenses didn’t falter. “What are you trying to say?”

He sighed, taking a tentative step closer. “I’m saying I screwed up, okay? I’ve been jealous, selfish, and downright stupid. Seeing you with Sunghoon, thinking I might lose you… it made me realize something.”

You raised an eyebrow, waiting, your breath catching as he took another step closer.

“I like you, Y/N,” he admitted, his voice cracking slightly under the weight of his confession. “No, scratch that—I’m in love with you. I think I’ve been in love with you for a while now, but I was too dumb to figure it out until I almost lost you.”

Your heart was pounding, the walls you’d built around yourself threatening to crumble. His words felt like a punch to the gut, but in the best way possible.

“Why now?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Why did it take all of this for you to say something?”

“I was scared,” he admitted, his tone filled with regret. “Scared of ruining what we already had. But when I saw you with him, I realized I couldn’t just stand by and lose you. I’m sorry, Y/N. For everything. I just… I need you to know how I feel.”

You stared at him, your emotions a whirlwind. Part of you wanted to stay mad, to keep your guard up and protect yourself. But the other part—the part that had always been soft for him—wanted to believe every word he was saying.

“Riki,” you started, your voice trembling. “You really hurt me, you know that, right?”

He nodded, guilt washing over his face. “I know, and I’ll spend however long it takes making it up to you pretty. I swear.”

There was a long silence as you studied him, searching his face for any sign that he wasn’t being genuine. But all you saw was raw vulnerability.

Finally, you sighed, stepping closer to him. “You’re such an idiot,” you muttered, but there was no malice in your voice.

He smiled softly, a flicker of hope lighting up his eyes. “I’ve been told.”

Before you could second-guess yourself, you reached up, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him closer. His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t hesitate. His hands found your waist as you stood on your toes, and then, without another word, you kissed him.

It was soft at first, tentative, like the two of you were still testing the waters. But as the moment deepened, all the tension, all the weeks of hurt and miscommunication melted away. His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you closer, and you let yourself fall into him completely.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads rested against each other, both of you breathless. He smiled at you, his usual cocky grin softened by the tenderness in his eyes.

“Does this mean you forgive me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Don’t push your luck.”

He laughed, the sound light and carefree, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like everything was going to be okay.

BONUS 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Riki had known you since middle school. Back then, you were the girl who sat by the window during lunch, scribbling in your notebook or reading while everyone else was too busy trying to be cool. You were quiet but quick-witted, and for some reason, that always fascinated him.

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he started noticing you more. Maybe it was the time you helped him with a history project because he procrastinated and would’ve failed without you, Maybe… It was the day you both ran into each other. Literally.

He hated admitting it, but he always found himself drawn to you. You weren’t flashy or loud like the other people in his life. You were just you—calm, focused, and, most of all, real.

But middle school Riki wasn’t great at handling feelings. Instead of being sweet to you, he’d tease you mercilessly, always looking for a reaction. He loved how your face would scrunch up when you were annoyed or how you’d mutter sarcastic comebacks under your breath, pretending you weren’t affected.

Even then, he knew you were different. Special. But he never let himself think too much about it.

As the years passed, his feelings only grew, even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself. By the time high school rolled around, you were still his constant. The one person he could always count on, the one who somehow understood him without needing a million words.

But somewhere along the way, he’d started feeling something heavier whenever he saw you. When you smiled at him, it felt like a spark ignited in his chest. When you scolded him for slacking off, he’d secretly enjoy the attention. And when you laughed—God, when you laughed—he swore it was his favorite sound in the world.

Still, he buried those feelings deep. He figured it was better to keep things the way they were. If he said something and you didn’t feel the same, he could lose you entirely, and the thought of that terrified him.

Then Sunghoon came into the picture. And for the first time, he realized he wasn’t the only one who could see how amazing you were. Watching you smile at someone else, laugh at someone else’s jokes, give someone else the attention that used to be his—it tore him apart. He felt like he was suffocating, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

Even now, standing in that room with you after finally confessing everything, he couldn’t help but think back to all those moments from middle school. How blind had he been? How stupid to waste so much time pretending he didn’t care?

Looking at you now, your cheeks flushed, your eyes searching his face like you were trying to figure him out, he realized he didn’t want to hold back anymore.

He smiled, soft and genuine, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You know,” he said, his voice low, “I think I’ve been falling for you since middle school. I just didn’t know how to say it back then. Guess I’m still figuring it out now.”

You blinked at him, stunned for a moment, before a small laugh escaped your lips. “You’ve been a mess since middle school, Riki.”

“Yeah,” he said, his grin growing wider. “But I’m your mess now.”

And with that, he kissed you again, pouring years of unspoken feelings into the moment, knowing he’d finally found where he belonged—right there, with you.

#enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fic #fanfic #fluff fic #enhypen angst #enhypen niki #ni ki enhypen #ni ki x reader #ni ki fluff #nishimura riki #niki x reader #ni ki

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deansapplepie · 3 days ago

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Use your hands

Summary: Javier can’t resist your manicured nails.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Warnings: Javier Peña, NSFW, smut, making out, handjob, male masturbation, nails kink (?), hand kink, needy Javier, maybe subbish vibes from Javi (but not really), spit, pet names in spanish all around, oral male receiving (kinda). Minors do not interact, 18+.

A/N: sorry not sorry, Pedro liking manicured nails gave me ideas.

Main Masterlist

Javier Peña Masterlist

Javier and you had agreed to go for dinner with Steve and Connie. You agreed to meet after work, but Javi didn’t know about your evil plan. To be honest you hadn’t even planned it this time, it happened innocently. You went to the Beauty Salon earlier that day to do your hair and nails to go on this double date without thinking much about it. You chose your favorite color which happened to be his favorite color on you, but you swore it wasn’t on purpose.

When Javier and Steve arrived you were already sat by the table having a conversation with Connie about daily life. He came to you and kissed your temple. “Hola, corazón. How was your day?” He asked as he sat by your side and took your hand in his. Before you could answer he was talking again as soon as his eyes met your beautiful hands and done nails. “You had your nails done. This color suits you so well…”

“Did you like it? I really didn’t think much about it.” You shrugged. Whoever listened to your conversation would see it as an innocent one between husband and wife, but you knew better than this. You knew something had shifted in there.

“It’s beautiful, mi amor.” He kissed your hand, his warm breath and lips imprinting in the back of your hand.

During the whole dinner, Javier couldn’t just sit still. He was restless and the fault was on you and your pretty hands. Because of that, once you stepped home and he closed the door, he got you pressed against it and his lips on yours. “Why did you do that, nena?” He asked his lips hovering yours.

“What? I did nothing.” You answered breathlessly.

“You know what. Painting your nails so pretty and the color you know I like on you.” He pecked your lips, peppered your jaw… “You’re such a tease, it can’t go like this…”

“What are you going to do to me?”

He laughed dryly. “Me? Cariño, I’m doing nothing. You’re going to work to pay for this.” He pressed his bulge against you, impossibly hard, just waiting the whole night to be relieved by you.

He picked you on his arms and sat on the couch, you straddling him. He kissed you one more time, he could never get enough of you, but he had urgent matters at hand. Or better speaking at your hands. He stopped the kiss, you almost whined at the loss. “You know what to do, amor. Use your hands.”

Your hands traveled from his face down his neck and shoulders. You stopped when your hands reached his chest, your delicate fingers working on the buttons of his shirt, you needed to see your man’s torso. “That’s not the place I want your hands on, corazón.”

“A girl can indulge herself, can’t she?” You replied as you opened his shirt completely exposing his chest, your hands tentatively reaching his pants. You slipped your hand on top of his crotch making him hiss. He was so hard, he was probably in suffering. “Don’t worry, cielo. I’m taking care of you.” You said, the spanish endearment word rolling easily from your lips after all those years of marriage.

You unbuckled his belt skillfully and following it you unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, sliding it and his briefs together down his legs. He sprung against his abdomen proudly standing. So pretty and tempting, you really want to shove it inside your mouth and savor it.

Your hands gripped it delicately, but for Javi it felt so intense he groaned and had to hold himself to not start bucking his hips against your hands. Your delicate fingers around him and the colors of your nails contrasting to his skin made the act look so glorious that he was ashamed to say he could cum just with the sight. You moved your hand along his shaft till you reached the tip, red, angry, asking to be ravished. You smeared some pre cum that was already leaking but you’d need more. You looked up at Javier and expectation covered his face.

You started opening your mouth and before you could do anything he spoke. “Don’t use your mouth, nena. Only your hands.”

“Tempting, but I wasn’t.” You replied and once again opened your mouth letting spit fall from it and hit his rocking hard cock.

“Fuck…” he groaned. “Bebé, you’re gonna kill me.”

You smirked. He was going to live, he never died of it. Your spit ran down his length in a very slow pace. With your delicate manicured hands you ran his length up and down spreading the humidity along him, making your job easier. One hand was never enough, you always needed both to pleasure him.

Rhythmically you moved your hands up and down while he observed you working on him, sometimes you went slower, others faster and from time to time you gave some attention that the head and also to his balls. “Do you like it, babe?” You asked, your hands torturing him in a teasing pace.

His hips bucked against your hands, his cock moving on its own in your fists. “I love it.”, he practically whined. Your hands felt so good around him, you already knew him so well… you were the only one that could make him feel this good. He had one addiction and it was you, he could never get tire. “Faster, amor. Faster.” He begged.

You’d do anything for him. You increased your pace, your hands frantically moving around him. His pre cum leaked some more helping on the process, and you ads spit to it other times although you’d rather have it inside your mouth. As if the gods had listened to your prayers, Javier spoke. “Nena, open your mouth. I wanna cum in your mouth.”

Eagerly you opened your mouth taking him inside, the warmth of your cave welcomed him so well. If he could chose, he’d like to die like this. Inside you or in this case inside your mouth. He was holding a little letting you have some fun, he knew how you enjoyed going down on him, sucking his tip as if it was a sweet succulent fruit just to little by little take his length on your mouth, your plush lips looking so pretty around him while your hands hold his base and his balls, sometimes his thighs. The way your eyes would fill with tears when he hit the back of your throat…

He started twitching inside your mouth, his groans increasing, he was so damn close! Some ministrations from you and trusting from his hips and he was coming down your throat while you made sure nothing was wasted.

As he descended from his high, he brought you back to his lap, tangling his fingers in your hair and kissing you passionately. “Te amo, mi Reina.” He said with devotion, his forehead against yours, like he had done many times before, and you would never get tired of listening to it.

“I love you too, mi vida.” You replied as always.

#javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña narcos #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #deanspplepie

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sophism84 · 2 days ago

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Don’t be mad but I feel so horrible but I hate my parents my dad is evil. I HATE THEM I HATE THEM!!! My mom after Aaron had twisted my arm behind my back and told me I was staying with him they both held my hand on either side of me. I felt so trapped I didn’t know how with both of them I would ever be free. That’s like tryin to ask which hell is worse? I have to support both of them and they just tell me how crazy I am one beats me one shoves pills down my throat and takes me to the mental hospital all the time.

Yeah you came home and we had knives ready I was ready for you to come home.

but you told them I was crazy and took me to the mental hospital I the lasy told me the only reason I kept my kids was because of you. I was trying to get us away from all of you. But I had to financially support you.

You trained this into me. You threw cold water on me, laughed at my pain, abused us all. Did we really need all that cough medicine? Or did you just keep us dosed up??

Huh??

What kid chooses their nightly cough syrup?

You told me my rape was my fault. You blamed me for my own abuse. You kept me being abused. You kept us being abused. Aaron drugged and raped me. Beat me w my baby in my arms, and hold twist my leg and the laugh when I would cry in pain.

I wish I fought back harder. I wish I had been stronger than him and not paralyzed in fear. And even when I did cal the police about being pregnant and assaulted they didn’t arrest him! They never arrested him!

Top security clearance?? Why would you ever trust such a man???

They don’t deserve to walk the earth.

I’m so sorry I let them beat me down over time. And isolate me from everyone that actually loved me.

I’m sorry I wasn’t better. I’m sorry.

I was afraid for you when I was showing up everyday. I was worrried. I called everyday they just told me to eat but how do you eat when you’re worrreid?

I needed to get them away from him.

But I’m just always crazy. Or paralyzed w fear. I was so weak.

I’m so sorry I didn’t do better. I should’ve just killed them when I had the chance. I held a knife to my mom’s neck when I was little but I couldn’t do it. I chickened out. I wanted my mom to love me. Why? Was she like this?

Your greatest influences are those that are closest to you.

I hate you all! You lied to me. Told me I was crazy. Shoved pills down my throat and stole my diaries. I lost myself. Because I had to return to what broke me the first time.

You’re all just evil I hate you

I hate Aaron’s parents too. You made him into what he was and paraded me around your living room. Well you sure tore me down the first chance you got! I wish I could scream and you would all cease to exist! I hate you forever and always don’t forget that!

I will not defend you or help you or ever see you ever again unless I’m dragging your body into a fire. Where you belong

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secretlysamcro · 2 days ago

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Black female reader x Jax teller PLOT SPOILERS! smut, explicit language & violence If you're under the age of 18. haven't finished the show or dislike any of said topics, please read no further.

Request: Jax x black reader where reader is his old lady and deals with imas or Tara’s jealously/flirty comments and puts her in her place by beating the shit out of her in front of the club and Jax supports her control over lady’s business and ends with smut or not

Backstory: Jax Teller had always been a man of fleeting connections. Casual hookups and one night stands, that is until y/n came into his life. She was the little sister of T.O, the former Grim Bastards president, now turned SAMCRO. It wasn’t long before y/n became known as Jax’s old lady. Jax and Ima had a brief history. Meaningless encounters that were more convenience than connection. Even with y/n in the picture, she continues to flirt and beg for Jax’s attention, being the trifling whore that she is.

Jax strolls over from his bike as he began to approach the bar which was once the heart of the Lodi chapter of the Grim Bastards. With the former president T.O now a member of SAMCRO, an agreement has been made. The bar was now going to be used as a front, a place to launder any dirty money rolling in from future SAMCRO dealings.

“You lost, white boy?” T.O calls out to Jax as he strides down the side path of the bar. He lets out a laugh, Jax joining in. They pull each other into a tight embrace, Jax taking a moment to look T.O up and down, his gaze fixated on the new kutte he now wears.

“Looks good on you, brother” he says, a sense of pride from within, he’s proud to now call T.O a member of SAMCRO. The Grim Bastards had always been there when needed. Having their backs in ways that other clubs never did, their loyalty running deep, proving time and time again that they could be trusted when it mattered the most.

They step into the bar, Jax noticing a few familiar faces amongst the sparse crowd. Even the faces he doesn’t recognise, seem to know who he is, their respect clear in the way that they acknowledge him. As Jax continues to scan the room, he notices the GB memorabilia being taken down from the walls and carefully packed into boxes.

“What’s happening with all the old club stuff?” Jax questions, leaning against the bar beside T.O, he takes in the scene with a sigh.

“Sending it to the South Gate charter” T.O replies, slipping off his signature black shades and setting them on the bar “I'm sure them mother fuckers’ can find somethin’ to do with it all”.

They continue their conversation, discussing the future of the club, T.O’s new role within SAMCRO and the logistics of setting up the bar. They talk through how things will work and how they’ll manage everything moving forward. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Jax notices you.

You walk towards them, your knotless braids moving softly with each step. Jax’s gaze is immediately locked onto you. The lights above catching your perfectly lined lips, brown liner paired with a slick of clear gloss - chef’s kiss. The sound of your knee high boots grow louder, drawing T.O’s attention. He glances over, following Jax’s stare. The moment he clocks its you his jaw tightens, he turns back just as quickly. “off limits” he mumbles under his breath with an eyebrow raised, almost as if he could read Jax’s mind.

“Where the fuck you goin’ dressed like a ten dollar hooker?” T.O snaps, his eyes narrowing at the little black dress hugging your curves and your long leather jacket draped over your arms. “Fuck you, bald ass” you fire back with an unapologetic smile.

Jax leans back, arms crossed, holding back a laugh as he watches the interaction unfold. his curiosity getting the better of him as he tries to piece together the dynamic between the both of you.

You move around the bar, pouring yourself a drink without any hesitation. Jax cant help but notice how comfortable you seem, though inside your heart is racing. The man sitting with your brother is so damn fine its almost infuriating.

“You know you gone’ pay for that right?” T.O mutters, keeping a close eye on you.

“Put it on my tab” Jax cuts in smoothly, a grin tugging at his face as his eyes linger on you just a little too long, ignoring T.O’s first warning.

“Jax Teller” he says, extending his hand, the playful smirk never leaving his face as he eye fucks you just a little. No introduction was needed from him. You already knew who he was, even if he didn’t know you.

You place your hand in his, the slight squeeze of his grip sending a wave of tension between the two of you. Both of you have rings decorating your fingers, the soft clink of the metals meeting each other breaks the silence between the locked stares.

“y/n” you reply, maintaining the eye contact without faltering. “so... you're my brothers new boss?” you ask, a slight teasing in your tone as you throw a look towards T.O.

“Brother?” Jax repeats, his brow raised slightly, now understanding why you were off limits.

“Yeah, this my little sister” T.O confirms, giving Jax a stern look, that says everything without even saying a word.

It was the night of Jax’s birthday and despite his insistence that it wasn’t a big deal, his brothers couldn’t let the day go without a celebration. The SAMCRO clubhouse was alive, filled with laughter, music and conversation. Everyone affiliated with the club had shown up for the Presidents birthday, from patched members to close friends.

You were sat beside your brother at one of the central tables in the clubhouse. At the table with you were a few of the other patched members you had become more familiar with over time. Opie, Happy, Chibs and to your left, was Lyla. She was Opie’s girl, and although you had spent most of your life around your brother and his MC world, this club was different. There were new dynamics alongside a new set of rules. Lyla had been quick to help you when it came to any unspoken codes that came with being a part of this new family.

“Ugh” Lyla’s eyes flick to the entrance as she lets out a sigh. “I thought she wasn’t coming” she remarks, her voice portraying a hint of disgust, as she takes in the woman who just made an entrance.

She walks in confidently, as if she was familiar with the place even though you’d never met her. The boys glance at each other, their own irritation proved by their faces, especially Opie's. The way he looks between Lyla and the blonde, there’s definitely a history there, just one you weren't aware of.

You glance around, noticing the less than thrilled expressions on everyone’s faces, “Anyone gonna fill me in?” You ask, confused by the tension.

“That, my friend…is Ima, one of the Diosa girls” Chibs starts, only for Juice to cut in with a grin as he joins the table.

“Did anyone actually invite her, or does she just crash wherever she wants?” He jokes, finding her brazen confidence somewhat awkward.

“Word probably spread around Diosa” Happy adds, a man you’ve discovered, of very few words. You catch Opie fidgeting, avoiding Lylas gaze. When you meet eyes with her, she gives you a look, one that clearly says, I’ll tell you later.

“Well, that’s Jackie’s birthday ruined” Chibs chimes in with a chuckle, fully aware of how Jax will react to her presence. Juice nudges him to shut up as Ima confidently strides past the table, not acknowledging anyone sat at it.

The boys begin to disperse, leaving you alone with Lyla. She leans closer, the scent of alcohol evident on her breath.

“So.. you two have beef or what?” you ask, eager to get to the bottom of the tension. Lyla sighs, draining the last of her drink, “A while ago, me and Ope had a stupid argument. He never came home that night...” she starts, your face screwing with disappointment, already guessing where this is going.

“With her? are you foreal?” you interrupt, eyebrows raised. She nods, her expression now dim. “Yeah, I mean, you know... I wasn’t always behind the camera at Red Woody. I used to be in front of it...with Ima” she cringes. “When me and Ope first got together it put a lot of pressure on us” she sighs deeply, her eyes becoming distant.

“Girl, please tell me you beat her ass” you say with a sly smirk, your attempt at lightening the mood. Lyla lets out a soft laugh. “Not my style” she admits, her tone now sounding defeated.

“So why is the bitch still around?” you ask bluntly, the frustration creeping in.

Lyla shrugs, “The clubs dealing with a lot right now, you know and she’s the main attraction at Diosa. She brings in the money, and the club really needs it” Lyla, being a members old lady obviously knows a lot more than she’s letting on. However, you nod your head in understanding even though you think she still should have caught a beating someway or somehow. “and... her and Jax?” you try to sound casual, not wanting to sound too concerned.

“Ima and Jax?” she laughs, shaking her head. “that’s not been a thing for a while. They hooked up back in the day, on Jax’s terms obviously, but to be honest I don’t think he can stand her now, especially after the Opie thing. He doesn’t get involved with her Diosa stuff either, Nero handles all that. Its like he does whatever he can to avoid her”. She chuckles softly, gesturing with a tilt of her head “see what I mean?” you glance around and spot Ima following after Jax like a lost puppy. He’s clearly uninterested, his body language screaming avoidance but she’s relentless.

“Damn” you drag the word out, as you use your hand to discreetly cover your laughter. “It's giving desperate”. The two of you burst into laughter, leaning into each other and bumping shoulder’s as you can’t contain your amusement any longer over Ima’s shameless antics.

You haven’t actually had a chance to talk to Jax tonight, he is of course, a popular guy and always in demand. And when things did finally quite down, Ima was stuck to him like a fly on shit. None of that stopped either of you stealing looks at each other all night, just like you always do when you’re in the same room. It’s funny though, and not in a conceited way, but you’ve always known you were pretty, and so did everybody else. But being T.O’s little sister, none of the men around you would dare try anything. None of them, that is, except Jax.

This time, when you locked eye contact, he looked around to make sure no one was watching, motioning for you to come over. As you approached, you noticed he already had a drink waiting for you. “Happy Birthday” you say with a smirk.

“Thank you, y/n” he replies, his lips curving into a smile, raising his arms to pull you into a hug. It’s not the first time you’ve hugged Jax, but just like the first, it stirs something warm in your stomach, and lower. Igniting a feeling you cant quite ignore.

He takes a moment to admire you, his eyes, as usual, lingering a little longer than they should. He takes in every detail, biting his lip softly as he catches his distorted reflection in your chunky gold hoops as they sway with your movements. “I like what you’ve got going on there” he says with a small smile, lifting his beer to his lips as he casually twirls a finger in the air, gesturing towards your hair.

You slide onto the stool beside him, settling yourself into the corner. “And what’s that?” you respond, your voice teasing and your eyes holding his with a slow taunting glare as you sip your drink.

“Your hair” he says, his tone confident and eyes locked onto you.

“My hair?” you echo, raising an eyebrow as you cross one leg over the other, leaning back slightly, your upper thigh now exposed.

“Yeah, the twirly bits” he says with a soft chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s embarrassed. You bite back a laugh, nodding in response to him. “You mean my baby hairs” you add, nudging him gently with your shoulder, a silent reassurance that you’re not offended.

“If that’s what you call them” he grins, his laugh more relaxed now. “How’d you do them?” he asks, genuinely curious now. “It’s an art”, you tease, tracing your nail around the rim of your glass “Not as easy as you’d think” you take a slow sip, giving direct eye contact.

“Ahh, so you’ve got to be good with your hands?” he says, his voice dipping into a more playful tone, his eyes scanning over you in a way that mirrored the first time you met.

“You got that right” you reply, your smile widening as you shift slightly on your stool, trying to ignore the heat building inside of you.

“And are you?” his aura more serious now, like he’s asking for something much deeper than what he’s letting on.

Your tone, now matching his “Wouldn’t you like to know” a knowing smirk on your lips. You can feel Ima’s eyes burning into the side of your slicked back bun, but you really couldn’t give a shit.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say no” he chuckles, his face flushing slightly as he looks away for a moment, trying to mask the slight excitement.

“Hmm, not sure your lil’ friend would like that” you say, looking in Imas direction. You knew it was a cheap shot bringing her up but you can’t help yourself, you want to see how he’ll react.

He lets out a quick laugh, shaking his head. “Nah, I’ve learnt my lesson with that one” The way he says it, makes it clear there’s nothing left on his side and he really does regret it.

You giggle softy, “Post nut clarity and all that” you tease, giving him a knowing wink “happens to the best of us” you add.

“Wouldn’t happen with you though” he replies smoothly, his eyes lifting slowly to meet yours, waiting to see how you’d react, so he could work out if he should make his move or not.

Before you even have the chance to respond, Jax’s attention shifts to someone standing next to you. You turn to your left, of course. it’s Ima. You look her up and down, already bracing for whatever drama she’s about to start.

“I’ve got that birthday present for you, Jax” she says, twirling her hair and giving him a look dripping with lust. You hold your glass in front of your face, doing your best to not laugh at her mere desperation.

“Nah, I’m good” Jax shuts her down instantly, not even sparing much attention. You don’t miss the way her posture stiffens, her body language switching to frustration. She turns her attention to you instead, it’s obvious she’s got an attitude. “Sorry, and you are?”she asks, her tone irritable. It’s clear she’s annoyed that Jax’s attention is on you, and not her.

“y/n” you answer, giving her a sharp look before cutting your eyes back to Jax. You catch the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “Well, I’m Ima” she says, trying to assert her dominance.

“Good for you” you reply casually, finishing off your drink with a deliberate sip, refusing to give her the reaction she’s looking for.

You rise from the stool, adjusting your skirt as you do. Just to get under her skin, you lean in close to Jax, your lips brushing his ear as you whisper “I wouldn’t say no either, by the way” A sly smile spreads across your face as you pull back, sharing that same eye contact again, before you stroll towards the bar, a purposeful sway in your step.

“What’s her problem?” Ima snaps, watching you walk away with a scowl.

“She doesn’t have a problem” Jax responds flatly, his patience already wearing thin. He looks her up and down, silently willing her to leave him alone.

“Seriously Jax?” She scoffs “she was a total bitch to me. You’re just gonna let her talk to me like that?”

Jax raises an eyebrow, his expression a mixture of confusion and annoyance. “Let her? Ima, what the hell are you even talking about?” He hangs his head down.

“She disrespected me!” She insists, raising her voice slightly. Jax exhales sharply. “And why would I care? You’re not my problem” he retaliates. His voice steady but covered in irritation. Ima freezes, her mouth pressing into a thin line “I was just saying-”

“Yeah, well, dont” he shakes his head, turning and walking away from her. Clearly done with the conversation.

Jax then bumps into Juice, slapping him on the shoulder. “You good brother?” He asks, noticing Juice’s glazed over eyes as he tries to form a coherent response.

Jax chuckles, shaking his head “damn, you’re out of it man… hey you seen y/n?” He adds casually, but Juice just laughs, too high to fully grasp the question.

“You’re walking a fine line there, Jax” Tig cuts in, appearing at Jax’s side. His tone amused but the raised eyebrow says enough. Jax smirks, brushing off his comment “come on, Tiggy I can handle it”

Tig sighs “she stepped out not long ago” he says pointing his head in the direction of the door. Then, with a slight grin, he adds “Guess I better go distract big brother” Jax laughs, patting him on the shoulder. “Good man” he says, before heading for the door, already set on finding you.

Jax steps outside, discovering you tucked away in a quiet corner near the clubhouse door, the orange glow from the joint in your hand giving you away. “So this is where you disappeared to” he says with a smirk, his usual teasing tone present.

You take a slow pull from the joint, then hand it over to him gracefully. “Needed a breather from all the desperation” you let him know, he laughs, knowing you’re talking about Ima.

You watch him take a drag, exhaling the smoke smoothly. He presses his lips together, tasting the sweetness left behind from your gloss.

Wiping his thumb across his mouth, he tilts his head with a smirk “Vanilla?” He questions, his voice low and teasing. You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Coconut, actually” you say, biting your lip, daring him to disagree.

“Nah” he says, standing firmly. “That’s definitely vanilla” he says, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

“Why don’t you come and make sure?” You tease, your voice dripping with challenge, forcing him to make the first move.

He steps closer. His stride slow but the confidence impossible to ignore. His hand brushes your cheek, the warmth of it sending a shiver down your spine. Then, without hesitation, he leans in, kissing you deeply.

His tongue explores your mouth and yours doing the same to his. He pulls back slowly, catching your bottom lip gently between his teeth. He deliberately runs his tongue over his lips, “Vanilla” he says, smirking knowing he’s right.

You chew the corner of your lip slightly, unable to hide your grin. “Vanilla” you admit, you knew all along, you just wanted to see if he’d take the bait. He lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head as if he can’t believe he fell for your game, a glimmer of admiration in his eyes though.

Suddenly, the air shifts. The silence between you both speaks louder than words. The weight of the moment settling in. It’s a rare moment for you both to be alone like this. No distractions, no eyes watching, just the two of you. Both of you knowing it will most likely be a while before you find yourselves like this again, so why not make the most of it?

He pins you against the wall with an urgent intensity, his hands moving over you with a hunger that speaks of all the times he’s had to hold back. You lean into his neck as his lips find your skin. Your fingers fumbling with his belt buckle, making your intentions crystal clear.

“You okay with this? Out here?” He asks softly, between kisses. His voice still low and full of concern, making sure you’re certain before he agrees.

“Why not?” You smirk, biting your lip just enough to drive him crazy. He leans back slightly, glancing past the wall towards the clubhouse “anyone could come out” he warns, though the hunger in his voice proves he’s more than willing.

His eyes flash with mischief, “gimme your leg” he says, gripping your thigh as you lift it, bending his knees and manoeuvring himself so he’s placed exactly where you want him to be.

You moan softly throwing your head back a little in pleasure as he unfastens his jeans. He places his throbbing cock between your legs, sliding your dampened panties to the side with his hardness.

Gathering your slickness with his tip just before he pushes himself into you. He bends down slightly, adjusting his stance as he scoops you up, holding you securely against him now.

You let out a loud whimper as he finds his way inside of you, his hand instinctively covering your mouth, loosening his grip on you. “If…you…want…me…to…keep…fucking…you…shut…the…fuck…up” Jax murmurs in a low hush, the words punctuated with each thrust.

He lets his hand fall away, wrapping his arms around you tighter. His movements are a bit uneven, caught between holding you steady against the wall, keeping you quiet, and giving you everything you’ve been craving. He can tell that you’re loving it though, the way you keep whispering his name and how your hands grasp at his hair like you never want to let go, lets him know that he’s doing just fine. The sounds of your pleasure pushing him further, making it harder for him to hold back.

The sudden creak of the clubhouse door startles you both, freezing you mid motion. Your breath catches, your body tense as you feel him still pulsing inside of you. Jax’s hand flies to your mouth, covering it firmly. His own breathing heavy as his eyes dart towards the sound. Your dark brown panicked gaze locks with his, like a deer caught in headlights, both waiting to hear who it is.

Gemma steps out with Nero, their laughter filling the quiet night. “Not bad for an old man” Gemma teases, covering her cigarette from the wind as she lights it.

Nero grins, pulling Gemma in for a kiss. “Old man, huh? I didn’t hear you complainin’ a minute ago mama” he says, pulling her in for a kiss. Jax cringing, shutting his eyes in disgust as your laugh bounces off the palm of Jax’s hand.

As they talk, you move ever so slightly, one of your gold hoops sliding from your ear, clinking softly against the pavement. Both you and Jax instinctively follow it with wide eyes, as it rolls just out of reach.

“What was that?” Nero asks, his head snapping in the direction of the sound. Jax clamps his hand tighter. “Don’t move” he mouths silently.

“Probably nothing” Gemma says, not paying much attention. “This place is falling apart” she takes another drag from her cigarette, looking upwards to the ‘Teller Morrow’ garage sign.

Nero tilts his head thoughtfully. “That girl, y/n, that's T.O’s sister, right?” Gemma nods, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “Yeah, why?” she questions.

He clears his throat. “Nothing, you know just saw her whispering somethin’ in Jax’s ear. Ima was standing there too... looked pretty pissed” Gemma smiles knowingly, flicking ash from her cigarette. She had sensed something brewing between the two of you though she’d kept her observations to herself, Nero’s comment now confirming her suspicions.

“I thought something was happening there” she tells Nero.

“and how do you feel about that mama?” he asks, now holding Gemma by the waist.

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing. I know she’d keep my boy in line, that’s for sure”. She smiles gently, thinking about it.

Nero smiles in response, nodding his head slowly. “She’s got that fire, huh?” he laughs, guiding Gemma back into the clubhouse as she finishes her cigarette.

The clubhouse door closes behind Gemma and Nero. Jax finally able to move, pulling away from you and adjusting himself back to normal. You smooth out your clothes and fix your hair, doing your best to look innocent.

Jax’s grin still plastered on his face. “Think my mom’s ready for some caramel grand babies” he jokes. You laugh shaking your head and smacking his chest “Shut up, Jax” you say, trying to hold back your own smile.

“Go on” he gestures towards the door, motioning for you to head back inside first. “Don’t wanna make it too obvious”. His dick is still hard, being restrained behind his jeans. He fidgets slightly waiting for it to settle, as you turn to leave, he suddenly calls out your name. You glance back, seeing him holding your hoop. “Don’t forget this” he says, handing it back.

“Thanks” you mumble, noticing ever so slightly how he’s shifting back and forth.

As you turn to leave, you raise your skirt just enough for him to see your ass cheeks, slipping out from the bottom.

“Not helping y/n” He laughs, biting his ringed knuckles. you giggle as you head back inside, that ‘I just had sex’ sway in your step.

As you step back into the clubhouse, still fiddling with your earring, T.O spots you immediately. His gaze sharpens, tracking your every move as you slide into the space next to him.

“You good?” You ask, keeping your tone light as you twist the hoop back into place. “Where you been?” He asks, his voice calm but a hint of curiosity there.

“Needed some air, just went for a smoke” you reply, looking around the room, as if you weren’t just getting sloppily fucked by your brother’s president.

He nods, almost convinced, until his eyes catch Jax, walking in through the doors minutes after you. Pulling at the waistband of his jeans, his expression relaxed, maybe a bit too much.

T.O’s jaw tightens, his teeth gritting together as he glances between the two of you. “You and Jax been breathin’ the same air out there?” He questions, the suspicion shining through.

You shrug pretending not to notice the obvious tension. “Didn’t see him” you reply before taking a sip of your drink. Your brother doesn’t respond, just leans back and keeps a sharp eye on Jax as he moves through the room. “Aight” he mutters, but you can feel the heat of his doubt.

Lyla slides into the seat opposite to you, her easy smile offering a welcome distraction from the tension with your brother. “Hey, where you been?” She asks, noticing you’ve been absent for a little while.

“Just stepped out for some air and a smoke” you smile in her direction. She leans closer, lowering her voice as if she was telling you a secret. “Ima’s pissed about whatever happened at the table earlier, with you and Jax”.

You open your mouth to respond, but your brother interrupts, his tall frame casting a shadow over the table. “Scuse me” he says, his voice deep, waiting for you to move your legs aside so he can step out. You do as he asks, your eyes narrowing as you watch him head straight for the bar where Jax is currently standing, another beer in hand.

“Oh shit” you sigh under your breath, your heart racing as the tension follows T.O to Jax.

“You and y/n outside together? What was yall talking about?” Jax chuckles, trying to play it off “Nothing serious, just talking” trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, but he knows T.O can sense the truth, he narrows his eyes slightly analysing Jax’s words.

“Look,” Jax says, finally meeting his gaze. “Id never disrespect you, or your family. You know that, brother” he’s telling the truth, sort of anyway, fucking his sister against a wall minutes away from him, could be classed as disrespect. T.O nods slowly, his stance now softening.

He trusts Jax, and knows that Jax respects him and wouldn’t do anything to purposely hurt you. In a way, he wouldn’t even mind if you and Jax became a thing, Jax is a good man and T.O sees that.

“It’s not about disrespect, brother” T.O replies, his voice calm. “It’s about her being my little sister”

“Yeah I get it” Jax nods, fully understanding. He’s your big brother of course he’s gonna do what he can to look out for you, and the idea of you being with any man is probably the last thing he wants to think about.

T.O gives him a long look before finally letting out a small laugh. “Just don’t make me regret trusting you with her, man” Jax smirks, slapping T.O on the shoulder. “You won’t, brother”.

It had been a few months since you officially became Jax’s old lady. To your surprise, the relationship was treated with total support and respect from the moment you both announced it. Even your brother, who you suspected might have a hard time with it, embraced it without hesitation. In fact, it seemed to have brought him and Jax even closer, solidifying their bond in a way you never expected.

The air in the room was a mixture of tension and banter as the sons sat around the table, the club meeting in full swing. Despite the serious matters at hand, everyone couldn’t help but notice how Jax seemed particularly cheerful today.

“So, what does T.O stand for then?” Rat whispers to Happy, his voice low. Happy glances at Rat, knowing that if T.O catches wind of the conversation, he’s going to be pissed. “Taddarius” Happy responds, hushed and with no emotion.

Rat laughs, thinking happy is just messing around. “Wait, you’re not joking?” he asks, slightly sceptical.

Quinn then pipes up, “Call him that and see what happens”.

The others, T.O included begin noticing the quiet conversation. He narrows his eyes “what are you guys whispering about?” he asks, in a low tone.

Happy and Quinn exchange a brief glance, a silent warning, which Rat, does not pick up on. “Nothing...Taddarius” he says aloud, almost proud of the newfound information he has discovered.

Chibs, overhearing mutters under his breath “Jesus Christ”.

T.O’s expression hardens. “Unless I came out of your goddamn womb, don’t ever call me that, ya dig? Lil indie biker boy” he snarls.

Chibs has his face hidden in his hands, shaking his head trying not to laugh, whilst the others chuckle.

Opie, leaning back in his chair, and a smirk on his face tries to break tension. “Alright, man. Spill it… why do you look so damn happy this morning?" He taps his pen against the mahogany table, pointing at Jax when the word 'you' leaves his mouth.

Jax tries to keep a straight face, leaning forward his usual unbothered demeanour. “Can’t I just be in a good mood?” He tries to deflect, though his mind briefly wandered back to this morning, his head buried in your perfect pussy.

He catches a faint trace of you still clinging to his upper lip. Every so often, he slyly brushes his tongue over his lip, reliving the taste and the way you left him wanting more.

Tig also leans forward now, grinning wide. “Come on man, we all know what’s up. Chocolates good for the soul” he gives a small wink.

T.O groans, “watch it” he warns, pointing a finger at Tig, though the small smile tugging at his lips shows he’s only playing.

“Don’t look at me brother” Tig interjects, with that signature smile on his face. “We all know what’s got him smiling like that. Ain’t it true, Jax? the darker the berry-” he raises his hand as if he was conducting an orchestra.

“The sweeter the juice” the others finish for him, as the table explodes into laughter, everyone expect T.O.

Jax shakes his head, trying to hide his amusement as he looks over at T.O “you gonna let em talk about your sister like that?” He says, sarcastically, making light of the awkward situation.

T.O finally looks up, shaking his head in disgust. “Man, I don’t even wanna know” he says, though he couldn’t help but laugh along with the rest of them. Jax raises his hands in a false surrender, flashing a knowing grin towards T.O. “All love, brother, all love”

On the other side of the chapel doors, y/n and Gemma sit sipping coffee and chatting casually. Gemma noticing a little glow about you, too.

“How's Jax holding up?" She asks, curious about her son “coping with the club okay?” she follows up. You let her know that Jax is doing okay. Of course he has his moments but that comes with being the president.

She soon shifts her questioning, her tone turning more curious. “and you? how are you adjusting to the whiter side of the biker life? You doing okay sweetie?” Before you can answer, the door swings open, Ima walking in, dressed in next to nothing, she struts in like she owns the place.

Gemma looks to you, her coffee cup in front of her face “what the hell is porn princess doing here” she retorts.

Ima flips her hair, getting closer to you both “I��m here to talk to Jax. My Diosa check hasn’t cleared” she says, leaning against the bar.

“Jax doesn’t deal-” Gemma starts, standing from her seat, you cut her off before she can finish.

“Jax doesn’t deal with your Diosa shit” you say firmly, staring her down.

Gemma gives you a quick look, her expression proud, clearly impressed with how you're standing your ground regarding Jax. Ima, however, doesn’t seem fazed and folds her arms. “Well, Nero hasn’t answered my call and I need to get paid” she insists.

You shake your head, voice sharp. “Then call him again, Jax ain’t handling shit for you” you say, rising from your own seat.

Ima still, not backing down, takes a few steps closer towards you “Ill just wait for him in the dorm” she begins taking off her coat.

You grit your teeth, letting your eyes trail slowly over her. Sizing her up as you weigh your options. The frustration simmers beneath the surface, your mind racing between keeping your composure or flipping the fuck out.

As the tension between you and Ima reaches boiling point, Juice is peeking through the blinds, his eyes widening at the scene unfolding. “Uh...” he stammers, unsure how to handle what he’s seeing.

“Jax...T.O...” he calls out, unsure of who to summon, your brother or your man. Everyone in the room looks over to Juice with puzzled expressions.

“Looks like things are about to kick off between y/n and Ima” he says, everyone now intrigued.

“What is that gash doing here?” Chibs questions Ima’s presence.

Jax, who’s been expecting something like this for a while now, exhales deeply, rubbing his hand over his face. Without a word, he gets up and the rest of the guys follow. Filing out of the room one by one.

As the door opens, Ima immediately zones in on Jax. She wastes no time, sliding up to him and grabbing hold of his arm, her voice dripping with forced sweetness.

Jax locks eyes with you from across the room, his expression apologetic. It’s Ima's next move that pushes things over the edge. She leans in closer to Jax as if she was about to whisper something only meant for him. T.O, who’s standing just behind Jax, immediately clocks the shift in your expression. The familiar fire in your eyes and the way your jaw is currently set. “Here we go” he mutters under his breath, bracing for the inevitable.

You lunge towards Jax and Ima, grabbing a fistful of her hair and wrapping it tightly, twice around your hand. Without hesitation, you drag her backwards just a little before throwing her to the ground, the back of her head hitting the concrete with a sharp slam. T.O starts to move forward, ready to pull you away, but Jax steps in, holding him back. “No” he says calmly, getting comfortable against the wall with his arms crossed. “She’s got this” he says unfazed and fully confident you can handle yourself.

You give Ima a moment to steady herself as she stands, but instead of backing down, she sneers “stupid bitch” she throws herself at you. Her bloody hands grab at your necklace. Snatching it clean off, shattering to the ground.

The sound of your chain hitting the floor fuels your anger. You grab her wrist, shoving her back against the bar, trapping her. With no hesitation, you start swinging, each punch landing, forcing grunts of pain to spew out of her.

Blood trickles from the corner of her mouth, smearing across her lips as she spits a crimson pool onto the floor. Her teeth flash red when she tries to speak. “stop” she manages to say, through her swollen trembling lip.

You don’t stop, in fact you carry on, each punch connecting harder than the last. “She’s gonna kill her” Gemma says, turning around to glance at Jax, both concerned and impressed. “I know” Jax replies with a proud grin, his eyes fixed on you.

T.O watches on, torn between pride and caution. “Jax, you know she really gone’ kill her right?” he mutters, agreeing with Gemma’s unease.

“Jax!” Gemma shouts, louder this time. She’s not defending Ima, but the last thing she needs is to help clean up after another dead body.

Jax glances over at T.O, who gives him a look that confirms Gemma’s right. With a heavy sigh, Jax pushes himself off the wall. “Fine” he grumbles, striding towards you.

He forces his way between you and Ima, grabbing your fist just as its about to land. “Enough!” he shouts, his voice firm. You struggle against his grip, trying to break free but he tightens his hold. “I SAID ENOUGH!” this time, his tone carries authority and it cuts through your anger.

“Look at me!” he demands, gripping your face. Ima’s blood splattered across your skin. Jax’s eyes meet yours, calm but commanding “Thats enough” he echoes. He steps back, pushing your arm gently towards your brother and then gesturing towards the dorm “T.O, take your sister in there” he orders. T.O nods, his face unreadable as he guides you away before things escalates even further.

As T.O pulls you away by your arm, you manage to twist and break free, charging back to Ima. Your fist connects with her face one last time. “That was for Lyla, Bitch!” You shout in her face, Jax pushes you back, but you just laugh. T.O finally getting hold of you again, and forcing you back to the dorm.

The guys watch Ima for a moment as she slumps against the bar, hand pressed against her bloodied face. A few mutter amongst themselves, shaking their heads before heading back into the chapel, leaving her alone with Gemma and Jax.

Gemma stays back, her expression cold as Jax steps forward. Ima, looking up at him, not wanting y/n to have the last laugh. “you should learn to control your whore” she sneers, spitting her dirty blood directly onto his kutte.

Jax’s expression darkens, a snarl curling his lips as he grabs the back of her head, slamming it against the bar with brutal force. Ima lets out a sharp cry, but that doesn’t stop him. He spins her around, pressing her back against the bar as his hand tightens around her throat. “You ever bring that rancid pussy near my club or my family again...” he growls, his voice venomous. “I’ll kill you. You understand?”. Ima doesn’t respond, too stunned to speak, but Jax doesn’t care to hear her answer.

He curls his tongue, gathering a mouthful of spit before forcefully spitting it back straight into Ima’s face, pointing a finger directly at her, his voice drips with anger as he growls “Whore!”.

He shoves her face hard as he lets go, giving his mom a small nod, silently telling her to ‘deal with it’. Picking up a cloth from the side, he casually wipes Ima’s spit off his kutte, his movement calm but deliberate.

Chucking the cloth to the side, and without looking back, he strides down the hallway, his steps heavy with purpose. He has a swagger in his walk, but the rage is still unmistakable.

The anger fades slightly from his face, replaced with concern as he approaches the dorm door, making it clear his only focus is making sure you’re okay.

Gemma, tasked with the job of getting Ima out of here, picks up the same cloth, tossing some ice into it before shoving it into Ima’s hand.

Leaning in slowly, she locks eyes with her, the eye contact sharp and unforgiving.

“She’s not his whore” Gemma hisses, her voice filled with poison.

“She’s his old lady” She drags out each word, making sure Ima fully understands her place.

Photos & gifs do not belong to me, just edited them together.

Honestly, I fucking loved doing this one. I had so much fun writing this, literally played out in my head like an actual episode. Hope you all love it just as much. I also always try to write from a perspective so that multiple readers can connect with the story, so like not to describe skin or hair colour/texture etc. However this story is looking through the eyes of a black female reader. I, myself am black. So please don’t take anything said, described or done as a generalised or stereotypical view. I was literally writing as if it was me in the situation (which I always do, duh) but yes, I hope it portrays well! Oh and also I am from the UK which is why sometimes spellings are a little off depending where you’re from lol.

Jax Teller Masterlist

xoxo secretly samcro

#jax teller x black reader #jax teller #samcro #sons of anarchy #charlie hunnam #jax teller one shot #jax teller x reader #secretly samcro #soa #jax teller imagine #jax x reader #Jax teller smut #black reader x sons of anarchy #secretlysamcro #juice ortiz #rat boy #chibs sons of anarchy #black!reader

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wrttenbyhan · 2 days ago

Text

dear future husband..

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 :

annoyed!fem reader x soon to be fiancé!han jisung

𝐚/𝐧 :

my first oneshot 🤍

“love, you're making this difficult,”

a groan lingers in the back of han's throat, although he stifles it inside for his sake.

your heels tap on the ground with a fierce pace, eyes narrowed, keeping your back turned on him.

“nessa, come on, baby,”

he hesitates to pull you back, but he decides to grab onto your purse's string, stopping you in your tracks.

“why are you like this? what'd i do?”

you spun around,

“you're late! this isn't the first time you've done this to our dates, han.”

well, how would you not be frustrated? you dolled up for hours and he shows up an hour late.

“i’m sorry, angel, something.. came up at work,”

han internally curses at himself. he got too carried away looking at rings and flowers, thinking it's only six o’ clock. how's he gonna propose when you're mad at him?

you sigh and repeat his last word out loud.

han can immediately tell from the tone of your voice that you clearly don't believe him. he hesitates to respond further, knowing damn well you'll get more annoyed.

“yeah,”

he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck.

“i had something to do urgently, and i got held back.”

truthfully, he wanted to ask the florist on which bouquet's the best to give to you and the jeweller on the right ring, but you don't need to know that yet.

“you say that all the time,”

you say, before tugging onto your purse so your boyfriend lets go,

“i can't believe you anymore.”

han grits his teeth at your comment. you weren’t wrong though, he does say that excuse a lot..

“i really did, i swear. we had a meeting about our latest album.”

he knows you wouldn’t believe him either way, but he tries to sound convincing. he just needed to make you believe him somehow so that you and him can go on your date and end the day on a good note before he proposed on the next day.

“but this isn't the first time this has happened.”

“i know.. i-”

han heaves a long sigh. he knows how frustrated you are, and he's frustrated at himself too. why couldn’t he have just double checked the time?

he takes a few steps closer to you, gently rubbing comforting circles around your arms.

“i’m really sorry, i didn’t mean to make you this mad..”

“are you cheating on me?”

you say, the question just spilling out of your mouth. you audibly hear han gasp,

“what?”

his mouth drops at your question, eyes widening.

“of course not! i’d never do that to you..”

he’s completely shocked that you'd even ask that. it’s the last thing he would ever do to you, cheat on you. even the thought of it just sickens him.

“then what are you doing that’s making you late all the time? because it’s not work.”

“i-”

he hesitates and internally panics. he can’t just tell you yet, he has to come up with a random excuse.

“it’s just work, i swear!”

he knows it’s a terrible excuse, but he has no choice. if he told you the real reason, it’d ruin the surprise.. and ruin his proposal for tomorrow.

“fine..”

you sigh, before dragging him along to the car. han takes your hand in his, intertwining fingers, and heads out of his apartment and into the car. he helps you into the passenger seat before hopping into the driver’s seat and starting the vehicle.

the entire car ride was pretty silent, a comfortable one though. he glances over at you from time to time. you still look mad, and he mentally curses at himself.

“han, you idiot, make her happy,”

is what he said to himself in his mind.

as he stops the car at the parking lot, he immediately unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the car. he hurries around the car to open your door for you.

he helps you out of the car and shuts the door close before taking your hand in his again.

“come on.”

with that, he slowly walks beside you into the restaurant, still holding onto your hand.

as you both entered and were escorted to a table, han quietly pulls back your chair from the table before gesturing you to take a seat. he pushes the chair back closer to the table before sitting down into his own seat across from you.

he grabs the menu and looks over the options, although he’a not actually thinking of what to order. he’s too focused on your mood instead.

he sneaks a few glances at you as you scan your eyes over the menu. he’s still upset over the fact you thought he’d cheat on you. how could you even think that? he loves you more than anything in this world, and he could never, ever do that to you.

han notices you set the menu down and fold your arms across your chest, now looking out of the window. you still don’t look too happy, and it breaks his heart seeing you like that. he hates himself for messing up this date with you.

he sighs, folding his own menu and setting it beside the other. he reaches a hand out to take yours on the table, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

“can you look at me?”

he asks gently,

“please.”

“hm?”

he pouts at your emotionless response, and he continues to rub your knuckles.

“please, look at me..”

he repeats, a slight desperate tone in his voice. he just wants you to look at him. you ask him why, and he only just sighs louder. that stung. he’s not expecting that response. he tries his best to keep his calm, although that comment hurt him.

he takes a deep breath and speaks.

“i want you to look at me because i hate it when you’re mad at me..”

you look anywhere but at his eyes. you end up staring at the menu, saying,

“i’m not mad at you.”

yet it was clear you were annoyed with him because you said it with sass and attitude. han raises an eyebrow at your comment, not believing you. you’re still not looking at him, and he knows you’re definitely mad.

“love, you’re definitely mad. you just won’t admit it.”

you look up at him, groaning and rolling your eyes. he almost let out a sigh of relief when you finally looked at him. the sight of your eyes made his heart skip a beat.

he holds your hand gently, intertwining his fingers with yours and rubbing circles around your knuckles.

“finally..”

he smiles, trying to act casually and hide his relief.

“there’s that pretty face of yours,”

he mutters quietly as he looks at you, staring into your eyes.

he brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on your knuckles,

“and there’s those beautiful eyes i love seeing..”

he looks at you expectantly, studying your expression closely. he can tell you’re still upset with him, but he doesn’t want to mention anything that might worsen the mood.

“are you.. still mad at me?”

he asks in a hesitant tone, afraid of your response. you shake your head and he grins, and you find yourself grinning back.

his heart flutters in relief and he lets out a breath as he gently massages your knuckle, feeling overjoyed that you’re no longer upset.

“good..”

he mumbles blissfully. curious, you ask him what he's going to order.

“hm?”

he glances at you, surprised by your random question.

“oh uh, i’ll just have the steak, rare.”

he answers, his thoughts elsewhere. he’s wondering how he’s gonna propose later.

“how about you?”

you hesitate, knowing that he'll probably tease you for choosing yet again,

“the pasta.”

as expected, han scoffs and chuckles, his hand squeezing yours.

“you’re getting pasta again?”

he teased you since you always ordered pasta when both of you went to a restaurant. you blush in embarrassment and nod. you then looked at the menu again, trying to see if there was anything that piqued your interest.

“i could have the fish.. or the potatoes.”

he hums, trying to picture you eating fish or potatoes.

“you know you’re gonna end up ordering pasta again.”

he comments, and he’s correct, most likely. after a good two minutes, you sigh and look up at han, who was still smirking from ear to ear.

“can.. can i just have the pasta?”

“if that’s what you really want..”

he grins, knowing you’d never ever change off the pasta.

“at least you’ll be happy with your decision.”

he lets go of one of your hands and motions for a waiter. a waiter makes his way to your table, the man smiling politely as he pulls out a pen and notepad.

han turns to the waiter and says,

“we’d like to order now.”

“i’ll have the steak, rare. and she’ll have the pasta.”

he tells the waiter.

they nod and jots down the orders, looking up at both of you.

“will that be all?”

“yes, we’re done for now,”

he replies, nodding slightly at the waiter.

they smile once again.

“your orders will be ready in a while. thank you.”

with that, the man walks away.

he turns back to you, looking at you again. he takes your hand in his again, gently stroking your knuckles with his thumb.

“you know i’m right.”

he points out, a hint of a playful smirk crossing his features.

“you’re not gonna change your mind, because you always choose pasta.”

you giggle and tell him to shut up. but then your attention immediately goes to a man going down on one knee to his girlfriend. he watches the couple from the other table in a corner of his eye, seeing the man taking out a small velvet box and holding it out to his girlfriend. han feels slightly envious of their moment, as it’s only a matter of time before his own proposal begins.

he hums, still watching the couple in envy. He’s wondering how he’s going to pull off his own proposal later at night.

“they look happy,”

he comments quietly, still studying the couple. the man is now holding the girlfriend’s hand as he slides the ring on her finger.

“aww!”

you mumble, while the man embraces the now-engaged woman, both of them sharing a soft kiss.

han’s heart aches slightly in jealousy of the couple as he watches them. he suddenly wonders how you’ll react to his own proposal.

you whisper to han,

“she’s crying, that's so adorable!”

he nods his head in agreement with your statement, focusing on the engaged couple.

“it is cute,”

he muses, continuing to watch their moment. He looks at their happy faces and wishes for his own proposal to be a success.

“i wonder if you’ll cry too when i propose to you…”

he mumbles to himself, watching as the man helps his newly-engaged woman up from her chair and holding her in his arms.

“or maybe you won’t cry, and you’ll simply just look at me in shock.. like how you did when i first confessed to you..”

he smiles slightly at the memory of your surprised face when he confessed to you.

it was now the morning of the big day. han was going to propose to you today.

he was woken up by the sunlight streaming through the curtains. he blinks his eyes open, the sunlight slightly blinding him. he sits up in the bed, the sheets pooling around his lap. his eyes scan around the bedroom, landing on you, who was still asleep.

he takes a moment to admire you in your slumber, seeing your peaceful face and your slowly rising chest.

he then glances at the digital clock on the bedside. six am. another hour, and he’ll propose to you. he can already feel his heart rate quicken in anticipation.

he lets out a shaky breath, trying to calm down his racing heart. he looks at you once more, seeing your eyes still shut.

quietly, he slowly slips out of bed and pads across the carpet to the bathroom. he flicks on the light and closes the door softly.

he turns to the mirror, his eyes landing on his own reflection. he takes in his appearance, seeing his disheveled hair, and his slightly swollen eyes.

“you look nervous,”

he thinks to himself, trying to compose himself. he splashes cold water on his face and tries to calm down.

he grabs a towel off the rack and starts drying his face. he takes a few more breaths, taking the time to calm down from his nervousness.

he’s nervous, but he’s also excited to finally make you his fiancé and future wife.

the thought of what is to come floods into han’s mind.

“what if she says no? what if she hates the ring? what if she doesn’t want to marry me yet?”

his brain is suddenly filled with negative thoughts, and he tries to get rid of them. a cold feeling washes over him at the thought of you saying no to him.

“calm down,”

he tells himself, don’t overthink it. he glances at the mirror again, looking at his reflection once more.

he looks a little shaky and a bit pale, so he splashes his face with cold water again. he’s trying to calm down, but the thought of you rejecting him is constantly looping his mind,

“you’re just overthinking, he reassures himself, she’s not going to say no. you both already talked about getting married someday..”

he tries to stop his anxious thoughts but just the mere idea of you saying no is eating him up inside.

he lets out another shaky breath, trying to push the negative thoughts away. he forces on a small smile and tells himself everything will be okay.

“you’re going to propose, and she’s going to say yes. you’ll get engaged that night, and she’ll love the ring. it’s gonna be fine. you’ve been together for years, and she’s madly in love with you..”

han slowly steps out of the bathroom, his mind still racing with thoughts.

he approaches the bed and sits on the edge, looking at your sleeping form once again.

“babe,”

he calls out quietly, gently shaking your shoulder. he continues gently shaking your shoulder, trying to wake you up.

“babe..”

he repeats, his voice soft so he doesn’t startle you. your eyes flutter open and you sit up, rubbing your eyes and squinting. han couldn't help but smile at how adorable you were, your messy hair all over the place and how you struggled to get up.

“morning, love,”

he says gently.

“sorry to wake you,”

he apologizes as his words register in your sleepy head. you smile tiredly and puckered your lips at him. he chuckles and obediently pecks your lips and buried his head into your neck.

“i have a surprise for you,”

he suddenly whispers it into your ear, gently biting the crook of your neck, arms slowly wrapping around your waist. his breath feels heavy and hot.

without a word to protest, han pulls you towards the balcony, your steps following his as he guides you.

the night breeze was fresh, a little chilly. the sky was clear and a hint of the moonlight seeps into the balcony.

he slowly tugs you by the railing. you feel han behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder. he rubs your sides and you look behind yourself, seeing his beautiful face. he smiles and you ask him,

“what’s the surprise?”

“just.. stay still and just close your eyes,”

he softly kisses your cheek as he gently commands you to shut your eyes. he's being strangely careful,

“no peeking..”

he flips around so that you're facing him. he gently places your hands over your eyes and whispers,

“keep still, honey.”

he hugs you from behind for a few seconds, rubbing your hips to relax you, but mostly to relax himself.

he moves away, letting his warmth leave your body, going in front you. you can hear his ragged breathing, and a whisper. a click of his tongue.

then, you feel his presence before you. he was knelt down on one knee, facing you now.

“you can open your eyes now, angel..”

his voice was soft. your eyes were met with his, his soft brown hues staring into your soul, a smile playing in the corners of his lips. a shaky breath leaves his lips.

he's holding a small black velvet box, holding on to it anxiously. you gasp and han chuckled at your reaction, taking a shaky breath, fiddling with the box.

“i didn’t think it would take me so much courage..”

he slowly opens the box, revealing a diamond ring to you, sparkling under the moonlight.

“i..”

he can feel his heart hammering against his chest, sweat coating his skin. he can’t find the words, but he tries anyway, his eyes not leaving yours.

“i’ve been in love with you since the day i met you. i don’t ever wanna lose you. i can’t live.. and i don't want to live without you,”

he can feel nervousness bubble up within him, his body tense.

“i don’t want to be just your boyfriend anymore.. i want more..”

he gently grabs one of your hands, holding it tightly, his thumb stroking the back of it.

he takes another shaky breath in, his brown eyes locking with yours intently.

“i want to marry you…”

he lets the words hang in the air, the night suddenly falling deadly silent. it was only you and him, alone. he nervously awaits your response, breath caught within his throat, his eyes filled with desperation.

“will you.. marry me, angel?”

you find yourself choked up in tears. you sob and han was taken aback by your sudden reaction, watching a tear roll down your cheek, your hand slightly trembling within his grasp.

his eyes widen a little bit, his heart suddenly aching, as he waited for your answer. he says to himself in the back of his mind,

“please say yes..”

you stare at han on the ground for you. he looks up and you, concerned, awaiting your answer. you nod and blurt out,

“yes!”

a sigh of relief escaped his lips. a shaky breath.

a genuine smile slowly pulls its way up and takes over his features, his eyes lighting up, his lips trembling. he gingerly takes the ring out of the box and slowly slides it onto your finger.

“you’re mine..”

he whispers, his voice cracking a little. he stood up and pulled you into his chest, his arms caging you.

he could hear your cries against his chest, his hands gently tracing over your back, his chin resting on top of your head.

“you’re crying.. why are you crying, angel? every time i see you cry, i..”

he softly mumbled, his own tears stopping him from finishing the sentence. he embraces you firmly against his frame, his warmth enveloping you. you choke out,

“i’m just so happy..”

han held you a little closer, his nose nuzzling against the top of your head, his hand gently caressing your back. He lets out another shaky breath, a sigh of relief.

“so you really are mine now.. my fiancé..”

the word falling off his mouth was like honey to your ears.

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darlingdaisyfarm · 23 hours ago

Note

oohhh ok this is so self indulgent but do you think you could do a short fic with ford comforting his fem!s/o that's crying because she doesn't feel like she's pretty enough? thank you lots of love 🥺🩷

prettier than a supernova | Ford Pines x reader

some people give compliments. Ford Pines gives a full scientific breakdown of how breathtaking you are

a/n: this is my soft little love letter to anyone who needs a reminder that they're perfect as they are. sometimes you need someone like Ford to tell you you’re worth more than the stars themselves. angel i hope this makes you feel warm and loved. just a little something to remind you that no matter what, you are stunningly, breathtakingly beautiful (also this can be read as gender neutral too!! this photo here is bc i love it and i think it just suits ford bc of sweater)

You don’t mean to start crying, you don’t want to. You press the heel of your palm to your cheek, frustrated. But that ugly feeling has been sitting inside you all day, heavily pressing against your ribs. Stupid, you think, you shouldn’t be crying over something like this. But it happens anyway as tears starts streaming down your face before you even realise what’s happening.

It started earlier. You’d caught your reflection in the mirror and for a second you had seen yourself the way you feared everyone else did. wrong. Lacking. Not enough. You ignored it at first, shoved it down, swallowed the bitter taste of self-doubt like it was nothing. But then it came back.

You thought Ford wouldn't notice, being too busy in his studies. But in the perfect silence of the Shack, your quiet sobs sounded louder than his own breathing.

“Darling,” Ford sets his book aside without hesitation. “come here.” his voice, as always sounds so quiet and calm, but it’s the way he holds out his arms that undoes you completely. There’s no question, no hesitation, just him, offering warmth, safety, attention, care.

So you go, you let yourself sink into his lap, curling up against his chest and the moment his arms come around you, your sobs break free. You press your face into his sweater, gripping the fabric and shut your eyes tightly.

Ford just holds you. No words, no shushing, he doesn’t rush you, doesn’t tell you to stop crying, doesn’t try to fix you. One arm wrapped around your waist, the other cradling the back of your head as he lets you cry, lets you bury yourself in his warmth, lets you be small in his arms. And you cry a little harder because no one’s ever done this before, not like this. No one’s ever let you be messy and sad and vulnerable and still held you like you’re worth something.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs after a while, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. ”talk to me. What’s wrong?”

You shake your head because the words feel ridiculous and too embarrassing. But Ford just waits patiently, his hand never stopping its slow motions against your back.

After a while you whisper. “i. . . don’t feel pretty enough.”

Ford stays silent. The sentence you said doesn’t compute, the equation is missing a crucial variable. His brain thinks. You've just said something factually incorrect.

He is quiet long enough that you regret saying anything at all.

“Not pretty enough?” you wince at how ridiculous it sounds when he says it. You stay silent again. “talk to me, please, you’re too important to me to watch you do this to yourself.” last words didn’t come out the way he had planned, but it doesn't matter. The sadness in your eyes is enough to make him want to shield you from everything that ever made you doubt yourself.

“I don’t know, Ford, sometimes i just feel. . . just not enough.”

Ford takes a deep sigh and pulls back to see your face. His hands come up, six fingers framing your cheeks gently.

“But, love,” he brushes away the lingering tears on your skin. “who put that idea in your head?”

“Just. . . my brain, i guess.”

Ford frowns at that response, trying to figure out how to undo that thought that’s been rooted in you for too long.

“Listen to me, you are the most stunning, breathtaking person i have ever had the privilege of knowing.”

You sniffle, trying to look away, but he doesn’t let you, tilting your chin up until you meet his gaze.

“Not just beautiful,” he continues, “though you are, undeniably. But everything. Your mind, your heart, the way you see the world, i have never known anyone like you. And i never will. You are brilliant and strong in ways i could never hope to be.”

You avoid his gaze, looking down despite his tries to keep your eyes on him. Ford notices, of course he does, he always does and before you can fall apart all over again, he kisses you. So soft, a gentle press of his warm lips, reassuring you. “I wish you could see yourself the way i see you.” he says quietly into your lips. But you shake your head and pull away, laughing through your tears, feeling how emotions overwhelm you again.

“Ford, no—“

“No,” he interrupts and you notice how his voice gets more serious. “you need to hear this. After spending thirty years traveling through dimensions, seeing entire different galaxies and universes, watching alien creatures with more eyes than you can count, none of them, not a single one of them, come close to how breathtakingly beautiful you are.”

You make a small, broken sound and Ford just holds you closer as he continues. You’re speechless, heart hammering in your chest.

“And don’t get me started on physics,” he laughs softly, pulling you against his chest and caressing your hair. “you are more fascinating than a perfectly symmetrical snowflake viewed under a microscope. More miraculous than the way hydrogen atoms fused together for billions of years just to create you. Darling, i’ve held technology so advanced it blurred the line between magic and science. But none of it, none of it, has ever left me as breathless as you do.”

He’s so serious, absolutely devastatingly serious. You don't know if it's the exhaustion or the overwhelming love in his genuine voice, but another real sob breaks out of you before you can stop it as you hug him tighter.

“I really. . . just really wish you could see yourself the way i see you. You are the most extraordinary thing i have ever encountered and i have traveled across the multiverse.” and it's damn truth because when Ford looks at you, he sees more than just a person. He sees a universe, complex and ever-expanding, a mystery he will spend his lifetime trying to understand and yet, always be awed by.

Your chest is aching. It’s too much, he’s too much. So you do the only thing you can think of. You kiss him. It's kinda messy, still wet with your tears, but Ford doesn’t care because the second your lips touch his, he pours all his feelings into it, one hand tangling in your hair, the other gripping your waist, pulling you closer until there is no space left between you, reminding you of just how much he cherishes you, in every universe, in every corner of space and time.

And that's all you ever needed, to be held like the most beautiful thing in his entire universe.

“If the universe is infinite, then so is my love for you. If the stars will burn for billions of years, then let me love you for all of them.”

Ford cradles you against his chest, rocking you in his arms in a slow, soothing motion to calm his beloved. And for the first time in a long time, the voice in the back of your mind, telling you you're not enough, fades away replaced with the warmth of Ford's love.

“So, no, honey. I don't want to hear you ever say you’re not pretty again. Not when you're the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen. Not when i know you are worth more than every star, every dimension, every equation in existence.” you pull him closer, feeling the steady beat of his heart as you close your eyes, smiling softly.

The first rule of observation is to watch closely, to notice every detail, to understand what no one else does. And Stanford notices everything about you.

#gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #ford pines x reader #stanford pines #ford x reader #ford pines x you #stanford pines x you #gravity falls x you #stanford pines headcanons #stanford pines x reader

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nkplanet · 2 days ago

Text

JUST A TOUCH

castiel x gn!reader cw all fluff with the tiniest smidge of angst, touch starved cas (he cries a lil but they’re happy tears)

notes just a short one bc i thought about cas earlier and started spontaneously weeping (also i wrote this on my phone so the formatting might be weird and it’s not proofread oops)

it wasn’t often that you and cas got time alone, especially not with sam and dean around. when you did spend time together, it was usually quality time - parallel play, some would call it. you’d sit together, each doing separate activities, or just talking. occasionally you’d lay together in bed, simply taking time to be. cas had never been a particularly touchy person (or rather, angel), and you were okay with that. you respected that.

when he came to you one day, asking for a hug, you were a little shocked to say the least. you gave him one, of course, but the way in which he’d approached you, the way he’d asked you - it was nothing like the cas you knew at all. beneath the rush of affection you felt, concern lingered.

he hugged you softly at first, then gripped you tighter. you reciprocated, your own grip practically squeezing the life out of him. it didn’t take long for you to grow more worried. he wasn’t letting go. in fact, he seemed to be holding on ever so slightly tighter, clearly wanting more while staying aware of his own strength.

“cas?” you asked, voice as soft as you could manage, “are you okay?”

he gripped you tighter, letting out a soft sniffle. worry shot through your chest and you pulled away slightly, cupping his face. there were tear stains on his cheeks, his eyes were wet, and his hair was messy. any other time you’d make a comment about how beautiful he looked, but now you were admittedly scared for him.

“cas,” you whispered, hands cupping his cheeks and fingers wiping at his tears, “what’s wrong?”

he took a deep breath. “i cannot explain it,” he said, clearing his throat, “i’m not sure myself.”

“that’s okay, we can sit for a while - give you time to think, if you want?” you responded, leading him to a nearby loveseat.

“when you hugged me, i felt an overwhelming sensation. i don’t know… i can’t figure out what it was, but i wasn’t sad. you - your hug - i think it made me so happy that i couldn’t help it,” he said, taking a while to carefully articulate his words. all the while you sat next to him - practically on his lap - with a gentle hand resting on his shoulder. though he couldn’t make eye contact with you, you looked at his face the entire time.

“aw, cas,” you cooed, a hand moving to cup his neck. “y’know you can ask for a hug anytime, right? you don’t have to wait until you need one.”

“i… am aware. i just didn’t think i would be this affected,” he said, a hand absentmindedly moving to your knee.

“everybody needs hugs sometimes. just because you’re this big, important angel doesn’t mean you’re an exception.”

he wrapped an arm carefully around your shoulders, pulling you in again. your arms wrapped around his waist while his free hand rested on the small of your back. he buried his face in your shoulder, breathing deeply.

“thank you,” he whispered, his voice muffled. “i will seek this out with you more often, love.”

you smiled softly, relishing in the warmth and comfort that radiated off him. perhaps you both needed this, despite neither wanting to admit to it.

“i’ll look forward to it.”

#vee’s fics ⚝#castiel #castiel x reader #castiel fluff #castiel angst #castiel comfort #supernatural #supernatural x reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #nkplanet 🪐#nkplanet’s fics 🪐

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callmeizukunotdeku · 1 day ago

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Jason starts working with the Bats and he feels guilty. He is guilty.

Sure, he wasn't in his right mind during the Tower incident, not entirely, but he was in his right mind when he was planning it. The Pit could only take over for so long.

So maybe, when things start to get better between him and the bats, he takes up a case with Robin.

It's an easy case, but he's still impressed by how quickly Robin solves it.

Maybe Tim smiles when he solves the case and Jason ruffles his hair and tells him he did a good job--because god, Tim's just a kid; how could he not?

And maybe Tim keeps coming back after that.

Maybe Tim keeps solving all of Red Hood's cases before Jason can. Maybe Tim keeps taking over for Jason and maybe Jason starts to feel less guilty and more pissed off because he knows that he never fully thought things through as Robin and he knows that Bruce took on Tim as Robin because he did. He knows Tim is the smart Robin, but Tim has neither the right nor reason to rub it in his face, so maybe he snaps at Tim--tells him to get the fuck out of sight, tells him that he might not be the smartest person in the room but he's not some fucking idiot, tells him that he knows what he's doing and he doesn't need some fucking kid just going around solving his cases for him. Maybe, Jason tells Tim that he's not needed.

And maybe the guilt comes back when Tim leaves with tears in his eyes.

But, Jason thinks, all the guilt in the world isn't enough to override the anger and let Tim back in, not after he called Jason an idiot with everything but his words.

And then, maybe Jason is working a case and it expands past his territory and he finds himself in the cave, working with Batman. Maybe neither of them can solve it and Tim walks in, excitedly talking to Dick about something. (Jason isn't listening too closely.)

Maybe Bruce calls Tim over and Jason flinches--he didn't remember Bruce ever being that harsh when he was Robin.

Maybe Tim solves the case and Bruce turns back to Jason and starts planning their next step without so much as a thank you.

Maybe it's odd, to Jason, how Bruce and Tim don't act like a Batman and Robin to each other, and that thought sticks with him, bugging him whenever he has a quiet moment, so maybe a week or two passes before he asks Dick about it.

Maybe Dick's smile is sad when he explains how they've always been like that. Tim, always striving for attention, Bruce never giving it. Maybe Bruce's standards rose above what was physically possible in the wake of Jason's death and maybe Dick sobs himself to sleep every once in a while because that hasn't stopped tim from trying.

Maybe Tim was okay for a bit whenever Dick was in town because he could help Dick on cases and Dick would smile and applaud every little thing he did, but Dick lived in a different city, so Tim couldn't help as much with Dick's cases as he could with Bruce's.

Maybe, Dick says something under his breath--a passing comment about how surprised he is that Tim didn't come to Jason and try to solve all his cases just for a kind word or two, hoping that maybe the Red Hood's love of kids and their happiness would extend to him.

Maybe Jason feels his stomach drop as the final piece of the puzzle clicks in place--how at first, Tim came with cases every so often, smiled and leaned in whenever Jason said a kind word to him, and how, when Jason started thinking that Tim was doing this to spite Jason was when he stopped giving that praise to Tim, which had the boy solving more and more cases for him, working harder and harder without being asked just so that maybe--maybe Jason would tell him he did a good job. Jason wondered just how far Tim would go if someone promised him a smile.

Maybe the guilt is too much for him and he pushed it down, only saying, "I don't think he'd risk it--not after the Tower."

Maybe Dick has something sad in his eyes when he says, "He's done more for less."

Maybe Jason tries again to bring Tim into his cases, but Tim refuses, promises not to intrude, promises he learned his lesson, and maybe Jason cries because Tim has never asked for an apology after Titan's Tower, but one hint that he's overstepped and Tim begs forgiveness.

Maybe Jason focuses a little too much on how to bring Tim closer--make him feel loved again and make it clear that Jason just didn't understand what Tim that Tim was trying to help--make sure Tim knew he was welcome.

But maybe Tim refused.

And maybe, Jason got so focused on Tim that he stopped focusing on patrol and got over his head. Maybe, just on pure happenstance, Tim was nearby that night and he couldn't let anything happen to his Robin.

Maybe Tim swooped in to save the day and Jason grabbed onto his wrist when he tried to leave.

Maybe Tim apologized but Jason just pulled him in and hugged him--a full hug, one arm around Tim's back, the other, tucking Tim's head into his chest, and maybe Jason said, "Thank you so much, Robin. I needed you to save me."

Maybe Tim cried when it happened. Maybe, under his mask, Jason was crying as well. Maybe, they got closer after that, Jason, needing to be trusted to care for something and Tim just needing to be cared for.

And it takes time, but maybe there comes a day when Jason looks Tim in the eye and tells him that he's important and valuable and incredibly loved regardless of whether or not he's needed. Maybe it take a few years before Tim believes him, and when he does, he hugs Jason and cries into his arms, but it's okay because Jason knew it would happen sooner or later, and it's okay, it's okay, he has tissues.

Maybe Jason apologizes for what happened at the Tower and Tim admits that he forgave him for that a while ago.

Maybe.

Who could say for sure?

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tomriddlehyperfixataion · 2 days ago

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Through time and space; you're Mine.

Summary; Alt end to 'The girl who shattered time!' instead of staying, (y/n) goes back to her time, only everything is different. Way different.

warnings; Tom Riddle(way more on point in this version), obsessive Tom, possessive Tom, referenced murder and implied murder, horcruxes used to make 'kids' so Tom can have 'you.'

i like how this came out, its not long! hardly even 2,500 words! but it feels good so i left it where it was~ the requester of the girl who shattered time did request an alt end but their idea was different and i wasnt, really into it? so i did this instead because this feels...more like Tom. enjoy!

“Please stay,” he said, achingly, pleadingly, his jaw clenching horribly as he stepped towards her-she stepped back-he stopped.

“What?” she asked, and she watched as the sound of her voice made his eyes flutter and he took a deep breath, holding the diary with both hands.

“Stay. Please.” He said again, begging. “Don’t go back to your time-don’t go back to…that war. Don’t go where I can’t follow.” He whispered, looking up at her.

“How can you ask that?” she whispered, clenching her jaw, fists tight at her sides. “You saw it all, you know why I can't stay, you know why I’ve been avoiding you-why I want to go back.”

Tom’s eyes were hard yet sad-anger, not at her, filling his face.

“I won't stay with someone who becomes…him.” (y/n) said, not even daring to say the name and Tom nearly flinches, his eyes going back down to his diary, trembling.

“If you go back. I’ll find you.” he says, voice low and dark with promise, looking up at her-his gaze intense. “I'll find you, no matter what-I’ll track you down.” He steps closer and (y/n) backs away, gasping as he grabs her wrist and pulls her close- the diary falling to the floor, his eyes locked onto hers.

“I’ll make you mine again, I don’t care what I have to do, who I have to get through-I will find you, and we will be together again.” (y/n) shakes her head, panic filling her whole body, she does not want to be with Voldemort, she didn’t want him-she didn’t want this.

She slaps him with her free hand and his head snaps to the side-his eyes going wide, before turning back on her as she runs back towards the dorms. “You can’t escape me (y/n)!” he roars, knowing he couldn’t chase her into the girls dorms, the barrier keeping him away from her. “I will find you! you will be mine again! Dark lord or not-I will have you!”

He loved her. And he would never let her go.

She rushes out of the Slytherin common room before sunrise, panting heavily as she books it down the hall towards Dumbledore’s office, tears in her eyes as she rapidly knocks on the door and he opens it. “ah-I have yet to leave for the ministry Ms-are you okay?” Dumbledore's voice turns to concern as (y/n)’s shoulders jump with a sob and she slumps into him as the weight of everything crashes into her.

Tom’s ‘promise’, the threat of the war, returning to a world where she’d be hunted down-it’s all too much.

But still-she wants to go home. She wants to see her friends again, and if need by-die next to them.

Dumbledore hugs her and after the sun rises, he goes to the ministry through the floo network, (y/n) curled up on the seat in front of his desk until he and a ministry worker returned-holding the time turner that would send her back. “Okay, you traveled back in the defense class room right?” the ministry worker asked, following Dumbledore to the DADA classroom.

(y/n) nods, quietly standing beside Dumbledore as he unlocked the DADA classroom and the three entered, the ministry worker handing her the time turner. “All right, here you go, just finish the loop and it’ll send you to your time, and then to send it back to us-just take it off and leave it in a safe spot and the time turners fail safe will send it back to us. Understood?”

(y/n) nodded again, putting on the time turner and lifting the two ends in her fingers, twisting it to complete the loops and she felt her stomach turn as she was sent forward in time-May 2nd, 1998. She landed in the DADA classroom-it was untouched by the chaos that sent her here in the first place so she quickly took the time turner off and put it in a safe spot-near the book cases, far away from where she’d gone back the first time.

She looks at the desk that she’d knocked over that held the original time turner, sneaking over and opening all the drawers-eventually finding the time turner that had sent her back. She looks up as she hears someone approach the door and quickly hides. Except…there's no blast of magic or chaos of battle.

Instead, there’s hushed whispers, and light laughter. “Go go-“ a voice whispers, one that is vaguely familiar. (y/n) peeks around her hiding spot, seeing herself sneaking into the DADA classroom, a group of girls-her friends from this era, including Luna, oh goodness it’s so good to see her-all watching her sneak in. (y/n)’s brows furrow, why was this so different? It should’ve been the same, right?

She’d expected to return to the battle of Hogwarts but…there seemed to be no battle…What changed?

She looked back at her past…alternate self and she tripped in the darkness, knocking open the desk drawer and it slid out completely-making a loud noise and then things began to whirl around-past/alt (y/n) gasping and then she was gone-the broken time turner sending her to the past.

…HUH?!

(y/n) stared in shock-this was not how it happened at all! She’d been chased and blasted into the room by snatchers! Not dared to sneak around and then accidently knocked the desk over!? What happened?! What changed so much! Her friends all rushed into the room-whispering out her name in worry and (y/n) winced, coming out of her hiding space.

“uh-something went wrong.” She said and the girls all screamed and jumped-eyes wide as they looked at her.

After a long moment, and some panic-(y/n) was able to explain, sorta. She explained that she’d been sent back in time by a broken time turner and she’d just gotten back from the 1940s, only to see how she got sent back in time but-differently.

It was a bit confusing to explain but her friends, especially Luna, took it in stride and soon (y/n) was back in her dorm, lying her ravenclaw bed-finally her bed.

Things had changed in this world.

After some digging from her friends-who took her questioning in stride since the timeline (y/n) knew was now gone.

There was no Boy who lived. That was a shock to see her friends be confused when asked about Harry Potter-to them, Harry was just a regular boy, no lightning scar, no dead parents-captain of the quidditch team and all.

“what-what about-death eaters?” (y/n) asked and her friends looked terribly confused.

“What In the world was happening in your timeline?” her friend Ruby asked and (y/n) slumped back onto her bed, eyes wide.

No death eaters. No boy who lived.

…no…Voldemort? She sat up, asking if they heard that name before-their reaction this time was different.

“oh yeah-Minister Voldemort? He’s been minister for magic for nearly 30 years now,” Irene said and (y/n) nearly fell out of her bed.

Minister for Magic Voldemort-not dark lord. What in the actual fuck?!

“I need to sleep.” (y/n) croaked and her friends agreed, Luna giving her a hug and a necklace to keep the wackspurts away. “Thanks Luna, I missed you.” (y/n) said softly, hugging her friend back and Luna hummed, floating back over to her bed, brushing through her wavy hair.

(y/n) laid back in her bed, struggling to sleep.

What had changed? Tom had said he’d find her-and yet it seemed this world was so much better. Voldemort now minister for magic-but she’d have to find out if this was a good thing or not in the morning.

She needed sleep.

She heads right for the library in the morning, clad in her Ravenclaw uniform once more and her bracelet from Julia feeling strangely heavy on her wrists. She pours over recent history textbooks, finding newspapers from the last 50 years in search of finding what changed.

1943-a girl dies in the Hogwarts bathroom; rumored to be killed by the Chamber of secrets monster, a student is expelled-blamed for the girls death, an accident. Prefect Tom Riddle is praised for his heroism in finding the culprit.

(y/n) swallows harshly, looking at the picture of Tom, he looks angry, beneath the proud look on his face that seems forced. Anger that simmers beneath the surface, heartbreak.

She looks through more newspapers.

1945-world war 2 ends, Grindelwald is defeated by Dumbledore.

1950- a woman named Hepzibah Smith is poisoned by her elf

1954- Tom Riddle-youngest to run for ministry for Magic, supported by the rich and famous pureblood families-such as the Malfoy’s, Black’s, Lestrange’s, Flint’s, and Rosier’s.

1955- Youngest Minister for Magic; Tom Riddle.

1960- Minister Tom Riddle; while no interest in marriage, reveals newborn son, named after him. Tom Riddle Jr.

1961-Tom Riddle once again elected for Minister of Magic.

1970-Youngest Minister for Magic changes name to Voldemort, support from purebloods is great for Voldemort ‘abandoning’ his Muggle birth name.

1968- Voldemort is elected as Minister once again.

And so on and so forth.

(y/n) rips through newspapers like a wild animal-searching for anything that can tell her why things changed so much. Had Tom really given up on the whole ‘dark lord’ thing? Instead going for a more diplomatic way of taking power? Becoming the minister for magic?

She pulls up another newspaper. 1982- Minister for Magic proudly announces his Grandson, Tom Riddle the third. She looks at the picture, it’s Voldemort, uncomfortably human looking-a silver fox if one to describe him, though he has a slight…oddness to him-standing beside him was his ‘son’ Tom Riddle Jr; who was in his early 20’s, hardly even 21 actually-holding a newborn boy.

All three looked exactly the same-like they weren’t truly born, but copies.

(y/n) looks at the date again. 1982. January.

Something nags at the back of her head-telling her something was wrong.

She looks through the papers again. Her heart freezes.

1982-Headmaster Dumbledore passes away, Deputy Headmaster McGonagall to take his place. Cause of death unknown, found dead in office on the morning of June 15th-only days before the school year ended.

That was the exact day Dumbledore died in the original time line-except more than 10 years earlier. Voldemort had been the one to order his death before-he must’ve waited until Dumbledore's guard was down to kill him-this time also having a new vendetta against him-for sending her back.

She leaned back on her heels, newspapers everywhere around her, the one about Dumbledore's death tight in her hands.

Voldemort was minister for magic-he’d had two copies, one son and one grandson, the grandson her age.

She didn’t know how, but this was all a way to get to her-to find her and have her. He knew she’d never accept her as Voldemort, but if he had copies-younger versions of himself, one the exact same as she left him-then she’d have no choice.

“You seem antsy,” A chillingly familiar voice came from just next to her and she glanced-yelping at the sight of Tom’s face in hers; almost the exact same as she left it not a day before-but for him? Almost 50 years ago. “Woah, jumpy much darling?”

Tom teased, picking up newspapers with a flick of his wand-this one dark brown in color, snakes and (fav flowers) carved into the wood.

“Wha-how-you-“ (y/n) panted, back pressed against the table edge of a bookcase as Tom stalked towards her, his eyes almost…red under the dim lighting.

“Oh, my love-did you really think I wouldn’t find you?” Tom said softly, almost eerie-he traps her against the table, arms on either side of you. “You’ve read it all, haven’t you? Seen what we’ve done for you?”

Tom whispers, forehead against hers, his eyes intense and terrifying as he slowly grips her face in his hand-it’s cold. “You feared the dark lord, feared to return to war and death-I stopped it all. Can't you see? You don’t have to be afraid anymore. Not of me.”

“How are you here?” She asks-voice cracking from the swell of emotions she feels and Tom smiles-its unsettling- pressing a kiss to the corner of her lips, his arm wrapping around her to keep her close.

“Oh, my dear, Horcruxes can be used for so much more than immortality. I was the first.” He pulled out the diary from his uniform inner pocket, pressing it to her upper chest, his eyes still intense on her. “I made this, so when I found you again-I had all my memories of you. Voldemort, or as everyone thinks him to be-my grandfather, birthed me from a simple-allowed me to be born with you.”

He kissed her cheek, soft but it felt wrong and (y/n) pushed at him, but he didn’t budge. “Don’t you see my love?” he whispered against her ear, the diary achingly cold against her neck as he pushes it up against her throat. “I did this for you. I split my soul for you-to be with you. You don’t have to fear me, or Voldemort-we did it all for you.”

“You’re insane.” (y/n) spits at him and he coldly smiles, thumb brushing over her lip-pulling at it slightly.

“I’m a man in love, insanity is only the tip of it.” he whispered, eyes on her lips, flickering between deep brown and red. Snake-like. “we did it for you-there is no war, there is no boy who lived-I kept peace, for you.” he said, his lips connecting with hers in a cold kiss, his hand leaving the diary to cup her head, not letting her pull away.

Her eyes snapped closed-tears burning-her hands fisting into the fabric of his uniform sleeves.

She hates that it still feels so good to kiss him. He pulls away, feeling her tears on his face and he wipes them gently with his thumb, kissing them away. “Don’t be afraid my love-there's nothing more to fear. There is no dark lord, only me.” Tom murmurs and (y/n) sniffled, allowing him to brush her bangs back-both her eyes now on him. His thumb runs over his scar-which was growing fainter as time went on.

“He never touched you.” Tom whispers, her brows furrow-unsure of what he meant and Tom smiles-still intense. “Your uncle, he never touched you-i-or well ‘my father’, killed him before he could even think about touching you.”

(y/n)’s breath stutters in her chest as Tom holds her close-now in a hug, his head tucked against hers. “no one will hurt you again. Including me.” He whispers, clutching tight to her robes and she gasps for breath, unsure of how to handle-anything that was going on.

“I’ll never let you go.” He whispers, a finality to it.

She knows that he’d make sure to keep that promise, whether she wanted it or not.

-end of alt end-

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #tom riddle imagine #diary tom riddle #angst #note; if you're into it-yes the three would probably 'share' her #this version of voldy only made three horcruxes-the diary the locket and the ring #the locket currently is his only object horcrux that is still within the object #the ring was 'birthed' to make it logical for voldy to have a grandson in (y/n)'s time #and the diary of course was 'birthed' in 1981 so he could be with (y/n)#but yeah if you're into it voldy Tom jr and Tom 3rd share her #have fun with your imagiation~

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