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joemama-2 · 2 days ago

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˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ a symphony of silence

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ synopsis: if you want to know what it’s like to love someone who was never yours, ask gojo satoru.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ tags/warnings: angst, unrequited love, crying, happy ending, talks of soulmates

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ wc: 5.5k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ a/n: thank you all so much for 1k followers!! I appreciate every bit of love and support I have received and I hope with this new year, I can make you all happy with my work. :) this is just a little thing, but I really hope u guys enjoy it. as always, have a wonderful day and eat well!

The days feel brighter with you.

No amount of paperwork, miscalculations, messed up orders can change the light you bring into his life. The moment he met you, he knew it was strange. Feeling himself being reeled in like a fish too quickly scared him. But if you asked him that question, he’d never admit his fear.

His smile had a mind of its own, curling up in a subconscious way whenever you so much as spared him a fleeting glance. And when you smiled at him? He was on cloud nine. His heart beat faster and stomach fluttered like a little schoolboy when he was in your vicinity.

But he was always careful. So careful, too careful. Like the way someone treads lightly around a fragile thing they can never keep. You were so full of life, so innocent in your joy, and he was nothing but a darkened silhouette in the background.

He knew what you deserved, and it wasn’t him. Not a man like him, burdened with secrets and a past he couldn’t shake off. And you? You were meant for someone who could offer the world, not someone like him who could barely provide anything but a fleeting moment of warmth.

He had a way of slipping into your presence unnoticed, his longing buried deep within the corners of his chest. When he laughed at your jokes, it was because he couldn’t bear the thought of you seeing through him, of knowing just how badly he wanted to be more than a passing acquaintance. He wanted to reach out, touch your hand, but the words always died in his throat, swallowed by the fear of your rejection.

He knew the truth, though. You would never see him as he saw you. You would never feel that electric pull, that magnetic force that lured him to you in ways he couldn’t explain, ways he would never allow himself to. Because it would hurt too much, to love someone who didn’t even know.

The days grew brighter with you, but in the back of his mind, he could feel the darkness creeping in. He was just a shadow in your life, and nothing more. And it was enough for him, even if it meant living in a love that would never be returned. As long as you were happy. As long as you smiled. That was all he could ever ask for. He sometimes joked with himself about just saying ‘fuck it’ and getting down on one knee for you. He would.

Too bad his best friend had the balls to do it before he did.

He saw it coming, of course. You and Suguru have been together for five years. He was there through every phase of your growing relationship, a background character in a main couple’s story. It’s why he felt guilty about his feelings—his thoughts. But he always justified it with a he knew you first.

He watched the way Suguru could make you laugh with the simplest words, how your eyes lit up when he held you close. It was the kind of love that made the world feel like it had all the right answers—answers he never had. He shouldn’t be pining after you. You were Suguru’s, and the world had made that clear. But there was always a part of him that entertained the what ifs. He was there before Suguru, before the smiles and the promises, before the certainty of love that seemed to hold you two together like a force stronger than gravity.

And yet, here he was, helpless. Watching you slip further away, like sand through his fingers. You were so easy to love, and so impossible to have.

He’d gotten good at keeping his distance. At laughing along with Suguru’s jokes, at pretending to be happy for the both of you. But inside, it was a constant ache, a pain that never went away, no matter how many times he buried it under a mask of smiles and camaraderie. He wondered if you ever noticed the way he looked at you. The quiet longing that always seemed to flicker in his eyes when you spoke. But you never did. How could you? You were too wrapped up in the love you had with Suguru to ever see the way his heart twisted with every word you spoke, every touch you gave.

But maybe, just maybe, he could keep pretending. Keep pretending that your happiness meant more than his own. Because that’s what love was, right? Sacrificing for the one you cared about, even if they never knew the weight of it.

“Are you happy, Satoru?”

Your question was simple enough, but you really had no idea just how much weight it held. Not like he would tell you. His head tilts, playfully smiling. “Happy? Why do you ask, hm?”

“I’ve just been wondering…” you mutter, tracing your glass rim with a manicured nail. Looking up at him in such a way that makes him want to wrap his arms around your body and hold on tight. “I don’t want to be invasive, but sometimes it just feels…faked.”

Huh, so you’re not as oblivious as he thought you were.

But your words hit him like a cold wave, a shock to his system. You had no idea. You never would. The smile on his face falters for just a moment, yet it’s enough. Enough to make him feel like he’s exposed, vulnerable, like you might see right through the layers he’d spent so long building up.

Faked.

That word stings more than anything else you could’ve said. Because, in some twisted way, you were right. He had spent so long pretending, so long wearing a mask that even he had begun to forget what it was like to feel anything real. What it was like to want something for himself, to let someone in without fear.

He takes a slow breath, his gaze softening, eyes flicking to the side, pretending to consider the question. “I’m happy. Why wouldn’t I be?” His voice is casual, a practiced indifference, but inside, his heart is pounding.

You don’t buy it. You never did.

“I don’t know, Satoru. You always seem so… distant. Like you’re somewhere else, even when you’re here.” There’s a hint of concern in your tone, but it’s laced with a careful distance, as if you’re treading around something fragile.

He swallows hard, the weight of your gaze digging into him. You see it, don’t you? The cracks in the armor he’s so carefully constructed. The loneliness he hides behind every joke, every flirtatious smile.

But he can’t tell you the truth. Not when your words have the power to break him, to shatter everything he’s built up around himself. He can’t show you how deeply he cares, how much he wants to reach out and make you see him for what he truly is—just a man who’s afraid of losing something he’s never had.

He laughs, a little too loud—a little too involuntary. “I’m just a little busy, that’s all. Life’s a bit chaotic, but I’m fine. Really.”

Even so, you still don’t look convinced. And for a split second, he wonders if you’ve figured it out. If you can see the way his heart aches every time he’s near you, how badly he wishes things were different. How badly he wishes he could be the one to make you smile, make you laugh, in a way that wasn’t tainted by his unspoken feelings.

However instead, you just smile softly, a quiet understanding in your eyes. For just a moment, he thinks maybe you’ve known this whole time. Of course, he’ll never make you aware of how much that question, those few words, broke him inside. Not now. Not ever.

He can feel the cold of your engagement ring pressed against the back of his palm, looking over at you with parted lips, raised brows. Your expression is soft—too inviting. He almost can’t take it anymore.

Your entire being brings him in, wrapping around his soul like a warm blanket on a cold night. Your eyes can hold a thousand different meanings, but so can your touch. The world blurs into a fade when it’s just you and him, like it always does. He can see the fireworks, feel the softness of your skin against his.

He wants you so much.

It’s a quiet ache, a longing that starts in the pit of his stomach and spreads like wildfire, burning him from the inside out. He’s so close to you now, the air between you two charged, heavy with unsaid words and unspoken desires.

Your breath catches as you watch him, and it only makes things worse. It’s as if you’re reading him, sensing the intensity of the pull that draws him to you, even though you shouldn’t. Even though you’re promised to someone else. But for a moment, it’s just the two of you in this space, and everything else ceases to exist.

His heart races as he subconsciously leans in, just a fraction of an inch. Like a man on the edge of something dangerous, something he knows he shouldn’t want, but does anyway. His fingers twitch against your wrist, the ring there a painful reminder of the distance between what is and what could never be.

You shift slightly, a small motion, but it’s enough to send a jolt through him. You’re so close now, your warmth seeping into him, your scent intoxicating. In a single brief and fleeting instant, he wonders if you feel the same pull, if you’re as caught in the web of longing as he is.

Just then, you blink; and the spell is broken. You pull back just enough. The correct amount of room to create a sliver of space, he feels his heart sink. “I…” Your voice is barely a whisper, as if you’re struggling with the weight of the moment too. But he knows what’s coming. You always have that hesitation, that gentle reluctance when it comes to him.

He swallows, the words caught in his throat, but the truth is too painful to speak. He can’t admit how much he wants you. He can’t admit that, despite the ring on your finger, despite everything that keeps you apart, he’s falling for you in ways that have nothing to do with logic and everything to do with his heart.

“I know,” he whispers finally, his voice low, barely audible, because it’s the only thing he can say without completely shattering the fragile barrier that keeps everything in check.

When deep down, in the part of him that refuses to let go, he wishes with everything he has that you could see him. That you could feel what he feels.

That you could love him, just once, the way he loves you.

He puts on his usual smile. He knows you see through it now, but there’s no point in hiding it. There’s no point in hiding anything anymore, is there? “I know,” he repeats.

The words fall heavy between you, thick with unspoken truths, and yet, they feel like a fragile lie. He laughs again, but it’s different now. Not the carefree expression he usually wears, but one edged with something raw—something too real for either of you to ignore. He knows you see the cracks. He knows you feel the tension and the weight of everything he doesn’t say. It makes him ache in ways he can’t describe. You’ve always seen him, better than anyone else, better than he ever allowed anyone to. And even now, when the distance between you is palpable, when everything about this moment screams to turn away, neither of you can.

You’re still staring at him, your eyes warm but searching. You want more. You want to know what’s behind that smile, what’s behind the guarded words, the silence that screams louder than anything he’s ever said. You want to see through the layers, even when he’s terrified of what you might find.

Except that’s the truth of it, isn’t it? He’s terrified. Terrified of losing you, terrified of the vulnerability that comes with loving someone so completely. Terrified that you’ll slip away from him, like everyone else does.

“Satoru…” Your voice trembles slightly, hesitation lingering in the air like an uninvited guest. You want to say something, but you don’t know how. You want to reach for him, but you know the consequences. The space between you both feels endless, a chasm that neither of you can cross.

He really can’t keep pretending anymore.

His smile falters, his eyes dimming as he finally lets go of the pretense, removing the silence hanging in the air. He feels the weight of your gaze on him, steady and knowing, and something inside him breaks.

You know. You always knew.

“I don’t want to hide this anymore,” he admits quietly, his voice strained, his chest tight with the confession. It’s not a declaration of love, not yet. However, it’s the closest thing he can give you right now—the truth, raw and painful. He’s not sure what you’ll do with it, if it’ll push you further away or bring you closer, but the honesty feels both freeing and suffocating at the same time. He waits for your response, his heart hammering in his chest, terrified of the silence that follows. Because no matter what happens next, he knows that something between the two of you has irrevocably shifted. And there’s no going back.

When you look away from him, he gets his answer. With that, he laughs softly to himself in understanding. Not even needing to hear your soft words—whispered apologies. Because at the end of the day, he knew what would happen.

He’s not mad at you for it, how could he be?

You’ve always been his anchor, even if you couldn’t see it. Even if he was just the one who stood in the background, quietly waiting, hoping for a moment like this. He knew that in the end, it would never be him, and somehow, he had accepted that. But it doesn’t make the ache any less painful, the hollow feeling in his chest where something once burned bright.

You’ve always belonged to someone else.

The way you look away, the way your fingers subtly twist the fabric of your shirt as if you’re gathering the courage to speak, tells him everything. You don’t need to apologize for anything. He knows. He always has.

But it doesn’t stop the weight from pressing down on him. It doesn’t stop the way his heart cracks, just a little bit more, with every moment that stretches between you both.

He should leave. Walk away before it hurts too much. Yet something keeps him there—something that’s always kept him tethered to you, even in your silence. Once more, he chuckles quietly. The sound is bitter in the back of his throat. He puts his smile back into place, masking the storm brewing inside. “It’s okay,” he says softly, almost as if he’s reassuring himself as much as you. “I get it.”

His voice is steady, but there’s a quiver that betrays him, a flicker of pain he can’t hide. You’ll never know just how much it stings. How it feels like something vital is slipping away, piece by piece. But he won’t show you that. Not now. Not when he knows you’re already carrying your own weight.

And so, he stays. Silent, distant, as you both continue to navigate the space between what you want and what you can’t have. No matter how much it hurts, he loves you. In the quietest, most agonizing way possible. And that’s enough for him, even if it will never be enough for you.

“Just…don’t leave me.” He mutters, almost like he doesn’t want to get the words out. He’s aware of the fact that he’s pushing more than he should—biting off more than he’s being given.

You gulp, biting the inside of your cheek. A silent second passes before you nod. “I’d never let you go.”

When he’s walking back home that night, the air feels more suffocating than usual. His apartment—too big for one—is cold. Walking to his bedroom, not bothering to strip himself of his clothes as he plops down onto his bed. Staring up at the ceiling with a melancholic smile. Feeling a prickle of tears hit the corners of his eyes. They don’t fall—not yet. He swallows hard, but the lump in his throat won’t budge.

He should be happy, right? At least you didn’t leave him completely. Nonetheless, the promise in your words doesn’t feel like solace; it feels like a bandage over a wound that will never fully heal. He chortles, a hollow, bitter sound that fills the emptiness of the room.

That’s probably the nicest way he could’ve been let down. For some reason, it hurts more.

Extremely more than he thought it would. Somewhere along the lines, he may have even somehow convinced himself that maybe—just maybe—things could be different. But of course, they weren’t. They never could be. The optimism in him is dying.

The silence in his apartment is deafening, and in the quiet, his mind runs wild with every memory of you, every moment that he convinced himself meant more than it did. The way your voice eased when you spoke to him, the way your eyes lingered just a little too long. He had built up those fleeting moments into something real, something that could have existed in another life, in another world. However now, reality has slammed into him with brutal force, leaving him breathless and broken.

He curls his fingers into the sheets, his chest tightening. He wants to scream, but the words stick to the back of his throat. Instead, he lets out a long, shaky breath, the weight of everything settling deeper into his bones.

Tomorrow, he will smile again. Tomorrow, he will pretend everything is okay. So tonight, in the darkness of his room, it can just be him and the stabbing pain of unrequited love.

It’s so difficult because it’s more than he can bear. Even dreaming is not an escape from you.

He lies there for what feels like hours, staring at the ceiling, the darkness of the room closing in around him. His thoughts are a whirlwind—too much, too fast, all at once. He feels like he’s drowning in them, unable to pull himself out. He shifts uncomfortably, pulling the covers tighter around his body, as if they could shield him from the cold ache in his chest. The memory of your words, of the softness in your voice, keeps echoing in his mind: “I’d never let you go.” You hadn’t meant it the way he wanted, the way he had hoped. You had meant it in the kindest way possible, but all it did was reinforce the distance between you two. You couldn’t love him. You couldn’t be with him—not the way he needed you to be.

He tries to push away the thought, but it lingers, gnawing at him. The weight of knowing that you would never truly leave him, that you’d always be there. Still, never in the way he wanted. It cuts so much deeper than he could have imagined. It’s like a constant reminder that some things just aren’t meant to be.

A soft sigh escapes his lips, and he runs a hand over his face, his fingers pressing against his eyes. He’s tired—so tired. Not physically, but emotionally. It’s exhausting, pretending. Entirely consuming it is to feel something that can never be returned the way it’s given.

He presses the back of his palm to his nose, inhaling the faint remnants of your scent. The tears finally fall, slow and quiet at first. Soon, they’re coming harder and faster. But he doesn’t make a sound. He doesn’t want anyone to hear, not like anyone would. He doesn’t want it to be known the way his heart is shattering, piece by piece, while he lies alone in the shadows of his apartment.

For a moment, he wishes you could feel this—this ache, this longing that gnaws at him until there’s nothing left but the hollowed-out shell of someone who will never truly be enough. He wishes you could understand how it feels to love someone so deeply, to want them more than anything, and yet know that your love will never be enough.

He laughs again, a bitter, empty sound, this time not hiding it. It’s a dull laugh that tastes like defeat. He wipes at his eyes, sniffling quietly, the tears continuing to fall. Then, he forces himself to take a deep breath, to stop.

He can’t let himself drown in this. Not now.

But the truth is, he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep pretending. The weight of everything—the smiles, the casual conversations, the “I’m fine” that he spits out like it’s nothing—feels too heavy now. He wonders how long you were able to tell. If you saw through the facade when you first met him, if you noticed the cracks starting to form around him immediately. Maybe he was the oblivious one.

He tells himself over and over again: you have your own life, your own love, your own future.

He rolls onto his side, facing the wall, the emptiness of his solitude swallowing him whole. Tomorrow, he thinks to himself, I’ll wake up, and I’ll be fine. He’s done this before. Pretending, masking the pain, wearing the boyish smile he knows so well. It’s easier than facing the truth, than admitting how much it hurts.

For now, in the quiet of his apartment, the only thing he can do is let the tears fall, and let himself grieve for the love he’ll never have.

However, one day…something changes in Satoru. He doesn’t even expect it. It’s subtle at first. A shift, almost imperceptible, like the first breeze of spring after a long, bitter winter. He’s standing at the edge of the room, watching as you and Suguru stand hand in hand at the altar, your eyes locked with his in a way that is nothing short of reverent. Your smile—so soft, so full of love—shines through the quiet moment as Suguru vows to stand by you, to love you through everything. Maybe it’s the way you seem so at peace with yourself while looking his best friend in the eyes at the altar, or the way you're radiantly glowing when you two have your first dance. Or the way you still regard him with the same tenderness you did from day one.

The ache grows quieter.

As you look at him, there’s a quiet contentment that blooms in Satoru’s chest. It’s not pain, not jealousy, not longing. Just peace. Something about seeing you so at ease, so sure of yourself, brings a strange sense of clarity to his heart.

He doesn’t know what it is—perhaps it’s the way you carry yourself now, with confidence, with the kind of joy that was never there before—but he feels something relieve within him. The old throbbing pain, the one that had been gnawing at him for so long, then pauses just a bit. It’s like the final breath of a storm passing, leaving behind only calm.

Later that evening, as he watches the two of you share your first dance, something settles in his chest, something he can’t quite explain. You’re glowing under the soft lights, and the way Suguru holds you so gently, his fingers pressing into the small of your back, is enough to make Satoru’s throat tighten. There’s no regret, no bitterness. Just a quiet acceptance.

He knows, deep down, that this is your moment. And he’s finally okay with that.

Satoru’s gaze drifts to you as you laugh, your head tilting back slightly as Suguru twirls you in his arms. Your eyes meet his, just for a second, and he sees it—the same look you’ve always had for him. His eyes don’t move from you one bit throughout the night, feeling something drift into the air. His shoulders feel lighter. Now, it’s just… comfort. A quiet, steady beat that comes from knowing he’s been a part of something meaningful in your life, even if it wasn’t meant to be forever.

He smiles to himself, the ghost of his old longing fading into the background. For the first time in a long time, Satoru feels like he’s no longer holding onto something that’s slipping through his fingers. The pieces have finally clicked into place. So, in that moment, he realizes something he hadn’t anticipated.

He’s free.

As the night winds down, and the last few guests start to trickle out, Satoru stays behind, quietly watching the empty dance floor. The lights are dimmed, the music faded, but the feeling of the day still lingers in the air. He knows that things have changed for him—deeply, irrevocably.

It’s not that he’s given up on love. Not at all. But something in him has shifted. It could be that his understanding is that love isn’t always about holding onto someone forever. Sometimes, it’s about letting them go—allowing them to find their happiness in their own way, even if it’s not with you.

You and Suguru have your own story now, and Satoru is finally okay with that. In fact, he’s grateful for it. Because without your happiness, without you finding peace with him, he never would have found peace with himself.

He takes a deep breath, feeling the weight of it all—of everything that’s passed, of everything that’s been said and unsaid—and it’s fine. It’s more than fine. He’s not angry. He’s not resentful. He’s content.

And that’s enough.

The days that follow are gentle. There’s no rush or no pressure. Satoru slowly moves forward with his life, embracing the little things—his work, his friendships, his quiet moments. There’s a stillness in him that wasn’t there before. The pain that had consumed him for so long doesn’t disappear completely, but it becomes more manageable. More bearable.

Of course, maybe one day, in another place, with another person, there will be a love that’s his to hold onto. But for now, he’s happy with this. He’s happy with letting go—with moving forward. Because in the end, he’s learned that love doesn’t always look the way you expect. It isn’t always a fairy tale. Sometimes, it’s just a silent acceptance, a letting go, and knowing that everything will be okay in the end.

For the first time in a long time, Satoru believes that.

Finally, he just sees you. Someone’s wife.

Satoru stands there for a moment, taking in the sight of you. The woman he once loved, now married to someone else. The years have passed, but you’re still the same in the most beautiful ways. Your smile is just as bright, and the warmth in your eyes is still the same, no matter how much time has passed.

“How are you?” he asks, his voice soft, a little hesitant. It’s been a few years since he last saw you at your wedding to Suguru. He assumed, with time, that he would somehow grow less attracted to you. Less drawn to your presence, your laughter, and the way you seem to light up the world just by being in it.

How wrong he was.

You meet his gaze, and Satoru feels that familiar flutter in his chest, something he thought had long since faded. You haven’t changed. He’s never been able to forget the way you made him feel. The truth is, he probably never will. “I’m great,” you reply wholeheartedly, your smile so genuine it catches him off guard. The apples of your cheeks rise, and he can’t help but notice how much more beautiful you’ve become. There’s a glow about you, one that comes from happiness and contentment. The familiar glint in your eyes beams brighter than he’s ever seen before. It’s the same one that once made him think maybe he could be the one to make you smile like that forever.

Prettier than any star.

“Things have been well,” you continue, a slight tilt of your head as you study him. “How are you?”

Satoru swallows, his heart hammering in his chest, but he smiles. He’s not sure why it still affects him this way. Maybe it’s because he knows you’re happy, and that should be enough for him. But hearing you speak with that warmth, that sweetness, it still stirs something deep within him. “I’m good,” he says, his voice steady despite the chaos of emotions swirling inside him. He wants to tell you everything he wasn’t able to before—how much he’s missed you, how much he’s struggled to let go, how he’s still a little haunted by your absence. But he can’t. You’re someone else’s now. His best friend’s. And he can’t take that from you. He doesn’t want to, either.

“Life’s… busy,” he adds, trying to change the subject, but he knows the words are empty. He’s never been able to lie to you. You always see through it.

You nod, as if understanding more than he’s said. The silence between you stretches, but it’s not awkward. It’s familiar in a way that brings him a strange sense of comfort. You’ve both come so far, yet here you are, still standing before him.

Satoru wants to say something—anything—that will make this moment last. Yet, he knows better now. He knows that some things are meant to pass, to be remembered only as bittersweet memories. “I’m happy for you,” he finally says, his voice quieter than before. His eyes meet yours, searching for any sign that maybe, just maybe, you might feel something too.

And there it is. A flicker. A brief, imperceptible flicker in your eyes. You’re still the same woman he once knew, the one who captured his heart and never quite let it go.

He doesn’t need to hear you say it. He can see it in the way you look at him. You’ve both changed, in ways that neither of you could have predicted. Really, that’s okay. You’re happy, and that’s all that matters.

“I’m glad to see you doing well, Satoru,” you say with that same warm smile. “Take care of yourself, okay?” The weight of the unspoken words lingers between you, yet it’s not painful. Not anymore. Satoru nods, his own smile genuine, even if it’s laced with sadness. He doesn’t need to hold onto the past anymore. You’ve found your place in the world, and he’s finally at peace with that.

“I will,” he says quietly. “You too.”

Staying in your presence feels nice, no words having to be spoken when your actions do it all. Fleeting looks, warm smiles, hushed chuckles. He can’t stop his body from reciprocating. Every time your fingers brush against his by accident, a jolt of electricity runs through him. When your voice dances in the air, light and carefree, it takes every ounce of control he has not to reach out and pull you closer into a hug. Your presence is a kind of calm he didn’t know he needed, a peace he’s been missing, even after all these years.

He’s missed you. That’s okay to admit, right?

“Are you with someone now, Satoru?” You ask, sipping your coffee with an innocent eyebrow raise.

He shakes you off with a chuckle. “Nah, no one. I’m a lone wolf, remember?”

Playfully, you roll your eyes. “Right. Well, every lone wolf needs his mate, doesn’t he?”

“Please don’t use ABO logic on me.”

You kick his shin under the table and he dramatically responds with a frown. Looking at him from the large window that displays the warm morning of Saturday. Speaking with such integrity that it’s hard not to believe you. “I’m serious, Satoru. When it happens, I want to be there for you. Your soulmate is just walking around everyday life waiting for you, I look forward to you finally getting to experience that.”

His heart melts, smirk softening into genuineness. He can’t find it in him to say how wrong you probably are, to crush your dreams of him finding his one true love one day. How could he? You just want what’s best for him, and that’s why he loves you so much.

“Soulmate…” he repeats to himself lowly, watching you laugh gingerly before looking back out at the window. His eyes glance down at his left pinky finger, flexing it.

Red string of fate.

He can imagine the circle around his pinky, red and bright with intensity; glowing like a beacon of everything he’s always wanted and dreamed for. He looks back up at you, your side profile so perfectly structured in the warm light. The way your features align effortlessly like they were meant to be there. He can’t help the crinkle of his eyes when his smile grows wider and more genuine. The time he spent longing for you, it all seems to fade away when he looks at you like this. He lightly jerks his hand.

And for a brief, suspended moment, he catches the sight of your left pinky twitching, being tugged just barely in his direction before you adjust your grip on your coffee.

He follows your gaze, hiding a snicker behind the rim of his cup.

Yeah, she is just walking around, isn’t she?

a/n: hiiiii! i really hoped you guys enjoyed this, while writing this i didn't feel very confident and I still sort of don't, but I really hope it satisfies u all <3 as I said b4 thank you so much for 1k followers, I didn't expect this to happen lollolol but your support has been so appreciated. with this new year, I hope to put out more works, and I hope u all stay along for the ride. have a great day!!!! love and kisses

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7seas-of-ryy · 3 days ago

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Crestfallen - Part 2

Author’s Note: I hope everyone has a great New Years!!

Overall Summary: Although you were born in the Day Court, you've been living in the Night Court for a century. You're close with the inner circle but what will happen when a new healer is brought into the picture?

Part 2 Summary: Gaslighting and harming patients is not what a healer is supposed to do!

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: talks of injuries

Waking up, your entire body felt like it was on fire. You couldn't remember what happened so you did what Az and Cass had trained you to do. Taking a deep breath, you assessed your surroundings. You were laying in someone's room, Azriel's room. That's a relief. One other thing you notice was you were naked and wrapped in ice cold, wet rags.

Hearing footsteps approaching, you closed your eyes and pretended to be asleep still.

"Azzy, you don't have to have her sleep in your bed. I can keep her down in the recovery room of my shop." Clara's sickly sweet voice broke the silence.

Azzy?? She has a nickname for him? She's barely known him. All these thoughts kept running through your head while you waited for his response.

"No, she's staying here. It's the least I can do for her. I should've checked on her sooner, I was just so caught up in my work that I didn't realize no one had seen or heard from her for two days." Azriel responded.

"Stop beating yourself up. She's a big girl and can handle herself. Plus, you're such an important piece in the Night Court, you don't need to be worrying so much about her." She told him.

Before she could keep going, you made it known you were awake by softly clearing your throat.

Az ran to your side and kneeled down next to you, grabbing your hand.

"You're awake! I was so worried. You've had a terrible fever so Clara wrapped you in these rags to cool you down. That cut on your back looked really bad too, why didn't you let Clara help you the other night?" Azriel spoke softly to you, and by the looks of it he hadn't been sleeping much.

"What? Clara told me-" You choked out but your throat felt so dry it was hard to talk.

"Don't you remember? I offered you the salve and wrap for your cut, told you it looked infected? You told me you just wanted to sleep it off. I didn't think that would be good but I can't force anyone to get better especially if they don't want to." She talked down to you like you were a child.

You felt like you were going crazy. Maybe Clara was right, maybe in your exhaustion you refused help and ended up getting worse. But you could've sworn she told you everything was fine.

"Water." it was all you could choke out.

"I'll get it for you." Clara offered but you didn't trust her. Especially with your mind as foggy as it was right now.

"No!" You shouted, well tried to shout.

"Ok, ok, calm down. I can get it for you, would that be ok?" Azriel asked as he gently pushed the hair out of your face.

You nodded your head and he got up to get it for you. Once he was gone, Clara started fumbling around in her bag and pulled out a powder.

She walked over to you, opening the substance and put a little bit of it in the cap.

"Wha-?" You started to say as she blew the capful of powder straight into your face.

The most intense pain took over your body. It was like your flesh was being torn from your bones. Your body writhed in agony and you were screaming out in pain. The shadowsinger came running in the room straight to you.

"What happened? Help her!" His voice was booming.

"I don't know, she was fine then all of the sudden this happened. I think I have something that can fix her!" She sounded panicked and worried for you.

Pulled a liquid out of her bag, she looked pained towards Az like she didn't want to give it to you.

"What're you doing? Hurry!!" He shouted.

"This is going to hurt her a lot, I need you to hold her down." Clara told Az.

He quickly grabbed his belt off and slipped it in your mouth so you could bite down on it and held your arms down.

"I'm so sorry," He whispered to you, "She's gonna help you, it'll be over soon."

Clara grabbed a dagger and cut down your side. She grabbed the liquid and dropped it into the cut. However bad you thought the pain was, was nothing compared to this. You thought you were going to die, the last thing you saw was Azriel' hazel eyes before passing out once again.

"She needs some time for that to kick in. Her cut must've been worse than I thought. I needed to treat the infection, the liquid I poured into the cut will do that and it will work faster the way I did it." Clara told the spymaster, walking over to him and rubbing his shoulders.

----

The next time you woke up, Az was sitting on the ground with his back against the bed. You didn't see Clara anywhere so relief instantly flooded your mind.

Sensing the change in your breathing, Azriel's head shot up and he stood up to see you.

"Hey, how are you doing?" He whispered.

"Where's Clara?" You asked, partly out of fear.

"Why? Do you need her? I can call for her-" He started

"NO" You immediately shut him down, "Please keep her away from me. I'm sick because of her!"

Azriel looked at you as if you grew a second head.

"You have to listen to me. She has been horrible to me since the second she met me..." You were pleading with him.

"Stop." He whispered but you kept going, speaking over him.

"She didn't even assess me the other night, which is why my cut is infected and then she blew some powder in my face which caused everything earlier. She is purposefully making me sick." You were rambling, trying to get him to understand.

"Enough." Azriel spoke in a stern voice, "Listen, I don't know if it's because of everything you're going through but Clara is the only reason you aren't in agony right now. You cannot pin something like this on her. She has been very essential these past 2 weeks and she is extremely kind. There is no way she could possibly do something like that."

Those words were like a punch to your gut. How could he not believe you? You've been best friends for over 75 years, known each other for a century. This is the male that you were in love with, siding with Clara.

"You don't believe me." You whispered, feeling a tear slide down your cheek.

"I'm not saying that. I'm saying you had a long, tough first solo mission and I think it's taking it's toll on you. Your mind might be playing tricks." He tried to make it better but the look he gave you was full of pity.

"Please leave now." You mumbled and turned your head away from him.

Without saying another word, you felt his shadows settle over you and as quick as they were there, they left along with their master.

------

A few days have past now with you showing no signs of improvement. You haven't gotten worse but you definitely haven't gotten better.

Mor and Nesta visited you quite a bit, Nesta even read to you every night. You asked Rhys to have Azriel stay away and even though he thought that would be counterproductive, he respected your wishes.

For 75 years, you have been in love with the Spymaster. Of course, you never told him out of fear of rejection but also because you knew he would never feel the same and it would ruin your friendship. You knew the feelings were unrequited when he didn't believe you about Clara.

It felt deeper than him not believing you, in a way it felt as if he chose her over you and that hurt far worse than any of the physical pain you went through.

As you were deep in thought, Nesta and Mor both came into your room. Well, Azriel's room. You were still too weak to move anywhere else.

"Hey, you're awake!" Mor greeted you with a smile.

"I brought a new book for us to start, if you are up for it." Nesta added.

She was always kind to you because you were there for her with everything she went through. Nesta was grateful for your unrelenting friendship and you were happy to have her as a friend.

Right as you were about to respond to Nesta, you felt the cut on your back heating up. Searing pain started shooting through your body and you thought you saw tendrils of light swirling around you. Confused and in agony, you threw your head back.

"Get Clara." Mor told Nesta as she tried to help you.

You were too weak to tell her no, the light seemed to be getting brighter. A high pitched squeal was getting louder. Suddenly, your body was being lifted in the air by the beams of light but it was as if you were paralyzed.

Clara winnowed into the room, her eyes going wide as she witnessed what was happening to you.

The noise was so loud that Nesta, Mor, and Clara were all covering their ears. Your body was convulsing, the light becoming so bright you thought you were going to explode.

"DO SOMETHING!" Mor screamed over all of the noise.

The fear in Clara's eyes was evident and she stood there not moving.

"..uh...I...I didn't do this one! I don't know how to fix it! I'll see if Madja is close by." She stated and winnowed away.

Nesta's head snapped to Clara but she was already gone. Mor ran to you but there was nothing she could do. Rhys, Azriel, and Cassian all ran into the room to see what was happening but there was nothing they could do either.

"What happened?!" Az shouted but no one responded.

A few moments passed before Clara winnowed back into the room, this time with Madja, who calmly made her way to you and hovered her hands over your form. She started mumbling some words and your body slowly laid back down on the bed.

The beams of light slowly went away and you weren't screaming in pain anymore.

"All of you. Out now. I need space to work. You need to go too, Clara." Madja spoke without looking up, "Except you, High Lord, I might need you."

Cassian, Mor, Clara, and Nesta started to get out and Azriel stayed, he couldn't leave you. Cassian grabbed him and forced him out as they all made their way down to the living area.

They all stood worrying about you, the Spymaster's shadows swirling like mad when Nesta broke the silence.

"Hey Clara...what did you mean when you said "You didn't do this one" earlier?" She spoke, her eyes narrowing on the female.

Taglist

@rcarbo1 @acourtofbatboydreams @bravo-delta-eccho

#acotar #acotar imagine #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel shadowsinger #azriel imagine #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #azriel x reader #a court of thorns and roses #azriel angst

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kyri45 · 4 hours ago

Note

I've always kinda kept my observations about the things I read to myself because I get worried I interpret things wrong. But with the last few updates of the bio parents au, I keep thinking the same thing over and over and I gotta compliment you for it even if I'm wrong.

I love how you haven't undone the care and love that Tang and Pigsy gave MK to raise him to uplift and make Wukong and Mac look better. Even if we see them less then shadowpeach (which is understandable the AU is about them and MK, that isn't a critique at all), every time they've shown up you can just feel how much they love their son. Like I said, I know the AU is focused on Wukong Mac and MK, but the way you've made every interaction outside those three feel so deep and with history is super cool and I love it a lot. It shows how much thought you've put into everything and also how much you've thought about these characters, or at least how well you know them if not.

I hope this ask isn't too long, and I hope you have a great new year with lots more art, fun creativity, and lots of love.

Awww tysm!!

Being sure that it was clear that Pigsy and Tang are the "main" parents let's say was one of the most important things for me when making the comic (late nights only thinking about this)

And also that, even though we love the father-son dynamics MK and Wukong had in the show, they are nothing compared to the fact that Pigsy raised him since he was a kid.

The whole comic timeline is across 6 months, and only like, 3 hours ago MK called them Baba and Mama for the first time. I really wanted to be a "slow burn" for the father/son relationship because... it's a relationship still. It needs time, patience, ups and down, knowing each others, trust.

#ask box #shadowpeach bio parents au

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kiwriteswords · 1 day ago

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Maybe some already together hotch and reader parenting Jack?

Heartstrings Attached [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 3k|| AN: this was fun and really nothing like I have written before! I was re-watching The Nanny pilot where Maggie has her first kiss and Mr. Sheffield's reaction made me wonder how Hotch would react to Jack dating!

Tags/Warnings: established relationship, family vibes, mentions of Haley's death, Teenage Jack Hotchner, Jack's first kiss, Jack's first crush, Jack's first heartbreak, Sad Hotch Hours, Missing Haley Hotchner Hours, hurt/comfort, Jack preferring Reader over Hotch, angsty Jack, No mention of if Reader is BAU or not, future fic, fluffy fluff fluff

Summary: Navigating parenthood is hard enough, but add in teenage love and angst, and Hotch was in for it--grateful to have you at his side, he struggles when Jack prefers your comfort to his own.

In the Hotchner household, evenings typically unfolded with a quiet kind of routine, the kind that comes with the stability of an established relationship and shared space. But tonight, as Aaron Hotchner watched Jack, now a teenager taller than himself, pacing back and forth in your living room, he sensed a disruption to your usual peace.

Jack had always been an anxious kid--much of that hung on Aaron’s shoulders, from all that his job took from and brought into Jack’s life.

"You seem... preoccupied," Aaron remarked, his voice calm as he set aside the case file he'd been reading. Jack stopped pacing and glanced at his father, then at you, who were curled up on the other end of the couch with a book in hand.

"It's nothing," Jack muttered, clearly wrestling with whether to share more. You looked over at Aaron, giving him a subtle nod, an unspoken signal between the two of you that said, 'Give him a minute.'

After a brief pause, Jack sighed and turned towards you, his expression torn between embarrassment and the trust he'd come to place in you over the years. "Actually, I... there's this girl at school."

You set your book down, your full attention on Jack. "Oh? What about her?" you asked gently.

Jack blushed, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he mumbled, "I kinda like her. A lot. And I think she might like me too, but I don’t know what to do about it."

Aaron observed the exchange, feeling a twinge of something unfamiliar. Jealousy? No, it was more akin to inadequacy. Here was his son, coming to you with matters he was too embarrassed to discuss with his own father. But watching the ease with which Jack confided in you softened any hard feelings; if anything, it filled him with gratitude.

"What do you like about her?" you inquired, your voice laced with interest and devoid of any judgment.

"She's funny, and she likes a lot of the stuff I do. And she’s really smart," Jack explained, his eyes lighting up as he spoke.

"That sounds wonderful, Jack," you responded, smiling encouragingly. "Have you guys talked much?"

"Yeah, at lunch and stuff. I just... don't know if I should tell her how I feel, or even how to do that," Jack confessed, looking towards his father now.

Aaron cleared his throat, feeling suddenly on the spot. "Well, Jack, the truth is, being honest about your feelings is usually the best approach. It’s not easy, but it’s straightforward. Just... be yourself," Aaron advised, trying to recall how he’d navigated his own youthful crushes, which felt like a lifetime ago.

"You think I should just tell her?" Jack asked, his tone a mix of hope and nerves.

"I do," Aaron said, nodding. "But maybe you could start by asking her to hang out, just the two of you. See how it goes from there."

Jack considered this for a moment, then turned to you. "What do you think?"

"I agree with your dad," you said, your gaze soft yet earnest. "And whatever happens, we're here for you. It's okay to be nervous, and it's okay if things don't go exactly how you plan. What's important is that you're honest and respectful."

Jack nodded, taking in the advice from both of you. "Thanks," he said, a genuine smile breaking through his earlier anxious demeanor. "I think I’ll ask her to the movies this weekend."

"That sounds like a great idea," you encouraged, and Aaron couldn’t help but smile at the warm, supportive dynamic that had blossomed between you and Jack. It wasn’t the traditional picture of a family, perhaps, but it was yours, and it was filled with love and understanding.

Later that evening, as Jack headed upstairs, Aaron lingered behind with you, his expression thoughtful. "Thank you," he murmured, reaching for your hand. "For being here, for being you. For making things like this easier for him... and for me."

You squeezed his hand, leaning into him slightly. "We’re a team, Aaron. And I love being a part of this family."

He nodded, the weight of his earlier feelings of inadequacy lifting in the comfort of your presence. In this household, amidst the quiet routines and the occasional teenage turmoil, Aaron found not just solace but a deep, enduring partnership. And as he looked at you, he knew with certainty that together, there was nothing you couldn't handle.

Aaron Hotchner watched his son, Jack, meticulously adjust his collar for the third time in the mirror. The teenager's movements were stiff, each motion betraying a level of tension that Aaron knew all too well—it was a mirror to his own.

"You look great, Jack. She's going to think so, too," Aaron commented, attempting a reassuring tone as he leaned against the doorway of Jack’s room.

Jack met his father's gaze in the mirror, his eyes flashing briefly with a familiar intensity. "What if I don’t even know what to say? What if—"

"Jack," Aaron interjected, a bit more sharply than intended, "you've prepared enough. Overthinking it won't help."

The words were meant to steady, but they landed like a challenge. Jack turned abruptly, his expression hardening. "You don’t understand. It’s easy for you to say—"

Aaron felt a prickle of irritation. "Jack, I’m trying to help you. There’s no reason to—"

"Yeah, by telling me I’m overthinking? Thanks a lot," Jack snapped, his tone biting, and stormed past Aaron towards the stairs.

You appeared at the bottom of the staircase, having caught the tail end of the exchange. Your expression was one of concern mixed with calm. "Everything okay?" you asked, looking from Jack’s retreating back to Aaron’s tight expression.

Aaron sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "He’s just nervous," he muttered, following you and Jack to the car.

The ride to the movie theater was tense, the air thick with unspoken apologies and frustrations. Aaron drove, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly, while you sat beside him, offering a gentle presence. In the backseat, Jack was silent, lost in his own whirlwind of teenage angst.

When you arrived at the theater, Jack unbuckled his seatbelt and paused, his hand on the door. He seemed to struggle with himself for a moment before turning slightly. "Sorry for snapping, Dad. I’m just... really nervous."

Aaron nodded, a mixture of relief and concern in his eyes. "It’s okay, Jack. Just be yourself, she’ll see how great you are."

Jack managed a small, grateful smile before stepping out of the car and into the evening crowd. As he walked away, Aaron watched him go, a pang of helplessness touching his heart. It wasn’t just about tonight; it was the creeping realization of how much he would have to learn to navigate as Jack grew up.

You reached over, touching Aaron’s arm. "He’s going to be fine," you murmured. "And so are you."

Aaron let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. "It never gets easier, does it? Letting them face things on their own."

You shook your head, your smile gentle. "No, but we do get better at trusting them to handle it. And Jack knows he has us to come back to, no matter how it goes."

Aaron glanced at you, the steady assurance in your voice grounding him. "I don’t know what I’d do without you," he admitted, the weight of his role as a single parent momentarily overwhelming.

"You’d do just fine," you assured him, squeezing his arm. "But you don’t have to. We’re in this together, remember?"

He smiled then, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. "Together," he echoed, feeling the truth of that word deep in his bones.

As you and Aaron drove back home, the earlier tension melted away, replaced by a comfortable silence that spoke of shared burdens and joint victories. In that moment, Aaron knew that whatever challenges lay ahead with Jack, or with anything else, they were surmountable—as long as you were there beside him.

When Aaron and you arrived at the theater to pick up Jack, the sight of him waiting by the curb instantly signaled a change. There was a lightness in his step, a barely contained energy that was unusual for the typically composed teenager.

Jack slid into the backseat, a faint, almost secretive smile playing at the corners of his lips. He said nothing as Aaron pulled away from the curb, glancing occasionally in the rearview mirror at his son. Jack’s eyes were bright, his usual tension nowhere to be seen, replaced by an excited glimmer that Aaron had rarely witnessed.

The car was quiet, the silence stretching as Aaron and you exchanged knowing looks. Both of you could sense the bubbling enthusiasm Jack was struggling to contain, yet neither of you wanted to press him, giving him the space to share in his own time.

Finally, unable to bear the suspense any longer and always more attuned to breaking the ice, you turned slightly in your seat to face Jack. “So? How was the movie?” you asked, your voice casual but tinged with an undercurrent of excitement for him.

Jack’s response was immediate, his words tumbling out in a rush. “It was awesome! We...” He paused, a flush spreading across his cheeks, and then he burst out with it. “We kissed! It was my first kiss.”

Aaron’s eyes met Jack’s in the rearview mirror, a smile breaking across his face at his son's joyous exclamation. The car filled with a warm, buoyant energy, the kind that comes from witnessing a milestone in someone you love dearly.

“That’s great, Jack!” you exclaimed, your delight evident. “How do you feel?”

Jack laughed, a sound of pure happiness. “I like her so much. She’s amazing. And the kiss was... it was perfect, I think. I mean, I don’t really have anything to compare it to, but...” His voice trailed off, and he shrugged, almost sheepishly.

Aaron listened, his heart swelling with a mix of pride and a poignant touch of sadness at the reminders of his own first experiences with love. “It sounds like you had a really good time,” he said, his tone supportive. “I’m happy for you, Jack.”

“Thanks, Dad. And thank you,” Jack added, looking at you. “For the advice and... just for being there.”

You nodded, your expression soft. “Anytime, Jack. We’re both so happy it went well.”

The rest of the drive home was filled with Jack sharing more details about the evening—the movie they’d barely watched, the nervous moments leading up to the kiss, and his plans to see her again. Aaron drove, listening and occasionally glancing back at Jack, who seemed to grow with each word he spoke.

When you all arrived home, Jack bounded out of the car with a quick, “Thanks for the ride!” before heading inside, no doubt eager to relive the evening in his mind.

Aaron turned to you, his eyes reflecting a complex mix of emotions. “He’s growing up fast,” he murmured, the reality hitting him anew.

You reached over, taking his hand. “He is. But he’s growing up well, Aaron. That’s all we can ask for.”

Aaron squeezed your hand in response, the solidity of your presence grounding him. “Yes, that’s all we can ask for,” he agreed, the pride evident in his voice. As you headed into the house together, Aaron felt a profound gratitude for the family you had become, imperfections and all, bound together by moments of simple, shared joy like tonight.

Over dinner, Jack's enthusiasm was infectious. As he detailed his plans to woo his new crush with flowers and romantic gestures straight out of the movies, Aaron couldn't help but share amused, knowing glances with you across the table. Every so often, Jack would catch them mid-glance and roll his eyes, a grin unable to hide his embarrassment.

"You think I'm being too cheesy, don't you?" Jack asked a playful accusation in his tone.

"Not at all," you replied, smiling warmly at him. "It's sweet. It's nice to see someone still believes in doing romantic things. Flowers are always a good idea."

Aaron nodded in agreement, watching as Jack considered your advice. "Just make sure you pick ones she likes," he added. "It shows you pay attention."

Jack nodded enthusiastically, absorbing every piece of advice like a sponge. "I’ll find out what her favorites are," he resolved.

The conversation lingered on lighter topics as you finished eating, but the warmth of family and shared understanding lingered in the air.

Later that night, as Aaron and you were getting ready for bed, the atmosphere shifted to a quieter, more reflective mood. You turned to Aaron as he was folding his clothes, a soft smile playing on your lips. "You know, Jack is a lot like you," you mused. "Even as a teenager, he’s got your sweetness. And he gets this giddy excitement about someone he cares about—just like you."

Aaron met your gaze in the mirror, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Was I that obvious?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Completely," you teased gently, stepping closer. "I still remember our early days. Despite your stoic exterior, you had this way of showing your excitement that was... really endearing."

He turned to face you fully, his expression softening. "I guess some things don’t change," he admitted, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "I still feel that way, you know. Every day with you."

Your eyes lit up at his words, and you leaned into his touch. "And I love that about you, Aaron. It’s the little things you do, the way you show you care. It’s never lost on me."

The conversation lingered in the air, settling warmly around them like a blanket. It reminded Aaron of how much he still wanted to make you feel special, how even the simplest gestures could speak volumes.

"Jack gave me a good reminder; I think I’ll buy you flowers tomorrow," Aaron declared softly, more to himself than to you.

You chuckled softly, your eyes twinkling with affection. "I’d like that," you said.

As you finished getting ready for bed, the connection between them felt as fresh and exciting as it did in the early days of your relationship, a testament to the enduring nature of deep, genuine love.

It wasn’t long until the atmosphere of the Hotchner household shifted dramatically one afternoon when Jack burst through the front door, his usual calm demeanor replaced by a storm of teenage angst. He rushed past Aaron and you, not stopping to greet or even acknowledge either of you, his footsteps thundering up the stairs. Moments later, his bedroom door slammed shut with a force that echoed down the hallway.

You and Aaron exchanged a look of concern, both sensing the gravity of whatever had upset Jack so deeply. Aaron's jaw set in a familiar, determined line as he made his way to Jack's room, knocking softly despite the previous display of anger.

"Jack, can we talk?" Aaron called through the door, his voice calm but firm.

There was a tense pause, then a muffled, "Go away," from inside.

Aaron opened the door anyway, stepping into Jack’s room to find him sitting on the edge of his bed, his face buried in his hands. "Jack, whatever it is, I’m here to help," Aaron offered, trying to bridge the gap with understanding.

Jack looked up, his eyes red and his expression one of raw, unguarded pain. "You wouldn’t understand," he snapped, his words laced with frustration. "You met Mom in school and then found Y/N so easily after Mom passed. You’ve never had your heart broken like this."

The comment stung, bringing with it a flood of memories—of Haley, of loss, of the deepest kind of heartbreak Aaron had ever known. But he had to laugh internally at the irony; Jack had no idea what real heartbreak was, yet his feelings were valid in their own teenage context.

"Jack, I may not understand exactly what you're feeling right now, but I’ve experienced loss, more than just once. I can try to help," Aaron said, his voice even despite the emotional undercurrent.

Aaron looked around his son’s room--oh, how it had changed so much over the last few years. The legos and drawings now replaced with soccer trophies and posters.

"It’s not the same!" Jack retorted, his anger flaring again. "You don’t get it. She said she just wants to be friends, after everything... after the kiss. I thought... I don’t know what I thought."

Aaron sat down beside him, trying to close the distance. "It’s tough, feeling like you’ve been pushed aside," he offered. "But it doesn’t diminish what you felt, or what you meant to each other."

Jack shook his head, the rejection too fresh, too raw. "Just leave, Dad. Please," he murmured, not meeting Aaron's eyes.

Respecting his son’s request, Aaron stood and left the room, the door closing softly behind him this time. He returned downstairs, where you were waiting, having sensed that the conversation might not have gone smoothly.

Aaron relayed the interaction to you, his features tight with concern and helplessness. "He’s really hurting," Aaron confessed, the weight of his role as a father feeling particularly heavy.

You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him. "You did what you could. He just needs some time," you reassured him, your voice soothing. "Heartbreak is a part of growing up, as hard as it is to watch. He'll learn from this, with us to support him."

Aaron nodded, leaning into your embrace, grateful for your presence and perspective. "It’s just hard, seeing him go through it," he admitted. "Makes me wish I could shield him from all the pain."

"But then he wouldn’t really grow, would he?" you pointed out gently. "All we can do is be here when he’s ready to talk, ready to heal."

"Right," Aaron agreed, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "Thank you," he added, the gratitude in his voice reflecting more than just thanks for this moment—it was for every moment you stood by him, helping him navigate the complexities of fatherhood and life itself. Together, you would be ready for when Jack decided to open up, ready to guide him through the pain toward healing.

Later that evening, as Aaron sat in the living room thumbing through an old case file, he couldn't shake the image of Jack’s hurt expression. He was roused from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps descending the stairs. Looking up, he saw Jack hesitating at the foot of the staircase, his eyes darting between Aaron and the hallway where you were.

"Dad, can I talk to Y/N?" Jack asked quietly, his voice revealing his vulnerability.

Aaron felt a pang in his chest, torn between relief that Jack was seeking comfort and a sting of jealousy that it wasn’t from him. He thought of Haley, of how things might have been different if she were here, but then he looked at you, emerging from the hallway behind Jack, and his heart filled with gratitude. You had become an integral part of their lives, filling spaces he hadn't known were empty.

"Of course, Jack," Aaron replied, managing a supportive smile as he watched you approach, your presence reassuring and steady.

You gave Aaron a gentle look that seemed to understand his mixed emotions before turning your attention to Jack. "Let’s talk, okay?" you said softly, guiding Jack back to his room for privacy.

Left alone with his thoughts, Aaron reflected on his journey—the loss of Haley, the challenges of single parenthood, and the unexpected blessing of finding love again with you. It was a complex tapestry of grief and new beginnings.

When you and Jack reappeared a while later, there was a noticeable shift in Jack’s demeanor. He seemed calmer, more composed, and he walked straight up to Aaron.

"I’m sorry for pushing you away earlier, Dad. I didn’t mean to," Jack apologized, his eyes earnest.

Aaron stood, setting aside the file, and pulled Jack into a hug. "It’s okay, Jack. I understand. It’s not easy, and I’m here whenever you need to talk, okay?"

Jack nodded, returning the embrace. "Thanks, Dad."

As they settled onto the couch, Aaron next to you and Jack opposite, the atmosphere was lighter. Aaron felt the need to address the earlier tension and offer some fatherly advice.

"Jack, life... it throws a lot at us. Heartbreak, loss—it’s all part of it. But so is happiness and love," Aaron began, his eyes flicking to you, then back to Jack. "You have plenty of time to find your happy ending. And sometimes, it happens when you least expect it."

He reached over, taking your hand in his, a silent testament to his words.

Jack smiled, a touch of red coloring his cheeks as he understood the implication. "I guess you’re right. I’ve got time."

"And remember, no matter what, you’re never alone," you added, squeezing Aaron’s hand. "We’re both here for you, always."

The rest of the evening passed with a new sense of understanding and closeness among you all. Aaron felt a deep sense of peace as he looked at you and Jack--his family. At this moment, he knew that despite the trials and the losses, you had found a way to build something enduring and real. And for Aaron, you were indeed his happy ending, the unexpected joy that had come from a time of great loss.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016 @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry

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lieslab · 3 days ago

Text

Call your mom

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Felix X gn reader

Summary: Your best friend finds you teetering on the edge of suicide in the middle of the night.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 2.2K

Suicide and depression resources

Trigger warning: Suicide, depression, self-hatred, brief mentions of pills, guns, self-harm, hanging, fear of life after death, and fear of being alone.

A/N: It's the first day of 2025 and if you're struggling with thoughts like these, please stay alive. I had a weird urge to drop this which means, at least, one of you is struggling right now. Please pick up the phone and call someone. Stay alive. I know it seems so hard when you're drowning, but you really have no idea what good things are waiting for you. They will find you, I promise <3

_ _ _

At midnight, Felix’s eyes shot wide open without a reason or why. He had just been asleep and yet, as he laid with his cheek pressed against the warmth of his pillow, there wasn’t the usual sleepy haze. It was almost as if he just opened his eyes and hadn’t been sleeping for the past few hours.

He laid there trying to figure out the reason for it, but none came. The steady sound of his breathing filled the room and he glanced over. The full moon was out tonight and she was watching over everyone, at least, that’s what he thought.

He didn’t know why your face appeared in his head. Somewhere deep in the subconscious realm and far from his understanding, something tugged on him. It ushered him to go and it forced him out of bed. In the darkness, almost like a shadow savior, he slipped on his slippers and rushed out of his room.

It was the one thing he actually liked about your shared apartment building. Your apartment was just down the hall. All he had to do was leave his unit, turn left, walk straight, and turn left again. The path was so familiar that he could do it in his sleep.

He tugged the wooden door shut behind him and didn’t bother locking it. He jerked on the oversized hoodie and rounded the corner, that’s when he saw you. The look on your face, it was one he’d never seen before.

The length of the hallway was barren at this time of night. Lights were secured above your head and dimmed down for the evening. The dimness couldn’t hide the tears pouring down your cheeks.

You couldn’t breathe with your thoughts piling up again. You’d been here before, but this time was different. This time, you were sure if you stepped foot in your apartment building, you wouldn’t come back out alive.

So you paced over and over and over again. Stuck between the urge in giving it all up and trying to find the strength to continue. Living was hard and it was even worse when your own brain hated you.

How much longer could you last? Too stuck in your head, you stamped yourself as a burden. You cut holes in your own heart and let yourself drown in your own hurt. Blood stained your hands and it was always all your fault.

A lump sat in your throat and the tears wouldn’t stop dripping. You wanted to keep going. You wanted to try again. You wanted to bite down on that small sliver of hope and cling to it, but you were also tired. This self-destructive cycle led to nowhere. You were tearing your mental sanity to shreds and your muscles were quivering from trying to keep your head held up one more day.

Just one more day. Just one more try. Just a little more. Another step. Another meal. Another memory creeping back from the depths of your mind and rerunning. Your brain was on fire and screaming.

Torn between letting go and staying here, you were breaking down. The oil in your machine ran out months ago. Every step weighed a thousand pounds. Your bones creaked and your soul ached. You longed for inner peace, but it never showed up.

Your dreams were dead. Your brain stamped them out weeks ago. You deemed yourself the family failure. The unlovable one. The kind of person that people steered themselves clear from because you were just too much.

The weight of your thoughts was breaking your back. Your brain screamed at you to stay, but you couldn’t find peace in sleep anymore. Where people found joy in the rainbows and sunshine, you couldn’t find that anymore either. You ran out of love to give a long time ago.

Wouldn’t it just be better to give up? To finally rest. To go to sleep. Swallow pills. Pull a trigger. Slice the vein. Step off the stool and let your windpipe close forever. The hurt was temporary and god, it’d hurt, but the peace afterwards…

You didn’t know what came after this. Maybe it really was heaven or hell. Maybe the rumors were true and you’d burn for eternity for killing yourself. Maybe you’d wake up in another life and in the arms of a new mother. Shiny eyes of another father would be cast upon you.

Or maybe it’d just be nothing. An eternal darkness and no matter what happened or where you went, it’d just be black. You’d cease to exist. You’d have all this and then nothing ever again.

You didn’t hear Felix the first time that he called your name, but you felt him. You smelled the familiar scent of minty toothpaste and eucalyptus. Your teary eyes reached up to find his and his heart shattered.

He cupped your cheeks and his heart squeezed with terror. “What’s wrong?” He whispered as he wiped away your tears.

You tried to speak, but your words turned into a whimper that got stuck in the back of your throat. How were you supposed to tell your best friend that you wanted to end everything? How were you supposed to tell them that you were so tired, you wanted to go? It was time for you to go.

Maybe it was selfish to not think about the hurt you’d cause him, or maybe it was selfish for him not to see the hurt that harbored in your heart. Would he ask you to stay if he knew you were drowning inside yourself? The darkness swallowed you whole and no matter how much you tried to swim to the surface, you never made it.

Did he know this was the last time he’d see your defeated face? Would he remember the bags smeared beneath your eyes? Would he know that your eyes would close soon and they’d never reopen? The next time he’d see you, if he was lucky, you’d be clutching your own cold corpse in the cramped casket.

His freckles were like constellations and if you were lucky, maybe you’d land upon the stars. Maybe the weight of everything would cease to exist and the lack of gravity, from wherever you landed, would make you float. The warmth of those brown eyes was home. Wherever you ended up, you wanted to feel that similar warmth.

“Talk to me,” he pleaded softly. “What’s wrong?”

Your bottom lip quivered. Why did he have to find you at this time? You tried to keep him out of the convoluted mess of your head and heart and yet, here he was. He stood in front of you like the savior you’d been praying for, but now it was too late.

The flip in your head was made. It was time for you to go. This world wasn’t meant for someone like you. You opted to roll the dice, spin the wheel, and pull the slots. You’d take your chances in the next life.

“Nothing,” you hoarsely uttered. “I’m just having one of those nights, you know?”

You were way too calm about this. He watched how frantic you were when he first rounded the corner. Your eyes looked around desperately, like you were searching for something that wasn’t there.

“Why are you lying to me?”

His voice was a sweet honey and you desperately wanted to free fall. You wanted to melt into the floor and never exist again. You couldn’t stay near Felix for too long. He’d give you another reason to stay.

“I-I should go to bed. You’re in your pajamas, you should go get some sleep.”

His head shook and his messy blonde hair shook with his head. “No way. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me exactly what’s going on with you.”

Your mouth opened, but words didn’t come out. How were you to truly explain this weight in your heart? How could you bare the shell of this body? If you admitted it all, would he call you selfish? Would he break off this friendship and leave you alone forever?

“Felix,” you weakly got out. Fresh tears blurred your vision. You reached out to his stomach and gripped the front of his hoodie.

“What is it?”

“I-”

“You can tell me and I promise, I won’t judge you.”

You didn’t deserve his goodness or his grace. You didn’t deserve this warmth and this sunshine. This savior should have stayed in bed and let your plans unravel, but here he was. You’d been praying for a miracle, for some reason to stay, and here it was, but it made your heart hurt. You were just so tired.

“I want to kill myself.”

His eyes locked onto yours and for a brief moment, silence buzzed between the two of you. You held your breath waiting for a response and he couldn’t breathe. You didn’t have time to react as he jerked you into his arms.

He pressed your head against his shoulder and you gasped. His arms squeezed around you and created a cage of love. “You’re not leaving my sight.”

“Felix,” you whispered.

“You don’t have to speak right now. We’ll go back to my apartment and I think I have your mom’s phone number. I’ll call your mom and I-”

“You can’t!” You jerked away in a panic. Your eyes were wide as you stared at him. “I don’t want to make this a big deal. She’s sleeping right now and-”

“I have to.”

Your head jerked and you tried to shove him away. He caught your hand and squeezed it tight. “Let go of me!” Your voice raised as you pulled away.

“No!”

“I’ll never forgive you!”

“I don’t care!”

“Felix, let go! I’ll stop being your friend! Don’t call her!” More tears filled your eyes. “Please, don’t call her.”

“I’ll call your mom. I’ll call your dad. I’ll call your siblings and I’ll call the cops.”

“You’ll lose me,” you weakly threatened. “I’ll never forgive you and I’ll hate you forever.”

His own tears fell from his cheeks. “Then lose me. Never talk to me again, I don’t care. As long as it means you’re still alive, I don’t care. I’ll lose you either way, just don’t give up on life.” “I’d rather deal with the weight of losing you that way than the weight of writing your obituary. The world doesn’t need me to describe how good you are when it flows from you naturally. Please. Think this through for me.”

You hated him so deeply right then and there. You wanted to scream at him. You wanted to swing and shake him. Didn’t he understand what he was doing? He was purposefully making you a burden now. Your internalized hatred of yourself would become everyone’s reality. You truly would be a problem now.

“I know you’re struggling and it’s true, I don’t know how much you’re struggling. The future must seem fickle now, but I won’t give up on you. You deserve the future that you talked about months ago and I won’t stand by and let you rip that chance from your own hands.”

“I will call whoever and I will scream at the top of my lungs to grab the attention of our neighbors. Not because I want to embarrass you, but because I love you. I won’t stop loving you, even if I have to stand here holding you and repeat the words for the rest of the night.”

“Please,” he pleaded, “just give it one more day and trust me. I will find a way to help you. Don’t let whatever demons you’re fighting win.”

It didn’t matter that your neighbors were sleeping. It didn’t matter that you were out in the open. The sobs you had been hellbent on suppressing finally slipped out. Your knees buckled and he slung you against his body.

Your head curled into his body and your shoulders shook. His arms squeezed you and he pressed your head against his chest. The heavy thump of his heartbeat made you cry harder.

Every organ inside of you was alive and every day, they fought to keep you alive. Memories were created from the people around you. Even when things got tough for others, how many times had you dropped your issues and been there when you were needed?

You hadn’t met all the people you were destined to meet yet. Still so young, you had so much time left. So many seasons to enjoy and so many new hobbies to try. Unreleased songs and new movies that you’d love.

Things don’t always last forever and neither would this discouragement and hopelessness. One day, you might be teetering on the edge of ending it all, but the future version of yourself sits on a couch at ease. They’re staring outside, drinking their favorite drink, and contentedly watching the bright yellows, blinding oranges, and soft pinks disappear as the sun goes down.

The night will not unveil the horrors in your head and it will not be feared. It will bring new adventures and the reminder that the sun will shine again. The people you love will be by your side. You’ll find new reasons to fall in love with the world around you. A bad day will just be a bad day and not stain your life worthless forever.

As Felix gripped you, he uttered a silent prayer. Whatever was out there, whether it was merely his own subconscious or a god, it helped him save you. He’d call your family and he’d find you help.

For one more day, you’d continue living, but this time, you wouldn’t be carrying the weight of your sadness and hurt alone.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lina-linny @straykidsstanforeverandever @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

Ko-fi

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids fic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids drabbles #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz #skz comfort #lee felix #lee felix fanfic #leefelixcomfort #lee felix x reader #lee felix x you #lee felix x y/n

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kdyq · 22 hours ago

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Noxian legacy

Part three of my mini series

context You and Ambessa share heartfelt moments all while preparing for the arrival of your child.

The sun cast a soft golden glow across the estate as you stood in the entry hall adjusting the buttons of your coat. Ambessa appeared from her study, already dressed in her sharp dark attire. Her golden eyes softened as they landed on you.

“Are you ready?” she asked her deep voice steady but also nervous.

You nodded smiling despite the fluttering in your stomach. “Are you?”

Ambessa gave a low chuckle stepping closer to rest her large hand on your back. “I’ve fought wars and faced councils but this…” She trailed off shaking her head as a rare small smile tugged at her lips. “This is entirely new.”

The two of you set off for the Hextech facility the journey unusually quiet. Ambessa held your hand the entire way with her grip firmly. When you arrived a staff member greeted you and led you into a private room with advanced equipment.

The healer an older woman with kind eyes gestured for you to lie down on the cushioned table. Ambessa lingered close her arms crossed but her gaze never leaving the healer’s hands as she watched the healer prepare the instruments.

“This might feel a little cold” the healer said spreading a clear gel across your abdomen.

You flinched slightly at the cool sensation and Ambessa immediately leaned closer her brows knitting together. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine” you reassured her placing your hand over hers.

The healer adjusted the monitor and pressed the wand against your skin. For a moment the room was silent except for the faint hum of the machine. Then the screen flickered to life displaying a small flickering shape.

“There it is” the healer said softly angling the screen so you and Ambessa could see.

You turned to look at Ambessa expecting her usual composed demeanor. Instead her eyes were fixed on the screen wide with wonder. Her hand tightened around yours as she leaned in closer her breath catching.

“That’s…” She paused her voice steady but creaking. “That’s our child.”

Tears fall from your eyes as you nodded. “Yeah. That’s them.”

For a moment the world seemed to stop. Ambessa’s usually stoic expression melted away replaced by raw emotion. Her free hand reached out hesitantly as if she could touch the tiny life on the screen.

“Strong heartbeat” the healer noted pointing to the rhythmic pulse on the monitor.

Ambessa’s lips parted and a rare tear glistened in the corner of her eye. She quickly blinked it away but you caught it your heart swelling at the sight.

“Do you want a picture to take home?” the healer asked breaking the spell.

Ambessa straightened clearing her throat. “Yes. Definitely.”

After the appointment Ambessa suggested stopping by Mel’s residence for a quiet dinner she had arranged in your honor. To your surprise Mel greeted you warmly her usual sharp demeanor softened.

“Halfway there” Mel said with a small smile raising a glass in your honor.

The dinner was intimate with Mel Ambessa and you sharing stories laughter and heartfelt toasts. Despite their differences you could see a subtle warmth between Mel and her mother a rare connection fostered by the new life growing within you.

“You’ll make a fine parent” Mel said at one point surprising Ambessa with her sincerity. “And I’ll make a fine aunt.”

Ambessa’s chest swelled with pride and she pulled you closer. “You’ll have to fight me to be the child’s favorite” she teased her protective tone softening the moment.

The evening ended with quiet laughter and a sense of unity you hadn’t expected filling you with hope for the future.

When you returned to the estate Ambessa led you to a secluded part of the grounds where a vibrant garden awaited. “I had this prepared for you” she said gesturing to the cozy benches the flowering trees and the gentle stream running through the space.

“For me?” you asked touched.

“For you” she confirmed “and for the moments you need peace. I know this journey won’t always be easy but you’ll have this our sanctuary.”

You gazed at her overwhelmed by her thoughtfulness and smiled. “I love it. And I love you.”

Ambessa pulled you into her arms her embrace warm and steady. “I love you too” she murmured. “And I will love our child with everything I have.”

Later that evening as you prepared for bed Ambessa emerged from her study carrying a small ornately carved box. She set it gently on the table beside you and opened it revealing a shimmering necklace adorned with an intricate Noxian insignia.

“This” she began her voice deep and stern“is a piece of my family’s legacy. In Noxus it’s tradition to pass this down to the next generation.”

You stared at the necklace its craftsmanship stunning and looked up at her. “You’re giving this to me?”

Ambessa nodded. “It’s for our child but until they’re born I want you to keep it close. As a promise. A bond.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you reached for the necklace. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

Ambessa stepped closer her hands cupping your face. “You are the one who brought light into my life. And now you’ve given me something I never thought I’d have a future worth fighting for.”

You kissed her deeply feeling the weight of her words and the strength of your love.

As the rain began to patter softly against the windows you curled up together in bed the necklace resting on your chest and Ambessa’s arms securely around you. For the first time in her life she allowed herself to imagine a future filled with love family and peace.

“THE END”

AN/

This series is so fun and it makes me happy that yall are exactly liking my stories. I genuinely made this page just strictly for me to post stories that I have made up or stories that I have seen and wondered how it would be if it was in a different character but I never knew it would blow up like this thank you all so much fr and happy new year!!!!

#arcane #ambessa league of legends #ambessa medarda #ambessa x reader #arcane ambessa #arcane x reader #arcane x you #ambessa x you #mel and ambessa #ambessa the chosen of the wolf

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lechrts · 4 hours ago

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Hiiiii! i was so obsessed with your lando cooking one but i have another idea kinda where’s its a little similar but reader is his private chef or something ??? Plz i love you’re writing so much 🥰

Stay With Me. ✷ Lando Norris

Pairing: Lando Norris x Privatechef!reader

Summary: When he finally musters the courage to talk to his private chef and eventually invite her to stay for dinner.

Word Count: 2.3k

Disclaimer/s: flufffff :3 meet cute ,, ish??? and forced proximity almost (not at all) Just Squint idk

Vera’s Voice! LOVE THIS REQUEST AYYEEE , hope u enjoy!!!! thank u for reading my fics!!! mwaaahhh

Lando never thought he’d end up with a private chef.

The idea sounded unnecessarily extravagant when his management first proposed it. He wasn’t a picky eater, and takeout worked just fine. But after months of rigorous travel, racing every other weekend, and well… his need to somehow always mention the disgusting food pile in his pantry on live streams… his team insisted on the idea.

It wasn’t about luxury, they claimed—it was about nutrition, recovery, and convenience. Lando reluctantly agreed, figuring it would be just another stranger in his house.

And that’s exactly what you were.

The first time you arrived, Lando only caught a glimpse of you—a short, polite nod as you introduced yourself by name.

You didn’t linger. No small talk, no unnecessary pleasantries. You brought bags of fresh groceries, prepared everything with quiet efficiency, and left him with neatly plated meals stored in his fridge.

And this routine went on for weeks.

Lando grew used to hearing the door click open mid-afternoon, a soft shuffle of feet in his kitchen as you unpacked your things.

He kept his distance, a little unsure of how to approach you. You worked so intently that he didn’t want to interrupt, and honestly, he didn’t know what to say.

So, he settled for his usual routine: nodding, mumbling a quick thanks, and letting you go about your work.

But as the weeks passed, he found himself oddly intrigued.

He noticed how precise your movements were—the way you diced vegetables or measured out spices. He caught whiffs of garlic and herbs wafting through the house, making his mouth water.

Once, he saw you pause by the stove to taste a sauce, your face lighting up with the faintest hint of a smile. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to pique his curiosity.

He wanted to know more about you.

It wasn’t until a quiet Tuesday afternoon that Lando finally mustered the courage to do something about it.

You’d just arrived, placing your bags on the kitchen counter and rolling up your sleeves. Lando was sitting on the couch, his laptop open in front of him, pretending to be preoccupied.

But he wasn’t working.

He was watching you out of the corner of his eye, nervously tapping his fingers against the keyboard.

Finally, he took a deep breath, stood up, and walked over.

“Hey,” He said, voice a little shaky.

You turned, startled. “Oh. Hi.”

Your voice was soft but firm, and your eyes quickly darted back to the chopping board as if you didn’t want to intrude.

Lando scratched the back of his neck, suddenly unsure of himself. “I was, uh, wondering…” He hesitated. “Do you ever get to eat what you make?”

You blinked, genuinely surprised by the question. “Not usually,” You admitted. “I just cook for you.”

“Oh.” He shifted on his feet, feeling a bit awkward. “Well, that doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

You tilted your head slightly, your lips curving into the faintest smile. “I don’t mind.”

Lando cleared his throat. “Still, you’ve been cooking for me for weeks, and I don’t even know if you think it tastes good.”

You laughed at that, a quiet, melodic sound that made Lando’s chest feel a little lighter. “I taste as I go. You haven’t complained, so I assumed all was fine.”

“It’s more than fine,” He said quickly, then winced, realizing how eager he sounded. “I mean, it’s really good. Like… amazing.”

“Thank you.” Your cheeks flushed a faint pink, glancing back down at the cutting board to hide your sudden blush.

Lando watched you for a moment, then blurted, “Can I help?”

You froze, looking up at him with wide eyes. “You want to help?”

“Yeah,” He said, trying to sound casual. “I feel bad just sitting around while you do all the work.”

Your lips twitched, almost as if you were holding back a laugh. “Well that’s technically what I get paid for…so..”

“Well, I don’t mind lending a hand..” He stepped closer.

“Um.. Alright,” You said slowly. “But I don’t think I can trust you near a stove from what your management told me, so how about slicing and dicing?“

“Sounds good.” He flashed a smile, quickly coming to your aid.

And Lando wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to help, but you quickly realized he was hopeless in the kitchen.

He now stood next to you, an apron tied loosely around his waist (as he insisted to feel official), struggling to peel a carrot. His grip was awkward, and the peels kept getting stuck in the blade.

“Like this,” You said, stepping closer and wrapping your hand around his to guide him.

Lando froze at the contact, his pulse quickening. Your hand was warm against his, and for a moment, all he could focus on was the soft scent of your vanilla shampoo and the gentle lilt of your voice as you explained the technique.

“There,” You said, releasing his hand. “Try now.”

He nodded, a little dazed, and attempted to mimic your movements. The carrot peeled more smoothly this time, though not without a few mishaps.

“You’re a pro.” You complimented, earning a wide smile from him as he continued.

Lando watched you, his confidence growing with each little laugh he managed to pull from you.

The atmosphere felt easy now, the awkwardness from before fading into something warmer. He grabbed another carrot and set to work, determined to keep up with you.

As the meal came together, the smells filling the kitchen made his stomach growl audibly.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” He admitted.

You flashed him a smile before you mindlessly tidied around the kitchen, thankfully washing dishes as you cooked. You made sure to plate his food, sliding a portion toward him as usual.

But before you could reach for your bag and finish cleaning up, Lando hesitated, leaning against the counter.

“Wait,” He said suddenly.

You paused, glancing at him. “Hm?”

“Stay with me.” Lando said almost too eagerly, quickly catching himself before stuttering. “Like stay for dinner.”

You felt your eyes widen at the offer, your heart skipping a beat. “Oh, I don’t usually—” Your voice started, but he cut you off, his words tumbling out in a rush.

“I insist.” He smiled before shifting on his feet, suddenly shy. “You’re always here, making these amazing meals, but you never eat them. It feels wrong. Like… you deserve to enjoy this too.”

You hesitated.

The idea of sitting down to dinner with him felt… different. But there was something in the way he looked at you—hopeful, genuine—that made it impossible to say no.

“Um.. Okay,” You said softly, nodding as you set your bag back down.

Lando’s face lit up, and he immediately set about pulling plates from the cabinet, his excitement almost contagious.

And it was… nice.

You sat across from each other at the small dining table, sharing the meal you’d just prepared—a hearty steak, (opposed to the salmon you were incredible at making but you were instructed to never prepare him seafood), roasted vegetables, and a side of creamy mash. It wasn’t anything overly fancy, but it was perfect, and Lando couldn’t stop himself from saying so.

“You’re too kind,” You said, your tone teasing.

“I’m serious!” He insisted. “I don’t know how you make the vegetables taste this good. It’s like magic or something.”

You laughed again, a little less reserved this time. “No magic. Just practice.”

You talked as you ate, the conversation flowing easier than Lando expected. He learned that you’d gone to culinary school, that you loved experimenting with new recipes, and that you preferred baking to cooking.

And to his surprise, you were extremely funny, with a dry sense of humor that caught him off guard.

“I’ll need to try your pastries one day then?” He said with a quirked brow as you shook your head.

“Unfortunately, not on the nutrition plan your management gave me.” You bit down a laugh.

“One cheat day won’t hurt…” He pushed for it.

You sheepishly shrugged. “I’ll consider.” Another laugh escaping your lips as he let out a stupid groan with a roll in his eyes.

And, for the first time, Lando felt like he really saw you—not just as the chef who came and went, but as someone he genuinely wanted to know.

When the meal was finally over, you started to stand, reaching for the dishes, but Lando stopped you.

“I’ll take care of it,” He said.

Your brow furrowed. “But—”

“You cooked. I’ll clean. That’s the deal now.”

You hesitated, then nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Okay… Thanks.”

Soon, you grabbed your bag to leave, Lando walking you to the door, feeling an odd pang of disappointment as you stepped outside.

“Same time tomorrow then?” You asked, glancing back at him.

Lando grinned. “Only if you’re eating with me again.”

Your smile widened, and for the first time, you didn’t look like you were in a hurry to leave.

“Deal,” You tried to hide your excitement.

“Goodnight.” He smiled.

“Goodnight.”

And as you walked off while he closed the door, Lando was already looking forward to tomorrow.

likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated!! ^_^ and please lmk if you wanna be apart of my permanent tags list :D

tags! @planetpedri @halfwayhearted @wdcbox @freyathehuntress @iovepoem @piastri-fvx

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avonnimimi · 2 days ago

Text

❀·°∗✧🌸✧∗°·❀

Plugged

The Series. Part: 1 | 2 | 3 |

━━━━━♡━━━━━━━━━━♡━━━━━

a/n: HERE IS PART ONE! @wannabe-fic-reader Just a sneak peak of what we’re getting into, I’m actually so excited! I hope you babies enjoy <3 Also, as a black person my self, some things may be written in my native english dialect, if you don’t understand just comment and i’ll translate ;) MEN AND MINORS DNI

content: drug dealer!Vi x black fem readers, weed, intox, cursing, toxic relationships, abandonment issues. lmk if i missed anything.

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Tonight was electric. You and Donte were at a house party just a few blocks down, the bass vibrating through your bones. You were perched on his lap, reveling in the attention, the way his hands roamed possessively over your thighs. You liked it when everyone knew you were his.

Donte's crew rolled in, a flurry of fist bumps and daps, the air thick with "Whaddup, G?" They acknowledged you with a nod, respectful but distant. Donte made it clear; you were his. They didn't approach unless absolutely necessary.

You brushed a kiss against Donte's cheek, whispering, "Bathroom break, babe." He nodded, eyes trailing down your body, a knowing glint in them. You smiled, swaying your hips as you turned away, aware of his gaze lingering on you.

In the hallway, a pink-haired woman held the bathroom door open for you. She had a masculine edge, but not quite a stud. "Sorry," she mumbled. "S'all good," you replied, barely glancing at her.

You fixed your makeup, then headed back to Donte. The pink-haired woman was there, but Donte was gone. Her eyes met yours, a soft gaze that held a surprising intensity. You noticed the glint of metal tucked into the waistband of her sweats; a gun.

Donte's friends were deep in conversation with her. You approached, about to ask about Donte, when the pink-haired woman spoke, "Who she for?" You ignored her.

"Where's Donte?" you asked his friends. They shrugged, claiming he'd been there just moments ago. Rolling your eyes, you sank back into Donte's vacated seat.

An hour crawled by. No Donte. The party was dying down, even his friends were leaving. "This nigga," you muttered under your breath.

You called Donte. No answer. Three more times. Nothing. You sighed, frustration building. Suddenly, the pink-haired woman reappeared, sweats low on her hips, a black t-shirt clinging to her frame, chains glinting around her neck.

"You good?" she asked. You groaned inwardly.

"Donte's MIA, and I'm tryna bounce," you said, annoyance lacing your tone.

A slow grin spread across her face. "Donte and I go way back. I can take you home." You hesitated, knowing Donte might flip, but the urge to leave outweighed any potential drama.

You nodded, gathering your things and following her outside. She walked towards a black SRT Hellcat, its lines sleek and predatory under the dim streetlights.

You raised an eyebrow. "This yours?" She laughed, a deep, throaty sound that caught you off guard.

"Aye, you know who I am?" she asked. You shook your head, hoping she wasn't about to launch into some egotistical spiel.

"I'm your boy's ex-plug. Used to run this end of the block. Just got outta jail." She smiled, a flash of white teeth in the darkness.

"Still don't know, and don't really give a fuck," you retorted, rolling your eyes. "Congrats on the getting out, though."

She chuckled, opening the passenger door for you. You slid inside, watching as she rounded the car, the keys jingling in her hand.

The engine roared to life, a powerful rumble that vibrated through the car. She pulled away from the curb, the Hellcat gliding effortlessly down the street. "Vi," she said, glancing at you.

"Y/N," you replied. "How do you know Donte, this time?" you asked, emphasizing the last word.

"Met him back in high school. I was two years above him," she explained, her eyes flicking to meet yours. "Got into the weed game, both of us. I was just better at it."

You scoffed. "He got busted, I didn't. Needed a new connect. I was the only good one left."

"Ah," you responded, watching the houses and trees blur past. A lighter flicked, and you saw Vi with a thick blunt between her lips.

"You smoke?" she asked, offering it to you.

"Yeah," you replied, taking the blunt and inhaling deeply, the smoke curling from your nostrils.

Your phone rang. Donte. "Bae, I was looking for-"

"You stupid bitch! Who you left with?" he snarled, his voice laced with a venom you'd never heard before. Your words caught in your throat. Beside you, Vi tensed.

"This girl... she said she was a friend of yours?" you stammered, the statement coming out as a question.

"I ain't friends with no bitches! Don't play with me!" he roared. Before you could respond, Vi snatched the phone.

"Relax, Donte. It's Vi. Remember me? Everything's chill. Pulling up to yours now," she said, her voice tight with annoyance. The car slowed, the engine rumbling low as she pulled up to a curb. You took another long drag from the blunt, handing it back to Vi.

"Thanks for the ride," you said, smiling at her. She nodded.

"Ain't nothin', precious," she replied, her voice softer now. The nickname sent a unexpected warmth through you. You stepped out of the car, waving as she pulled away, the engine roaring back to life, the sound echoing in the night.

You turned towards the house, bracing yourself for a confrontation with Donte. But the house was dark, empty.

Where the fuck was he?

You called Donte again. Nothing. "What dis bloodclat idiot doing, man?" you muttered, your thick accent sharpening with frustration.

You flicked on the living room light, heading to the bedroom. Dropping your purse on the bed, you noticed a small piece of paper tucked inside, one that definitely hadn't been there before.

You unfolded it.

(456) 327-6920 Call me if you want some good shit.

Your breath hitched. When the hell did Vi slip that into your bag? She hadn't even known you smoked until you were in the car. You replayed the party in your mind, but couldn't pinpoint a single opportunity she would've had. Sly as fuck.

A quick shower and a change into shorts and a tank top later, you were asleep on the couch, waiting for Donte.

—

3:00 AM. Donte was still MIA. Sleep was a lost cause.

"Maybe I need a spliff," you mumbled, checking your stash. Empty. Donte kept his in the car, the car he had, wherever the fuck he was.

Your eyes landed on Vi's note. You hesitated, then dialed the number. It rang three times before a sleepy voice answered.

"Mhm?" Vi sounded exhausted, but that sleepy rasp sent a shiver down your spine. You pushed the thought away.

"Could you bring me a five? Sativa." You didn't even need to identify yourself; she seemed to know.

"On my way," she murmured.

Minutes later, the rumble of her engine filled the night. You stepped outside, the cool air raising goosebumps on your skin, your nipples hardening against the thin fabric of your tank top.

You opened the car door and slid in. Vi, in a sports bra and sweats, was leaning back in the driver's seat. Her gun lay casually in the center console, a stark reminder of her earlier warning. Vi handed you the five without a word. You noticed a stash of papers in the center console and snagged one, quickly removing the seeds and expertly rolling a decent spliff, Vi's gaze following your every move.

You grabbed the lighter from her lap, sparking the spliff and inhaling deeply. The smoke filled your lungs, a familiar comfort. With each drag, the high intensified, Vi's eyes on you like you were some kind of masterpiece – box braids tucked under your bonnet, a few stray curls framing your face. You felt a strange self-consciousness under her intense gaze.

"Precious, I got another drop," Vi finally said, nodding towards your house. You nodded back, handing her the lighter and stepping out of the car. This time, Vi didn't drive away immediately. She waited, engine idling, until you were safely inside. Only then did you hear the roar of the Hellcat fading into the night.

Vi could tell this was going to be trouble. Good trouble.

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this is my original post, please don’t repost, translate, or plagiarize my work ;)

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siddyyyyyyyy · 5 hours ago

Text

Friendly Neighbourhood

Jason Todd x Reader

wc: 3.5 K summary: Befriending his neighbour gets out of hand. warnings: fluff, no y/n used, injuries from Gotham activities a/n: got this idea while doing my groceries. also decided to change up my theme a bit! enjoy! divider: @kodaswrld

You barely manage to lift out the two heavy grocery bags out of the back of your car, setting them down at your feet. With a heavy sigh, you fish out your keys and struggle to pick the bags up again, cursing under your breath.

»Need help with that?« You jump up at the deep voice behind you, looking to your right before you spot a similar man, close to your age.

»Uh...«

Jason can see the way your wheels are turning in your head, trying to figure out who he is while also thinking over his suggestion. Finally, he decides to help you out. »Jason… Todd. I live next door to you, if you noticed.«

He shrugs and fidgets with his hands inside his jacket pockets, already regretting it. But luckily, you simply light up and nod, glancing down at your bags again.

»Oh, right! No, I know, just needed a moment. Also, I‘d greatly appreciate your help.« Finally a normal person. No, finally a person that isn‘t actively trying to make your life worse. Without another word, the taller man picks the bags up and gets going to the front door of the apartment complex. You unlock the door and let him walk in first, taking notice of his broad back, still mesmerised, even when he‘s wearing a dark leather jacket. At the front of your door, you catch your breath after walking up four stories worth of stairs, needing a moment to compose yourself fully. Jason, however, doesn‘t seem to too exhausted and simply waits for you to open the door.

»Should I put them inside or just leave it here?« He feels rather awkward in this situation but refuses to show it or let himself cringe at his words, wanting to come off as friendly and nice.

»You can put it here, it‘s fine. Thanks, again.« Jason smiles lightly in return and steps back to his apartment door the opposite of yours, stepping in after unlocking it.

Inside, you stash away your groceries and take a small break, eventually slapping yourself for being so awkward with him. How did you not recognise him earlier, by your car? He is your neighbour! As a form of an apology, you settle into your kitchen and start making some baked goods, focusing on making the best cookies and bread you can muster.

After some hours, perfecting your cookies with sprinkles, and carefully wrapping the fresh loaf of bread into a pretty paper, his gift is ready. You put the sweet cookies into a tupperware, wrapping a light lace around it with a bow. Finally satisfied, you take your last wits and step out into the hallway, ringing his doorbell. To say that you‘re nervous puts it pretty well, your palms sweating lightly as you hold the baked good in yours arms. Jason answers his door, not having expected to see you again so soon again. Immediately, he straightens his posture and clears his throat, hoping he doesn‘t look like a mess right now.

»Hey, I just wanted to drop by some sweets after you helped me earlier… thanks again.«

You smile sweetly at him and hold out the loaf of bread with the box of cookies, overwhelming him. Although he doesn‘t see, surprised or shocked, he feels like his legs might give out under him.

»Oh— thanks. You didn‘t need to do all that, though.«

Jason takes the small box and craddles the lkoaf of bread into his arms, noticing how warm it is. You simply smile back, standing there for a moment longer before you awkardly say goodbye. From that moment on, Jason made sure to see you more often during the week and hopefully help you more with mundane stuff like getting your groceries into your apartment.

◐

In general, you didn‘t see Jason often. There were a few occasions you can remember seeing him, and it was extremly underwhelming. Once, you entered the basement with the on laundry day at the same time as him and he left immediately after you entered. You didn‘t think much of it, glad about the fact that you didn‘t have to worry about someone seeing your underwear. Another time was when you parked your car near the building and saw him getting off his bike before walking into the apartment complex before you. Thinking of it, that was approximately a week ago, if not less. Wait, he rides a bike? Maybe you should definitely try to see him more during the day, maybe he isn‘t that bad of a neighbour.

Even though you normally went into the laundry room in the mornnig to avoid people, you just couldn‘t bring it over yourself to get up a few minutes earlier than normally for that. But considering that it‘s rather late in the night, there‘s probably no one in there. Picking out the dirty clothes that need a wash, you walk downstairs into the shared basement and open the heavy door with your back, since your hands are busy with the heavy basket. Walking in, you didn‘t expect to see the same person you were thinking about earlier in the day. With an awkward smile, you pick a free mashine machine and mind your own business. Jason seems to be almost finished with his laundry, throwing in the last piece urgently. He nodded back at your smile, turning his broad back to you as he messes with the settings of the machine.

In the meantime, you throw in your clothes into the free machine, being composed, although you hope that he doesn‘t notice the light tremors in your hands. Why are you so nervous? It‘s not like you two talked more than three words together. Before you could overthink the situation, he leaves the room with a final glance over his shoulder until the room falls into yet another silence. The sounds of his washine machine going off is the only thing that keeps your mind in this reality. Finishing up your task, you can‘t help but be curious. With careful steps, you peer a little into the machine that washes his clothes, only noticing some flashes of red in between the black clothes. Without trying to be creepy, you casually make your way back into your apartment, forgetting about the previous interaction.

◐

Another week, another grocery haul. Exiting out of your car, you manage to put the two heavy bags onto the concrete before you fish out for your keys. This will probably take two trips, silently wishing that you magically grew a pair of biceps like your friendly neighbour has. Sadly, it doesn‘t happen, even after staring at the two grocery bags. With a final sigh, you pick up one of them and don‘t notice the man beside you until you lift your head up. From the surprise, you jump up and let go of your bag, a small gasp leaving you.

»Oh— so sorry, didn‘t mean it! You need help with that?« The black haired man seems just as surprised as you, seemingly guilty for scaring you.

But once again, your brain needs a second to catch up on the situation. Luckily, you nod and smile, rather amused. Either amused at the scare or his guilty expression.

»I was actually waiting for you to appear, so yes. Thanks.«

With a faint smile, Jason picks both bags into his hands and lets you lead the way to your apartment, as if he didn‘t know better. On the way up, he does his best to cover up the light sweat as he carries those groceries for you.

»Jeez, what do you have in there? A ton of bricks for a house?« He blurts out, his voice lightly out of breath. You can‘t help but chuckle at his comment, although you start to feel bad for him. »Stuff someone needs to survive during a week.«

You shrug in response and unlocks your door, not as exhausted as him. He sets the bags down by the door of your apartment, before he slips back into his own home, giving you a smile and a polite goodbye. After sorting through your ingredients, you can‘t help but think about the interaction for the rest of the day, hoping this will happen more often… without the scare.

Unlike last week, you simply bring him an easy recipe for cookies that he gladly takes and studies for the rest of the evening.

◐

Would it be weird for a neighbour to bring over cookies randomly? It was out of your recipe anyways, so you must like it, right? Judging from the last two times, it should be socially accepted to gift your neighbour something to show gratefulness.

Finally, Jason knocks at your door and tries not to fidget with the plastic bag in his hands, filled with cookies that he couldn‘t finish up. Unfortunately for him, the he made too many sweets, but now he has a good excuse to see you. The door opens after a few moments, revealing you in a fuzzy robe, draping over your body like a comfy blanket. Jason almost chokes on his spit and looks down, feeling like he just disturbed your privacy. You on the other hand, chuckle softly before greeting him.

»Good evening. Sorry about my outfit, got comfy.« You shrug your shoulders and cross your arms, ignoring the embarassment. At the same time, Jason composes himself and holds out the bag of cookies and your tupperware from the earlier cookies.

»It‘s fine, I tried your recipe and made too much. Hope you like them.« You take the gift with a grateful smile and look back up at him. You nod, trying to say something to keep the short interaction going.

»Thanks. So, you also like baking? I was hoping I didn‘t make you confused with it.«

Jason shakes his head with a faint smile, fidgeting with his hands briefly, before stuffing them into his pockets. »No, I like baking. Used to make cupcakes when I was younger, it‘s the time that keeps getting lesser these days.«

You get the struggle of having not enough time for yourself. Now that you think of it, you realise that he probably sacrficised time for these cookies. You smile back at him, keeping the cookies in your hands.

◐

It was like any other night shift for you, returning back inside your apartment complex early in the morning, with an aching body. The keys jingle in your hands as you go up the last few stairs into your story. As another yawn escapes you, you don‘t notice the other person in the hallway at the door opposite of yours.

Jason pauses and glances to his side of the sound of footsteps, staying frozen on his spot for another moment. Finally, your eyes focus on him and you give him a brief nod. He nods back, albeit slightly confused.

»Nightshift?« Judging by your rather formal clothes that remind him of work uniform, that‘s the only conclusion he comes up with. You nod in response, standing by your door. His leather jacket is in his arm, seemingly hiding something underneath it, or maybe your brain just makes things look weird after staying up for so long.

»You too?« Jason nods after a brief pause, glancing back down at his hand with his house key.

»Yeah… gonna rest up now.«

After saying goodbye, you return to your flat and pass out on your bed in a matter of seconds.

Moments like these happened more often where you both came back home at the same time or did your laundry in each other‘s company. Your conversations consisted of some small talk, sharing recipes together, and Jason made sure to bring your groceries up every week. It was fun and refreshing to have a helpful and nice neighbour like that. Especially if he has a few extra muscles that seem totally unecessary on him. Either way, you admire his workout routine, whatever it is, that he does.

Another night shift, another exhausted mind and insane craving for your bed. What you didn‘t expect to see was a vigilante by your door. Well, opposite of your door.

You both pause, a light gasp of shock escaping you as you stand there, frozen. Red Hood doesn‘t move as well, staring back at you silently until he finally clears his throat.

»Uh… do you know where Jason Todd is?«

His voice is rough and more raspy due to the modulator of the helmet, making you tense further. You process his words and shake you head quickly, glancing at Jason‘s door briefly.

»What? I- no, I didn‘t see him lately at all. Don‘t know where he went last month.«

A silence follows in the corridor, hoping that he believes you. Unexpectetly, he nods and makes his way past you, although with some distance.

»Good night, miss.« He mumbles, although the voice changer makes it sounds rather sinister. It seems like he doesn‘t notice, leaving you be and walks down the stairs in a hurry. You release a heavy sigh and watch his back until you hurry inside your apartment and lock your door, just in case.

You manage to fall asleep after pacing in your room, overthinking the situation. Is Jason in danger? Should you check up on him now? Considering that it‘s past four in the morning, that‘s a bad idea. Exhaling, you take a shower and eventually fall asleep afterwards.

You don‘t see Jason the next day in the laundry room, making you even more concerned. Luckily, you catch him next week as you walk out of your place to leave for the store.

»Jason! I need to talk to you for a moment.« You urge him lightly, stepping closer to him in the hallway. He stops and stares down at you, already tense. He doesn‘t know what to expect, ready to pull you inside his apartment and blackmailing you, so you won‘t reveal his identity to someone else… or worse, the media. But to his surprise, you feel concerned and look concerned.

»Listen, I get it if it‘s uncomfortable for you, but are you in danger? Because...« you hesitate, trying not to scare him, »Because I saw Red Hood at your door a week ago and he— he asked for you. Obviously I lied and told him you were gone since last month, but… do you need help?«

He listens to your small rant, seeing the worry on your face as clear as day. After thinking and contemplating in his mind, he pretends to be two people.

»I… you know, no one can know about this, but… he‘s actually a nice guy, just seems intimidating. He checks up on me a few times a year, but trust me, he isn‘t bad.«

He explains calmly, hoping to reassure you. The elder lady that lives above you comes down the stairs, seemingly noisy about the whispering in the stairwell. Jason notices and gently guides you inside, hand on your shoulder. Finally, inside and without any prying eyes, he goes on.

»Did he scare you?« This time, he seems worried as his eyes meet yours again. You shake your head, then nod, wanting to be honest.

»A bit… his voice just scared me.« He nods in understanding and lets go of your shoulder, glancing around his flat briefly.

»Want tea? It‘s the least I can do.«

That‘s how you settle onto his couch and drink tea together, taking your mind off the worrying topic with more mundane things.

◐

After getting to know more about Jason and why he knows Red Hoood, you feel calmer but also slightly more alert. Whenever you walk back home, you make sure to watch the rooftops, wanting to catch a glimpse of Red Hood, in case he patrols or goes to visit Jason again. Sadly, you don‘t see him, and find yourself wishing that he would appear someday again. Preferably at Jason‘s door, so you can escape into your apartment in case of an emergency.

Luckily, you catch him as you come back home after another long nightshift. You narrow your eyes at him, stopping in front of him as you take him in. The red guy seemingly stares back at you, exhaling lightly.

»Not scared this time, miss?« He sees you shake your head before untensing. He hums lightly under his breath, leaning up against the wall by Jason‘s door.

»Nightshift? Jason told me about your hard work.« He tries his best to pretend being another person as he stays casually leaned against the wall, arms crossed. You seemingly perk up shortly as he mentions your neighbour, eventually composing yourself afterwards.

»Did he? Well...you better take good care of him, I need him to carry my groceries.« Little did you know that Jason feels way more confident under his helmet, taking a few steps closer.

»Yeah? Such a big girl and you still need help with such things?«

You watch as he steps closer to you, but you don‘t get easily swoon over with his confident cockiness.

»Well, some girls like getting help with that. You should know that yourself, aren‘t you a vigilante?«

Jason explained the duties of Red Hood to you on the same evening when you had tea together. Now you‘re using his words against him, in a way he didn‘t expect. Red Hood pauses and blinks, coming off as stunned with his blank helmet. Finally, he steps back, raising his hands up in the air.

»Don‘t need to get cheeky there. Just wanted to tease ya.« He tries to save it, but once again, it falls on deaf ears as you walk past him to your door.

»Just do your job.« Is the last thing you say before you walk into your place, leaving him specheless in the hallway. Seems like you actually buy his act of being two seperate people. With a final nod, he enters his own apartment and wonders how long he can keep the act going.

◐

You visit Jason the day after, sitting on his couch as you talk his ears off about anything.

»Yeah— and then he stepped closer and just straight up insulted me. He thinks I‘m weak!« You complain to him as he prepares two cups of tea in his kitchen, smiling to himself as you talk.

»I‘m sure he didn‘t mean it like that.« He shrugs as he carefully walks over and hands you the sweet tea you seem to love.

»Still… he‘s a bit weird.« You mumble against the rim of the mug, making Jason grin more amused to himself. He leans further back against the couch, warming his hands up against his own cup of tea. A comfortable silence stretches between you as you simply sit beside each other, occaisonally sipping on your hot tea.

You sit up straighter, focusing on the flash of bright red underneath a pile of clothes at the armchair. Without trying to assume much, you glance subtly at Jason before you speak up.

»Is that his helmet?« He perks up beside you and looks up to where your eyes are focused on. Instead of immediately agreeing and covering it up, he watches you and stays calm, trying to predict how you‘ll react.

»Huh… yeah.«

You quirk an eyebrow at his response, finally looking back at him beside you. Your eyes narrow and you lean back into the couch, trying to say something to find out more.

»And.. he just left? Without his mask?«

»Mhmm.« Jason hums back in agreement, although he doesn‘t seem too convinced of himself. In reality, he feels extremly bad for lying right into your face the entire time. So, he stopped trying. It feels like you won‘t react too dramatic anyway, he hacked your phone and find out that you didn‘t tell anyone about any of this in the first place. In short, he thinks you are trustworthy, after doing his usual researching. Besides, it‘s hard to get rid of you anyway, considering you live right next door to him.

»Right...« You sigh out, finally putting two and two together, but won‘t voice it yet, being too nervous. Until he finally speaks up, leaning up this time.

»You know, I‘m surprised you believed me for this long.«

The tension finally snapped, making you relax but also grow excited.

»I knew you were the same guy all along! You both speak the same way.« You exclaim with a relieved smile, making him tilt his head in light disagreement.

»If you only saw me talking to muggers...« Jason mutters before he takes a sip of his tea.

It feels refreshing to trust someone with his identity outside of the whole vigilante and work area. Especially with someone so pretty.

←MASTERLIST

#dc comics #x reader #fanfic #batfam #batfamily #jason todd #drabble #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #jason todd drabble #jason todd fluff #jason todd fanfic #fluff drabble #one shot #fluff #masterlist

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beatlebvm · 1 day ago

Text

wet dream

summary: after a long night of intense activities, aegon targaryen falls asleep in the arms of his sweet and pretty niece visenya not knowing that in the morning there will be a surprise waiting for him.

pairing: aegon II targaryen x visenya targaryen (rhaenyra's daughter)

word count: ~1.6k

warnings: not proofread, 18+ mdni, language, smut, just filth and little fluff if you squint at the end, oral sex (m receiving), it's con — basically waking him up with head :P. ugly ending :/. ENGLISH ISN'T MY FIRST LANGUAGE!!!

author's note: this might be the last and only thing i'll ever publish in my life since i still have traumas from my wattpad era of 10 years ago lmao. i feel super insecure about this, it sounded nicer in my head but i hope you like it too!

maybe it was a dream.

such a beautiful dream — as the ones you don't want to wake up from, the ones you want to live through until the last second, the last bit. and it was so good.

too good to be true. visenya's mouth was so warm and welcoming, soft and wet just as aegon liked, and her lips moved eagerly and confidently, playing and sucking him off with the only ways she knew. aegon sighed, his hips shifted and he could already feel himself harden in his state of semi-unconsciousness, between wakefulness and a deep slumber.

her sultry gaze was fixed on him, a mischievous smirk lingered on her pretty lips and aegon just wanted to tear it away with an harsh thrust of his hips, wanted to feel her gag around his cock. but visenya just chuckled at his weak attempt to. gods, why was she so warm? why did it feel so real?

aegon shifted again, the dream was starting to get uncomfortable, his cock was rock hard and borderline painful and he couldn't bear it for any longer. plus, a strange stickiness between his legs seemed to grow and the targaryen was pretty sure that he might've spilled on his bed sheets with just that dream. a fucking dream. how embarrassing if someone found out that he wetted his bed at the modest age of twenty?

he shifted again and again, until the maddening image of visenya sucking his cock vanished in a blurry corner of aegon's mind, much to his displeasure. he could've stayed like that forever. but the discomfort and the wetness didn't leave, his cock still hard.

and the sounds too.

wet sound after wet sound, a few soft sighs and aegon was pretty sure that it wasn't just a dream anymore, and when finally sleepiness was slipping away and he was finally back into the real world, his eyes opened — visenya was there.

laying on his bed, her body still bare in all of its glory and naked from the night before when they indulged in their pleasurable and greedy company, her head dipped on to his lap. but she wasn't supposed to be there. not at that time — weak sunlight penetrated the windows of aegon's chambers, shades of orange and yellow sealed the dawn just creeping over king's landing and also aegon's full attention on the girl in front of him.

it wasn't just a dream. a wet dream. visenya was there, her lips really moving on him and the smirk on her face widened as she realized that her uncle finally awakened up. “good morning.”

good fucking morning indeed.

aegon blinked a few times, rubbed his eyes until his vision was clear just to make sure that his sweet niece was really there, and a rush of pleasure crossed through his body when visenya’s tongue teased and pressed on the slit of his dick. she shouldn’t have been there — by dawn visenya should’ve sneaked out of his chambers and gone back to her own to avoid unpleasant encounters within the halls of the red keep, unpleasant questions about her strange presence at such late hours in those corridors, or why the daughter of rhaenyra targaryen was just coming out of prince aegon’s chambers.

“w-what the fuck are you doing here?”, aegon asked, his voice low and raspy from a deep sleep which sent a shiver down visenya’s spine. but despite his harsh words, aegon wasn’t displeased by visenya’s presence, at all.

he wanted so bad to fuck that pretty face, thrust his hips up her mouth and claim her throat just like they both needed to, but aegon’s body was still heavy and stiff from his slumber — his hand found visenya’s silver hair and gripped them in a weak fist, guiding and following the motions of her head down his cock but not forcing her, jut telling her silently to not stop and continue with the superb and lovely job she was doing.

“isn’t that obvious?”, visenya teased, her voice hoarse too but holding that suggestive tone that always characterized her everytime she was in aegon’s company. her hand stroked him gently, not wanting to overwhelm him and leave him without attention as she spoke at the same time.

aegon whined, his fingers tightened around visenya’s wavy strands as he watched her mouth engulf him once again and swallowing him whole in her warmth. fuck, she was so good, too good to him. he was an asshole, and sometimes he felt he was just using her, taking advantage of her need for him — it was so wrong, sharing the bed and getting his cock wet from who aegon considered a bastard hs entire life, even if her hair were silver and her eyes of pale purple, her other features didn’t lie. but he couldn’t stop, he couldn’t pull away, even if visenya was rhaenyra’s daughter. “you shouldn’t be here.”

visenya cocked an eyebrow up, the idea of leaving didn’t even cross her mind when aegon’s protest sounded and came out of his lips more lighthearted than he wanted. he didn’t want for her to stop, she could read well the signs of his body well, no matter how weak they were: the slightest twitch of his hips, the way his hand seemed to push her head down more and more. “do you want me to stop?”

aegon didn’t reply in that moment, a moment of silence followed and only interrupted by the soft sighs and grunts leaving his lips and visenya’s mouth wet sounds. his body reacted once again, his hips weakly buckled up searching for more pleasure — which visenya didn’t give to him, and aegon couldn’t simply take it anymore. he needed her, needed that release. “n-no, fuck—”.

and his sweet niece didn’t need any more words, resuming her motions and giving aegon the good morning she planned to gift him and he was glad to take everything, feeling any resistance leave his body the moment pleasure settled in completely. not that there was some actual resistance. the farce was pathetic as much as aegon’s pretense that it was just sex between him and visenya, that there was no actual feeling growing for his favorite and only niece.

the obscene sounds of visenya’s mouth only grew louder as she doubled her efforts, her cheeks hollowed around him and the sight alone was almost enough to make aegon come on the spot — he couldn’t wait to fill that mouth with his seed, claim it and see her swallow his cum like the greedy and good girl visenya was. he shutted his eyes, and his mind was soon filled with memories of previous night, when visenya rode his cock like her life depended on it and with her pretty tits bouncing everytime their hips met, her moans echoing in the four walls of his chambers.

fuck, it couldn’t be already it… and yet visenya noticed aegon’s body tensing up, his balls tightening up under her warm palm, and she knew that in a matter of seconds and a few other gags around his cock ropes of his cum would paint her throat. and she couldn’t be more ready for it, more eager to taste him and not waste a single drop. “vis, i—”.

and just like visenya predicted, it took aegon a few moments to completely shudder and let the bliss overflow his body and mind, coming and spilling into her welcoming mouth with a single and beautiful moan that made visenya quiver too. aegon seemed to lighten, he buckled his hips up a few times, the tip of his dick kissed the back of visenya’s throat and spurts of his warm cum marked her as his, and he made sure that no drop went to waste. aegon could’ve died right in that moment and he would’ve been the happiest man in the whole world — no better awakening than that one could’ve existed and aegon couldn’t have felt better than in that moment. he was so fucking lucky to have her, he couldn’t believe it.

sadly, to aegon’s displeasure and reluctance the peak didn’t last as much as he desired and the effects of it inevitably subsided but he couldn’t help but groan again as he felt visenya’s thighs straddle his hips and her settle on top of him once again. just like last night. with a satisfied sigh and a greedy lick of her lips, visenya hid her face in the crook of his neck and wrapped her arms around his torso, leaving a few sloppy and lazy kisses on the pale skin of his throat. aegon sighed too, his arms doing the same with her and let himself enjoy the warmth that her sweet embrace brought. he could’ve done that every morning and never got tired of it — fuck anybody’s suspiciousness.

a weary smile creeped on aegon’s lips as he nuzzled his nose against her soft hair, his heart swelling with content as he heard visenya chuckle lightly at his gentle tickle. his fingers caressed her kindly, with a sweetness that rarely characterized aegon and that he never showed in public, but for a reason or another, it felt right to act around visenya like that, almost unconsciously even. he brought his lips to her hair, tilting her head to kiss her forehead, eyelids, nose, cheeks and eventually her lips with chaste but sweet pecks. aegon could briefly taste himself on her soft lips and it almost spurred him on and made his cock to stiffen but he held back, wanting to savour the moment with visenya.

“good morning indeed.”

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mylovesstuffs · 3 days ago

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OT13 reaction to someone flirting with their s/o at an award show

Request: I've never sent you a request before so I tried to follow your instructions properly hope this is ok 👀)

seventeen ‼️🫶🏼

Fluff? Angst? Up to you really

Reaction 🌝

hm so in favour of the award season that just past, the idea was how the sebongs would react with someone else flirting with you during awards night (in this case y/n / reader is also a idol/ artist attending and no one knows their together ygm)

like who would be protective and approach right away? Who would just watch giggle and chuckle? Who would try to be nonchalant but be so obvious that they're looking?

Can't wait to hear your thoughts ‼️ sending lots of love and a happy new year 🫶🏼🫶🏼

A/N: I love the prompt! Btw, it might seem like everyone's reacting the same way, but no, they aren't. They just have a common ground, which I think every man should have. Also, I realized halfway through that I should've categorized it, but I was too lazy to rewrite the whole thing again. This would've been a good one-shot sort of thing if I only focused on one member, but I don't think I would be able to write all 13 members with the same prompt. I guess I'll try something like this in the future

Seungcheol: Cheol would exude calm dominance. He'd sit there, pretending to be relaxed, but his eyes? It would be locked on the situation. Wdym he’d do nothing? Absolutely not. The second he notices someone getting too bold with you, he'd make his presence known—not through confrontation, but with subtle yet commanding gestures. He’d accidentally catch your gaze from across the room, his intense stare sending a clear message: You good, babe? Need me to step in? If the flirter doesn’t back off, expect him to walk over, throw a casual arm around your chair, and smile politely, but there’s a steeliness to his tone when he introduces himself. He’s a leader on and off the stage, and no one’s coming near his person.

Jeonghan: Oh, Jeonghan's the king of playing it cool. He wouldn’t move a muscle, letting out a little amused chuckle as he watches the scene unfold. But don’t let his easygoing demeanor fool you—he’s analyzing every single detail. He trusts you completely but also knows how charming he can be. If the flirting escalates, he’d casually saunter over, all smiles, and innocently join the conversation. His honeyed tone would have just enough of an edge to make the flirter retreat. You thought he wouldn’t step in? He’s Jeonghan, the ultimate strategist, and he’ll always protect his love while still being effortless.

Joshua: Joshua would play it cool too but in a way that’s so obvious it’s endearing. He’d smile politely from his table, but his grip on his drink might tighten ever so slightly. He’s a softie, but also your man. If the flirter gets too close, he might find an excuse to accidentally walk by, brushing your arm or whispering something sweet and cheeky like, “Having fun, babe?” He’d never confront anyone outright unless necessary—he’s too classy for that—but his subtle presence would make it clear to everyone in the room that you’re taken. You think he’s just sitting there? Nah, he’s staking his claim in the most elegant way possible.

Jun: Moon would find it hilarious. He’s such a chaotic cutie sometimes, I can’t. He’d nudge the member sitting next to him and point at the scene, whispering something like, “Look at that. They think they have a chance.” But deep down, there’s a flicker of possessiveness. If the flirter keeps pushing, he might get up and walk over casually, sliding into the conversation with a sly grin. His playful charm would leave the flirter flustered and unsure of what just happened. He’s protective in his own quirky way, and I’m crying because he’d never let you feel uncomfortable. I love my man so much TT

Hoshi: Hoshi would be a mix of soft and slightly chaotic, and I love him for it. At first, he’d probably pout from a distance, his face betraying his jealousy even though he’s trying to act unaffected. But let’s be real, he can’t keep it cool for long. The moment he thinks you’re even a little uncomfortable, he’d dart over, all bright smiles, and wrap an arm around you in a totally friendly gesture. He might say something teasing but with a hint of possessiveness. His protective tiger energy will activated.

Wonwoo: Angst King Supreme. He would keep it nonchalant on the surface, but inside? Oh, he’s feeling things. He trusts you completely and knows you can handle yourself, so he wouldn’t intervene unless absolutely necessary. However, his subtle reactions—like a clenched jaw or a quick glance at the flirter—would give him away. He wouldn’t confront the flirter right away, but he’d sit in silence, overthinking every little thing. “Should I have made it public?” He’d question himself, spiraling a little, even though he knows you love him. If things escalate, he might casually walk over, not saying much but standing close enough to make the other person feel the heat of his presence. You think he’s unbothered? He’s LITERALLY fuming inside but hiding it behind that cool exterior, and I’m scared —

Woozi: Woozi’s reaction would be so understated that you might not even notice it at first. He’d sit quietly, watching the interaction with a small, almost imperceptible frown. He’s reserved but fiercely protective. If he feels like the flirter is crossing a line, he’d lean over to a member and mutter something like, “Do I need to go over there?” And if he does approach? Oh, he’s not wasting time on pleasantries. His tone would be calm but firm, sending a clear message without ever raising his voice. He’s your man, and he’ll step up when it matters most.

Dokyeom: Dokyeom would be flustered at first, unsure whether to intervene or let you handle it. He’s such a sweetie. But the moment he sees you even slightly uncomfortable, he’s on his feet, heading over with his signature smile. He’d probably introduce himself in the friendliest way possible, but there’s an underlying protectiveness in his tone. His warmth would make the flirter back off without even realizing it. Wdym he’d stay seated? Nope, he’s too caring for that.

Mingyu: Mingyu would be the most obvious of the group, and it’s honestly adorable. This man wears his heart on his sleeve. He’d try to stay cool, but his constant glances and slightly furrowed brows would give him away. If the flirter gets too close, he’d have no choice but to step in. He’d walk over with that signature puppy smile, but there’s a possessiveness in his eyes that makes it clear who you belong to. This puppy is anything but subtle.

Minghao: The8 would radiate confidence. He trusts you and knows you can handle yourself, but that doesn’t mean he’s not paying attention. If someone gets too bold, he’d walk over, might place a light hand on your back or shoulder, a subtle but powerful gesture that says, ‘This is my person.’ He’s the type to protect you without making a scene, and we should be swooning because he’s so effortlessly cool about it.

Seungkwan: Seungkwan would be dramatic internally but composed externally. He’d whisper to the members, “Are they serious right now?” before shooting occasional side-eyes at the scene. If he feels like you’re uncomfortable, he’d march over, his protective instincts kicking in. He’s fiercely loyal and wouldn’t hesitate to let the flirter know they’re out of line—but in the most eloquent way possible.

Vernon: He would be unbothered on the surface, but internally? He’s watching everything. He trusts you completely and knows you can handle yourself, so he’d sit back and observe unless things got out of hand. If he does intervene, it would be in the chillest way possible—maybe a simple hand on your shoulder or a quick, “Hey, you good?” He’s just subtle about his protectiveness, and he's here for his low-key energy.

Dino: Dino would NOT be the least protective. He’d watch the interaction closely, his brows furrowed slightly. If the flirter gets too bold, he’d approach confidently, standing tall. He might not say much, but his presence alone would be enough to make the other person back off. He’s mature enough to stand up for his love.

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strawberryforks · 2 days ago

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can you write a tim bradford angst fic pleaSe? something like along the lines of him and the reader are married and she comes from a line of cops ( kinda like blue bloods) and he has an affair with lucy? super angsty!! thank you!!! ☺️

ignorance isn’t always bliss// tim bradford x reader

warnings: swearing, violence, police stuff, mentions of guns, cheating, #nobetawedielikethisrelationship

a/n: requests are open! THANK YOU anon for this one!! and HAPPY NEW YEARS! <3

There had been signs. Some subtle, some so obvious that by ignoring them—by not following them you wondered if you should quit your job and pull a John-Nolan and work construction (if not following in his footsteps, you should’ve consulted him at least. John Nolan was a big talker and somewhere inside all of those words was always solid, sometimes maddening, advice. Maybe if you had asked him things would’ve ended differently) Hey, or maybe you could be a farmer! Work at a call centre, as a barista, as a banker, a hostess, literally any occupation that didn’t involve uncovering the truth. The truth that you were trying so hard to ignore.

You ignored it when your husband started “working late” even when Sergeant Grey had no recollection of the case he stayed late working on. Even when his late night scouring of casefiles was done with his Rookie, Lucy Chen. But… that was okay. Lucy was like a sister to you. When she needed a place to stay you had convinced Tim to let her crash on your couch–maybe that was where it all went wrong, maybe it was your fault, you who had planted the seed that tore your family apart. You ignored how he kissed you less, how you had less to talk about. You even ignored when your brother Charles looked at you with pity having overheard rumours you insisted were just that–rumours.

You ignored it when Tim came home smelling like a perfume that wasn’t yours. When that perfume was one you’ve smelt in the workplace before; one belonging to a coworker you considered a friend.

Your friend, your husband.

It was all so surreal.

Labels didn’t mean much, you learned that quickly. A friend could betray you, so could a husband. The badge didn’t always mean honour, not outside of your family at least.

You ignored a lot… but you could only be so oblivious.

Your breaking point was unexpected. It came on a monday. Tim had the day off because he’d been working night shifts and you had gotten off early, hoping to patch up some things by cooking your husband a nice meal–one of his favourites.

“Baby, I’m home! I grabbed some groceries, going to make lasagna for dinner, I think.” You shoulder through the doors and Kojo bounds over to you, barking. He wags his tail happily and you bend down and scratch the space between his ears. “Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?” You step past him and hear a noise. Is someone… what? Suddenly your off duty weapon is unholstered, you lift the gun up as you clear the house, room by room. There’s no one in the living room, no one in the kitchen. You start down the hallway, pushing doors open and looking inside. No one in the bathroom, no one in the guest room. That leaves one room. Your bedroom. The noises grow louder. You hear rustling, hushed voices. Frantic movements. You’re hoping; honestly you’re praying that someone has broken in. Anything but what you’ve come to expect. “Tim?” you call, “is that you?”

No answer. Of course there’s no answer. You take a deep breath, the cool metal of the doorknob closed in your hand. You twist it and push into the room. Tim’s standing at the end of the bed, facing you and the open door. He’s shirtless, his hair is messed up and there’s remnants of lipstick at the corner of his mouth.

You don’t wear lipstick. You haven’t since your last date night. The one so long ago the details are fuzzy.

Tim drags his hand across his face again while the other flies to the back of his neck. “Y/n…” he looks guilty and you know what he’s going to say, you just… you don’t know if you can hear it. If you’re ready to–if you’ll ever be ready to. You feel a strange tightness in your chest. It hurts, it really does.

You’ve been wounded in the line of duty before. You didn’t expect to be wounded in your own home. Not by the man who's supposed to love you wholly.

In sickness and in health–you laugh. Tim could stand by his ex wife, Isabel, all through her addiction but he couldn’t stand by you. “What…” you choke, “what did I do?” there had to be something you were missing; some catastrophic way you had messed up and ruined everything.

“You didn’t do anything.”

Your eyes dart around. The room that you and Tim shared. The room that held so many memories—all tainted, now. The sheets are messed up, there’s clothes on the floor. A bra, panties, neither yours. Your gun clatters to the ground and the safety’s on, thankfully. Not that you’d care. Some physical hurt would pair with the emotional kind nicely–distract from it if you were lucky.

You were far from lucky.

Eyes watering, hands shaking, you raise them to keep distance between you and Tim. He’s approaching like you’re some feral animal he’s afraid to startle. “It’s not what it looks like.”

You laugh, the sound sharp and bitter. “It is though, Tim. It really is.” You shake your head back and forth, not understanding. “Why—why couldn’t you have just asked for a… a divorce? Why did you have to go and…” Tears run down your cheeks. You wipe them away frantically feeling embarrassed—you knew this was coming. You knew what was going to happen so why did your heart feel like it was shattering? “Why did you have to cheat on me?”

“It wasn’t planned… I wouldn’t… You have to believe me, it was a mistake.”

“No, no. A mistake is forgetting to change over the laundry. A mistake is not taking out the trash. This… this isn’t a mistake.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Y/n.”

“Do you love her?”

He didn’t say a thing.

“Do you love her?!” you screamed.

“I… I don’t know.”

An ‘I don’t know’. He threw everything away over an ‘I don’t know’.

Tim took a step toward you, his hand reaching out, but you flinched away. His face twisted with desperation but a flicker of understanding was there too– you didn’t want him to understand. You didn’t know how he could.

"I never meant for this to happen. I got confused, I—"

"Don’t." Your eyes were full of tears you refused to let loose. "Don't lie to me. You’ve done enough. You chose her after… after all we’ve been through. You, me, my family.”

“I never believed the marriage trap cops fall into. When my buddies wouldn’t come to our wedding because it was my first?” You laugh bitterly, “cliches are cliches for a reason, I guess!”

The sadness morphs slowly, turning into a building rage. “Where is she?” You march over to the bed, flipping the duvet up onto the mattress and peering underneath. “Not under the bed!” the curtains are the next to go, “not behind the curtains!”

“Y/n, you need to calm down,”

You laugh, feeling manic as you rip the curtains down. Light pours into the room but today is anything but bright. The last spot you check is the closet and there she is. Lucy Chen stares at you from behind the sweaters hanging in your closet. Lucy Chen. Lucy mother fucking Chen. Like a sister to you and… you laugh. “You know what—“ your voice breaks, “you can have him! And while you’re at it take some of my fucking clothes,” her face is bright red, her eyes wide and regretful? You don’t care. You can’t find it in you to.

Her hands are the only thing covering her body. You can’t breathe–she’s your friend and she was sleeping with your husband. Your husband! You start throwing things. Your clothes, the hangers they’re on, your shoes, “have these too!” you shout. You pick up a book preparing to launch it at her and then your hands are being forced behind your back as you scream and spit and curse. Tear tracks are prominent and maybe you are a feral animal because you don’t even hear the words whispered to you as cuffs click onto your wrists and you’re taken down to the station.

“I want a lawyer!” you scream and he appears. Lopez’s husband, (not a cheater! You refuse to speak to another one of those) Wesley Evers, approaches you with a frown on his face and his brows crinkled in confusion.

“What’s going on?”

“We’re not pressing charges,” Tim says, “she just needs to calm down… she assaulted officer Chen and–”

“What the hell is going on?!” Wesley’s question is repeated in a booming voice and this time, it’s your father asking. The chief of police is standing in the middle of the hallway glaring daggers at Tim Bradford, the man he used to go golfing and to get coffee with. He storms over. “Why is my daughter under arrest? Talk, Bradford. Now.”

“Sir, I… maybe it’s best that we talk somewhere else.”

People are staring. Colleagues, civilians waiting to file complaints.

You smile. Sweet, fake, heartbroken. “We’re getting a divorce, dad. He cheated on me with Chen… I… Tim, you said you aren’t pressing charges so let me go, okay? We’re done, this is all done.” Tim passes the keys to your dad who unlocks the cuffs. Wesley still hasn’t managed to slink away so you turn to him. “I need a divorce lawyer. Are you multi-talented or do you know someone? I don’t care about the house, he can have it, but I want Kojo–our dog.”

“You can’t–”

“Officer Bradford I’m going to recommend you leave,” says your dad, ever the diplomat. “Take the day off, get out of my precinct.”

“Yes sir.”

“It’s Chief.”

“Yes Chief.”

Then Tim’s gone, the cuffs are off, and you’re being led into your fathers office. He lectures you because you’re a cop and you’re held to a higher standard because you wear the badge. He lectures you because you’re better than this and because you should know better. But after all of that he hugs you. He holds you while you cry and tighter, when you tell him, still sobbing, “I’m pregnant, dad.”

#tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford #tim bradford x you #tim bradford x reader #the rookie fanfic #the rookie x reader

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goatgoatgoat7778 · 2 days ago

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I swear I draw more than rainworld stuff, this is just somehow the only stuff that ends up getting posted! I probably outta start posting sketches and stuff to balance things out lol.

Not to mention that this isn't even the original direction I was gonna take with Scratch. I was going to have him form a bond with an iterator who was studying slugcat language. Originally the iterator would help him out of pity (and to study his language), but would later realize he's kind of a gluttonous jerk and would only work with him begrudgingly to further their studies. I might still do something with that, but chronologically it takes place before this story. Oh well. Non-chronological story-telling just makes it more artsy or something lmao

Anyway, story:

Warnings: painful hunger, Scratch questions whether he’s a good person and it might be kinda heavy? idk, he's going through a redemption arc

Wake never thought that the first slugcat he’d end up bunking with would be such an ass.

He tried his best to be courteous when they first met! The edible flora in the region had been scarce the past few cycles and it seemed the other slugcat (Scratch, as he would later introduce himself) had been hit by the famine, given the audible rumbling coming from his stomach as he fixated on the large centipede at Wake’s feet. His stomach gave a groan to remind him that he’d also been affected by the famine, but he stifled it with a hand as he offered to share his meal. It had been a long time since he had company, and Wake was more than happy to eat a smaller portion if it meant making a friend. Surely, he thought, that such an act could only lead to friendship.

Scratch apparently didn’t view the exchange in quite the same light. Instead of sharing, he demanded Wake give him the whole centipede, so the breaking of bread turned into a tug-of-war which escalated into a full on wrestling match. They broke it up when it started to rain, knowing they only had a few moments to get to shelter before it grew dangerously heavy.

It was clear that Scratch wasn’t as acquainted with the area as Wake, and though Wake was mad about the fight, he wouldn’t dare leave a slugcat to die. He grabbed Scratch’s hand and pulled him beneath the water where the nearest shelter was. Usually it would be easy enough to swim down there, but the added weight of Scratch, who refused to so much as even kick his legs in assistance, and the massive centipede he refused to let go of, made the short trip feel like a high-intensity workout.

Wake pulled them into the shelter. The automatic door slammed shut behind them and the excess water drained through the floor. Scratch took a few gasping breaths and shook himself off while Wake flopped onto his back, muscles burning from the unexpected exercise. The only thing he wanted to do was stuff himself with centipede and take a long nap. But Scratch had other plans. Which is to say, Scratch had the exact same plan.

Before Wake could even process what was happening, Scratch ate the entire centipede by himself, leaving nothing but the hard inedible shells behind. He then nestled himself in the opposite corner of the shelter, giving no acknowledgement to Wake for either the meal or saving his life. Absolutely ungrateful!

Now, Scratch was fast asleep while Wake jealously watched his large belly grumble contently. Wake rolled over onto his back, and rested one hand on his horribly empty stomach. He swore he could feel it devouring the excess fat on his belly in real time, each rumble further hollowing out the space between his ribs. It wasn’t the first time he’d been through a starvation cycle, but it had been quite a while since the last time he had and he really wasn’t used to it.

Another deep growl erupted and he found himself a bit embarrassed about the noise but secretly hoping the noise would wake Scratch up. If he had to go without food, it was only fair that Scratch should go without sleep. It was petty, but an eye for an eye was enticing when you lost yours first.

For the time being, all he could do was imagine the closest places to get food from the shelter as he waited for sleep to take him. Maybe the flora would be grown by the time the shelter opened back up- otherwise he could go for something meaty and filling. Bubble fruit, glow weed, jellyfish, lizards… or a centipede even bigger and juicier than the one from before, all to himself. The thought caused a twinge in his stomach, and suddenly a loud groan emerged from his middle, echoing through his empty digestive tract and rumbling from his rib cage down to his navel. He quickly pressed his hands into his stomach to stifle the noise. Now this was just ridiculous!

Scratch’s stomach was constantly noisy due to his ever-present hunger, and he was able to tune it out for the most part- but when the growling got to a certain volume, he knew he had to listen. He rolled over onto his side, his large stomach stretched out in front of him. He propped his head up with one hand and rubbed his stomach with the other, as that seemed to be the only way to calm it down while waiting for the shelter’s doors to unlock. Though weirdly he felt full, at least full enough to where his stomach shouldn’t be making such a loud and hollow growl like the one that just woke him up.

He rubbed his eyes and peered into the darkness.When he saw the slugcat next to him, pressing his hands into his stomach as it shook beneath him, he finally recalled the events that led them there. His adversary, he remembered, had been quite thin during their first interaction, but he looked even thinner now. Deep in the back of his mind, for the first time, a twinge of guilt manifested itself. Surely such a thin slugcat needed that centipede more than Scratch did, yet he tried to share with Scratch anyways. And then he saved Scratch’s life, only for Scratch to repay him by gorging himself and leaving nothing behind. Okay, so maybe Scratch messed up. In fact, maybe it’s not the first time he had messed up. There wasn’t much he could do about it now, but at least he could try to make it up to Wake.

What’s that thing called when you say something to someone so they get over a bad thing you did? It started with an “a” I think… apple? appal, aplo, abe, aps…. I can’t remember! I’ll figure it out later.

Scratch sat himself next to Wake, who looked at him with those unusual pupiled eyes. “You seem hungry,” he said, still racking his brain for that forsaken word.

Wake furrowed his eyebrows. Another growl tore through his stomach as he curled his body in to stifle it. “Go figure.”

“Okay look, I should have shared the centipede or whatever. I feel like… bad about it.” Scratch rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as his more complex thoughts struggled to manifest themselves as words.

If he was being truly honest with himself, would the seed of guilt be able to sprout through his words so that Wake could see it? Or would it be even more clear to him how selfish Scratch was, manipulating Wake into showing him forgiveness and tacit permission to continue his self-serving lifestyle? Scratch always avoided thinking too hard about whether he was a “decent” person and he certainly avoided talking about it. If he confined them in his brain, they were just transient thoughts with no real weight to them. But if he said them out loud, they would become real, something that could become part of the consciousness of others and something to be validated. He knew others wouldn’t look at him favorably if he said what he was thinking. He kept this thought inside, too.

Hunger was much easier for him to understand; it’s that gnawing in your stomach that feels like a black hole pulling in energy and fat and muscle from the body, refusing to quit even in the absence of food. This black hole also pulled the thoughts from his head. Anything that wasn’t related to his hunger, or satiating it, was dragged into the event horizon until the singularity at the pit of his stomach churning the thoughts into an aching nothingness, and forcing Scratch’s attention on his innate need for food. It was a simple, predictable, and necessary cycle, but he didn’t know how to balance that with overindulgence. At some point, the black hole of his stomach became a supermassive black hole and he, an obsessive astrophysicist.

It had been a long time since the instinct of satiating oneself was overshadowed by another- the instinct to take care of one’s own. At the end of the day, he would do what he instinctively felt like doing, regardless of whether he could justify it or not (and for once, he could).

“I don’t have food but I could try to help with… y’know.” He gestured to Wake’s stomach as it lurched hungrily. “Making it a bit more tolerable until the rain stops.”

Wake blinked, his expression softening. He was never one to hold a grudge, especially when his curiosity was piqued. “How?”

Scratch reached over and placed a hand on Wake’s stomach, gently circling it as the riotous gut rumbled against the pressure, somehow even louder than it was before. It was soft and cool, and Scratch could feel Wake tensing his ab muscles before his stomach let out another groan. “It won’t help if you don’t relax. Your stomach will growl whether you want it to or not, so there’s no use trying to hide it.”

Wake let out a long breath as he let his muscles loosen. Scratch was clearly very good at tending to tumultuous tummies; he seemed to know exactly where to rub to ease the pressure where his stomach twisted in its fruitless effort to devour the various foods Wake had been imagining. His eyes closed as the wave of hunger began to die down but they fluttered open when he felt Scratch move from rubbing his stomach to rubbing his cheeks and running his fingers through his feathery gills.

“I was just curious to see how they felt,” he explained as he pulled his arms back and lied back down. “Goodnight, I guess.”

Wake, not quite wanting the affection to stop but not going to push it, mumbled, “can you get closer? You’re warm.”

“Sure,” Scratch replied, scooting until his back was resting against Wake’s front. Wake wrapped his arms around him and rested his cheek against his shoulder. Scratch wasn’t sure if Wake was fully cognizant of what he was doing or if he was always this touchy-feely with other slugcats. But as certain as he was that he would wake up hungry in the morning, he was certain of one thing; hugs feel nice.

#stomach growling #hunger kink

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