#i don't know how to best trigger warn for this topic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rvp32 · 5 months ago

Text

The Extents We Reach for Friendship

This is super messy. I honestly wrote this in between writing another series that I will upload soon but I really hope the person who put in an ask for this enjoys it. Sorry for the delay. As always any and all feedback is appreciated! No trigger warnings it is pretty chill.

You're in the dimly lit living room of your Seoul apartment, the soft glow of the cityscape through the window casting shadows on the walls. Sana sits next to you on the couch, her eyes fixed on the TV screen but her mind clearly elsewhere. Her hand rests gently on her lap, fingers occasionally tapping nervously.

"Honey," she begins softly, breaking the silence that had settled between you, "I've been thinking a lot about what we talked about last week."

Your heart skips a beat as you turn to face her, knowing exactly what she's referring to. The conversation was about starting a family, her inability to conceive, and the difficult decisions that followed. You nod, encouraging her to continue, your voice cautious when you reply, "I know, Sana. It's a lot to process."

She sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly, "I just... I want this so much, you know? A part of me feels like it's all slipping away, and I don't know how to hold onto it."

Reaching out, you take her hand in yours, squeezing gently, "We'll find a way, Sana. We always do."

Her gaze shifts towards the door, where a soft knock interrupts the moment. You both glance at each other, confusion etched on your faces before Sana stands up, smoothing out her dress as she walks towards the entrance. She opens the door to reveal Miyeon, her best friend, standing there with a hesitant smile.

"Hey, guys," Miyeon says, her voice soft as she steps inside, closing the door behind her. "Sana, you texted me earlier?"

Sana nods, her expression serious as she leads Miyeon to the couch, sitting down beside you again. "Yeah, I did. There's something important we need to talk about."

Miyeon's eyebrows furrow in concern, "What's going on?"

Taking a deep breath, Sana looks directly at Miyeon, her voice steady despite the weight of the topic, "It's about our situation. About us wanting a child, and... well, my doctor said it's nearly impossible for me to conceive naturally."

Miyeon's eyes widen, her hand flying to her mouth in surprise. "Oh, Sana, I had no idea. That's... that's really tough."

Sana nods, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, "It is. But there's another option we've been considering. Something... unconventional."

You watch as Miyeon processes this information, her gaze flickering between you and Sana, uncertainty clear in her expression. "What are you thinking?"

Sana takes another deep breath, her voice barely above a whisper, "We were wondering if... if you'd be willing to help us. To carry our baby."

The room falls silent, the weight of Sana's proposal hanging heavily in the air. Miyeon looks stunned, her lips parted as she struggles to find words. After what feels like an eternity, she finally speaks, her voice trembling, "You mean... like, surrogacy?"

Sana shakes her head, her eyes pleading, "No, not exactly. More like... well, we were thinking if you'd be open to... to being impregnated by Y/N. To have our baby together."

Miyeon gasps, her hand covering her mouth as she stares at Sana, then at you, her mind racing. "I... I don't know what to say. This is... it's a lot to take in."

Sana reaches out, taking Miyeon's hand in hers, "I know it is. And it's okay if you need time to think about it. But please, just consider it. For us, for the family, we want so badly."

Miyeon looks down, her fingers intertwining with Sana's as she contemplates the offer. The room is thick with tension, each second stretching out as they wait for her response. Finally, Miyeon lifts her head, her eyes meeting Sana's, "I... I need to think about this. Can I give you an answer later?"

Sana nods, relief washing over her features, "Of course, take all the time you need. Just... let us know when you're ready."

Miyeon stands up, her movements slow as she gathers her things. "I'll call you soon, okay? I just... I need some space right now."

You and Sana nod, watching as Miyeon heads towards the door, her footsteps heavy with contemplation. As the door closes behind her, Sana turns to you, her eyes filled with a mix of hope and anxiety.

"Do you think she'll agree?" she asks softly, her voice tinged with desperation.

You pull her into your arms, holding her close, "I don't know, love. But whatever happens, we'll face it together."

As you hold each other, the weight of the decision looms large, the future uncertain but hopeful. The night stretches on, each second filled with thoughts of what might come next, of the possibilities that lie ahead.

*****

The following day, the sun filters through the blinds of your apartment, casting a warm glow across the room. You're in the kitchen preparing breakfast when the doorbell rings. Sana, who's still in bed, sends you a sleepy glance as you head to the door. Opening it, you find Miyeon standing there, her expression a mix of determination and nervousness.

"Hey," she says softly, stepping inside. "Can we talk?"

You nod, leading her to the living room where Sana joins you a few minutes later, her hair tousled from sleep. The three of you sit down, the air thick with anticipation.

Miyeon clears her throat, meeting both of your eyes before speaking, "I've thought about what you asked, and... I want to help."

Sana's face lights up, her eyes glistening with tears of gratitude. "Are you sure? It's a big decision."

Miyeon nods, her voice firm, "I am. I care about both of you and if this is what you want, then I'm willing to do this for us."

You reach out, taking Miyeon's hand in yours, squeezing gently. "Thank you, Miyeon. We don't know how to thank you enough."

She smiles, her cheeks flushing slightly, "Let's just say it's for the sake of our friendship and creating something beautiful together."

The conversation shifts to practicalities, discussing medical procedures and timelines. But as the discussion winds down, the atmosphere changes, becoming charged with a different kind of energy. Sana looks at you and Miyeon, her eyes filled with a mix of desire and tenderness.

"Maybe... maybe we should start now?" she suggests, her voice barely above a whisper.

Miyeon glances at you, her eyes questioning, "Is that what you want?"

You nod, feeling your heart race as you stand up, extending your hand to Miyeon. She takes it, standing up as well, her body brushing against yours. Sana stands too, her hands reaching out to cup your faces, pulling you into a soft kiss.

The kiss deepens, fueled by the emotions swirling around the room. You wrap your arms around Sana, feeling Miyeon's hands on your back, her touch electric. The three of you move as one, heading towards the bedroom, each step a promise of shared intimacy.

In the bedroom, the lights are dimmed, casting shadows that dance along the walls. You lie down on the bed, Sana beside you, Miyeon between you. Her fingers trace patterns on your chest, her eyes locked onto yours. Sana kisses your neck, her tongue flicking lightly, sending shivers down your spine.

Miyeon leans in, her lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. Her tongue explores your mouth, the taste of her sweet and intoxicating. You feel Sana's hands on your thighs, slowly moving upward, her touch gentle yet insistent.

You break the kiss with Miyeon, turning to Sana, and capturing her lips in another fiery exchange. Miyeon moves down, her hands sliding under your shirt, her fingertips grazing your skin. You gasp, the sensation overwhelming, your body responding to their combined touches.

Sana pulls away, her eyes dark with desire, "Take off your clothes, all of you."

You obey, shedding your clothes quickly, revealing your arousal. Sana and Miyeon follow suit, their bodies exposed, each curve highlighted by the soft light. You stare, your breath catching in your throat, the sight of them together more erotic than anything you've imagined.

Sana lies down, pulling Miyeon with her, their bodies intertwining. You kneel beside them, your hand reaching out to stroke Miyeon's thigh. She moans, arching into your touch, her eyes closing briefly in pleasure.

"Touch me," she whispers, her voice husky.

You do, your fingers finding her sensitive spots, eliciting gasps and moans from her. Sana watches, her hand moving between her own legs, her breathing quickening as she pleasures herself. The sounds of their breaths and moans fill the room, the air thick with the scent of their arousal.

Miyeon turns, her back to you, her hands reaching behind to guide you inside her. You enter her slowly, watching her face contort with pleasure. Sana moves closer, her lips meeting Miyeon's in a deep kiss, her hand stroking your arm, encouraging you.

You thrust deeper, the rhythm building and each movement met with a sigh or a moan from Miyeon. Sana reaches between you, her fingers finding Miyeon's clit, rubbing in circles. Miyeon cries out, her body tensing, her orgasm hitting her hard.

You continue, your pace increasing, the heat between you intense. Sana moves, kneeling behind you, her hands on your shoulders, her mouth on your neck. She bites gently, the sensation driving you wild, pushing you closer to your own release.

Miyeon recovers, her hands guiding you to change positions. You lie down, Sana straddling your face, her wetness right above you. You lick, tasting her, the flavor is intense. Miyeon lowers herself onto you, her warmth enveloping you completely.

The room fills with the sounds of your moans and sighs, the intensity building with each passing moment. Sana grinds against your face, her movements synced with Miyeon's on top of you. You feel the pressure coiling inside you, the climax approaching fast.

Miyeon senses it, her movements becoming erratic, her body trembling. Sana reaches down, her fingers joining your efforts, pleasuring herself faster. The sensations overwhelm you, your release hitting you like a wave, Miyeon following soon after, her body shuddering with her orgasm.

Exhausted, you lie there, the three of you entangled, the air still heavy with passion. Sana kisses your forehead, her voice soft, "Thank you, both of you."

Miyeon smiles, her eyes sleepy, "No, thank you. For everything."

You pull them closer, the night wrapping around you like a blanket, each heartbeat slowing down to match the other's. The future might be uncertain, but for now, in this moment, you're complete, surrounded by the ones you love, the possibilities are endless.

*******

As the morning light filters through the curtains, Miyeon wakes up with a start, she feels sick, she immediately goes to the washroom and pukes. After which she takes a pregnancy test. Her eyes scan the kit, her heart pounding in her chest as she reads the result of the pregnancy test. A smile slowly spreads across her face, her relief and joy palpable. She turns to you and Sana, who is still asleep, and gently shakes you both awake.

"I'm pregnant," she screams, her voice trembling with emotion.

You sit up immediately, your eyes wide with excitement, while Sana lets out a soft cry, tears of happiness streaming down her cheeks. You pull Miyeon into a tight hug, the three of you embracing each other in a moment of pure joy.

Over breakfast, the conversation turns to celebration plans. "We should go somewhere special, just the three of us," Sana suggests, her eyes bright with anticipation.

"How about a weekend getaway? Somewhere secluded where we can relax and enjoy each other's company without any distractions?" you propose.

Miyeon nods enthusiastically, "I know just the place. It's a cabin by the lake, very private. We can even stargaze at night."

The plan is set, and within the week, you find yourselves driving along a winding road that leads to the secluded cabin. The air is crisp, filled with the scent of pine trees, and the silence is only broken by the occasional chirp of birds.

Upon arrival, the cabin exceeds your expectations—cozy, rustic, and perfectly equipped for a weekend of relaxation. The interior is warm and inviting, with a large window overlooking the serene lake.

As evening approaches, you prepare a simple yet delicious meal—grilled fish, fresh vegetables, and a bottle of wine. The dining area becomes a hub of laughter and storytelling, each memory shared deepening your bond.

After dinner, you decide to take a walk by the lake. The moon casts a silvery glow over the water, and the stars twinkle above like tiny beacons in the sky. Sana takes your hand, and Miyeon links arms with you, the three of you walking in comfortable silence, savoring the peacefulness of the night.

Back at the cabin, you build a fire in the outdoor fireplace, the flames dancing merrily as they chase away the chill. You settle onto a blanket spread on the ground, Sana nestled between you and Miyeon. The night sky stretches endlessly above you, a canvas of glittering stars.

Miyeon points out constellations, her voice soft and soothing in the quiet night. As she talks, you feel Sana's hand tracing small circles on your thigh, her touch sending shivers up your spine. You glance at her, catching her eye, and see the desire burning brightly in her gaze.

You shift closer to Sana, your lips meeting hers in a gentle kiss. The taste of her, sweet and familiar, sends a wave of heat through your body. Miyeon watches you, her eyes dark with passion, and leans in to join the kiss, her lips brushing against yours.

The world around you fades into insignificance as the three of you explore each other's mouths, the kisses growing deeper, more urgent. You reach out, your hands finding the hem of Miyeon's shirt, lifting it over her head. She helps you remove your clothes, the cool night air a stark contrast to the warmth of your skin.

Sana follows suit, her movements languid and sensual, her nakedness revealed under the starlight. Her body is a masterpiece, every curve highlighted by the flickering firelight. You admire her, your fingers trailing down her sides, eliciting a soft moan from her.

You lie down, the blanket beneath you soft and comforting. Sana lies between you and Miyeon, her back to you, your front pressed against her. Miyeon kneels beside you, her eyes locked onto yours, her hand reaching out to stroke your cheek.

"Make love to me," she whispers, her voice thick with desire.

You nod, your heart pounding as you position yourself above her. She guides you inside her, her warmth enveloping you completely. You move slowly at first, watching her face for signs of discomfort or pleasure. Her eyes close, her mouth forming a silent 'O', her hands gripping your arms tightly.

Sana turns, her lips finding Miyeon's in a deep kiss, her hand reaching between you to stroke Miyeon's clit. The sensation is overwhelming, Miyeon's moans filling the air, her body arching into your thrusts.

You increase your pace, the rhythm building, each movement met with a sigh or a moan from Miyeon. Sana reaches between you, her fingers finding Miyeon's sensitive spots, rubbing in circles. Miyeon cries out, her body tensing, her orgasm hitting her hard.

******

As the sun rises over the lake, casting a golden glow through the bedroom window, you awaken to the soft sounds of gentle moans and whispered words. Blinking away sleep, you see Sana and Miyeon entangled in each other's arms, their bodies moving together in a slow, sensual rhythm that fills the room with an erotic symphony.

Miyeon is on her back, her hair spread out like a dark halo on the pillow, while Sana hovers above her, her breasts swaying gently with each movement. Their eyes are locked, filled with a depth of emotion that speaks of shared secrets and unspoken desires. The air is thick with the scent of their arousal, a heady mix that mingles with the faint pine aroma from outside.

You watch, transfixed, as Sana lowers her head to kiss Miyeon, their lips meeting in a tender yet passionate exchange. The sound of their breathing, slightly ragged, fills your ears, stirring a deep longing within you. You reach out, your hand brushing against Sana's thigh, feeling the warmth of her skin under your touch.

Sana shifts slightly, making space for you, her eyes inviting you to join them. You move closer, your body fitting perfectly between Sana's legs as you lean in to kiss Miyeon, your tongue exploring her mouth with eager strokes. The taste of her, sweet and intoxicating, sends a surge of desire coursing through your veins.

Your hands roam over Miyeon's body, tracing the curves of her hips, the softness of her breasts, and the smoothness of her skin. Each touch elicits a soft moan from her, her fingers digging into the sheets beneath her. Sana watches you both, her hand moving down to stroke herself, her gaze hot with desire.

Encouraged by her response, you deepen the kiss, your tongue dancing with Miyeon's in a rhythm that mirrors the movements of your bodies. You feel the heat building between you, the tension coiling tighter with each passing moment.

Sana leans forward, her lips trailing down Miyeon's neck, leaving a trail of kisses that make Miyeon arch her back, her breath coming in short gasps. You take advantage of her momentary distraction, positioning yourself between her legs, your hardness pressing against her entrance.

Miyeon gasps as you enter her, her body welcoming you with a warmth that makes you shudder. You begin to move, slowly at first, watching her face for any sign of discomfort or pleasure. Her eyes close, her mouth forming a silent 'O', her hands gripping your arms tightly.

Sana moves around, her lips finding Miyeon's once more in a deep kiss, her hand reaching between you to stroke Miyeon's clit. The sensation is overwhelming, Miyeon's moans filling the air, her body arching into your thrusts.

Exhausted but content, you lay there, the three of you tangled in each other's arms, the afterglow of your passion wrapping around you like a warm blanket. The morning light filters through the window, illuminating your sweat-slick bodies, the room still filled with the echoes of your shared ecstasy.

"I love you both," Miyeon whispers, her voice hoarse with emotion.

"Forever," Sana adds, her fingers intertwining with yours.

You nod, unable to speak past the lump in your throat. The bond between you feels stronger than ever, a connection forged not just in passion but in love and trust. As you drift back to sleep, the world outside fades away, leaving only the three of you in your private paradise.

Sana's idea of filming this relationship sparks a mix of excitement and nervousness within you as she sets up the camera on a tripod near the bed. The room is bathed in the soft, natural light that filters through the curtains, creating a warm, intimate atmosphere. Miyeon watches her with a playful smile, her eyes twinkling with anticipation.

"Ready for this?" Sana asks, her voice a seductive whisper as she checks the camera angle.

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest, while Miyeon bites her lip, her hands moving to adjust the straps of her lingerie. The click of the camera starting up echoes softly in the room, capturing the moment.

Sana joins you on the bed, her fingers gently brushing against your skin as she leans in to kiss you. The taste of her lips is electric, sending shivers down your spine. You wrap your arms around her, pulling her closer, your bodies melding together seamlessly.

Miyeon watches the two of you, her gaze heated, before she crawls towards you, her hands gliding over your thighs. You shift slightly, making space for her between you and Sana, the warmth of her body pressing against yours. She kisses your neck, her tongue flicking out to tease the sensitive skin there, causing you to gasp.

The camera captures every detail—the way Sana's hair falls across her face, the flush on Miyeon's cheeks, the intensity in your eyes. It's both voyeuristic and deeply personal, a private glimpse into your shared world.

Sana breaks the kiss, her breath hot against your ear as she whispers, "Let's make this unforgettable."

Her hands move down, undoing the buttons of your shirt, revealing your bare chest to the cool air. You shrug it off, letting it fall to the floor as Miyeon's hands take over, her fingertips tracing patterns on your skin that ignite a fire within you.

You reach for Sana, your hands cupping her breasts, thumbs teasing her nipples until they harden under your touch. She moans, low and deep, her head tilting back as Miyeon continues her assault on your senses, her mouth now trailing down your chest, leaving a path of heat in its wake.

The camera records the scene, the lens capturing the flicker of desire in your eyes, the flush of arousal on Sana's skin, and the concentration in Miyeon's expression. It's raw, real, and incredibly erotic.

Miyeon looks up at you, her eyes dark with passion, and whispers, "I want you inside me."

Her words send a surge of urgency through you. You nod, shifting positions so that you're hovering above her, your hardness pressed against her entrance. She guides you in, her body welcoming you with a tight, hot embrace that makes you groan.

Sana moves to kneel beside Miyeon, her hand reaching out to stroke Miyeon's hair, her eyes locked on the scene unfolding before her. The camera pans, capturing the intimacy, the connection between the three of you.

You begin to move, slowly at first, watching Miyeon's face for any sign of discomfort or pleasure. Her eyes close, her mouth forming a silent 'O', her hands gripping your arms tightly. The sensation of being inside her, surrounded by her warmth, is overwhelming, each thrust met with a sigh or a moan from Miyeon.

Sana leans in, her lips finding Miyeon's once more in a deep kiss, her hand reaching between you to stroke Miyeon's clit. The added stimulation pushes Miyeon closer to the edge, her body arching into your thrusts.

You increase your pace, the rhythm building, each movement met with a sigh or a moan from Miyeon. The sound fills the room, mingling with the soft hum of the camera, creating a soundtrack to your passion.

Sana reaches between you, her fingers finding Miyeon's sensitive spots, rubbing in circles. Miyeon cries out, her body tensing, her orgasm hitting her hard. The sight of her climax sends you over the edge, your release hitting you like a wave, intense and all-consuming.

Exhausted but content, you lay there, the three of you tangled in each other's arms, the afterglow of your passion wrapping around you like a warm blanket. The camera continues to record, capturing the moment, and preserving the memory of this intense, intimate encounter.

Sana looks at the camera, a satisfied smile playing on her lips, and whispers, "Cut," her voice hoarse with emotion.

You turn to Miyeon, her eyes still closed, a serene smile on her face. You brush a strand of hair away from her face, your fingers lingering on her cheek. She opens her eyes, meeting your gaze, her smile widening.

"That was... incredible," she murmurs, her voice soft and dreamy.

Sana nods, her hand intertwining with yours, "A moment we'll never forget."

You agree silently, the weight of the experience settling over you. The camera, now silent, stands as a witness to your shared ecstasy, a testament to the bond between you. As you drift into a peaceful slumber, the room filled with the echoes of your shared passion, you know that this memory will stay with you forever, a cherished part of your journey together.

#minatozaki sana #sana smut #twice x reader #kpop smut #twice smut #pregnancy #miyeon smut #miyeon #gidle #gidle miyeon #asks

822 notes · View notes

cressidagrey · 3 months ago

Text

Stars all aligned - Chapter 7

Summary:

If there was one thing that both Azriel and Zahra Archeron had in common, it was that they were both very good at blending into the background.

They just never thought that their family were going to be the ones who never saw them at all.

Warning:

I'll keep the warnings, even though there is no outright mention in this part: Bashing of like...every IC member? Especially the Archeron Sisters, discussion of chronic pain, discussion of Infertility, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Underage Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please, take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

(Lovely dividers thanks to @sweetmelodygraphics)

"I want you out of Velaris, when I have a talk with them," Azriel broached the topic a few days later. Zahra just stared at him.

"I have nowhere else to go," she said drily.

She had the cottage and that was it. And her tries at winnowing…let’s just say she did not trust herself to winnow anywhere she didn’t know very well.

Azriel’s face was unreadable, but there was a tension in his shoulders, a tightness in his wings.

He was clearly on edge...but then, he had been for quite a while, whenever the topic of their family came up.

Whenever she told him about her life in the cottage and later as a maid at the Archeron Estate…he had looked murderous.

"I have a small cottage by the sea you can...stay in," Azriel suggested softly.

Zahra just stared at him. "You have a cottage by the sea," she echoed, amused besides herself.

Azriel moved to stand behind her, where she was washing dishes in the sink and he pressed a kiss against her cheek.

"I am just paranoid," he promised her. "Nothing bad will happen...But I would feel better if you are out of the city, if I get into a fight with Cassian and accidentally level it."

"That's not funny," she told him drily, but bit back a smile, especially as she leaned back against his broad chest, the dishes forgotten in the soapy water in the sink.

"At the coast?" she asked him softly. The coast sounded…nice.

"Rosehall," he explained. "It's...It's where my mother lives."

"Your mother?" she echoed, surprised.

Azriel nodded, his hands resting on her hips as he leaned down and buried his face in her neck.

"I bought it for her a long time ago," he murmured as his lips brushed against her skin. "It's...right there by a little hamlet we turned into a haven for displaced Illyrians. You can stay there...just until my brothers get the stick out of their asses and come to their senses."

Zahra let out a snort of laughter. “Sure, I will just wait around until your brothers come to their senses,” she said with a little smile, turning around and reaching up to brush away the stray strands of his dark hair from his forehead. “And how long do you think that is going to take?”

"Not long," he promised her. "And then I'll get started on your sisters," he promised her, pressing a kiss against her forehead and Zahra melted.

She loved the easy attention, the sweet little forehead kisses he dished out to her so often, nearly absentmindedly. The touch of his hands on hers…

She loved the way he smiled at her...just at her.

And yet…and yet she couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt at the mention of her sisters, even if she tried her best not to let it show.

“You are so sure of yourself,” she teased him, trying to keep her voice light as she rested her hands on his chest.

Azriel just smiled down at her, the expression in his eyes gentle, his wing shifting to wrap around her body as he pulled her against the hardness of his chest.

“We’ll get things figured out,” he murmured as one large hand moved up to run through her braid, smoothing back some of the messier strands. “You don’t need to worry.”

“You sound so confident,” she said, a smile playing on her lips despite herself as she took a moment to admire his handsome face, so close to hers.

His smile was a rare sight, his features so often schooled into a careful mask of neutrality, but as she studied his face she could see the warmth in his dark eyes, and she loved the way his lips curled up in their corners so slightly.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you are arrogant.”

He chuckled at that, and the low sound of his laughter vibrated through his chest.

“Are you calling me arrogant?” he asked, his wings shifting around them again, pulling her just a little bit closer to his body, the powerful muscles of those wings pressing against her back.

“Yes, I think I am,” she said with a smile, tilting her head up to look at him, her eyes flicking between the different shadows on his face.

His gaze held hers for a long moment, the corner of his lips still curled up, a teasing expression in his dark eyes.

“Arrogant and overconfident and insufferable,” she added jokingly and she felt the rumble of a silent laugh in his chest.

"Don't worry," he repeated. "It will be fine," he promised her evenly.

Zahra wished she only had one bit of his confidence

“And if it’s not?” she asked him quietly.

The tension was back in his shoulders, in the hands that were still resting on her hips.

His whole body grew taut in that second but his voice was even as he spoke. “This isn’t the first time we are having a heated disagreement. They’ll get over it.”

“Maybe,” she agreed grudgingly.

But something inside of her didn’t feel so sure, and her stomach was tied into knots at the thought of her sisters catching wind of what was going on between her and Azriel.

Still, if it calmed him...she filled a bag with clothing and toiletries, not that she owned much, and locked the door of her cottage after herself, just as Azriel offered her his hand...and then she dragged him to one of the flower stalls in the city, because she was not going to show up to meet his mother empty-handed.

“Flowers?” Azriel asked her, a smirk on his face as he looked at her with that amused look in his eyes.

She shot him a glare. “I am not going to pay a visit to your mother without carrying anything, and I don’t own a single bottle of wine, so flowers will have to suffice.”

He just shook his head at her, a look of exasperated fondness on his face as he let her lead him towards a stall with a colorful display and an array of wildflowers.

Flowers acquired, Zahra was ready to go to Rosehall.

"It's going to feel different than winnowing," Azriel warned her. "Just hold onto me."

Zahra just squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fingers around his...and a second later, she could taste sea salt in the air and feel icy illyrian air on her skin.

Even when summer had already arrived in Velaris, the same couldn’t be said here.

The icy cold air was a shock to her system as she was suddenly assaulted by the brutal cold, the sharp wind and the thick cloud cover.

Zahra stumbled on her feet as her knees nearly buckled from under her and she found herself clinging instinctively to Azriel’s arm, trying to find her footing as she took in her surroundings, blinking as the cold air was slapping against her face.

It was icy there.

She’d known that the coast was chilly, but she was not prepared for that kind of cold.

“You didn’t mention it was this cold,” Zahra said through chattering teeth.

"Let's get you inside," Azriel said quickly, pulling her from the forest where they had appeared, towards a grey stone cottage, nestled in the harsh terrain. If she stood on her tiptoes, she could just see the sea down over the cliffs...a couple more houses dotted around, as Azriel pulled her towards the one with smoke happily puffing out of the chimney.

Zahra had no chance to truly study it, before Azriel was pushing the door open wide and ushered her into the house.

The air inside was warm, a heavy sort of warmth that made it clear a fire had been lighting for a while in the stone fireplace that stood in one of the corners of the room.

Zahra was so relieved to get out of the biting chill of the air and she was about to take a look around, when a voice startled her.

"Azriel?" A female’s voice called, and just a moment later she appeared in the doorway of the kitchen.

For one moment Zahra was struck by how young she looked. If Zahra hadn't known better, she would have thought this was Azriel's sister and not his mother.

The dark hair, braided and pinned to her head, the same hazel brown eyes... the planes of her face were different though. Azriel must resemble his father more than her. But she was beautiful...even with a vicious, gnarly scar that destroyed the left side of her face.

“Hello, Ma,” Azriel said warmly.

"And you brought a guest," she said with a smile as her eyes settled on Zahra, studying her.

Zahra shifted, feeling suddenly very self-conscious and nervous, especially as the woman's eyes, so much like Azriel's, slowly appraised her from head to toe.

Azriel just stepped closer to her and placed his hand on the small of her back.

"Ma, I'd like you to meet Zahra Archeron, my Mate. Zahra, my mother Esmeray," he introduced them and a smile stretched over Esmeray's face, so bright and beautiful that her scar was forgotten. Surprised but…pleased.

Esmeray's eyes filled up with tears and she made a quick move forward, that nearly made Zahra flinch, but then she had already wrapped her arms around Zahra's shoulders, pulling her into a tight bear hug that nearly had Zahra stumbling from her feet again.

She got a whiff of a scent that had the same fresh and clean scent of Mist that Azriel must have inherited from her.

"Your Mate!" Esmeray exclaimed, as she pulled back and beamed at Zahra. "I'd given up hope of him ever finding his Mate,” she told Zahra conspiratorially. “But here you are!”

Azriel rubbed the back of his neck in that familiar nervous gesture, a slight flush in his face and a small smile on his lips.

Zahra, meanwhile, was still struck dumbfounded and all she could do was to give Esmeray a weak smile, when the female suddenly let go of her and turned to her son.

"I cannot believe it!" Esmeray said, her voice nearly a whisper, as she threw her arms around Azriel's neck.

He looked stiff for a moment, like he wasn’t quite used to being hugged, but then a smile appeared on his face and he relaxed in her embrace as he hugged her back.

She pulled back a few seconds later, still smiling up at him, her eyes wide, before she turned back to Zahra.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Zahra said quickly, as the woman's attention turned back to her.

Esmeray's smile only grew bright. "The pleasure is all mine. But look at me, I am being a terrible host," she said, before she took a step back and gestured towards the chairs around the fireplace. "Come, please sit down."

"I brought flowers," Zahra said hesitantly.

Esmeray's attention fell on the flowers and another smile appeared on her face. "How thoughtful," she said, a soft edge in her voice. "Such a sweet girl. But you didn't need to do that."

"She insisted," Azriel said drily.

That just made Esmeray chuckle, a sound that filled the room, warm and low.

“She has very good manners,” Esmeray told her son drily as she stepped to the small table to search for a vase.

Azriel just shot Zahra a little smile as he guided her to one of the chairs around the fire, and pulled out one of the chairs for her to sit down.

Zahra shot him a thankful look, even as her mind was still processing the fact that she had just met his mother. His lovely, kindhearted mother.

Zahra couldn't remember her own mother. At least not really. And Mrs. Archeron…she had hated the very air Zahra breathed. But Esmeray...

Azriel must have caught the look in her eyes, because he gave her an encouraging smile as he sat down beside her and took her hand in his.

His mother soon turned from the kitchen, the vase of wildflowers clutched in her hands as she set in on the table.

“They’ll look lovely on the windowsill,” she said as she took a seat at the table, that smile still on her face as she regarded them.

Zahra bit her lower lip. She had no idea how to handle this kind of situation. So much warmth inside this little house, so much love...she could feel the energy rolling off of Esmeray in waves.

Azriel squeezed her hand, his expression soft, as his mother observed them intently.

"So," Esmeray said a few seconds later, her eyebrows raising slightly. "You found your Mate."

Azriel inclined his head.

Zahra shifted uncomfortably in her chair, her stomach tying into all kinds of knots, as his mother's eyes moved between her and her son.

"You want to tell me the rest of what is going on?" Esmeray asked, her voice softer now. "I can see it on your face."

"I need to get back," Azriel said quietly. "Can Zahra stay with you for the night?"

"What happened?" Esmeray asked. "And of course, she can stay with me. What kind of question is that?" She said with a snort. “She’s your mate, she’s always welcome here.”

"We have a few...family problems," Azriel said drily. "I imagine that Rhysand will be ill-pleased with the mating bond snapping and her sisters are...being...difficult."

That was the understatement of the century.

Zahra sat there, shifting awkwardly in her seat as he spoke, but his mother’s attention remained on Azriel.

“Rhysand will get over himself, you know that,” Esmeray said with a shrug, as though waving away a minor inconvenience. "He always does, and he’s smart in many ways."

Azriel smiled at that, but the shadows in his eyes told a different story.

“And the sisters?” Esmeray asked.

There was a pause, then Azriel shifted uncomfortably. "They’re...adjusting," he said, his voice carefully level, his fingers tightening around Zahra’s.

"I am only their half sister," Zahra said carefully. "I am their father's bastard daughter."

Esmeray mustered her with dark eyes. "You do not need to say more," she said drily. “I can imagine the rest.”

It was strange how a feeling of acceptance washed over her at Esmeray’s words and Zahra stared at the female, speechless for a second before she got her bearings.

“You are not bothered by that?” she asked, the words slipping out before she could think about them, her voice shaking.

Esmeray let out a little scoff. “Of course not. Why would I be?”

The female picked up a cup of the table and took a sip of from it, those dark eyes studying Zahra with a sort of intensity to them. "I gave birth to a bastard myself," Esmeray said, her voice even. "I can probably imagine better than most what exactly your mother went through...what you went through. I would hope that you were treated better than my son, but if your sisters are being difficult about a mating bond for you...I imagine that hope is without reason."

Zahra swallowed, hard. Her throat felt dry all of a sudden, as an aching sort of feeling settled over her at Esmeray's words. The same sort of aching that appeared whenever she thought of her own mother.

She didn't want to think about the past, about any of that, especially not here, in this house filled with warmth and welcome and an overwhelming sense of acceptance.

Esmeray must have sensed her turmoil, because a soft smile appeared on her face. “You are safe here, Zahra,” she said quietly. “I would never judge you for the failings of your parents. Or for what you yourself may have done in a bid to simply survive.”

Zahra just swallowed. There was a lump in her throat and all she could do was to nod, not trusting her voice. Somehow she felt...strangely stripped down. Like Esmeray could see straight through every mask she put up. She wondered how much she had simple picked up on by meeting her for a few minutes.

It was too much, and she had to look away, because she didn't feel like she could handle the kindness in Esmeray's words.

"But enough of that," Esmeray said after a moment's pause. "Do you like cooking? I was going to make some beef jerky."

"I do like cooking," Zahra agreed with a smile.

“Then come into the kitchen when you have seen Azriel off,” Esmeray said simply.

She got up gracefully and made her way to the kitchen and Zahra was left staring at her in awe for a few seconds before she felt Azriel's hand squeeze hers again.

He met her gaze and her heart gave a lurch at the shadows in those eyes and the look on his face. "Are you going to be okay here?" he asked softly.

"Please be careful," she blurted out.

Azriel just smiled at her, the look in his eyes turning soft at her words as he pulled her a little closer. "I will be," he said softly. "And I will be back as soon as I can. I promise."

He leaned towards her and pressed his lips against her forehead, lingering for a few seconds, his hand curling over the side of her face. He inhaled, taking in the scent of her hair, and Zahra leaned into the touch.

She wanted...no...she...she needed...she caught his face in her hand, gently stroking his cheek, and then tipped up her chin.

If...If gods forbid...if...She wanted to feel this. At least once. She wanted....

Azriel froze underneath her touch for half a second, then he seemed to realize what she was going to do and a smile appeared on his face.

He chuckled, the sound a soft thing that made her heart flutter, before he leaned down and captured her lips with his.

Zahra let her eyes flutter shut at the feel of his lips against hers, the kiss gentle and soft as he ran his thumb along the curve of her jaw, still holding her steady. For just a moment, all that existed was Azriel.

He gently cupped her face in his hands like she was something fragile and breakable, and then he pulled back, gently pressing his forehead against hers and taking a deep breath.

Gods, Zahra wanted nothing more than just...stay. Right there at his side.

"Nothing will happen," he promised her. "I swear."

"I know," she breathed, opening her eyes to look at him.

He swallowed at the look in her eyes, then he smiled softly. "I will see you soon," Azriel said, the words a promise and a vow all at once.

***

Feyre couldn’t get her mind of it.

She couldn’t.

The idea was running through her head on constant repeat.

Over and over, the thoughts just kept circling her mind.

As she lay in bed with Rhys, as she went about her day, as the sun rose and then set, over and over, she just couldn’t seem to get her mind off…off one simple question.

Had Zarah actually had an affair with a married man…or had it been something far worse than that?

She couldn’t get that question out of her head. And so she twisted and turned that night as well, until she finally turned to face Rhys.

He still slept, blissfully unaware of her tossing and turning, of the heavy feeling in her chest. Slowly, she ran her fingers over his features, watching the way he slept. Peaceful and relaxed, a sight that usually made something clench in her chest.

He was everything she had ever wanted. She wished Zahra would have the same one day.

But right now….the sight only made the thoughts in her head whirl faster.

This was her mate, the male she was completely and utterly in love with. And she knew, without a doubt, that he would never…he would never force himself on a female. Would never touch a female for any other reason than mutual consent and desire.

But there were other males out there…males who…who didn’t share the same feelings as Rhys. Males who would see a female trapped in a situation th ast had been…dire like Zahra’s, and see it as nothing more than….than an opportunity.

She thought back to these years trapped in the cottage. Thought back to Zahra cooking and cleaning…

Thought about the long hours spent in the kitchen, mending and cooking…

Thought about the bony and skinny girl with the messy dark braid…these green eyes, the way she stayed quiet and in the corner, never raising her voice, never drawing attention to herself.

Feyre had never seen her disappear but then Feyre had often been off in the forest.

She wouldn’t have really noticed the times Zahra snuck off. She’d been so tired after her hunts, too focused on staying alive and keeping her family alive to pay attention to the things going on around her. Had her sister…had she…had she been meeting someone?

Had she snuck out to meet with…with a male?

Had her sister…had Zahra had an affair with that apothecary?

She tired to remember him…tried to remember the long suffering wife of his…her ash blond hair pulled back from her face, their gaggle of three kids…all of them wide eyed and quiet.

He was one of the richer man in the village…with beady eyes and hair struck through with grey…

She remembered the way he’d leer at females who came into his shop for supplies, the way he would look at them as if they were a piece of meat to be bought.

She could remember the way he'd sneer at poor female who'd come in, bartering and scrounging for every copper coin they had, and the way he'd look so smug when he charged them for every little thing…

Zahra had had an affair with him?

There was nothing attractive about him.

Feyre had always hated the way he’d leered at her. The way he'd looked at her as if she was a piece of meat.

There was nothing about him that was appealing in any way.

He was old, cold, calculating and cruel. And to think that a young, pretty female like Zahra…who, despite the way she tried to dress to blend in, was still gorgeous, would have anything to do with him…

Rhys stirred, his face scrunching up in a frown and his eyes slowly blinked open.

Violet eyes met hers, and Feyre forced herself to push her worries aside.

“What’s wrong?” Rhys’s voice was heavy with sleep, his words slow and mumbled.

Feyre let out a shaky breath, running her fingers through his black hair, trying to calm her thoughts.

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “Go back to sleep.”

Rhys grumbled, shifting his head to bury his face into her neck, making a sound of disagreement from deep in his throat.

His arms wrapped around her middle, pulling her tightly against his side.

“Something’s on your mind, Feyre Darling,” he mumbled against her neck, planting a kiss on the skin there. “I can tell.”

“Did you ever…did you ever get anything from Zahra’s mind about…” Feyre trailed off.

A beat of silence fell, and Rhys’s breath against her neck paused, his body stilling against hers.

A long moment passed, before Rhys inhaled, pulling his head back to look at her. “No,” he finally said. “But then…I never even tried to get into her head. She’s as bad as Nesta. Even trying to look at her shields is like staring at a brick wall.”

“But you’ve never looked?” Feyre pushed on, looking into his eyes. Searching for something, anything, any hint of deception.

Rhys’s face softened, a small smile on his face. “The only thing I ever got from Zahra, as a human, was protectiveness about you, Darling,” he said drily.

A small exhale left Feyre at his words, and she fell back against the pillows.

Rhys shifted, rolling over to lie half on top of her, propping his head on his folded arms that he rested on her stomach. A soft smile on his face. “Is that what’s keeping you up?” he wondered aloud. “Worries about Zahra?”

“I…I need to know if…why she did it,” Feyre said weakly. “I can’t…Zahra would have never taken the risk of having a bastard born child herself, Rhys. Not when she knew exactly how…how that life was. Living in two worlds and belonging to neither,” Feyre said with a grimace.

Rhys’s eyes softened at that, and his fingers ghosted over her stomach, tracing small, gentle patterns. “You’re worried that it wasn’t a choice,” he filled in.

“I don’t know,” Feyre whispered. “I can’t see her…I can’t see her do it willingly but I am wrecking my head and I can’t…if he hurt her…she hid it so well.”

Rhys’s face darkened at her words. It wasn’t hard to see the same thoughts circling in his mind, the same anger and disgust.

“You think the apothecary might have forced himself on her?” he asked quietly, a hard look on his face.

Feyre felt a pit in her stomach at the question. Felt nausea creeping up, bile rising in the back of her throat. The idea of something so…so vile happening to a young, innocent girl…it filled her with horror and sickened her.

“I…I don’t know,” she whispered. “But I can’t… I just can’t see her… taking that risk willingly. She’s too smart for that.”

"Maybe you should try to talk to her," Rhys said carefully. "But Feyre...if she...if she didn't do it willingly...if she had a reason for it, be it she was forced or she did it in exchange for something...she may not want to talk about it," he warned her.

She could see it on his face...could see the memories that she had…

“I…I know,” Feyre said softly. “If…if it’s true, she might not want to talk about it. But…I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about it. I need to know. And if it’s true...I can’t just sit back and do nothing."

Rhys was quiet for a moment, his fingers still tracing small patterns on her stomach.

His face was taut, “And if she truly has had an affair with him…willingly?” he asked quietly.

Feyre let out a shaky breath, closing her eyes. The thought of that being true…it just didn’t seem possible.

She just couldn’t see Zahra doing something like that. Not when she was so well aware of what would happen if she made such a mistake.

It just didn’t seem right.

Could she have really seen something in the apothecary, enough to want an affair with him, at the risk of being saddled with a bastard child?

"She must have had some reason," Feyre said quietly. "Even when it was just...wanting comfort of some kind."

Rhys was quiet, his dark eyes searching her face.

Slowly, a soft sigh escaped him, and he pulled himself up, pulling Feyre into his arms as he sat back against the headboard of the bed.

Feyre buried her face in his neck, inhaling the scent of his familiar, comforting scent.

His fingers combed through her hair, the touch soothing her frazzled nerves.

"I just want you to think about...if you do pull on that thread, you don't know what you are going to unravel," Rhys said carefully. "You need to be prepared that you maybe won't get the answer you think you will."

A shuddery breath left Feyre, and she closed her eyes.

She didn’t even know what she wanted to hear. Both options were horrible in their own way.

"I know," she said softly. "But I...but I have to try."

And so the next morning...she sat out to find her sister's apartment. She had never gone there before. There had been no reason for it. Even when Zahra had moved out of the townhouse and into her apartment, she had still showed up for Solstice and for Starfall, had still come to dinner. Zahra seemed to have made the best out of her life in Velaris. Had found herself a job and an apartment...just as Feyre walked the streets she realised that...she knew nothing about her sister's life but these two facts.

The realisation hit her hard, and a wave of guilt crashed over her, making her nauseous as she walked down the street.

It had never occurred to her before...but now she realised that she knew almost nothing about her sister’s life now. Nothing about the people in her life, or her dreams, or any hobbies...nothing except the fact that she had an apartment and a job, and that she still came to dinners.

Feyre didn't know about her sister's friends, didn't know about any hobbies she may had taken up...because whenever Zahra had come over, seemingly all they had talked about was whatever went on in Feyre's life. Feyre's worries, Feyre's problems. Zahra's problems hadn't ever been a topic of conversation. And Feyre also weakly admitted herself that the fact that Nesta and Elain wanted to spent time with her now...it was such a rare treat that...that maybe she had forgotten the older sister that had always been there for her for that.

She had been so elated that her sisters were spending time with her, and she had soaked up the attention like a dry sponge.

But now, with the sickening realisation that she hadn’t asked about Zahra’s life hit, a wave of guilt hit her.

Had her sister felt neglected by her? Had Zahra ever felt like a forgotten afterthought?

Feyre felt nauseous, and her steps slowed as she approached the building where Zahra lived.

The realisation that...that while she had been so happy to hang out with her elder sisters, she hadn’t even asked Zahra about her life...she didn’t even know what kind of apartment she lived in, what her home was like…

And apparently it wasn't an apartment at all.

Feyre blinked twice at the cottage in front of her.

A cottage?

The word echoed in her head, over and over, while she stared at the small building before her.

Zahra lived in a cottage.

A cottage that had clearly seen better days.

The exterior of the house was badly in need of a new coat of paint.

A pang of worry hit Feyre as she looked at the home, an anxiety filling her stomach.

How could Zahra possibly be living in such a place…?!

Though it was obvious that Zahra had put time and money into making it her home. It was clean, the windows were sparkling...the door had been painted bright blue.

She had done some work.

And the small garden in the front had clearly been tended and cared for meticulously.

But it was clear that her sister had a limited budget.

The paint job only really covered the worst of the blemishes rather than giving the home an actual makeover, and the windows sparkled, but they still looked old and worn.

It was a tiny cottage, barely more than a two-room house, but it was in the outskirts of Velaris and the next neighbours clearly were far away.

"Seems like I wasn't the only one who had this idea," drawled a voice behind her.

Feyre almost jumped, nearly letting out a shriek as a voice suddenly spoke up from behind her. A voice that she recognized far too well.

She didn't even need to turn around to know who had spoken.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, turning around to face Cassian.

Cassian didn't look the slightest bit guilty.

Instead, a broad smirk was on his face, his wings folded neatly behind him and his arms crossed in front of his armoured chest.

"The same thing you are, clearly," he drawled as he looked at the cottage in front of them.

"You want to speak to Zahra as well," Feyre said more as a statement rather than a question.

Cassian didn't deny it, simply shrugged.

"Why?" she demanded.

Cassian sighed, unfolding his arms and letting his hands fall loosely to his sides. "I need some answers," he said shortly. "Answers, because I am pretty sure that Nesta is wrong about her having just an affair. And if she is wrong..." Cassian grimaced. "The fallout is not going to be pretty."

"And if she’s right? If Zahra did a stupid, young mistake? Then what?" Feyre asked.

Cassian shrugged, a nonchalant look on his face.

"It's not like I haven't done the same," he said drily. "Or worse at that matter. She'll not get judgment from me."

Feyre felt a flicker of surprise at his words.

Cassian was…far more blunt and straightforward than Rhys…but, she thought as she studied his face, he actually didn’t look entirely comfortable.

His features were schooled into a look of nonchalance, but there was a tension in his face and body that hinted that the situation had him on edge, as well.

Still, Feyre walked up the step of the porch that had seen better days and knocked at the door. "Zahra?" she called loudly.

"She isn't here," Cassian said helpfully. "I can't hear a heartbeat. It's empty.”

Feyre’s heart sank at the words, and a curse fell from her lips.

She’d come all the way here…and Zahra wasn’t even home.

“Then where is she?” Feyre bit out.

"Probably at work, I'd guess," Cassian said, a small shrug on his shoulders.

He eyed the house, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

"I’m going to look inside," he said then, making a step towards the door.

"You can’t-" Feyre hissed at him, but Cassian cut her off.

"If you have a better idea, I’m open to suggestions," he said, looking back at her. "But if we’re here already, I want to see if there is anything inside that will give us a clue. Something, anything."

Feyre held his gaze for a long moment.

She knew he had a point, and she knew she wouldn’t win this argument.

"Fine," she gritted out. "But you leave everything as it is. No messing with anything."

Cassian shot her a smirk, before he grabbed the door handle and with a sharp twist, he had opened the door.

Without pause, he stalked into the house, leaving Feyre to follow him.

"You'll better fix this before we leave," Feyre snapped at him, following behind, into her sister's living room.

It was clean...tidy. A couch that had seen better days...and an absolute monstrous plaid chair that looked like it was made for wings. Feyre wasn't the only one who stared at that.

Cassian did too.

A long moment passed.

Cassian, the Lord of Bloodshed, a hulking, tall, intimidating figure, stood in the small living room and stared at the chair as if he was struck mute.

Just staring.

A long moment passed, before he let a shudder run down his spine. "That thing is an abomination," he said gruffly.

Feyre watched as Cassian’s nostrils flared, and his eyes widened, like a cat scenting something in the air.

A frown appeared on his face, and he took a quick, short sniff again.

"What is it?" Feyre demanded.

"Az was here," Cassian said, surprise colouring his voice. "More than once."

Feyre’s eyes widened at that, and she sniffed the air.

Cassian was right.

A familiar scent was lingering in the air. So subtle that she wouldn’t have sensed it if it wasn’t pointed out to her, but it was there.

Azriel’s mist and cedar scent, lingering in the room.

"Why was Az here?" Feyre wondered.

Cassian just shook his head as he continued to sniff.

"Not just here," he said, making a step into the kitchen. "In there, as well. And in the bedroom. "

Feyre wasn’t even surprised to find that he was right.

Azriel’s scent was all over the small house, lingering in the air in every single room.

Even in the bathroom.

"What in the Cauldron...?" Feyre breathed as she followed Cassian into the bedroom.

The scent was even stronger in the small room, clearly having clung to the bedding and lingered on the furniture.

"Azriel has clearly been frequenting this place," Cassian said slowly, an intense look on his face as he glanced around the bedroom. "And more than once. It's all over the house."

"He wouldn't...right?" Feyre asked. Had her sister and Azriel been...together?

"I...I don't know," Cassian said slowly.

A pensive look was on his face, his gaze sharp as he looked at the matress.

"We all know how...discreet Azriel is about these things," he said, a grimace on his face. "But Azriel...and Zahra...?"

Cassian shook his head, his nostrils flaring again, clearly trying to scent the room.

"They...I mean, it doesn't smell like sex. But that doesn't mean anything," he said with a shrug. "Maybe they haven't had sex in a few days. Maybe they just have friendly sleep overs and nothing else," he suggested and Feyre snorted.

"Sure, Azriel just uses my sister as his own personal teddy bear and nothing else," she said darkly. "I am going to have words with both of them when they come over for dinner. What in the cauldron is going on?!"

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #Azriel x Archeron!Reader #Stars all aligned

482 notes · View notes

klemen-tine · 11 months ago

Text

Glass Bones and Paper Skin

Platonic! Bruce x Model! GN! Reader

More Platonic Bruce x Reader than Batfam, but they are mentioned and will have a bigger role in the future.

Trigger Warnings: Hint at suicide, Body Issues, Eating problems (not a disorder), Child Neglect

Just a reminder for everyone, your bodies are perfect and beautiful! Don't let anyone else tell you otherwise.

Part 2

Part 3

Blinding lights and hundreds of eyes are enough to thwart people from the runway. It makes people stumble, trip, or even run from it. Their mind focuses on if they mess up, the world will see. Their managers, agencies, everyone will forever refer to it when they ask them to walk for them again.

They focus on their walk, the way the clothing either hugs or drapes off their bodies, how the shoes don’t fit, the way their hair is styled, and how the makeup can burn. They try not to focus on how their stomachs ache, how the heels cut into the thin skin on their feet, and that everyone in this room that is dressed and prepped, are equally or more or less beautiful than them.

Y/N L/N seemed to be the topic of conversation at all of these events. A newer runway model who has been eating it up. From their first runway debut to this one, they have always left people in awe and dropping to their knees for more. It is hard to believe that they are only 18. Y/N has been a photoshoot model since 15, but on their birthday when they turned 18, they finally agreed to their agency’s desire to make them take on the runway.

It was the best choice for their career. Y/N’s manager was the daughter of their mother’s manager, back when she was alive and used to do modeling. Her manager threw her own daughter at Y/N, and stated that they were the best people to work with because they know Y/N. Whether Y/N was cursed or not –they have yet to figure that out– has nearly the same exact features as their mother and the same ‘air.’ One that demanded everyone to pay attention to them, and is a natural for posing and had a natural strut.

They’ve been right, and Y/N doesn’t know if it is because of them that they all made it this far. They knew what looked best on Y/N and what wouldn’t work. They knew which designers would adore them and which designers wouldn’t fit.

Those who know Y/N though understand that the ‘air’ was only on the runways and photoshoots. Y/N is actually a very demure person, while not a wallflower, they were someone who could blend in the crowd.

Alfred once told them that every country should be grateful to not have Y/N working against them, because Y/N can just disappear.

“Y/N, are you ready?” They smiled at their fellow models, slipping into the person of Y/N L/N, child of M/N L/N and Bruce Wayne, and nodding, “Of course. When am I not?”

Cheryl whistled, a fellow model that has been Y/N’s mentor in some way, walking around Y/N and smiling, “Designers sure know how to dress you up. I think almost every runway walk has had your hips on display” Y/N chuckled at her, “It’s because of these hips dips. You can probably drink soup out of them.”

“If it was ice cream I’d be down, but not soup.” Jon was another model who has been in the scene for a long time. He was a handsome man with a diamond face.

“Models get ready.” A shuffling of feet and high heels clip clopping sounded in the backstage, and Y/N took their place in front of everyone. They will be the one opening the show today, an honor that the 18-year-old took gratefully.

Opening a show was a big deal, setting the tone for the show in general and also the tempo. Y/N took a deep breath, and at the cue, their mind went blank as they began walking. Their eyes focused on the end camera, and the walk on beat to the music. Once at the end, they looked directly into the camera and struck a pose. Highlighting the slit hips and underboob design, showing off the almost sheer fabric that had the slightest hint of shimmer in them. A statement piece.

Turning around they walked back to where they emerged from, making sure they kept their face in control for the last camera. However, a sight at the corner of their eye momentarily broke them out of their blank space. Five familiar people that should not be here. Sitting in the front row, wearing nice tuxedos, and almost making Y/N stumble.

Almost. Controlling their features, Y/N returned their focus to the camera and disappeared in the entrance they emerged from. Smiling at all the 'congratulations’ ‘you looked great,’ ‘you look beautiful,’ they went back to their manager, Maya, and whispered, “I need you to confirm five people in the front row on the left side. They are four chairs down from the camera.”

Maya nodded, scurrying away and without a doubt checking it out. Y/N could feel the curiosity and dread build in their stomach. If they are who Y/N thinks they are, then the after party is going to be interesting.

“What’s wrong?” Jon wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulder, bringing Y/N out their thoughts, “Nothing really. Just thought I saw some familiar faces.” Jon made a weird face, but dropped the issue when another model, Logan, strolled on over.

“Did you see them?”

“See who?”

“The Wayne family! They are in the front row!” Y/N closed their eyes in misery and a headache began forming. They saw Maya running back, her face pale and a large frown on her face. Jon glanced at Y/N, taking in the annoyed expression and scrunched nose, “Hmm, no I didn’t. I was too focused on looking at the camera, Logan.” She rolled her eyes, “Oh, it was only a second.”

Jon and Y/N gave each other a dry look, remembering the last time Logan had said that and somehow the camera managed to snap a photo when she was oggling at someone. Y/N shook their head, “I momentarily saw them, but I didn’t think it was them. Do you think I can get the oldest son’s number?”

‘You’re not his type.’ Y/N thought but didn’t say, shrugging and smiling in amusement, “Logan, what would your girlfriend say?” The model stuck her tongue, “She’d ask to join.” Before Logan could say anything else, Cheryl waltzed over, “Stop being inappropriate, there’s a kid present.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry, if you can’t drink yet you can’t have this conversation.” Y/N made a face, “That’s the stupidest sense of logic I have ever heard.” Everyone laughed at them, clapping Y/N’s shoulders and helping each other fix their wardrobes. Some stylists came over to fix their makeup and hair just in case. Everyone was getting ready for the last walkthrough, and honestly, Y/N was dreading it.

As the front runner of it all, Y/N’s face will be seen by the now confirmed Wayne family and Y/N isn’t confident in themselves enough to not make a face.

The show will be closing soon and then there is the afterparty that all models are expected to attend. It's a networking place, where other designers, brand ambassadors, and just people who are rich enough to get a ticket can talk to the models and try and recruit them. Its a place and time to mingle for those who have an open schedule and unfortunately, Y/N has an open fucking schedule.

This was their last show in Paris, and then they have one destination and then it will be done. Runway season will be officially over and then it will be smaller gigs and back to the every now and then runway.

“Models get ready!” Y/N took a deep breath and fixed their face, eyes forward and chin up.

‘I’ll call Alfred when I get home.’

+++

‘I want to go home.’ Y/N nursed the drink in the flute, filled with sparkling cider instead of champagne. They stood off to the side, changed out of the clothes they wore on the runway, and instead in a deep-v top and leather pants. Still dressed to impress, but at the moment they just wanted to curl up and go away. Y/N’s hotel room has a bathtub in it and Y/N really wants to just sit down in hot water and relax.

Y/N was constantly scanning the crowd, moving further against the wall whenever they saw black hair and blue eyes.

Maya said one more hour, then it will be acceptable to leave. She was doing all the talking and networking for Y/N, trusting that when it came to meet the designers Y/N will charm them enough to want to have them keep coming back. Sighing once more, Y/N took a longer sip and wished to be home.

Something moved the hair near their ear, and Y/N almost threw their glass at whoever it was until they caught sight of blue eyes and black hair, staring at and analyzing them.

��Tim…”

“Hello, Y/N.” Y/N gave a practiced and polite smile, “Odd to see you here.” Tim shrugged, “Seeing that the designer is friends with Bruce, and told us of your show and that you will be leading the walk, of course we had to come.” Y/N nodded, “In Paris?”

“Where else? You’re next one is in New York right?” Y/N gave a polite chuckle, “Since when did you pay attention to fashion week?” Tim took a sip of champagne, “Since my younger sibling decided to run off and become a model.”

Y/N took a sip of the sparkling cider, not missing the way Tim was eyeing them with interest and curiosity. They smiled against the rim of the flute, “ ‘Run off’ huh. I don’t think those are the words I would use. I never hid it and I didn’t pack my bags in the middle of the night and sneak through a window.” Y/N set the empty flute down, still smiling politely at Tim who was still watching them, “I simply walked out the front door and no one stopped me.”

“Y/N–”

“Y/N! There you are!” A tall woman, hair dyed a shade-off from white gray and wearing the crispest red suit, strolled over. Y/N gave a larger smile, opening their arms and welcoming the hug, “Ms. Gabbana, you look lovely as always.” The woman laughed, “That’s the botox. Anyways, you looked so amazing opening the show!”

Tim was quickly forgotten as Francesca Gabbana, an Italian high-end fashion designer and luxury brand owner, chatted away with Y/N. Her presence called forth other designers and models and soon enough, Y/N was entrapped in a small group talking about the next runway show next week.

They talked about the dreaded flight to New York, and where they will be staying. It will be Francesca’s show next week, along with some other high end designers. Francesca seemed particularly excited for Y/N’s, and when Y/N first saw the design, they had to hold back the shivers.

“Right, Y/N you’re from Gotham aren’t you? Will you be visiting your family?” With the attention all on Y/N, they smiled tightly and shrugged, “We’ll see. They are always so busy so I think it's best if I don-”

“I hope Y/N visits, it’s been a while since we last saw each other.” A large hand clapped Y/N’s shoulder, and from the facial expression everyone was making, Y/N knows who it was. Peeking up through their lashes, Y/N could see Bruce’s smile on his still handsome face.

Cheryl was the first to recover, her eyes narrowing slightly, “How… how do you know each other?” Y/N glanced at Bruce, who right now is Brucie, and before he could say anything Bruce gasped, “Y/N, you haven’t said anything?” The young adult shrugged, “It never came up. Bruce Wayne is my father.”

The room erupted, and Y/N actually wanted to go die in a hole. What proceeded afterwards was the most intense questioning for the next two hours.

++++

“Bruce, why are you here?” Y/N asked over dinner. He tossed the crouton around in his salad, waiting for his father’s response. They have never had a 1 on 1 meal together. It was alway family meals, and even then Y/N rarely showed up for those. There was no need too. They never noticed when Y/N was there or not.

The Billionaire playboy shrugged, “Is it wrong to see my child open a highly sought after show?” Y/N chuckled, “No, but you have never shown any interest in this before.” Y/N never hid his modeling gigs. Often using the family weight room to keep in shape and also turned one of the unused offices into a strut practice room when Y/N lived in the manor. Hours and the amount of money spent to ensure their skin was perfect and their hair was nice, and that they looked beautiful.

Y/N never hid their modeling job, even as a teen, and yet the only one who seemed to notice was Alfred.

“You never said anything.”

“I didn’t think I had too.” Y/N can recall trying to show Bruce, Dick, Jason, anyone that would bother to look, a photo of them making it onto Vogue. Not the cover, not yet, but as a newer model within the prestigious magazine. They made it at 16. 16, and only modeling for a year! Francessca had them in a piece that was first page worthy, and it fit Y/N like it was meant for them.

Alfred was the only person to look at the magazine Y/N held open with their trembling hands, and ruffle their hair and congratulate them.

“You didn’t even tell Alfred where you are living.” No, because Y/N doesn’t want Alfred showing up unexpectedly and seeing the almost empty fridge. The thought of the older man’s disappointed look and inquisitive questions would have Y/N breaking down crying.

“Hmmm, I’m always moving around so I didn’t want him showing up when I am not there.” Bruce nodded, taking a bite of his lobster, and watching Y/N take a small bite of the salad. Y/N swallowed with great difficulty, “Bruce-”

“Since when does a child call their parents by their first name?” Y/N sucked their teeth, “The only one who calls you ‘father’ is Damian.”

“You used to.” Y/N shrugged, “You never seemed comfortable with me calling you that.” Bruce rarely answered when Y/N called him ‘dad’ or ‘father,’ and yet he alway responded when someone else called for him. Y/N would watch from afar as Bruce came running to them in need, but when Y/N needed help they had to figure it out on their own.

At some point Y/N stopped calling for Bruce entirely, running and calling only to Alfred.

Y/N is not mad about it. They never were. Dull E/C eyes accepted it and pushed forward, watching the explosive fights, the angry words, and the silent apologies. Alfred’s words affirming that they all loved each other, despite everything saying otherwise. Y/N watched, and continued to watch as they focused on themselves when Y/N began making a name for themself.

They’re not mad. Y/N never was. Hurt? Maybe, but not mad. That is just their hand in life. Besides, it made the modeling career easier. No need to worry about missing any events, Y/N wouldn’t be invited even if they had lived there. Holidays weren’t huge, nor were birthdays. The only one Y/N sent a card to was Alfred.

It made traveling easier. There was no such thing as homesickness. It made taking more gigs easier, more destructive behavior easier to handle.

“Y/N,” Bruce called to him and Y/N paused while eating. Raising an eyebrow in question as Bruce set down his own eating utensils. Ocean blue met E/C, and Y/N tried to place the emotion in those blue eyes.

“For what it is worth, I… I am sorry about the neglect you have faced within our home.” Y/N’s mind stopped functioning and they stared at Bruce in shock. The man either ignoring him or not realizing that Y/N was staring at him continued.

“You… you didn’t deserve that, especially when you were grieving and that fact that I could not see that shows my fail–”

“Wait wait wait!” Y/N held their hands up, cutting off Bruce, “What are you talking about?” Bruce stared at Y/N with questions in his eyes, and blinked in shock when he saw the genuine confusion in his child’s eyes. Y/N looked floored, “Bruce… I-I… what?”

Bruce knows he’s not a good parent. He is intimately aware of his failings and shortcomings, and how some of them haunt him. They claw into his skin, his mind, and chest as a reminder of all the times he has failed his children. He and Dick barely started talking, Jason and him are slowly mending that bridge, and Tim and Damian seem to hate each other and Bruce doesn’t know what to do about that. It seems the only children he hasn’t officially fucked over are those that aren’t even his.

Then there’s Y/N. A child of his genetic makeup, just like Damian, only Y/N’s mother was a model Bruce had treated as a hookup whenever she was on the east coast. Y/N was 13 when they came into Bruce’s care, older than Damian and a few years younger than Tim. Their mother was caught in a drug-use scandal, one that cost her her career and then her life. Her choice left behind a traumatized child, walking in on the body as she decomposed in their bathroom. They had been forced to pack up their bags and move across the country to live with a parent that they only heard about once or twice.

Bruce somewhat knew of Y/N. He knew that Y/N’s mother had been pregnant, but when he asked if she wanted child support, the woman huffed and said ‘no thank you.’ Her income was enough, as a high in demand supermodel, and she didn’t need Bruce’s ‘pity’ money.

So, he never sought after her and she never phoned him.

Until CPS called and told him of the news and the now homeless 13-year-old child he was now in charge of.

Y/N and him never really connected, and Bruce wonders if some of that is his own fault. He was always too busy with Batman, then his drama with Dick, and Jason’s whole dying thing, the persona of Brucie Wayne, then there was Tim, then Jason coming back from the dead thing, then Barbara’s whole Joker incident, then Damian….

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t too busy, he just never made time for Y/N. Which, the other never seemed to complain about. If they did complain to Alfred, the butler never said anything, and neither did their brothers. Y/N was just a ghost living in the manor that showed up for meals because it was expected, and then… left.

Now he sits here, across from his child who doesn’t seem to understand the wrong done to them by not only Bruce, but the rest of the family.

“Where did this come from?” Bruce doesn’t have the heart to tell them that it was because of Alfred that Bruce and the family finally realized what was wrong. The tour of Y/N’s old room, still kept clean due to Alfred’s insistence, but instead of clothes on the ground and signs of life within the room, it had photos of Y/N's past modeling gigs. Hundreds of photos, some framed, some not, as they covered the walls. Magazines that had Y/N on the front cover, magazine pages that had Y/N taking up the entire page.

The tour of the room-turned-practice room. Full of mirrors, and a 4 inch wide ply board used to practice walking. The shoes that were hidden in the closet, some too big and some too small. Blood staining the heel area of most of them as the image of Y/N practicing until and through the blisters filled all their heads.

The meal regime, still written hastily down on the post it notes, and the exercise routine that didn’t match the calorie intake. The broken mirrors in Y/N’s closets and the clothes that now looked like they would be too big on the present-day Y/N that is sitting in front of Bruce.

The written blogs, printed and folded in one of their drawers, relating them back to their mother. Accusing them of the same thing they accused M/N. Highlighting Y/N’s faults, Y/N’s mistakes, Y/N’s features, and Y/N’s heritage.

‘Child of drug-abuser model M/N L/N, Y/N L/N using the same drug?’ A 15-year-old Y/N posed in a way to show their figure was the picture that was used.

‘Child of famous model M/N L/N able to hold up to the heat?’ Another photo of a 16-year-old Y/N looking exhausted as they walked out of a building. Eyes red and bags under their eyes.

‘Beauty genes skipped a generation.’ Y/N is 17 in that photo.

‘Y/N M/N will never be as beautiful as M/N L/N without extensive work.’ Y/N is 15 again in this photo. They had kept every critique, every mean and poorly written article about them, and kept them. Some of them were tweets, printed instagram photos, and magazines.

Bruce could see the drastic changes in Y/N throughout the photos. The strict lifestyle changes affected their appearance and made them look even more like M/N. The Y/N in front of him, still beautiful, but Bruce knows the thoughts behind the perfect skin and perfect hair.

It would seem that one of the things Y/N inherited from Bruce would be the internalizing of every little bad thing to happen, and deny that it has affected them while they wore the scar of it on their sleeves.

“Bruce, you didn’t neglect me. I had food, clothes, a manor… where did you get all of that from?”

“Emotional neglect is still neglect.” Y/N still looked confused, setting their fork down and controlling their expression as they processed that. Okay, so yeah maybe Bruce wasn’t an attentive father, but the man never hit Y/N. He never said anything about Y/N that Y/N would have to go to therapy for. Besides, Bruce’s lack of attention paved the way for Y/N to do this!

Y/N’s lips formed a serene smile, “Bruce, I’m not mad that you didn’t pay attention to me. You were busy with your company, you are legally a dad of five kids, not everyone is going to get the same attention.” They took a sip of the water, hoping the conversation would end there.

“It wasn’t that I was busy, I just never made time Y/N… and for that I am sorry.” Y/N hates this. Absolutely hates this. All of their excuses for Bruce are being shot down by Bruce himself and it was leaving Y/N feeling a little raw. Wounds they didn’t even know about now being rubbed with salt.

Y/N stuck their tongue in their cheek and looked around, before smiling once more, “Bruce, I am literally giving you a way out for your guilt, which I still don’t understand why you’re feeling guilty, so why aren’t you taking it?

“What are you hoping to do?” Bruce stared into E/C eyes and he could see the irritation in them. He set his fork and knife down, and leaned forward, “Is it wrong to try and mend broken bridges?”

“The bridge was never broken in the first place.”

“You’re right, and that’s because there was never a bridge in the first place.” Y/N cocked their head to the side, watching with an intense expression. Those E/C eyes flickering around, taking in the restaurant and narrowing their eyes, “I’ve been meaning to ask you, but did you rent out the entire restaurant?”

“I did. So we can talk freely.”

“The other ‘customers’ are Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian.” Bruce nodded, “Family dinner.” Y/N’s smile held no amusement, “You know, if you were anybody else I would be thinking this is a way for you to slide back in my life in hopes you could get some of my paycheck. But what is a model’s paycheck to Bruce Wayne’s?” Bruce chuckled, “You are making quite a bit. I’m happy you're conscious of your position now.”

Y/N sipped the water, “How do you know how much I’m making?” Bruce only smiled and continued eating. He watched his child contemplate asking the question again, but then decided to drop it.

‘Smart.’ Y/N continued to watch him, no longer touching the food and seeming unwilling to even look at the dessert menu.

“You’ll visit when you’re back in the states, right?” It didn’t feel like a question. In fact, it felt more like a demand poised as a question to keep intentions hidden. Y/N gulped, “I’ll try.”

“You should, Alfred misses you. Besides, Manhattan, New York isn’t too far from Gotham.” It was such an innocent sentence. One spoken with a smile on his lips and kind sky blue eyes. An innocent sentence, except Y/N has never once told them where they live.

“A beautiful place, I can see why you wouldn’t want to leave. With windows like those and that giant skylight, it is truly a wonderful place befitting a top model such as yourself.” Y/N’s mouth went dry, and they could feel the sweat on the back of their neck as they continued to stare at Bruce. Their instincts implore them to go along with this.

Urging them to carry on the conversation as they felt the gazes of four others on their back. They gave a wobbly smile, “Ye-yes. I really love it, I am super lucky that I managed to have enough saved up, and that I make enough to own a beautiful home such as that.” Bruce nodded, “As an apology for all the missed birthdays and Christmases, I decided to help out a bit.”

“...Excuse me?” Bruce ignored them, and instead looked at their plate that was still untouched from when Y/N had put down the utensils. He took a bite, “Do you not like your food? I can get something else made for you.”

“N-no, I’m-I’m just full.” Bruce’s eyes narrowed before making a show of shrugging it off, “If you insist. Do know Alfred will want to feed you when you visit.” Y/N’s smile was becoming hard to maintain, “It was a pleasure to have dinner with you, Bruce, but I have to go. Long flight tomorrow and I need to be ready for next week.” Y/N fished out their credit card, but Bruce stuck his hand out, “Don’t worry about it, dinner has been paid for.”

Y/N didn’t fight, only nodding and smiling pleasantly, “I suppose I will see you next week?” Bruce stood up, and brought Y/N into a tense hug. Feeling the bone and sinewy muscles in his rough hands. Y/N’s top is open back, exposing the shoulder blades and some of Y/N’s spine. Each one a small knob against skin, looking like the Rocky Mountains.

“Safe flight, Y/N. See you at the shows next week.” Y/N gave a tight smile and quickly left. The four other pairs of eyes never left their back, and when finally in the safety of the streets, Y/N pulled out their phone and checked their Mortgage app.

‘Successfully Paid!’ In bright green letters, bolded as if it were a game.

It’s been paid off. Y/N now owed nothing on that house, and while that might have been freeing, it meant someone could now have access to their mortgage account. An alert sounded on their phone, and when Y/N saw that it was their bank account, notifying them of a deposit Y/N felt the breath leave their lungs.

A large sum, one that had Y/N blinking at the amount of 0’s, was just deposited to their checking account. Right under their bill for walking on that runway.

‘Shopping money, for when you visit.’ - Dick

They have access to their bank account. Y/N’s family, because while Bruce was a solitary kind of guy he never was one to withhold information from his former Robins, now had access to their account. They could see what they were spending money on.

They know where Y/N lives. From the sounds of it, Bruce was even in the penthouse. Y/N covered their mouth and tried to stifle a sob, the feeling of an invasion of their privacy weighing heavy in their chest.

++++

Y/N stared at the article of clothing with anxiety. When Francesca had first shown them the clothing, it had only caused slight discomfort. Now, now that Y/N knows that their family is here, and watching, the clothing had felt like it was a metal ball. Francesca stood next to them, admiring Y/N’s hair and makeup, and how it all looked with clothing item.

“I knew this would look great on you. As a Gothamite, this must feel great right? To be wearing the symbol of your City’s greatest vigilante.” Y/N swallowed down the bile, “He’s typically seen as the boogeyman, but yes. I suppose it does feel odd wearing the symbol.”

The piece of clothing was quite scandalous, a bat symbol made out of gold rest across their chest, attached to a black silk fabric and lace. It hugged their body, bringing out the hip dips and long legs, as well as exposing their toned stomach.

“Why didn’t you say anything about you being Bruce Wayne’s kid?” Francesca asked, and Y/N could only shrug, “Just… it just never came up.” Y/N loves that Francesca drops that. There are tons of models who have family issues. Y/N’s are minor.

Not worthy of anything.

“Y/N, for what it is worth, I do think you are a one in a century model. No one has taken to the runway quite like you have. I think if you had started the runway earlier you would already be a supermodel.” Y/N smiled at Francesca’s kind words, and they wondered just how they got so lucky to have befriended her.

“Thank you.”

“Models get ready!” Y/N took to the back of the line, being offered to close the show just after they had opened one. Another prestigious offer that Y/N gratefully took. Sighing heavily, they watched as the line grew shorter and the sound of cameras flashing and grew louder.

Taking a deep breath, they steeled their breathing and controlled their expressions. Blocking out the world in the way they do best, strutting. The intensity of the flashes increased, and Y/N made a show of keeping their face neutral.

Just how Batman does.

They made a point to not look at the people in the front row. When they made it back behind the entry way, there was no time to catch their breath. They were ushered back into line for the final walk out, and Y/N wonders if they can all see how pale Y/N is. Can they see the sweat on their brow or the fact that their E/C eyes are terrified?

“You did great Y/N!”

“Looking beautiful Y/N.”

“C’mon Y/N, after this its a party!”

No, no they can’t see it because they are all focused on what Y/N wants them to be focused on. Y/N has spent countless hours into ensuring they loook beautiful without makeup, and ethereal in it, no one will care about their inner thoughts and turmoils.

Y/N strutted to the music one last time, focusing on the flashing light and hoping that the photos they captured showed exactly what Y/N wants them to see. Once they were in the back, the models stripping and changing into comfortable clothes and all of them getting ready for the afterparty, Y/N stayed seated. The pads of their fingers running against the cold metal that was in the shape of a bat across their chest as their makeup artist and hairstylist undid all of their work.

Francesca smiled, “You were great Y/N, I knew you would be the right person to pull this off.”

“Thank you, what inspired this piece if you don’t mind me asking.” Francesca smiled, “Oh, I got a call actually. It was just a call to run the idea by me, but I loved it so much that I accepted it.” Y/N furrowed their brow, “A call?” They began to strip out of the clothing, but Francesca’s startled look made them pause.

“...What?”

“You’re not going to keep it on?” Y/N gave a confused look, “We don’t keep clothes, Francesca.” The stylist smiled, “Well, no. But Y/N, that was a commission for you.” Y/N stared at Francesca with a new found fear, and their mouth going dry as they processed it all.

“Who… who did you say the call was from?” Francesca beamed, “Your father, who by the way I am offended you didn’t say anything about, Bruce Wayne.” Large hands clapped their shoulder, and Y/N would have shouted if it weren’t for the familiar smell of cologne.

Turning around, they met Bruce’s blue eyes, and the blue eyes of their siblings. All of them dressed to the nines and eyeing the clothes.

“Truly a wonderful piece, Ms. Gabbana. I could not thank you enough.”

“Of course! Thank you for the idea!” Y/N felt their breath quicked when Dick’s hands gripped their wrist, and gently tugged them in his direction, “C’mon Y/N, you’ll be late to dinner. Alfred is making your favorite.”

“At least let them change, Dick.”

“Todd is right, a drive in that would be difficult. Not to mention that it is snowing outside.”

“Y/N, we have some clothes for you. They should be more comfortable then the clothes you came in.” Y/N couldn’t even say anything as they were dragged away, Bruce keeping Francesca busy while their brothers pushed them into a changing room. Dick smiling gently as he passed the bag of Y/N’s clothes, taken from their penthouse, into Y/N’s trembling arms.

“Bruce paid for that outfit, so try not to ruin it, okay? We’ll be waiting out here for you.” Dick booped their nose, and left Y/N alone in the changing room taht only had a curtain for a door. With trembling hands, they searched the bag for their phone. They have to call someone. Cheryl will help them. So would Jon. Maybe even Maya! Y/N just needs to call–

“Y/N, we have your phone out here, so don’t panic.” Y/N bit their lip to stop themself from sobbing. One thing. They just want one thing to go right today.

A knock sounded on the wood that was hoolding the curtain, “Y/N, do you need help?”

“N-no! No, I’m just try-trying to be gentle with the piece.” Bruce hummed, “Well, try and hurry. Alfred is excited to see you and is expecting us for dinner in three hours.” Y/N gulped, carefully stripping and putting on the sweats and hoodie. Clothes that still smell like their laundry detergent and shoes Y/N knows were in their closet.

‘Dear God.’ They whimpered as they slipped on the comfortable pair of shoes, and bagged the shoes from teh show, and carefully picked up the article of clothing. The gold bat symbol shining mockingly at them.

The curtain pulled open, and like a horror photo, the light from behind them casted and eerie shadow. Bruce’s face hidden in teh darkness as he reached his hand out for Y/N, knowing full well his child cannot run.

“C’mon Y/N, time to go home.”

______________________________________________________________

A Part 2 will definitely happen! Kinda has to, to be honest.

#batfam x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfam #platonic yandere #batfam #batman x reader #bruce wayne #platonic batman #platonic batfam #yandere imagines #gender neautral reader #batman x gn reader #stalking

2K notes · View notes

rosenclaws · 12 days ago

Text

Lost || Logan Howlett x Reader

summary: You risk your life on missions when you shouldn't. Logan can't stand it. He thinks it's because you want to play hero. It isn't until something shifts that he realizes there's more to it. That the two of you are more alike than ever.

warnings: Suicidal ideation, implied Self harm (scratching), depressive thoughts and feelings, self hatred manifesting in different ways, mostly the reader is very mean to themselves, the reader is having a mental spiral basically, poor eating, angst, injuries, hopeful ending.

wc: 3.3k

a/n: PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS! This fic contains very triggering topics and if you think that reading or being exposed to them will hurt you please DO NOT READ. I value peoples well being over this fic 1000%. If I'm being honest this was my own kind of therapy. The way I wrote the reader's thought process and feelings is a lot like my own. I've been going through it a little and I just needed to get something out. I would also like to disclaimer that I am okay! Please take care of yourself first and be gentle to yourself. If you need someone to talk to my dms and inbox are open or please consider reaching out to someone

Things worked like clockwork around here. The kid would go to class. Do their homework. Play outside. The adults would be training or teaching. Dinner was at the same time every night. Occasionally the team would get sent on a mission and even then things worked like they normally did.

Scott led the team with a plan, Logan usually ignored that plan, Ro got between them when their childish bickering got to be too much, and you all got home just fine.

"Again?" Beast is shaking his head as you hobble into the lab again. A pained smile on your face as Scott helps you onto the cold metal table.

"What can I say beastie, I just love your company." You groan as he gently touches your side. A sharp pain shoots through your body and dark spots cloud your vision.

"Broken ribs, definitely." He mutters as he writes something down. He asks you to follow his finger and you do your best.

"Concussion. Again." You wince as his tone grows harsher.

"Superficial cuts and bruises." The list goes on and on as you're examined.

"Can you just prescribe me some pain meds and let go? That's what we did last time." You ask and he just looks at you like a disappointed parent.

"We did that last time and the time before that and the time before that. This is your third concussion and I can't even remember how many broken ribs." You feel like a child as he starts lecturing you on safety and the dangers of missions and blah blah blah.

Look you get that this isn't great but you're an X-Man right? They help people by any means even when the world seems to hate them. So you're helping people by putting yourself in harms way. Even your teammates.

"I really don't understand why you continue to do this to yourself." Beast injects something into your arm and you flinch.

"Fuck! A little warning next time please." You rub your arm and close your eyes as the exhaustion is starting to catch up to you.

"No missions for at least three months." He says to Scott who you forgot was still there.

"What!" You shoot up and double over in pain from your ribs.

"Come on, you can't bench me for three months." You whine as you look at Scott.

"Our top priority is that you're safe and healthy firefly." Scott says and you scoff.

"No our top priority is helping people." He sighs and pats you on the shoulder. Great, is this another scolding? Beasts was like a parent but Scott was always more brotherly than anything.

"Firefly, We understand the want to help but you can't help people if you keep getting hurt. You throw yourself into danger without even thinking about it."

"So does Logan!" You protest but you know the argument is futile.

"Logan has rapid healing factor. You don't. Look, just take the three months okay? Please? We worry about you." Scott says with such sincerity it makes you feel a little bad.

"Okay fine." You mumble in agreement. Satisfied with your answer Scott leaves, letting Hank patch you up. You're silent as you think back to the mission.

It was dangerous. You weren't dealing with low level grunts or something. These people were deadly. They weren't going to spare anyone. Rogue and Jubilee joined the mission and as much as you loved them they weren't ready. The fight was getting messier and exhaustion was kicking in.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jubilee and Rogue barely fighting off their attackers. Without thinking you jump in to help them. The calls to retreat came and you saw Logan come help the three of you. His claws sliced his way through.

"Get back to the ship!" He growled as he took down yet another man. Everyone else was safe except for the four of you.

"Go, I'll be right behind you!" You yell over your shoulder.

You put up a wall to block the bullets as you walk back. In your head you know how this plays out. You get on the ship and they shoot it down, killing you all. Or you don't make it. Or a million other ways it can go wrong. As Logan grabs Jubilee and Rouge and pulls them onto the ship he holds his hand out to you.

"We need to go!" Without thinking you take down you start to build energy in your hands. The wall wavers as the bullets continue.

"Quit fucking around and get in here!" Logan roars. Sorry Logan, you tend to ignore him anyways on missions. Which is how you tend to get hurt but you always end up okay.

"I got this!" You can hear Logan's angry shouting as the plane door closes. They had no choice but to listen to you. A bullet pierces your wall and rips through your side. You let out a cry as your knee buckles. Sweat pours down your face as you gather every last bit of your energy into your hands.

"Eat shit." You snarl as you make eye contact with who you assume was the leader.

You release the energy and it blasts through everyone and everything around you. The ship is safe due to protective measures but you aren't. The blowback slams you into the hard jet doors. A sickening crunch as your body hits the cold metal. Your vision becomes hazy as you hit the ground hard. Spots dancing in your vision as you crawl away from the jet.

Everything fucking hurt. You vaguely hear the doors opening again and the hands-on your face. Someone's talking to you but you don't register a thing they say. Which landed you back in the lab. Right now getting patched up.

"Thanks Hank." You say as you hop off the table. You decline any help getting to your room and awkwardly walk to the doors. To your surprise, Logan stands right outside of them. Arms crossed a really pissed off look on his face.

"Logan, always a pleasure." You flash a smile and he rolls his eyes. He stalks after you as you walk slowly to the elevator.

"Did Charles send you to check up on me or something because I'm really not in the mood."

"What the fuck were you thinking?" He snarls. He slams his hand on a button and the elevator stops.

"Logan I really want to go to bed." You groan as you try to push past him but to no avail. It was like a brick wall.

"No, you're going to shut up and listen. I don't know what compels you to be so incredibly stupid but you need to fucking quit it." You shrink under his harsh words.

"I've seen people like you before, always trying to play hero. You're reckless. Putting yourself into danger so you can be the one to save the day." You let him rip into you. Not speaking a word he slams his hand on the button and the elevator moves again.

"Nothing to say?" He rolls his eyes and storms out of the elevator.

"I'm sorry." You whisper to no one as the elevator doors close on you.

No one sees you for a while. You stay locked up in your room. Not even coming out for food. Every day some student brings food to your door and leaves it there. You wonder who told them to do that. Jean maybe, probably 'Ro.

Sometimes you take it just so they don't worry but other times you leave it there until the next plate comes. You spend your day staring at the ceiling or sleeping. Sometimes though you're too tired to sleep. Does it make sense? No but it's how you feel. Logan's words replaying in your head.

If Beast and Scott were like family, Logan was something more. As much as you tried to hide it your feelings had changed, evolved from friendly into something more. You cared so much about what he thinks of you even when you don’t want to. You can’t help it.

So his words cut deeper than anyone else's. You aren't trying to be a hero or take the glory. But maybe you are? Maybe you want that love and recognition from people, from him. Does it matter though? What your intentions were?

Apparently, you come across as an egotistical reckless person with a hero complex. It's not like that. You argue with yourself about it all the time. Shifting from hero to villain in an instant. You're selfish. You do it for attention.

No wonder he thinks that way. Does everyone else think so too? But you care. You're an X-men but you aren't one of the X-men. You're not the one people think of when they come to save the day and you're okay with that. Your expendable. Better you than them. Right? You've hurt people in your past. You aren't worthy of this life. This family. You need to prove yourself. Sacrifice yourself if needed.

The spiral won't stop. It never. Stops. You can't get it to stop. You just want peace. Just one day where you don't wake up and feel guilt in everything you do. A loud knock on your door rings through your room but you don't move.

"Hey." It's Logan. What is he doing here?

"Look I uh, I shouldn't have snapped at you. The other day." You can tell he's struggling to get his thoughts out. Not that he didn't want to do it, he just didn't know how.

"I was angry." He waits a few moments and you hear a frustrated growl.

"Come on firefly, you've been holed up here long enough." You roll onto your side to face the door. Looking at his shoes through the small crack in the bottom. He's pacing.

"Seriously I-er We're getting worried alright?" You don't catch the slip of his tongue. Too wrapped up feeling guilty. Again. Guilty for hurting your team, for not understanding what was wrong with you. Guilty for even feeling this way in the first place.

"I thought you should know that Remy's making your favorite dinner." You hear him sigh and walk away. More guilt creeps up on you. You're making everyone worry about you.

You're being selfish, just pull it together. Beating yourself up over and over again. As the sun goes down the smell of dinner wafts through your room. It doesn't normally do that so you suspect someone is trying to lure you out. Enough of this.

You get up and change your clothes. You stop and look in the mirror, trying to put on your best smile. You don't look very convincing but it should be fine. Peeking your head out you hear a lot of voices coming from the kitchen. You quietly walk into the doorway.

It takes a second but someone notices you and then everyone does. The talking dies down as they just stare at you. It's really uncomfortable. You feel terrible for making them worry. You don't deserve to be worried about like this.

"All this for me?" You joke and thankfully the room grows louder again.

You say hi to some of the people who come up to you. A plate is placed in front of you and you graciously accept it. Looking across the room you can see Logan staring at you. He's silent but watching your every move.

"So how's recovery coming? You've been taking bed rest pretty seriously." Scott says with a smile.

You know he doesn't mean anything by it but for some reason, it stings. Like you've been lazy or something. You're a mutant. Recovery shouldn't take this long. You're not putting in the work. You're wasting your time. You don't get to rest.

"Hey? Firefly?" You snap out of it and put on a smile.

"Going great, it's nice being able to sleep without interruption." People seem to accept that answer and the conversation moves on.

You pick at your food, moving it around your plate and chopping it up but never putting it in your mouth. It's your favorite meal but you just, can't bring yourself to eat it right now.

The room is so full of talking and laughter but for some reason, you feel a million years away. Like you're lonely. Really, really lonely. How can that even be? To feel so alone while being surrounded by so many people.

As dinner wraps up you quietly slip out. Sneaking out to the gardens instead. It's cold and you have no coat but you don't care. Some fresh air is what you need. Maybe the trees can tell you what's wrong with you. You find a small bench and sit down.

The stars shine so nicely tonight. You wonder what it'd be like to be a star. If it's freeing to be up so high. Or is it lonely? To lack the warmth of the sun and be a million light years away from each other.

"What are you doing out here?" Logan stands in front of you. You hadn't even noticed him.

"Nothing." He lights a cigar and takes a seat next to you. His legs spread out, knocking his knees into yours.

"So you wanna tell me what's going on?"

"What are you talking about?" You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to hide away.

"You may have fooled everyone else but I know somethings going on in that head of yours." You just shrug.

"I'm fine."

"Bullshit." Logan scoffs. You watch the soft glow of cigar ash tumble to the ground.

The light dies out as it hits the cold cement. He wants to help, or at least he wants to listen. For some reason, you can't get the words you. Anger replaces any rational thought. You want him to leave, to not care so damn much.

"Why do you even care? Last time I checked you don't do these heart to hearts." You snap.

The cold air bites your face and you shiver. Your nails scratch down your arms harshly. The slight stinging soothes you in some fucked up way. Logan notices and grabs onto your hand. Taking it and holding it in his warm one.

"Just leave me alone Logan." You try taking your hand away but he won't let you.

"No. You're right I don't do the sappy shit but this is different. It's more than you're letting on." You feel a pit forming in your stomach.

Everything in your body screams for you to run. To hide and put up your walls and ignore this ever happened. But then you look into his pretty hazel eyes. The rough and tough Wolverine was silently begging you to stay. To talk to him.

"I don't try to be a hero, It's not a hero complex, or a savior complex or whatever you want to call it." His thumb rubs over your hand as you talk. He wants to butt in but he lets you talk.

"I don't know. It's a lot. What goes on in my head." You start to count the blades of grass that you can see. Anything to keep you from breaking down.

"I don't care if I get hurt if I'm helping people. I just. It's how I help. My life is worth saving people. Saving you guys. I don't care if..." You trail off. You can't get the words right.

"You don't care if you die." Logan finishes. He swallows harshly. It breaks his heart to hear but that small part of him understands. More than you’ll ever know.

"Kind of. It's complicated alright? I'm not actively trying to die but...Look I don't think I deserve this life sometimes. I've caused a lot of hurt and I've lost so many people." Logan reaches up and wipes away a tear.

There's a lot of pain that sits with a lifetime of trauma. Pain that you've chosen to ignore over and over again. Burying it until you've convinced yourself this is what life is like. What you deserve.

"It's stupid right? There's so much that I should be grateful for. What right do I have to complain about?"

"You're a mutant, your life hasn't been easy."

"Yeah I guess." Logan doesn't let go of your hand. He holds it, squeezes it. Its warm and fits perfectly with yours.

"Life sucks, a lot. Trust me I understand. It's like the days blend together right? There's this massive hole that just seems to get bigger. You can stuff it with things, try and close it up or even pretend it never exists. But it never goes away." Logan says.

He understands because he feels the same way. Maybe not exactly how you feel but he knows what its like. To have this, hatred for yourself grow and fester until you can't breathe. You convince yourself that nothings going to change so why even bother?

"I just want it to go away." You whisper sadly.

"It will, we're tough. We survive."

"What if I'm tired of surviving? What if I don't want to be strong anymore?" You confess. You feel like you have to be strong all the time and it weighs you down like bricks. You're drowning.

"That's okay, you come to me and I'll carry what you can't." He pulls you in closer and you bury your face in his neck. He's warm, protecting you from the chill.

"Just please, promise me no more heroics on missions okay?" He mumbles.

You scared the shit out of him. You were bleeding and in so much pain. You couldn't even register that it was his hands on your face. That he carried you to the jet and held you while you went in and out of consciousness. He stayed by your side until you got back. He disappeared to the background as Scott took you to the lab. His worry and fear of losing you turning to anger. Wondering why you continue to put yourself in danger.

"Okay." You lean in and press a light kiss to his cheek.

"Logan, Can I ask why you're out here? How did you even notice something was wrong?" It's not that you weren't friends, in fact you were closer than most. But Logan isn't really the best with this kind of thing. Yet somehow, he always knows what to say.

"You mean a lot to me firefly..."

He could tell you that he loves you right here and now. Tell you that you're everything to him. How he's fallen in love with you over the years. But he keeps it inside. It's not the right time. Sometimes love isn't enough to get better and he knows that there's work to be done. He doesn't want to put this pressure on you to get better for him. He wants you to get better for yourself. He'll be by your side for the whole thing though. He won't let you spiral as long as he's there.

"You mean a lot to me too Logan." You smile, a real one this time. He caresses your face, tilting your head as his lips kiss your forehead. You giggle as beard tickles your skin.

"There's that sweet sound," He hums. He takes off his jacket and places it on your shoulders. The worn leather smells like him.

"You really think things get better?" You ask as you link your hand with his. He doesn't answer right away. He'd be a hypocrite to preach that everything's fine and dandy all the time. Sometimes he doesn't believe it himself. But he keeps going, every day. Just as you do.

"Yeah I do, I don't know when. But someday it will." You nod and rest your head on his shoulder. It might take a long time until you truly feel better but you can keep going. Waking up and living.

With a hope, no a belief, that someday. It will get better.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett angst #logan howlett x you

390 notes · View notes

messenger-of-babel · 2 months ago

Text

Doorstep Ghosts

Summary: Dick takes you into his apartment when you appear on his doorstep, unable to cope with the recent accident. (Dick Grayson x reader)

Word Count: 1.9K

Notes: Is this even angst anymore? I don’t know. I might have missed the mark a little bit. Warning for sensitive topics and alluded to mentions of suicide. Maddd survivors guilt. If you are triggered I’d suggest to avoid all together just in case. If you are feeling that way, please reach out to someone and call the panic line in your country. There's always someone willing to listen. <3

I had to try and research the difference of whump vs. angst and I still don’t fully understand so I’m just gonna run off of vibes. This might classify more as hurt/comfort actually. Waah idk. Much love, RiRi~ xx

━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Since the accident, Dick had been keeping close tabs on you.

He had asked Tim if Red Robin could keep a tab on you, even though Tim had his own ordeals to handle back in Gotham. Bruce had even chipped in when Dick asked, transferring him some money so Dick could move you into a safer apartment. Dick hated taking Bruce's money, he could do fine without it, and quite frankly he didn't want to take what he hadn't worked for himself. However, when it came to your safety, he put that aside for a moment. He wasn't going to risk it, so within the week you were in a nicer part of Bludhaven with a state-of-the-art security system secretly set up to ping him if anything went wrong.

He had been so careful, so meticulous about making sure that you were okay that when you appeared on his front step one night, soaked through to the bone and dripping on his doorstep he was stunned. Your eyes were red rimmed and puffy, snot building in your swollen nose. Your arms hugged around yourself to bite back the chill of winter, hair matted to your forehead.

"Can I come in?" you sniffle, quaking. Wordlessly he steps back, arm opening to usher you in and shut the door behind you. His mind is reeling, unsure how you managed to find your way here, halfway across town, without him or anyone back in Gotham noticing. He frowns softly, pulling you into the living room and disappearing to find you a towel. Bringing two fresh ones back, he hands one to you and unfurls the other. Softly he begins to dry your hair while you wipe down the rest of your body, jacket peeling away and making a wet plop on the floor next to you. "It's unsafe for you to be out, especially this late at night. How did you even get here?" He murmurs, squeezing the water from your scalp.

"I took the train." you say back weakly, voice crackly from hours of crying. His frown deepens, fingers clenching in concern.

"You know the train is dangerous on the best of days. No way to get off or go anywhere if something escalates. Not to mention, only gangs use the rail this late. You know better, why didn't you call me?" he chides softly, flinching at the way you hang your head at his tone. he hadn't meant for it to come out like that, he was just concerned for your safety.

"I didn't want to bother you," you sniffle back. "Not to come get me."

"It worries me more when you don't let me come get you. If you wanted company, I would have come to your place-"

"No." you say firmly, towel wrapped around your shoulders and voice firm. "Anywhere but there, anywhere else just not-" you cut yourself off, biting on your lip harshly. He turns you to face him, hands soft as they grip your shoulders.

"No what?" he asks softly. "Come on sweetheart, you gotta work with me here."

"It doesn't feel like home. It's not-" you begin to break into a sob again, and he sighs while rubbing your shoulders.

Home.

He knows how badly you want to go home to your old apartment. The one you had moved into the very first day you set foot into Bludhaven and poured your heart and soul into. The one that you shared with your elder brother, or had.

"I know. But you can't go back there sweetheart," he murmurs, thumbs running small circles over your skin. "It's an active crime scene, and it's unsafe-"

"It's home." you say weakly, hands coming up to wipe at your eyes. "I just want to go home, want to go to my bed in my room."

"You do have a room," he tries to soothe. "I made sure we found you somewhere nice and big, where you can take the master bedroom and have all the freedom to do what you want with decorating it, just like you always wanted."

He can't stand the way his voice sounds so condescending, as if throwing money at the problem as going to make the wound in your heart heal over. He knew it couldn't erase the horrors that you saw or fix the gaping hole in your life. He knew it wasn't going to bring your brother back, but he couldn't find the right words to take the pain away.

"What did you come here for?" he asks gently, crouching down in front of you so he can meet your gaze, heart clenching at the way you hang your head to hide your face. "I've got the spare bed made, or you can share mine. I'll even sleep in the spare room if you want it to yourself, you know I've got the best mattress." He tries to make a teasing remark, but it wavers with uncertainty.

"I…I was thinking." you murmur, hands beginning to quake. His eyebrows furrow, hands coming to grip yours.

"Thinking?" he inquires softly, not liking the ton of your voice.

"If I had been me instead." you hoarsely whisper, making panic flare through his chest.

"It's lucky it wasn't." he counters quickly. "This wasn't your fault, and it wouldn't have made anything better. You're here still, and that means you keep fighting." he stresses, thumbs tracing the back of your hand.

"It wasn’t lucky for him though," you say, voice trembling badly. "It was my fault it happened; it was all my fault. I'm the one who took the photographs of the deal and gave it to him, I'm the one who said he needed to stand up to other police on the force, I'm the one who said he should try to go against the corrupt ones. He took my advice, and it got him killed."

"Sweetheart, no." he tries to stop your rambling. "Listen-"

"It should have been me." you finally sob. "It should have been me, I don't know how I'm supposed to just keep going when all I want is to be with him again." you cry, breath coming out in chokes and eyes clenching shut. Your hands shake in his grip, trying to catch your breath in between sobs. "I want so badly to see him again." you manage to whisper out, voice tight. "I wanna follow, I just want to go."

Dick stands to his full height upon hearing that, pulling you tight. He buries his face in your hair, one arm coming around your back to press you firmly against him, the other on the back of your head. "Stop that." he says firmly. "We don't talk like that; we don't give into those thoughts." His voice comes out stern, but the sharpness of his words is dulled by the panic they're wrapped in.

"I... I know…" you choke out. "I’m... I’m confused Dick. I was convinced but then I got scared about it and I-I…" you trail off, breathing becoming quick and broken by hiccups. "I ran all the way here. I'm a coward, but in that moment, I just felt-"

"Scared." he finishes softly, hand softly petting your damp hair. "You were scared."

You nod against him, sniffling into his worn sleep shirt. "I don't know what to do. I don’t know where to go, where to turn." you whisper fearfully. Dick tightens his arms around you, senses dulling around him as he focuses on you. The sharp intakes of your breath, the erratic ticking of your pulse. "You stay here." he says softly. "With me. You tell me when you're having those thoughts, and I'll make them go away. You won't have to be scared, not when you're with me."

"And when you're not with me?" you ask quietly. He frowns at that, pulling back slightly to look at you.

"Sweetheart," he says adoringly, the faint traces of a warm smile gracing his lips. "Even if you can't see me, I'll always be with you."

Your eyes water more, and you let your head fall forward again. "When you have no one else to turn to, don't forget that you can turn back." he murmurs gently. "Because I'll always be behind you. Always, every step of the way." you say nothing back for a moment, but he holds you as you shake.

"Why?" you ask softly, hiccupping.

"Because I love you." he replies instantly, and you look up at him. Your eyes ware nearly swollen shut from the amount of crying you've been doing, and quite frankly, a mess. "I love you." he repeats. "So don't you dare try to leave, okay?" his own voice wavers, eyes clouding with a sheen of concern. More and more under his soothing you begin to relax, until you're barely standing by yourself. He guides you to bed, helping you change out of the wet clothes and into some of his freshly laundered ones before slipping you under the sheets. He gives you your favourite side of the bed before following suit.

As soon as your head hits the pillow you're out like a light, hand still gripping his softly. He adjusts so he's comfortable, not letting your hand go. With a soft sigh he stares at your worried and beaten form, the worry lines that have formed on your forehead and the bags that have developed under your eyes. You look exhausted, with faint tremors even as your breath evens and you fall deeper into sleep.

He can't even begin to comprehend the horrors that you had seen coming back from work that night, entering your apartment as usual only to walk in on a gruesome scene like that. he had seen it himself, as Nightwing. He had only seen the aftermath though, once the body had already been taken away. He never got to see the body, never saw the carnage that undoubtably the mob had left behind. What he had seen though was the blood splatters over the wall, and the array of household items that were being bagged for murder weapons. He had seen the message scrawled on the wall, crimson letters dripping with a warning. He had seen you, sitting with the paramedics as you stared off into the distance, eyes unseeing as they draped a shock blanket over your shoulders.

He moved himself closer to you, pulling you into him. He wasn’t going to let something like that happen to you, not if he could help it. he was Nightwing, if anything, he should have the power to stop these things. However, the fear that it would slip through his fingers plagued the back of his mind, the nightmare of you fading away like your brother bouncing around painfully inside his skull. He couldn't bear to lose you, not to the mob, not to yourself. He takes a deep breath to try and control his own emotions, careful not to wake you up. As he exhales through his nose, he lets himself relax slightly, gently snaking an arm over you for extra protection. He doubted he'd be sleeping very deeply tonight, but it was the price he was willing to pay to keep you safe.

He'd do it every night for the rest of his life if it meant keeping you by his side, keeping the flickering flame in your heart alive.

He'd keep his arms around you till eternity ended, just so you could know that even if you didn't think you had anyone, you would know you had him.

That is the thought that finally lets Dick flutter into sleep quietly himself, room filling with the sound of the rain outside and the quiet duet of even breaths.

304 notes · View notes

mbsneur · 5 months ago

Text

Last Room Pt. 2

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: you hate alexia but your best friend Salma wants you to get along well with alexia

Warnings: Smut Ahead 18+

please read this text before going to the story (i‘m going to make a small series out of „last room“ so if you all want more parts let me know)

please don't be so strict with me but rather write to me what I can do better or what you wished were different. also tell me if you find the story too long or too short.. Also write to me if you liked it. My requests are always open (and English is not my first language so don't be mad at me) and if you have any ideas for the future about who I should write please tell me… the topics I will choose by myself unless you have a request for one or two people I will Read everything.. in the next survey I will take a few ideas from the old survey and new ones…. now read and I hope you like it <33

Alexia turns you onto your back and looks into your gasping face. She places small kisses on your breasts, which makes your insides ache again. After a few kisses and light sucking, her head comes to the level of your head. "Bésame" she whispers to you before you take her face in your hands and your lips turn into a deep kiss you pull on Alexia's shirt to give her the signal to take it off she pushes your hands away from her and holds them tightly above your head you want more you want her feel again

Alexia lets go of your lips, breathing heavily, and her other hand finds its way to your hard nipples to pinch them. You let out a whimper right into her mouth, which makes her smile slightly. She takes your whole breast in her hand and kneads it lightly you moan and start to fidget with your legs to somehow create friction

you grab her shoulders making her look at you "ale fuck me"

"Do you want me to fuck the hate out of you mh?" She says and grabs your hands again so that you don't have a chance to touch her any way. "Please fuck me until I'm a good girl" with an eager nod. Alexia pushes your thighs apart with her knee

Alexia sits up and look down to you She looked at your whole body with a sparkle in her eyes like you were a goddess or something. She pulls her shirt over her head and her toned stomach appears. You knew that Alexia's body was magical But you've never seen him in this state before. Her upper body glistens slightly with her sweat. She slides her hands under your bottom to put you in the right position. She leans down and starts nibbling on the inside of your thigs

You gasp and Alexia's tongue slides over your thighs. Each touch of hers makes you twitch and whimper. Her big hands reach into your ass and lift you slightly. She knows exactly how to tease you perfectly so that you become a moaning mess. You thought this teasing never happened An end until finally her tongue shoots out and licks a long strip from your hole to your clitoris. You wince slightly and close your eyes to feel everything from Alexia

Alexia licked small circles around your clitoris and your whimpers begin to turn into moans Alexia smacks your pussy and lets a small moan from her lips the vibrations send waves from your clitoris into your head she finally starts to lick your clitoris precisely and Finally, taking it between her teeth and sucking on it with a little pressure, she allows you to put your hands in her hair to move it to where you need it most

your hips start rocking into her face she starts sucking on your clit harder you moan loudly "Alexia your tongue feels so good- f-fuck" you moan and she dips her tongue into your hole and circles your walls poking her nose against your clitoris which triggers the perfect pressure your breathing becomes more irregular and your hips start to twitch more "Alexia-please I'm so close it feels so good don't stop" Alexia doesn't let go of you she notices how tight your walls are around her tongue "come on my tongue" she says between licks and thrusts, your legs start to tremble and your back arches up so much that Alexia has to push you down a little so that she doesn't lose you, all the heat rises to your head and you scream loudly "ale I'm cumming fuck I-" you cum with a loud moan from her name all over her tongue she doesn't stop moving

You want to pull her away from your pussy by her hair, but her head presses harder into you and she takes in all your juices. Your overstimulated whimper turns into moans of pleasure. You know that she wants to make you come again. Her tongue still works precisely in your hole she makes your eyes roll and your hips rock again. you didn't know when the last orgasm ended but you notice how the new one increased your noises become pornographic "ale - I'm close" you warn and she looks in from below your glassy eyes she sees how you squirm and how close you are again "can I cum" you moan and look at her hurtfully "mh" she simply answers without teasing you any further your head hits back on the mattress and your legs twitch hard around her head your whole body moves from overstimulation, your vision goes black and you only notice the trembling that you have all over your body

Alexia moved away from you and you immediately felt the emptiness. You tried to feel for her. She placed herself next to you and brushed the strands of hair out of your face and gently kissed the way from your cheek to your ear. "Let's see what your cheeky mouth can still do other than being cheeky?"

It's very short I'm not in the mood to write but let me know if you all want a part 3 <3

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #fitblr #woso appreciation #woso blurbs #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso one shot #woso smut #woso soccer #alexia x reader #alexia putellas

305 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 days ago

Text

The Holiday Spirit

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

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

Summary: You don't have much reason to enjoy the holidays until a generous man walks in the door.

Character: Captain Syverson

Day Thirteen of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - i just can't wait until the holidays are over

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

You watch the snow gather at the corners of the large window pane with dread. The longer it falls, the more your anxiety rises. How on earth are you supposed to get home? Not too mention the more important question, how are any customers supposed to get in the store?

Your phone jingles at the very thought, your manager calling as if she could hear your silent plea for rescue. You grab your phone but don't answer until the fourth ring. You don't want her to know you've been doom scrolling the weather forecast.

Gloria greets you without formality, "what's it look like there?"

"Um, bad," you answer honestly. "Snowy."

"I mean customers. What are the numbers?"

"Oh..." you blink and look around the empty shop. "I think most people are staying home. There hasn't been anyone since I started."

"What about the walkway? Have you shoveled it?" It's as much an accusation as a question. "They won't come in if they can't get in."

You wish you had the courage to mention that it isn't just the sidewalk, you haven't seen car drive by in over an hour. Those you can see are parked and not going anywhere as the snow piles over their windows. You frown and again, look at the windows in horror.

"Go out and clear it and maybe you'll sell a few pieces. No point having the lights on if you're not doing anything," she snips.

"Meredith closed up across the street--"

"I don't care what that old crone did. Get out there. The shovel's in the back room." She commands.

"Okay," you agree meekly.

You know you shouldn't be such a pushover but you need this job. Even if it isn't much. It's a small independent shop that sells candles, lotions, and random nicknacks. You're not really sure what to call it.

You hang up and go into the backroom and grab your coat. It's not the best. A sherpa thing you go used at the Good Will. Your boots are a couple years old and you can tell. You wear three pairs of socks just to keep your toes from hurting as bad.

You pull on your thin gloves and grab the shovel. You approach the front door and gaze through the glass. Look at it! You'll be lucky if you don't get lost.

You go to push through the door. You have to shove your shoulder into it just to get outside as the wind blows angrily. The door slams behind you and you plant the shovel into the thick snow as you look around. Ugh, where do you even begin?

This time of year is always too much. Who decided the holidays needed to be in the middle of winter? It's not fair, but life just isn't.

You scoop up the snow bit by bit. Your muscles ache as you try to heave into out of the way but as the powder builds, it's only more and more difficult to do so. As you final get clear of the door, you look back and see a new blanket of white. It doesn't matter, you'll be outside all night if you try to keep it clean.

You work your way across the store front as the sky continues to dim. It never really got light as the sun stayed hidden in the clouds. You put your head down against the swirling flakes and you grip the shovel tight. You groan and grunt each time you lift it.

"Now what they got you out here doing all this for?" A grizzly voice draws your head up and you bat your lashes as snow catches in them. You stare up at the burly man in his heavy brown coat and black toque. His beard is sparkling with flakes.

"Um, I... work in there," you nod to the store. "Gotta make sure people can get in."

"Y'all should be at home," he tuts.

"It's just me," you shrug.

"That's a shame. Damn big shame," he shakes his head, "lady like you shouldn't be out here in the cold."

"Well, it's my job, I guess," you say.

"Here," he puts his hand on the handle of the shovel, "you go in. Get warm."

"Oh, no, I couldn't--"

"Do you know what my mother would do if she knew I just walked on by a little lady like you struggling in the snow?" He argues.

"I... thank you, that's too kind. But, you probably have somewhere to be."

"I'm just walking," he assures you. "I like the snow."

"Oh, right, uh..." you let go of the shovel reluctantly. "Thanks, I... I feel bad."

"Don't. I feel bad seein' ya shiver your nose off. Go on."

You scrunch up your mouth guiltily and push your shoulders up. You back away step by step as you stare at him. It's been a while since you met a single person who wasn't demanding or just downright rude. Maybe holiday cheer isn't dead.

You retreat inside with a sheepish smile and let out a brr as the door swings shut behind you. You rub your hands together then peel of the wet gloves. You tuck them into your pocket and unzip your jacket. You go to the back room and chew your lip.

You're not the Christmassy type or whatever other special occasions are going on. You hate it all. It's too shiny and loud. Too greedy the way people will argue over something as simple as a three-wick candle or face scrub.

What family you do have aren't very cozy. You haven't talked to either of your parents in two years and your sister never really answers your texts. It's just you and it isn't so bad. Other people just make things complicated. Without them, you have the control.

You put your things away and tramp back out to the till. You can see the snow flying through the windows. The man effortlessly throws chunks of it out of his way. Somehow, he looks even bigger from there.

You feel awkward, especially with no one else around. You go to a shelf to distract yourself, turning the jarred candles label out to appear busy. The bell above the door jingles and you look over your shoulder at the man. He pauses before he enters to shake the shovel off then leans it against the wall.

He looks around as you retreat from the candle display and watch him. There’s not much for him here. You’re sure he’ll be off soon enough. He rubs his hands together then strips off his mitts. He slips them into his pockets and gives a curious glance over the table of bath bombs and salts.

“You know,” he brushes his fingers over his beard so some of the melting snow falls away, “I’m looking for a gift.”

“Oh? Well, we have lots here,” you keep your distance. You’re not sure you believe him. He’s probably just humouring you. “Thanks again for shoveling. You know, you don’t have to stick around. Actually...” you peer through the windows again, “should probably head out sooner than later.”

“I got time,” he argues. “She’s real pretty. Girl I’m buyin’ for. So she probably wants somethin’ smells pretty too.”

“Right, uh...” you twist your fist around a finger. You might as well get a single sale. It’s more than you hoped for. “We have some nice seasonal candles. Apple crisp, or candy cane, oh, the fruitcake is kind nice.”

“You like candles?” He asks.

“Sometimes. I don’t get the big ones.”

“Ah,” he comes closer and you make room for him to browse. He picks up a smaller one and sniffs it. It looks tiny in his beefy hand. All of him sticks out among the dainty aesthetic of the boutique. “Mm, caramel brulee.”

He reads the side and his eyes scan the shelves again, “what else do you like? Think maybe you know best.”

“Oh, um, I...” you have to stop yourself from saying you don’t shop here. It’s too expensive. You get the discounts on dupes down at the mall. “Bath bombs are popular right now. Especially these snowflake ones. Oh and, we sell hot chocolate bombs. Those are edibles, these ones aren’t.”

You point to the table as you pass him. He follows. You laugh nervously at your own lame joke.

“Makes sense. I like hot chocolate. It’s the perfect weather for it, huh?”

“Yeah, it is,” you agree.

He comes to stand beside you as you gesture to the merchandise. You’re not used to that. The rare customer is a bit oblivious to physical space but more often they stay around the other side of the table. He’s right there.

“Face masks too. It could be a little self-care kit if you wanted,” you suggest.

“Mm, it does sound nice,” he says. “You think it’s a good present?”

“Well, I get paid to sell this stuff,” you shrug, “but yeah, it’s hot bath season.”

“Makes sense,” he nods.

You step back and give him space. He hums and circles the table as you go back to the counter. You check your phone. *Extreme Weather Warning*. You should call Gloria back and let her know. If the county says you should go home, you’ll insist on doing so.

“Cherry blossom or... vanilla coconut?” The man asks.

“Hm, vanilla,” you smile at him then quickly look at your phone again. You type out a text to Gloria.

He surprises you as he approaches and puts down a selection of items. The candle, a few bombs, some face masks, a shampoo bar, one of the little lotion and balm kits, and a spa headband. It’s a lot and it’s all very cute.

“Think that’s good, don’t you?” He asks.

“I think so,” you scan each item. “A very special lady indeed.”

“Sure is,” he taps his fingers on the counter as his eyes bore into you. “I’m Sy, by the way...” he reads your name tag aloud and you’re surprised until you remember you’re wearing it.

“Sy,” you repeat back. “Need a bag? Sorry, we’re all out of wrap or I’d offer that.”

“Bag is just fine, think my girl’s easy to please. She appreciates the simple things,” he grins and grips the edge of the counter.

“Alright,” you unfold a paper bag and gently place the items inside. “I hope likes it all. I’m sure she’ll love it.”

“Me too,” he takes out his card and swipes.

The machine dings and the receipt prints. You tear it off and hand it over, sliding the bag across the counter. He takes the slip of paper but leaves the purchase as it is.

“Um, did I forget something?” You search the countertop, worried something rolled away.

“It’s for my lady,” he gently nudges the bag back across the counter.

“What?” You frown, confused.

“S’for you, sugar. So you can warm up tonight.”

“Tonight? Sir--”

“Sy,” he insists, “best get home before the storm gets worse.” He turns to look out the windows. “No one coming out in this. Might as well close down.”

“Sy, this is very nice of you but I’m fine. My boss wants the store open--”

“Your boss?” He turns back to you and tilts his head, “ain’t a good one if they aren’t thinking about you gettin’ home safe.” He stares you down and looms over the counter, “’sides, a lady’s only boss is her man. So you go get your coat and things and we’ll be off.”

“Sy, that’s... that’s not—I'm not your lady--”

“Not?” He narrows his eyes. “I know you ain’t got another man, you wouldn’t be here if ya did.”

“I-- no—but--”

“You come with me or I stay,” he crosses his arms and leans his elbows on the counter. He plumes a snarl out of his nose, “up to you, but you’re not goin’ out in this alone, sweet thing. Need me there to dig ya out, don’t you?”

You flinch and shake your head, “I don’t-- I don’t know you--”

“Sure ya do, I’m Sy,” he grins. “And I know you. You’re the most pretty girl I ever seen.”

You stare at him. He’s as formidable as the heaps of snow building outside the shop. As dangerous as the patches of ice forming on the road. He is a storm in man’s clothes. He’ll bowl you over just as easily as those winds.

Just like the blizzard blowing in the street, you can’t escape him.

#captain syverson #dark captain syverson #dark!captain syverson #captain syverson x readaer #sand castle #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #december daze #navy and roo's sleepover

169 notes · View notes

reidmania · 3 months ago

Text

beartober masterlist ୨♡୧

hi hi im so excited!! umm these wont be posted on specific days bc i said so.. (too much commitment for me!) please remember that you're responsible for the content you consume and that many of this fics are covering heavy topics, don't read if you may find them triggering based off the warnings at the start of each chapter. these are all hurt x comfort, fluff or angst, (right now)

01. to be loved is to be known. all spencer needs to know you've had a bad day is your comfort movie playing on the tv when he gets home from work.

02. In the absence of you. to find out youre pregnant, and experience a miscarriage all in the time spencer is in prison, is a lot, then struggling to figure out if you should tell him or not when he is home.

03. slow it down. when you feel like youre falling behind as life picks up its pace, spencer is there to slow it down.

04. love letters. when spencer is away on a case and you feel alone, you turn to his written love letters for comfort.

05. braids? when bored stuck at home because of his knee injury, spencer asks you to teach him how to braid his hair

06. bandaids don't fix dead. after a traumatic case, you shut down and engage in more (moderately) reckless behaviour, spencer's not a fan of you putting yourself in danger.

07..home sweet home, you come home to find dad!spencer dancing with your daughter

08. a replacement to it. after you let it slip that you rely on spencer for hapiness, he thinks its best for a conversation regarding your relationship.

09. living for the hope of it all. spencer wants more than the arrangement you can offer him.

10. -- to be determined

11. -- to be determined

12. --to be determined

guys im so excited. im plotting against you all rn.

#spencer reid #reidmania #criminal minds #criminal minds show #criminalmindsfans #spencer reid x reader #spencer criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #bee talks #spencer reid x oc #beartober #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction

224 notes · View notes

sleepyparalysisdmon · 1 month ago

Text

SVT helping a partner with trauma

Requested? Yes!

Genre: comfort

TW/CW: Implications of trauma

A/N: This will be less of a discussion about traumatic events themselves (if mentioned it’s brief only to give context), but rather the feelings and responses one might have afterwards. Trauma is varied and so is everyone's reactions to it, so I tried to include a variety of scenarios so there’s a little bit of something for everyone.

A/N #2/Warning: Please use caution when reading if you might find the topic triggering. This is meant to be comforting, but if you find that it isn’t, come back later or skip altogether.

Seungcheol

Money is an interesting topic between the two of you. At first, he thinks that you just like to keep a tight control over your finances, and he respects it immensely, applauding you for being money-smart. But he notices that you deny yourself a lot of things in an effort to penny pinch, and flat out refuse when he offers to ease your burden on little things like needing to replace something around your apartment or pay a bill that has an upcoming due date. In a vulnerable moment, you tell him the abbreviated version of the story - you depended on someone financially and then they left you with nothing, and you refuse to be stuck in that situation again. From then on he encourages your financial independence and for the most part respects your wishes for him to not spend a lot on you, even if it pains him sometimes. But you best believe the moment you accept it he’s already sliding you his card or heading to the store himself. Wants you to know that you can rely on him, but knows he has to earn that.

Jeonghan

You’re a flirt. It’s one of the things that he loves most about you. He's kissed you a few times since starting to date, but he notices how you pull back sooner rather than later, putting space between the two of you. You feel safer with words than you do with touch. He’s okay with that. If you ever try to explain yourself - doesn’t matter if it's a simple ‘I want to wait’, or a more detailed reason - he’ll shake his head. “You come to me if and when you're ready,” he’ll say simply without an ounce of teasing. I do believe that if and when you do approach him, he’ll want to have a not-so-sexy but still very needed conversation to make sure you’re both on the same page and he understands your boundaries.

Joshua

On the very first date, you tell him you don't drink and don’t really like to be around alcohol. Noted, he thinks, and doesn't order another drink beyond the one he already has in front of him. He also doesn’t have a problem not keeping it at home. However, there’s a social element to drinking that is sometimes unavoidable. He sticks to non-alcoholic drinks with you when you have to go to these events and takes you home before anyone you’re with can be too far gone. You’ll tell him that he can have a drink if he wants and that he doesn't need your permission - but he's supposed to be the one that makes you feel safest, so he’ll shrug it off. He doesn’t miss it.

Jun

Absolutely respects your work ethic and even admires it. But sometimes he’s concerned by how you always go in early and stay late, take on way too many responsibilities, and never, ever take a sick day or vacation. When he asks you about it, you simply say that you can’t lose this job. He can sympathize because it would be devastating to not be able to do what he does for a living, but he recognizes that it’s not passion, but rather fear, that drives you to overwork yourself. Does little things like driving you to work so you show up on time rather than super early, or making plans right after work so you can’t stay late. He’ll also book a vacation to somewhere that you just can't refuse. Anything to encourage rest, really.

Hoshi

Bless his heart, but he's trying to be funny. He hears you come in and hides behind a door, jumping out at you when you enter the room. Does not expect for you to cry and panic, and cries and panics himself, profusely apologizing. Once you both are calm, he doesn't press for details, accepting your explanation that someone that used to be in your life used to do that sort of thing, but that it wasn't all fun and games. Will never, ever be doing that again, and if you're ever around his group members and they get a bright idea, expect that he'll put a stop to it before it even starts.

Wonwoo

You’ve lost someone close to you. Whether it was a shock or not, whether you were there or not, doesn’t matter. He’s sympathetic to the trauma of losing someone and knows there isn’t a ton he can do to fix it. But he’ll do the little things. He’ll make sure you eat, even if it’s a little and even if he needs to feed you. He’ll make sure you shower, even if he has to get in and wash your hair for you. He’ll make sure you find a balance between sleep and activity, even if he has to gently drag you outside for some fresh air or carry you to bed himself. Also knows you can't really acknowledge any of it right now, but he’ll keep doing it anyway.

Woozi

You guys don't fight, well, ever. You both are too laid back. But something big happens and you both have had bad days. Jihoon’s not proud when he loses his temper a bit, shouting. Immediately does not like how you fold into yourself and back away. You’ve confided in him before that your home life involved a lot of arguing growing up. He kind of feels like he’s looking at a kid version of you in the past and it makes him feel nauseous. He takes a deep breath, apologizes, and says that you both should cool down. Later that night, you two sit on the couch, talk it out, and promise to call a timeout next time one of you gets upset. Will absolutely never raise his voice at you again.

He checks your phone for something, not trying to be invasive, but because you had something he needed. He accidentally stumbles across quite a few reminders that you're way overdue for a check up at the doctor’s office. He apologizes that he was accidentally nosy, but asks if you’ve been able to schedule it yet. He can tell that you’re uncomfortable, bordering on scared at the mention of it. You’ve told him before that you were sick as a child and spent a not-so-insignificant time in the hospital and have since then hated clinical settings. So, so understanding, but also so, so insistent that you should take care of yourself. He’ll take off work in a heartbeat to go with you and hold your hand if it will help.

Mingyu

You both are working on a grocery list and you ask him to add another case of bottled water. He looks at you quizzically because you already have an untouched case in the closet and the fridge is stocked. You pause, frowning. “But what if we run out?” You’ll say in a small, worried voice. He knows you’ve lived through a natural disaster or two before you moved here. You don't talk about it much, but he’s seen clips on TV before about what that can be like. He nods. “You’re right. I’ll get another one.” He gets two. That closet will never be empty if it makes you feel better.

Minghao

You’re getting repeated phone calls from a random number. When you tell him this, at first, he nods, kind of shrugging it off. Spam calls happen all the time. (God only knows I get like ten a day from telemarketers.) Still, he watches your anxiety spike every time it happens and gently presses for a bit of an explanation. You tell him shortly that you’ve gotten harassing phone calls in the past and have had to change numbers a time or two because of it. From that point forward, if he's with you and your phone rings from an unknown number, he's holding his hand out expectantly. Doesn't matter if it’s a telemarketer or not. Will always answer the phone for you or simply get you a new number until you’re comfortable.

Seungkwan

Listen, I think he's ready to fight any day. He’s kind of surprised when you ask if he wants to meet your parents and especially surprised at how anxious you are about it. He sees why immediately because they aren’t nice people. Tolerates very few negative or demeaning comments directed at you and certainly won't tolerate any displays of violence, so I expect this to be a short visit ending with him deciding it’s time to go. Also won’t accept any apology from you for how they behaved and after some consideration will encourage you to limit contact.

Vernon

When you tell him early on that you don’t drive, he just shrugs. He’ll take the bus or walk with you any day. But one night, you guys have gone out. When you walk out to go home, you realize it’s raining and that you’ve missed the last bus. Vernon shrugs, saying he’ll just call an uber or taxi. You panic and he’s kind of surprised. Still, he puts his phone back up and waits for the rain to stop with you before walking home. You tell him you got into a car accident years ago and your injuries were minor, but you still don't like driving or riding in cars. You say it’s one of the reasons you live where you do, so you can just walk everywhere. Will always stick by you no matter what mode of transportation you choose.

Chan

You express that you don't like your new job and he’s surprised, mostly because you were so excited to start it. You tell him your coworkers are kind of cliquey, and you don't feel like you fit in. He understands, telling you that they don't have to be your friends as you can work with them. Still, you tell him you can handle a bit of rejection, but you're afraid that they might become mean or hostile, like the catty women in the last place you worked. He encourages you to focus on work for now and feel out the situation for a little bit longer. It’s not the end of the world if it doesn't work out because you still have him. Cheesy, I know, but it does make you feel better.

191 notes · View notes

queers-gambit · 9 months ago

Text

Damage Done

prompt: The Winter Soldier is activated and Bucky's lover is unlucky enough to be in proximity.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!Widow!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 5.4k+

note: oh, wow, Cherry wrote Bucky NOT in a Mafia AU?

warnings: takes place during Civil War, absolutely no plot - author just doesn't know how to shut the fuck up. cursing, violence, established relationship, small angst, injury, blood, hurt and comfort, Winter Soldier antics, choking, abrupt ending, maybe domestic violence? it's the WS.

it's really not that bad, it's not terribly descriptive but still tread carefully if triggered by these topics.

"Keep them together," Agent Everett Ross commanded, a little man with a raging Napoleon Complex, gesturing at you and Bucky; the latter held in mobile, restrictive captivity. "He doesn't play nice if he doesn't see her, or so it's said," his eyes rolled.

"You're making a huge mistake!" You barked, struggling in the restraints they had you wrapped in.

"No, I don't think so," he sneered, approaching you as Bucky's unit kept moving. "I think the mistake was letting you out of anyone's sight. Tell me, how long have you been in cahoots with the Winter Soldier?"

"He's not the Winter Soldier anymore, you jackass, he's a person! A real, live human being! His name's James but he prefers Bucky! He likes plums," you were yanked away, still snarling, "his favorite color is blue, likes motorcycles, he has real guilt over his past transgressions, and you've got the wrong guy!"

"Oh, right, like you're the best judge of character," Ross laughed.

"Natasha! Nat! Fucking tell him!" You pleaded, struggling in the hold of the men who kept iron clad restraint on you and were starting to drag you away. "You've got the wrong guy! Bucky didn't do this! I wouldn't lie - not to you, Natasha! Tell him!"

"That's touching, really sweet," Ross mocked, rolling his eyes as you were finally overpowered and lead away.

"Hang on a second," Nat muttered, sharing a look with Tony. "Was her DNA or facial recognition anywhere at the UN? Anywhere near where the bomb was set off?"

"What's that matter - "

"Since they met, they've not parted ways," Nat spelled out. "He won't go anywhere without her - you, yourself, are keeping them together for interrogation - "

"It's just easier," Ross scoffed.

"No, you know..." She blinked in confusion, "You know, Bucky won't talk unless she's there - you know he'll be ten times as difficult if she's not in the room."

"So?"

"So, in the past two years, have you heard about him without her? Have you seen her without him?"

"Nobody's seen or heard from either of them," Ross shook his head.

"Exactly," she nodded, lungs tightening with nerves. "If you can't find evidence of her being in Vienna... Bucky might not be your guy... Besides, they're both trained to avoid cameras - "

"Mistakes are made," Ross waved off.

"Not by two highly trained assassins like them," she snapped. "Check the files, go back - look! Actually look, run her scans through facial recognition - if you don't find her, it wasn't Bucky."

"You're so sure?" Tony asked skeptically.

"I know her," Natasha nodded, "better than anyone. She's as good as my sister, she's as good as blood. I know her. I know she wouldn't run this risk - "

"Then you also know she wouldn't get caught," Ross laughed.

"Neither would Bucky."

The silence stretched, but Ross was stubborn; sneering at the Avengers and taking his leave with his own plan of action in mind. He left Tony and Natasha to deal with Sam and Steve as he went to observe the interrogation. When he got before the monitors, he watched as it took four different men to restrain you enough to hoist your locks up the wall until they were clicked in place by ultra-strength magnets.

You jostled, feeling the full extent of your containment, grunting when the pipe you were connected to shocked your entire system into submission. Everett Ross smirked at your pain; watching your tongue swipe over your teeth, arms high above your head, readjusting your weight in your feet, but otherwise, not moving.

Ross heard Bucky ask quietly, his eyes watching you carefully from inside the reinforced cell, "You okay, doll?"

"Looks like they learned from last time," you grit, the cuffs around your wrists electrified; charring your skin, making you grimace slightly in a veiled attempt to hide your pain from your lover.

"Don't fight, you'll make it worse," he advised softly, frowning, eyes glassy from restrained emotion.

"They could've at least put me in a bit more comfortable position," you sneered, glaring up at one of the cameras, shaking your head as if in disappointment.

"I don't think they want to play nice, sweetheart."

"Yeah, could've guessed that from when they arrested us," you shook your head, puckering your lips to gather the blood in your mouth; spitting it to the floor. "You good, baby?" You asked as the men who restrained you moved to plug in the power cell caging Bucky.

He nodded silently at you, bowing his head and letting his long locks curtain his face. You frowned, shifting again as you blindly felt your cuffs and designed a way to get free; watching the men stoically as they exited the room to make way for the psychologist. Your jaw clenched, the air smelling foul - alerting you that something wasn't quite right.

"Hello, Mr. Barnes," the accented man greeted casually, standing at a single table in front of Bucky, you off to the side; chains rattling as your defenses flared. The psychologist smirked and greeted you, too, assuring your real identity was known - something that Natasha released to the world about two years ago when HYDRA sent Bucky after Cap in DC. You didn't fault her, in fact, you respected her move, and after getting out of the blown-to-shit base, you had run into the Winter Soldier... Beginning your epic love story, both of you on the run from authorities and higher powers.

You smuggled Bucky out of the country, using fake aliases that had yet to see the light of day and therefor, wasn't released in the files Nat published during her takedown of the compromised S.H.I.E.L.D. agency. He was appreciative, pondering how he was meant to go forward in a world he didn't know; so, you agreed to stick around for a bit to help settle him, and that bit turned into a couple of years - the two of you inseparable.

There was an incident in London that almost exposed you, but instead, it just shined a light on your new partnership. Captain American, Nat, Sam, shit - even Tony Stark himself was unable to catch up; your trail going cold, Nat knowing your Widow training was running the show and keeping you safe. Granted, she probably could've unraveled the web you had weaved - but the truth was, she didn't want to. So, she kept quiet. Leading you all here...

"I've been sent by the United Nations to evaluate you both," the man you'd come to know as Helmut Zemo continued; playing his part very well, but not well enough to convince you of his innocence. Something about the man rubbed you the wrong way. "Do you mind if I sit?" He asked politely, feigning like you two had a choice. When he did, Zemo continued, "Your first name is James?"

He noted the way Bucky and you shared a look, both remaining silent. Zemo tried to assure, "I'm not here to judge you - either of you. I just want to ask you a few questions. Do you know where you are, James?" Continued silence, your head subtly shaking - an act only Bucky clocked. "I can't help you if you don't talk to me, James."

"My name is Bucky," he croaked, your sigh echoing around the room.

"Hm," Zemo nodded, "I take it, she doesn't want you to talk?"

"She wants me safe," Bucky answered stiffly.

"That is admirable," the psychologist offered kindly, "a great display of love, is it not?"

"Jesus Christ," you shook your head, offering a glare, "you went through all that schooling to ask stupid fucking questions? Might wanna get your money back."

Zemo chuckled after humming, "I am merely trying to establish the connection you two share. I hear it is rare to find one without the other, that you two have become, uh, joined at the hip?"

"I protect her," Bucky offered, sharing a long look with you, "and she protects me."

"An equal partnership, would you say?"

"Yes."

"Buck," you warned, wrists twisting to hold the cuffs; being zapped, making your jaw clench and the veins in your neck to bulge.

"It's all right," his voice sounded like it was being put through a grater. "We're caught, doll, it's all right."

You huffed, eyeing Zemo as his eyes flickered between you two. He nodded, making a note in his little book, "I was warned that you would be unwilling to cooperate without her present. Why is that?"

"She keeps me safe."

Zemo hummed, "So you've said, and yet... Here you both are..." You were ready to lash out, but the doctor changed course, "Tell me, Bucky. You've seen a great deal, haven't you?"

"I don't wanna talk about it." Your restraints zapped you again when you jolted forward as if to physically silence Zemo, Bucky's head snapping over and his eyes drooping in sympathy. "Told you not to move, it'll only get worse," he told you softly.

"He's asking questions that will get him killed," you snarled, gritting your teeth as the electric currents seized most of your energy. But it was worth it, finding a little weak spot and letting your mind devise a specific plan.

"You fear," Zemo continued, "that if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop. I feel it is safe to assume, uh, your lady is privy to your past experiences? Perhaps, you two have shared a couple?"

"Just leave her out of this," Bucky pleaded.

"Don't worry," he assured you both, tapping something on his tablet before looking back at Bucky with a sick recognition. "We only have to talk about one. One mission... That I know you," he nodded at you, "were not present for."

"Kinda game you playin', Doc?" You sneered. "Think anything he says will change my opinion about him?"

"No, no, I know your relationship is too strong for that," Zemo smiled. "So, it's not so much what he will say... But what he will do..."

"The fuck does that - "

But then, the lights went out; darkening the room save for the lights individual to Bucky's holding cell. You perked up, the electric currents halting as the cuffs died with the power and gave you an opportunity to begin working on your escape. As red panic lights flickered, Bucky questioned, "What the hell is this?"

"Why don't we discuss your home?" Zemo offered. "Not Romania. Certainly not Brooklyn, no," he reached into his satchel, revealing a red notebook the world thought long lost... Buried in snow... Forgotten in time. "I mean, your real home," Zemo removed his glasses as you frantically started working.

"No, no, no, no, no, hey, hey, hey, don't - fuck!" You grit, trying harder to free yourself. "Bucky - Bucky, don't listen - ah, Goddamnit!"

The man you now understood to be a fake psychologist stood with a little flashlight, opening the red notebook, and began repeating words in Russian that would activate the decommissioned Winter Soldier. Bucky had told you all about these words, begging you to provide a shield against them should they ever be uttered again; but you had prior knowledge, the Winter Soldier someone you had been debriefed on during your time with other secret agencies.

"Longing."

"No," Bucky whispered, head tilting back in panic as he felt his stomach curl in a familiar pattern.

"Bucky - don't fucking listen, please!" You begged, still working to free yourself.

"Rusted."

"Stop," Bucky pleaded, sounding in pain.

"Don't do this!" You pleaded to Zemo. "You're fucking hurting him, please, stop!"

"Seventeen."

"Stop!" Bucky barked, his vibranium hand clenching in anger and pain; the entire arm whirring from the flex of his muscle. He began to pant, a deep growl emitting above your panicked whimpers.

"Daybreak!"

"You have no idea what you're doing!" You raged, Bucky screaming in pain as his mind was forcibly sunk back into dark recesses of his past. "Don't - Bucky, baby, listen to me - don't fucking listen to him, please, please, baby, don't do this!"

He screamed, breaking free of the iron restraints that kept him seated in the reinforced, mobile cell. "Furnace!" Zemo continued, ignoring the pain and panic you and Bucky were both thrown into.

"Fucking stop, please! You don't understand!" You begged, freeing one hand and working in vain to unlatch the other. Bucky was out of his seat, anger coursing like a palpable rain over you all - him screaming as his metal arm worked to pound into the strengthened glass surrounding him.

"Nine!"

"Bucky, please, baby, please, don't do this!" You tried a new tactic, hoping you were enough to cut through the brainwashing - but how silly to imagine. Decades of trauma was washing over Bucky again and your little words couldn't cut through the barricades of his mind.

"Benign!"

"You stupid fucking little man!"

Zemo rounded around the cell, Bucky still pounding away at the glass. "Homecoming! One!"

"DON'T!"

"Freight car!"

You whimpered in fear when Bucky punched the entire door off the hinges, freeing him at last; but the words were spoken, the damage done. He crouched on the floor, Zemo pausing to take in the sight, slowly approaching Bucky as he stood upright; the jangling of your chains louder and more frantic as you tried to free your last wrist.

"Jesus Christ," you whispered, trying to divide focus between the two tasks of freeing yourself and protecting Bucky - but being terribly unsuccessful as you watched Zemo stand in front of your dead-eyed boyfriend.

What a ridiculous, mundane label to assign someone like Bucky.

In Russian, Zemo questioned, "Soldier?"

And in Russian, the man you loved answered, "Ready to comply."

Zemo demanded in English, "Mission report. December 16, 1991."

You whimpered in fear, listening to Bucky give the report that would haunt you for years to come. Just as he finished, you managed to get out of the cuffs, but the clanging of your freed restraints caught Zemo's attention - who smirked with abundant cruelty. "Don't," you warned, backing out of the room just as officers began to flood it.

It was a brutal fight, trying to stave off Bucky once in his Winter Soldier mindset. You grunted as he engaged you, men dead at your feet - the lucky ones just knocked out. You grit your teeth, trying to defend yourself as Bucky operated mechanically; doing what you could to protect yourself, but it wasn't enough.

Blows landed, punching and kicking one another in an equal match of strength and stamina.

"Seize her," Zemo demanded, and in the next moment, Bucky had you by the neck; an effort that made you wheeze and claw at his bionic hand.

"Bucky," you begged. "Baby - baby - it's me, it's me, please, don't, it's me! Don't do this, baby, please, come back to me. Come back!" You struggled in his grip, trying to pry his hand open, "Baby, please, please, come back to me," spit drooled from your lips as he squeezed tighter. "This isn't you!" You managed to squeeze out, tears surfacing. "Not anymore, don't let them win!"

"Shut her up, Solider," Zemo commanded in Russian, your eyes widening and trying to beg Bucky again before he was sending you into a wall. He marched up to you, grabbing your hair, and surging his balled up metal fist directly into the bridge of your nose, breaking it, head jolting backwards, and effectively knocking you out.

When you came back into consciousness, it was to Steve's worried face; his hands caressing your cheeks and begging, "You all right?"

"Fucking hell," you winced, reaching up to prod the tender spot on your head; revealing blood.

"Got your ass kicked, huh?" He frowned.

"Watch your language, Cap," you smirked, wincing when your face throbbed. "Shit, how bad is it?"

He looked you over, offering, "Definitely a broken nose."

"Goddamnit - where is he? Where's Bucky?"

"Help me," a voice pleaded from the next room, Zemo playing his part by splaying out on the floor like bait.

"Don't trust him, something ain't right about him, Steve," you whispered, waving him on as you sluggishly hoisted yourself up the wall to lean against it. "Kept asking about Siberia, asking about shit nobody should actually know."

"Get yourself safe," Steve told you swiftly, nodding at Sam; who was checking on the status of the other bodies around you.

"Just find him, Steve, he's lost in his own mind - a threat to himself," you panted, slowly standing.

"I know - "

"You don't know," you shook your head, wiping a trickle of blood from your temple, "but you're gonna have to do more than understand him right now, Steve."

"I've got this," he promised, watching you nod and limp away. You had just missed the action, Bucky overpowering both Sam and Steve; getting to a safety landing and running into Natasha, Tony, and Agent Sharon Carter.

"We'll hash our bullshit out later," you panted, "but for now - "

You heard a commotion behind you, flinching out of sight when Bucky made himself known and began taking down rogue agents unlucky enough to stand before the Winter Soldier.

"He have an off switch?" Nat asked.

"Not that I've found," you frowned. "Split up."

Tony tried to engage Bucky first, using a mobile Iron Man device he wore on his wrist that used sonics to disorient Bucky. It only worked to a small extent, the two exchanging a few blows, Bucky firing a bullet at Tony's face at pointblank range that was saved by his technologically advanced glasses. Bucky got the upper hand, sending Tony flying back, letting Sharon and Nat attack.

He disposed of them both easily, stumbling when you caught him off guard and wrapped your legs around him. Normally, you'd do anything to have your legs around him - but this wasn't one of those times. You exchanged several punches, blocking one another, going for disarming hits but being of equal challenge; leaving small cuts and blooming bruises on each other as if to prove the engagement. Natasha rejoined the fight, two Widows showing Bucky up on a few instances, but he was heaving her across the room as you swung onto his shoulders in an impressive acrobatic move.

You heaved your fists down in a repeated fashion on the top of his head, Bucky charging at one of the cafe tables; slamming you down and choking you again with his metal hand. Both your hands held his, legs up around his neck to try to keep him at a distance for relief on your windpipe.

Through a strangled breath, you managed, "You could at least recognize me!"

"Who said I don't?" He growled, reaching out to snap a piece of wood from a chair.

You tried to regain normal breath, wheezing, "This isn't you, baby, you are not this person anymore - you're not a psychotic, robot killer! You're a man - please!"

"You don't know a damn thing about me," he seethed.

"I know everything about you," you strangled, "and I know this isn't you. Come back to me, baby, please! Y-You can't let the demons win, Buck, please - fucking listen to me!" But he only raised the wooden shaft above his head. "BUCKY, DON'T!"

"Who the hell is Bucky?"

You cried out shrilly when he jabbed the sharp wood into your shoulder, staking you to the table just as King T'Challa rushed onto the scene and stole your brainwashed boyfriend's attention. You hissed in pain, trying to yank the wood free but being unsuccessful; resulting in blood to splatter onto the tiled floor.

Hearing someone pant your name, you caught a glimpse of red and knew it was Nat, her face worried over yours a moment later. "Where's Bucky?" You coughed and winced in pain.

"Goin' up by the looks of it," she informed, "now hang on, this is gonna hurt. Want a belt to bite?"

"No, just do it, get it done, please," you panted, bracing yourself, and suddenly, without warning, your companion heaved the piercing shaft free from your flesh. Naturally, you cried out, groaning and clenching your jaw so tight, it nearly crushed your teeth into dust.

"Hey, you seen..." Sam arrived on scene, taking in your injury, "Holy shit, you good?"

"Yeah," you grunted, stumbling to your feet as blood bloomed into a bigger, brighter blemish on your tactical shirt. "We gotta go, Sam, we should get outta here."

"Hang on," Nat paused you two, your opposite hand holding your wound; her hands occupied by a smart device, "looks like Bucky tried to highjack a helicopter. Steve stopped him, but it resulted in them all crashing in the river."

"Shit," Sam breathed. "We gotta go find them."

"We need to get outta here, you know, away from the cops and agents," your head shook. "Get somewhere safe, away from this catastrophe. We'll regroup with Steve."

"Go," Nat permitted, "I won't say a word."

"You're one of a kind, Nat," you praised, pecking her cheek. "Let's go, Sam. And grab that First Aid kit," you pointed to the wall where the white box was mounted. He agreed and you lead the way out of the facility.

Bucky groaned as he woke up, head lulling back before realizing he couldn't move his metal arm; finding it clamped in industrial weights. Sam called you both to attention, but while Steve jogged over, you remained in your place out of sheer distress.

You only vaguely listened to the conversation, hands trembling as your shoulder was bandaged to prevent further injury or infection. You did what you could to patch up any injury, and when you heard your name, you dialed in; Bucky asking, "Where is she? Is she okay?"

"You don't remember?" Sam sneered.

"No..."

"You stabbed her," the Falcon growled.

"What? N-No, I-I-I couldn't've - I wouldn't!"

"You did," Steve confirmed, pity coloring his words. "Punched her out pretty well, choked her, too. Broke her nose..."

"Please - Steve, please, tell me I didn't."

"I'm sorry, Buck."

"That why she's not here? She's in a hospital?"

"Actually, no," Sam trailed, "she's just in the other room."

"She didn't want to come here?"

Steve sighed as Sam informed, "Don't think she wants to see you right now, man."

"I didn't mean to hurt her."

"We know," Steve swiftly promised, nodding his head. "She knows it, too, you just have to give her some time."

Bucky looked utterly defeated, murmuring, "I scared her. Oh, my God, I scared her..."

"Gotta agree with you there."

"Sam," Steve reprimanded. "Look, Buck, she'll come around."

You waited until the two men left Bucky alone to regroup and stratify a new course of action. Slowly and almost sheepishly, you entered where Bucky was being kept, steps silent but he heard you anyways. His blue eyes flashed in concern as he met your gaze, mouth opening and closing as if words failed him.

"Doll," he finally breathed, "a-are you all right?"

"I'm okay."

"Don't bullshit me, how hard did I hit you? Steve said I broke your nose, I-I'm so sorry, doll, please believe me. What'd I do to your shoulder? Is that where I stabbed you?"

"Buck," you sighed, slowly squatting in front of him, "I need you to take a breath and know that I understand you were not in your right state of mind. You were forcibly triggered and sent back into that way of thinking, I know it wasn't you."

"I still hurt you, I still did it."

"Did you, though?" Your head cocked, eyes narrowing slightly, "Because I know my Bucky wouldn't hurt me, would never dare lay a hand on me - but the Winter Solider is a different story. You didn't do this, Buck, you weren't you."

"I can smell the fear on you."

"Well, yeah, it fuckin' scared me. I tried to stop that fake doctor, I tried to help, tried to save you and keep your safe. I'm sorry I was too slow, that I failed."

"You didn't fail anything, sweetheart... I-I failed you, I broke my promise to never hurt you."

"No, you didn't. The Winter Solider did all that, not my Bucky."

He frowned, repeating to ask softly, "Your Bucky?"

"My Bucky - the kind, charismatic, impossibly stubborn, kind hearted man I've loved the past couple of years who always gives me the crispiest fries, who has nightmares, who loves me unconditionally despite what I, too, have done in my past. And you know what I was doing out there while Sam and Steve talked to you?"

"What's that, doll?"

"Understanding that loving someone means loving their flaws, accepting them exactly as they are. So, while, yes, the Winter Solider scares the fuck outta me, he's still part of you and I can't authentically love you if I reject the Soldier."

His head shook "Your kindness is wasted on me."

"I think you should let me decide what's a waste and what's not when it comes to my own energy and emotion."

"I'm just gonna end up hurting you again. You're better off without me, baby, you and I both know you're better off keeping your distance. You should get out now while you still can."

"Not gonna happen. 'Cause you know what else I realized?" You reached up to caress his cheek, "I trust you beyond reasonable doubt, I trust you even if I'm afraid of the Winter Solider. I should've been faster, I should've helped you more, but I was powerless against that red notebook."

"You and I, both..."

You pet the cheek you were holding. "Buck, I know it was scary, I know how it must've felt being forced back into that mindset, but I want you to know that I'm in this for the long haul - you're not gonna scare me off. Because I love you, Bucky, and every single part of you - whether choking me out or not. Whether I earn a broken nose or not."

"I'm so sorry. I-I can't believe I did that, I'm so sorry, I hate that I hurt you. I'm so sorry, baby, I can't - I can't even put it in words how much I regret putting you in that position."

You smirked, "See? The Winter Soldier has no remorse, but my Bucky does." You gingerly reached out to curl his hair behind his ear. "My Bucky apologizes and takes accountability. There's no reason to not love that man - especially when he deserves it so much. Hey? Hear me? You deserve to be loved, too, Buck."

"And you deserve a man who doesn't run the risk of being turned into a psycho killing machine over a few measly words."

"I deserve to love my best friend, so let me do that. Say whatever you want, try to push me away - but I'm like a boomerang, baby, I'll just come right back."

"What kinda man puts his best girl in that kinda position? Who hurts the most important person in his life?"

"A man who endured decades of abuse," you laid your hands on either of his thighs, "a man who wasn't allowed control of his own mind. I can't - no, no, I won't fault you for that, Buck. Today wasn't your fault and I'll remind you of that as often as it takes. Don't you dare feel guilty because you didn't do this to me, okay? You didn't put me in any position - that fake fucking doctor did this, Agent Ross did this, special ops put us here. You, my sweet boy, didn't do anything to be at fault. You were trapped, but look at you now - freed, level headed, talking to me."

His eyes gleamed with a sheen of emotion, staring at the bloodied bandage wrapping your shoulder wound before his eyes danced over the bruising and other aftermath of your injuries. "I could've killed you," he muttered, tears filling his eyes.

"But you didn't - and surprisingly, neither did the Winter Soldier. Maybe there was a part of you still alive, wanting to refuse orders and not actually hurt me."

"Perhaps," he frowned. "I'm still so sorry, doll, I hate that I did this to you. It never should've happened."

Your head nodded, "I know, baby, and listen - I forgive you. Yeah? Hear me? I forgive you, this is in the past."

"Are you sure about me? You sure you wanna do this? Knowing I could flip a switch and hurt you - maybe even worse than today?"

"I'm sure about you, Buck," you agreed. "I don't wanna be without you, so, sign me up for whatever's to come."

"You might regret that."

"The only thing I could ever regret is abandoning you. I don't want to do this without you - I love our life together. In any world, in any lifetime, I'd still choose you. There's nothing that would make me regret you - regret being with you."

"You sure? I don't want to make you do anything out of your comfort."

"I love you, Bucky, yes, I'm sure. No matter what damage you think you might've caused, whatever damage has been done, I promise, that's not the truth. There's nothing about you that I could regret."

"Well, all that's left now is to get to Siberia, stop the other Winter Soldiers."

"And figure out a way to free your mind once and for all... It's what you deserve," you told him softly, rocking to your knees to meet his forehead with yours and caressing his cheek again. When you heard approaching footsteps, you sighed and pulled away from him to stand and turn, spying Sam and Steve. "C'mon, Cap, get him outta this. He's not gonna attack anyone," you requested, gesturing where your boyfriend was trapped.

"You sure?" Sam asked stiffly. "He did a real number on you alone. Not to mention all the other agents and cops he took out back there."

"He's good," you snapped, perking your brows at Steve, "and you two would do well not to throw what happened in his face, it wasn't his fault. So c'mon, free him, he's not a wild animal."

Steve agreed and lifted the machinery from Bucky's prosthetic, him instantly snatching it back and massaging where the joint met metal. Bucky stood with a set stare at Sam and Steve, as if anticipating them to lunge at him. His throat constricted, swelled with emotion when you stepped in front of him - posing barrier between the two Avengers and himself.

"You still got that phone on you?" Steve asked you softly.

"I do."

"Is it still unregistered?"

"You know it is. Who're we calling?"

"Reinforcements. We're gonna need help now that the Avengers will be looking for us. We gotta get to Siberia."

"Here," you agreed, unlocking the device and handing it over. "Who's first on your list?"

"Any Avenger who didn't sign the Sokovia Accords."

When he walked away with Sam again, you turned to face your lover directly; staring into swirling storms of baby blues. "You still with me?" You asked softly, reaching up to caress his hair again to push it behind his ear.

"Always. Got my six?"

"You know I do, baby," you smirked, stepping into his chest and wrapping your arms around his waist. "We'll figure this out, together."

"Together," he agreed, sighing deeply and returning your embrace tightly. His flesh hand rose to hold the back of your head, bringing his lips down to lay a chaste kiss on the top of your head. His voice rattled quietly, "Thank you..."

"Hmm? For what, handsome?"

"Believing in me. It's nice to think we can end this torment."

You smiled up at him, "You deserve freedom, Bucky, and to live without this haunting fear."

"I don't know about 'deserving' it, sweetheart. Done a lot of things that would argue against that."

"Maybe against the Winter Soldier, but Bucky deserves the world. Deserves kindness, accommodation, love and understanding. Now," you smirked and sniffled, giving his waist another squeeze before releasing and pulling back, "get your head outta this pit and focus, we've got a long day ahead of us."

He agreed, letting you take his hand and lace fleshy fingers together in a tether. Sam's face remained stoic and passive, but when Steve saw you two, he couldn't help but smile. Two years he hunted for Bucky and just today, he's learned his best friend's been shacked up with you - a warmth blooming in his chest over the idea of you two finding one another and loving each other.

requesting rules and masterlist

Marvel masterlist

539 notes · View notes

ponderingmoonlight · 1 year ago

Text

How JJK men react to different insecurities part 3

Pairings: Nanami x overweight fem! reader (requested by @deegausserr) Choso x fem!reader with big breasts (requested by anon)

Yuji/Todo x tall/curvy fem!reader (requested by @sitarawrites, @hitori979, @sophyr05 and anon, I see y'all my tall queens)

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: not 100% proofread, as usual don't read if you feel triggered by those topics, listen I literally have no boobs so I'm beyond sorry if Choso's part is shit, overweight and big breast parts contain insults (please note that this is definetely not the way I feel about it!) but also so much comfort from your favorite characters, you are beautiful just the way you are 🤍

Part 1: Nanami x reader with facial scars; Megumi x reader with small breasts; Sukuna x reader with acne (click here to read)

Part 2: Nanami x reader who doesn't want kids; Gojo x reader who gained weight; Megumi x reader with hooked nose (click here to read)

Nanami with an overweight reader

(Imaging him grabbing those ass bully girls like this okay)

You cover yourself up the minute he enters the room. He, the man who caught your eye since the beginning. He, who looks so effortlessly good in that suit. He, a well-trained man with a body like the statues in ancient Greek.

“Hey, the same as usual?”

“Thank you, (y/n).”

Just him, Kento Nanami. And you? Well, you have nothing in common with all those things. To be exact, you aren’t even sure if he ever noticed you. Why would he? You are nothing but a worker in a coffee shop, average-looking and…

You swallow. You are overweight. Not that it would bother you this much. After all, you work hard for your money each and every day, you do your best to keep your head above the water. You never really felt the urge to lose weight until reality, or rather other people, hit you.

“Oh, look who’s working again!”

“Did you already eat all those muffins? How is it possible that when you’re working, all the food is gone around this time?”

There they are again. Breathe in, breathe out. Everything is alright. Just suffering a few minutes, just letting their words hit you a little longer and they’ll be gone again. You just have to get through this. It’s not like you haven’t heard those group of actual grown-ups say those nasty things to you over a hundred times already.

But no. Today, it isn’t that easy. Because on the table in front of you sits none other than Kento Nanami who reads his paper and sips on his cup of coffee like he always does. Why do you suddenly feel the urge to defend yourself, to make them stop talking to you like that?

“Can you guys just leave me alone? I’m doing my job here, okay? Would you like to drink or eat something-“

“Fat pig”, one of the blonde girls suddenly spits at you.

This is nothing new. You should be used to it by know, all the countless insults especially that group of four girls always spits at you are too much to even count. Then why…Why do your eyes roam to his perfectly trimmed blonde undercut, why do you ball your fist in an instant?

What a dumb mistake. One of the girls follows the direction of your sight, breaking out in hysterical laughing when realizing that you were looking at Kento Nanami. No, please don’t make a stupid comment, please just grab a coffee and leave this place. Even though it hurts to get reminded of the stinging fact that you are overweight almost every single day, what hurts even most is…

“I can’t believe you! Why would a fatass like you even look in his direction? Can’t you see that he’s out of your league? God, you are so pathetic it makes my wanna cry. I mean, don’t you have a mirror at home, can’t you see that you are nothing but a fat fuck? Nobody will ever want you, (y/n). Especially not a handsome man like him.”

It’s hard for Nanami to contain his temper, hand already trembling threatful. Who do these girls think they are to talk to you in such a nasty way? You are breathtakingly stunning with eyes that radiate nothing but kindness, you work so hard each and every day. You…

You don’t deserve this.

“Leave me alone”, you mumble again.

And for the first time in forever, your throat starts to burn as well as your eyes. At this point you were so used to getting picked on that you didn’t even cry about it anymore after some time. But this…this isn’t about your weight anymore. This hits you right where it hurts.

Kento Nanami.

You don’t even dare to look his direction, eyes pierced to the ground while their venomous laughs fill the room with hatred. The urge to just get out of here, to leave this place and never return becomes almost unbearable. Maybe…maybe you should really lose some weight. Your eyes dart towards the counter in whose glass your figure is reflected.

You feel absolutely horrible and disgusting. A silent sob escapes your lips. Yes, why would someone like Kento Nanami ever want someone like you?

“Awww look at her, now she’s crying!”

You can’t take the shame anymore. Without thinking twice, you storm out of the coffee shop, ignoring your co-worker calling out your name behind. It began to rain in waterfalls, your tears now mixing with the drops from above.

There was probably never a moment in your life where you hated yourself as much as now. What where you even thinking, getting all excited every morning because of that force of a man? Were you really too dumb to realize that Kento Nanami would never fall for a girl like you?

A fat pig, a person so undisciplined that it shows, a girl that could never wear his t-shirts as a dress. You are a nobody, an ugly figure in a world full of skinny models-

“(y/n)!”

That voice makes your guts turn in an instinct, heart pounding against your chest. You pick up your pace immediately, almost running down the rainy streets of Tokyo into an alley. Of course, he followed you. After all, Kento Nanami is a gentleman out of romance books, the perfect man. But you’d rather die that let him comfort you. No, you don’t want to hear that he’s sorry about their cruel words, you don’t want him to look down at you with his pity-filled eyes.

You simply can’t take it.

“Hey, (y/n). Please look at me.”

With a swift motion, he grabs your wrist and turns you around. You feel like dying right here and now, his chocolate brown eyes seem to pierce right through your soul.

But then…

He pushes you against the wall and just kisses you. His lips collapse onto yours with so much passion that it simply takes your breath away, his eyes roaming around your body hungrily. You stare at him in sheer disbelief. Is this really happening? Are you dreaming? Countless lonely night, you imagined what it would feel like to have him this close, to feel his body against yours. And now…And now that gorgeous man pinned you against a wall.

“Don’t you dare to believe a single word they said. I promise you that they’ll never speak to you like this again. I made sure of that.”

It feels so surreal, almost too good to be true. Is he only doing this out of pity, because he doesn’t want you to feel bad? Your heart sinks painfully. Is that what this is about?

“You don’t have to do that so I’m feeling better”, you mumble against his lips.

Instinctively, you cross your arms in front of your chest, hiding you like you always do around him.

“I’m not saying this to make you feel better”, he replies in an instant, hands gently untucking your arms to place his own around your waist.

“I’m saying this because I can’t take my eyes off you since I saw you the first time I stepped into this café. You have to be the most beautiful person I have ever seen, (y/n). I adore your delicate curves, your inviting smile, your unshakable character. I love the way your hair falls and how you prepare my coffee. I adore you just the way you are. Did you really think I’m there because of the coffee? It’s not that good if you’re asking me.”

His comment makes you giggle your tears away and shaking your head at the same time.

“Yeah, the coffee isn’t that great to be honest”, you comment.

“But you are.”

He looks down at you all serious again, his intense gaze making your knees go weak in an instant.

“And I want nothing more than to take you out to a nice restaurant.”

Choso with a reader who has big breasts

You were never keen to meet new people, especially men. Not because you aren’t talkative or enjoy others company. No, it’s because you never know how they’ll react when seeing you for the first time.

Even though especially other women are jealous of you because of how big your breasts are, you truly hate them. It seems like the second you meet someone, all they have eyes for is your cleavage. No matter if you wear a baggy shirt, your uniform or one of the dresses you normally adore so much, your boobs come first. And you fucking hate it.

“Hey, why are you so nervous, (y/n)? I’m sure you and Choso will get along just fine!”, Yuji tries to cheer you up with a kind smile.

“And probably your-“

“Shut up right now, moron”, Megumi mumbles instinctively.

You sign to yourself. It’s clear that he’s just trying to be nice and funny, but to be honest you want to cry. Since puberty hit you, no one ever saw you like an individual anymore. No, you are either sexualized or body-shamed.

“Would you crush me with your melons for some money? C’mon (y/n).”

“There she is again. Look at her tits!”

“She’s just showing off. What a slut.”

“I bet those would be a good ass pillow.”

You are so damn tired of it. Tired of all the people talking about you behind your back, tired of being nothing but a sex object, tired of having no character. Even though here at Jujutsu High, people seem to finally get that you are indeed a human being all by yourself and would never talk badly about you, you can feel their looks.

“Oh, there he is! Come on, (y/n)!”

No, no, no. Is it too late to just turn around and leave this place? Maybe Maki is still free, you should go and grab a drink with her. Or even better, barricade yourself into your dorm and return when this man is gone.

“You must be (y/n). My little brother told me a lot about you”, a dark voice introduces itself.

Your eyes dart up in panic. Oh, you just know how this goes. First of all, he’ll look down at your breasts. If he’s having at least a spark of decency, his eyes will dart back to your face and roam around when he thinks you’re not paying any attention. And maybe, just maybe, he won’t mention your cleavage for quite some time.

“Nice to meet you”, you mumble annoyed already.

Huh, his eyes rest right on your face, a small smile forming itself on his lips. You tilt your head to the side, squint your eyes in confusion. Well, this is definitely new. He didn’t even look at them, not a single glimpse onto your body.

“Is it true that you have a thing for blood manipulation? Yuji told me you are interested in learning more about that technique.”

“Well, yeah…”

You have to blink a few times. He is so…different from everyone else. Not even Megumi resisted the urge to look down at you, you even heard him talking about it with Yuji someday. But this man…what was his name again? Choso? He seems to be curious about…

You. Nothing but you.

“I am quite skilled when it comes to blood manipulation. If you want, I will gladly show you a few things.”

“Y-yeah…I mean…That would be nice. Like, today?”, you stutter awkwardly, completely caught off guard by this unexpected change of scenery.

“If you have time, of course.”

“Okay, then…I’ll change now.”

“I’ll meet you at the training field.”

“Yeah…”, you mutter.

As soon as you leave the room, Yuji seems to finally regain your voice.

“And? What do you think about her?”

“I think she seems quite nice for a human being.”

“And what else?”

A big pause that makes your heart shatter for a brief moment. Maybe he isn’t as different as you thought. Maybe he’s just thinking about your cleavage like everybody else does, maybe-

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Haven’t you seen her,…y’know…Megumi?”

“He means her breasts”, Megumi clarifies.

“Why would I look at her breasts when she seems to have an interesting character?”

Your heart almost beats out of your chest, ears literally unable to comprehend what you’ve just heard. It really shouldn’t touch you like that. But oh, the second you begin to realize what that stranger just said your eyes get glossy. It might only be a little statement for him, but it surely means the world to you.

In a world that shames on you for something you can’t change, in a world in which men only took you on dates or talked to you because of your breasts and not because of your personality.

Choso seems to be the first person who genuinely doesn’t give a fuck about the way you look. And oh does it feel nice.

“Maybe you’re not as bad as I thought”, you mumble to yourself.

Yuji and Todo with a cury/tall girl

Just one look at him seems to sweep you off your feet. The way he walks, the way he talks, simply the way he carries himself. It wasn’t hard to fall for Yuji, but it was definitely rough to find out he isn’t interested in you.

“What kind of woman is Yuji actually into?”

Nobara looked at you up and down, visibly bamboozled about what you’ve just asked. There aren’t many things she doesn’t think about, but Yuji Itadori’s type is definitely one of them.

“I don’t know girl…But I guess he’s the type for rather short girls, don’t ya think?”

You hated the way your heart instantly began to ache in your ribcage. Of course he does. Aren’t all boys nowadays into petite girls with a bubbly personality? And to be honest, you are none of that.

Taller than all the other girls and even some boys around Jujutsu High, curvier than anyone else, probably uglier than the rest. You never put much thought into all of these things, but right. Why would Yuji be any different from all the guys you’ve met before?

“Who the hell is this woman, Itadori?”

Todo can’t help but shamelessly stare at you. This is too good to be true, a sight straight out of his dreams. You…You are even better than Takada-chan.

“Huh? Oh, that’s (y/n)”, he replies with a small grin, just one look at you making his heart stumble all over again.

He hasn’t seen you in quite some time now that he thinks of it.

“What kind of woman is your type, Itadori Yuji?”

The pink-haired boy has to blink a few times, eyes still set on your delicious curves and gorgeous long legs.

“I like tall woman with a big ass.”

“Is that your final answer?”, he huge boy next to him urges, grabbing him by his uniform so roughly that his eyes yank away from you.

“Yes!”, he replies immediately.

“Then get going, we need to talk to this beauty over there”, he announces, dragging Yuji behind him before he is even able to reply.

You tilt your head to the side. What the hell is going on over there? Who is that shirtless guy and…is that Yuji he drags behind him as if he’s taking out trash?

“You!”, he shouts into your direction, eyes seem to pierce right through your soul.

What the hell is this about? Should you run away, cry for help? He definitely looks pretty dangerous to you with the way his muscles seem to grow with every step he takes towards you.

“Hey, let me go! I can walk by myself!”, Yuji protests.

“Now talk to her”, Todo hisses, almost pushing him into you.

“Oh, hi (y/n)!”

“Well, hi Yuji…”, you answer rather confused.

You look even better from over here, your body lingering over his own by a few centimetres. Yes, you have to be the biggest woman Yuji has ever seen with a character so badass that no one can hold a candle to you. And those curves, those oh so delicious curves…

“Tell her what kind of woman is your type”, the guy next to him demands harshly.

“Stop being so damn loud, she hears you!”

“Oh, I definitely do. What is all of this bullshit about and what kind of freak are you exactly?”

“Itadori loves tall woman with a big ass.”

Well, that’s rather unexpected. Yuji turns as red as a tomato, not daring to shoot a single glimpse your way. But Nobara said that he likes petite girls and somehow, this always made sense to you. Still, his body doesn’t lie. And the fact that he doesn’t say anything against it tells you…

“You like tall woman with a big ass”, you repeat.

“Well, to be honest, I just like you, (y/n)”, he mutters along with scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

“I like you too. You have to be the hottest girl I’ve ever seen. Let me cherish you for the rest of our lives”, the guy named Todo purrs.

“Hey, I thought you were my wingman and now you’re trying to steal my girl away from me!”, Yuji protests.

“When did I ever say that, moron? We might be brothers, but this right here is my girl-“

“WE ARE NOT BROTHERS AND (Y/N) IS NOT YOUR GIRL!”

“I’ve been crazy about you for so long. I can’t believe you actually find me attractive, Yuji”, you interrupt their little chitchat.

Your heart feels light as a feather, so good that you are almost think about giggling out in sheer joy.

“Are you kidding? You are what dreams are made of, (y/n)! I was just too shy to admit…”

“I’d never be too shy to show my love. Pick me, (y/n)!”

“GET AWAY FROM HERE!”

“I’M NOT LEAVING MY GIRL BEHIND!”

"That's enough, I'm leaving. See you around guys", you announce with a sly grin.

"OUCH, DID YOU JUST SLAP ME TODO!?"

"JUST THE WAY YOU DESERVE IT, ITADORI!"

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain @risuola @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz

753 notes · View notes

eetherealgoddess · 8 months ago

Note

Can you make a fem reader whose is a martial artist with a yan bonten but she doesn’t let them get her easily

ik it's been a while y'all but don't worry bc i will be getting through your requests!!

idk much about martial arts so I’m just gonna do my best with the fighting scene. hope you enjoy!

also, why am i more inclined to write when i’m high 😩

ꨄFight For Your Lifeꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Bonten Au

❦You’ve been on the run from your childhood friends❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR & AO3 UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Fight For Your Life

The platforms of your shoes slap against the wet concrete, puddles of water splashing as you ignore the rain falling on your skin. Your bloody clothes hugging against your body uncomfortably as the street lights glow amongst the dark sky, the empty buildings sitting under as you run past with squinted eyes. Your lips are apart as you take in quick breaths, though you tried to keep the panting steady. The adrenaline running through your veins made it easier to ignore the goosebumps caused by the cold air hitting your dermis and the red liquid running down your nose.

You didn’t know how long it had been since you ran from your totaled car. It was amazing how you slipped away, not expecting the driver of the car to have died on impact. You knew exactly who sent the sheep, snarling as you remember the men you couldn’t seem to escape for long. Although you made it far enough to stay in a motel a great distance away from Japan, you still had a long way to go.

I’m so tired of this shit.

It’s frustrating having to travel from place to place, continuously spending a limited amount of money just to be free from the grasp of the yakuza. If you would’ve known that you would be abducted as an adult by your childhood friends who disappeared without any warning, you wouldn’t have become close to them in the first place. To have been so devoted to them and the rest of the gang, only for them to abandon you and reappear without warning, snatching you up and treating you as property rather than a person, murdering most of your loved ones without a care of how that could affect you. Not only is the situation painful but demeaning. How could they treat you like that? No explanation for the disappearance nor the behavior, not that you needed it. Who they are now explains everything you need to know.

Ignoring the tightness of your chest became harder as you slowed your pace, halting your movements before bending over, hands on your knees. You gripped the fabric of your pants as your eyes closed, head dropping as you struggled to steady your breathing. Your tears of frustration mix with the droplets of rain, finally lifting your body and rubbing your sleeve against your eyes, only for the moisture to return.

Your eyes widen as bright lights flash behind you before you swiftly turn your body to face the car speeding toward you. The loud engine roars as the vehicle darts down the hill through the fog. You search around your surroundings for a good hiding spot amongst the empty stores. You huff before running behind a structure closest to you. You find a dumpster, cursing as you open it and climb in, ignoring your discomfort for bacteria as you cover your nose and close yourself into the darkness, praying to not feel anything crawling on you as you rub your face with both hands, smearing the blood from your nose.

You breathe in through your nose and release from your mouth, ignoring the overwhelming stench as you listen for anyone close. The pouring rain made it difficult to hear any footsteps if someone were to walk near. You closed your eyes as you pant into your cupped hands quietly. You patiently stay in your spot for what feels like a while, planning to hide in the dumpster all night long if you have to. The phone you bought when you ran from Bonten was lost in the wreck, hidden behind the broken machinery and shattered glass so you had no way to contact anyone to help, not that you knew anyone. You also didn’t know if the police would help you anyway considering Bonten has some of them wrapped around their fingers.

The top of the dumpster is snatched open, rain pouring as the sound of your screaming covers the droplets landing on the full sacks of trash. You struggle against the hold on your wrist as you’re yanked out of the hiding place, feet meeting the ground.

“The more you struggle the harder this will be for you!” The man growled, attempting to hold you in place. When he pulls you toward him with his grip tightening, you straighten your posture before pulling your head back and slamming it against his forehead causing him to release you as he grabs his head in pain. Running on nothing but adrenaline, you dash away from the man as you ignore the throbbing ache of your head, only to run in the direction of two more men speeding towards you.

“Shit!” You hiss before turning back around.

“Get her idiot or it’ll be our asses!” One of the men exclaimed on his way toward you as he faced the original male whose face is still scrunched in pain.

Just as you were about to pass the man who attacked you, he reached for you in which you dodged before continuing to make your escape. Before you could succeed, you are snatched by the collar of your top and yanked back. You gasp as you feel the sting from the sudden pressure on your neck, though your shock doesn’t last long.

“Gotcha you bit-!” He grunts and bends over, releasing you in the process when you elbow his stomach with as much strength as you could muster, so much so you release your own throated shriek. Before you could run the next man comes forth, pulling his arm back before landing a punch on your cheek. Your face hangs to the side in reflex as your palm immediately meets your cheek, eyes wide as you wince in pain.

Before he could make another move, you use your fist to back hand the man’s face before landing a punch on his cheek with the same arm, his body wobbling back as he tries to keep balance. You shove him just as the third male comes to ambush you from the side, both of you landing painfully on the ground with you at the bottom. The puddle of water mixed with dirt and grime splashes as you thrash in his hold as he grasps your wrists and forces them next to your head, squeezing as you howl in agony.

Seeing an opening all the while your face is scrunched with fresh blood oozing down your cheek, you take the opportunity to knee the man’s midsection. His eyes widen as his grip loosens, mouth hanging open with a silent scream. You make eye contact before shoving him off of you. Before you can pick yourself up, the original man places the platform of his shoe on your stomach before pressing down hard. Your nails claw at his covered ankles as he glares down at you with a smirk.

“Oh? What is this?” You watch as the color drains from the man’s face. Your own eyes widen at the realization that you had just been caught.

Your head slowly turns to the side, your own eyes meeting two pairs of purple orbs. A certain mullet haired man tsked as he stood in place, flicking the cigarette butt from his fingers before lifting the black gun held by his other hand. A blaring shot echoed in the air, your eyelids met just in time before the red liquid could splatter in your eyes.

As a result, a weight was lifted off of your stomach as you opened your eyes, watching as the other two men had an expression of bewilderment, freezing in their spots as they watched the bloody corpse drop to the ground, pieces of the brain and skull lying all around the wet ground. You stare at the situation with wide eyes as you slowly sit up, leaning on your trembling arms as you watch both males take a step back with their hands in surrender.

“Come on boys, don’t cower on us now.” The tall man says, running his fingers through his short streaked hair, a sly smile on his face as his other hand holds the black umbrella both him and his brother stood under.

“Pathetic.” Rin states before he turns on his heel, slowly walking away from the scene, Ran follows alongside. They don’t give you another glance.

Escaping your trance, you went to jump up, only for your arms to be grabbed by the two men. You thrash as your feet lifts from the ground, your biceps slightly sliding against their wet hands as the rain continues pouring. You didn’t stop your struggle even when nearing the familiar black suv that caused your heart beat to accelerate. Sweat mixed with the droplets sliding against your forehead as the pressure in your chest became more prominent the closer you got to your entrapment. You pull your arms with all your might against the growling males’ holds, attempting to use your feet to kick them, only for them to dodge and grips tighten.

“Don’t do this.” You plead, bargaining for your freedom.

“We got no choice, lady.” The guy on your left responded.

“You have to have a wife or daughter or something, guys! Please!” Your eyes burn with moisture caused by frustration, your eyebrows furrow as you glance between the men who hold you.

“Shut up!” The guy on your right hissed. “We’re doing this to keep them safe. Your well being is worth nothing to us so just accept your fate.”

Your head hangs low as you’re dragged to the car, the tinted window rolling down as a blur of white reaches your peripheral, right before the men holding you halt in front of the vehicle. You hear footsteps before a tight grip reaches your chin, forcing you to meet golden eyes that seem to glow through the rainy night. A blonde strand hanging on the left side of his face, the rest of his black locks pulled back in a messy ponytail. His empty orbs bore into you as you seem to internally cower from the strange expression.

Your discomfort increases as time goes on, the sound of the rain hitting the pavement masking the silence as you continue to hold eye contact. The corners of his lips curve upward before you can comprehend his next move. The tight grip released on your left arm before you hear a thud against the ground. Your eyes widened as you eye the injured male, turning your gaze back to the man who gives a sheepish smile, rubbing his bruised knuckles as he chuckled.

“You really know how to make a guy angry, Y/n.” He scratched the back of his neck before looking to the side as his smile dropped. “Running off like that wasn’t cool.”

You scoff before shaking your head angrily. You couldn’t believe his deflecting. They treat you like a pet. It’s degrading and abusive. The lack of respect as close as they were before is disgusting. Before you could respond, the cocking of a gun snatched your attention away from the tiger tattooed male in front of you and towards a certain pink haired man who now stood outside of the car. The barrel of his gun aimed right at your torso, your body tightening as you lose your breath.

His scars stretch as he snarls shifting his aim quickly before pulling the trigger. A loud shot rings out, echoing throughout the empty street. Your breathing slows down as the pounding of your heart is the only sound you can hear, followed by a ringing in your ears as the final grip releases you to the ground. The water pellets fall on your face as you feel pressure on your front as you stare at the sky, a warm liquid forming under your torso as your lips hang slightly apart.

You barely hear the car doors opening as your hearing goes in and out, five figures hovering over you as they observe your figure. Crouching down closest to your face, the platinum haired male who gives you an expression of emptiness uses a hand to caress the left side of your face, thumb tracing your temple. He leans over, his warm breath connecting with your ear.

“If you won’t let me have you, death will.”

As your hearing comes back and vision clears you watch as the men with solemn gazes turn and leave your vicinity. Mikey pulls back before picking himself up and following his men. You listen as you hear footsteps fade and the car doors open and close. The engine roars before they speed away, leaving you on the wet street.

You were in slight shock considering you couldn’t believe you had just been shot. You knew they were capable of it but the thought of yourself being murdered is unsettling. You stay on the ground for a moment, relieving yourself of the panic attack you just had before you slowly sit up and eye your surroundings. Seeing nobody in the area, you look down and pull your shirt up, grabbing the busted sack that once held fake blood from your cushioned vest. Staring at the sack you took a deep breath before releasing.

This is perfect because now they think I’m dead.

Although you were surprised about the gunshot, you wore a bulletproof vest, along with the fake blood sacks since you had escaped because you knew that there was a chance you might die trying to leave them. Your hands couldn’t help the trembling as you eyed the bloody puddle under you. Seeming to escape the trance, you hopped up from your seat and began to walk in the opposite direction from where you came.

The car’s atmosphere was thick with tension and grief. Although all the men held the same stoic and zoned out expression, their emotions were going haywire with their decision to kill you. Do they regret it? No. They don’t regret it as your punishment nor as a blockage for you to be able to move on without them. Do they wish you had just listened so it wouldn’t come to this? Indeed. Kazutora wipes the stray tear as his head turns to the side, eyebrows furrowed as he leans back in his seat with crossed arms and a crossed leg. Sanzu slowly cleans the gun used to take your life, wiping in slow yet rough strokes, all the while trying to focus on everything but the memory of your body landing on the ground. Now that his anger was gone, he lacked the adrenaline he had originally.

The Haitani brothers sit next to each other in the back of the black suv, Ran smoking a cigar with a tired expression as well as Rin removing a flask from his suit’s jacket and throwing his head back for a good sip. Mikey sat in the passenger’s seat, eyeing through the windshield with nothing but an empty void filling the inside of his chest. He feels nothing and everything at the same time. You used to be so close to all of them. It was a shame but he knew that he couldn’t allow you to live without him. You chose this. This is your fault.

A sudden ringing interrupts everyone as Mikey grabs the phone and hands it to Kakucho who uses one hand to direct the wheel.

“Hello?”

“You what?!”

Everyone’s eyebrows furrow at his reaction. He lowers the phone before handing it to Mikey with a concerned expression. Mikey sets the phone on his ear as he listens to the other person.

“Boss, her body is gone. She’s nowhere to be found.” Kokonoi says as he crouches down to get a closer look at the busted sack. Using a gloved hand to pick it up before it hangs from his fingers and the remaining liquid leaks.

“I have a feeling she faked her death and has escaped.”

Mikey stares ahead with a more focused expression, his eyes slightly wider than usual as he narrows his gaze.

“Find her, now.”

You eye the two lines with wide eyes. Your hands tremble as your fingers barely hold up the test.

“I-I’m pregnant?!” You hiss. You hop from the toilet and slam open the stall door, tossing it into the trash before walking to the sink and recollecting your memory as you try to search for how this could’ve happened because you genuinely had no remembrance of any sexual encounter in the last few months.

“I-I can’t feel…” The tingling in your limbs causes them to limp as you attempt to move your body around, though hands around your wrists prevent you from budging. Legs sit in between yours as the person on top of you leans over to your ear.

“How much of a dosage did you give her this time, Sanzu?” Kazutora asks before he licks a slow trail from your neck to your ear. You squirm under him as you try to find an escape before your body slightly shuts down and you become still as your eyes become heavier.

“G-guys…” You whisper, trying to come back to reality as you feel him adjust on top of you. Your mouth hangs open in a silent grunt as you feel a firm pressure enter your vagina.

“Enough.” The blue eyed male responds while rubbing his thumb along your forehead, taking in your scrunched nosed expression as Kazutora slowly thrusts into you.

“Fuck.” He whispers as he pressed his cock against your cervix, holding it there as his hands snake to the back of your head and neck, squeezing before he pulls his hips back to repeat the same process.

You shut your eyes tight as the girth stretches you, a stinging sensation surrounding your core before your pussy engulfs his cock perfectly. The pain switched to a conflicting pleasure that your own drugged body couldn’t handle. Your head falls back as Sanzu leans over and pulls you into a heated kiss, while Kazutora holds you tightly, his head on the other side of your neck as he accelerates his pace, hips rocking in a steady rhythm purposefully aiming deep against your g-spot.

Ran watched the display to the side with his brother, enjoying the show as they patiently waited for their turn with Bonten’s signature doll. He man - spreads while sitting with his arms resting against the top of the sofa, one arm slightly behind Rin who has his arms crossed. Both brothers ignore their erections as their pants become tighter, listening to the sounds you make as well as the juices colliding.

Mikey sits in a chair, similar to a throne next to the sofa, eyeing the session with his legs spread, leaning over to where his arms rest on his legs. From this angle, you both make eye contact when Sanzu pulls back.

“P-please stop!” You whine out as tears fall, hoping for Mikey to take control of the situation. Unfortunately, the only response you get are Sanzu’s thumbs smearing your tears and groaning from Kazutora in your ear.

Suddenly, he stops his thrusting and pulls back. He sets your legs on his shoulders as he looks down at you with a glazed over expression, red covering his face along with sweat as he repositions himself before leaning over your thighs and thrusting hard. His pace accelerates once more as he brings you both closer to your release. His forehead rests on yours as he thrusts his hips rhythmically against you. His cock slides in and nearly out of your walls as the head kisses your g-spot repeatedly.

“You're taking his cock so well, sweet girl.” The pink haired male whispers against your ear before nibbling the lobe, his hand sliding on your chest towards your neck before circling his fingers around the surface and slightly squeezing. The stimulation becomes too much, the sensation overwhelming as it mixes with the effects of the drug. Your hips meet his deep thrusts as you cry out.

“So. *thrust* Fucking. *thrust* Good, baby.” Kazutora’s raspy soft spoken words meet your ear as his eyes bore into yours. Biting his lip, he watches as your hands meet his chest as his grip tightens on your legs, along with the thrusts forcing you into having a violent orgasm along with sending him into his own as he moans out your name and his hips move sloppily, riding out both of your orgasms as sweat drips from your skin.

Your hand shakily reached your mouth as you recall when they would drug you up and proceed with sexual acts against your will. You have no clue which of them would even be the father. You knew you had to figure something out but you just didn’t know what. You quickly leave the public restroom and ask to use the cashier’s phone. Once you dial the number, you set it to your ear.

“Draken? C-can you please help me?”

“Ugh, girl come here!” You sigh as you eye the mess left from the little devil.

“What is this?” You question your child, eyeing her golden eyes as you point at the red paint that spilled all over your carpet.

“U-uh, I don’t know mama.” The eight year old responds with a cheeky smile. You shake your head, irritated because of the mess but you breathe out a sigh considering the paint is washable and will be able to be cleaned.

“Yeah, okay. You’re gonna help me clean this up.” You shake your head as your daughter nods. You chuckle to yourself before stating, “And don’t try to lie to me anymore, I can see right through you.”

Your daughter shrugs before leaving to grab some of the supplies. You couldn’t believe how much she grew to look like Kazutora. It was haunting and hard to deal with at times but she had nothing to do with it so the love for your child was enough distraction from how she was created. Before you could follow and help her, you heard a knock on your door. Your eyebrows furrow, not expecting anyone to have appeared so you ignore it.

Once the knocks stop, the ringing of your phone catches your attention. You snatch the device from your pocket and lift it to your ear.

“Hello?” You say to the unknown number.

“You have something of mine, and I’ve come to get it.” Before you could react, your windows were shattered as you crouched down and covered yourself. Immediately going into action, you run to the storage closet in the hallway to grab your child.

“Mama?” She cries out in surprise at the commotion.

“We have to go now!” You snatched her with one hand and pressed a contact with another.

“D-Draken! They broke i-!” Before you could finish, the phone was knocked out of your hand and you were forced to the ground, releasing your child in the process as she’s snatched by a person you hadn’t wanted to see.

“Awe, you really do have my eyes.” Kazutora says warmly with a smile as he holds your child in his arms, the poor girl crying in confusion and fear.

You're cuffed before you’re forced to stand up and face five of the men you never wanted to see.

“M-Mikey, please! She needs me! Don’t t-take her from me!” You yell in hopelessness, the tears falling uncontrollably as you watch Kazutora caress your daughter’s hair. The leader only stares down at you before turning on his heel and walking away, motioning for the other men to snatch you and follow.

“Wow, Y/n. You know, you really had us fooled.” Rin says as he grabs one arm. Ran stands on the other side and mimics his brother’s hold on the opposite arm.

“It’s silly really. We knew only an hour after you escaped and followed you up until this point.”

“You should be thanking the king for not killing you on the spot.” Sanzu growls with his head turned slightly back to make eye contact with you.

“On the bright side we can all be a family, now.” Kazutora beamed.

Truth be told though they would never say it out loud, they were all thankful that you hadn’t actually died. They found it humorous that you thought you could escape their radar at all. Now having been caught, you could only stare ahead, in hopes that if you comply, you could possibly come up with a plan to safely take your child and completely leave your past behind.

358 notes · View notes

queenshelby · 5 months ago

Text

Our Little Secret (Part 64)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap, Triggers, Smut

An hour later, and after Cillian had put Mara to bed, you sat down on the couch and opened a bottle of wine. You were feeling a bit anxious about the upcoming intimate scene between Cillian and Annabelle, and you couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that had been brewing inside of you since you had left the restaurant. You knew that you had no reason to feel that way. Even if there was something between Cillian and his costar, it was really none of your business.

As if sensing your discomfort though, Cillian sat down beside you, filling himself up a glass of red as well. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, looking at you with concern.

You took a deep breath before turning to him. "It's nothing, really," you said, trying to suppress the emotions churning inside you, but Cillian knew that something was bothering you. He took a sip of his wine before setting the glass down on the coffee table and leaned towards you.

"What is it?" he asked, putting a comforting hand on your shoulders.

You hesitated for a moment before confessing the events that had taken place at dinner that evening. "It's just that...," you began but stopped yourself. "I don't know. I had to think about that article recently and I was wondering whether, you know, never mind," you said, your voice trailing off as you looked away from him.

Cillian's grip on your shoulder tightened slightly. "No, what is it?" he asked, his voice soft yet insistent.

"Well, it is just about that article in the Irish Times, where it said that you and Annabelle had an affair back in 2014 while you were married to Danielle and, after meeting her, I am still wondering whether there was some truth to it," you finally admitted in a low voice, pressing your lips together in a tight line.

"What?" Cillian chuckled, pulling away slightly as he stared at you with disbelief. "What makes you think that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at you in amusement.

"Did you not notice her flirting with you all evening?" you asked, unable to hide the incredulity in your voice.

"Flirting with me?" Cillian looked surprised. "You mean her comment about my eyes?" he asked, a puzzled expression on his face. "That wasn't flirting, Y/N. She was just making a joke. I can assure you that there has never been anything between her and me, other than a professional relationship. We worked together on a show and that's it," he said, his voice steady and sincere before pausing slightly. "Also, I don't know why you even care, because we aren't together anymore, so...," Cillian sighed heavily, taking a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts just before you continued, asking him another question.

"How does this work, with the intimate scenes and all?" you asked, feeling your nerves getting the better of you as you tried to make sense of the things you were feeling.

Cillian took a deep breath, rubbing his forehead as if weary. "Uhm, what do you mean?" Cillian asked, looking taken aback by the abrupt change in topic.

"You know, with scenes and stuff," you stated, gesturing vaguely with your hand.

Cillian gave you a puzzled look. "No I don't know. What's your question?" he wanted to know, trying not to appear annoyed.

"Do you actually kiss her, like properly? And touch her? I mean, if you do, I am not really surprised that she thinks that...," you trailed off, causing Cillian to interrupt.

"Listen Y/N, these scenes are awkward at best. They are the most uncomfortable scenes to film, and I don't actually think that any actor enjoys doing them," Cillian sighed, setting his wine glass down on the table before leaning forward in his seat to face you. "And yes, my character kisses her character. There is some touching too, but it means absolutely nothing, because it is all part of an act and nothing more," Cillian continued as you took a big sip from your glass.

"Come on though, you can't tell me that you don't enjoy kissing a really pretty woman like her," you replied, a bit of playful sass in your voice, trying to lighten the mood.

"No, I don't," Cillian said with a deadpan expression on his face. "It's awkward as fuck and she is not really my type,"

he added with a slight chuckle. "Trust me, filming those scenes is as unenjoyable as it sounds."

You took another sip of your wine, nodding slowly in agreement. "Alright, I get it," you finally admitted, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I am sorry that I asked, but it just had me wondering because the way she was looking at you tonight... I don't know, I guess I just had to ask," you explained, shrugging slightly as you looked down at your hands.

Cillian let out a sigh before responding. "Because you are jealous?" Cillian asked softly, his eyes never leaving your face.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "No," you finally said, shaking your head. "Well, maybe just a little." You looked up at him, meeting his gaze. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea, but seeing her looking at you like that brought back a lot of memories and I guess I just couldn't help but feel...weird?"

Cillian raised an eyebrow at you. "Weird?" he repeated, sounding amused.

You rolled your eyes. "Yes, weird. Like I still care about you. A lot."

"Right," Cillian tilted his head, a curious expression gracing his features. He took a slow sip of his drink while eyeing you thoughtfully. "Do you still love me?" Cillian asked, setting down his wine glass as his eyes locked onto yours.

"Yes," you admitted softly, unable to tear your gaze away from his. "I guess I do still love you, Cillian and I miss being with you, so fucking much," you confessed, your voice cracking slightly with emotion. "I just want to go back to the way things used to be, the way it was between us before everything fell apart."

Cillian swallowed hard at your words, his eyes softening with understanding. "I know what you mean," he replied, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I miss it too. I miss being with you, talking with you, sleeping next to you. I miss everything about us," he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours.

You took a deep breath, feeling your heart racing at his words. You missed him too, all of those little moments you used to share, the stolen kisses, the way he would always wrap his arms around you protectively, making you feel cherished and loved.

"Do you think we could give us another chance?" you asked hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper, taking Cillian by surprise.

For months, he had begged you to take him back and now that you had finally brought it up, he found himself at a loss for words.

He looked at you, taking in your hopeful expression and the way your eyes seemed to dance with excitement. "Yes," he finally said, his voice barely audible. "You know I would do anything for you to give me another chance," he went on, his voice unsteady with emotion.

"Okay, I will give you another chance, but don't fuck it up," you said sternly, trying to keep the emotion out of your voice.

Before Cillian could respond, you leaned forward, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss, your body molding against his as you let yourself get swept up in the moment.

"I love you," he whispered against your lips, his hands coming up to cup your face as he deepened the kiss, making you moan softly.

"I love you too," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer still.

For several long moments, you lost yourself in the kiss, the taste and feel of Cillian driving any lingering doubts from your mind as you reconnected with a man you could never truly forget.

You didn't know if it was possible for things to be the same between the two of you again, but you wanted to try, and it seemed Cillian felt the same.

When you finally broke the kiss, you pulled back to gaze into his eyes, and there was a passionate intensity that made your heart race faster.

"I want us to live together as a family . Just you, me, and Mara. I want us to try and build a life together," you said, looking into his eyes with all the sincerity you possessed.

For a moment, Cillian simply stared at you, stunned by your sudden declaration, but then a slow smile spread over his face as he nodded in agreement.

"I thought you weren't ready for that?" he murmured, searching your face as if trying to gauge your certainty.

You took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before meeting his gaze evenly. "I wasn't then," you admitted truthfully. "But I am now. I want to try, Cillian. I want us to be a proper family, no matter what that entails."

Cillian stared at you for a moment longer, as if trying to determine whether or not you meant what you were saying, before he wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace that spoke volumes.

"I want that too," he breathed into your hair, his arms tightening around you protectively.

The relief that washed over you in that moment was something you couldn't quite describe. For the longest time, you had longed for the kind of connection you had once shared with Cillian, feeling lost and adrift without that guiding force in your life, and now, finally, it seemed as though there was a chance to rebuild.

"Good," you smiled , burying your face in his neck as you pressed yourself closer to him, relishing in the feeling of his arms wrapped around you.

It was a bittersweet moment, knowing that there was still work to be done, but you felt a renewed sense of hope, taking solace in the fact that you would have him by your side as you navigated through the challenges ahead.

"Now show me how much you still want me!" you then told Cillian, pulling out of the kiss and looking at him with eyes that were so filled with desire that you could hardly contain yourself.

Cillian didn't need any further encouragement. He pulled you closer, his hands wandering over your body as he kissed you deeply, his lips hungry for yours.

"God, I've missed this. I've missed you," he whispered in between kisses, trailing them down your neck before reaching beneath your t-shirt to cupping your breasts over your bra.

You moaned softly, arching your back as you pulled him closer. "I want you so much," you breathed out, your voice hoarse with desire.

Cillian's hands wandered over your body and, before you knew it, he pulled your t-shirt over your head, leaving you in your bra and jeans.

His tongue trailed a hot path down your neck, before placing kisses across your collarbones.

Eventually, helped you slide your jeans off too, tossing them aside, leaving you in just your lace underwear. Cillian's hunger was evident in the way his hands and mouth greedily explored your body, his fingers tracing the edge of your underwear with a hint of tease.

"Take this off," you told him, tucking at his t-shirt at the same time. Cillian obliged, pulling it off to reveal his toned chest, covered in soft curls of hair.

You couldn't help but let your gaze linger on him a little as your hands wandered over his bare skin, feeling the muscles twitch beneath your fingers.

Cillian groaned at the sensation of your exploring touch, his hips bucking sharply against yours as he pulled you closer.

Your lips found each other's again and you kissed him deeply, almost desperately, as if trying to make up for the lost time.

Not long after, his jeans came off too and he was left in just his briefs, his thick erection pressed against your thigh.

You couldn't help but moan softly at the sensation, a shiver of lust running down your spine as you realized just how much you needed this. The past months had been challenging, to say the least, but now, with Cillian, you felt as if you could finally breathe again.

"Fuck Y/N," Cillian groaned, his hands sliding down to your waist, pulling your hips closer to his. "I want you so badly right now," he whispered, nipping at the skin of your neck as he unclasped your bra, letting it fall to the floor.

His hands wandered over your bare breasts, his thumbs grazing over your nipples, making you gasp at the sudden spark of pleasure that ran through your entire body.

You reached down, gripping his erection through the fabric of his briefs, making him growl low in his throat as his hips thrust forward.

"Jesus," Cillian breathed out, his fingers tightening on your hips.

"Let's just skip the foreplay for tonight. I really need to feel you inside me," you whispered into his ear, your hot breath making his cock twitch in anticipation.

Cillian groaned in response, pulling you even closer as he kissed you deeply. "Are you sure?" he asked against your lips, his tongue tracing the curve of your bottom lip. "Because you do know very well what my mouth can do."

"Yes, I am sure," you replied, tugging at the waistband of his briefs. "I really need your cock right now!"

Cillian didn't need any more encouragement. He quickly pulled the fabric of his briefs down and kicked it aside while you stood up and got rid of your panties quickly before climbing on top of him.

Your wetness brushed against the tip of his cock, making you let out a low moan before you positioned yourself above Cillian and slowly sank down on him.

"Oh fuck," Cillian groaned, his head falling back on the couch as you sheathed him fully inside of you. You let out a deep, shuddering groan of your own, relishing in the pleasure of being filled by him again.

You didn't waste any time. With one swift motion, you pushed yourself down, taking him all the way in.

"Fuck, Y/N," Cillian groaned, hands gripping your hips tightly.

You started to move up and down, savoring the feeling of his thick cock filling you up, the sensation of his skin sliding against yours, the sounds of his grunts and moans as you pleasured each other.

You rode him with abandon, the couch creaking and groaning with the force of your movements.

You could feel Cillian's cock hitting your deepest spots, again and again, in a rhythm that was both delicious and maddening.

"Fuck, you feel amazing," Cillian groaned, hands gripping your hips tighter as he bucked his hips up towards you.

You could only moan in agreement, the sound escaping your lips as you increased your pace. You could feel yourself getting close, the familiar tingling sensation starting to build in your lower belly.

"I am planning to do this every night from now on. Every fucking night!" you panted out, throwing your head back as you felt the beginnings of your orgasm building within you.

Cillian's fingers dug into your hips as he thrust upwards, matching your rhythm. "Yes, every fucking night," he agreed, his voice strained with lust.

You could feel his cock swelling inside you, telling you that he was close too. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," you cried out, your fingernails digging into his shoulders as you rode him harder and faster.

You left scratch marks on his skin as you clung to him, trying to hold on as your orgasm built to a crescendo.

Cillian wrapped an arm around your waist, percentage guiding you, his breath hot and ragged against your ear as he hammered into you from below.

The corners of your vision blurred as colors danced behind your eyes, your body writhing and convulsing as your orgasm enveloped you completely.

"Yes, yes!" you screamed.

Cillian's thrusts faltered slightly as he felt the walls of your pussy trembling and fluttering around him, milking him for every drop of cum he had, before he too, pushed over the edge.

"Fuck, I'm cumming!" he cried out, voice hoarse and strained as his body stiffened and convulsed beneath you. His cock swelled impossibly harder and thicker as rivers of warm cum pumped deep into your core, filling you to the brim with his essence.

"Oh fuck, I'm still cumming!" Cillian groaned, his hips bucking faster and faster as you milked him dry.

You collapsed against him, panting and spent, your body and mind in complete ecstasy.

Cillian's arms wrapped around you as he breathed in ragged gasps, his cock still twitching inside of you.

For a moment, you just lay there on the couch, your two bodies pressed tightly together, hearts beating in sync as if to a wild, primal rhythm.

Cillian's chest rose and fell against yours, hands gently stroking your back in slow, soothing motions. You could feel the aftershocks of your orgasm still rippling through your body, still trembling with the overwhelming force of it.

Cillian too, remained inside you, still half-hard, his warm semen slowly leaking from your swollen pussy and trickling down your thighs.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally managed a weak laugh, burying your face in Cillian's neck.

Your entire body felt deliciously heavy and languid with pleasure, and it took every ounce of your willpower to push yourself up slightly off his chest just so you could look into his face.

"That was amazing," you whispered, your lips curling up into a soft smile of pure satisfaction as you traced the curve of Cillian's jaw with the pad of your thumb.

Cillian chuckled softly, brushing tendrils of damp hair from your forehead as he gazed into your eyes.

"It was quick, but so fucking good," he confirmed, seeing how you had only been at it for about twenty minutes.

"I know," you replied, your voice still breathless as you snuggled up close to him before, finally, lifting your hips so that his cock would slip out of you . You flinched at the sudden rush of wetness between your legs, a remnant of what had just happened still dripping from your pussy.

Cillian himself groaned in disappointment as he felt his cock soften, the withdrawal painful.

"I could stay inside you forever," Cillian whispered, peppering kisses over your neck and shoulders. His hands were wandering over your waist and hips, softly stroking your skin with a tenderness that almost made you cry.

You chuckled softly.

"I think I would like that," you replied, before sighing blissfully and reaching down between your legs to touch yourself, still wet with his semen.

Cillian watched you through half-lidded eyes as your fingers dipped between your pussy lips and came back glistening with the mix of both of your juices.

You brought it to your mouth , eyes still locked on his as you licked your lips slowly, savoring the taste of your lovemaking and Cillian swallowed hard at the sight.

"I think it is time for bed," you then announced softly, standing up from the couch. "You have to be up early again tomorrow morning to film that scene with Annabelle, remember?" you teased, with a sly little grin before wobbling off to the bedroom and Cillian chuckled weakly response before hauling himself up from the couch, his entire body still buzzing and tingling with euphoria from the mind-blowing sex you just had on this very couch.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts @blondie-22

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22

#cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy

155 notes · View notes

valley-of-headcanons · 7 months ago

Note

I have a request because I’m curious. I’d love to see your headcannons on the bachelors finding out that their lovely farmer that they adore was previously in an abusive relationship and that why they really fled the city. Maybe a little added bonus on how they’d react bumping into said person

bachelors with an abused partner || headcanons

your past isn't something to be ashamed of, and these lovely bachelors make you feel right at home <3

warnings: heavy topics today! abusive relationship mentions + interactions with the abuser. farmer is triggered by their partner's actions (yelling, joking shove, etc.), resulting in a panic attack. comfort fic :)

requested by: anon! hi, thank you so much for the request! i love comfort fics, so i hope that this provides you comfort as well! if anyone reading is going through this situation, please reach out to the people around you and get tf out, no one deserves such a thing :( anyway! hope you enjoy <3

alex

• When the time came around to tell Alex about your past relationships, you made sure to sit him down. You wanted him to truly understand how serious this was. So, you started to explain everything, detail for detail ... this led to a lot of emotions being brought back. Of course, you were emotional, but Alex seemed even more emotional.

• Alex was pissed. He was livid about how that person treated you. How dare someone even go that far? You're such a lovely person, he just cannot wrap his head around it ... but eventually, he realizes that he needs to put his emotions aside so that he can show you the love you need right now. He wraps stands and wraps his arms around you, kissing your cheek.

• “You're gonna be okay ... I'm gonna keep you safe, not matter what, 'kay? You're not gonna be in any of those situations, none of those words will ever be said in your direction as long as I'm around. Want to go lay down? You look like you're about to fall out ...” he says in the softest voice he can.

• Alex would try his best to respect your triggers as much as he can, but everyone makes mistakes sometimes. When in a simple disagreement, he ends up raising his voice. This sends shivers down your spine. When he notices you start to shake, tears pricking your eyes, he stops what he's doing immediately. It might take him a moment to realize, but he doesn't want to put you in harm's way what-so-ever.

• “Hey, hey, hey, I'm sorry ... listen, I'm not them. I promise you, I'm not him. I didn't mean to raise my voice, and I promise it's not that serious ... I'm not gonna hurt you. I wouldn't do anything on purpose ... you're safe here, I promise. We're just tired and wiped out. We need rest, and we'll bring all this up again later, yeah? Okay ... I love you.”

• If you two were to run into your abuser, Alex would immediately come to your aid. He would block you from the abuser's view, trying his hardest to protect you. He would hold a conversation with you, attempting to keep your mind off of the triggering presence. Eventually, if you need to get out of there, he takes you by the hand and leads you away. He makes sure to keep an eye out for everything that could possibly hurt you, and he does a fantastic job at it.

elliott

• When the time came to tell Elliott about your past relationships, you tried to warn him that this is going to be a heavy topic. After seeing your demeanor change, he started to worry. He inquired more, to which you provided. You explained every detail that you could, which was definitely emotional. But Elliott ... his emotions were written all over his face. God, he was devastated.

• Elliott looked absolutely defeated. He couldn't fathom how anyone could hurt you in such a harsh way. All he wanted to do was protect you with every bit of himself, but he walked into your life a bit too late. So, he needed to do what he could now that he was here. He kneeled down in front of you, taking your hands in his. He pressed a soft kiss onto your knuckles.

• “Love ... I don't know what to say. I have been rendered speechless by an idiotic hoodlum who has forsaken you. You will never be hurt again in my care, and I will promise you that. Live your life with no worry, and I will be at your side. Let me accompany, protect, and adore every aspect of you. You will be okay, my dearest, and I love you.”

• Eliott would rather die than make you uncomfortable. He tried his hardest to avoid any triggers, respect your boundaries, and love you with as much caution as he needed to. However, he accidentally messed up once. He said a phrase that was triggering to you, but he didn't know. You hadn't mentioned it, you had actually blocked that out. But when he said it, memories came flooding back, causing you to have a panic attack. He immediately came to your side, attempting to calm you down as you stuttered out your explanation.

• “My dearest, I am so very sorry. I didn't realize that would upset you. I promise, whatever intention that was used back then is not mine. I apologize as deeply as I can, and I vow to make it up to you. What can I do? ... let's go take a walk, okay? That way we can get our minds off of things. The beach would be a nice place, the sound of the waves can drown out the horrible memories. Is that okay with you? ... then let's go, my love.”

• If you two were to run into your abuser, Elliott would immediately wrap a protective arm around you. He would carry on, keeping an eye on both you and the abuser. If they were to approach you two, he would say something out of character, insulting the deepest darkest parts of their soul. Words that would never leave Elliott's mouth would fly out on this rare occasion. He would then take you home and make you some tea, calming you down as much as he could. He would make you feel as safe as he could.

harvey

• When the time came to tell Harvey about your past relationships, he could read the anxiety on face. It was fairly evident. So, he rested his hand on your back as you began to speak. As you opened up about all of the details you could think of, he softly rubbed your back. It was comforting, but not enough to keep you from being emotional. Harvey tried to keep a calm demeanor the whole time, acting as a stable rock for you.

• He tried to keep you calm by rubbing your back. After realizing this wasn't working, he pulled you into his arms carefully. He was more worried about keeping you calm and happy now, and he wanted to help you cope with everything later on down the line. What happened, happened. He has accepted that. It's a horrendous thing, but with the amount of people he's seen in his office, it happens. So, he focused as much as he could on making you feel better.

• “I'm so sorry, sweetheart. Thank you for sharing all of this with me, I'll certainly keep it in mind. What can I do moving forward that can help you? As your boyfriend, I will try my hardest to keep you safe and sound. I promise. I ... I am baffled that someone could do such a thing to you. You're safe now, sweetheart.”

• Harvey does his best to avoid triggering topics. He does mental gymnastics around these topics, and he sincerely tries his best. But, when you catch him humming a song that your abuser would hum ... you couldn't help but have a panic attack. Of course, after he figured out what was wrong, he would immediately stop and help.

• “Please love, take deep breaths. In ... hold ... out ... keep repeating that for me, alright sweetheart? Okay ... I'm so sorry, I didn't realize. I will keep this in mind from now on, but please tell me what else I can do. I know you forgot and that's not your fault. Keep taking those deep breaths for me ... you're doing okay, I promise. Nothing's going to hurt you here.”

• If you two were to run into your abuser, Harvey would sweep you away as soon as possible. If he even caught a glimpse of the person who hurt you, he would take your hand in his and lead you away as fast as he could. Leading you back to the house, he would sit with you close and make sure to keep an eye on the door. He was insistent on keeping you safe and out of sight. Harvey didn't know what he would do if the abuser was around you, but he knew it wouldn't be good. He loved you too much to put you in harm's way.

sam

• When the time came around to tell Sam about your past relationships, he didn't really expect anything. Okay, you were in a relationship, so what? He didn't expect anything bad, why would anyone do anything bad to you? You're so lovely, bad relationships shouldn't happen to you. But as you told him about everything that had happened to you ... Sam was baffled.

• He was so confused, how could this happen to you? Sam always treated you with respect and kindness and so, so much love! People are horrible, and Sam wasn't expecting this in the slightest. He made that clear to you, resting his hands on your cheeks. He pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead before wiping your tears with his thumb.

• “I never would've guessed that would've happened to you! If I see that fucker, promise you'll let me at 'em? You don't deserve that- you don't deserve anything of the sort! I just ... I love you so much, please don't forget that ... I wouldn't do anything to put you in harm's way, I would rather die, actually. Come here,” he said, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close.

• Sam was pretty cautious about what you said triggered you, but sometimes things happen. He forgot that sudden loud noises made you upset, so when he was practicing on the drum set with no warning ... oops. He noticed how upset you looked, covering your ears. He stopped, cocking his head to the side and asking what was wrong. When you explained, he felt so bad.

• “Oh my God- I am so sorry. I forgot, I didn't realize- fuck ... please, let me make it up to you. Don't cry ... please? I-I promise, I didn't mean to. I was just practicing, but I'll make sure I'll warn you next time or use a mute. I love you, I am so sorry ... you're okay, you're not the one who needs to be apologizing. I love ya, hon. I'll make it up to you, I promise.”

• If you two were to run into your abuser, Sam wouldn't be able to hold back. He would send you off to hang out with Sebastian while he let loose on this fucker. He would beat the absolute shit of out of them (if they are male. If they were female, he would use his words because his mom brought him up right. He would fuck them up with his words though, I promise you that.) He would return to you beaten and bruised, but he would laugh it off. As long as you were safe and nothing was going to harm you, he was perfectly fine.

sebastian

• When the time came to tell Sebastian about your past relationships, he wasn't really worried. He loved you and was curious about your past, but he didn't expect anything necessarily bad. So, you sat him down on the couch. He didn't think it would be too serious, so he laid down against the arm, listening to you intently. But, as you started explaining everything in detail ... he sat straight up.

• Sebastian had always tried his hardest to keep his emotions subdued, he didn't like dealing with them. But things like this ... they made him emotional. Tears were in his eyes, which he tried to blink back. He really loved you, and he couldn't believe anyone could do such a thing to you. He needed to make sure you were okay, so he took your hand.

• “I ... I'm sorry, I'm just kinda speechless ... I promise, I love you, and that's not going to happen again. On my life, nothing will ever happen like that with me. I will ... I will work as hard as I can to keep you safe. Let me know what I can do to help ... you're precious to me. I wouldn't let you in harm's way.”

• He tried his hardest to keep your triggers in mind whenever he could, but we all forget sometimes. While you two were playing video games, he jokingly shoved you a little bit too hard. Of course, this brought back memories which sent you spiralling ... uh oh. Sebastian knew that he had messed up. He needed to bring you back to Earth somehow. He got on his knees in front of you and took your hands in his.

• “Hey, I'm sorry ... I didn't mean it like that. I won't do that anymore, it's just reflexes after hanging out with Sam for so long. I love you, and I would never hurt you on purpose. I won't put my hands on you like that again, okay? ... let me know what I can do to help, I would do anything and everything for you. I'd bend the Earth if I could ... yeah, we can lay down. Wanna pick a movie? ... I'll start some popcorn, go find something and I'll be in there shortly. I love you.”

• If you two were to run into your abuser, Sebastian would make sure to keep you safe. He'd have an arm around you at all times, watching over you while doing daily tasks. If the person were to come up to you, he would shoot a rude comment their way while calculating a way to get you out of this situation safely. The back and forth banter would last a while, but Sebastian wouldn't fight them. He'd make them want to fight him, but he wouldn't dare shoot the first punch. He's mature enough to avoid that situation.

shane

• When the time came around to tell Shane about your past relationships, Shane just shrugged when you brought it up. The past is the past, what's the issue? He soon found out that there were actually a lot of issues. When you slowly went through everything you could, letting all the details slip, Shane just stared daggers into the ground. Holy shit.

• Shane is a damaged person, yes. But knowing that you're damaged, just like him? It made his heart break. You didn't deserve that, that treatment wasn't meant for people like you. He shook his head, his elbows on his knees. He couldn't believe someone would do shit like that, they have some fucking nerve.

• “Fuck 'em. They're not here anymore, and I'll make sure they stay the hell away. Your feelings are valid, and I understand. If you ever need to talk about anythin', let me know ... I'm not the best with emotions, but I promise that I'm always here for ya. Just ... anythin' you need, I guess.”

• Shane tried his hardest to step around your triggers, but when you're a bit tipsy, mistakes are easy to make. You two were having a small disagreement when he accidentally dropped his glass. As the glass shattered, shockwaves were sent through your body. He saw your eyes widen in fear before they began to prick with tears. You didn't think he did it on purpose, did you? He walked closer to you with his hands out, trying to show that he wasn't going to hurt you. He just wanted to comfort you.

• “I promise that wasn't on purpose, hon- the glass just slipped. I wouldn't throw a glass or any shit like that ... has that happened before ...? Fuck- I am so sorry. I love you, I promise, and I wouldn't ever throw shit at you. Let me make it up to you, yeah? I'll hold you for the rest of the night, make you feel all safe ... I am really, really sorry ...”

• If the two of you were to run into your abuser, Shane would certainly have some choice words. He would yell at them from afar, nothing up close, and simply walk away with you by his side. He didn't want to create too much drama, but he wanted that fucker to know that weren't welcome in this town. They weren't welcome around you. All Shane cared about was you, and it was evident.

181 notes · View notes