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aothotties · 10 months

Text

Miss Me?

Pairing: BabyDaddy!Connie x Black!Reader

Warnings: unprotected sex, choking, hair pulling, pet names, Connie speaks spanish, Connie is a panty thief, multiple orgasms, fingering, mirror sex, mating press, cream pie, super fluffy at the end.

Word count: 4.3k

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“Cairo please stay still so mama can change your diaper, your dad will be here any minute.” You plead with your toddler, rushing to put on his diaper.

“Damn it Connie” You mumble at the sound of your doorbell ringing, of course he shows up early when your hands are full.

“Mama, papa’s at the door.” Your oldest, Cj, says as he eats his snack at the kitchen table.

“Have you tried opening the door from papa?” You ask him, trying and failing to hide your sarcasm.

Your son sighs out dramatically and pauses his Ipad. He drags his feet to the front door and opens it.

“Cj! Que paso papa?” You hear your son’s voice perk up as he and his father start speaking Spanish.

“Your Spanish is magnificent papa, I see your mama is teaching you well?” He looks over at you and stifles a laugh while you wrestle with Cairo.

“I’m trying to. There! Go ahead and be free.” You huff and lean back on your arms, tilting your head to the side with a smile on your face as he toddles over to his father.

“Ven aqui hijo!” He exclaims, immediately scooping the small boy up into his arms as he kisses all over his face.

You stand up from your spot on the floor and grab your phone to check the time. You have a date tonight and who better to watch your boys than their father.

“Mama you didn’t give papa a hug yet” Your son points out, hiding a sneaky smile behind his hand as he giggles.

“He’s right mami, you’re the only one who hasn’t given me a hug.” He sets your younger son down and walks over to you slowly with his arms open wide.

“You guys think you’re so sneaky don’t you?” You look between the both of them and playfully roll your eyes.

You walk over to Connie and wrap your arms around his waist, you let out a gasp when he tightens the hug and rubs his hands up and down your back. You can't exactly explain it, but the way he’s hugging you kind of made you miss him being around.

“Make sure your little boyfriend has you back at a decent time.” He pulls away from you and gives you a smile.

“Okay one, Tyler is not my boyfriend he’s my work friend. And two I will let you know how the night goes when I come back.” You give him a quick kiss on the cheek then head to your room to get ready.

After about 45 minutes you finally finish getting yourself together. You make your way to the living room and swing your purse onto your shoulder.

--- “Alright boys, I’ll be back by 11. If you need anything ask your father, and Connie if you need anything you know who to dial.” You dig through your bag for your keys and look up to see your sons and their father staring at you.

“What’s the problem?” You ask, rolling your eyes and resting a hand on your hip.

“Mommy it’s cold out you should wear a sweater” Cj says, walking over to the coat rack.

“Yeah mami, you should really put on a sweater. We wouldn’t want you to catch a cold now, would we?” He asks, eyeing you from head to toe as you apply your lip gloss.

“It’s 78 degrees, you guys are doing too much” You check yourself over again and grab your keys.

“Have fun!” Connie and the boys say in unison which brings a smile to his face.

“Alright, who wants to watch scary movies and eat ice cream?!”

~~~

Connie quietly backs out of the boys room and pulls the door shut as carefully as he can.

“Finally, those boys can play all night long.” Connie mumbles to himself and turns to walk down the steps.

He stops in front of your door and stares at the shiny knob in front of him. He rubs his hand over his face and steps inside what used to be your shared bedroom and looks around.

He chuckles to himself as the memories of you two in this room take over his mind, so many nights full of laughter, tears, moans and whimpers. Nights he wishes you two can hopefully have again.

A red fabric catches his eyes and he raises an eyebrow as he squats down to retrieve the piece of cloth. He unfolds the fabric and is surprised at the sight of your skimpy panties in his hand.

He stuffs the panties into his back pocket and can’t help but fantasize about the things he’s going to do to and with the pretty underwear. He decides to leave the room now before you come home and catch him snooping.

Although that wouldn’t be such a terrible thing, he always points out how sexy you look when you’re pissed off.

He jogs down the steps and out to your back patio, he makes himself comfortable and pulls out a bag of weed and a pack of wraps.

“Now for my favorite part of the night” He says out loud, talking to nobody but himself.

He opens up the wrap and dumps the contents out into your little trash bin next to the coffee table. Connie starts focusing so hard that he doesn’t notice you stepping inside the house.

You kick your shoes off and throw your bag onto the sofa nearby, you look around the house and shake your head at the sight of him outside. You can’t help but smile at the sight, pushing down the memories trying to come back up.

“Are you going to stand there and be pretty or come and join me?” He asks, not needing to turn around to know you’re watching him.

“I’ve always hated when you do that.” You cross your arms and sit next to him on the sofa.

“Yeah you hate a lot of the things I do, how was your little date?” He says, lighting up the blunt.

“I see where Cj gets his listening problems from, it was not a date. But we had drinks, he bought me dinner and we just talked.” You shrug your shoulders and take the blunt from his hands.

“You two just talked? You’re all dressed up all pretty and you just talked.” He makes a face and nods his head as if he’s trying to understand.

You cough up some smoke when he says the word pretty and pass the blunt back to him.

“Connie, you think I’m pretty?” you ask teasingly, moving closer to where he’s seated.

“I didn’t say all that, I said you dressed up all pretty.” He pokes your nose and takes a long drag, holding the smoke in his mouth as he leans his head back.

Your eyes trail up and down his figure and you can’t up but bite your lip at the sight of his tattoos. Your body moves before you can think and you trace your finger over your favorite piece on the side of his throat.

Your name, you both were so young when he got the tattoo. He asked you for a suggestion and you jokingly said your name, but to him he wanted nothing more than to do it.

He would do absolutely anything to make you happy, in all honesty all he wants to do now is make you happy.

“If you didn’t think I was attractive you wouldn’t have gotten my name tattooed on your neck.” You say to him as you trace your finger over the red ink.

He laces his fingers with yours and rubs his thumb over the back of your hand.

“You know I think you’re the sexiest woman alive, you gave me two boys. To me you can’t get any more gorgeous than you already are, yet somehow you always do.” He kisses your knuckles and sets your hand down.

You feel your face warm up as he speaks and his compliment has you at a loss for words.

“It’s getting late so I should head back to the apartment. Ony is gonna get into my stash if I’m not quick enough” You nod your head and stand up behind him.

“I’ll lock the door behind you” you give him a small smile and he walks back inside. You follow behind him and walk towards the front door.

“Thank you for watching the boys tonight, tell Sasha I said hey” To your surprise he just chuckles dryly and rolls his eyes.

“Yeah that ended two months ago, I guess I forgot to tell you” he throws his hood on and puts his hands in his pocket and shrugs.

“Connie what the hell happened!” You slap him on the arm and wait for him to explain. He lets out a sigh in annoyance and rubs his hands down his face.

“It just didn’t work out. We fought way too much, and she kept saying crazy shit that just didn’t make sense.” He keeps his answer short to avoid diving too much into detail about the situation.

Crazy shit like what?” You cross your arms and stare at him in anticipation.

“She thinks I’m still in love with you, I told her I wasn’t anymore. She called me a fucking liar, I got mad and yelled then that was the end of it”

You’re taken aback by his statement and look around the room awkwardly. You couldn’t help but wonder if what she said was somewhat true. He gets ready to head out the front door but stops when you speak.

“Connie, are you still in love with me?” You quietly ask, walking up to him.

He freezes in his tracks and refuses to make eye contact with you. He lets the door knob go and turns to face you, leaning on the door as he looks at you.

“Why does it matter if I do or not? What’s gonna change between us if I say yes?” He pushes off the door and walks over to where you’re standing. Your stomach twirls at how close he gets to you and you twiddle with your thumbs.

“Connie…” You step as close as you can and pull him towards you by his jacket.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish mami, that’s why we got Cairo now.” He wraps an arm around your waist and stares deeply into your eyes.

You close the gap between you both and press your lips against his eagerly. He drops his bag to the floor and wraps both of his arms around your waist, pulling you in as much as he could. You push the hood off of his head and run your fingers over his hair, basking at how much it’s grown these past months.

“U-upstairs, take me to the bedroom.” You say against his lips, shrieking when he picks you up by your legs. You cover your mouth with your hand to stifle a laugh as he quickly makes his way to the bedroom, almost tripping up the steps.

“Be careful or both of us are sleeping alone tonight.” You threaten playfully and he pinches your ass in return.

“Yeah, in your wildest dreams cariña. You already got me in here and it’s gonna be hard to get me to go away this time.” He pushes you up against the door and connects your lips again. He grabs your cheeks to deepen the kiss and slides his tongue inside your mouth eagerly. His hands travel down your body slowly, and he pulls the tie open on your shirt.

You let out a sigh as your breast fall from the shirt, moaning into his mouth as his large, warm hands massage your nipples. You bite down on his bottom lip as he tugs on your nipples, he rubs over the buds to soothe the sting.

“Oh baby you’re just as gorgeous as I remember.” He pulls you off the door and lays you on your bed, looking down at you with a glint in his eyes.

“Connie don’t just stare at me, you know I get self conscious.” You whine and pull him down on top of you by his shirt.

He chuckles at your desperation and pulls his shirt off to reveal his tattoos and muscular figure, your fingers absent-mindedly gravitate towards his abdomen.

“You want to touch them baby?” He asks teasingly, taking your wrist in his hand to place on his body. You trail your hand down his body and lick over your lips.

“You know what I was thinking, mi amor?” He pushes you back on the bed completely and starts to pull your jeans off your legs.

“Now that the tattoo parlor is up and running, I think you should finally let me put some ink on you baby.” Your panties come down with your jeans and he bites his lip.

“Yeah papi? I think I’ll let you put your name on me this time.” You say, enjoying the idea of his name on your body.

His head drops down between your thighs and he nips at the skin, wrapping an arm around your thigh.

“I think imma put it here, right next to these pretty stretch marks over here.” He rubs his hands up and down your thighs ever so gently, sucking on the skin until a mark forms.

“N-no, you know I hate-” You're cut off by a tattooed hand wrapping around your throat.

“I see you’re still as hard headed as ever, huh?” He asks, picking you up and moving over to the middle of your bed.

“W-what are you doing?” You ask, looking back up at him in confusion.

“Since you still don’t listen, I’m going to have to show you how beautiful you are. Remember baby, that’s the whole reason I even put the mirror up.” He kisses your cheek and spreads your thighs apart.

“Que bonita, no?” He asks, taking two of his slender fingers to open your lips up to him.

A low groan leaves his lips at the sight of your sweet hole clenching around nothing. You let out a whine and nod at his question, he smiles and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Good job baby.” He praises, his lips leaving soft kisses down your neck.

He rewards you by sliding two of his fingers into your needy cunt slowly. You arch your back and let out a low moan. Connie takes his free hand and slaps it over your mouth.

“You wanna wake the boys up mami?” He asks, smirking at the way you clench around his fingers.

You shake your head and squeeze your eyes shut as his fingers meet with your g-spot. You feel your orgasm creeping its way up your body as you get closer.

“I remember what that face means, you gonna come on my fingers mi amor?”” He asks, speeding up the pace of his fingers, curling them upwards to draw you closer to your release.

The coil in your belly snaps and you come on his fingers quickly, throwing your head back onto his shoulder. Connie takes your cheeks in his hand and pulls you in for a deep kiss while you spasm around his fingers, he rubs your clit with his thumb and you whimper in his mouth.

“T-too much, I want to feel you inside of me. Please papi, I need it so bad.” You beg, he looks down at you and bites his lip at how whiny you sound.

“You want me to fuck you princesa? Want me to fuck you until you can’t speak, you want me to breed that sweet little pussy?” You moan at the thought of him filling you up with his cum and nod your head.

He chuckles and bends you forward so you can see the mirror, you bite your lip when his sweatpants and underwear get pulled down his legs. His cock is standing upright, the tip is red and already leaking precum.

“Watch me in the mirror, okay?” He rubs a hand down your back and you nod in return. He gives himself a few strokes before he guides himself inside your pussy.

You let out a gasp as he continues pushing himself inside, he makes sure to be slow and careful as he eases himself in.

“Holy shit baby, you’re so fucking tight. Relax for me baby, I know you remember having me in there. It’s only been a few months.” He leans down and kisses the side of your forehead.

“A-ah it’s been six months!” You let out a loud moan into the sheets below you as he bottoms out inside of you. He throws his head back in pleasure and grabs your hips, he grits his teeth as he resist the urge to immediately start pounding into you.

“Well then we have lots of catching up to do. L-let me know when you want me to move, I don’t want to hurt you.” He tells you, gently trailing his fingers up your back, needing some sort of distraction to prevent himself from fucking you like a wild animal.

“It’s okay” You lift your head up from the sheets and make eye contact with him in the mirror. He flashes you his bright smile and leans down to press a kiss to your lips. His hands make their way to your hips as his own start to form a steady rhythm. You grip the sheets as his tip kisses your cervix each time he fucks into you.

“Connie!” You gasp, your chest pressing down further into the mattress. Gripping the end of the bed like your entire life depends on it.

“Fuckkkk, missed this tight pussy so much baby girl.” He digs his nails into your skin and forces your ass back onto him. Your moans turn into whimpers as you feel your second orgasm creep up.

“‘m gonna cum papi, I'm coming.” You warn him, he picks up his thrust and rolls his hips as you come around him for the second time tonight. Your head falls down in exhaustion and you feel his hand wrap around your chin, forcing you to face the mirror.

“Is it too much baby? You know our safe word never changed?” He teases, his hips begin to pick up their pace, you cry out in pleasure the deeper he fucks into your cunt.

“N-no! I-I can ngh…I can take it.” You look at him in the mirror and he can’t help but bite his lip and tangle his hand in your hair. He’s got you flushed against his chest as he fucks you like it’s the last time he ever will.

“Yeah? You sure you can take all of me baby?” He pulls your head back more and smiles down at your fucked out expression, smashing his lips against yours passionately.

“We’ll see about that won’t we?” He pulls out of you and you whine in protest. You’re about to complain, but he quickly flips you onto your back and places each one of his arms next to your head so he’s looking down at you. You feel your face warm up at how intensely his brown eyes stare back into yours.

“I missed you.” You confess, rubbing your fingers up and down his tattooed arms.

He presses a gentle kiss to your lips and lifts one of your legs up, taking advantage of the new position and immediately pushing into you again. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist and he finds himself fucking into you again.

“I missed you so much, sweet girl, so. fucking. much.” He groans between each thrust and you arch your back in pleasure, his tip immediately finds your g-spot and you feel a warm sensation build up in your lower belly.

Connie took your legs from around his waist and pushes your thighs up to your chest. You go to let out a loud moan, but are interrupted by Connie wrapping his ringed fingers around your throat.

“I know it feels good baby, but you’re gonna wake the boys up.” He gives you an evil smirk and picks up the speed of his hips. He parts your lips with his thumb and slides it between your lips.

You wrap your lips around his thumb and look up at him with teary eyes, holding back a scream as he continues his assault on your pussy.

The sound of heavy breathing and wet skin slapping against each other fills the room. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your jaw goes slack as Connie continuously pounds into your cunt.

“Look at you, my sweet girl. No one else can ever see you like this, entiendes?” He asks, you try and respond but are too fucked out to even form a proper sentence.

Connie's fingers tighten around your throat and his thumb finds its way to your overstimulated clit, he rubs quick circles on your nub and your eyes go cross.

“I asked you a question sweetie.” He leans your face down and forces you to look at him.

“Y-yo entiendo papi, o-only belong to you. Fuck fuck! papi I’m gonna come! P-promise I’m only yours! Ah fuck” You say urgently, your pussy clenches around his dick and you feel your climax approaching. This one definitely feels stronger and more intense than the other two.

Connie lets out a loud groan as your pussy clenches around his shaft, his hips start to lose their rhythm as he gets closer to his orgasm.

“Fuck yes that’s it cariña, I wanna feel you come all over me. Give me one more baby.” He bends down and presses a hard kiss to your lips, his hips buck into yours rapidly and he can’t hold on any longer.

“Fuck Y/N, voy a venir bebe! Want me to fill that sweet pussy up and put another baby in you? Think we should try for a girl this time, don’t you think?” You nod your head desperately, and he rubs your clit with his thumb again

You bite down on his bottom lip as your final orgasm runs throughout your body. Your eyes squeeze shut and all you can see is pure white, your entire body starts convulsing. Your essence shoots out and splashes against his abs, down both of your legs, and onto the bed sheets below.

You come so hard your pussy sucks Connie in deeper and he squeezes the skin of your thighs as he comes deep inside of you. He moans against your lips and you let out a sigh as you feel his come fills you up.

“You okay? You looked like you almost passed out.” He presses his forehead against your and smiles at you while you regain consciousness.

“Y-yeah I’m okay. Also, i feel like now is a good time to tell you that Tyler is a happily married man with no interest in me at all.” You inform him and he rolls his eyes.

“Happily married men can still want to fuck you if the oppurtunity allows.” He retorts and you hold back a laugh.

“Even gay men Connie?” You raise an eyebrow and the look on his face is absolutely priceless.

“Y’know there are in fact exceptions to the rule.” He mumbles into the crook of your neck.

“I really am sorry about you and Sasha.” You run your fingers over his hair and rub his cheek with your thumb.

“Don’t sweat it, she was right in the end and I just didn’t want to admit it. I’ve loved you since we were 16, just cause we break up doesnt mean I can just give up everything.” He leans on one hand and you sit up to kiss him in response

“I love you Connie, I want you to come back home with us. No more fighting okay?” He nods and pulls you into his chest, rubbing his hands over your back.

“No more fighting baby, I promise. From now on we’ll only argue about dinner, what movie to watch, and what outfits we’ll put the boys in.” He says jokingly, you laugh at his antics and nod in return.

“If it’s okay with you, I’m gonna pull out before you get me all excited again.” He warns, you whimper at the feeling of emptiness once he pulls out of you. Your eyes widen when his fingers take the place of his dick, you look at him in shock and he feigns innocence.

“Well we wanna make sure you get pregnant, right?”

…..

“Okay Mrs. Springer, when you feel the next contraction I want you to push as hard as you can.” The doctor says and you nod your and begin to push through the pain and pressure.

“There we go baby you got it! Keep going Y/N!” Connie encourages you, holding one of your hands in both of his.

A small cry breaks out into the air and the doctor guides your baby out safely, she holds the baby up and you fall onto your back.

“It’s a girl!” Connie exclaims and instantly bursts into tears, you can’t help but also shed tears as she’s laid on your chest.

Connie places multiple kisses all over your face and looks at the new baby in front of you.

“She’s gorgeous Connie, she’s so perfect.” You sniffle and giggle when you make eye contact with the small baby.

“She sure is, she looks just like her mama. My sweet little Cecelia.” You give him a large smile and nod in agreement.

“Cecelia is perfect, my little Cece.” You giggle at the nickname and rock the small girl in your arms as she whines.

“I love you Connie.” You say, rubbing your thumb over his cheek.

“I love you more, mi vida.”

Ari

#aot smut #aot #aot x black reader #aot scenarios #aot x reader #aot imagines #aot x female reader #connie x reader smut #connie springer

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stillnotyourmusebitch · 7 months

Note

I can’t stop thinking of demon! Adam going through development and reaching the point of like,, doing something nice without anyone telling him to do it, purely for the sake of doing it. Something he never would have done before. Even if it’s something as small as sitting down with you while you’re watching your favorite movie or show and not shitting on it the whole time, just to keep you company. Or something like that. I dunno. I’m just a sucker for slow burn subtextual romance.

THAT, and the reader seeing his face beneath the mask, looking him the eyes, and smiling a little. Even if they say nothing. I feel like that would stick with him.

Exactly. Demon!Adam lives in my head rent free now. I know this weren't a request of sorts but I kinda wrote something for this

random ficlet below

Demon!Adam x GN!reader (Fluff)

DemonSinner!Adam is something that plays on my mind a lot. He still doesn’t believe in the whole redemption shit that Charlie is laying down but if it gets him a glimpse of seeing heaven again he is willing to try.

-----

Adam was bored and needed something to do that would put off the inevitable “therapy” session with Lucifer’s brat later. So that must be why he finds himself outside your room. He knocks lightly on your door. You didn’t answer, he knocked again louder this time. Still no answer. So he opens the door and peers in.

“Hey errr (Y/n) Charlie asked me to check on you.” A blatant lie but he won’t tell you that.

He sees you’re watching TV.

“Huh? What no shitty nickname this time?” You mumbled around a mouthful of popcorn. Adam walks over and flops down on the couch next to you.

“Oh yeah, nah I didn’t really feel like it.” He grabs a handful of your popcorn.

You quirk a brow.

“Also Charlie said nooo giving nicknames to people that demean them and also who don’t want it and people were given names to be used blah blah blah.” He shoves the popcorn into his mouth. “So what are we watchin?”

“I'm watching a movie I really like so if you're staying either shut up or fuck off.” You sink back into your blanket cocoon.

*10 minutes later*

“What the fuck! This guy clearly likes her but she goes for the other bozo. Is she blind . . . . as well as ya know hot.”

You choke on your drink. You didn’t think that this would be his kinda thing but here he was emotionally invested in the film you had picked. You had really wanted to just wallow in your depression by binge watching trashy romcoms but what was really making you feel better was watching the ‘dickmaster’ himself rooting for the underdog to open up about his feelings to the lead woman.

You go to grab some popcorn but see the bowl is empty.

“Gotta pause.” You go to stand but he stops you.

“I got this.” He hides the good deed by quickly saying “And I need to piss anyway.” You pass him the bowl.

“Not in the popcorn I hope.” You rearrange yourself back in your blanket burrito.

“HAA, You nasty but don’t watch without me. Coz that is a dick move.”

“You know all about those.” You mutter into the blanket. But Adam had gone to the hotel kitchen to make popcorn.

You chose to scroll on your phone until he got back. There were a few messages but you didn’t really feel like answering them. You flop on your side. You can always move when he came back.

While you waited in silence for Adam. You think back on how he really was getting better. After seeing him slowly open up to Charlie’s ideas and seeing that he can be a good guy when it suits him. You smile to yourself.

Your door slams open.

“Okay I’m back bitch.”

Nevermind looks like he has thrown up his walls again.

He lays out the armful of snacks and the bowl of popcorn that looks way bigger than the bowl he left with. He sees you on your side.

“You comfy down there?”

You groan and slowly sit up again. He sits back down but wraps an arm around you and hugs you into his side and nothing more.

“Okay we can continue now.” He grabs the popcorn and rests it on his lap.

You set the movie going again and snuggle just a little bit closer. For popcorn reasons of course not that Adam was nice and warm and you felt safe next to him.

“Clearly she don’t know a good thing when she sees it.” You pipe up after about three minutes into the film again. You had seen this film so many times but there was one scene that always brought out annoyance in you.

“Right!! She needs to open her eyes this guy clearly loves her for who they are and not some fake ass bs that other . . . what?” Adam stops mid-sentence looking down at you resting against his chest.

You blink a few times before realising you are staring “Huh oh nothing.”

You focus back on the screen in front of you.

The climatic end of the film was approaching and the main lead were confessing their love and as the credits role you can here someone crying. You glance up and see Adam wiping away tears.

“You okay.” You sit up and reach for the tissues on the table to hand them to him.

“What!!! I’m fine. Of course I’m fiiiine. Shut up bitch.” He grabs the tissue box from you.

“If it helps I cried the first time I watched this movie.” You wrap the blankets tighter around yourself.

“I . . . ah . . shit.” He saw you curling further in on yourself. He feels guilt crawling into his stomach. “Sorry, I’m . . .Ugh. Look I’m bad at these feel your feelings crap that Charlie spouts. But it was a good film and yeah I cried but . . .”

“It don’t make you any less of a man.”

“Yeeeah I know. Of course I know. I’m the first man.”

“Huh back to that are we.” You bump shoulders with him, making him laugh.

He pulls you back into his side “So what are we watching now?”

------

I really didn't mean for this to be as long as it was. I'm sorry

#jamie replies #sleeplessdreamer14 #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin adam x reader #hazbin adam #gender neutral reader #sinner!adam #adam x reader #i dunno why i'm taggin it this way #hazbin hotel x reader

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veeluvss · 11 months

Note

hii!!! hope your ok? could you write something about mom!emily and daughter!reader where reader gets pregnant(like teen pregnancy) and emily is just comforting her and helping her through it? - feel free to ignore if your not comfortable writing this!! ◡̈

hii!! i loved this request, thank you so so much! here’s the story - let me know what you think /nf

i hope you liked it !!

her smile

tw: teen pregnancy

fluff, family

2.5k words

The test in your hand shook. What the fuck were you meant to do now? This wasn’t supposed to happen, this wasn’t part of the plan. It was a silly one time thing, the condom broke, the chances - and you’d defied them all. You were seventeen, far too young for a child. You couldn’t raise a child. And god, what would your mum think?

You spent the night curled up in bed, holding your stuffed bear to your chest. Your legs were pulled up too, hiding your stomach from the world. You had a baby in there- you had to protect it at all costs. You were going to tell the dad first, thankfully you knew who it was. It wasn’t a serious thing but it wasn’t exactly a toxic thing either and you were thankful about that. You wanted to make sure he knew and he was involved every step of the way. The one thing, even only hours after finding out, you were sure of - is that you’d never get rid of your baby.

The next morning, you woke up to the smell of fresh waffles being cooked. Mum was home. Jumping out of bed, you pulled on shorts and your mums FBI jumper and headed downstairs. She’d been on a case and you’d missed her. She heard you run down the stairs and opened her arms in preparation for the hug. You wrapped your arms around her neck and your legs around her hips. She laughed, her deep belly laugh and help you tight.

“Hi my darling,” she said.

“Hi mum, I missed you,” you replied, dropping your feet but staying in her arms.

“I missed you too.” She replied. You stayed like that for a few moments, soaking it up. You don’t really know what happened, or why but you began to cry. She held you tighter, not saying a word.

“One second baby,” she whispered, as you began to smell the burning waffles. She tapped your back and you let go. Sniffling, you wiped your eyes on your sleeve.

Emily turned around with burnt waffles on a plate but still put ice cream on them. You laughed.

“Mum, you can’t eat them if they’re burnt,” you said.

“I’m not wasting them,” she replied. “These are special waffles I got from the city.”

You smiled, at her smile, and lifted yourself up onto the counter. You asked her about the case and she told you what she could. You loved hearing about her work. It was something you really wanted to do.

Your hand rubbed at your stomach, thinking of the peanut in there. You looked at your mum and thought about how you wanted the baby to be just like her - to have her smile, her laugh, her light hearted attitude. She paused, looking at you with a whimsical smile.

“What are you looking at?” she asked softly.

“Just you,” you smiled back. “I love you, mum.”

“I love you too baby,” she whispered, leaning over and kissing your cheek. “Now come eat these New York waffles.”

You spent the entire day watching movies with your mum. Curled up in her bed with her blankets and hoodie. You cuddled into her closely.

“Oh babe,” she whispered, picking up her phone.

“A case?” you sighed, looking up at her with puppy eyes.

“Yeah, love,” she hugged you tight and let you go. You blinked back the tears, trying not to show how disappointed you were.

Hours later, your mum was gone and the dad to your new baby was sitting in your kitchen. You were stalling.

“Y/n, just tell me what’s going on. I’ve been here forty five minutes now and you still haven’t got to the point-”

You sighed and slid into the seat next to him.

“I don’t want you to freaak out. No one else knows but I want you to know that I’ve made a decision and you can either decide to be here for me or not-” you began. His face twisted, almost as if he knew already. His eyes jumped down to your stomach and then back up again. Your hand moved to rest there, protecting your baby already.

“You’re not-”

“I found out yesterday,” you replied, eyes down.

“Have you confirmed it with doctors?” His voice was surprisingly calm, almost as if he was prepared.

“Not yet. I’ve only done one test,” you said. You carried on before he could speak, “but, the signs are all there. That’s why I did a test in the first place.”

“Let’s go to the store and double check and then we can book you a doctors appointment,” he said. He stood up from the chair and went to grab his jacket but you grabbed his wrist.

“Wait,” you whispered. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

He sat back down quietly and cleared his throat. Your heart was pounding in your chest. You weren’t with this guy, not seriously and this could end so badly. You knew it. He turned in his chair and took hold of your shaking, clammy hands.

“Y/N,” he began. Tears welled in your eyes. “Whatever happens, pregnant or not- I’ve had feelings for a while. It began when we started that project together and then the sex and - look I’ve been meaning to tell you. I won’t lie I hoped that was why you called me over,” he said softly. You were shocked. You didn’t know he was attached.

“What about the other girls?” you asked, referring to the other girls you thought he was sleeping with.

“There aren’t any other girls. Not anymore. I know the lads joke about it - it’s funny to them. But since I realised how much I like you… I dropped them all.”

“All of them?” you were skeptical. His lads did joke, a lot. This guy was the man slag of the school - the one who slept with everyone and he had feelings for you??

“All of them. I promise. I even deleted their numbers, the lot. I only speak to my friends and the occasional girl in my class when needed. I’m serious about you,” he paused and looked at your belly. “And the baby.”

“You want to keep it?” You questioned, almost choking on the question. His eyes went wide – assuming you didn’t from your response.

“I’ll respect anything you chose-” He spluttered. “I just, it’s mine too and that’s important to me.”

“We’re still so young,” you sighed, lowering your eyes.

“We are.” he grabbed your chin and lifted up your head gently so you were looking at him. “But let’s triple confirm the pregnancy and then we can worry then, okay?”

You nodded in agreement and slowly leaned in to kiss him. His soft tone, his gentle eyes and entire person was so comforting to you. You couldn’t help it.

It was triple confirmed. As a pair, working on making things official, you had decided to keep the baby. You knew it would break you trying to abort and with a dad who was interested, genuinely invested even, you knew the baby would be okay. You just had to tell Emily.

She’d texted you to tell you she was about an hour away from home and you began making her dinner. It was her favourite. Deep down, you knew your mum would support you no matter what but the anxiety of the reaction was insane. Your palms were sweaty, you struggled to catch your breath and you couldn’t focus on the cooking at all.

Somehow, you still managed to patch something together in time for her arrival home. She walked through the front door, replaced her heels with slippers and entered the kitchen with a wide smile on her face.

“Oh this is lovely!” she praised, seeing her favourite on the side.

“Sit down mum, I’ll get you some wine,” you replied, unable to make eyecontact. As a profiler, that gave it all away. She smiled and held up her wine glass regardless then set it down, clearing her throat.

“So my angel cake,” she said softly, addressing you in a way that made you more worried - “you’ve either been suspended, done drugs or get pregnant. What’s going on?”

You knew she was joking. She said it as a joke - a common joke parents make: ‘Oh, you’ve come to tell me your pregnant’. But it wasn’t a joke, suddenly it was real life and you were ready to throw up.

Exiting the kitchen at high speed, you crashed into the downstairs bathroom. Emily was quick to drop behind you. She held back your hair and rubbed your back and then sighed. She sat behind you, flushed the toilet and then closed the seat. She stayed close to you and your head rested on the toilet in shame. She knew, no doubt about it, she knew.

“It’s ironic when a mother’s joke becomes truth, isn’t it?” she sighed quietly. Her head rested on the door frame and her eyes ran over you. She rubbed yoru back, sighing a little more and then grabbed your hand.

“Talk to me,” she encouraged. “Tell me.”

“The condom broke,” you suddenly sobbed. “I didn’t do it on purpose and I swear it was an accident-” Emily moved and took you into her arms completely. YOu clung to your mum as if you were four years old again, letting every emotion come out. The anxiety about telling her, the anxiety about the baby. The idea of even having a baby. A new relationship you didn’t know if you were ready for. The fact you were going to be a mum. The way you were only seventeen. The tears ripped through your body but Emily held you the entire time. She didn’t let go, not once.

“I was 15 when I first got pregnant,” Emily said softly, handing you a cup of tea. “

“What?” You replied, eyes wide. Your jaw dropped. Emily smiled at the reaction. “Fifteen?”

“Fifteen.” She took a deep breath before explaining. “I lived in Rome at the time, with my mum who was working hard. I had sex with boys to fit in, being a teenager is hard, I understand that more than you know. Anyway, church and religion was a big thing. My priest said that if I abort the baby, I’m not welcome back into the church. Obviously, I was fifteen, still at school - my mum couldn’t know. I had no other choice. I ended up aborting the baby but my friends helped me back into the church-” she explained. You listened intently.

“Does it make you sad?” you asked.

“What?”

“That you didn’t keep the baby?”

“All the time. I’ll grieve for the baby for as long as I’m alive but I know I made the right choice. My body was still so young, I don’t think it would have even managed to keep a baby safe, as well as me. And then the external factors - plus,” she smiled and grabbed your hand. “If I had kept the baby, I probably never would have had you.” You blushed and lowered your head.

“Are you ashamed?” You whispered.

“I’ll never be ashamed of what I did to fit -”

“No mum,” you interrupted. “Are you ashamed of me?” You saw her heart break through her eyes and she shook her head so adamantly.

“I would never, ever be ashamed of you. Y/N I am so proud of you.”

“Proud for getting knocked up at 17?” you scoffed.

“Hey, no.” she shook her head again. “You don’t talk about yourself or my grandchild like that. Ever. What happened, happened. As you said, it was an accident. Sweetheaart, you’re seventeen. You’re exploring your body and naturally boys too. These things are bound to happen. Perhaps if you were drugged up and on alcohol and got with about five men and we didn’t know who the dad was then I’d probably be a little disappointed but never ashamed.” you began to cry again and she pulled you into a hug.

It was baby shopping day. You had a bump, a cute one that everyone found adorable. Everyone had been so supportive. The entire team adored you evern more, buying you gifts, checking up on you, helping you decorate. JJ, a mum herself, had been lovely and so supportive. Giving you remedies, tips, massages - it had been amazing. Not only had your family stepped up but your boyfriends had too. Hsi family have loved you through it all. You agreed to stay living at home with your mum. Your boyfriend planned on moving in just before the baby arrived - after his exams - so he could help. Your mum wasn’t too bothered about you finishing school this time round as she knew she had more than enough money to send you back when you were ready, even if it was from home.

Garcia and JJ turned up in the car together as you and your boyfriend stood outside the house, waiting for Emily.

“She’s meeting us there, she got a bit caught up with work,” JJ said, opening the door for you.

“She’ll definitely meet us there?” You asked, sad she wouldn’t be able to shop with you. Her opinion was the most important.

“Defiently honey, now hop in,” Garcia said. You got into the car and put on your belt. Your boyfriend sat beside you and held your hand the entire drive, knowing about your new found travel sickness.

Shopping was so succesful. You were pretty sure that between the lot of you, you’d spent over a grand but you didn’t even care. Uncle Rossi had sent money, your grandparents had sent money, everyone you knew had sent you money to put towards baby Prentiss and you were so happy. It had been one of the most amazing days in the pregnancy journey. Whilst you were exhausted from being on your feet, you were even more excited for the little one to arrive.

The baby nursery was ready a few weeks before baby was due. It was under the sea themed, perfect for you and you’re little kicker. Your boyfriend’s exams were over too and he was in the process of moving his things in. Derek had helped build the nursery and Emily hadn’t left your side.

With such a supportive group, you knew the birth of the baby was going to be easy sailing. And it was.

Emily stood on one side, your boyfriend on the other. JJ and Garcia were in the room too, as well as your boyfriend’s mum.

“So go on, tell us the name you chose,” JJ smiled - she’d been in on it since the start. Holding the bundle of pink blankets and tiny baby in your arms, you looked up at your mum with tears in your eyes.

“Mum, you’ve been there every step of the way. From the moment you adopted me at five to this very second you haven’t left my side and I’m so grateful. I’m so proud of you for putting your life of the line everyday to serve the country and bring down the bad guys. I’m so proud of how unbelievably strong you are no matter what you’ve been through. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about how incredible you are. Everyone can see that. I want my baby to have your strength, determination, huge heart and the most beautiful smile.” Tears were streaming down Emily’s face as she caressed your hair. “We decided to call her Emily Hope Prentiss.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds evolution #emily prentiss #emily prentiss head canons #emily prentiss x reader #emily #emily prentiss x child!reader #emily prentiss x child #emily prentiss x daughter!reader #emily prentiss!mum #mum!emily #teen daughter #emily prentiss x daughter #emily prentiss imagine #request #vee recs

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hxney-lemcn · 11 months

Note

i wanted to ask if you could do brett hand x gn! reader but angst? like stuff with his family and its getting worse. hope its not a bad idea

have a good night/ day hun!!

summery: reader tries to cheer Brett up. They find out just what is making Brett feel down and fluff ensues.

tw: toxic family relationships, hurt/comfort

a/n: ...teehee, so I'm pretty sure this was requested like...a year ago...uh...sorry for the late upload?? LMAO! If you're still interested here you go 💀

wc: 1.2k

Master List

I couldn’t focus on the shitty 80’s movie playing when I had Brett curled into my side. I noticed he seemed to be down at work, and offered to host a sleepover. Yes it may be childish, but after learning about Brett’s shitty family and how he never really had a childhood, I thought it would be nice.

Brett didn’t hesitate to agree. Although his demeanor was enthused, his brown eyes still showed unhappiness. Which led to our current situation. Watching classic 80’s movies and cuddling on the couch. I kept sneaking glances down towards the brunette, his eyes glued to the tv. His head rested on my chest, and my arms wrapped around his back.

At one point, his eyes started watering, which led me to pausing the movie. Clearly something was eating at him and I wasn’t gonna just watch him suffer.

“Why’d you pause-”

“What’s wrong Brett,” I said, interrupting him. I wasn’t gonna let him bat around the bush.

“N-nothing, why do you ask?” He deflected, eyes darting all over the place. He was a terrible liar.

Bringing a hand up, I ran my fingers through his hair, which made him relax almost immediately. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” I soothed. “But I don’t want you to hold it in either. You can talk to me.” He fell limp, admitting defeat as I gently scratched at his scalp.

“It’s…” He stuttered slightly. “I-its my family.” I tensed when they came up. I’ve only met them once, and it was not a pleasant meeting. I mean, Brett literally took a bullet for his brother and he’s once again on their shit list. Which I could never understand. Brett was the sweetest man I had ever met! He listened, he cared, and he’d do anything to make his friends happy…well more like anyone happy (clearly coming from his family trauma), but still! He was an absolute sweetheart.

All in all, I did not like his family. In fact, you could even say I hate them. I couldn’t tell Brett that though, as he still loved them dearly. Something they did not deserve.

“What did they do this time?” I asked, trying to keep myself from letting my distaste show in my tone.

Brett nuzzled further into the crook of my neck, “Just the usual, called me a disappointment and I never deserved to have even been considered for the 1st ranked sibling. How they don’t understand why I even bother to show my face around them anymore.”

I took deep breaths, trying to calm myself down. I know family is important, but if my parents did that, I’d be out the door and never come back. I have no clue how Brett could be strong enough to endure his parents' neglect and emotional abuse. I know his family is important to him, but there's a certain point that people should just cut ties.

“Oh Brett,” I muttered, nuzzling the top of his head. “My sweetheart. My sweet little boy.” Brett’s hold on me grew a little tighter at the nicknames, and I felt tears hit my neck, but I paid it no mind. “You deserve so much better. They should be the ones begging for your love and attention, not the other way round. You are so accomplished, loved, and overall amazing. You’re a boss at the shadow government, you’ve got a team who loves you! …in their weird little ways of course. Not to mention that you are just a caring and loving person.”

Brett sniffled, “Then why are they so mean?”

My heart churned, feeling my own eyes water at just how beaten he sounded.

“I’m not exactly sure of their history, but I assume it’s because that’s how their parents treated them,” I replied, trying to think how people could be so cold to their own children. “That and a mix of them not having the capacity to actually care for you and your siblings. When they look at you, they see a commodity, not a person.”

I winced as Brett let out a sob mixed with a whimper. Did I make it worse?

“But you’re not a commodity,” I muttered, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You’re an amazing, beautiful person who deserves the love you get and even more. I know you care for your family, but I think the best thing you can do is let them go. I mean you have a work family who do care for you, who want to see you succeed. I hope I’m not overstepping, but I feel like your family is holding you back. I know you can grow so much more if you learn that their affection and approval isn’t worth the pain and hurt. Because there are other people willing to give you that affection and approval.”

Brett let a sob escape him, his arms squeezing the life out of me, but I wasn’t gonna stop him. He was babbling things I couldn’t make out, but I think it was things of gratitude and love. I didn’t need to hear what he was saying to know that he was grateful. I was just glad I seemed to have gotten through to him.

“Th-they found someone to m-marry me off to,” He stuttered. “A-and I didn’t want to disappoint them, b-but I don’t want to marry them! I want to marry you! A-and I told them that, and that's when they started t-to insult m-me.”

My eyes widened at his bold proclamation, my hand halting its ministrations in his hair. They wanted to marry him off? I guess that wasn’t out of their reach. But he actually said no? Because he wanted to marry me?! I felt myself fluster at the thought. I couldn’t help but picture us standing at the altar, or podium, in front of the sea? Maybe in the woods? I wasn’t sure where, but a beautiful place, with us exchanging our vows of love, and then becoming wedded.

I snapped out of it when Brett’s teary eyes met mine. They were big and watery, almost like a sad puppy. He seemed to be freaking out, eyes frantically searching mine.

I cupped his jaw, brushing my thumb over his cheek, “I would be honored to marry you.”

His eyes widened, cheeks warming under my touch, a bashful smile gracing his face. A tear fell down his cheek, and I wiped it away.

“I would be honored to marry you,” Brett emphasized.

I chuckled, feeling elated, “I guess we’d be honored to marry each other.”

Brett giggled back, the brightest smile I’d ever seen on his face, “Yeah.”

Pulling his face down, I littered his face with kisses, causing his giggles to continuously fall out of his mouth. I nuzzled our noses before leaving one last kiss to his lips. He hummed in content as I wrapped my arms around his neck, the kiss being a slow, passionate, loving one.

“Do you wanna continue the movie?” I asked after we pulled apart.

Brett’s eyes were glued to my lips, “Could…we do that again…please.”

I blinked, an explosive laugh falling from my lips, “Brett this isn’t our first kiss.”

#brett hand x reader #inside job x reader #inside job #brett hand #x reader #fluff #hurt/comfort

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emhahee · 6 months

Note

Hi hi,

So like I have a question around your Hayffie headcanon’s. Because if I remember correctly you ship them? If not please ignore this.

Two questions actually

1: When do you think they went from arguing (derogatory) to bickering (affectionate)

2: What do you think happened after the war with them Book Verse v Movie Verse. (I only differentiate because a lot of people have different interpretations because of what happened with Effie book v movie)

I think the progression of Haymitch and Effie’s relationship from genuinely not being able to stand each other to making bedroom eyes at each other was a lot more gradual than what we saw as an audience. Like as readers, we only saw the last three years of the development of their relationship when they had YEARS of lore before that that we never saw. I’m sure when they first met, they were both a lot younger and Effie may not have even been an escort at that point. My guess is that they met when she was just working with the stylists, still learning the ropes, probably caught up in being a regular capitol young adult person, which probably hugely impacted their initial impressions of each other when they started having to mentor together, especially considering haymitch’s demeanor. That’s not to say Haymitch didn’t call her “sweetheart” in his Appalachian drawl just to see if he could make her blush through her makeup. Because he would, and she did. But also, for years and years before katniss and Peeta, Haymitch and Effie experienced the losses of their tributes as one. Katniss observed that each of them have different ways of coping with having to send two children to their imminent death year after year: Haymitch uses alcohol, and Effie lives in a hazy cloud of ignorance about what the games even really are, wrapping herself in the glamour and excitement leading up to the games and presumably tuning most of the event itself out. I think over the years, Haymitch and Effie certainly developed a mutual empathy for each other in this regard, because you can’t really blame someone for how they cope with unimaginable loss and suffering. But I think there was a shift in their dynamic around the time of katniss and Peetas first games, not only when they experienced the hope of having victors for the first time, but simultaneously becoming wrapped up in a rebellion. Effie was one of few constants in haymitch’s life and it is my personal belief that their feelings had been stirring for a long time but probably really took off on the victory tour. I’m sure there were nights where effie had a few too many and started sloppily confessing her feelings for Haymitch and the attendants on the train just looked the other way because it would NOT be a good look in the face of unrest and uprising to have a capitol employee fraternizing with a district citizen. But in that regard it was also 🎊forbidden🎊 which makes it so much better in my opinion. But I don’t think Haymitch would really have been able to admit his own feelings for Effie until learning she had been taken by the capitol, much like katniss wasn’t really able to know she loved peeta until he had been taken, too. And like I legitimately cannot imagine the torment Haymitch must have been experiencing at knowing someone who, on the surface, had such an innocent perception of the world being tortured for her association with him and his colleagues. I think Haymitch got home to 12 after the war, fairly soon after got a phone call, and, remembering his phone lines had been reconnected, knew exactly who was waiting on the other end of the line. And from then on it was game over. Or whatever. At least that’s how it is in my head.

#hayffie #thg #hayffie headcanon

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nctsjiho · 2 years

Text

Trust Me One More Time

genre: angst, parent!au pairing: Haechan x oc, Haechan x female!oc, idol!Haechan, ex-idol!oc cw: (bad) parenting; arguing; talks about "giving up"; this is a really heavy fic (imo) with a heavy but hard to explain plot without spoiling it all, if u read this fic, feel free to stop whenever you feel uncomfortable

This is NOT part of the same NCT addition!JiHo AU. Think of this as an alternate version of that universe or part of the imagine series I have done so far under 'writer.answers'. If you are stumbling upon my blog for the first time, this is a standalone fic u can read pretty much without knowing anything about my oc.

❀ Being new parents isn't easy. Still being able to care for his child while being an idol, Haechan can't seem to understand the mother of his child's struggles.

“Don’t cry, baby,” the new father cooed as he walked towards the cot, having just returned from work. He leaned over the bed to find his son’s restless body. Despite not being able to move much, the little baby had mustered all his strength to reach his tiny arms out once he saw his father. “What’s gotten you so upset?” Haechan asked with a pout as he brought the baby up in his arms. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

Haechan ignored the figure on the couch as he decided to retrieve a bottle of milk for his child first. When he returned to the living room he sat down on the couch, still skillfully handling the baby in his arms and started to give him his milk. “There you go,” he whispered softly before turning to the mother of his child.

“Why didn’t you feed him?”

An exhausted, emotion-filled sob left Jiho’s lips. “I tried, but he wouldn’t eat,” she told him while she still didn’t make eye contact with him.

“How long ago was that?”

“I don’t remember.”

Silence filled the rather dark room, only lit up with a small yellow-toned table lamp. It wasn’t a comforting silence. The tension between the two adults was only thickening, so much so that it seemed like Dongmin—their child—felt it as well. The 4 month year old had stopped drinking for a significant amount of time, causing Haechan to look back down at him which seemed to comfort him as he started to drink again. “So what? Were you planning to let him starve? He’s eating just fine now.”

“It wasn’t that long ago,” Jiho whispered again.

“Maybe he’s scared because you’re acting like that.”

That's where the conversation ended for the moment. Haechan finished feeding the baby and moved him to the nursery where another cot was. He waited for Dongmin to fall asleep before returning to the living room, where Jiho still sat.

“This is exactly what I mean,” he sighed and blatantly motioned over her form. “You’re sitting there like you’re straight out of a horror movie. With your hair in your face, wearing the same clothes that you’ve been wearing for a week now. Jiho!” he suddenly yelled her name, getting her to look at him. “Get a hold of yourself.”

Haechan was almost begging her at this point, he was getting tired as well.

“I tried—”

“Try harder! This isn’t just any child, this is our child.” By now, Haechan had kneeled down in front of her. “You’ve always been amazing with children. What’s different now?”

“He’s… our child.”

Haechan shook his head as if he was in disbelief and moved even closer to Jiho. He pulled her legs down off the couch away from her chest and wrapped his arms loosely around her waist. “All the more reason for you to love him. You love him don’t you?”

“He doesn’t like me.”

“It’s only been 4 months, Jiho,” he told her as his hand softly caressed her lower back. It had become a habit since during the last months of her pregnancy she always complained about her lower back and he always gave her massages for it. “You just need to spend more time with him—”

“I’m always here! Haechan, I’m the one who gave up on being an idol for this. I’ve been with him ever since—”

“You never call Dongmin by his name.”

Jiho pushed Haechan away and threw her head back in annoyance. Once she sat back straight, causing Haechan to see her face again, he could see that angry tears were running down her cheeks. “Your son hates me.”

“He’s our—”

“HE’S NOT MY CHILD!”

Those words took Haechan by surprise. In his shocked state he couldn’t even notice Dongmin starting to cry in his nursery—probably having heard the commotion from his parents. “How could you say that?”

“I had to give up everything! I stayed with him ever since he was born and did everything for him because you said we could do this. You said we would be great parents. I— I’m not a good mother, Haechan,” she confessed.

“I can’t get him to eat anymore. He won’t take bottles from me, he doesn’t even like me holding him. He cries the whole day if you aren’t here. How can I be a good mother if he doesn’t even like me?”

At this point Jiho had crashed onto her knees on the floor and started sobbing. The Jiho that was crying in front of him wasn’t the Jiho Haechan used to know. She wasn’t the girl—now woman—that he once fell in love with.

“Then try harder.”

Hearing those words, Jiho looked up at him in disbelief. Haechan was hovering over her with a hard to read expression on his face.

“What?” Her voice sounded a lot smaller than she expected it to sound.

“I’m not here to work the whole day, to provide for our son only for you to sit here and cry because you’re having a hard time feeding him. Maybe if you breastfeed him like the doctor told you to, Dongmin would trust you more.”

Confusion washed over Jiho as she didn’t expect Haechan to suddenly turn on her and sound so condescending. “What are you talking about? You knew I never wanted to breastfeed even before he was born. You knew this.”

“I want to help you Jiho, I really do. I know that we should’ve been more careful, that you put your trust in me and it’s my fault that we have a child now, but Dongmin is beautiful. He was an accident, but he’s the happiest little accident that I cannot get myself to regret. I know I broke your trust before, but ever since we found out you were pregnant I’ve never left your side. Can you please trust me again? We can do this together, okay? Isn’t that enough?”

Haechan had pulled Jiho closer to him, holding her by her forearms as he asked for her trust once again. However, Jiho started to shake her head.

“It’s not enough, Haechan. I’ve been scared ever since I found out I was pregnant. I’m still scared and you haven’t acknowledged it until now. Hell, I still don’t know if you realise it. The only reason I haven’t— the only reason I went through with it all is because it’s made you happy.”

“I—” Haechan stopped himself from speaking, feeling frustration rise in his body once again. “Let’s talk about this during dinner, okay? You order whatever you like. I’ll go check on Dongmin, we woke him up again.”

Jiho didn’t respond, but Haechan didn’t wait for a response anyway. He had already turned to go to the nursery, where he found his little boy crying once more. The baby was a bit fussy, but instantly calmed down once his father picked him up and swayed him around for a bit. “Your momma is a good person. She’s just really scared and appa hasn’t been very patient or considerate of her. Don’t tell her I said this, but I still love her very much.” Haechan chuckled a bit at how pathetic he sounded, but quickly shrugged it off. He placed a soft kiss on his son’s forehead before placing him back down in his cot. Dongmin fell asleep instantly.

Haechan took a little moment to regain himself before walking back into the living room. “Jiho,” he called out for her, but there was no response. “Jiho?” When she still didn’t answer and he couldn’t see her when peering through the door to the kitchen, Haechan decided to look through the whole house.

He checked Jiho’s room first. Haechan had never stood still by the fact that her room was pretty much empty since the first day they moved into the house. It had none of her personality and although Jiho was more of a minimalist, Haechan remembered how her dorm rooms from the time she was still an idol were filled with little trinkets. She used to always hold onto meaningful—and even meaningless—gifts from the members and fans. This room only held a bed, a dresser, a bookshelf and a chair she would read those books in.

Moving on—not forgetting to knock on the bathroom door and checking if it was empty—Haechan walked through all the rooms in the house until he reached his own bedroom. His room was right next to Dongmin’s nursery, only separated by an ensuite bathroom.

“Jiho?” He pushed the door open hoping though not expecting Jiho to be inside. As he predicted, there was no one in his room. He looked around and noticed the two pictures on his dresser. One of them was of him and Jiho while they were still coworkers. They were younger, though not by much and they seemed incredibly happy. The second picture was of them a few weeks after Dongmin was born. Haechan was the one holding Dongmin while Jiho sat next to him. She looked visibly tired in the picture, something that Haechan hadn’t noticed before. He also realised that in every picture that they have together, Haechan was always the one holding Dongmin. The only exception being the picture of when the doctor handed Jiho Dongmin when he was just born.

Returning to the living room, Haechan had dialled Jiho’s number, hoping she would pick up and explain she was just picking up some food at their favourite Thai place down the street. Something stopped him dead in his tracks though, when Haechan noticed something missing. It took him a second to clock what he had seen—or had not seen—before he set out in a panic.

The sweater he was wearing the whole day and had dropped on one of the chairs in the living room when he returned from work was missing. He walked towards the front door and Jiho’s shoes—the ones that she could slip onto easily whenever they decided to go on a quick walk—were gone. “Ji…”

With a deep, shaky exhale, Haechan slipped on his own shoes and ran towards the neighbours door. At the urgent knocks on the door a woman in her mid to late 30’s opened the door and asked what was wrong. “Mrs. Choi, please look over Dongmin for a while. He’s sleeping in his cot in the nursery.”

Mrs. Choi nodded quickly. “What’s wrong? Where is Jiho? Is everything okay?” she fired the questions as soon as she noticed something must’ve been horribly wrong.

“I don’t know, I— I’ll be back,” Haechan yelled out in a hurried stuttering mess before running down the stairs towards the street.

He started taking off to that favourite Thai place over there, only to be confronted by the sign he forgot about. Closed permanently in big black letters letters on the door. “God damnit,” Haechan cursed, turning around and starting to run the other way, not knowing where to go.

“Haechan?” A familiar voice stopped him.

With a relieved sigh, Haechan ran up to the old owner of the Thai restaurant. “Sir, have you seen Jiho?”

“Your wife?” Not having the time to correct the older man, Haechan nodded. “I’m sorry, Haechan. I haven’t seen her. Why? What’s—”

“I’m sorry! I have to go!” Haechan yelled as he hurried further down the street continuously trying to reach JiHo’s phone that she wouldn’t pick up.

Sweat was beating down his face and if he wasn’t so preoccupied with other thoughts, he would’ve thought he was close to having a heart attack with how hard his heart was beating. “Jiho!”

When he finally reached the park he frequented with Jiho and Dongmin, he stopped to catch his breath again. He took a few moments, his hands were shaking violently.

“Jiho… I— You’re an amazing mother. If there’s one thing I want you to know, then it would be that you are the bravest woman I know. You trusted me despite me giving you the life you hated. Yet you still stuck with it. You still try to take care of Dongmin despite having a hard time. If you were a bad mother— You would’ve given up by now, but you didn’t.

“I don’t deserve you, Jiho. But— Dongmin needs you. He needs a mother like you. Please… Jiho please don’t give up. I love you—”

Beep beep beep~

---

READ PART 2 HERE

S/N: idk what tag to post this under so for now I'll use jiho.writings and post it on the main writing masterlist under it's own thingy. Might be subject to change, so if u don't find it under that masterlist it will be on my main pinned masterlist.

masterlists: main masterlist || jiho.writings masterlist

#jiho.writings #nct 24th member #haechan angst #nct angst #nct imagines #nct haechan angst #haechan imagines #nct haechan imagines #nct female addition #nct dream angst #nct 127 angst #nct additions #nct added member #nct female member #nct additional member #nct addition #nct extra member #kpop!addition #kpop!oc

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cosmicmunsonwrites · 10 months

Note

hey angel, I don’t know if you take song requests but I was thinking about an imagine with jj based on the song ‘I Know You’ by Faye Webster? I’m obsessed with it 🫶

totally okay if not ml !!

i know you

pairing(s): jj maybank x reader, jj maybank x kiara carrera

warnings: its lowkey sad, jj is distant, not so happy ending??

summary: you realize part of jj will always belong to someone else.

authors note: guys. my motivation has been at zero. i hope you guys enjoy this though. thank you so much for the request!!

not edited

do not copy my works. i do not condone rewrites, translations, or edited versions. all my content is my content that i wrote.

not my gif

you’re holding me and holding back

you were laying in your bed, jj sitting beside you against your headboard. your head was resting in his lap but what really struck you the wrong way, was the fact that his ringed fingers that were typically running through your hair, were now stiff at his sides.

i don’t really care for that

so instead, you sat up beside him and sighed. he immediately turned his head to you with a raised brow. “why’d you move?”

just you

“you’re not even paying attention to me, jj,” you said, staring ahead at the movie playing on your tv.

theres a pause between every minute

his hand reached over to take yours as he stopped for a second to think. “i’m sorry, baby. i’ve just been stressed lately.”

“about what?” you questioned, not understanding his point. “you don’t tell me anything anymore.”

feelin’ like i need something

“i miss you, jj,” you admitted sadly. “i barely see you anymore, you barely come over, text me, call me, anything. it doesn’t even feel like we’re in a relationship anymore.”

it’s just you

he used his hold on your hand to pull you into him, wrapping his arms around you in a hug. “i’m sorry, angel.”

i know, i know

he said this every time. yet nothing ever truly changed. he always distanced himself from you, then randomly came back in bursts of affection.

i know, i know

you always knew this was coming. you always knew he’d run to john b or kiara, then suddenly come back to you when he needed something.

you

you were so in love with him that you knew you’d never leave him.

you

jj was it in your eyes. you weren’t too sure if he felt the same though.

i know, i know

“hey, can you look at me sweetheart.” he knew that look too well.

i know, i know

he knew exactly what was on your mind. he just felt so bad that he made you feel like that.

you

he wrapped an arm behind your shoulders, knowing it calmed you in some way.

you

he knew you were upset with him. he wanted nothing more to just fix it, to have his old relationship back… to have his old self back. like how it was when you first started dating.

i’ll quiet down if thats what you want

so here you were, at the chateau with all of your friends around you. you were cuddled into jj’s side, choosing not to engage in the conversation. he didn’t listen to you anyway.

i understand i’m not the only one

you knew he was distracted. he always was. his attention was never fully on you.

for you

it was also on kiara. you saw the way he looked at her.

so tell me what you’re looking for

you really just wished he’d come clean and tell you how he really felt.

is it a picture perfect girl for you?

you weren’t even mad. kiara was gorgeous. she was absolutely perfect in every single way imaginable.

i know, i know

you knew sooner or later he’d realize.

i know, i know

you knew he could find better with her.

you

you knew how he thought.

you

you knew he was already half there.

i know, i know

jj dug his hand into your waist, looking down at you with a worried expression. he knew you often tended to zone out. “you still with me?”

i know, i know

when you nodded, he just knew you were lying.

you

he knew you too well.

you

he knew when something was up.

i’m here regardless of the pain

as much as it hurt you to know your boyfriend was in love with someone else, you didn’t want it to end. you just wanted to be with him.

don’t ever tell me to go away from you

you prayed he wouldn’t leave you, or tell you to do that to him. you wouldn’t be able to.

when we’re old and have to leave the earth

even if something did happen, you’d never forget this.

i’ll still remember all i’ve learned from you

maybe there was some truth to remembering your first love because you knew you’d never be able to fully let jj go.

i know, i know

“hey,” the blonde said softly when he noticed you zoning out in the car again on the way to his house from the chateau. “what’s up?”

i know, i know

he just knew you too well.

you

“it’s jus’ you and me, angel. forever jus’ you and me.”

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justmeinadaze · 2 years

Text

A Toxic Lesson (Kurt X Reader)

A/N: "I introduce to you...this fucking thing." Lol @lunatictardis talked me into it. I was thinking this could be a series with a story surrounding each murder he does but that's if y'all even like this. This is kind of new for me in the sense of we are going outside of Eddie and Steve and also entering an extremely toxic relationship. Lol. God my damaged ass still wants him between my legs.

I was going to post this tomorrow but I never know how my triggers will work on the holidays so :) Here ya go.

Warnings: This does pull from the movie Spree especially the dialogue. The first passenger is a dick. I tried to bypass the worst things he says in the movie but it's still pretty evident. There is a murder and Kurt is aggressive with the reader. He definitely gaslights her. Please tread carefully if you continue reading <3

Word Count: 3105

You had known Kurt since he first moved to Azuza when you two were kids. You introduced yourself to him out on the playground when you saw him swinging my himself.

“Hi! I’m Y/N. Can I sit with you?”

“Sure. I’m Kurt!”

You sit next to him swinging your feet to match his pace. “Have you made any new friends yet?”

“You’re the first person to talk to me today.”

“It’s just cause people don’t know you yet.”

His tiny smile made your heart melt.

As the years went by nothing really felt out of the ordinary with him. Kurt was just an average, outgoing kid. He was always really animated which you loved so when he mentioned starting his own channel you thought it was a great idea. I mean, who wouldn’t love him?

The night he posted his first video to YouTube, he invited you out to celebrate.

“I’m so excited. This is going to be great and I’ll be famous and everyone will know my name!”, Kurt threw his arms up, the drink in his hand spilling a bit making you laugh.

“You deserve it. I’ll be your number one fan.”, you smile up at him.

He’s not sure if it’s the energy of the day, you always supporting him, or just the fact that you looked so beautiful in the outfit you wore out tonight but he abruptly gripped the back of your neck, bring your lips to his.

You coyly grin up at him. “Well, took you long enough!”

For the next 10 years, Kurt really did put a lot of effort into his account. He tried every bit of content that was out there from gaming to reviews. He even hooked up his phone to record people while he was driving around Spreeing. But his channel never broke into the double digits.

Over the last year his personality really began to shift from your sweet, charismatic boyfriend to a genuinely broken man.

“Hey asshole. Your girlfriend is here.” His dad guides you into Kurt’s room.

“Why do you always have to talk to him like that? What are you even doing here?”

“I came to grab my records. He’s fine. He knows I’m fucking with him. Kurt, I’m going to head out. Clean up your room at least, will you? This place is a mess.”

You glare at him as he leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. Kurt hadn’t said a word or even made an indication to address your presence. You crawled into his bed turning yourself into the big spoon as you wrapped your arms around him.

“Baby, are you ok? I’m worried. We haven’t hung out, you barely talk. You haven’t even posted a video in a while to your channel.”

“No one fucking cares about my channel.”

“I do. It makes you happy and you work so hard on it.”

He rolls on to his back and you place your head on his chest as your hand rubs up and down his stomach and sides.

“Exactly. What’s the point of me working hard if no one cares.”

You sighed frustratingly. “Kurt, I care. People care. They just need to see you like I do.”

He gets off the bed, standing up to look down at you. “What people, Y/N? NO ONE CARES! You’re just one person. How can I get a billion eyes to see me and what I have to offer?”

You get up as well, rising so your face to face with him. “I may just be one person. But I’m the one person who has ALWAYS had your back, Kurt. Honestly, you’re making me feel bad right now. Like my support isn’t valid if you’re not famous or something.”

“I am nothing! Nobody! Without a following who I am?!”

“You’re still Kurt! Jesus! Fuck these people.”

“You don’t get it.”, he hangs his head.

“You’re right I don’t. I’m sorry I’m not enough for you.” You stomped out of his room, leaving the house slightly annoyed that he didn’t come after you.

Kurt went MIA for about a month until one day he showed up at your house at 3am, banging on your door.

“Baby! I had this great idea that can make me go viral. I can finally get the recognition I deserve!”

“That’s great, Kurt. Really happy for you.” You start to shut the door but he blocks it with his hand. “Kurt, it’s 3am and frankly I’m still mad at you. You hurt me.”

“I know, Sweetheart. I know. I was just… I was just in a really low place. I didn’t know what I was saying. You’ve always been there for me from the beginning and I love you for that.” He stepped into your doorway, chest to chest with you. When he looked into your eyes, you saw something there but at the time you didn’t know what it was. “I. Love. You.”

His voice came out low and rough, making your knees weak.

“I love you to, baby.”, you sigh out a breathy moan.

When he made love to you that night, it was the best sex either of you had. Well, you two had only been with each other but usually Kurt was gently and kind of shy with his body and your own. That night he took what belonged him and left the love bites on your skin to prove it.

He started uploading videos again and it made you smile because his old personality was starting to show through again. There were moments though when he would post something that gave you pause.

“Kurt, should you be uploading videos like this? How to put poison in water bottles and hide it? I mean even if its fake what if a kid tries this.”

“Honey, its fine. It’s all a part of the lesson.”

“You haven’t told me what exactly that is and now I’m worried if it has fake stuff like this. What if someone takes it seriously and you get arrested or worse?”

He turned around in his gaming chair and leaned forward, tugging you on his lap. “Don’t worry, baby. Trust me. This will be amazing and you’ll be with me.”

“Oh, Kurt. I don’t know. You know how I feel about being on camera.”

“Y/N. This is the most important move of my professional career. I want you there.”

His words came out with sincerity but his tone was stern. Kurt wasn’t asking, he was telling you to be a part of this with him.

You watched him with a small smile as he spoke into the cameras attached to his windows.

“Actually, hold up. Real step one? Get. Your. Rig. To. Gether!”

When he leaned over you to reference the camera on your window, you giggled at him. Kurt kissed your cheek before turning back to the camera in his backseat. You loved seeing this side of him again even if it was just for the cameras. You still missed the days when he was a dork just for you. Kurt got out of the car, talking to the camera through the rear windshield.

“Hey mom!”

You shifted your body to watch him run inside the house. Kurt’s phone dinged and a female robot voice from the app he was recording from started talking.

“Y/N. Why are you still with that loser?”

You make a disgusted face at his phone. “Shut the fuck up, Bobby.”

You jump at the sound of scream coming from Kurt’s house. After a minute, Kurt closes his front door and shuffle runs to the car.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” You point towards the house. “Oh, my mom dropped something but she’s ok. Did someone say something?” He scrolls through his phone. “Hey Bobby. Oh my god. He’s so funny.”

He hooks his phone back to its dock as he starts to drive away.

####################

You guys drive for a while before a ride comes through. Kurt stops at a house to pick his new passenger Fredrick. You give him a warm smile and he does the same. Kurt lies telling the man that the cameras are for security. You sit there silently, listening to them talk. Fredrick mentions that he’s been working on speech and is headed to an event with 3,000 people.

Kurt’s eyes light up as he asks the man to tell his followers how he grew his audience to that size. Out of nowhere, Fredrick starts talking about “men like us” growing on social media.

“What do you mean ‘Men like us?’”

“White men.”

Your eyes widen as Kurt continues to face the window.

“You’re white, aren’t you?”, Fredrick asks and your boyfriend confirms.

His passenger continues to spew racist, sexist, and homophobic comments as Kurt tries to talk to him telling him how it’s “not cool”.

He suddenly presses on the breaks causing you and his ride fly forward.

“Jesus! There’s a lot of stop signs.”

“Yeah.” Kurt ducks his head, looking around. “I don’t see any cops around. Should I run through this next one?”

“Kurt, no.”, you reach for his arm.

He glances at you as he runs past the stop sign. “Geez, baby. I almost forgot you were there. You’ve been so quiet. Fredrick, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. We’ve been together for about ten years. Can you believe that?”

“Hm. Are you a snowflake as well?”

You roll your eyes at Fredrick, jumping as Kurt runs another stop sign. “The man asked you something, sweetie.”

“Kurt, stop it.”

Fredrick laughs. “I’ll take that as a yes. See Kurt, this is what I was saying. You have to keep your woman in line.”

Kurt’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. You know he hates what this guy is saying as much as you do. He takes a right turn down a deserted dirt road you don’t recognize.

“Hey, remember there’s water back there if you need it.”, he pointed towards the water bottle he had stuffed in the seat pocket.

“Kurt, what are you doing?”, you tone comes out low but forceful. You reach for his arm again but he still doesn’t acknowledge you. Instead, he leans forward turning on the radio.

Both your eyes shift to the back seat when you hear Fredrick coughing.

“Hey, are there a lot of members in your group? You should let them know you’re not going to make it.”

“That’s not funny.” Your eyes widen as his whole demeanor remains calm.

“Does this water have like a taste to it?” Fredrick starts coughing harder, taking in more water hoping it will help.

“What are you talking about? It’s just pure water!” Kurt smiles into the rearview as one of his previous videos run through your head.

“It’s perfect. Check this out. I already have bunch done.” He turns the camera lens to show a bunch of water bottles in a box.

“Oh my god, Kurt!”, you reach your hand towards the back to take Fredricks bottle but your boyfriend grabs your wrist, holding it to you as he pushes you back against the seat.

You watch in horror as the man flails in the back seat, Kurt moving his head out of the way as he continues to hold you down. After what feels like forever, everything is silent. Fredrick stops moving as his body falls and his eyes close.

His eyes flick to the back, before Kurt smiles at the camera, releasing you to grab his sunglasses and hold up a peace sign. He keeps driving until he pulls off into an abandoned area not too far from your house. You used to take him here when you were growing up when he needed to get out of house, away from his family and stress.

He moves around beside you, tapping his phone before you hear the beeping of all 5 cameras in the car turning off. You move your head meeting his eyes. He had taken off his sunglasses and threw them back in-between your seats. There was a small moment where the world stopped and you were lost in each other’s gaze. Where Kurt wasn’t the guy who just murdered someone with you in the car on camera but the small boy you met on the swing set who made you laugh.

You both opened your car doors at the same time as you sprinted away from the vehicle. He tackles you as you both tumble to the ground. Kurt’s arms wrap around from behind you, gripping your arms as he pulls you to your feet. He tugs you towards the car, throwing you against the trunk as he pinned you with his body, his hand roughly covering your mouth.

“This is what I’ve been planning. This is part of the lesson. I brought you because I wanted you to experience this with me. You said you supported me. That you would always be my number one fan.” His tone changed becoming more authoritative. “Support. Me.”

A tear escaped your eye and landed on his hand. Kurt blinked as if he was just now realizing he was pinning you down. “Oh honey, you’re shaking. I would never hurt you. Not like that.” He pointed towards his backseat. His hand slid from your mouth as his fingers caressed your cheek.

“You ARE hurting me.” You try to move your body but you can’t against his hold.

“You ran.”

“You scared me. This is scaring me. This isn’t you, Kurt. Let’s just stop this.” You look around helplessly, not noticing his eyes start to glaze over. “I can…we can bury the body. No one will find it. No one’s on the stream so no one saw and Bobby will think its fake. We can delete everything—”

His hand comes to wrap around your throat interrupting your train of thought. “People will see it. No one may be on now but they will. Bobby will tell his following and they’ll watch. They’ll see the lesson.”

Something in your own eyes causes his head to tilt as he released his hold slightly so you could speak. “You’re a fucking idiot if you think Bobby is going to help you. He has never helped you before what makes you think he will now?!”

“He’s my friend.”

“He’s a little shit you used to babysit. He’s a terrible fucking person. Why would you want to be like him?! Just because he has millions of followers? Geez, Kurt, I thought you were better than that.”

“Take it back.” You shook your head and he pressed himself further into you until his nose was hovering over yours. “He’s my friend. He’s a legend. Take. It. Back.”

“Make me.”

His lips crashed down on to yours and you deepened it, mewling at the taste of him. You pushed against his hold trying to free your arms from his grasp but he wouldn’t allow it. Kurt was in control here.

He spun you around, pressing his chest against your back. You didn’t even notice when he dropped your forearms to hastily unbuckle your belt, roughly pulling your pants and panties down. Even though you could hear his quick movements behind you, you felt like he wasn’t moving fast enough.

You needed him inside of you desperately.

Kurt breached your entranced easily, moaning at the feeling of your slick practically dripping down your legs. His body encased yours as he held you against the car, aggressively thrusting into you. His big hands were on either side of your arms on top of the trunk and you reached for them, intertwining your fingers with his.

You wanted to speak to him but you couldn’t find words. Every time his cock pushed into you your brain stopped working. All you could focus on was how good his dick felt buried inside of you. Your pussy started to tighten around him and you whined when his hips abruptly stopped moving.

Kurt’s lips hovered over your ear. “Take it back.”

You shook your head. “Fuck him.”

He began thrusting into you again, this time bringing his hand down to rub circles on your clit. You felt yourself getting close to that edge and you whimper when he stops again.

“Kurt, please.”

“Baby, I thought you loved me. I don’t like you disrespecting my friends.” He pulls out, turning you around to face him as his fingers reach down again to continue their assault on your nub.

You feel like you want to cry but you try to control it, not giving him the satisfaction. “He’s not your friend. I’M your friend. I’ve been your best friend since we were kids. I-I-I…” Kurt slides his length into you again, pumping slowly as his fingers pick up speed. He watches your face as it contorts in pain and pleasure.

When he stops again, you feel your will give. You can’t take it anymore. “I take it back.”

“What was that?”

“I said I take it back! I’m sorry, Kurt. Please, it hurts. I love you so much. I’m sorry.” You close your eyes as you continue to plead with him.

Something in the atmosphere changes as his touches become gentler. He reaches for your arms, interlocking them around his neck as he grabs your thigh, lifting your leg up to his waist.

Kurt thrusts into you again but he’s a lot less rough and more precise. The tip of his cock hitting that spot inside of you every single time. When you finally open your eyes, they are met with his gorgeous honey ones. They are much softer now and filled with love for you.

This is the man you fell in love with. You feel the coil about to snap and this time he doesn’t stop. Your body trembles in his hands as you cum hard around him. Kurt holds you against him as he chases his own high. His head falls on to your shoulder as he grunts, releasing ropes of his seed inside of you.

You reach up, brushing his hair out of his eyes when he finally leans his head up to look at you.

“Baby, trust me. This will all be worth in the end, I promise.”

You look in his earnest, hopeful eyes.

“Have you made any new friends yet?”

“You’re the first person to talk to me today.”

“It’s just cause people don’t know you yet.”

Oh, they were about to know him but no one would ever understand him or love him the way you did. After a couple of minutes, you finally nod your head.

“Ok, so what happens next?”

#joe keery #joe keery smut #kurt spree #kurt kunkle #kurt kunkle smut #dom!kurt #fan fiction #smut #spree #joe keery spree #kurt x reader #kurt kunkle x reader #kurt kunkle x y/n #kurt kunkle fanfic

385 notes · View notes

asskickedbygirl · 2 years

Note

The Johnny elevator smut was so hot omg. Can I request a smut with a fem reader where Bam’s having a bad day and he’s super frustrated so the reader kind of lets him take it out on her by having rough sex and then it’s fluffy at the end? Thank youuu

Release

[Bam Margera x F!Reader]

Desc: anon covered it!

A/n: glad you enjoyed going up!!! icl i do enjoy writing bam smut even tho this is kind of out of fic character but i do love dom x reader sometimes

warnings: smut (18+), p in v, sub/dom dynamics, use of safe word

1.9k words

⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒

“Fuck!”

You heard a yell from the yard. Looking out the window you saw Bam slamming his board down on the ground, angry expression on his face. You observed the way he kicked it and mumbled incomprehensible things under his breath, unbeknownst to the fact you were watching him from a few feet away.

Bam was already pissed given the fact some asshole MTV exec had cut an entire episode of Viva La Bam, claiming it was “too vulgar for television”, as the email stated. You had to restrain him from writing a fairly strongly worded one back which only ticked him off more, resulting in him heading outside to skate though not even that was putting his mind at ease, only enraging him even further.

‘He’s quite hot when he’s angry.’ You thought, eyes drinking in his slim frame that was littered with tattoos.

You and Bam weren’t a thing, you guys were just friends. Well, friends that had quite a bit of pent up sexual tension. The feelings were only rising, perhaps even bursting, ready to be released. Released.

Bam pushed his hair off of his forehead, panting and glaring at the ground where his board lay when he glanced up to meet your stare from the dining room window. You didn’t look away immediately, instead prolonging the eye contact a little longer, a tiny smirk playing at your lips. Bam tore his eyes away, confused on why he was flustered all of a sudden but deciding to head back inside anyways.

“Hey.” You spoke as he shut the sliding doors with vigour.

“What are you still doing here?”

How polite.

“Dico said we’re watching a movie later, no point heading home.”

“Yeah well I’m not hanging out.”

And with that, he was out the door, stomping up to his room, only enticing you to follow him.

Your fist tapped lightly at the door.

“I said I’m not hanging out.” He wasn't yelling, but it was clear he wasn’t exactly very happy either.

You opened the door despite his protests, leading Bam to glare at you as he put on a fresh shirt.

“What’s your problem?!” He spat.

“I don't think I’m the one with the problem.”

“Can't you just fuck off? I’m already pissed about those fucking assholes in suits, do you want me to be pissed at you too?!”

“Well about that.”

Bam narrowed his brows as you walked closer to him, hands behind your back.

“I have an idea.”

Bam looked you up and down, completely clueless as to what you were going to suggest but still hoping deep down it would be what his dreams entailed.

“Why don’t you take your anger out on me?”

“What like fucking yell at you or something?”

He wasn't catching on, you smirked.

“No, not exactly.”

You stepped forward, slightly closing the gap between the two of you, seductive eyes looking into his. You lifted your arms up to wrap around Bam’s neck, his breath hitching and cheeks flushing at the close contact.

“Other ways.” You whispered.

“So you want me to fuck you?”

You smiled at the frankness, moving your face closer so your lips were brushing his, just about.

“Well I know you've wanted me for a while, and I’ve wanted you too, and you’re angry. What better way to release than to fuck my brains out?”

“Are you fucking with me?” Bam’s voice was low and shaky, unsure.

You leaned in and pressed your lips into his, grabbing his chin as you did so before pulling his face away, his eyes forcing back open.

“What do you think?”

Bam slammed his lips back onto yours, his hands already grabbing at your hips to pull you flush against his body, mouths and teeth clashing the rougher he went. You let him push you onto his bed, his hands already unbuckling his belt with desperate speed.

“You want me to take everything out on you I fucking will. Take your clothes off.”

Despite your previous mannerisms of being all confident and domineering, this power shift sent vibrations down to your core, excited that Bam was already willing to take the reins and fuck you as hard as you both needed. You swiftly removed your shirt and shimmied your pants down your legs, leaving you in just your underwear. Bam had his hand down his boxers, shirtless and pumping himself to get hard, watching you splayed out on the bed for him.

“I said take your fucking clothes off.” He spat lowly, a completely new personality taking over.

It dawned on you he meant your underwear and so you slowly bent your arm around to unclasp your bra, letting it fall forward to reveal your tits.

“Hurry the fuck up.”

Bam had no intentions of enjoying this show you were putting on, instead lurching forward to rip your panties off, throwing the ruined pair on the ground and pushing his fingers inside of you with no warning.

You let out a surprised moan, jolting up to rest on your elbows as his index and middle worked in and out of you at a rapid pace, your body convulsing as it adapted to the sudden pleasure.

“Give me a safe word.” Bam said, not giving up on working you up.

Your head had lulled back, too dazed out from his movements to understand what he had said until he stopped, fingers pulling straight out of you.

“Give me a safe word or I stop.”

“Oklahoma.” is all you said before you felt Bam’s warm spit drip onto your cunt, fingers dipping into your folds.

You let out a breathy moan as he slipped inside of you once again, thumb pushing against your clit while his other hand gripped your waist to make you hold still. Your back arched as Bam’s finger began making curling upwards, hitting the spot you needed him to, your legs beginning to close.

“Keep them fucking open.”

Bam used the hand that had been holding your waist to force your thighs open, thumb pressing into the soft flesh as you continued to squirm. As you were brought closer and closer to the edge, he removed his fingers abruptly, a string of his spit and your slick coating them. You let out a disappointed whimper from the lack of contact but it was quickly hushed by Bam’s wet fingers being shoved in your mouth. You moaned against them, sucking lightly to taste yourself on them. Bam removed them shortly, kicking his boxers off and clambering on top of you, hard dick pressing into your thigh.

“You wanted me to use you right?”

You nodded, eyes looking into his with lust-filled wonder.

“Get on your hands and knees then.”

You bit your lip and complied, doggy style wasn't something you were used to but you were more than willing to partake in it if it meant hot dom Bam. Bam sat back on his knees as you moved into position, lining up with your core as soon as you were ready. He pushed into you quickly, barely giving a moment to adjust before he was slamming into you, hips snapping. He brought his hand to wrap around your throat, pulling you up by it so your ass could press firmly against him as he fucked you, the feeling still sore.

“This what you wanted? This feel fucking good?” Bam was panting, rough fucking wearing him out already.

You struggled to respond with his tight hand squeezing your throat ever so lightly but lord did he feel good. Bam let go of your neck then, your face plummeting forward into the pillows that muffled your moans. He moved his hands to your hips, grabbing them and pulling you back towards him as he continued to move his hips at the fastest pace you’d ever been fucked.

As you left your face to press into the soft linen to suppress your noises, Bam wrapped his hand in your hair, tugging you up and moving his torso forward to speak into your ear.

“I said, does this feel good?” He whispered sternly, the low voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Y- Yes.” You whined out, mind fogging from the pleasure.

“Fucked out already.” He laughed almost sadistically, hips not letting up as he dropped your hair, pushing the side of your face into the mattress.

“Fuck those fucking fuckers in suits.” He babbled incoherently, laying out all of his frustrations onto you as he fucked you.

“Do you want my cum inside of you?”

Your face was being held down by Bam’s strong hand but you could hear his question still. You nodded, eyes screwed shut, nearing your orgasm as well.

“Fucking come for me first then. Need to feel that cunt tighten.”

You moaned as the vulgar words poured from his mouth, his fingers wrapping around to attack your clit. You lifted your head from where Bam had shoved you down after his hand moved, stifling your moans with the back of your own hand.

“No, no. Lemme hear you. It turns me on.” Bam grasped your hair again, pulling you up to force you to let out your noises.

You were at the edge almost immediately what with Bam’s fingers moving at such a vigorous pace.

“I’m gonna come.” You exclaimed in a moan, eyes beginning to water.

Bam responded with nothing, only fucking you harder as you came around him, letting out the most pornographic moan you had ever heard yourself release, tears running down your cheek.

“Fuck yeah. You’re so fucking tight.”

Bam’s hand dropped from your core but his fucking never let up. In fact, his free hand could now resume its place on your hips, allowing him to shove you back on his cock even harder. You were insanely sensitive given the fact you had came just seconds previous and Bam’s speed was becoming too much to bear.

“Bam, slow- slow down.” You whimpered as he let go of your hair, head lulling forward.

“What was that? I can't hear you.” Bam mocked, clearly no sympathy to be had.

“It’s too much. Please just-”

“Safe word or I keep going.”

You paused. Although the overstimulation was hard to deal with, nothing in you wanted Bam to stop his movements and so you stayed silent.

“That's what I thought. Take it like a slut.”

Despite his cocky remarks, Bam’s hips were beginning to stutter and his thrusts were at a more erratic pace. He was close.

“Gonna come in your pretty little cunt. You want that?”

You nodded through moans as the overstimulation turned to just stimulation. Bam squeezed your hips tightly, his thumbs sure to leave bruises as he dragged you down all the way, burying himself deep inside of you as he came with a load groan. You whimpered as you felt him release, finally release.

Bam pulled out of you shortly after but still held you up, bending down to examine his cum that started to leak out of you.

“Fucking beautiful.” He whispered as he pushed a finger inside of you again before you swatted your hand back.

“Enough, jesus enough.”

Bam laughed and complied, letting your body drop to lie on your side, your cheeks a bright red. He smiled as he moved closer to your face, planting a kiss on your lips.

“You good? I didn't go too far or anything did I?”

You shook your head, kissing him back.

“Just what I wanted. You feel better?”

He nodded back, wiping the wetness off your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

“Gotta do that more often.” He grinned and so did you.

End.

@gnarkillknoxville @steve-osahottie @izzaaaaaa @jackassvivalabam03 @bambammargera @spoookyberry @jackussy420 @lovexjoe

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prairiedust · 10 months

Text

one thousand days of destiel, or cas: fuckerupper of endings

Idk why I’m crawling out from under my woodpile to write this, except that it occurred to me that in three years I’ve not rewatched a single episode of Supernatural and have at least two dozen tags yet blacklisted on tumblr, and that I am still not okay about this stupid show.

I never tried to tie up the folklore/author themes I’d been geeking out about through the last seasons, neither as the show was ending nor afterwards. I’ve been simmering now for over a thousand days. I could not even write a complete sentence about spn for all this time, and so I just left that pot on the back burner and did other things. Finished my Master’s degree. Started a new job. Saw my oldest child graduate from high school and move off to college, and helped my younger child move on to sixth grade. Watched some other shows, got a new blorbo, saw some movies, started painting again, picked up a couple of new hobbies as I am wont to do.

Today is the 5th of November, 2023. (ETA i sat on this for a bit.)

November 5th, 2020, was exactly one thousand and ninety-five days ago.

I see gifs from the show from time to time and I think to myself, wow, that scene/episode/series is completely irrelevant to my life now. I am fine and normal about everything. But if it really was, if I really was, it would not hurt so much to see the gifs and the lyric posts and the amvs when they aren’t caught in my tag filters. So maybe it’s time to get some things out of my head and onto paper.

I genuinely, nearsightedly, naively thought that since Dabb et al had been the ones writing the whole folk v author themes, and thus posing as someone we could count as being on “our side,” the folk-side of the postmodern audience, they’d honor that conceit, even to the very last shot.

They did not.

And yet… they absolutely did.

Which hurts and is fucked up, but also it’s fine. It’s fine.

In the end, the only “folk hero” (by which I mean the only force in the spn universe capable of warping the threads of the story with any permanence) was Castiel. When Castiel left the story (of his own volition, if you can find a comfortable layer of this meta pie for that concept to rest in,) the writers reverted to God Mode. Because Castiel had been their freedom, their mouthpiece, their avenue for improvisation, and so at the end of the series…

well, we got You changed me/I love you

•

and then we got “Cas helped.”

So much has been written about that pivot point, but genuinely I don’t give a rat’s ass about rewrites, producers, the cutting room floor, or COVID. It exhausts me, and I’m not beholden to writing about spn for grades or notes or any kind of other bullshit that would oblige me to do research.

I feel like… we got what we got.

So let’s criticize some media.

The Paradox:

Cas imploded— went from flexing the narrative from within to being narrated by a force from without. And I couldn’t bear to wrap my head around that for a long time. It seemed that this “twist” was beyond cruel. That’s what he got. Vanished and nerfed. For saying ily. That was what happened when he was finally in focus, fully revealed. He lost. He was relegated, along with Jack, to become heaven’s Two Men and a Truck.

It was a trick, the whole “Chuck is a writer” plotline. The Author regained control of the character that had previously been acting independently. Very Pirandellesque, very frustrating, ultimately even tragic.

So, yes, thematically and critically, having Castiel give up his Agency for Characterhood– giving up his ability to create plot for a role as a character in a plot— was ‘literary’ brilliance. It cemented his status as a grand fucker-upper of the show in a way that any show writer “authoring” a requited destiel ending would not and could not have done. Even Jack, I believe, had been “manipulated” into god-hood from within the narrative. Jack was Dabb’s grand metaphor, he was a product of Author. Castiel was… well, he was a chaos engine from the moment he walked through those barn doors.

To seal the metaphor, the writers ended up living that truth.

I really don’t know if I’m being cogent about this. I’ve been struggling to turn this idea into words for, like, ONE THOUSAND DAYS.

The folk-vs-Author themes becoming A Thing in The Supernatural Show was like a chemical reaction: once the ions had bonded, the resultant compound could not be separated back into the different materials. What on that screen was Author, what was “author,” ie show writer, and what was text-experiencer-as-author? Where did the Sam-as-magician arc go, what were we supposed to do with the semi-metatextual moments that Mary had, having been brought back into the narrative by Amara, not Chuck? Everything got so out of control. Add in a smidgen of secret-sauce-TPTB possibly superseding the author/Author, and what you get is that ridiculous mess of a final two episodes.

It’s not about the rusty trombone or the butt hole pleasures. It’s about love. And kids.

Thank you, hon. It really is. (The above line was left in this doc by my spouse. It is a quote from The 40-Year-Old Virgin. I’ll allow it.)

Anyway. It was hard to see past the sound and the fury of it all.

*****

I was feeling nostalgic several months ago and took a swim in my old meta tags; I found a gem from season…10? Idk and idc, but it was from “The Things We Left Behind.”

I compared Claire to Sleeping Beauty (a tale that got a lot of use in later seasons) and wrote: “I tend to think that Castiel’s entire arc is about desperate and unintentionally misguided attempts to Change The Ending of whatever story he’s shown up in” and reading that again really kind of sucker-punched me.

‘We’re making it up as we go’ was the crux of Cas’ existence. Remember that half-related story in Baby wherein Cas got himself hitched to the Djinn queen? Remember when Jack died and the Empty came to claim him in Heaven and Cas made that terrible bargain? The last-minute attempt to gank Lucifer that actually got him killed and sent to The Empty?

Time and time again, Castiel’s go-to for “changing the narrative,” for advancing his plot, is self-sacrifice. In Chuck’s house against the archangel. The Leviathan disaster. Saying ‘yes’ to Lucifer. The Bargain for Jack in Heaven. And those times it worked out. Not without great pain for both the other characters and for the viewers, but he always came back.

And with each return, his motivation became clearer. (Picture your favorite screencap of Dean here.)

Cas’ love grew, crystalized, and then disappeared, like frost on the windowpane of a house on fire.

If they had continued the CasDean storyline, it would have ultimately been The Author IRL writing/creating/manifesting/materializing ‘destiel.’ And so by putting a torch to all of that architecture, they essentially gave everything to us. Unspoilt. Fingerprints wiped. Serial numbers scratched away. Jailbroken. Whatever floats your boat.

The confession was both affirmation and abnegation. Symbolically, The AuthorTM had washed his hands of it, but with destiel out of the picture, The Author also got his ending.

This is why “Cas helped” felt like a ‘fuck you.’ If Cas was out of the narrative, why did he come back as one of Heaven’s real estate developers? It did not fit.

And yet. It did. Because Chuck won. Chuck, or everything that an Author represents in television land– TPTB, showrunner legacies, multiple producers, a chaotic and treacherous and politically messy writer’s room, multiple incompatible or unresolvable MOs and visions— all that ends up being packaged and presented as a single unerring vision.

So I have to admit, although I don’t have to do it with any ion of grace, that in the end it was pretty fucking smart.

Destiel is ours. Destiel is the folk ending. The Author never got to touch it, never so much as breathed on it, was so far divorced from the concept that the absence thereof going forward hit us like a truck full of bricks.

Yes, it hurts that Dean was just left on the floor until the credits rolled, that there were no final words, no ensuing acknowledgement.

I’ll go so far outside the Text as to address the ‘Dean can’t reciprocate’ direction from one of the scripts:

If Dean had made a single move onscreen. Uttered a word. In Despair or either of the other two episodes.

Destiel would have been claimed by The Author.

Anyway. I’ve been collecting posts now and again under the tag ‘the endless folklore of supernatural.’ For three years, the fandom has continued to loot, to ransack, to graffiti, to create and re-create, to burn, to mix, and to distill.

There’s all kinds of things in that tag, it’s sort of a kitchen sink of everything that I thought was even tangentially relevant to folk-Destiel and the postmodern experience of creating text as a reader/viewer etc.

We turned a literary story based on an urban folktale back into folklore.

And so it goes.

I doubt I will do much more analysis of this show, even if it comes back, and I unfortunately can’t touch The Winchesters. But I can’t say I never will. I just thought three years, one thousand days, was a pretty good place to leave a marker on the trail.

—

Epilogue: About The Winchesters:

I did not finish watching The Winchesters because of something wildly, randomly, but highly personally triggering that was built into one of the episodes; however I am very sorry that it was canceled or possibly ironically lost to the WGA-SAGAFTRA strike of 2023.

“What is the maddest thing a man can do? Let himself die.” That’s the clue that leads Castiel to his hidden grace in a copy of The Man of LaMancha in 10.18 ‘The Book of the Damned,’ written by one Robbie Thompson.

I noticed from the get-go that Thompson gave Carlos the last name Cervantez. He was nodding to the self-immolation of the last cadre of writers of Supernatural and stating clearly that he was holding a pen, not a match.

Want some very fun and amusing and wildly pertinent facts about the Don Quixote books?

The narrative conceit of Don Quixote IN THE FIRST PLACE LOL is that Cervantes claims to have found a manuscript by a historian named Cide Hamete Benegeli and Cervantes thought the story was pretty neat, if a little rough; Cervantes retells the story for us from what he’d read by that author, distilling the “original” into the book we experience as Don Quixote the Man of La Mancha.

The final words of Cervantes’ Part One are “perhaps another will sing with a better pick.”

Later, someone publishing under the pseudonym Alonso Fernandez de Avellaneda wrote their own part two, feeling that the original author was taking too long to get their ass in gear (or judging by their own preface they felt that Cervantes had not even done the original story justice in the first place. Which is A Mood.)

So when someone actually did have the audacity to run off with his characters and commit word crimes with them, Cervantes absolutely obliterated the dude in his own Part Two.

Thompson left Spn after season eleven. But, lest someone think this is a commentary about fan fic, he also wrote the episode Fan Fiction. So anyway all the Cervantez-Cervantes business was certainly something.

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pedrito-friskito · 2 years

Text

the warrior and the witch - part three

summary: pero comes home, and you both get more than you bargained for.

warnings: magic, canon-typical violence, maybe a bit of not-canon-typical violence, blood, descriptions of assault (a forced kiss only), NO SMUT HERE (who is she we don’t know), but some angst and some yearning and even a bit of fluff

a/n: oh my GOD. full disclosure: this is not exactly the way I envisioned the ending when I came up with this idea, but I kind of love it. maybe a little OOC for Pero (based on the movie) but pretty in-line with the world I’ve created for him and his witch here. and honestly…I don’t think I’m done with these two. gotta focus on the rest of my autumn adventures, but there will definitely be more of the warrior and the witch at some point!

PART ONE | PART TWO 🍂kay’s autumn adventures🍂

Your mouth tastes of copper. Wet and thick, coating your teeth and tongue. Not the best sign.

It’s blood, obviously, and your head feels heavy, a weight on your shoulders like you’ve never felt before. Slowly, you blink your eyes open, sucking down a breath that rattles your lungs. Your hands are bound in front of you, your legs parted around the saddle of a horse you do not recognize.

And pressed behind you, an unfamiliar body.

Unfamiliar until it speaks.

“Ah, welcome back, witch.” Farrell sneers the words in your ear, his chest pressed to your back, a heavy arm wrapped around your waist while the other holds the horse’s reins. The tone in his voice sends a chill down your spine, revulsion pooling in your gut as his hot breath blows on your ear. “I wondered how long it would take you to wake.”

You slip slightly in the saddle, your torso pitching sideways, and you close your eyes as you wait to fall, but Farrell doesn’t allow it. His grip on you goes tighter, pulling you nearer to his sweaty form.

“Where d’you think you’re going, huh?”

You turn your head as much as the pain will allow, spiking along your cheeks and jaw as you try to even out your breathing. Your chest wheezes with the effort, and the memories come sweeping back into your mind.

The cottage, ransacked. The holding circle etched into your bedroom floor. Farrell’s drunk grin and the axe on his shoulder. He’d hit you over and over again, until your legs gave out and you sank to the floor. Then he’d bound your hands, the rope chafing harshly against your skin, making you feel weaker in an instant. How was that possible? What had he done?

Gods above, what had he found out?

With you bound, he’d carried you from the cottage, dumped you in the garden, and headed back inside. You could only watch as the walls started to shake, as the sound of an axe hitting home over and over again reached your ears. You could only lie there, blood on your lips and rage in your gut as the flames started to rise, pouring through the broken windows, licking over the thatched roof, burning away any trace of your life. Of Pero’s life.

Pero’s voice echoed in your head. Our life.

Gone. Turned to ash.

Farrell made you watch, lain in the dirt, his foot on your back to keep you pressed to the earth. You tried to summon your magic, tried to bring some kind of help to the surface, but it escaped you. There was something in the rope binding you, something else that had been added to that holding circle, something that was keeping your magic far beyond your reach.

The rage turned to terror. Lena and Tomas would wonder where you’d gone to, and as Farrell loaded you onto the saddle, turned the mare towards the forest behind the cottage as the smoke billowed high, as the roof started to collapse under the weight of the heat and the frailty of the flames, you knew there was little chance they would find you. That anyone would.

Now, you blink your eyes hard, trying to wash away the strange feeling of sleep and the heaviness of your pain. You’re still in the forest, no path before you or behind you, the trees on either side a broad expanse that blurs together when you watch for too long. Behind you, Farrell pants in your ear, the feeling of him pressed against you making your whole body want to recoil, but the pain keeping you in place. It hurts to move, aches to even attempt to speak.

But then Farrell keeps talking, and your heart sinks.

“There are lots of others like you out in the world, you know? I’m sure you do, clever little bitch that you are. I’m sure you’ve got friends in all corners of the world, awful women like you that would help you at the drop of a hat. What do they call it? A coven?”

My coven is long gone, you want to say, but you stay silent. My sisters are all long dead, killed by the likes of you. I fled to keep myself safe, found that cottage a safe haven for the likes of me. And then I found him. But he’s gone now. I’m gone now.

Does Pero still live? Lena’s words echo in your mind: he will come back to you. You wish you believed it. You wish you knew he still lived. Your spell of protection had been near perfect, the strongest you’d ever cast on the ring you bore to him before he left. It would keep him safe, but the doubt still lingered.

Farrell just keeps talking.

“You have been a plague on our village. With your sinful face and your ungodly temptation. You never should have stayed, witch. You should have left long ago. And I cannot bear it any longer. I cannot live with the temptation that you offer. Not when I cannot have you for myself.”

Bile rises in the back of your throat. Oh. So that’s the source, the reason for his blind hatred. It doesn’t answer for the rest of the people in the village who have treated you similarly, but you don’t doubt that Farrell has had his hand in it, preaching your awfulness to anyone who would listen, rallying anyone he could to join the cause.

Not that it matters anymore.

You continue deeper into the forest, and after another hour or so, Farrell halts the horse and wrenches you down from the saddle. “You wait here,” he tells you, and a strange sort of shock ripples down your legs. Once again, you cannot move.

You look down at your binds. Squinting down at the ropes, you see more runes, like the holding circle, some familiar and others not. You try your damndest to move your feet, throwing your body in the opposite direction you’ve travelled, but you don’t move an inch.

The realization settles over you. Obedience. You’d heard rumours, long ago. Witches who had defected against their covens, revolted against their own kind. They worked to find ways to enslave, to keep magic under someone’s control, but not the witch themselves. It seems they have been successful. How Farrell managed to find the information, you’re still not sure, but none of it really matters, in the grand scheme.

All that matters is that you get away, that you try to make your way back, that you find Pero.

You realize: Pero may come back, but what will he find? Your home, burned to the ground; you, nothing but a mark in the earth and trail of blood deep into the woods. You turn your head and spit into the earth, the saliva and blood in your mouth too much.

Wait.

Blood.

Your cloak is still draped around you, and Farrell had clearly not been clever enough to check your pockets. One of Pero’s knives lays at the bottom of one, and, carefully as you can, trying to make it look as though you’re not moving at all, you reach for it.

It’s sharp as anything, a result of Tomas’s handiwork, and all it takes is a slight press of your thumb against the blade to slice your skin. You wince, the pain harsh, worse to bear without your magic to ebb it.

Farrell reappears, and you school your face into nothingness, holding your hands in front of you, your injured thumb tucked inside your knuckles. You can feel the blood pooling in your palm, and you press your lips together, trying to hide the pain as best as you can.

He fastens a length of rope to your wrists, just below the binds. “You’ll walk the rest of the way,” he commands, that strange feeling moving through you once more. “If you fall, I will drag you.”

You stare at his large back as he mounts the mare, flicking the reins and ushering the horse forward, deeper into the night. The howl of a wolf makes your ears prick, and you wait until he’s focused on the path ahead, not glancing back at you. Slowly, you veer your steps sideways, your knees aching with every step, until you’re closer to the tree line. Once a trunk is within reach, you splay your hand wide, leaving a bloody handprint on the trunk. A path, a trail of breadcrumbs, something to lead the way to wherever it is your captor is taking you.

Now, all you can do is hope that someone finds it.

The path down the mountain had been treacherous. He’d buried William as best he could, working through the only slightly ebbed pain in his body, muttering a few words as a fond farewell to his friend. His own horse had been taken by the mercenaries that had attacked, but he found William’s further down the mountain, the smaller beast spooked and starving. He’d calmed the horse as best he could, finding a nearby stream for them to drink from, for Pero to clean the blood from his body, to try and figure his path back home.

He still had his swords, but little else. There was a village, once he’d passed through on the way to meet William, and when he stops there for supplies, he realizes his money pouch is gone. Desperate, he sells one of his swords to the smithy in town, uses the money to buy a new cloak and some food, fix the bridle on the horse.

And that’s when he finds it.

The shop is filled with people, and in the corner, he hears two men talking lowly. It’s hard to make out their voices, but he catches a few words.

Witch. Problem. Dark magic. Solution. Obedience.

“You have a witch problem?” Pero asks, his voice loud, catching the men’s attention. Both their heads lift, and one of them has a sickening smile on his face.

“Not anymore, lad,” he answers, crossing his arms over his chest. “Took care of the bitch just last week. The king’s been sending folks all over with solutions for the problem. Ways to bind them, make them obedient, keep them at bay. It’s a miracle, really.”

Pero’s vision goes red. “You don’t say.”

The man just nods, smug as anything. “Yep! Poor bloke was in here just last week from a village a few days’ ride from here. Said he had a problem to take care of and his village hadn’t gotten anything yet, so I let him have what we had left. I hope it worked.”

“What was the man’s name?” Pero asks, trying desperately to keep his voice as calm as possible. His hand flexes for his sword, but he resists.

The man narrows his eyes at him. “Why d’you ask?”

That’s it.

“Tell me his name!” Pero shouts, and his sword makes a satisfying noise as he unsheathes it, tossing it in the air and catching it by the handle, holding the point directly at the man’s throat. “Now.”

“Farrell!” the man cries, his face going bright red, eyes bulging out of his face. Pero presses harder. “He said his name was Farrell! Big bloke, liked his ale, said he needed help! I was just tryna be a good neighbour!”

Content with the answer, Pero storms from the shop, moving faster than his aching body wants, but he doesn’t care. He has to get back. Now. He swings himself into the saddle, the horse nickering at him as he flicks the reins, a loud hyah! echoing through the village as the horse surges forward.

He’s made it halfway back to your village when he spies the black ball of fur, and it’s the only thing that stops him, distracting him from the path ahead.

“Soot?” he calls, his voice soft as anything. He pulls tight on the horse’s reins, urging the animal to a halt, and slides from the saddle. The cat looks more than worse for wear, his little paws raw, a chunk missing from his ear, blood on his maw. “Gods, what happened to you?” he asks, breathing a sigh when the cat lets him scoops his little body up. Carefully, he gets back into the saddle, and the cat makes a home in Pero’s shirt, burrowing against his warmth. This is not a good sign. If Soot is all the way out here, then…

Where are you? What happened to you?

He travels through the night, half-expecting the horse to give him a hard time, but the beast seems to sense the urgency, kicking up dust as he powers on, making better time than Pero had on his journey to William. The stretch that should take three days is done in a day and a half, Pero barely stopping, save to feed himself and the horse, trying to tend to Soot as best he can, catching a fish in a nearby pond for the cat to eat.

It’s nearly nightfall by the time he makes his way into your village. The square is full of people, despite the late hour, and Lena spots him before he sees her, shouting his name across the fountain.

“Pero!”

He pushes his way through the crowds, the horse’s head bouncing as he goes, nudging people’s shoulders until they move out of the way. “Lena.”

“Gods, where have you been?” she asks, and he slides from the saddle, careful not to jostle the cat in his shirt. As soon as he’s close enough, the woman throws her arms around him, squeezing him tight, making Soot yelp against his chest. “Oh.”

“He met me halfway,” Pero explains, and the cat perks up when he spots Lena, a spark of energy making him climb up onto Pero’s shoulders. “I heard something, in another village. They’re hunting witches, and Farrell—”

“She’s gone,” Lena bursts out, and Pero’s heart sinks into his toes. “We’ve been looking for her for days now. The cottage was burned down, but there was no trace of a body. She has to be alive somewhere, but I…” Your friend trails off, shaking her head. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Where is Farrell?” Pero asks, his voice gravelly. Finding Soot was one thing, but hearing it firsthand is another entirely. “Lena, where is he?!”

“I don’t know!” she shouts, tears falling down her cheeks. “We’ve been trying to find her, I just—”

Tomas appears out of nowhere, pushing through the crowd, and grabs Pero’s shoulder. “Come inside the shop,” he says, eyes darting around the square. “Now.”

Pulling the horse behind him, Pero obeys. Soot leaps off his shoulder and into the horse’s saddle, and Lena takes the beast to the stable behind the smithy while Tomas leads Pero inside. The shop is dark, the hearth the only source of light that Pero can see.

On the table lies a brilliant sword, perfectly shined, and he can tell just by looking at it, incredibly sharp. He’d traded his straight blade back in the other village, favouring his curved sword, but this would make a fine replacement.

“Take it,” Tomas says, stepping around the table, reaching into a cabinet and procuring a bow and a sheath of arrows. “It’s yours.”

“What?” Pero asks, incredulous. “What are you…?”

Tomas slings the sheath around his shoulder, the bow following suit. “We’re going to find her.”

Pero nearly stumbles back. He’s stricken, for a moment, the man before him a mirror image of the good friend he’d lost, the friend who had given him his life, therefore giving him you. And now, Tomas, a new friend, a wary friend by any stretch, helping him get it all back.

“You have children, Tomas,” Pero tries to reason, reaching for the sword, removing his empty sheath to replace it with the new one. “I cannot ask you to—”

“What kind of father would I be if I didn’t set the right example?” the man replies, and Pero can only grin back.

They meet Lena around the back of the shop, Pero’s horse still saddled and Tomas’s freshly so. Soot leaps onto his shoulder again as Pero mounts, and he glances back to see Lena grabbing Tomas’s face, pulling him into a deep kiss before she presses his forehead to hers. “Save her,” she says, “and come home.”

Tomas simply nods before getting into his own saddle, nodding at Pero. “Let’s go.”

His horse keeps his speed even after the brief stop, and Tomas’s keeps pace. It’s a quick ride to where the cottage once lay, and Pero nearly topples from the saddle when he sees the burned remains. He tosses his reins to Tomas, sprinting for the smouldering pile. It’s all burned wood and shattered glass and books turned to ash. He can’t stop himself from picking through it, trying to find anything that might still be intact, remembering Lena’s words that they hadn’t found a body, but praying to the Gods all the same that he doesn’t find you among the rubble.

He doesn’t, but he does find something else. A long silver chain, a ring similar to the one hanging around his own neck strung on it. The memory surfaces; you’d worn it whenever you left the cottage, carrying it with you into the village for protection. He’d never asked about it, never put it together when you gave him his own, just accepted it for what it was. Accepted you for what you were.

What you are.

Soot leaps from his shoulder when he rounds the back of where the cottage once stood, his head cocked to the side, tail sticking straight up. “What is it?” Pero calls, as if the creature will answer. The cat walks forward, pawing through the grass until he reaches the edge of the forest, then he pauses, looks over his shoulder, and meows loudly at Pero. Not English, but he takes the meaning all the same.

In there.

They leave the horses in the pasture beside the cottage. The gate is still intact, and Pero is surprised to see your mare still walking the green. She’s wary of the other horses, sniffing at Pero’s new horse carefully, but neighs lowly at Pero, leaning into his palm when he pets her nose.

“I know, girl,” he murmurs, “I’m going to find her.”

The moon is the only source of light as they step into the forest. Tomas wonders if they should light a torch, but Pero refuses. “It might be a trap,” he says, and his new friend nods. “We need to be careful.”

Soot leads the way, the tiny black silhouette of him disappearing every once in a while when the moon cannot break through the trees. It feels like hours, every bone in Pero’s body aching in protest, but he does not care. He has to find you, he doesn’t care what it costs. Any pain is bearable, losing you is not.

Then he sees it.

The bark of a tree, scraped away to show the solid wood beneath, and there, dried and dark, but there all the same, is a handprint. Soot paws at the tree, and Pero sniffs at the mark. “Blood,” he tells Tomas, his brow pulling down. “It’s blood.”

Soot disappears deeper into the forest, and they find him again at another tree, another handprint pressed into the bark. Then another, and another, all bearing the same park, the same hand.

“A trail,” Tomas murmurs. “She left a trail.”

It has to be you. At first, Pero is doubtful, only half-convinced by the black cat leading him deep into the forest, but as they continue down the unseen path, that thing that has taken up residence in his chest since the witch first spoke of you, doubled when he first laid eyes on you, blinks awake, stretching across his ribs, pushing him forward. Find her, find her, find her, it chants, and Pero’s hands curl into fists as he steps.

The moon hangs high overhead, the light pouring through the trees, spotting their path witch patches of white, and Pero just keeps going. following the feeling in his chest. Tomas trails slightly behind, and Soot leads the way still, his tail pointed straight up, ears twitching as he goes.

Finally — finally — they come upon something other than trees. But it does not help Pero’s unease, not by a long shot.

Beyond the last of the trees lies a clearing. Moonlight pours over the entire space, the grass stained grey with the power of it. A tent stands in one corner of the clearing, a small fire built before it. An unfamiliar horse is tied to a tree near the tent, the beast folded up on the grass, asleep. On the other side of the clearing, a large metal stake driven into the earth, and hanging off the stake…

You. Your hands bound before you, your face bruised and your lips covered in blood, your dress hanging off of you in tatters, revealing more broken skin beneath. Just as it had in the other village, Pero’s vision goes red, and he moves to surge forward, but Tomas stops him, grabbing his shoulder.

“Not yet,” he whispers harshly, pulling Pero back. “We don’t know what sort of weapons he’s got with him.”

Pero nods, but he cannot tear his eyes from you. His chest aches, begging him to move forward, that thing encircling his heart trying it’s damndest to push him forward. He wants to run to you, to cut your binds away and carry you away from this place, far from it all, until he finds a place where he knows you’re safe, knows no harm will befall you.

He never should have left.

The guilt eats at him instantly, roiling around in his stomach and forming a heavy weight, but he tries to cast the feeling aside. Now is not the time.

They lay in wait for a while, waiting to see if Farrell will step out of the tent. He can see the flicker of light from within, casting shadows on the canvas walls. Pero’s hands itch to reach for his swords, but Tomas is right. They do not know what sort of threat Farrell stands to be, not yet. And from the looks of you, whatever the man in the other village supplied Farrell with has worked. You look weak, and not just from your injuries, it’s deeper than that. The glow that had always surrounded you is gone. Your magic, Pero realizes. Whatever Farrell’s done, it’s cut you off from it, left you powerless.

It only makes his rage more palpable.

Soot, unfortunately, does not have the same amount of patience that humans do, and after giving Pero what he can only describe as a hard look, the cat leaps through the tree line, sauntering across the grass towards the stake you’re tied to.

Pero curses under his breath as the cat closes the distance between you and him. As soon as he reaches you, Pero sees you perk up, your eyes widening as the cat climbs up the stake, pawing and gnawing at the ropes that keep you bound. “No,” he sees your lips form, trying to bat the cat away with your tied hands. “Soot, no!”

There’s a rustling from the tent, and Farrell finally steps out of his shelter. As broad and stupid-looking as Pero remembers, the man lumbers across the clearing, an angry look on his face when he spots the cat on the stake. You cry out when he swings at the animal, but Soot is faster, ducking the large fist heading for him and sinking his teeth into Farrell’s arm.

“Stupid cat!” Farrell yells, and grabs Soot with his other hand, launching the cat into the forest on the other side of the clearing. You yelp again, and Farrell grabs you by the collar, dragging you to your feet. “What did you do?” he spits, getting in your face, his nose inches from yours. “I told you, I’m taking my time with you, bitch. You don’t want me to build that pyre tonight, do you? Do you?”

Pero turns to Tomas, his chest heaving, and puts a hand on the man’s arm. “Tomas, go home.”

“What?” he asks, incredulous. “I cannot just lea—”

“You need to go back to the village,” Pero says, his voice shockingly even, “and you need to tell them what you saw. Only one man will walk away from this fight, and if it��s him, you need to tell the village what he’s done, why we fought.”

Tomas opens his mouth to protest further, but Pero lifts his hand.

“I have lost one good friend already,” Pero continues. “I do not wish to lose another.”

Tomas’s jaw goes hard, muscle ticking in his cheek, but then he puts a hand on Pero’s shoulder. “I will tell them what I saw.”

“Thank you.”

Pero watches until the shadow of Tomas disappears into the blur of the forest.

“Please,” Pero hears you sob, your voice so broken he has to bite back his anger. “Just let me go. I’ll leave the village, like you asked. I’ll do anything, Farrell, please, just—”

“Anything, huh?” the man repeats, and his hand moves from the collar of your dress to your chin, gripping your face tightly, lifting you higher and higher until your feet are no longer on the ground, your bound hands gripping the stake as he lifts you.

Farrell pulls your face to his, and Pero can bear it no longer. He bursts through the tree line, drawing both swords at once, moonlight glinting off his blades. He roars the other man’s name. “Let. Her. Go.”

Farrell stumbles back in surprise, your blood on his lips, and your face cracks in shock, fresh tears pouring down your cheeks. “Pero, go!” you shout, but he’s too focused on your captor.

“Now, why on earth would I wanna do that?” Farrell asks, giving Pero an unkind grin as he wipes your blood from his mouth. “I’ve got your little bitch right where I want her.”

“Let her go,” Pero repeats, slower, “or I cut you down where you stand.”

The man starts to laugh. “You think you’re tough, don’t you? Big scary warrior, big shiny swords. I still have the scars, from the first night we met. You were truly terrifying back then, I’ll admit. Barely scraped away with my life, after what you did. But I lived.” He takes a little bow, and Pero growls. “Pity neither of you will walk away from this. It’s a shame, really.”

“You’re a monster,” Pero spits, taking a step forward, tightening his grip on his swords.

“Me?” Farrell shakes his head. “Oh no, the only monster here is this—” he grabs you by the collar again, shakes you against the metal stake, “—unholy creature. She’s tricked you too, hasn’t she? Lured you into her bed and kept you captive. If you’d stayed away, I bet you would have lived a long life, warrior. Or maybe you’d die in the street like any other poor swordsman.”

It’s a taunt, the man poking at any part of Pero he can, trying to find a way beneath his skin. It’s not going to work. He’s here for one thing, and one thing only.

You.

“Let her go,” Pero says a third time, taking another step, “and maybe I’ll let you live.”

He laughs again. “You keep saying that, but you see, I have another trick up my sleeve, warrior.” He turns to you, pulls a knife from his belt. Pero lurches forward, but Farrell doesn’t hurt you. He cuts the rope binding you to the stake and shoves the knife between your still-bound hands. Holding you by the collar, he drags you towards Pero, who readies his swords, waiting for an opening, searching for a moment where he can cut the man down without harming you, but it never comes.

Farrell hauls you close to him, putting his mouth by your ear. His voice is barely above a whisper, but Pero hears it all the same, sees the ripple that travels through your body at the command, the way your face pinches in pain and tears roll down your cheeks, creating tracks in the blood on your face.

“Kill him.”

It’s a cruel trick. A cruel joke. Pero’s swords clatter to the ground as Farrell shoves you towards him. You’re gripping the knife with both hands, the blade pointed up, but your fingers are trying to turn it downward. As Pero catches you, the tip of the blade drags against his collar, just glancing off his skin.

“Do it!” Farrell shouts, and you let out a sob as your body shakes.

“It’s okay,” Pero murmurs, his anger abated now that he can touch you, can feel your body in his grasp. “I am here, mi amor. You’re safe now. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” you sob, squeezing your eyes shut as your hands try to point the blade at his chest. You wrench your hands down, yanking the blade towards your own ribs, and Pero grabs your wrists. “I have to do what he says,” you cry, your shoulders shaking with the force of the command, the strength of your will. “It’s not fair.”

“I know, amor,” Pero says, his voice soft, pulling your head into his, pressing your temple to his cheek. “I know. It’s okay. I’m here. I will not leave you, never again. It’s okay.”

He says the words over and over, turning his head to kiss your cheeks, your lips, your nose, your forehead. Anywhere he can reach, while you wrestle with your own body, trying to defy the order. But you’re weak without your magic, weaker still from the injuries Farrell has given you. It’s not enough.

“It’s okay,” Pero tells you, brushing the hair back from your face as he leans in to kiss your lips. “I love you.”

Your bottom lip quivers as you stare at him, those eyes he’s come to love so much so big, filled with tears.

“Kill him!” Farrell roars, and Pero kisses you again.

“It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” you choke out, and your hands surge forward, the blade sinking in deep in his gut. “I love you.”

All Pero can hear is your sobs, the gut-wrenching sound making his chest ache as the pain floods him. But he found you. You’re alive. This isn’t how he wanted things to end. But he found you.

You wrench the blade out of him, dropping the handle as Pero sinks to the grass, blood pouring from his wound. Dimly, he hears Farrell’s laughter, the unkind noise growing quieter and quieter as you lean over him.

“I’m sorry,” you say, repeating the words over and over. “I’m so sorry. I love you. I love you. I’m sorry.”

You’re too caught up in your tears and apologies to notice him grab the hilt of the knife.

You can barely see through your tears, the wetness on your face making everything feel blurry. Everything hurts, and you can’t hold back the sobs as you curl yourself over Pero’s body, feeling the blood pouring out of him soaking into what remains of your clothes, dampening the grass below. Your entire being shakes with sadness, pushing your face against his collar, sobbing against his skin.

Behind you, Farrell just keeps laughing. Anger rattles through you, the beast in your chest screaming in pain. He did this. He did this he did this he did this.

“C’mere, bitch,” he calls, and you look over your shoulder to see him beckoning to you. But no sharp shock of obedience zips through you. You feel nothing, save for the ache in your chest. Your fingers flex, curling into the fabric of Pero’s cloak. You’re frozen in place, confused, and then you look down.

Pero’s eyes are closed, the blood that had been oozing from his wound slowed, and in his hand lies the bloody dagger.

The binds that had kept you Farrell’s hostage, kept you bound to his commands, lay in your lap, cut away from your wrists, sliced through with the very blade he’d forced you to use on your love, your soulmate, your Pero.

“Did you hear me?” Farrell shouts, and this time, when you flex your hands wide, you feel the welcoming warmth of magic shooting through your limbs. “I said come here. I’m not finished with you yet.”

Your hand closes around the hilt of Pero’s sword as you stand, dragging it out of his grasp and pulling yourself to your feet. Farrell just stares at you, his brow pinching in confusion.

“Wha—” he starts, and stumbles back a step, but you flash a hand out, keeping him frozen in place, as he had done to you in the woods, as he had when he made you watch your house burn to the ground, watch your every possession turned to ash.

You scream as you drive the blade into him, striking true, slicing through flesh and muscle as you pierce his heart. His eyes go wide as you push hard, sinking him to his knees, your scream echoing through the clearing, shouting until your throat is raw and your eyes blur with fresh tears.

“B-bitch,” he chokes out, blood bubbling out of his mouth, and you just shake your head, wrenching the sword back, watching as your captor falls to the ground, what remains of his life pouring out of him, until his eyes go dark.

The sword clatters to the grass as you spin on your heel, sprinting back to where Pero still lays. His chest is eerily still, and you reach beneath his shirt, praying that the ring you gave him still hangs around his neck.

Instead of one, you find two, your own chain also looped over his head, both rings nestled against his sternum.

All you can do is wait.

You curl up on the ground against him, tucking yourself against his still-warm body. Your palm is pressed flat to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your hand. It never slows, never falters, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. Your magic worked. You kept him safe, kept him alive.

And he came back to you.

You don’t know when, but Soot makes his way back to you, a furry warmth at your back as you curl against Pero, the three of you falling asleep on the grass, the moon watching above, the terror and rage of your ordeal slipping away to become a memory, nothing more.

When you wake, the moon has taken leave, the sun in its place, and Pero is holding you close. You’re both a mess, covered in blood and bruises, but you can’t bring yourself to care, feeling the familiar weight of his hands on your hips, pulling your body onto his, offering you his warmth. You dig your hands into his shoulders, trying your best not to hurt him, avoiding injuries best you can. The gash you’d left in his stomach is closed over, the skin around it bruised, but you know in a few days, it’ll only be a scar. A memory.

“You came back,” you murmur against his collar, feeling him shift beneath you.

“I swore to you, did I not?” he replies, lifting his jaw and kissing your forehead. “William died.”

Your hands clench on his shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

“I should have died on that mountaintop,” he says softly, and new tears prick at your eyes, “but my witch kept me safe.”

You nod, and summoning some strength, lift your head to look down at him. Your thumb reaches up to ride the familiar ridge of his scar. “Our home is gone.”

Pero shakes his head, leaning into your touch. “Nonsense, amor. Our home is wherever we go. My home is you.”

For the first time in days, your lips stretch into a smile. “And my home is you.”

You lean down to kiss him properly, the kind of reunion kiss you’d been dreaming about since the day he left. It tastes of iron and salt, your blood and his, tears and dirt and magic. Both your bodies ache like nothing you’ve ever felt before, but you don’t mind it. It’s a reminder, that you lived. Both of you.

Pero groans beneath you when you lean up, your knees either side of his waist. “Gods, how I’ve missed the feel of you on top of me.”

You bite out a laugh, reaching a hand down, pulling both the rings out of his shirt. “You found my ring.”

“In the ash,” he tells you, hands finding your waist again as you loop both chain and cord over his head, both rings resting in the middle of your palm. “I wanted to give it back to you.”

You nod, and Pero just watches as you untie the cord, unclasp the chain, pulling both rings off.

“Lena told me something,” you says softly, reaching for his hand, holding it between yours. “What they call love like ours where she comes from.”

He smiles. “What do they call it, amor?”

“Twin souls,” you reply, taking the larger of the rings, holding it over his fourth finger. “I carry a piece of you with me, and you carry a piece of me with you.”

Pero nods. “I do.”

“Witches don’t get married,” you say, staring at the ring, at his hand. “Not in the traditional sense. No churches.”

“That is understandable,” he replies, and pushes his hand up, so the ring slides down his knuckles. “Warriors do not marry either.” He takes your other hand, pulls the ring from your palm, reaches for your left hand. “We do not usually survive to return to our wives, leaving them widowed too early in life. It was never something I thought of. Until I found you.”

“We’re supposed to make vows,” you murmur, breath hitching as he puts the ring on your finger.

“We are not traditional, are we?” he quips, and you laugh.

Pero pulls you down to him, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, the weight of the ring on his fingers pressing into your skin. “I love you, amor, this day, until my last.”

“This day, until my last,” you repeat. “I love you.”

He kisses you long and hard, breathing life back into you with his love and affection. Slowly, you both get to your feet, Pero draping his cloak around your nearly bare form, the pair of you looking around the clearing at the mess Farrell left behind. Pero keeps his arm around your shoulders, presses a kiss to the side of your head.

This day, until your last.

The body is burned. The tent is torn down, any evidence of your captivity removed from the clearing. Pero is meticulous, refusing to let you lay hands on any of it, urging you to stay at the tree line, Soot in your arms and his cloak still around your shoulders.

Once he’s satisfied, he rouses Farrell’s horse, lifting you into the saddle before taking a seat behind you. For a moment, the memory flickers, your captor pressed against you, but then Pero reaches around you for the reins, his arms loose around you, letting you lean back against his chest, and the memory is gone. You fall in and out of sleep as the horse travels through the forest, Pero warm and familiar against you.

You rouse fully when you reach the field where your cottage once stood. Pero murmurs softly in your ear, kissing the curve of your neck until your eyes open. You’re surprised to see Lena and Tomas standing at the road, your horses saddled and standing behind them.

“You’re alive!” Lena cries as Pero steers the horse close, helping you slip down from the saddle. Your friend hugs you close as soon as you’re within reach. “Oh, thank the Gods.”

You hug her back tightly. “I am.”

“What is all this?” Pero asks, gesturing to the horses, putting an arm around you when Lena releases you.

“Soldiers arrived in the village today,” Tomas answers, a hard expression on his face. “Direction from the king, to help with the witch problem.”

“Witch problem?” you repeat, balking. Then the realization settles over you. “Farrell.”

Pero tightens his grip on you. “I met a man in another village, on my way back. He was the one who supplied Farrell with the means to capture you.”

Your swallow hard, heart racing in your chest. You turn to Pero. “I cannot stay here.”

“We cannot stay here,” he amends, kissing your temple. Then he turns back to Tomas and Lena, extending a hand to Tomas. “Thank you, my friend.”

Tomas just nods, shaking Pero’s hand.

“Oh, I don’t want you to go,” Lena cries, her eyes wet, and she hugs you close again. “Write to us, will you? Once you’re safe. Let us know you’re okay.”

“We will,” you agree, hugging her back. “Kiss the children for me, will you?”

She just nods.

Pero hands Tomas the reins of Farrell’s horse, takes his and yours from his friend. He helps you into your horse’s saddle, Soot making a home in your lap, and starts walking down the road, both horses trailing behind him. Your hand finds its way onto his shoulder, squeezing lightly.

You think about looking back, to the place where your home once stood, to the friends you’ve made, to where your live once was. Your chest aches with melancholy, but once it’s all disappeared from view, once Pero swings himself into his own saddle, leans across to plant a kiss on your lips, both of you nudging your horses into a gallop, the feeling eases.

“Are you worried, amor?” Pero asks.

“No,” you answer, your words honest, a hopeful smile pulling at your lips. “As long as I have you.”

—————

I have a taglist! if you’d like to be tagged in future works, please fill out this form!💕

pero tovar tags: @iamskyereads @ancientbeing10 @woomen23 @plutoneu @pedropascalsx @allfoolsinluv @bluestuesday @i-simp-much @trickstersp8 @kirsteng42 @lovesbiggerthanpride @beskarprincessjenny @loonymagizoologist @greeneyedblondie44 @tanzthompson @mswarriorbabe80 @vickytogisa @dead-pool-simp @ruhro7 @thevoiceinyourheadx @littlemisspascal @pastafossa @boliv-jenta @iccedays @detectivecarisi-1 @Grotzu @paintlavillered @tusk89 @myguiltypleasures21 @alexxavicry @chaoticgeminate @phandoz @psychedelic-ink @jitterbugs927 @amneris21 @legally-a-bastard @geekrenaissance @janebby

#pero tovar #kay’s autumn adventures #the warrior and the witch #my fics #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar x you #pero tovar smut #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar fic

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blocked-zombieartist · 11 months

Text

”Wait, what do you mean, you’re sick?”

Here’s a little get well soon fic for @lindssaphire

I strolled through the grand halls with a small bouquet in my hand. My love would adore these roses. They always did. Roses were their favorite! Soon I reached their door with my cargo and opened it with a flourish.

“Darling! I’ve got someth-“ I stopped and cocked my head. A mound of blankets and pillows suggested they were still in bed. I glanced at my watch. It read 1:27 in the afternoon. Why the hell are they still in bed? I stepped forward and said their name tentatively. Nothing. They were laying on their side, facing away from me. I leaned over to get a better look, and I saw that they looked sweaty, but were subtly shivering.

“My love? Wake up.” I gently nudged them until they awoke. I smiled softly as they rolled over groggily to face me. “Hello, gorgeous. What are you doing in bed? It’s 1:30 in the afternoon.” I murmured as I caressed their face. I leaned in to kiss them, and was surprised when they quickly turned their head away and protested. “What? What’s the matter? Wait, did I piss you off at some point?” My mind raced as I tried to remember my transgression.

They mumbled, “No, no, Jamie. I’m sick.” The nasally rasp that accompanied the words backed it up.

“What? What do you mean, you’re sick? You’ve never been sick, not since I’ve known you.” I paused. “How long have you been feeling poorly?”

~~~~~

I knew exactly how to take care of my brothers when they were sick. I’d known them all our lives, and we’d all been sick more than once over that time. But this was the first time my partner was sick since I’d known them. I wanted to do right by them. I had made them as comfortable as possible before leaving them to nap more. I utilized that time to go get anything and everything I could think of that might make they feel better, be it physically or just emotionally.

I returned with a big cardboard box in my arms, full of supplies. Blankets, tissues, cough drops, an electric kettle, and their favorite movies.

“Doll, I’m back…” I stepped in the room and set the box down on the end of the bed. They were awake now, and sat up to greet me, arms outstretched and making grabby hands. I melted inside. “You’re fucking adorable.” I said as I went to them and bent to hug them. Their skin was burning up. “My sweet baby…” I murmured. They pulled me down onto the bed with them. “Aww, is someone feeling cuddly?” I laid them down and tucked them in, and I laid myself down behind them. I spooned them.

“Thank you, Jamie…” they said to me.

“You’re more than welcome, my love. This is my job. You don’t need to thank me.” I pressed kisses to the back of their shoulder and neck. I smirked slightly as they shivered. I knew that shiver was not from their fever. They scooted closer and nuzzled into me. I wrapped my arms around them and this time, we both drifted off to sleep.

#the inheritance games #jameson hawthorne #sickfic #request #fanfic #writeblr

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okskz · 1 year

Text

Break.

elsy + chan

chan and elsy hit a point in their relationship that they never imagined, causing them to start having conflict.

this is part 1 of this elsy series. not too sure how many parts I’ll have but in the mean time just enjoy :) please feel free to leave feedback because it is always appreciated!

[8th member of got7/soloist]

elsy stood eagerly in the elevator as she waited for it to get on the floor chan’s dorm was in. it had been awhile since the two had seen each other, chan being busy with his schedule and traveling all over. but now, chan had a bit of free time to spend with the girl.

elsy had took a break from music after leaving her company. she left mainly at the fact she wasn’t given the proper support as she had in the beginning. she hadn’t been able to release new music and her only option was to leave. elsy felt as if she was letting her career go to waste if she continued to stay.

elsy was now walking fast and she was almost to chan’s dorm but before she could make it, chan was already walking out. “bang chan!” she exclaimed, smiling brightly at him. chan turned to her direction and instantly smiled when seeing elsy. the girl jumped on chan, wrapping her legs around his waist. “elsy! my love.” elsy hugged chan tighter, not saying a word. she missed being around him and it felt nice having him right in front of her.

chan put elsy down, the two going in for a kiss. “I’ve missed you so much.” she said, kissing him again. “it’s so nice to finally spend time with you.”

chan giggled, kissing elsy on the forehead. “I’ve missed you way more.”

“how are you doing?”

“great.” chan answered. “very tired of doing these schedules though. but it’s all worth it.” he smiled. “and you? what have you been up to?”

elsy sighed, “nothing if I’m being honest.” she answered. “I‘ve mostly been home. and also been hanging with yugyeom.”

“no new music?”

elsy shook her head. “as of right now, no.” the girl sighed again. chan gave her a reassuring smile. he knew she wanted to make music and perform again, and he knew how unfairly she was getting treated. “it’ll be okay, els.” chan said, giving her forehead another kiss.

“enough about this.” elsy clapped. “what do you feel like doing? we can go out to eat, maybe catch a movie, go shopping. you name it. I just want to spend time with you.” she smiled, wrapping her arms around chan’s neck.

“I’d love to do any of that stuff with you, els. but I have to work on new music. care to join me?” chan smiled.

elsy felt her smile drop. “you have to work on new music already?” she asked. “don’t you want a little break?”

“I can never take a break on music, els.” chan chuckled. “I enjoy it too much.”

elsy sighed. “you’ve been sighing a lot.” chan pointed out. “it’s okay if you don’t want to join me, els.”

“I haven’t seen you in awhile, of course I want to join you. but I was thinking we do other things besides being in the studio.”

elsy has always supported chan with everything he did, from work and just the person he is. she was always in the studio with him when he’s by himself and it’s late at night. she was always there for him. but recently, she felt like that’s all they ever do now. she wanted to do other things besides sitting in a studio all day or night.

elsy never said anything though, knowing how dedicated chan was to his work. but she knew she had to at least tell him how she felt.

and after spending almost all day there with him, elsy was growing a bit inpatient. “bang chan.” elsy said. the boy was too focused on his laptop to even pay attention. “bang chan.” she said again. still no answer. elsy sighed, walking over to him from the couch. “christopher.” he shook his shoulder finally getting his attention.

“w-what.” he said startled. “something wrong, els?”

“no. not exactly.”

“hm?”

elsy closed her eyes for a second, gathering her thoughts before talking again. “it’s just, we’ve been here all day. don’t you think we can do something else?”

“but I’m not done-“

“I know you’re not done, chan, but we can’t just always hang around in the studio. I don’t mind doing it once in awhile but all the time? you just have me here and we don’t do much.”

chan sat there, blank expression on his face. he wasn’t understanding. and that made elsy a bit ticked off with him. she missed the times where they would actually go out, not just sitting around while chan worked. “look, I’ll just go-“

“no!” chan shouted, startling the girl. “we can do something after I’m finished.”

“bang chan, we’ve been here for hours, let’s go out right now. you can save the work for later.” elsy said. she checked the time, seeing it was night time already. meaning she had wasted an afternoon.

“okay, at least let me finish-“

elsy shook her head. “no, chan.” this time she sounded stern. and chan took notice of her voice changing, staring back at elsy. “what’s wrong? you’re never like this, you’ve never had a problem being here with me-“

“because I keep it all to myself to not make you upset.” elsy cut in.

chan was taken back from elsy’s outburst. the girl could see how slightly upset how her boyfriend got. “what are you saying?”

elsy closed her eyes, sighing heavily as she opened her eyes. “what I’m saying is, I’m tired of being in the studio with you chan.” elsy answered. “this is all we do now, and I’m getting tired of it. I want to do more than just this. I enjoyed it the first couple of times but I don’t want to do this all the time.”

“but elsy, it’s my job.”

“I know it’s your job! but for once can you put your job to the side and put me first? you’re either away traveling or preparing for something. and the times you finally have some free time you just want to do this, chan.” elsy said, she stared into chan’s eyes intensely. “when’s the last time we’ve been on a date?”

chan was silent.

and that made elsy let out a small laugh of frustration. “wow, you can’t even name the last time we’ve had a date.” elsy could feel tears wanting to come down her eyes but she held them back as much as she could.

“I just care for my job elsy.”

“yeah, a little too much.”

“you just don’t understand.” chan said. elsy raised an eyebrow. “what do you mean I don’t understand?”

chan was silent again, eyeing everything but elsy. he knew she was staring at him, wanting an explanation of what he meant. and chan let the words slip out of his mouth. “you don’t understand because you haven’t been doing anything.”

elsy furrowed her brows. “what?” she said. “did I just hear you correctly?” it felt like a slap in the face for elsy, she knew chan knew her situation on why she wasn’t working.

“no, that’s not what I meant, that came out wrong-“

“so what exactly did you mean, bang chan?!”

chan could see the hurt in elsy’s eyes. but chan just couldn’t back himself up. he stood there, hesitating which only hurt elsy more. “please, elsy. I don’t need this right now.”

“oh poor you bang chan.” elsy shook her head in disbelief. “I’m so sorry I just want to spend time with my boyfriend. but I guess you’re not on the same page since all you care about is your job.” elsy knew how much chan put effort into his work, and she didn’t want to sound selfish. but she missed chan. she missed how things were.

“I’m sorry too elsy, but I just can’t have distractions right now.”

“oh my god?!” elsy exclaimed. “so now I’m a distraction?” tears began to fall down elsy’s face. “I can’t believe you right now.”

chan realized he screwed up more as he was mentally face palming himself. “no, no-“

“I don’t want to hear it.” elsy grabbed her purse and keys to get away from chan.

“elsy, come back please.” chan grabbed her wrist but elsy shook him away. “let’s talk this out.”

“no! you said what you said bang chan.” elsy snapped. “I’m leaving since you don’t want any distractions. have a nice night.” elsy slammed the door shut, leaving chan inside the studio alone.

and he was pissed and frustrated, more at himself for not thinking everything he said through. because now he hurt elsy, and hurting elsy was something he never wanted to do now that he was in a relationship with her.

elsy on the other hand, went inside her car crying her eyes out. her and chan never really argued in their relationship so this was a first one. she didn’t know what to do.

she was confused and hurt. how did her wanting to spend time with chan and letting him now end up to this?

#got7 imagines #got7 scenarios #got7 au #got7 #kpop oc #kpop oc au #kpop au #kpop female oc #bang chan au #got7 8th member au #got7 8th member #got7 fanfic #got7 angst #got7 fanfics #stray kids au #female additional kpop oc #female kpop additions #kpop added member #kpop female addition

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mc-lukanette · 2 years

Text

"Andy!" Marinette greeted, closing the door behind her and Luka as they entered the house together. "We're here!"

Andy, the boy they'd been babysitting over the course of the past couple of months, looked up on alert and beamed at them. "Luka! Marinette!"

He pushed himself up from the floor and rushed at them, arms spread and hugging their legs. They nearly stumbled from the force, but happily knelt down afterwards to give him an individual hug from each of them.

She could never stop thinking to herself how his curious and excitable nature so sharply contrasted when he'd been akumatized into Sandboy. Even after a couple months of babysitting him - the latter of which had Luka coming along with her - she was still surprised by how much of a delight he was to watch over.

Luka stayed knelt down for a moment longer to ask, "How have you been?"

"I'm great! Look, they made a Ladybug video game!" Andy exclaimed, hurrying over to show them the game's case. It was unopened, so it was clear that he'd been waiting for them to come over first, and he flipped it around to show them, "I can play as Viperion!"

"That's amazing." Luka chuckled.

Marinette glanced down, noting the ladybug and snake on Andy's shirt that he'd personally requested her to make for him, and smiled as well. "Why don't you let Luka open the box, and then you can start it up?"

"Okay!"

Luka followed Andy as they crossed the living room to settle down in front of the TV, Marinette giggling as Luka broke the plastic with a guitar pick. Despite knowing what it was under the see-through plastic, Andy treated it as if he were unwrapping a Christmas present.

The game booted up to the title screen soon after, Marinette squinting at the low quality presentation but not commenting on it so as to not ruin Andy's fun. It seemed like the Ladybug movie in a way: not caring about the finer details in favor of a cash grab.

Luka, who'd noticed that Andy was already lost in the game, went over to Marinette and wrapped an arm around her. It was only when he had fully stepped behind her that he hugged her fully.

"You're not getting paid for this one either, are you?" he asked in a whisper, concern and a bit of disdain in his voice.

Marinette let him hold her fully, leaning against him with a sigh. "I'm used to it."

"You shouldn't be," he argued.

"Superheroes don't have superhero parents to sue for them." She looked at him to make sure that she was accepting, even if a little bothered. Anger never looked right on Luka's face. "And since I'm not paid, I can't afford a defense attorney either. Besides, I'm more mad about you."

"Because I didn't get paid either?"

"No! Because no one knows exactly how Second Chance works except for you!" She pouted. "What if they don't do you justice?"

He chuckled, shifting the both of them so he could easily kiss her cheek. "Then I'll have you to be offended on my behalf."

She still wasn't fully okay with the idea that her boyfriend might get the shaft in a game neither of them were even being compensated for, but it was hard to stay mad when he was so affectionate. She reached up, placing a hand on the cheek farthest from her and watching Luka relax into it.

Having him with her was more than worth splitting the pay for babysitting an already-sweet boy.

"Luka!" Andy called, turning his head and waving at him. He pointed at the other controller, asking, "Will you fight me?"

Luka released Marinette, raising his brows in curiosity. "Marinette's the one who's good at games, not me."

Andy shook his head vehemently in response. "I'm not any good yet! She'll beat me up for sure."

"H-hey!" Marinette blushed. "I could go easy on you if I tried!"

Luka smothered his laugh into his hand, the two boys knowing full well that she was too competitive for that sort of thing.

——-

Inevitably, Andy got tired of the game with enough time, though he went quiet struggling to articulate it. Marinette guessed that either the controls were unresponsive or confusing. Still, she was happy to swap out with Luka, retrieving Andy's art supplies and bringing them over to him, complete with a sketchbook his parents had bought him.

She spent the next few minutes crouched down at the table and teaching him how to draw with the most basic terms she could. He drew a fish, cat, and bird, all with simple shapes but done decently enough.

It was a few minutes after when he'd taken to scribbling with different types of drawing utensils then he put them down and laid back, groaning, "I'm hungry."

"Oh?" Marinette looked up, eyes seeking out Luka and already knowing where he was. "It's a good thing Luka's already in the kitchen then."

Andy glanced up in confusion, then pushed himself back into a sitting position to confirm what she'd said. Stunned at seeing Luka there, already preparing something, he asked him, "H-how'd you know?"

Luka met his gaze with a smile, replying, "I heard your stomach growl while we were playing."

Andy gasped at that, turning to Marinette with wide eyes. "Is that his superpower?"

Marinette smiled, ruffling his hair. "You could say that. Real superheroes don't need a miraculous to be super."

She caught sight of Luka's blush as he turned away from the two of them. Given that Andy was too distracted by his hunger to draw, she opted to let him watch television instead, allowing her to slip away into the kitchen to join Luka.

Something about the punk look mixed with the apron - the contrast of Luka’s appearance and the soft boy he was on the inside - was really doing it for her. Not that she ever doubted it, but she was reminded every day of why he was her boyfriend.

Sneaking up from behind, she hugged him. As expected, he'd heard her footsteps and wasn't overly surprised because of it, but she could feel him relaxing at least.

"We're so domestic right now," she pointed out with amusement, pressing her forehead against his upper back.

Luka squeezed one of her hands, humming an agreement. She sighed in bliss, inhaling the scent of vanilla and sea breeze. It was the kind of life she'd dreamed of, just her and her husband cooking together, making menial tasks feel special, and becoming relaxed just by being in the other's presence. She imagined Andy's parents currently off on their anniversary date, and dreamed of one day being able to do that herself, celebrating years of a successful marriage.

Her eyes wandered over to Andy, who was still focused on the television, and imagined all the times they'd been noticed by other parents in the park. She remembered the idle comments about how they could've passed for the boy's parents had they been older, especially as he seemed so attached to them.

"Would you want one?" she asked, then felt him freeze up and pulled away to correct herself, "I-I don't mean—not—I was just thinking! Because we're not even—and I'm—"

Luka turned away from the food, gently taking her hands as well as a breath. "I knew what you meant, don't worry. You just surprised me."

"Oh." She stared down at their joined hands. "Then...?"

"I've thought about it," he confirmed. "If I'd ever want to be a dad when I don't have one. When I was little and Rose talked about wanting to get married and have a bunch of babies, I always wondered if I'd be any good at with kids since I didn't know what a dad was like personally."

She smiled sadly. "Andy would tell you that you'd make a great one, you know. I think so too."

He nodded, appreciating the thought. "I know now that having a dad or not isn't what matters. Anyway..." He averts his gaze up at nothing in particular, not able to meet her eyes for once. Getting back to the question at hand, he answered, "I think I'd want them, if it's with the person I love. It just depends on how many you want."

"How many I—" Marinette stopped, blushing pink. Really, she had no one to blame but herself for asking him in the first place.

Her happiness was his happiness, and thus this naturally followed that same pattern. She tried to picture it in her head: her and Luka, grown-up and living together in the same house with little ones running around, varying the number up until it felt right.

"...I thought for a long time that I'd have three," she admitted, "and that seemed like the perfect amount."

"But?" Luka prompted as he looked down at her.

She shrugged. "Then I realized how I'm always doing too much or thinking that I can do more than I really can? I don't pace myself properly so I end up being overwhelmed. When I really sat down and thought about it, three was too much." She nodded, more to herself than him; it was the first time she'd said it out loud and it felt satisfyingly conclusive. "Two, I think. Two would be perfect. After all—"

She stopped, blush deepening at the lameness that was about to fall out of her mouth. It was too late though, because now Luka was curious.

"What?" he asked in that soft, unassuming way that never made her feel pressured but rather warmed her up to wanting to tell him specifically because it was him.

She smiled sheepishly at him. "I-it'd be a shame to have more guitars than laps for them to rest on, right?"

Luka blinked at her, his hands briefly tightening against hers before she pulled away. He covered his mouth, glancing over his shoulder at Andy - still preoccupied - and then the stove.

"...Marinette," he warned affectionately, voice strained, "I need to focus on the food."

She grinned mischievously, moving to properly join him. "Then we should finish it faster with the two of us, right?"

He wordlessly agreed, and they finished the meal together.

Marinette knew, of course, that neither of them were ready for kids yet, nor would they be for at least a handful of years, but having a taste of what her potential future might look like was nice. It was the one thing she could count on to not be rushed or against her will, simply because Luka was right there with her, going at the same pace.

And out of everything in her life, it was the one she looked the most forward to.

#queuekanette #lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette #((And here we see the rare post-dating story in its natural habitat.))

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