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muniimyg · 2 months ago

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𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!yoongi (9) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist

note: sorry this update took forever !!! enj <3

there are no words that can describe how incredibly awkward you feel when you wake up.

last night—after you and yoongi crossed that unspoken line and messed around—you two ended up tangled together.

it’s strange because in between soft touches and sleepy murmurs—you actually got to know him in ways you never expected.

you recall it all.

his quiet voice filling the spaces between the darkness and your hushed breathing so you could hear every tone, every word, and every breath of his crystal clear.

yoongi told you stories and confessions that slipped out between shallow breaths. childish yet meaningful things he probably didn’t even realize he was saying.

you remember him murmuring about the way his mom used to hold his hand when he couldn’t fall asleep as a kid, or how he swore he’d never own a fish again because when he was 11 years old... he had 14 goldfishes and they all died one by one 2 weeks later.

he swears it wasn't his fault.

you tell him you believe him.

(you really do.)

he also talks about his quiet love for early mornings, how at peace he feels when he’s the only one awake in a still-sleeping world. in that half-dazed vulnerability, yoongi let you in.

just enough for you to see a side of him you hadn’t expected, a part that was softer, quieter, more open.

then, you two talked about baby injeolmi.

how you two don't really care about the gender and just want a healthy baby. so much so that you both agreed to not know the gender and to just be surprised on the day of. oh, and how you do want a baby shower and think hye mi is already plotting that...

then, you two talked about the moving in thing again.

that's when you pretended to go to sleep and actually fell asleep. yoongi only laughed at you, fully knowing that you're just nervous. you're moving in one way or another.

he knows it.

you know it...

but aside from the way the talk ended; it went well.

no, the talk wasn’t everything…

but it was something.

now, with the morning light filtering through the blinds, reality started to seep back in.

the familiar awkwardness of two people who shared more than they’d planned. you can feel his warmth beside you, his hand still loosely draped over your waist, and a twinge of nervousness fluttered in your stomach.

you glance at him, expecting him to be asleep. but then, his eyes blinked open, groggy but sharp enough to catch the slight flush in your cheeks.

still half-asleep, his voice rough as he mumbles, “hi…”

for a second, neither of you move, as if lingering in that quiet, unguarded space between sleep and reality. suddenly aware of the intimacy, he clears his throat, his gaze softening but pulling back just a bit.

you offer him a shy smile, feeling the weight of everything unsaid between you.

“a-about last night…”

he chuckles softly, rubbing a hand over his face. “yeah… last night…”

then, he pauses to gather his words.

“wait, are you talking about me yapping or me sucking your tits?”

none. you’re talking about pretending to fall asleep regardless, your shy smile breaks as you burst into laughter. he joins your laughter and sighs.

“i mean, are we gonna talk about any of it or is acknowledging it good enough for now? i don’t know if i’m awake enough for the conversation but i will be if you want to—”

“all good,” you assure him. “i don’t know where i was going with any of it. i guess i just wanted… to know if you—”

“i liked it,” he tells you, not digging any deeper. “you getting to know me, me sucking your tits—all of it.”

as promised, yoongi takes you to the baby store.

your eyes light up the minute you step foot in it. it’s then that yoongi remembers exactly who he’s having this baby with.

you and your fucking babyfever.

the baby store is a mix of pastel colors, tiny clothes, and gentle lullabies playing over the speakers. yoongi trails behind you as you wander through the aisles. one hand resting on the cart as he pushes it along, his eyes constantly flicking to you with a quiet, thoughtful focus.

though you two are pretty good at communicating—the whole physical affection part? that’s still a little wonky. for instance, every time you pause to examine something, yoongi is right there, his hand slipping gently around your waist to guide you to the next aisle or just to linger beside you. it’s so subtle that, at first, you think it’s an accident, a reflex.

but then it keeps happening.

at first, it throws you off—his casual closeness.

the way he stays so near, like a shadow. you’re not used to this kind of attention from him.. this quiet and steady affection. but strangely enough, you find that you don’t mind it. in fact, there’s something comforting about the way he stays close, attentive to your every move.

when you stop to touch a soft little onesie covered in tiny clouds, yoongi doesn’t even hesitate. he reaches over, gently taking it from your hands and adding it to the cart without a word.

you shoot him a questioning look, but he only shrugs, a small smile tugging at his lips as if to say, whatever you want.

“yoongi, you know you don’t have to buy everything i touch, right?” you remind him, glancing at the growing pile in the cart.

yoongi just chuckles, unbothered, and places his hand on your waist again as you reach the aisle full of toys. his touch is warm and grounding, making it hard to argue with him.

“you’re not carrying any of it home, so relax,” he says with a smile that’s both charming and final. “i like this shit too. they’re cute or whatever—”

then, your fingertips brush as you both reach for a soft, star-patterned onesie. he lets go first, letting you hold onto the onesie.

“this one’s cute,” you say softly, running your thumb along the fabric. then, you bite back a small smile when you realizes yoongi hasn’t moved his hand from your waist.

“yeah,” he murmurs, nodding. his voice is softer than usual, but before you can read into it, he takes the onesie and tosses it into the cart. then he grabs a few more items without asking you, each time ignoring your attempts to peek at the price tags.

“yoongi..."

"what?"

"are you serious?"

he looks at you blankly. "don't we need these things?"

you nod but give him a stern look. "yeah, but we can't buy out the whole store."

"why not?"

"first of all, that's insane... and second of all—a-are you just—"

you reach for a soft, stuffed rabbit, just curious to feel it, and—predictably—he plucks it right out of your hands, tossing it into the cart.

"you are."

"i'm what?"

"seriously?" you huff, barely holding back a grin. “you’re not even letting me decide if i want it. you're tossing it in just because i touched it.”

he remains unbothered by your protests.

“what if i just think you have good taste?” he says, glancing at you with a hint of mischief.

and with that, he gives you a gentle nudge, guiding you further down the aisle with that warm hand still resting at your side.

“are you saying that just to flatter yourself?”

“what do i have to do with this?”

“well, you’re my type and my babydaddy—”

“i’m your type?” yoongi tilts his head at you. "good to know..."

you blush, eyes wide from embarrassment. before you can make up some excuse to save face, he leans in and playfully pinches your waist.

“you're my type too, mama.”

you clear your throat and redirect the conversation.

"s-should we pick a crib?"

yoongi gestures his hand for you to lead the way.

as you begin to walk, you turn your head and send him a glare.

"... and be serious about this part, okay? this is the crib we're picking out. read the packaging and make your judgement. i'm gonna end up choosing the prettiest one that might not function as well as the ugly one... so, can i trust your taste on this?"

yoongi nods, pushing the cart with a steady, unhurried pace, his hand resting casually on the handle.

“you can trust me,” he says, his voice low and sincere.

... and so, you do.

you trust him.

when you reach the checkout, you step forward to pay but—

yoongi slips right past you.

casually handing over his card to the cashier before you even get a chance. you cross your arms and narrow your eyes at him, watching as he signs the receipt, completely unbothered.

the total is easily above $3,000.

he meets your gaze with a look that’s almost playful, his expression all wide-eyed innocence, as if he hadn’t just ignored your efforts.

"yoongi," you begin, voice firm. “we’re both injeolmi's parents, and it’s not fair for you to pay for everything. at least let me pay half—”

he doesn’t respond right away, just nods patiently, his attention focused on gathering the bags the cashier hands him. his face is calm, listening but clearly not swayed. he loads a big box containing the crib into the cart, then places the bags filled with tiny clothes, blankets, and toys right beside it, adjusting them carefully.

you press on, leaning slightly forward, hoping to get through to him.

“we’re both responsible here... i know i'm not a nurse practitioner like you, but it's not like i can’t contribute, you know—"

“i know.”

yoongi glances over his shoulder at you, his mouth quirking in the faintest smile as he stacks the last bag. he seems unbothered by your scolding, more amused than anything.

“this is my baby too and i feel uncomfortable letting you do this much—”

finally, he turns to you, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair back from your cheek in a gesture so casual it nearly makes you forget your own irritation.

“do what? provide?”

you're tongue tied.

“all done? feel better, mama?” he asks, his tone light, but his eyes sparkle with a hint of mischief. “if not, go ahead. say what you want. say what you need to say. i’m listening.”

you let out a small huff, crossing your arms more tightly, trying to stay serious.

“you’re not paying for everything, yoongi.”

he raises one eyebrow, his expression softening but still unwavering.

“i am. i did.” he shrugs, nonchalantly. it feels like he’s teasing you even though he isn’t. “___, i’m all done with this topic now. are you?”

“no, actually, i—” you start, feeling your frustration build.

“great,” he interrupts, his smile spreading into a grin that makes your heart skip.

he reaches down, taking your hand in his, his grip gentle yet firm, and begins to guide you toward the exit, leaving you no room to protest.

his thumb rubs lightly over your knuckles as he holds your hand, a grounding gesture that calms you, even as he completely ignores your point.

“let’s go home,” he says softly, his voice warm, as though it’s the simplest decision in the world.

home.

following yoongi inside his condo, the familiar sight of his place tugging at something inside you.

it’s been a while since you’ve been here. the memories of that night still linger like a quiet hum in the back of your mind, but you push them aside.

focus on the present.

focus on the baby.

he leads you through the hallways, and you try to ignore the way your pulse quickens as you walk past his bedroom. you know it’s silly—nothing’s changed here. but still, the weight of the space feels different, heavier now. maybe it’s because this time, you’re here for something else.

this time, it’s about the baby.

and the fact that you’ll be moving in soon… fuck, your mind begins to spin.

then, yoongi stops in front of a door, his hand resting lightly on the handle. he opens it slowly, stepping aside to let you in.

“this is the guest room,” he says, but you can tell he’s hesitating, like he’s waiting for your reaction. “soon to be baby injeolmi’s room…”

you step inside, your gaze instantly drawn to the empty space. it’s clean, quiet, the pale walls untouched by time or use. the sunlight pours in from the window, making the room feel warmer, but it’s still just a room.

there’s nothing personal about it.

nothing that belongs to anyone yet.

but you can already picture it—nursery furniture, soft colors, the quiet hum of a baby’s lullaby filling the air. you glance back at him, noting the careful expression on his face. he’s watching you, waiting for your approval. waiting for your thoughts, even if you’re not sure what to say. you wonder if he’s nervous too, if this feels as strange to him as it does to you.

for a moment, your mind drifts to that night—the night everything changed.

the night you slept together.

the night you felt something more than just friendship between you two. the way his touch felt, the way his lips lingered on yours, and how quickly it all faded into the awkward silence the next morning.

"i also made space for your things in my room. i'm not finished clearing out my all shit but i will be by next week. does that sound okay?"

"huh?" you blink. "n-next week?"

yoongi nods.

"i think i gave you enough time to think things over... and don't act like this is a surprise. i brought it up last night. you pretended to sleep."

your eyes widen.

"i—"

"move in with me next week," yoongi says. "... you can pretend to sleep mid conversation in my bed from now on."

by an hour and half in, you and yoongi have filled the space with scattered remnants of baby gear—boxes, parts of cribs, and the disassembled pieces of a changing table. they all lay haphazardly across the floor.

it’s oddly comforting.

the clutter somehow feels like a soft reminder of the chaos and excitement that’s about to come.

yoongi is kneeling on the floor, tools in hand, as he begins to assemble the crib, the sound of metal and wood clicking together filling the otherwise quiet room.

you lean against the doorway, arms crossed, watching him work with a careful, focused precision. his brow is furrowed, his jaw clenched as he concentrates on each piece. his sleeves are rolled up, revealing forearms that make it hard to focus on anything else. you swallow, not bothering to hide the way your eyes drift to the muscle in his arms as he works.

and then, almost instinctively, he looks up at you, his gaze meeting yours as if he can feel your eyes on him.

“baby injeolmi’s clothes need to be washed,” he says, his voice low but firm, his hands already reaching for another tool. “you want to do this 50/50? fine. but i don’t want you getting hurt.”

you push off the doorframe, rolling your eyes as you walk toward him, crossing your arms over your chest.

you’re not used to him treating you like you’re made of glass, but you get where he’s coming from. still, it doesn’t sit well with you.

“i’m pregnant but i’m not fragile,” you argue. “i can help you with the crib—“

he doesn’t budge, his jaw tightening as he focuses on the task at hand.

“humor me then,” he says, his tone patient, but there’s an underlying edge of stubbornness that makes it clear this isn’t up for debate.

you’re about to argue further, but the way he’s working—so effortlessly, so damn focused—has you momentarily silent. the way his arms flex as he screws the pieces together, the tension in his shoulders, the occasional glance up to check in on you—it all just feels so... domestic, and so right in this moment.

you step back a little, your breath catching as you take in the scene. yoongi, with his sleeves pushed up, lost in his work, looks so different from the guy you met—still him, but somehow more.

more... grounded. more steady.

your gaze lingers, unable to pull away.

your cheeks heat, a strange flutter in your chest as you realize you’ve been staring too long. When Yoongi catches your eye, his expression unreadable for a split second, you scramble to regain your composure.

“i’ll, uh…” you quickly clear your throat, suddenly feeling the weight of the moment. “i’ll get started on baby’s laundry. do you have clothes that need to be washed too? i can do a load—i mean… fuck—y-you know what? how about i make us some lunch first? yeah. i’ll do that.” you say, quickly backing away before your feelings get the best of you.

your steps are hurried as you leave the room, but you can still feel the heat in your face, the warmth of his gaze following you as you retreat.

yet, the image of him—focused, strong, and all yours—lingers, and you can’t help but smile to yourself as you step into the kitchen.

in the kitchen, you decide to keep it simple yet comforting.

something easy to share, nothing too fancy. you settle on making caprese chicken sandwiches with a side of fresh fruit and chips.

you finish grilling the chicken and layer it on the toasted ciabatta. you add slices of fresh mozzarella, letting it melt slightly, then pile on thick tomato slices and fresh basil leaves. a drizzle of balsamic glaze finishes it off before you top it with the other half of the bread, pressing it together gently when yoongi walks in.

without a word, he leans against the counter beside you, his presence as familiar as the scent of the meal. he doesn’t wait for you to finish; instead, he picks up a melon slice and takes a bite.

“can’t you wait two seconds?” you laugh, nudging him playfully with your elbow.

yoongi just grins, completely unbothered. he takes another bite.

“fruit always taste better when moms cut them,” he says, his voice teasing but laced with that quiet sincerity of his. “oh, should i say milf? or is that jungkook’s line?”

you roll your eyes but can’t help the smile tugging at your lips.

the way he stands there, so effortlessly himself, makes your chest tighten in a way you didn’t expect. he’s always been like this—comfortable, confident, and somehow, when he’s this close, it feels like everything else fades away.

as he pulls away, you notice a small smudge of melon juice on the corner of his lips. without thinking, you reach up to wipe it away, your thumb brushing softly against his skin. the movement feels natural, almost automatic, but something about the intimacy of it makes your heart flutter. you don’t hesitate, bringing your thumb to your mouth to clean it off.

“mhmm,” you moan. “tastes sweet.”

then, the moment freezes.

yoongi stares at you, eyes wide, as if he’s seeing you for the first time, like the simple action has somehow shifted everything. the air between you thickens, and suddenly, it feels like there’s more than just the space in the kitchen separating you.

you stand still, unsure of what to do next.

your eyes lock, and in that second, something unspoken passes between you. it’s not just the closeness or the warmth of the kitchen—it’s a pull, an undeniable magnetism that makes your chest tighten and your breath catch.

yoongi’s gaze drops to your lips, and you can feel the tension, the quiet yearning between you both. his hand twitches slightly at his side, like he wants to reach for you, but he’s holding back, waiting for you to make the first move.

and just as you’re about to lean in, your belly gives a sudden flutter.

you gasp, your eyes widening in surprise, and instinctively, you reach for his hand, pressing it gently to your belly.

“oh my god.”

“what?”

“yoongi… i think… here—”

you hold your breath, waiting, and then—

there it is again.

a small, unmistakable kick.

yoongi’s eyes light up with awe, his fingers curling slightly around your hand as he feels it, a slow smile spreading across his face. he doesn’t say anything at first, just stands there, his eyes fixed on your stomach, filled with wonder and something deeper that you can’t quite place.

you squeeze his hand, feeling the weight of the moment settle around you both.

“did you feel that?” you whisper, a smile tugging at your lips.

yoongi looks up at you, his eyes softer now, holding something deeper than the simple wonder of the moment.

the air around you two has shifted into something more intimate. then, his gaze flickers to your face, his heart fluttering in his chest as he steps a little closer, his thumb gently brushing over your hand.

… and as he looks into your eyes, his pulse quickens.

it’s not just the baby’s kick he feels—it’s this quiet, undeniable pull between you two. his chest tightens with the weight of it, and for a moment; this is everything to him.

everything.

he gulps as he soaks in your presence and sinks into the idea feeling of love beginning. then, slowly and then all at once; he accepts it.

“yeah,” yoongi says, tone warm and ever so sure. “i feel it.”

as you look up to meet his eyes, yoongi’s lips tug into a smile. dipping his head low, he kisses you.

#bts smau #bts fanfic #yoongi dilf #yoongi dad au #yoongi x yn #yoongi x reader #yoongi scenario #yoongi fluff

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valentinegab3 · 7 months ago

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BTS story recommendations

This is a list of fics I have personally read and a mix of fics I still have to read. It will continuously be updated with new quality fics that I read or see on my for you page. All of these are so good and the authors are absolutely amazing writers. I hope you enjoy!

a - angst | s - smut | f - fluff

Jungkook

Never Been a Friend > brother's bsf!jk, bratty!reader

Raven Unit @themfchase - Series [6/6] | 60.9k | political au, taskforce au, war crime, suspense, feat OT7, president’s daughter!OC, soldier!jungkook | s, a, f

The Good Soldier@thewanderingalias - Series [12/12] | 44k | military au, war au, medic!reader, sergeant!jungkook | a , s (heavy angst, minor char ☠️)

We Can't Be Friends @joonberriess - Oneshot | 9.8k | exes to lovers | a , s

Coquet @shina913 -Series [11/11] | 77.7k | Escort!JJK x Fem-reader, Fake-dating!AU; Strangers to lovers | f , a , s

Just Take It @ahgasegotarmy116 - Series [6/7] | Inexperienced f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap), cheating, pregnancy | s, a

Horny for My Bestie @jkslipppiercing - Oneshot | 8.5k | Bsf!oc, horny!jk. | s , a

Dont get attached @xoxomoonlightxoxo -Series | 6.8k | ex-boyfriend jungkook x y/n, toxic relationship, cheating, attachment issues, possessiveness | s , a

Strictly Platonic @jeonqkooks - Oneshot | 19.4k | best friends to lovers, college au, fake dating au | f , a , s

Lonely Hearts Club @joonbird - Oneshot | 18k | tattoo artist au, angst, smut, dystopian/sci-fi AU | A , s ( I dont think this ever got completed so if you enjoy open ended stories this is your cup of tea)

Lemon Sherbet @extravaguk - Oneshot | 15k | summer!au, ex highschool classmates, kinda frenemies to lovers, tattoo artist/piercing artist!junkook, popular!reader | f , a , s

Set On You @bymoonchild - Oneshot | 18.1k | volleyball!AU, college!AU, setter Jungkook x manager reader | f , s

Cat Got Your Tongue? @jessikahathaway - Oneshot | 18.1k | College!AU, FWB to Lovers, Romance | s , little bit of a

The Reaper @deepdarkdelights - Oneshot | 14k | Yandere Mercenary Jungkook x Reader | s

Está Dañada @aquagustd - Oneshot | 20k | neighbor au, slow burn, singer!JK, strong language, pining, dog dad JK, really soft JK, toxic relationship + mentions of infidelity (not between Y/N & JK) | S , a , f

Stay @lolabangtan - series [16/16] | 155k | mutual pining, jock!Jungkook, ex queen bee!noona reader, college AU, enemies to lovers, roommates AU, side Jimin x OC, fake dating, pining, bets, slow burn, forced proximity.| s , a

Tantalizing @littlemisskookie - Series [ 8/8] | 48.3k | Past highschool classmates in college, fwb!jungkook and nerd!reader | a , s

Microwave (Mis)adventures @bymoonchild - Oneshot | 20k | college!AU, roommates/housemates!AU, enemies to lovers!AU, | f, a , s

Cruel Intentions @explicit-tae - Series [5/5] | 80.7k | Mafia!Jungkook, x reader, yandere themes | s , a

The Devil's Change Up @jungblue - Oneshot | 41.3k | Pitcher!Jungkook x reader, baseball player au, college | s , f , a

Candles & Flames @taegularities - Series [4/4] | 100.8k | enemies to lovers, royal!au, fake dating, fuckboy!jk, royal!jk, lies, jealousy | a , f , s

Employed @personasintro - Series [tbd] | tbd | ceo!jungkook x reader, enemies to lovers | a , s , f

The Art of War More @kpopfanfictrash - Oneshot | 42.4k | Jungkook x reader, Enemies to Lovers/ College!AU, Hockey!AU, | a , s , f

⭐Ideations Concerning Real Life Relations @venusiangguk - Oneshot | 40.9k | jungkook x reader / fuckboy!jk x hopeless romantic!oc, heartbreak | ANGST, s , tiny f

Safety Net @pradaksj - Series [2/2] | 40k | Jungkook x reader, enemies to friends, friends to lovers, roommates au, boxer!jk, pining | a , s , f

After I left You @latetaektalk - Oneshot | 38.9k | Jungkook x reader, exes!AU, fake dating!AU, enemies to lovers-ish!AU, unrequited feelings-ish!AU. | a , f

Glitter and Disquiet @joheunsaram - Series [2/2] | 38.8k | ceo!Jungkook x youtuber!Reader, chaebol!au, virgin!Jungkook, open relationships | a , s , f

It Takes Two @junghelioseok - Oneshot | 29.8k | fake dating!au, roommate!au | s , a , f

A Holiday Snowdown @kpopfanfictrash - Oneshot | 36.3k | Jungkook x reader, Enemies to Lovers, Ski Resort!AU, Snowboarder!AU | s , a , f

How To Get A Guy @taeshobipop - Series [2/2] | 35.9k | Jungkook x Reader | [slight] Yoongi x Reader, roommates!au, college!au, fuckboi!jk, enemies to friends to lovers, basketball player!Jungkook, basketball captain!Yoongi | a , s , f

Twelve Hours @whatifyoulivelikethat - Series [2/2] | 23k | jungkook x reader; implied taehyung x reader, film director!Jungkook x wealthy, burlesque dancer!reader — ft best man, art trader!Kim Taehyung; dancer's bodyguard!Kim Namjoon and bodyguard!Kim Seokjin. Distantly knew eachother since highschool. | s , a , f

Airplane, pt.2 @xjoonchildx - Series [6/6] | 22.4k | criminal!jk, koreanamerican! jungkook, unrealistic af but good | s

By It's Cover @gimmesumsuga - Oneshot | 21k | jungkook x reader | s

ungodly hour (six parts) + drabble @explicit-tae - Series | 21.5k| Jungkook x reader | s

Hidden Stars @jungblue - Series [5/5+] completed | 37.4k | jungkook x reader, idol!AU | a , s

Lost and Found @kooktrash - Oneshot | 18.7k | Jungkook x reader, mid-20’s friendships | s, a

And They Were Roommates @hoseok666 - Series [6/7] In progress | 70.5k | jungkook x reader/taehyung x reader strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, college!jungkook AU, college!taehyung AU, tsundere! jungkook, warm personality taehyung, slowburn | a , s, f

Chasing Cars @oddinary4bts - Series [7.5/17] |182.9k| jungkook x reader brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader, Hoseok x female reader, Namjoon x OC, Jin x OC, Jimin x OC, Taehyung x OC and others. | a, s

Falling @starshapedkookie - Oneshot | 31.4k | jungkook x female reader, soulmate/destiny au, college au, photographer jungkook, | a, s, f

Love Alive @jamaisjoons - Oneshot | 17k | Jungkook x reader, post break up au. exes to lovers au | A, s, f

⭐Falling Skies @fortunexkookie - Series [6/6] | 50k | Jungkook x reader Angst / Hurt and Comfort / Grief and Coping / Fluff / Smut / Frienemies to Lovers | s, f, a

Sugarplum Elegy @bymoonchild -Oneshot | 17.9k | Junkook x reader, College!AU, Idiots to lovers!AU, FWB!AU, Soundcloud singer!AU, pining, constipated feelings, emotionally constipated Jungkook | s, a, f

Neighbor Blunder @awrkive - Series [undetermined] | 17.8k | neighbor!jungkook x reader, bff!jimin, accountant!oc software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, mature language. | a, f, s

I Need You @smoljimjim - Series IP [32/39] | 82k+ | married dilfJK x OC named Siri, strangers-friends-lovers, cheating au, slow burn romance, happy ending | a, f, s

Espresso @joonberriess - Oneshot | 14.6k | boxer!jk x idol!OC , jealous!jk, possessive!jk, oc’s a pillow princess | f, s

Obsession @94blazed - Twoshot [2/2] | 21.8k | Seven wednesday jungkook x reader. Fwb!jungkook, ft. Jungkook's ex. | s, f, a

For The Birds @yoonieper - Series IP [1/14+] | 12.6k + | Jungkook x reader, cheating, toxic jk, slow burn, CEO jungkook, fluff | a, s, f

Cold Nights & Blurred Lines @awrkive - Oneshot | 26.6k | Basketball player Jungkook x reader

Jimin

Peaches & Piercings @jkangelic - Oneshot | 20k | cheerleader!reader x punk!jimin, punk!jimin, e2l, college au, jimin is a whole asshole. | s, a

Lover to lean on @sketchguk - Oneshot | 20k | neighbor!jimin x florist!reader, neighbor AU, flower shop AU, pining, unrequited love 🤔| s , f , a

[Unnamed] @honeymoonjin - Oneshot | 25k | jimin x reader roomates, cabin in amazon rainforest, shy young graduate student!jimin, butterfly studying, subby jimin | f , a , s

Oh, What a World @cutechim - Series [16/16] | 140k+ | f. lawyer!reader x solo artist!jimin, fake marriage au, fallen idol au, fuckboy!jimin, possesive!jimin, unrequited feelings | f , a , s

Believe it @writtenwhalien - Oneshot | 28.7k | mechanic!jimin x reader friends to enemies to lovers (it’s more complicated though) | (high school + bet AU) | f , s , a

Florezco @honeymoonjin - Oneshot | 25k | Jimin x reader, cabin roommate, college graduate jimin studying the forest | f, a, s

Remote Access @fortunexkookie - Oneshot | 11k | Jimin x Reader | AU: Sex Worker AU + Roommates AU + Enemies to Lovers | s, a, f

All that Glitters @deepdarkdelights - Oneshot | 19k | Soft(ish) Yandere Jimin x Reader, 18+, Yandere, Obsession, Fear, Non-Consensual Touching, Symptoms of Panic/Anxiety, Stalking, Murder, Blood, Abandonment Issues, Attempted Sexual Assault (Not By Jimin), Tsundere Reader, Insinuation of Smut (It’s spicy just not very descriptive),Bullying | s?

Lover to Lean On by @sketchguk - Oneshot | 20k | neighbor!jimin x florist!reader, neighbor AU, flower shop AU, explicit language, pining, unrequited love 🤔, accidental voyeurism, unhealthy eating/sleeping habits, praise kink, body worship | a , s

Failure to Communicate @stutterfly - Oneshot | 21k | Jimin x reader, Enemies to Lovers/ College AU/ comedy | s

Blue Blood @joonbird - Oneshot | 26k | Jimin x reader, royalty au, slowburn, drama, angsty | s, a

Into the Wilderness @gukyi - Oneshot | 27k | Jimin x reader, camp counselor!au, unrequited love!au, friends to lovers!auunrequited love, camp shenanigans, awkwardness, secondhand embarrassment/hurt, ot7 cameos | a, f

Lets Get Quizzical @taleasnewastime - Oneshot | 28.6k | Jimin x reader, friends to lovers | A, s, f

Taehyung

Exchanging Heat @jinfizz - Oneshot | 25.1k| Korean exchange/visiting student!Taehyung x (slight) tsundere!reader, mutual pining, slow burn, S2L, college au | f , s , a

The Good Boy @jkeuphoriadreamland - Series [9/9] | 43.1k | Taehyung x reader, Librarian! Taehyung, Yandere!Taehyung/ Obsessive!Taehyung, heavy flirting, unexpected advances, pining, stalking, possesive themes | s

Love Me Or We Both Go Down @gukyi - Oneshot | 32k | Kim Taehyung x female reader, enemies to lovers!au, arranged marriage!au, rich kids!au | s, a, f

Ruined @taegularities - Oneshot | 24.4k | Taehyung x female reader, strangers to lovers, fuckboy!tae, pining | a, f, s

All I Want For Christmas Is You @ladyartemesia - Oneshot | 17k | Kim Taehyung x Female Reader, Brother’s Best Friend (Reader is Jimin’s Sister) • Enemies-to-Lovers, jealousy and possessiveness | f, s

Seokjin

the ex not missed @kithtaehyung - oneshot | 26.9k | romcom ; holiday au, strangers to lovers au, fake dating au | a , f , s

1K notes · View notes

turtletaubwrites · 11 months ago

Text

Numbers Game ~ Masterlist

Please enjoy this smutty one shot that got insanely out of hand.

Last Updated: 1/7/25

Pairings: Cross Guild x Fem!Reader x Special Guests

Ao3 Link

Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Summary: You left your stable/boring life as an investment banker to have some adventure. Unfortunately, that sweet Warlord of the Sea didn't follow your financial advice, and now you and your clown are at the mercy of his biggest lender and his new business partner.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Trauma, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, PTSD, Threats, Alcohol, Cigars, Blood and Violence, Swearing, Angst, Smut, Fluff, Guilt, Manipulation, Humiliation, Degradation, Teasing, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Possessive Behavior, Jealousy, Daddy Kink, Masturbation, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Choking, PIV Sex, Unprotected Sex, Cuckolding, Biting, Face Slapping, Dom/Sub Undertones, Praise Kink, Size Difference, Overstimulation, Blow Jobs, Hair Pulling, Dacryphilia, Orgasm Control, Large Cock, Anal, Double Penetration, Knifeplay, Pain Kink, Blood Kink, Aftercare, Bondage, Spanking, Punishments, Orgies, Fights, Brat Handling, Gangbang, Scratching, Body Worship, Cock Warming, Comeplay, Relationship Drama, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Additional tags listed on each post

A/N: I'm obsessed. What do I have to do to get my butt onto that green couch?

Extra Scenes

| Rabbit's Fur ~ (654) |

Asks, Author's Notes, and Sillies

| Party Attire ~ Reader ~ (Author's Version of Numbers Girl's Party Dress) | Party Attire ~ The Boys ~ (Author's Version the of the Boys' Party Clothes) | Suitor Dossiers ~ (Get to Know the Hunters ~ Read Part 31 First!) |

557 notes · View notes

souliebird · 11 months ago

Text

[[and then i met you || ch 16]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

Words: 4.4k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

You dream of hands.

They are strong, calloused, and scarred, but they are so gentle with you. They dance over your skin, tracing over your belly to your sides and go down to your thighs. They come back up, pushing your panties to the side and examine your most intimate areas, and though you feel desire radiating from them, they do not cross the line into deviant behavior. They do not tease - they explore and memorize and make you feel like something precious.

Once they have soaked themselves in the slick your body can't help but produce, they slide up to just under your belly button and rest there. Everything inside you flutters at the gesture and your body craves to be full - for the hands to feel the push back of a life moving inside you.

They don't linger long - only enough to make you squirm and gasp - before they are moving again. They drag up your center, skirting your breast like they dare not indulge.

They wrap around your throat and give a small squeeze. They are powerful and could crush you without a thought, but they don't. They release you and continue upward. They brush your cheeks, and when a thick digit pushes past your lips and you begin to suckle at it, you finally wake.

Your bedroom is filled with bright sunlight, and you groan with disappointment.

Your instinct tells you to roll into your pillow and try to continue sleeping but your mind is faster than your body and groggy memories of the day before beat against your skull.

Your ear has no problems reminding you that you are ill. As you come more into consciousness, you become aware of how much it aches and how overly warm you feel. You vaguely remember being woken up to have ear drops put in and to coaxed into drinking water. There are flashes of sweet words and praise and being held while you drift back to sleep and gentle little kisses all over your face.

You force your eyes to open and are greeted by the cartoonishly large ones of Scooby. He's right beside your pillow, like he's watching over you, and he's been maneuvered into wearing Minnie’s miniature doctor's coat with her bright pink toy stethoscope clamped around his neck. Your heart sings with love for your little girl and you hug the stuffed dog to your chest, burying your nose in his oversized head.

How in the world did you get a daughter who is so pure and full of compassion and love? It certainly isn't genetic - you don't think your parents knew what compassion was. If this is from what you have taught her, then maybe, just maybe, you have finally done something right with your life.

You stay hugging Doctor Scooby until your bladder complains and you force yourself out of bed.

Your phone is nowhere to be seen, but you don't worry about it too much - you only wanted to check the time. You have a feeling it's around midday, but you can't be too sure - all you know is it feels like you slept forever.

You grab a change of clothes, then head to the bathroom, bringing your toddler assigned guardian with you. After you take care of business, you take the time to clean yourself up a bit before changing into fresh clothing. It does wonders to improve how you feel. Your ear still throbs, and you feel stiff, but you don't feel like you've been wallowing in your own sweat.

As you clean up your small mess, you note the carefully arranged bottles in your bathtub have been switched around. Minnie’s shampoo is in the wrong place and instead of any annoyance, you find yourself smiling.

Matt must have given her a bath. You can imagine how it went, as your daughter enjoys getting clean and playing with all her water-based toys. She also adores helping and following directions, and you can picture her instructing her Daddy on how to wash her hair just right.

You would have thought you'd never trust Minnie with someone so soon after meeting them - there's no way you'd let any of your friends give her a bath - but with Matt it is so easy. He wants so much to be a good father and he and Mouse already have such a good bond. You are just sad you missed their first bath time together.

You take Doctor Scooby and your dirty clothes and leave the bathroom. Your clothes go into the hamper, then you and the toy dog make your way to the living room. You can hear the television going, but it's too low to make out what is playing, and your daughter giggling. The noise warms your heart, and you yearn for her.

The scene you come upon is something you don't expect - Matt is sitting cross legged on the ground, back facing you, with Minnie standing right in front of him. On the coffee table beside her, her toy makeup kit is laid out, with all the different brushes scattered everywhere. Your daughter has a look of pure concentration on her face as she examines her father, a tube of what you know to be roll on glitter clutched in her little fist.

Matt must be getting his first princess makeover.

You can't hold back the delighted noise that comes from your soul at the realization and that of course catches both of their attention.

“Mommy!”

A rocket made of brown curls and a yellow sundress crashes into your waiting arms. You squeeze her tight, trying to absorb her into your being, along with the Scooby plush. The hug only lasts a moment, as she quickly pulls back, slaps her little hands onto your cheeks, and declares, “You're still sick!”

You push your face into her touch, and give a sad laugh, guilt bubbling in your belly, “I am, I'm sorry, Mouse. But I feel better now, I promise.”

She purses her lips at you before dropping her hands from your face and says in an authoritative voice, “Doctor Scooby says you need more sleep.”

You look down at the toy still in your arms, then hold him up to be face to face with Minnie, “My body doesn't want to sleep anymore. Do you think it would be okay if I came out here to be with my family, Doctor Scooby?”

She takes the dog from you and jams his mouth to her ear. She pouts and goes, “uh-huh. Uh-huh. Okay,” before turning him so he is looking at you and you feel like you're being judged by him. “He says you have to stay on the couch. And no cookies!”

“No cookies?” Matt asks from behind Minnie, and you finally tear your eyes away from her to look at him. You have to bite your lip, so you don't laugh.

Mouse has gone above and beyond with her princess makeover.

Baby pink eyeshadow has been smeared over his eyelids, up to his thick eyebrows, and blended out to have a border of blue sparkles. His cheeks are rouged enough to make a flapper jealous, and a deep purplely-red stain has been carefully applied to his lips. Or as carefully as a three-year-old can do, which means the scruff around his mouth now has a nice tint to it. To top off his look, stick-on gems have been placed around his eyes, and the deep red color and shape of them mimic the glasses he typically wears.

He looks absolutely fabulous, and you need to find your phone so you can send pictures to Foggy and Karen.

“No cookies,” Minnie confirms, waving her plush at you to get your attention back onto her.

“Okay, no cookies,” you agree. You don't know if you actually have any cookies in the pantry to eat, anyways, so this will be an easy rule to follow. “And I have to stay on the couch?”

Minnie nods vigorously, “Doctor's orders!”

“Okay, if the doctor says so.”

You push yourself back into standing and your daughter takes your hand to practically march you over to the couch. You plop down in your corner and not a moment later, Scooby is back in your arms. Then, Minnie is zooming away from you and to the kitchen, calling back, “Daddy, I need help, please, thank you!”

Matt beams at you as he stands up and even with his face used as a coloring book, he looks handsome as ever, “I'm coming, my love.” His voice is full of joy and pride, and while you feel guilty, he is stuck babysitting while you're recovering, he clearly doesn't feel the same. You have the suspicion that every time Minnie calls him ‘Daddy’, his heart grows bigger.

You don't turn to spy as Matt disappears from your view. Your phone is on the table behind Minnie’s make up kit, so you grab that then pull the throw blanket off the back of the couch and wrap yourself in it after adjusting to get a little more comfortable.

There are no urgent or interesting notifications waiting for you - a few emails about sales and calendar reminders about upcoming bills that need to be paid. You swipe them away then turn your focus to the television. It is one of the educational videos about animals your little one has started watching in preparation for her birthday trip to the zoo. The date is coming up fast and you wonder if she's been telling Matt about all the animals she's excited to see. You can't wait to take her to the park for her special day.

Minnie brings you from your thoughts with another yell of, “Mommy!” She hurries into your view and your heart swells with love. She's holding your water bottle, which she shoves at you, “Doctor Scooby says…he says you have to stay hide-rated. I asked Daddy what that means and he said you gotta drink lots of water! I got you water!”

You take your bottle and have to resist the urge to take her up in your lap as well. Your little angel is so sweet and thoughtful, and you very much want to wrap her up in your arms and never let go.

“Thank you so much, sweetie, I'll make sure to keep hydrated. Promise,” you tell her, fully meaning to do just that. You try to drink a lot of water anyways, so it shouldn't be hard to accomplish.

Minnie, however, either doesn't believe you or is over eager to take care of you. She grabs a hold of one of your legs and shakes it as hard as she can, demanding “Drink!” She drags out the word in a way only a toddler can and to soothe her, you take a long sip of water.

“What else did Doctor Scooby say?” Matt asks as he returns from the kitchen, and you can feel the grin in his words.

Mouse takes in the question, swaying slightly as she thinks, then breaks out into a big grin as she recites, “Lots of rest and…and a ...a towel on her ear! To help the ickies!”

“Exactly,” Matt practically cooes as he scoops up his daughter, swinging her around before securing her on his hips. He tilts his head towards you, looking proud as can be, “I think we have a little doctor on our hands.”

“I'm gonna be a veteran!” Minnie declares, puffing up her chest.

You know she means veterinarian and decide you aren't going to correct her. Instead, you're going to tease her about her past career goals, “I thought you wanted to be a hot dog vendor?”

Her eyes get wide at the reminder, and she quickly amends, “I'm gonna do that on the weekend!”

“So, veteran during the week and hot dog vendor on the weekend?” Matt confirms, blue sparkly eyebrows raised.

“Yeah!”

You and Matt both huff in laughter and your little one beams at the attention.

You take in Matt's appearance, with his devastatingly handsome face and boyish charm and a warmth churns in your belly. To push away those feelings, you ask, “are you still going to have time to give Daddy makeovers with all that work?”

Minnie looks at Matt and analyzes him, before starting to wiggle to be put down, “you need says-or-eases!” You guess she isn't done with him yet and talks of her future will have to wait.

He sets her on the ground, asking, “I need what?” but she doesn't acknowledge him, running off to the bedroom to grab more of her toys. You watch as he moves his head in minute movements, brow wrinkling up. He must be trying to figure out what his daughter is fetching.

“What is she getting?” Matt finally asks you and you take a sip of water so swallow down any smugness you have.

“Accessories,” you clarify. “You can't have a makeover without getting some new accessories.”

He mouths the word, and you know he has no idea what is to come - Foggy’s nieces must be too old for dress up and makeovers. He remains standing until Minnie comes waddling back. She's carrying one of the purses you've gotten for her, and she's stuffed it full of costume jewelry and hair clips. She dumps it all out on the ground by Matt's feet with a demand of, “Sit, please, thank you!”

Bewildered, he does as he's told, and your daughter wastes no time trying to determine what looks best with his makeup. She holds a necklace up, looking between it and him before setting it aside with a ‘no!’ This happens again and again as she goes through her necklaces, then clip-on earrings and bangles - none of which fit over Matt's hands and are abandoned - and finally hair clips.

You enjoy the process, sitting back and letting yourself wake up as Minnie describes each accessory to her Daddy as she decides if it matches the aesthetic. You snap photos to send to your new friends and Matt is good enough to even pose for a few.

The final look consists of a giant yellow heart necklace, blue teardrop dangle earrings, and Beauty and the Beast hair bow. He looks very dashing, and you tell him as much as you send the end product over to Foggy and Karen.

“If hot dog vending doesn't work out, your side hustle can be as a stylist,” you tease and Minnie beams at you, enjoying the praise. Matt examines what he is wearing, carefully touching the plastic jewelry to better understand what he looks like as Mouse reminds him of the colors.

As they do that, you check the time. It is a little past Nap Time, so once the conversation starts to change, you address your daughter, “Would you like to clean up your toys and get some juice?”

You know she knows this transition and she doesn't hesitate to nod and start to act. She starts with the things on the floor, stuffing them back into her purse and Matt jumps into Dad-mode.

“What type of juice do you want, Mouse?”

“Apple juice, please, thank you.”

“Half juice, half water,” you advise as he carefully navigates out of the living area.

“Is the cup from last night, okay? The sippy one?”

“The bunny one!” Is the almost haughty reply. The pink bunny is the pre-nap juice cup, and you think a fit might be thrown if tradition isn't followed, so you untangle yourself from the blanket and go to the kitchen. Luckily, no one calls you out for leaving the couch.

You smile at Matt as you pass him, and explain, “I ordered water resistant Braille label stickers but haven't finished putting them on all her things yet.” You open the cabinet that holds all of her various cups and pull out the correct one, then pass it over. “This one I did label.”

Matt takes it and runs his fingers over the surface until he finds the Braille, “Pink with bunnies. For Juice. Nap Time.” His face relaxes into something soft as he retraces the words. You don't know how descriptive you need to be with everything, but you know you don't need to spell everything out for him. His lips twitch into a smile and he whispers to you, “thank you,” before turning to the fridge to get out the juice.

You don't want to make things awkward by lingering, so you shuffle back to the couch and reclaim your spot. Matt joins you a minute later, setting the sippy cup on the table.

Mouse finishes cleaning up her toys rather quickly, then grabs her juice and crawls up to be between the two of you. You change the television over to one of the Pre-Nap shows - something calming to help everyone wind down - and out of the corner of your eye, you see your daughter snuggle into her Daddy's side and begin to sip her juice. Matt wraps his arm around her shoulders and begins to oh so gently pet over her arm.

She's out before she finishes her juice.

You don't miss the opportunity to take more pictures of Matt looking down at Minnie. You know he can't see her with his eyes, but you wonder what input he is getting and if he knows how sweet the pair of them look.

You sit silently and wait until you're sure she won't wake up, then reach to gently touch Matt's shoulders, “Do you want to put her in her bed?”

He nods slowly, his whole being screaming with love for his little girl. You take the sippy cup away as he carefully picks her up after standing and you watch as he cradles her to his chest. He stands there for a moment, holding her close, and you think he must be savoring the moment.

You don't disturb him and after a minute, he starts towards the bedroom. You wait until he's disappeared down the hallway to get up and go pour out the remainder of Minnie’s juice. You clean the cup, then grab some skin friendly wet wipes - you have the feeling Matt may not want to keep wearing his makeup. It feels gummy on your skin so you can't imagine how irritating he finds it.

You resettle on the couch and change from sleepy television to soul crushing television - the midday news.

You usually like to catch the top stories and the weather before switching away, but given Nap Time came a little late today, you miss those. Instead, you tune into the host interviewing some politician and the headline bar tells you he's a senator and they are discussing the Connecticut explosion. You turn up the volume slightly, so you can actually hear it.

“- leaked report states this was not an attack, but the attempted arrest of an Enhanced individual gone wrong. Allegedly, the destruction of a neighborhood and the 634 deaths, dozens of which were children, was all caused by one man with powers. What are your thoughts on this, Senator Kelly?”

You frown at the new information. One person caused all that pain? Or are they just blaming one individual?

“Thank you for having me, Vicki,” the Senator says, and you already don't like him. He gives off a slimy vibe - like he doesn't care about anyone but himself. “I've read the report and I've been on the ground, talking to the people whose lives were destroyed, and I've got one question in mind: why were the good people of Stamford not made aware they were living next to a bomb? This individual, whose identity is still being hidden, only released one attack. One!”

Your eyes go wide at the statement. That can't be true. Can someone really have that much power inside of them? You can understand people like Iron Man with a bunch of missiles strapped to him, but someone who is Enhanced?

“What do you propose, Senator?” Vicki asks and something like dread turns in your stomach.

Matt reenters the room just as the vile man begins speaking again. He comes to stand by the couch, putting his hand on the cushion behind your shoulder.

“The American people deserve to know who they are living next to. We implemented this policy for sexual deviants, and we should do the same for these so-called Enhanced Individuals! The Sokovia Accords talks about registering ‘super heroes’,” Kelly uses air quotes around the word, a disgusted look on his face, “but this man wasn't a hero. He was a literal ticking time bomb and who knows how many more Enhanced Individuals are out there just like him. How would you feel if your neighbor could blow up your house with a wave of their arm, or walk through your walls, or Heaven-forbid, control you with their mind? S.H.I.E.L.D showed us all those people existed! How are we supposed to protect ourselves against that? Whose stopping those people from causing the next Sokovia, or Lagos, or Stamfo-”

You turn off the television. You can't hear any more of that man's rancid words and implications.

You tilt your head up to look at Matt and your heart pangs for him. He's openly scowling and in the corner of your eye, you see him gripping the couch cushion tightly.

Your body acts without thought and you reach up to squeeze his bicep, “Matt...?”

“He's talking about people like they are uncontrollable weapons,” he grinds out, “this is McCarthy Era ‘everyone who isn't you is a threat’ bullshit.”

“I know,” you say to try to soothe some of the anger you see boiling in him. You understand the anger and you are angry, too. You think Matt falls under the umbrella of ‘Enhanced Individuals’ and if so, Minnie does as well. It terrifies you that someone who is supposed to be running the country is spitting out such words, but you want to believe he's in the fringe. You want to believe your government doesn't think your daughter is a threat just because she's different. “He's vile.”

With his free hand, Matt wipes at his mouth, still looking furious, “everything he is saying goes against the Constitution. People have the right to privacy.”

You gently tug on his arm, and he takes the signal to come around and sit beside you. You turn to face him, and he does the same, and you decide to take the initiative. You want him to feel better.

You are slow with your movements, so he can figure out your intentions, and unclip the bow from his hair. His eyes flutter shut before he takes a deep, calming breath, “I can't believe they let people like him on the news.”

You hum, then remove his necklace before going for the earrings, “I can. They love to stir the pot and giving those horrible people airtime gets them more views. They don't care about what's being said, only how much money they are getting for it “

“That's bleak,” he grumbles.

“It's better than the networks believing that bullshit,” you reply, as you pluck the red gems from his face. That makes him huff and a little smile form on his lips.

“You're good at this.”

“At what?” You ask as you set aside the jewelry on the table and grab the wet wipes.

“Defusing the situation, turning the negative into a positive,” he says. He keeps his eyes closed as you start to wipe away the makeup Minnie caked onto him, starting with his rouge.

“Is it a positive the news wants money instead of spewing hate?” You counter, a little bit of a tease in your voice. He reaches out and squeezes your knee and you can't help but smile. “Though, I guess it is better to be a capitalist than a Nazi.”

“That's the American way of thinking,” Matt jokes and you have to stop cleaning away the makeup so you can both laugh.

You fall back into silence as you start in on his eye shadow. He keeps his hand on your knee, slowly beginning to rub his thumb back and forth over your sweats. You can practically see the tension bleeding out of his shoulders and a bit of pride swirls in your chest. You feel guilty for turning on and listening to the news in the first place.

When it comes time for you to wipe away the stain on Matt's lips, you hesitate.

You've been trying to ignore the feelings that have been slowly growing inside you. You thought of them as weeds - byproducts of Matt being naturally charming and kind and the father of your child. You know you are attracted to him - you slept with him, after all - but emotionally?

You're terrified of that.

You're terrified of him not returning the feelings.

You're terrified you only see what he allows you to see, and when the facade drops, someone else will appear.

You're terrified of messing everything up - for yourself. For Minnie.

You don't want to think of your dreams, where you know it's him you are imagining. You don't want to think about how perfect it felt to be held by him and know you were safe. You don't want to think about how he still hasn't left you since you had to be taken to the hospital.

You can't fall down that rabbit hole. It's too much for you.

So, you try to rip away the things growing inside you before they bloom and push forward. You fold the wet wipe in half and begin to remove the last of the makeup. You don't rush, taking just as much care as you had getting rid of the blue sparkles.

“All done,” you say as you finish and pull away from him, turning purposefully so his hand slides off your leg. You pretend to not notice and focus on balling up the used wipes.

“Thank you,” he responds quietly, turning as well so he's facing the television once again. You fear things are going to dip into awkwardness, but Matt speaks again before you get to say something stupid. His words are soft and steady, but strike fear into your heart.

“There was something I wanted to talk with you about.”

You try to swallow down your anxiety and tell yourself that this isn't about your silly emotions - whatever Matt has to say must be regarding Minnie. It's the only thing that makes sense, so you come out a small “Yeah?”

“I wanted to talk to you about my mother.”

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@lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday

@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos @resting-confused-face

#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #and then i met you

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darknebula85 · 2 months ago

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23/11/2024, Log of DARKNEBULA85, 1:16 PM...

SPOILERS: Special Edition, Arcane Season 2, Episodes 7-8-9...

As I’m writing this, it’s 4:20 in the morning. I’m on a 24-hour shift, but here I am, watching the new episodes as they’ve just come out. The hype I’m feeling is so intense that I’m not even a little bit sleepy. Episode 7 is both the most beautiful and the most heartbreaking thing I’ve seen in this series. I spent the entire episode thinking, "If only everything had gone right, this is how it all could have ended…” Seeing all the characters together and alive (except Vi) made me so happy, yet it was killing me inside because, in our reality, it’s the complete opposite.Can we all agree that Ekko is the hero of this series??? A guy who had everything taken from him, suddenly gets it all back, and then has to give it up again to save his people. He succeeds in the end, but it’s still so tragic, he accomplished his mission but was left alone, without his family, friends, or the girl he loved. It’s devastating.I was absolutely crushed by the death of my favorite psychotic blue-haired girl because I held onto hope until the very last second that she would survive… But alas, it seems that in both universes, the sisters can’t be happy together. One of them always has to die. Still, I’m glad they each had someone to lean on as they mourned their lost sister (Vi with Cait, Powder with Ekko). And Heimerdinger? My poor little guy died, and no one even noticed. At least he went out happy, knowing he gave someone else the chance to achieve what he couldn’t. And Jayce… I always had faith in him. I’ve supported him since the first season, and I held back from criticizing him in earlier episodes because I knew there was a reason behind his actions. And, oh boy, there sure was. By the way, Ambessa’s design is hands down my favorite, what an absolutely spectacular character design. And the ending… It’s perfect. Everything about this series is perfect. I’ve tried to think of a single bad thing about it, and I just can’t. I don’t think we’ll see another show this perfect for a long time, it’s a true masterpiece in every sense of the word.I really hope the creators expand this universe. There’s still so much left to explore and so many storylines to wrap up, like the Black Rose. If you’ll excuse me, I’m now going to cry myself to sleep, considering I haven’t slept since 8 a.m. yesterday.

Yo seguiré en negación creyendo para mi mismo que Jinx sigue viva

Edit 10:53 PM... DUDE I’m at a party, and there’s literally a guy who looks EXACTLY like Vander. Same clothes, same hair, same beard, same size… I feel like crying and I want to die 😭

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blueberrylovv · 4 months ago

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masterlist

@blu3b3rryl0v <- bąckup

the 'think [colour]' series:

#1 green #2 yellow #3 red #4 green #5 brown #6 blue #7 pink #8 orange #9 brown #10 white #11 green #12 orange #13 purple #14 pink #15 green #16 dark red #17 dark purple/black #18 pink #19 orange #20 brown

if you work hard this could be your spring/summer/autumn/winter the vision boards:

2014 tumb|r a lazy day inside and drinking coffee angel (male) autumn basketball girl batman (male) beach trip black swan ballet bucky barnes/winter soldier (male) can't the leaves turn brown faster cat/neko girl chappelł róan vibes coquette (poc) coquette dark academia dark green emo emo boy (male) estern europe nostalgia/smutno mi boże fairy (poc) girls with glasses girl with horses goth green goddess green it girl horror video game protagonist kogal light academia long hair don't care male poc manifesting this for october mcbling mermaid (poc) morute natasha romanoff/black widow pilates princess pink summer punk boy (male) punk rockstar girlfriend sage selfcare day spiderman (male) spiderman #2 (male) strawberry the 2014 tvmbłr grunge tvmblr 2014 twilight vampire white and chrome winter zombie

you can send in requests my inbox is always open

tags for this blog:

#thinkcolour - the 'think [colour]' series #beagossip - for answering asks that aren't board requests (aka just sweet messages or giving ideas/advice/perspective) #beathechef - pictures of my męąls (if you would like the recipe/ingredients just lmk under the post or via inbox id love to share so you can also make it) #beatheyapper - just for random yapping yk as one does #beaboards

#thinkcolour #beagossip #beathechef #beatheyapper #beaboards

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javierpena-inatacvest · 11 months ago

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Promises

Summary: When you wake up to find your house quiet, your first reaction is panic. But after you find Javi and learn what he has planned for you this morning, your mood becomes a whole lot better.

Pairing: Dad!Javi x Wife!reader (Reader's nickname is Osita, no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4.1K (Y'all I wrote this in like a few hours I was feeling some typa way)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (don't do this pls but also they want another baby), vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving) creampie, cum play (ig??), praise kink, the biggest, fattest, nastiest breeding kink (... Don't look at me), ass slapping (but affectionately), mentions of body insecurity post pregnancy, Javi being the biggest menace of all time (this man has a MOUTH on him, lawd have mercy), Javi being the best husband and literally being so in love, it's honestly sickening, Chucho patiently waiting for his next grandchild 9 months from now LMAO

A/N: ... Hey... I'm gonna need all of you to not look at me for the next 7-10 business days after this one.... I'm not sure what's in the water over here, but uh... Yeah. I'll leave it at that. Thanks to @endlessthxxghts for letting me share my horny thots about our favorite dad, sorry for waking up on the feral side of the bed this morning 🥴

Part of the Forever and Always Series!

It was quiet.

Way too quiet.

You couldn’t remember a time in the past 5 years where you had woken up to the house being so silent.

No TV, no commotion, no little squeals and giggles from your girls waiting impatiently for you to get up and out of bed, and if you weren’t already confused enough, you rolled over to be greeted by the empty space where your husband should have been, the usual warmth left radiating after he had gotten out of bed before you long gone.

But the real kicker was that when you turned back over again to peek at the flashing numbers of your alarm clock, your eyes went wide at a number that you hadn’t seen since well before kids.

10:39 A.M.

“Jesus Christ…” You whispered to yourself, frantically rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and tossing the comforter off of your body before scrambling out of bed in distress, as your brain pieced together the worst sort of panicked puzzle as to why it was so late, so quiet, and Javi was nowhere to be found.

You pushed open the bedroom door, peeking into the hallway, just as ghostly and empty as you had suspected, each of your daughter’s bedroom doors wide open with neither of them in sight. Rushing back down the hall towards your stairs before stopping in front of Javi’s office, you paused your search at the sound of familiar, muffled humming coming from behind the door.

Pushing it open, you were shocked to see the image of your husband sitting at his desk, leaning back in his seat with a book in his hand and feet propped up against the wooden surface, quietly humming to himself as he turned a page, seeming completely unbothered by his solitude. As the door creaked open further, it caught Javi’s attention, peeking up from over his book with a smile on his face as he dogeared his current page, pushing himself out of his chair to walk towards you.

“Wow, look who’s up! I was gonna give you ‘til 11:00 before I really started to get worried. How’d you sleep, Hermosa?” He cooed, wrapping his arms around you to pull you in for a hug, pressing a soft kiss into the sleepy tangles of your hair, gently cupping your face and forcing your worried gaze up towards him.

“Javi, what’s- what’s going on? Where are the girls? Is everything ok-” Before you could finish the rest of your thought, Javi’s lips were pressed against yours, the familiar bitterness of black coffee and minty gum still lingering in his mouth as he caught the rest of your sentence with his kiss, the hand cupping your cheek now letting his thumb swipe gently across your soft skin.

“Relájete, mi amor (relax, my love)” Javi laughed, pressing another kiss onto your forehead, smiling down at you, “I know how tired you’ve been the past couple of weeks, and rightfully so. You take such good care of our girls- you are the most incredible mom to them, but it’s only fair that you deserve a break every once and a while, too. So,” he smirked, tightening his grip around your waist, letting his hand creep slowly towards your ass, “I asked my dad last night if I could drop Lucy and Elliot off with him this morning so we could have a day just the two of us. He’s more than happy to keep ‘em for as long as we want, so I figured I'd take him up on the offer and I can get some time alone with my beautiful wife to help her relax and show her how much I appreciate her.”

You could the anxiety and worry instantly wash away from your body, the fear that had been consuming you since you had woken up now replaced by excited butterflies swirling in your stomach, heat creeping through your cheeks as you smiled back up at him, tears welling in your eyes in appreciation for how goddamn lucky you were to have someone who cared about you as much as Javi did.

“Thank you.” You whispered, biting at the inside of your lip to try and keep yourself from crying, Javi immediately tilting your chin up towards him in response, softly swiping away the wetness pooling in your eyes.

“Hermosa…” He cooed, looking you up and down with an empathetic smirk, brushing a stray piece of hair from your bed head out of your face, tucking it behind your ear, “It’s the least I could do. Now, why don’t you go get back into bed. I picked up a breakfast sandwich and coffee for you from Leo’s on the way back from Pop’s place, figured you might be hungry, considering you slept until almost lunch time. And after you finish eating,” He rasped, leaning his head down to nip at your neck, the hot words of his breath dancing against your skin, the shift in his tone instantly sparking a fire in your core, “I think I might be feeling hungry, too.”

“You are a menace, I hope you know that.” You sighed, trying with every ounce in you to keep your composure, the tickle from Javi’s mustache at least providing some relief from the tension as you burst out into giggles, Javi playing along by digging his fingers into your hips, running his hands along your sides until you had exploded into a fit of laughter, flailing and squirming in his broad grasp. “Stop it, you meanie! You can’t just promise me food and sex and then hold me hostage like this!”

Finally releasing you, Javi grabbed your face to pull you in for another kiss, this one slow and tender, an electric energy pulsing between the two of you as your lips brushed against one another, only pulling away after Javi’s hand planted a loving smack on your ass, making you squeal in surprise.

“Go get your ass back in bed, Osita. I’ll be back in a second with breakfast.”

“Okay.” You giggled, turning back on your heels out the door, but not before turning back around to peek your head through the doorway with a sneaky grin on your face. “And you’ll also be back with sex?”

“Baby, you have no fucking idea.”

As you jumped back into bed, tucking yourself back into your sheets, it wasn’t long before Javi was back in your room with the first part of his promised bargain- Your favorite breakfast sandwich and an extra large coffee, grinning in delight as he passed both over to you before settling next to you, wrapping your arm around your shoulder as you demolished the better part of your food.

“Oh my god, I haven’t had one of these in so long. God, I love you so much.” You sighed, taking another bite of your breakfast as Javi laughed at the ferocity at which your sandwich had disappeared. “I bet the image of this is really doing a lot turn you on for the second half of your promise. If I would have known, I would have at least put on cuter pajamas.” You snickered, gesturing down to your nearly finished food and Javi’s worn, oversized shirt and boxers you still had draped over your body.

“Shut up. You know I think you look sexy in anything. I love seeing you in my clothes. Drives me fucking crazy. I don’t think I’ll ever get over it.” Javi smirked, rubbing his hand along your thigh, his thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin.

“You just like it when I don’t wear a bra.” You snorted, rolling your eyes at Javi as you crumpled up the wrapper of your finished sandwich, setting it on your nightstand before rolling over to rest your head on Javi’s chest, draping one of your arms across his stomach. “You’re sweet, Jav. Sexy in anything seems like a bit of a stretch, there’s about half my closest I refuse to make eye contact with after having Elliot.”

You let out a quiet sigh, trying to hide the frown pursed between your lips, thinking about how much your body had changed since the first time you had ever worn Javi’s clothes all those years ago. Two kids and lots of time later, you couldn’t help feel a little self conscious about how different you looked from when the two of you had first met. And even though Javi said it to you all the time, it was much easier said than done to always believe it yourself.

“Hey…” Javi replied softly, looking down at you with a frown on his own face, “Osita, you know I’m being serious, right?”

“Well, you’re my husband, you kind of have to be.” You huffed, half forcing your laughter as you immediately began to feel yourself become more and more conscious of your weight laying on top of him, almost trying to shift yourself away before Javi’s hand was wrapped around your back, pulling you over to lay completely on top of him and forcing you to look at his serious expression.

“Out of all the women in the world, you are the only one I ever want. You are just as beautiful, if not even more beautiful than the day I first met you, you know why? Because your beautiful body that I love every fucking inch of has grown and carried our daughters. You’ve made me a dad, you’ve given us a family, you are the most incredible wife and mom I could ever imagine. Baby, if that’s not the fucking sexiest thing, then I don’t know what to tell you.” You could feel the warmth blooming in your chest as Javi looked up at you with his sweet brown eyes, his hands roaming down the sides of your body until his fingers were digging into your hips and ass, kneading the soft flesh in his grasp. “Promise me.”

“Promise you what?” You whispered, an ache beginning to grow between your legs as you could feel Javi’s bulge hardening beneath you, his hands roaming relentlessly around your body, making it hard for you to even think straight.

“Promise me,” He paused, nipping at your neck, the bridge of his nose dragging along the side of your face until his mouth was ghosting over your ear, his words dancing against your skin, “Promise me that you believe me. That I think that you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. That I know you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. That I love your body so fucking much, that I wanna put another baby into it.”

His last sentence had your heart literally skipping a beat, a quiet moan escaping from your lips as Javi carefully rolled your body off of his, flipping you onto your back and caging you under his broadness, planting hot, wet kisses down your neck as his fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt, his hands creeping below the fabric to palm at your breasts, rolling your pebbled nipples between his fingers as he waited for your response. Unfortunately, the best you could muster was a soft gasp of his name.

“Fuck… Javi.”

“That what you want, Hermosa? For me to fuck another baby into you, huh?”

Javi knew it was exactly what you wanted, the two of you agreeing you were going to try for a third a few weeks ago, considering he was almost more ecstatic at the thought of growing your family than you were, and that the thought of knocking you up was something that made both of you absolutely insatiable.

With the wet patch in your underwear growing damper and damper by the second, you barely had enough power in your brain to respond, especially now that Javi had pulled your shirt over your head, letting his kisses travel down your collarbone, chest, and now to your breasts, taking the nipples that he had been toying with between his fingers into his mouth, his tongue flicking and sucking at the harden buds as your moans began to grow like the fire in your belly.

“Yes, oh fuck- yes. I want you to fuck another baby into me, Javi. Please.” You whimpered, your body squirming under his touch as he let his kisses drift down your stomach and hips, his fingers hooking over your shorts to pull them down off your legs, gently nudging them to fall open for him as he nestled himself between, admiring the wet, aching mess you had already become.

“Then you have to promise me,” He smirked, draping each of your legs over his shoulders as he brought his face to your soaking heat, gently kissing your clit and letting the strong bridge of his nose ghost over your folds, “You have to promise me that you believe me. That you believe that you’re the most fucking beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Then, I’ll fuck another baby into you, okay? Can you do that for me, Momma?”

“I- I- pr-promise.” Your voice trembled, ragged with want and desperation as Javi’s mouth hovered painstakingly still over your cunt, waiting for you to fulfill your promise so he could fill you with his.

“There’s my good girl.” He cooed, feeling his smug smile bury itself into your pussy, letting a long, broad stroke of his tongue drag through your folds, the satisfying sensation making you shutter, your hips instinctively bucking towards Javi’s face as his grip around your legs tightened to hold you in place. His tongue languidly dragged across your cunt, slowly circling around your clit, soaking up the juices of your arousal that had been pooling between your legs, drinking up every single last drop.

He let the presses of his tongue become firmer and more focused as he unhooked one of his arms, snaking his arm between your legs to gently press two fingers into your soaking entrance, easily sliding through your slick to curl against the soft spot inside you that had you relentlessly crying out his name.

You couldn’t help but feel your bottom half squirm against your sheets, reaching down to tug at the dark curls of Javi’s hair, trying to find any sort of relief to keep from being a loud, moaning and whimpering mess as his tongue worked along your cunt, lapping you up like a man starved. His mouth latched along your clit, sucking at your sensitive bundle of nerves as his fingers pumped inside you, making the tingle at the base of your spine already begin to build in a needy desperation.

“Javi, holy fuck- oh my god baby, don’t stop, please don’t stop.” You whimpered, somehow managing to keep your voice just above a whisper as Javi pulled away to respond, still holding a steady pace with his hand as he felt your pussy start to flutter around his fingers.

“I’ve got you, Hermosa. Want you to soak my face before I feel you cum again around my cock. Give it to me, baby. Cum all over me before I fucking fill you up.”

With that, he was back between your legs, relentlessly working along your heat with his mouth as the coil in your belly wound so tightly, you were on the brink of snapping.

“Javi, Javi, Javi, oh shit- Fuck, fuck, I’m gonnaahhhhhhhhh.”

It was barely seconds before your orgasm flooded through your body, pleasure spreading through every inch of you as you clenched around Javi’s fingers, soaking his hand and face with your arousal as you came, screaming out his name as you reached your high.

That’s it, Hermosa.” Javi smirked, squeezing his hand into the meat of your thigh as you rode out your orgasm, still slowly fucking you with his fingers as you came undone around them, your cunt clamping down on the delicious curve of his digits. Javi peeked his head back up as your breathing began to even out, your chest rising and falling in satisfaction as his kisses began to travel back up your body, stopping at your neck to take extra time to nip along your jawline, his teeth tugging at your earlobe as his voice rasped against your skin.

“Such a good girl for me, Osita. So fucking wet. Fuck, I need to feel you, baby.”

Before you even had time to catch your breath, Javi had his arms wrapped around your waist, flipping you over on to your stomach, dragging his hands down your back, stopping at your ass to grab a handful of the plump flesh and smack it, nudging your legs to spread open for him wider, pushing them out with his own.

Javi worked behind you quickly and methodically, shedding himself of all of his clothes to free his painfully hard cock from his boxers, leaking with precum from the minute he had thought of the prospect of putting another baby in you.

He stroked himself a few times, using his other hand to swipe through your folds, coating his fingers in your slick before wrapping them around his cock, now shiny with your arousal as he lined up with your entrance, filling you up inch by inch, almost painfully slowly, until he had bottomed out inside you, his hips flushed against your ass, letting you adjust to the sweet sting of his stretch.

“Javi… Move, baby, please. I need to feel yo- Oh fuck!” You whimpered, your words drowned out by your moans as Javi had pulled himself out, only to thrust his whole length back into, gritting his teeth while a groan rumbled deep in his chest, draping his body over yours, burying one of his hands in your hair, gently tugging at the ends as he whispered into your ear, keeping his slow and meticulous pace.

“You wanna feel me too, sweet girl? Wanna feel me fill you up when I fuck every last drop into you? Fuck myself so deep inside you it’ll fucking take? That what you want, baby?”

“Yes, fuck, fuck, yes, please. Fuck, I want you fuck a baby into me, Javi. I wanna make you a Daddy again.”

Another deep moan feel from Javi’s lips, scooping his hand under you to sit in his lap, your back flushed against his chest, one hand palming at your breast, the other wrapped around your waist, holding you in place as his pace began to increase, just enough to hear the wetness between the two of you with each thrust of his hips.

You couldn’t help but let your bottom half grind deeper into each stroke, pushing yourself further and further down onto his cock, the sweet stretch of his fullness making your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head, the wanton moans and whimpers babbling from your mouth almost as lewd as the sounds your bodies made as they melded into one another as you let him take everything you had to give.

“Fuck me- That’s what you want, Momma? Fuck, I can’t wait to get you pregnant. See how beautiful you look carrying our baby again. Let everyone know you’re fucking mine with our baby growning inside you.” Letting his hand shift from your breast, he began sliding it up your chest, wrapping it around your jaw to tilt your head over your shoulder towards him, staring into his deep brown eyes before engulfing your lips in a long, wet kiss, your mouths becoming a tangled mess of tongue and teeth without ever relenting his pace.

His other hand dipped between your legs to circle your clit, still sensitive and swollen from your first orgasm, now throbbing even harder from his touch and feeling the heat beginning to bloom in your belly as you felt your second high begin to approach.

Javi knew just as well as you did that you were close to cumming again, feeling your pussy begin to flutter around his cock as his hips slapped against yours, breaking from your kiss to tug your earlobe between his teeth.

“Give me one more, Osita. Cum all over my cock and I’ll fill you up. Fill up this pretty little pussy ‘til she’s fucking stuffed and it’s got no choice but to fucking take and I knock you up.”

“You promise?” You whispered, your breath shaky and legs trembling as Javi rubbed tighter, faster circles around your clit, still cradling your jaw to force your gaze on him.

“I promise, baby. I fucking promise.”

Almost instantly, you could feel the coil that had been winding tighter and tighter in your core suddenly began to snap, screaming out Javi’s name as you felt your second orgasm crash through you, consuming every inch of your body in euphoria, feeling like you had turned to Jello, the only thing keeping you up being Javi’s firm grasp around you.

“That’s it, sweet girl. That’s it. Fuck, I’m close too, baby.” He mewled, his pace becoming frantic and sloppy as he held you up, fucking you through your high with reckless abandon, wanting to, no needing, to make sure he made good on his promise- that in 9 months from now, you’d have one more member in your family.

Even though you were barely hanging on by a thread, you could feel Javi’s grip tightening around your jaw, tilting it back towards him, the firm pressure cupping your face enough to force your eyes open to meet the wrecked and ragged expression plastered across his face.

“Eyes on me, Hermosa. Fuck, I need to- mierda- need to see that pretty face when I fuck you full of me. God, I love you so much, I love you so-ahhhhhhh, fuck.” It was then Javi’s turn to follow suit, only needing a few more pumps before he thrusted up once more, keeping himself buried deep inside your cunt as hot ropes of his spend covered your walls, making sure to milk himself of every last drop before even thinking of pulling out.

Holding you in place still sitting on his cock, you could feel the mixture of the two of you beginning to drip down your thighs, prompting Javi to gently ease you off of him, letting your back hit the bed as carefully lifted your hips to slip one of the pillows underneath your bottom half, briefly admiring the wet mess between your legs before taking two fingers and collecting the arousal that had leaked from your cunt, attentively dragging it up your thighs and pushing it back into your heat, making you gasp at the sensation.

“Gonna keep you full of me all day, sweet girl. Gotta make good on my promise.” He smirked, leaning down to pepper soft kisses to the inside of your thighs before slowly making his way back up your body, stopping at your lips for another tender kiss.

“Given what just happened, I think you’re trying to kill me before you can make good on that promise, Jav. Jesus Christ.” You sighed, your voice riddled with breathy giggles as you playfully nudged your husband, now lying next to you, pulling you in to rest against the warmth of his bare chest. “You think Peña number 3 is gonna make an appearance soon?”

“Like I said, mi amor, promise is a promise.” He smirked, boyish grin plastered across his face as he laid your hand across your stomach, gently rubbing it back and forth across your skin. “Plus, I think the girls will be thrilled to have another sister.”

“Sister, huh? We don’t even know if there’s a baby in there yet you dork, let alone what it’s gonna be.” You snickered, rolling your eyes at Javi.

“Been right about the other two. I’ll bet you all the breakfast sandwiches you want that it is.”

“You’re absolutely ridiculous, I hope you know that. Thank you for this morning, Jav. The girls and I are so lucky to have you. I love you so much.” You sighed contently, smiling into Javi’s soft skin.

“I love you too, Hermosa. All of you are the best things that have ever happened to me. All of my girls.” He winked, gently squeezing the curves of your belly, gesturing towards the daughter he proudly assumed he would be meeting in 9 months.

“Well, all of us, or your new son and my unlimited amount of breakfast sandwiches.” you snickered, “When did your dad need us to go pick up the girls? We probably owe him a few breakfast sandwiches for watching the gremlins on such short notice.”

“He said any time later today. Which means…” He smiled, caging his body over yours once again, as much time as we need to make sure that I win our bet.”

“Game on, Peña.”

Taglist: @cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @pedr0swh0r3

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sunrisesfromthewest · 5 months ago

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First Encounter Part 11 (Final)

Warnings/Summary: Mentions of Hospital | Coma/Medical staff | Pregnancy/Giving Birth/ Fights/Guns | Rafe and Armando 🫢| Reader reunites with Armando with an unexpected bundle of joy😉(Mike and Marcus being proud GRANDPARENTS 😁)

Previous Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

This is the last part for this series hope you Enjoy!💕💕💕💕

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“....……I need you to wake up mi amor.... please........Y/N WAKE UP!” Armando shouts.

Frowning you attempt to shift against your bed at the sound of Armandos voice, but something was weighing you down. Opening your eyes felt like the hardest thing in the world but eventually, you were able to slowly force them open, but the only thing you could see was blurry colors.

Blinking a few times your vision cleared as you move your gaze around the room and to the constant beeping noise making you realize you're in a hospital. At the moment, the room was empty but you could see a whole bunch of balloons and flowers, sitting on a counter. Leaving you even more confused as you look for Armando, but pausing when you feel something shift against your stomach.

Glancing down you see a black furry cat laying against your stomach, tilting your head you reached a hand down to poke it; causing it to purr as it bumps its head against your hand.

“M-Midnight?” you croak out voice hoarse from not using it but the cat seemed to perk up from hearing its name.

Pulling the cat up to lay on your chest, left you concerned when you still feel like you're being weighed down. Using the bed bar to pull yourself up, you glanced at the blanket on you wondering if it’s one of those heavy ones.

After pushing it off of you, you felt no relief which made you whine, but once your eye landed on your stomach you screamed. Moving as fast as you could to get out of the bed, Midnight jumps off of your chest as you stand on weak wobblily legs. Ivs and monitors harshly rip off of you, and crash on the floor along with your frail body after taking a step.

Hearing the alarms go off in your room made Marcus and Theresa drop their coffees, dashing straight towards your room, that was now surrounded by medical staff.

Crying you push at your swollen stomach with fear, as you feel something press back at your hand. Seeing your colleagues try to comfort you only made you more frighten because at the moment you don’t really know why your here and being surrounded by all these people with no Armando only made your heart beat faster with fear.

“Y/N! Baby it’s okay don’t be scared I got you.” Marcus says pushing through the crowd as he squats down next to your weak form, trying to calm you down so you wouldn’t mess up your recovery process.

“What happened? Where's Mando? Why am I in a hospital?” you whimpered as Marcus picks you up to place you back on the bed.

Pausing to look at Theresa who frowns she makes her way over to you, while tucking your hair behind your ear, “Y/N baby we’ll tell you everything after a while but I need you to relax for momma, okay”

Groaning when your head begins to throb made you place your face in your hands, but feeling another shift inside your stomach had you jumping.

“Why the fuck I keep feeling something move inside of me...is it an alien?” you shrieked peering at your swollen belly that is covered by the hospital gown.

Laughing at your delirious state Marcus shakes his head, "Even worse......a Lowrey baby! I kept telling Theresa I wasn’t having those fish dreams for no reason but she didn’t believe me until I finally convinced her to get the doctor to do an ultrasound.”

Pausing he grabs your hand excitedly while gazing up at you with a smile, "My Baby having A Baby!”

Blinking at him a few times your vision begins to fade to black, as you fall back against the bed. “Dammit Marcus! I told you we needed to wait; she just woke up from a 6-month coma!” Theresa says angrily as the medical staff quickly begins to perform procedures.

The news that your father hit you with after just waking up from a medical induced coma, did not sit with you well, and the next day when you woke up you question your friend who just so happen to be your doctor to talk about it.

“Y/N I know this pregnancy caught you by surprised trust me it surprised us as well; we weren’t expecting you to be pregnant." He said glancing at your vitals, and medical charts," But when you kept rejecting the medication we were giving you for your recovery and with your father's persistence we decided to do an ultrasound.”

Stopping he glanced back up at you with concern, “Y/N as a friend and your doctor...... you and that child that your carrying is a miracle......on the way to the hospital I was told that you flat lined in the ambulance and when you were in surgery you died 3 times on the table.”

Shocked you glanced down at yourself, hesitantly placing a hand on your stomach, and smiling slightly when you feel a kick against your hand.

“This pregnancy is going to be rough since you're still recovering but I believe that the little of bundle of joy, you have inside you will encourage you to keep fighting.” He said passing you ultrasound pictures from each month before walking out the door to give you privacy.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Upon hearing that your awake everyone made their rounds to visit you starting with your sister, nephew, Reggie and your new niece who you absolutely adored. Then Kelly and Dorn who pulled you into a big group hug, talking about how there excited to be godparents, which made you roll your eyes but smile.

Also, Dorn who was showing off his healed bullet wound talking about, "This my dope ass battle scar...and new excuse to see my therapist more, to which you're still going to by the way." causing you and Kells to side eye him like he was crazy.

Next was Rita who brought you an adorable get well soon bear, while telling you about her new man, which made you raise your eyebrow but she assured you he had no dirty on him. After talking with you for a while she was called back to the precinct but before she left, she pulled you into a tight hug saying get well soon and congratulations.

Hearing a knock at the door woke you up out of your sleep, but when you look up you see Mike and Christine walking in with flowers and big smiles on their faces, "What are y’all doing here?” you yawn while leaning up to give Christine a hug then doing the same with Mike.

“Girl stops acting surprised you knew the moment I received that call from your daddy he wouldn’t had stop until I came up here.” Mike says moving back to set the flowers on the bedside table and to get a good look at you.

Chuckling you say I know, while watching their eyes move to your stomach, "Looks like you are going to be a grandparent after all.” you giggled as Mike rolls his eyes.

“I’m too young to be a grandpa and don’t remind me your Daddy already talking about that I need to trade my car in for something more baby proof.” Mike stated, crossing his arms as he makes a face about giving away his Porsche.

“And work on your driving skills.” Christine mutters making you laugh harder as Mike turns to her offended.

” I am an excellent driver thank you very much!” he objected watching as you and Christine glance at each other before laughing.

“The fuck y’all ‘he he heing’ for ain’t nobody said anything funny." Mike grumbles as he walks away towards the door, when he hears knocking but starts grumbling more once he sees who it was.

“Fix that negative energy it ain’t good for the baby!" Marcus says walking over to you as Theresa rolls her eyes at her husband behavior, while actually stopping to greet Mike.

“THERE GOES MY BEAUTIFUL GIRL! How you feeling baby girl!” Marcus exclaims loudly while reaching over to bring you into a tight hug, and then pressing a kiss on your forehead.

“Now your loud ass is what’s not good for the baby!” Mike protested, walking back to the bed, as Marcus shifted his attention to Mike, making you and your mom share a knowing look before she pulls you into a tight hug.

Watching as they began to bicker over what’s good for the baby you see Christine leans towards you and your mom while saying imagine when the baby gets here, causing you three to burst out laughing.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

After doing multiple rounds of therapy, and going through many tests for you and the baby. The Doctor finally decided to discharge you after being in the hospital two more months, making you now 8 months pregnant. But not without 24-hour supervision which made you groan already knowing that everyone was going to be a pain in your ass.

Flinching slightly at the small pinching sensation in your shoulder, made you sigh as you continue to slip on your dress. Belly now too big for regular clothes, and with you still healing it was just easier to wear dresses.

Hearing knocks you watch as your parents walk in your room with a nurse following in with a wheelchair, making you shake your head, "That want be needed.” you said slipping into your crocs, and standing up.

But after taking a couple steps towards your parents, your already out of breath, placing one hand on your stomach and the other on your back had your mom laughing as she takes the wheelchair from the nurse.

“Baby I already know.” Theresa says helping her daughter sit in the wheelchair, and laughing more when she hears you release a sigh of relief.

“I’m still not getting used to this whole pregnancy thing.” you sighed watching them gather your get-well gifts and personal belongings. Passing you a few things to hold, Marcus gazes around the room to make sure that was everything before turning towards you.

“I know Y/N/N but look at it on the brightside you’ll be meeting and holding your baby in a month!” your dad beamed, giving you a few things before wheeling you out the room, Theresa walking beside him humming in agreement.

“Yay!” you mumble sarcastically but in all honest you were really excited to see the baby, especially after deciding to wait until you give birth to figure out the gender.

As you enter the elevator you begin texting in the sibling group chat laughing at something dumb, they sent “Y/N/N what are you looking at?” Theresa said gazing at your phone, making you place it on your chest muttering nosey.

“Probably Jr saying some stupid shit...I swear that boy be around your side of the family too much.” Marcus says pushing you out the elevator once you guys reach the entrance to the hospital. Rolling her eyes Theresa moves past him to set the things in the SUV, before smacking the back of his head.

“I see now where you get that hitting from.” Marcus whined as he rubs the sore spot on his head before locking the wheelchair in place.

Groaning as you stand up thankfully with the help of your mom, you roll your eyes at your father's comment while using your good arm to slide yourself slowly into the back seat. “Y/N stop rolling your eyes before they get stuck like that!” your mom said closing your door and moving to the passenger seat.

“Yeah, you better or that baby gonna come out cocked eyed!” Marcus joked, closing the driver door while laughing but immediately stopping as he sees you and Theresa give him the same glare.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Upon entering your parents' house, your eyes shifted around the foyer wondering why it was so dark in their home, "Hey did y’all forget to pay the light bill?” you questioned as you search along the wall for the light switch.

Finding it you flick it on but instantly jump when you hear multiple shouts of surprise from your family and friends standing at the entrance. Shocked you gaze around the room feeling tears fill your eyes as you see the welcome home signs/slash baby shower decor.

Opening your mouth to speak only made you burst out in tears as you really take in this sweet moment. Seeing this had everyone concerned until your mom spoke up, "She's okay guys...she’s just overwhelmed. Kelly gone ahead and help her to the living room!”

Taking Kelly hand, you smile at her as you wobbled over to the recliner with her help, "Girl, you should’ve given me a heads up or something!” you sniffed, voice wobbling as you ease onto the recliner, making midnight jump onto the armrest.

Shaking her head she glances around before saying, "And face the wrath of two Grandzillas I don’t think so we’ve been walking around egg shells around those two!”

“Grandzillas! They ain’t been that ba-” hearing multiple voices cut you off with disagreements, had you raising your brows in disbelief.

“It’s been so bad around those two that we can’t even mention baby befo-” as Dorn attempts to explain the drama, they’ve been facing Marcus cuts in.

“Baby!?! Y’all talking about how it’s going to be a girl!” Marcus exclaims happily but Mike shouts in disagreement, “NOPE! We already talked about this, It’s definitely a boy!”

Already feeling a headache coming you glance at Kelly and Dorn with understand as you hear the two start arguing. The day continues with you opening gifts and playing some games before you grew tired, making you step away to take a nap as everyone continues to party.

Hearing Mike call out your name had you stopping in front of your bedroom door, watching him walk towards you with an envelope. “I mean’t to give this to you at the hospital but I felt like it was the wrong time.” he said passing the sealed paper to you.

Lost you asked him what it was, causing him to give you a sad smile, "Before Armando left, he told me to give this to you.”

“Armando?... Have you heard anything from him?” you asked already knowing the answer but choosing to see if Mike will say something different. Peering at you he sees the hopeful look in your eyes, making his own shift away from yours, "I haven’t heard anything from him since the mission, we gave him a burner phone but it’s been nothing but radio silence these last 8 months.”

Frowning you glance at the envelope, smacking it lightly against your hand before sighing, "Thanks for this Mike...I’ve been wondering about him ever since I woke up. Do you have a burner...I want to...” pausing you clear your throat as you feel it tightening up from suppressing your tears. Nodding his head in understand he pulls a phone from his back pocket, "I keep one on me just in case he decides to ever call...If he picks up, please let me know.”

Taking the phone from him you whisper a thank you and I will, as you stand there a few moments before pulling him into a tight hug. Sobbing into his shoulder Mike holds you as close as he could without putting too much pressure on your belly.

Moving from the embrace you wipe at your eyes, “T-thanks Unc Mike.” you say giving him a nod before entering your room.

Wiping tears of his own Mike, decides to make a brief stop to the restroom before returning to the others, not wanting them to see the change in his mood.

Locking the door, you wobble over to your bed, and sit down while quickly ripping the envelope open. Pulling out the letter your gaze immediately land on the dried blood, making your eyes water as you wipe them to read his letter.

Dear Y/N,

If you're reading this Mi Amor that means Mike finally did one important thing for me as my father. I didn’t get the chance to fully explain to you how much I truly do love you, since we only had a limited time together in person. But during that time together you taught me how to love and protect someone other than myself. You showed me that it was okay to allow my emotions to showcase their true feelings without immediately putting up my defenses. Thank you for allowing me back into your heart, and showing me how to forgive and be forgiven; especially after my fuck up in Dorns kitchen. If I haven’t made it back to you yet whenever you read this just know I’m still fighting those odds, and I’ll be with you soon beautiful.

Also, if Marcus was correct about you being pregnant see it as me giving you someone to comfort you until I return and tell them that there responsible of you until I come back.

Your ONLY LOVE Mando

Feeling yourself shake as tears run down your face had you sobbing into your hand as you hug the letter against your chest. Knowing that Armando took his time to write you a short letter; had your pregnant emotions running haywire, you noticed with him it was the little things that always leave your heart aching for more.

Calming down you peer at the burner phone, immediately opening the contacts to see only one number making you pressing it quickly. Putting the phone on speaker you wait anxiously as it rings, and rub your belly as you feel a kick.

The phone going straight to voicemail left you sad but you decided to leave a message just in case, "Mando it’s me Y/n... I-I just read your l-letter...a-and I *sobs slightly* I just wanted to say that-t I’ll be waiting for y-you...... Also, my dad was right...there was a bun baking in the oven, and it almost done...*laughs lightly*.

Thank you for the parting gift by the way......... Mike and my dad are taking good care of me so don’t worry.....Mikes been worried about you tho..... I'll stop here before I start crying again, these pregnancy hormones are a bitch.... *sobs*.... if you get this, I’ll be giving birth sometime next month at the hospital I work at, I don’t know the gender yet so hopefully we can find out together...... I Love you, stay s-safe!” you said tone wavering as you send the voice message and end the call.

Glancing down you watch as the phone begin to shake from your trembling hands, causing it to fall to the floor. Everything becomes a blur as you move to lay down while placing a protective hand on your stomach, which in return made the baby shift.

“Don’t worry mommas alright.... just thinking about daddy.” you whisper as you feel the baby push against your belly, making you rub against the spot as you close your eyes. ///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Marcus holds open the door as you wobble your big 9-month self into the convenient store with determination. “Y/N/N why didn’t you stay in the car with Mike, I could’ve gotten your snacks you need to rest before the maternity shoot!" he says walking in himself while grabbing two ginger ales and skittles, before falling you towards the register.

“You ate my candy last time before you even reached the car, then gone have the nerve to say you were tasting it for the baby!" You stated knowing for a fact that he’s been using your pregnancy craving as an excuse to eat junk food again.

Asking the cashier for the candy behind him you hear your dad gasp loudly, “Y/N I know that’s not Tropical Fruit Bubbleicious!”

“I’m sorry it’s the only candy I’ve been craving the last few weeks and skittles ain’t been cutting it lately.” you explained immediately opening the candy and letting out a satisfied moan when its sweet flavors hit your tongue.

Smacking on the candy you hear your dad excitedly asks if you want a big pickle, turning you both stare at each other before grinning hard, "Make it two!” you blurted out while watching him set 4 onto the counter but not questioning it since you know he practically eat the same snacks you do.

Standing at the register as you two continue your big back activities, y’all failed to noticed the man pulling out his gun behind y'all, "I heard them boys taste good with fruit roll-ups wrapped around them!”

He added as he throws the candy on the counter with the rest of the snacks but as he reached a hand back for his wallet a gun enters his peripheral vision.

“Open the fucking register! Now!” the man snapped at the cashier making them freeze in place along with you and your dad.

“Why y’all ass always getting robbed! Y'all aint got no security yet!” Marcus commented as he glances at the cashier who just shrugs muttering, he don’t get paid enough for this.

Dropping the candy from your hand, you lean against the counter while feeling a brief moment of pain before something wet run down your legs, “Oh shit!”

Eyes widening in realization Marcus move over to support your weight while gazing back up at the thief,” Dammit boy you done caused her to go into labor......Fuck Mike finna be pissed!”

Before the man can even question your father's statement he hears the entrance bell ring, making him move his attention and aim at the door.

Stepping in talking loudly, Mike immediately pauses face becoming frustrated at the sight before him, "I told y’all five minutes now we late for the surp-, Marcus what’s all that shit on the register! Thought y’all ass said ginger ale only!”

“Is that really what your focused on right now Mike! The damn snacks!” Marcus exclaims as he hears you taking in deep breaths.

Watching as the two men began to bicker had the thief shift his gun between them anxiously but hearing your scream dragged his attention back to you.

“SHUT THE HELL UP AND GET ME TO THE FUCKING HOSPITAL!” you yelled gripping the counter tighter, as you start feeling contractions.

Quickly pulling out his gun Mike shoots the thief in the leg, while telling the cashier to call 911, making them yell aren’t y’all the police.

Putting his gun back in his holster and kicking the gun away from the screaming thief, Mike wraps an arm around your waist while him and Marcus help you back to the car but hearing you say stop makes them freeze, "GRAB THE SNACKS THEY NOT GONNA LET ME EAT WHEN I GET IN THERE!”

“Your right!” Marcus exclaim quickly throwing a 20 on the counter while scooping the treats up with his arms.

Rolling his eyes, Mike keeps a tight arm around your waist while walking towards the entrance, "This baby finna pop out and y’all worried about food!”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Upon entering the hospital, you see everyone and the photographer who was supposed to take your maternity pictures chilling in the waiting room. Confused your about to question Mike but another contraction had you clutching your stomach in pain, grabbing the attention of a few nurses who immediately takes you to a room.

Afte changing into a birthing gown and receiving epidural, you lay against the delivery bed; while angrily chewing on your cup of ice, Mike had snitched on you and your father making your mother take away all the snacks.

“I understand taking his away but why mines!” you snapped shaking your cup hard while you wait for an explanation. “Yeah, why can’t we eat in peace Theresa; you know we’re stress eaters!” Marcus adds.

Pointing an accusing finger at Marcus, she ignores him while directing her attention towards you, “Y/N/N all that junk food ain’t good so I brought you some okra water instead!” Theresa replied, pouring you a cup and placing it in your hands while taking your ice away.

Gagging at the slimey texture, you shake your head frantically as you force the cup back in her hands, "I ain’t drinking that shit!”

Shifting away from them you began mumbling to yourself, quietly cursing everyone out, but feeling a strong contraction hit you, had you grasping the railing.

“Are you oka-” before anyone can get the words out you cut them off.

“I’M FINE! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!” you growled, feeling yourself sweat while the pain wears off but the uncomfortable pressure remains.

Hearing a camera click had you snapping your head in the direction of the sound, making the photographer flinch as she freezes at your fearsome gaze.

Not wanting to risk any chances of not getting his deposit back, Mike steps in quickly before you could do or say something stupid, during your angry labor pain episode, "We got a surprise for you!”

Removing your pain-stricken eyes off the frighten photographer you briefly glance at Mike, shifting your tense frame to face away from them and towards the white walls as you mutter, "It better be my damn snacks!”

Ignoring the sound of the room door opening and closing; you hear approaching footsteps. Keeping your eyes forward, your mind runs a mile a minute, as your cravings for food grow stronger.

“You called for a snack, princess.” a familiar accented voice says. Freezing you feel your eyes began to water up as you keep your gaze ahead to scared to look back.

“I waited months to see your pretty face again sweetheart.......please turn around for me.” you hear them beg as you feel a big warm hand caress your swollen hips.

Shaking your head you close your eyes, feeling a dip in the bed as the hand travels towards your protruding belly.

“I received your voicemail baby.......after hearing your scream torment my mind for 8 torturous months I was finally able to hear your angelic voice again.” they say making you bite your lip as you feel tears rundown your face.

Rough but soft warm hands embrace yours as they shift your tense form, towards them, “Please let me see those beautiful eyes, mi amor.”

Blinking away the cloudy tears, your gaze fall onto Armandos smiling bearded face, as he moves a hand up to wipe your tears away, “There's my pretty girl.”

Launching forward you bring him into a tight hug, sobbing into his neck as he tightens his hold on you, while letting out quiet sniffs.

“I got you baby.... I got you.” he comforted, pressing hard kisses against your head, while slipping a hand between the back of your open gown to rub soothing circles onto your warm brown skin.

Pulling back, you stare up at him taking in his changed appearance as you watch him do the same with you, "I-we missed you.” you whispered watching his moist eyes shift down towards your belly with a smile.

Placing a hand on your stomach he rubs his thumb against it, moving his teared fill eyes up to yours before pulling you into a passionate kiss.

Setting a hand into his fluffy out grown hair you press your lips against his harder, as he swipes his tongue over yours before separating your lips causing a wet popping noise to be made.

Seeing a single tear fall from his eye made you press a soft kiss on his cheek as he sucks in a breath from your comforting touch, "I missed y’all too.... more than you’ll ever know.”

Moving his hand towards your face he pushes your thick hair behind you ears before placing it on your flushed brown cheeks, "Always said these words in my native tongue during our time together but never to your face......I fell in love with you the moment I made eye contact with those tear-filled eyes,2 years and 9 months ago......and now as I’m able to stare into those same moist eyes all over again......I want you to know that I truly love you Y/N.”

Swiping away the tears that fall he watches you smile brightly at him before saying love you too, Mando. Letting out a content hum, he briefly gazes around the room, noticing everyone left to give you two a private moment.

Bringing his attention back to you, he noticed the frown on your face as you shift your hips, "What's wrong mi amor!”

“It’s time!” you said feeling a strong pushing sensation come from between your legs, causing you to squeeze Armando’s hand tightly. Before you could tell him to get the other’s you feel heavy weight fall on top of you making you snap out of your painful moment to gaze down at him.

“Armando?” you questioned going to give his shoulder a pinch, only to stop once you realized what happened......this fool done passed out.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Once Armando was woken up by the help of Mike and slipped into a sanitary cover up, you endured 6 agonizing hours of labor filled with screams and I can’t do it’s with Armando’s assertive tone whispering into your ear you can, while supporting your pushing form.

One last hard push brings your beautiful 8 pound crying boy into the world......huh, no wonder you were craving Tropical Fruit Bubbleicious.

Hearing your friends/family congratulate you while the doctor places your crying son against your exhausted form, had you bawling as you hold your baby against your beating heart. Kissing your forehead, Armando presses his hand lightly against his son's tiny back as tears of his on trails down his olive tan cheeks, while thanking you.

After cutting the umbilical cord, he follows the nurse out the room as she leaves with the infant, he'll be damned if he let his eyes leave his son for even a millisecond, fugitive or not he doesn’t give a fuck about who sees him. He seen to many things growing up involving the cartel harming the innocent for no reason, even babies as small as his son.

Following behind Armando, everyone walks out the room except Theresa and Marcus, who decides to stay behind to check up on their baby, while holding your hand as the nurses clean you up. "You did good Y/N/N.” you hear your father say as he pressed a kiss on top of your head before leaving Theresa with you to go check on the baby.

A few hours later and with the help of Marcus, Armando sits in the recliner by the bed as he holds his son against his bare chest. Whispering a few things in Spanish he leans his head down to press a soft kiss, onto his son chubby cheeks making the infant squinch his face before relaxing.

Hearing everyone let out a noise of admiration he turns his gaze towards Mike, who stands beside him with a proud expression.

“Damn that Lowrey DNA really is a bitch; our genes didn’t even try." Marcus says peering at the baby as well, making Armando laugh but quieting down when he feels the infant move before relaxing.

“Do you wanna hold him?” Armando asks his father after seeing his eyes shift between him and the infant.

“I don’t know....” Mike commented, fear keeping him standing in the same spot. Seeing this Marcus supports his friend by moving him forward, while making him sit down beside Armando.

Carefully placing the child into Marcus hands, Armando watches him stare down at the baby lovingly, while instructing Mike to fold his arms against his chest.

With the help of Theresa, Marcus places the child into Mikes awaiting arms, making the man suck in a breath while keeping his unsure eyes on the sleeping baby.

“I want him to have a last name that holds a good meaning behind it.... not bad.” Armando mutters, watching his father eyes water while gazing down softly at his new grandson in his arms.

Releasing a breath of surprise Mike look towards Armando with a hesitant smile, "You sure.” Giving him a firm nod, he watches Mike smile brighten as he pulls him into a side hug, still being mindful of the baby in his arms.

Moving away from the embrace he allows his father to have a moment with his grandbaby, while walking over to your resting form. Leaning forward he presses a sweet kiss against your forehead, keeping his eyes on your sleeping face before turning away at the sound of a knock.

“The fuck are you doing here!” Dorn growls, tall muscular form blocking the view of the person away from everyone else.“Calm down beanstalk, I didn’t come to start any mess, I just wanted to speak with Y/N.” the person replied with annoyance.

Frowning he walks away from your resting figure and towards the door, "Who is it?” he asked Dorn making the blonde hair man shift his attention to him with worry, while raising up his hands with caution.

Hearing the voice call for you had him tilting his head to the side but frowning when he sees who it is. Before anyone could stop him Armando shoves Dorn to the side launching at Rafe, who wasn’t expecting the attack.

Ignoring the calls of his name, he scowls at the man throwing quick punches while keeping a tight grip on his collar, “Maldito bastardo, ¿cómo te atreves a aparecer aquí?(You damn bastard, how dare you show up here?)”

Before he could throw another punch, he feels multiple hands dragging him away from the man, body filled with pure fury, Armando attempts to pull away from the hands dragging him back.

” Why the fuck is he here? I thought his ass was locked up!?!” Rafe snarled, slouching against the wall while wiping away the blood from his bleeding nose, before walking towards the room pissed.

Pulling him back into the hospital room, Mike keeps Armando away from the door as the squad quickly drags Rafe towards the small waiting room and away from Armando furious eyes.

Shooting awake you watch alarmed by the sudden commotion, franticly searching the room for your baby and before you could start panicking Christine walks over to give you your startled baby.

Hearing the cries of his son made him move away from Mike, quickly walking over to you with stressed eyes, "Mando, what's going on?” you questioned as Armando runs his hand through his hair, while shifting his conflicted gaze between yours and the baby who cries has settled down.

Grabbing his hand you stare at his bruising knuckles concerned, "Don't worry about that, princess.” he states pressing a kiss on your hand before looking up at your concerned expression.

Sighing he rubs at his frustrated face before muttering a name that leaves you shocked, "Rafe!?!......Why is he here?” you say rocking the cooing baby on your chest.

“Didn’t give him a chance to speak.” Armando whispered keeping his eyes on the infant, and missing the way you stare at him with admiration.

“If it wasn’t for little man and the fact that I just gave birth, you definitely would’ve gotten some." you say smirking when you see Armando raise his eyebrows at your words.

Moving forward he gives you a kiss on the lips before pulling back with a smirk of his on, “I’ll just take your kisses for now.”

Glancing back at the door, his jaw flexed as his grip on the bed rail tightens, making you place your hand on top of his, "Baby, look at me….what did you want to name him?

Returning his gaze back to yours, his angry features relaxed at your words, mind now focused on thinking of a name.Rubbing his knuckles with your thumb you wait for his response, peering down at the infant who is snuggled against your chest.

“My mother's name was Isabela……. what do you think about Isaiah?" Armando answered peering at you while waiting for your reply.

Nodding in agreement, you give him a reassuring smile, "I like it Mando…. little Isaiah.”

“Isaiah Matias Lowrey” he decided moving forward to pick him up, but hearing approaching footsteps made him turn back to look at the door. Seeing everyone and Rafe had him ready to swing but you grab his wrist making him peer back to see your worried face.

“Before I was rudely interrupted with a punch," Rafe paused to glare at Armando who returned his gaze with the same intensity, "I wanted to say congratulations....and to bring a peace offering.”

Scoffing at his words, Armando moves to hit him again but your voice and tight grip stops him, "I appreciate the kind gesture Rafe but it’s not needed; the peace offering your claiming to bring me has already been filled so please leave.”

With a nod of his head, he pulls out a ring box, setting it on the counter before looking at your surprised gaze, "Like I said didn’t come here to start mess.... just thought you could pawn this to put towards the baby.”

And with that he walks away leaving you shocked and Armando agitated as he walks forward grabbing the box and throwing it in the trash.

“Aye boy, I know you mad as hell right now but that’s money you throwing away!" Marcus exclaimed from the door, making Armando curse angrily in Spanish while walking back to you.

Picking up the baby, he moves to sit back in the recliner, muttering how his family don’t accept things from low life trash.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

With Armando still on the run he would visit every other month while keeping a low profile but that didn’t affect his growing relationship with you and his son.You always made sure to call and Facetime him keeping him updated on moments he misses while away.

When you both start to feel lonely you would stay on the phone talking with each other until you fall asleep or stay up looking through the portfolio with pictures of your reaction of Armando’s return and the birth of Isaiah.

Also, ever since Isaiah was born his weak bond with Mike has grown stronger making him grow to love the man he needed growing up.

Even though he really didn’t have a choice since every time he came Marcus would force him to have a heart to heart with his father, muttering it helps heal the scars.

Although he was very appreciative of Marcus for his relationship with his father, he was more grateful of him for bringing you into his life again. During his visits Armando enjoyed being a father to his son and a loving partner towards you......hopefully who he could call his fiancé, when he comes back to stay for good.

Before he would leave you and Isaiah, Armando always spends your last day together tangled in the sheets with you...... or at least attempting to when your 2-year-old wasn’t terrorizing your favorite Godparents and Midnight.

Both groaning before laughing when you hear your phone ringing, had you two getting dressed to head towards the parking garage in your new apartment building; to meet Kelly and Dorn who had bags under their eyes while Dorn holds an energetic Isaiah who’s cheesing while saying dada which had you rolling your eyes in fake jealousy.

Before he would leave Armando always spent some time talking with Isaiah while sitting on his bike causing you to take one of your favorite photos till this day.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Author’s Note🎙️:I enjoyed writing this series so much,I’ll be going back over all the parts to actually revise and edit them😭.Until I decide to start writing again peace and love💖💖💖💖.

Also,leave some comments below if you think I should write some one-shot of the ammo squad✍️✍️✍️

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achilles-rage · 1 month ago

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achilles-rage's twelve days of christmas

day three: christmas and you (ft. eddie diaz)

summary: you introduce eddie to the weird world of hallmark christmas movies.

word count: 1.4k

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a/n: yes, i know hot frosty isn’t a hallmark movie, but i was gonna watch a hallmark movie and then use it, and lost track of time, so i went with a christmas movie i’ve seen recently that’s similar lol. and also, to my eddie stan followers, i’m sorry it’s so short!! i was really not motivated to write this prompt at all, but i’m hoping that day 7 and 11 will make up for it since i love the prompts!! anyway, enjoy<3

warnings: none, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

You wake up in the morning extremely happy, and for no real reason in particular. You have the day off while Eddie has to go to work, which sucks, but now you have the entire day to finish up your Christmas shopping and run some errands. You’re usually not too fond of days like this; running around and trying to get everything done in one go, but everything is decorated nicely for Christmas, and seeing everyone else out doing their shopping and making holiday memories is something you love to see.

You start with a holiday drink at your local coffee shop, then go about your day, feeling extra festive as you keep your Christmas playlist going in your car all day.

When you finally get home with some takeout from your favourite restaurant for dinner, you curl up on the couch and decide to put on a Hallmark movie. They’re not the greatest, but what’s Christmas without at least one?

You’re almost done your food, and about 20 minutes into the movie, when Eddie comes home from work. You straighten up on the couch and pause the movie when you hear his footsteps coming into the living room, and you smile up at him before he leans down and gives you a quick kiss.

“Hi, mi amor.” he mumbles against your lips, using two fingers to hold your chin up. When he pulls away, he sits down on the couch beside you and drapes his arm against the back of the couch behind you, angling his body towards you as he begins to speak again. “How was your day?”

“Good. I got all my Christmas shopping done, finally. There’s some food left over, you want some?” you ask, gesturing to the container of food sitting on the coffee table.

He shakes his head, and he can’t resist the urge to pull your lips to his again, loving how content you look curled up on his couch. You smile into the kiss, your hand coming up to grasp the wrist of the hand he has cupping your cheek.

“You know that thing that Chris has been leaving hints about around the house?” you ask when you both finally have to pull back for air.

Eddie chuckles silently, shaking his head. Since pretty much the beginning of October, Chris has been leaving ad clippings, and notes, and anything else he can think of around the house for this new video game he’s been wanting.

“Yeah, where’s he hidden a message now?” he asks with a roll of his eyes. Your smile brightens, and you sit up straighter before you speak again excitedly.

“I found it at the mall today! One of the stores found an extra box in their storage room, and I just happened to be walking by!” Eddie’s eyes widen, and he lets out a sigh of relief. He’s been looking for that game for months, but ever since it’s come out, it’s been impossible to find.

“You’re the best. Chris is gonna love you forever.” Eddie tells you, and you shake your head with a fond smile.

“It’s from both of us. I know how hard you’ve been looking.” you reassure him, and his smile widens.

“You’re the best.” he says before his lips find yours again. He kisses you passionately, and you smile into the kiss as his tongue slips past your lips.

“Okay, enough. I’m trying to watch a movie.” you tease when you pull back, laughing softly when he huffs in defeat. He leans further back into the couch as you both focus your attention on the TV, and when you push play and Eddie sees the awful acting, he raises a brow.

“What are we watching?” he asks in a slightly confused tone. You look over at him with furrowed brows at his unsure tone, pursing your lips.

“A Hallmark movie?” you reply in the same confused tone. He groans, rolling his eyes. He knows about these types of movies, he’s just never actually been forced to watch one.

“What’s it called?” he asks as he turns his gaze back to the TV, cringing as the scene shows the state of the main character’s house.

“Hot Frosty.” He scoffs again at your words, tilting his head back against the couch as he looks up at the ceiling.

“Come on, it’s cute. They’re bad, but it doesn’t feel like Christmas without watching one.” you say sheepishly with a shrug. He lets out a sigh before he nods, looking back down at the screen.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” is all he says before he finally begins to watch the movie.

A half hour later, he finally snaps, throwing an arm up to gesture to the screen.

“Come on! First, a magical scarf turns the weird Greek sculpture looking snowman into a real man, and then she falls in love with him? He acts like a child!” You laugh, shrugging. You know it’s ridiculous, but that’s exactly what you’re supposed to expect in these movies. “He has to ask what everything is.”

“Because that’s how it works. It’s not supposed to be logical. What kind of movie would it be if he just became her child?” you counter, knowing that he’s exactly right. It does feel a little silly, but it’s Christmasy, and exactly what you need today.

He huffs, but continues to watch, curling his hand around your shoulder and pulling your body closer to his. You lean against him, sighing happily as the movie continues, and you try to ignore every quiet scoff and huff coming from beside you.

By the end of the movie, Eddie is a mix of angry and confused, and when the credits finally start to roll, he sits up straight, making you lean away from him so you can see his face.

“That was ridiculous. I mean, they just let him volunteer at a school? With children? He doesn’t even have an ID, how did they do a background check?” Eddie rants, and you can’t help the laugh that escapes your lips.

“It’s a movie, my love, it’s not real. And don’t think too much about it.” you try to reason, but he’s not having it at all.

“Well, what the hell else am I supposed to think about? Didn’t anyone else in that town get the creeps from him?” You finally bring both hands up to his cheeks, holding his head in your hands as you huff.

“Baby, it’s not real. It’s just a movie meant to spread holiday cheer.” you tell him, a slight sternness in your voice.

“How do you like these movies so much?” he asks a bit softer after a moment. He looks into your eyes, and he feels his anger fade as he feels the warmth of your fingers and palms on his face.

“I don’t know. I mean, it’s sort of sweet. It just reminds you of the real meaning of Christmas; spending time with people you love, falling in love.” you try to explain, and when he hears your answer, his eyes soften.

He finally smiles, then leans in to give you a tender kiss. One hand goes to your jaw as the other holds your waist, and you melt into the kiss, happy that he’s finally starting to understand your weird love of these movies.

“I love you.” he murmurs against your lips, and when you repeat his words, he pulls away to rest your foreheads together. He looks into your eyes with a fond smile, his thumb running over your cheek absentmindedly. He can’t imagine spending Christmas without you and Chris. He just loves his little family so much, and he finally understands the weirdly portrayed meaning of the movie.

“Now that you understand, we can watch another one tomorrow.” you tease, laughing softly when you see his expression shift and the frown return to his face.

“Absolutely not.” he replies quickly, and you giggle, rolling your eyes as you lean back.

“What if I say please?” you say, putting on your best pout as you wrap your arms around his neck and move to straddle his lap.

“You better do a lot more than just say please.” he teases right back, his voice dropping as his hands make themselves at home on your plush thighs.

“I can do that.” you murmur before you kiss him feverishly, humming softly as your hands rest against his chest.

After tonight, he’s sure he’d agree to anything you asked of him, even if it means he has to sit through another cheesy Christmas movie.

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madwomansapologist · 4 months ago

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Autumn Thunderstorm | Chapter 11 - Starlight

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series synopsis: Thranduil thought the recent attack of spiders on a periphery village was the only thing deserving of his attencion. If he could've imagined what he would found there, who he would found there, the Elvenking would wait a millenia in front of that river so he could see her sooner. Or: how Gandalf managed to keep a secret for 14 months.

eleventh chapter synopsis: Surrounded by pain and grief, Thranduil found himself willing to be something more simple than a king: he was just a man in love. [2K]

warnings: female!reader. pre-Smaug. angst. hurt no comfort. trauma. baby boy is having a difficult time.

notes: so, here i am. i wrote this chapter and it was so, so, so sad i had to actually rewrite it. like it was sad to the point y'all would ask me if i have something against love.

glossary: Idril: Treasure, sweetheart┆

Most days he can ignore the discomfort. There was once a time Thranduil would fear being unable to stop himself from tearing his face appart. A time long gone by now.

“The Elf-path was affected in multiple points”, his advisor continued the report. “Fallen trees and dead spiders block the way. Give the order and we are ready to clear the path.”

Today is not most days. The cold breeze feels like needles piercing his face, like smoke penetrating his nostrils. The collar of his robe rubbed against the sensitive skin of his neck. The perfected illusion spell hid so much of him. It recreated the bone structure of his jaw, the fat of his cheeks, his left eye. It even covered the smell of rotten flesh.

“There is no need to clean the path”, Thranduil waived his hand, dismissing the emergency council. How luck. During a tornado, one that was able to bring the oldest of trees down, the only blood spilled in the Elvenking’s domain was his own. “We are not expecting any visitors.”

We are not welcoming any visitors, he left unsaid. Soon winter will reach Woodland. The sindars, knowing the forest’s secrets, are free to cross it whenever they wish. Others will have to wait until spring.

Or die trying to reach his Halls.

“What an interesting statement”, Tuor smirked. With the other members of the council far away, nothing stopped Tuor from leaving his place as a captain and acting solely as a friend. Thranduil sighed. “A winter without visitors. No carriage or wagen crossing our land. No one enters.”

“And those who try shall face winter’s cruelty”, Thranduil descended from his wooden throne. He paused near Tuor, then continued his way down the hall. “Nature has always protected us from the rotten, my friend. Do not forget it.”

“I agree, my king. No wanderer daring to deal with wild’s harshness can be trusted near our people.” Tuor glared at Thranduil’s back before following him. Just one more thing to burn Thranduil. “It surprises me. That only now I realized something else.”

“And what is it?”

“That if no one enters, no one leaves.”

Thranduil stopped walking. He turned around, his robe sliding against the stairs. “What are you implying?”, he asked, staring at Tuor from bellow. As if he did not already knew. It was the only thing he could do.

“A new jewerly came from Erebor. One that is not on display”, Tuor walked down the stairs keeping him away from his friend. It felt wrong to look down at a king. Unnatural. “And she did not slept on her chambers.”

A blush made to Thranduil’s long ears, who so easily forgot his place as a king. “Are there any rumors-“

“No”, Tuor interrupted him. “I went looking for her this morning, to inform our trainings will cease for a while. Her reputation continues immaculate, but only because a tornado stole everyone else’s attention. You should had know better, Thranduil.”

Oh, he knew. Thranduil knew it was not right. It was not a behavior a king should manifest, not a sort of request an elve can speak out loud without feeling ashamed. Thranduil knew a lover deserves respect. That the bare minimum one could do is care for the other’s comfort and safety.

And still, he did not stopped himself.

“Stay”, Thranduil whispered. “Please, do not leave me alone.”

Your gaze burned him. For so long you stared into his eyes, and for the whole time Thranduil felt that you could see something beyond him. Where you searching for his intentions, for any hidden meaning, for a way of stopping whatever this is from continuing? Thranduil confessed, stripping the very fabric of his soul naked for you. His heart, bare for you to do as you wish.

That is why it took me so long, Thranduil admitted for himself. How vulnerable it is to not hide the truth.

Your fingers continued steady against the doorknob. He feared you changed your mind again. Thranduil averted his gaze, head turned towards his balcony. The destruction was long gone, but the wind was cold and strong still. What a privileged vision of a chaotic night.

It is late. Past midnight. It has been hours since you decided to not walk away. Enough time for you to decide it was a bad choice. Enough time for you to regret ever laying your eyes on his dead skin and putrid scars. Enough time for you to realize Thranduil is as disgunting as he thinks, and your sweet home is better than this ancient one.

The bed creaked, and his eyes immediately found a way towards yours. Slowly, as if every move had to be delibered, you lay down besides him. Your eyes glistened, the moon reflecting on them, returning his gaze. You smiled, and something inside him froze.

“I feel the same”, you confessed, voice soft in the night. “About everything.”

Thranduil gasped. His throat ached, a sudden need to cry almost taking over him. “Oh, what a relief”, he whispered again. There was no need to, you both were alone. “Thank you, idril.”

One of your hands found a home deep into his long hair. A caring stroke. As the minutes passed, you intertwined your fingers with his. Such a cold hand. Thranduil brushed his open lips against your knuckles, breathing warm air against your skin.

The sweet carress came to an end, so Thranduil looked up. He saw your eyes closed, lips appart from one another. The night was darker. The moonlight felt so cold now. You looked calm.

Gazing upon you, the Elveking rested.

Was he being scolded? A king being lectured by a captain. That would be enough to guarantee Tuor some time in the dungeons. Or it would have been, if he was not right. In the absence of a response, a chuckle came out of Tuor’s throat. “Does that means you finally confessed?”

“Enough,” Thranduil growled.

Tuor heard his king’s words. For the sake of his amusement, he simply ignored them.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

There is no medicine for his pain. After the fire went out, what remained there to be healed already was dealt with. His face itches, the ligaments of his muscles twitch, the burning on his face is constant. Meanwhile the pain is there, his body is not.

Where does a leg begins? One might say right before the thigh. Other would chose the pelvis, or at the basin. Both would be wrong. It starts and ends in the brain. Lose a leg and all the nerves shaill remain there searching for something that ceased to exist. A mind griefs, a brain does not.

His cheek is gone. His neck is gone. His left eye is gone. And it hurts. It feels cold and hot, it tingles and shocks. He can feel muscles that do not move, the need to scratch a skin that is not there. It is a real, anatomical pain.

Thranduil cannot stop it, no medicine can end a fire that is not there, but a few things can help.

Near his chambers, mere minutes away from his bed, a private garden embraces him when pain and worry is too much. Surrounded by this controlled nature, Thranduil breathes the smell of roses and wysteria. The perfume calms his nerves down.

Looking at the box between his hands, the stiffness came back to his shoulders. Inside it was a request, one the dwarves of Erebor carefully crafted. A necklace made of pure starlight. Each of the almost endless white gems came from the Elvenking’s personal collection. Except by one.

That pendant he found back in Rivendell. A tear shaped crystal, with snow locked inside it. Such a beautiful jewel. Such a cruel reminder of the time you both stayed appart, shattered.

Thranduil wondered about the moment he would be able to look at you, aware that you understood his feelings. He dreamed about you looking into his eyes, feeling the same. But Thranduil never imagined it would happen as it did. Yesterday was… not how it was supposed.

You found him crying, bleeding, deep into a filthy dream disguised as memory. You heard his screams, felt his warm blood against your skin, saw his true face. You held him, kissed him, and for a second almost ran away from him.

Thranduil can do more. He can be more.

The doors creaked open, and Thranduil forgot about how worried he was.

A sweet perfume welcomed you into this garden you have never seen before. Usually you would have admired it, but all you did was to look straight into his sore eyes. They fell towards the arms that held you close last night. To the war knuckles resting on top of an armchair.

“Your quartermaster said-”, as you noticed what filled this room, your voice betrayed you. “-you called me.”

In front of Thranduil, there was a table covered by green linin. You saw pearly folded napkins and golden cutlery. In such a intimate place, a proper supper was served. Meat and pies on display, bows with fruits and deserts. So much wine.

Thranduil breathed deep. “Would you join me for this evening?”

It was not different from any other meal you both shared. From the very first meeting, it was always the same. Thranduil would hear, you would talk, and the rest of the world would be successfully ignored. And like always, it was good. It was right. To be just the two of you.

But it was so different too. Impossible not to feel your face heating up, hands soaking in sweat. You saw the tip of his ears bright red. That made you bite back a chuckle.

How could Thranduil look into your wonderful eyes without becoming tongue tied? Or how could you look at the hands of a king serving you more wine and not remember how right they felt against your cheeks?

Listening about the destruction of the tornado, you noticed that he tastes like fine wine. Hearing you speak about your trainings, Thranduil kept on trying to discover what was the scent of your perfume.

As you tried to finish the apple pie on your plate, Thranduil moved on his seat.

“I made…”, Thranduil hesitated. Never before he felt difficulty speaking out loud. Decided to not make a fool of himself, he placed the box besides your plate. “You are so dear to me. I hope the beauty of this gift can make you as happy as you make me, idril.”

Speechless, you alternated your gaze between Thranduil and the masterpiece in front of you. Truth be told, any gift would have make you rejoice after what he said. And still, the beauty of it made you stutter. “Is this really for me?”

“I can… Help you. With it”, Thranduil managed to said. He felt the need to punch his own face, but decided that would make his situation even worse. “If you want me to.”

Looking at him, you used all your courage to answer. “Only if we agree to stop being so awkward. I want to be here. With you. And I know you feel the same. I do not want to ruin this by thinking too much when there is nothing to think.”

“You always says the thing I last expect you to”, Thranduil whispered. Biting the insides of his cheek, he nodded. “I agree. I want to be with you. Nothing else matters.”

You had to stop yourself from jumping on him. Instead, you placed the necklace at the base of your throat and turned around. It was so heavy. If it fell on your lap, it would have bruised. His fingers were so careful. So right against your skin.

Thranduil should have wanted to see how it looked on you, but he could not move his hands away from your shoulders. You should have wanted to show him, but you did not wanted to move away from his touch.

You both knew it was perfect.

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months ago

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Tale of the Cursed Raven -- Author’s Notes & Afterthoughts

The full series:

Miss Raven sketch is by shimmeryspark!

Well, it’s been quite the journey but we’ve finally made it to the end of ✨ Raven’s origin saga ✨. It was such a wild experience to write it all and hear your feedback for each installment. I hope that you all enjoyed reading it as much as I loved creating it... and I hope that it sheds more light on why Raven is the way she is.

Now that the series is done, I’m feeling really nostalgic about it (maybe it’s Mis Raven’s enchanted inks working their magic on me)💦 so I wanted to relive the memories a little, and share some of the feelings, insights, and thoughts I had before, during, and after writing the saga.

If you’re interested in reading that, it’ll all be below the cut for your convenience.

“May those who accept their fate be granted happiness, may those who defy their fate be granted glory.” — Edel, Princess Tutu (2002)

The Origins

I’ve always loved stories—more specifically, fairy tales. When I was little, they’d always be on my mind. Actually, they still are to this very day. If I wasn’t reading them, I’d be watching them or thinking about them, making theories and spinning stories of my own.

I loved the fantastical elements, the whimsy of magic and talking animals, the witches and the monsters, the royals and the warriors that protected them... I loved it all. That childhood love of fairy tales followed me into adolescence and adulthood. That’s really where this all began.

Of course, I gravitated towards media that prominently featured elements of, or borrowed from, fairy tales. This would lead me to the rabbit hole that is Twisted Wonderland 😷 (you all knew this was coming). Due to the blank slate nature of the game’s protagonist, Yuu, TWST was ripe for an OC community to crop up.

I saw a lot of unique characters in the fandom, so I wanted to create a character too. However, no matter how hard I tried, I struggled to develop a “Yuu” that I was satisfied with. At times, I even felt uncomfortable because I felt I was either putting too much of myself into “Yuu”, or not enough. It was then that I realized I would have much more fun making a character based on a preexisting story. A theme, a concept—they’d all be pre-set for me, and I could let my imagination run wild from those.

I didn’t want to adapt a character from a Disney movie (say, the Mad Hatter or King Triton). While I had seen many cool interpretations made by other people, I didn’t want to limit myself to personalities and character traits that were already determined by the movies or stories for me. I started looking into fairy tales themselves, looking for a character or a concept vague enough for me to base my OC on—and I found it in the wording of a riddle from Alice in Wonderland.

Why is a raven like a writing desk?

It captured the spirit of whimsy I wanted to evoke in the OC. Ah, but there's also an underlying sadness and dread to her character. It's mostly Alice in Wonderland with a whisper of Edgar Allen Poe.

And thus, Raven was born.

Tsunderes — but why???

At first glance, you might look at Raven and label her personality as “tsundere”. It’s a popular trope in Japanese media where a character that is initially cold and harsh shows or develops a warm, friendlier side over time. One problem that I’ve always had with the tsundere archetype is that the media that employ it rarely, if ever, explain the reasoning for why a character is a tsundere. More often than not, tsunderes are used to comedic effect nowadays, with the tsundere characters acting violent towards their supposed love interests—and that’s something that has never really sat well with me. I don’t think that’s necessarily good writing, but I won’t fault the people who do enjoy that kind of thing. I personally prefer it when we get to know the characters and the reasoning behind their personalities and decisions more. Character-driven storytelling is my jam.

Familiar of Zero’s Louise lacks the magical power to back up her noble lineage, and she has an inferiority complex as a result of that. Toradora’s Taiga has a complex family situation which has left her distrustful of others. When writing Raven, I didn’t want her to fall into the trap of “no explanation” tsundere. I wanted to outline a clear reason for why her personality is “hot and cold”, like Louise and Taiga. Even more than that, I wanted Raven’s reason to line up with the concepts of “freedom” and “expression” that tie with her bird and storytelling motifs.

And so, her story started taking shape in my head. (If you want to read more specifics on my thought process, I’d check out this post. I also talk more about the concepts behind her there.)

Her Magic

I wanted to tie in her personality and philosophy into her unique magic too. After all, it's a spell that defines who she is as an individual. In the beginning, Raven was excited about the prospect of writing, as it would help her comes to understand others--however, she struggles to come to grips with their emotions and keeps holding herself at a distance. Only when she empathizes with her characters and with the people around her does her unique magic come into fruition. With it, she can see into others' hearts and rewrite their feelings--that is, if her willpower and coaxing can convince them to.

I didn't want Raven to be a particularly gifted magic user; she's someone that had to work hard to come into her own. I think of her humanoid form as something still awkward and developing, which sometimes interferes with her spellcasting. What really makes Raven shine is her determination, and the strong imagination that pairs with it. All she truly lacks is the ambition and the confidence, things that I hoped would be honed at Night Raven College.

The Characters for the Series

Initially, I wanted to feature a much larger cast of characters. At some point, I was ambitious enough to think I could somehow include every NRC student in the plot... but thank goodness I realized that just wasn’t feasible. I saw the narrative mess that happened whenever a creative piece tried to get too many characters involved. It just made it hard to keep track of and care about anyone on an individual level. Sometimes, it also distracted from the central themes and conflict. Now, that’s not to say that Raven has never canonically engaged with other characters (because she definitely has)! It’s just that those interactions aren’t as important to this story, so I left them out of it.

In hindsight, I’m so glad that I kept the core cast (up to a certain point) small. That way, I could dedicate more of my time writing each of their individual thoughts and emotions. Raven remains the main character throughout, while Rook, Crowley, Jade, and, to some extent, Azul, Floyd, and Octa A, are secondary characters. Idia, Vil, Epel, the Fates, etc., are very much tertiary characters that showed up a few times total 😂 but they all played their parts and still contributed the overall story.

A character that was introduced in part 6 was the timid but well-meaning Octavinelle A-kun (whose name is Kon, like konbu, or Japense kelp). He was actually included as a gag character because I couldn’t think of someone from the main cast for the role he ended up filling. I unintentionally got attached to Kon and decided to bring him back later in the story, because I guess I like the irony of a mob character that lacks eyes having more screen time than two Dorm Leaders (Vil and Idia). I think the inclusion of Kon also really helped the themes of the story, because, in a meta way, he’s like Raven. He’s a “background character” who ended up having time in the spotlight (and even earned himself a small but dedicated fan following), which proves that it’s possible for Raven, who also sees herself as a “background character”, to ascend and become a “main character”.

Speaking of semi-original characters, I also had fun doing my interpretation of the Fates in part 10. I doubt that’s what they’re like in canon and watch TWST prove me wrong, but it was super fun to write regardless of that. I think my favorite thing about them was how they bicker when they’re out of the public eye, but it was also interesting to come up with their idol poses and phrases.

The cast noticeably expands around part 15, and that was a very purposeful move on my end. Raven has had her revelation then, as well as a stronger understanding of how her unique magic works. Art that point, the story shifts from Raven being on the outside looking in to the characters witnessing her tale unfold. It's to indicate that Raven has finally properly begun integrating herself with the stories that she has always isolated herself from. Characters that have previously had smaller roles before (Vil, Idia, Azul) return for a reprise and to add their own context to what's happening now, and the characters never previously mentioned (Lilia, Riddle, Kalim, Leona) give their perspectives as people who had no direct involvement. I wanted to show the shades of familiarity that they have with what Raven's been up to on her lonesome, and how these different kinds of relationships and points of view are all important when looking at a story.

I was very excited to introduce the Enchantress (Estella) as an onlooker that has a tenacious history with Lilia; she's an original character I've been working on and hiding in the shadows until her first appearance late in this saga. Estella is a very complex person, whom I would describe as a mix of the Enchantress (Beauty and the Beast), Giselle (in both Enchanted and Disenchanted), Isabela (Encanto), Frollo (The Hunchback of Notre Dame), Mother Gothel (Tangled) and Fairy Godmother (Shrek 2). She gives... "tough love", but often acts in morally self-righteous and self-important ways, believing that it is for the "own good" of the people she becomes entangled with. Sadly, I was not able to go into her own background and motives, but someday I'd really like to!

The Plot of the Series

There’s a lot that you don’t see that goes into writing. I went through several iterations of Tale of the Cursed Raven, especially with the rising action and climax. You should see my writing drafts--there’s no rhyme or reason to them! You might see some bullet points to show a sequence of events, but the rest of the document is just random lines or ideas I think would “sound cool” that I just scribbled down while on the bus or something.

When I write a story, I usually know how I want things to begin and how I want them to end, and I have trouble filling in everything that’s in between. I usually took large chunks of time between the release of each installment to review information from the previous part and make sure the continuity carried over to the part I was currently writing.

It was also common for me to write, rewrite, and rewrite the parts again several times over before I actually put it to the public. Sometimes I would almost be done with an installment, and I’d delete it all and start over because I thought of something much better. I’d be irritated with myself in the moment for wasting all that time and hard work, but I think it ended up working out.

sadibasudbad Okay, I want to talk about some of the plot points that I scrapped, because some of them were actually interesting... They just took the story nowhere or caused issues with other things I had planned, so I had to drop them 😅

After Jade’s betrayal is revealed in part 3, I was going to have Raven become Azul’s business rival. Not in the restaurant sense, but more like she would offer similar “wish fulfillment” services as Azul, mostly because she needs something to do to keep herself positive. Her services were going to be called “Fairy Godmothering” and involved sending wishes on slips of paper in little black boxes she placed all over campus. However, she’d probably need a lot of help or strong magic to make that happen, neither of which really applies to her. I guess the tradeoff would have been that Azul offers more but asks for a price, whereas Raven offers less but works for free. She’d write stories as kind of a “road map” or “plan” for how she would personally fulfill her a wish, as opposed to Azul’s contracts, and which required a mutual agreement to the terms. I also didn’t know where to take the story after this point was introduced, so it had to go.

Part 8 was originally going to open with Raven and Riddle having a tea party and catching up. Floyd was going to emerge from some rose bushes with Cater and Trey chasing after him 😂 and Floyd was going to kidnap Raven from there for the boat scene with Jade. Like I mentioned before, I decided to cut this out to keep the number of characters the story had relatively short. (Plus, I guess Floyd would have had to run a shorter distance to the lake if Raven was already in the forest area than if she were all the way in Heartslabyul?)

There was a large hiatus between part 10 and part 11, because a lot of rewrites had to happen for the latter half of the series. Part 11 in particular went through several different versions—one of which would involve Prince Rielle visiting NRC for a magift game and knocking Raven out cold with the frisbee. Because Raven didn’t remember the face of the “prince” that saved her from drowning when she was a bird, I was going to have her mistake Rielle as that “prince” (similar to how Eric mistook Ursula/Vanessa for Ariel). Djsbsjsbshs But I already took a huge chance by writing my interpretation of the Fates, so I didn’t want to also do my interpretation of Rielle in case TWST gives us more details about him later. Rielle is based on a Disney princess, so I thought it was more likely that he got more details revealed about him over of the Fates, and I didn’t want to make my series too reliant on headcanons or unconfirmed information about a character we haven’t even seen yet.

Finally (and this is the biggest change of all), parts 10 through 20 were originally going to be heavily focused on action and adventure. Raven was going leave NRC in search of the Enchantress (who originally cursed the Storyteller several years go) and ask her to lift the curse, and the Enchantress was going to send her on a series of heroic quests to prove that she is “worthy”. But the more I thought about it, the more I thought the scale was too grand 💦 At the end of the day, Raven is just a bird trying to be a normal human girl... and I wanted her development to be more of a traditional coming of age story instead of a literal hero’s journey where she confronts dragons and saves villages. Something more down-to-earth makes her more relatable, so I went with that route instead of the action-adventure one.

I don’t know if you noticed, but the saga happens alongside the events of the main story (as some main story events, such as Overblots, are referenced). The last 5ish parts happen around the transition from the Ignihyde arc to the Diasomnia arc, sooo... :)) You can think what you like about whether Raven’s happy ending is reality or a dream conjured up by Malleus~

I argued with myself a lot while writing the series, especially about the ending. I had a lot of my friends (and readers, too) telling me “you’d better not kill Raven” and “Raven and Jade should kiss and make up/date each other at the end” (some of which came true, some of which didn’t). I was so conflicted at the time because while I never intended to kill Raven, it was clear that my audience was expecting a perfect “happily ever after”... and I didn’t know if such a conclusion would fit the overall tone of the series. I think what I ended up doing was satisfactory, though. It’s happy, but not overly so, and it keeps the door open for future shenanigans in a light-hearted and hopeful way. I think leaving it open-ended like this suits the theme of the saga and Miss Raven's struggle to find her freedom.

Raven’s Growth and Development

Raven has come so far.

The saga here is written kind of like “oh, this is her main story”, but it’s meant to be supplemented by “vignettes” and “event stories” (ie all the side content of Raven which fleshes out her relationships with other characters). The idea is that all her experiences at NRC helped her to develop her own sense of self, and granted her the confidence to fly in the face of her own fate, which she was once so hopeless about. When I look back on the last few years, I’m amazed at how much of it there is, whether produced by myself, by friends, or by fans. It’s really humbling that I get to share this journey with you all.

Raven used to be scared and shy, a timid bird with little to no understanding of the world, or of the creatures in it. Then she picked up a quill, ink, and paper—and a whole new world opened up to her. Her story is one of how freedom of self expression and creative works can connect us not only with others, but with ourselves. Because of that, Raven was able to grow and become a much more mature person (with the support of her friends and family, of course)!

Just because the saga is over doesn’t mean Raven is suddenly perfect, though. She still very much struggles to be emotionally expressive and honest with her feelings of affection (since she has gone so long burying those), so she’s still got a long way to go in that regard 💦 She also has some lingering self-esteem issues that she’s got to work on. Raven’s always changing...! Always willing to learn! Jade and Rook, please help her—

When people read Tale of the Cursed Raven, I don’t want them to “just see it as a love story” or “TWST OC x TWST Boy” fanfiction 💦 because the focus isn’t just on romance, but on Raven discovering herself, and her voice, in a world that once confused and scared her. It’s not just a story about finding love, it’s also about a girl growing up, gaining confidence, finding new family and friends to support her... It’s a lot of things, and I feel that it’s doing the saga a disservice by calling it just a love story.

I’ve mentioned this a few times before, but while Raven is not meant to be a self-insert character, I feel that her struggles are very relatable and I hope that you, too, can see some part of yourself in her and her journey. A lot of the writing process involved me analyzing and coming to terms with difficult feelings, particularly ones of self-loathing, self-acceptance, coming to terms with emotions, and trying to find one’s place in a world that can be confusing and scary to navigate. I feel that writing Raven’s tale was able to help me through those tough times in my life. For that reason, this saga will always hold a lot of sentimental value to me.

So... What’s next?

There were originally plans for me to make a follow up/spin-off series where Octa A/Kon was the main character. The theme of that series was “even the unnoticed and ordinary can be noticed and extraordinary!” It was going to focus on Kon and his mob student friends (one from each dormitory), along with their struggles of being “noticed” (as they are often just one face in a sea of mob students) and “fitting in” with their respective dorm’s ideals. I think it would have been a series that resonated a lot with introverts and people who see themselves as “less than” others or as “not fitting in” with others’ expectations. I might still do this, but it would probably be another huge project that would take months of planning and revision.

Another idea I had was to write a series of stories that are just flashbacks of Raven’s life prior to Night Raven College, whether as a bird or whether as the Storyteller’s apprentice. I also considered writing in-depth about how the Storyteller was originally cursed, and about the Enchantress responsible for it. I would like to get into her backstory and her motivations for spinning the Storyteller’s curse to begin with. (Maybe I’ll do those as blog anniversary or follower milestone specials?) Some friends of mine also jokingly suggested I write a sequel series focused on Raven and her relationship with L*ONA 🤢 dfhlbahefvqoeuq Lots of ideas, lots of possibilities!

As for Raven, she’s definitely not going away just because her origin saga is done. She’s still the beloved poster child of this blog, so of course I want to continue writing about her! It’s just that she’ll be a little freer to speak her mind now that her curse has been lifted. After all, "the end" is just "the beginning" of another story!

I kind of feel like a proud parent, seeing my bird daughter growing up, making friends, finding love, and developing her own sense of agency and independence 😭 I’m excited to see where this next chapter of Raven’s life takes us.

Before I sign off, I’d like to thank you, dear readers, for following Miss Raven’s story until the very end. None of this would be possible without you!

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writefightandflightclub · 11 months ago

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Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter One (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running?

Genres: a LOT of angst, some smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings here. Please note this series is NSFW / 18+ and minors or ageless blocks interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written. Posting schedule is here.

Author’s note: (If you read the original one-shot this slightly amended chapter will already be familiar to you, so I'm sorry for the initial lack of surprises. I promise though - there are many surprises from here!) Some of you may remember that this all started as an angsty smutty one shot, way back in 2020. Let’s just say, some of you really liked that story (thank you!) and a “part 2” was requested so that I could “fix” things for these two idiots (affectionate). Well, I guess part 2 took a while, because now it’s four years later, and I have written 87,000 words (ish). Oops. So, as you might infer through the accidental novel length spew, this series means rather a lot to me. It’s the longest piece of writing I have ever seen through to completion, and so, whilst it’s definitely not perfect, I am pretty proud of it! I hope with all of my little orange heart that you enjoy it, and if you do, any RBs, comments - or anything at all really - would mean the world. These two have lived in my head for four years and I will miss them, but I'm so excited to finally share them with you all! Honestly, I could say lots more, but for now I'll leave you with one more thought, which sums up this whole experience quite frankly: the characters made me do it.

Finally, I have to thank you all, lovely pocket friends, for being so supportive and encouraging the whole way. It means so much to me! Especially, I GOTTA thank the fabulous @astroboots, who has hyped this project from literally before the beginning and been so encouraging, and @foxilayde, who is an incredible cheerleader for all my hare-brained endeavours. ILY!

Word count: 9.7k for this part (it’s broken down into 3 sections, if you prefer to read in stints!).

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to the taglist if you are 18+ (or removed!). Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

You love your squad. You really do. However, if you are being honest, it can be tough being treated as “one of the boys”. You know it’s a good thing that they don’t treat you any differently - but sometimes, you have to admit you want to be seen as a woman first and a soldier second. Especially on evenings like this when testosterone and drinks are flowing freely. Evenings when you have an ache in between your thighs that, in your case, calls out for a man. Okay - calls out for Santiago “Pope” Garcia, to be specific.

“I hope you can handle something stiff going down your throat,” you announce crudely to the group, arriving to whoops of appreciation as you slide the tray of hard liquor and beers on to the lofty bar table.

The squad is celebrating a successful bust, and the relief and revelry in the air after the months-long operation is palpable.

“Cheers to that!” Frankie winks with a dumbass grin, rubbing his palms together with glee. “You’re a saviour – Pope’s taking far too long.”

Will helpfully conveys the shots and beers around the table, glasses and bottles clinking and jovial smiles rippling through the group as a direct result. Ready for a cold one, you bring the rim of your beer to your lips for an immediate swig, condensation pooling on your fingers and making you realise how close the air is in this buzzing but dingy place.

“Bottoms-up, boys,” Tom directs as he passes you a shot, earning a good-natured side-eye from you. “And bottoms-eth up-eth, Mi’ Lady,” he adds, along with a regal hand wave to match his faux Olde English tone.

“To busts!” you ‘cheers’, clinking your glasses in the centre of the table. The innuendo earns a throaty, gruff chuckle from Frankie who bumps shoulders with you, inviting you to share in the camaraderie. You give-in with a broad smile, unable -as ever- to resist Frankie’s tittering.

“Oh, hang on,” Frankie says, flitting quickly to a now unoccupied bar stool at an adjacent table (seats are in short supply tonight) and dragging it over to you.

“This for me, Catfish? How gallant.”

He grins. He knows you hate gallant. “It’s actually for Pope and his creaky knees… but you may as well make use of it while he’s pre-occupied,” Frankie chortles. You sit gratefully, your decision to wear heels after months in your beloved combat boots feeling like a definite mistake.

Speaking of mistakes...

“You fucking seeing this?” Tom asks, nodding his head over towards your squad mate, apparently simultaneously in awe of and amused by his current interaction at the bar; the very reason the drinks had been failing to materialise.

Twisting on your perch, you follow his gaze towards Santiago, eyes boring into the back of his head and his wash of grizzled curls. Involuntarily, your eyes trail over his form, the midnight blue button-down taut over his muscled shoulders as he casually props himself against the bar, jeans snug over that impossibly shapely rump. He has the barmaid rapt, eating out of his hand, all batting eyelashes and tongue slack in her mouth. Abandoned, a tray of shots sits unnoticed in front of Santiago as he lingers in conversation with her. All you can do is watch as, next, she leans over the bar brazenly, letting her thick, dark mane cascade across her ample, showcased cleavage. You can’t see Santiago’s expression as he -respectfully, you’re sure- admires her, but you can imagine it.

Occasionally, you are on the receiving end of those expressions too.

Unfortunately, Santiago has a raw talent for making… connections. Besides off-shore bank managers and corrupt lawyers, that also inevitably extends to hook-ups. He is never short of distractions. Or, apparently, you never can hold his attention for long. When you do, though? When he does notice you, he makes you feel like you are the only woman in the world, his focus so intent and unrelenting you feel like he is viewing you through a sniper scope. Like the attention might end you.

You bristle thinking about his selective interest, the dull ache between your legs intensifying.

“Never mind that deserter. Let’s celebrate without him,” you encourage to a ripple of agreement. You toss your shot back in-time with the boys and screw-up your face, shuddering in response as the spirit burns down your throat. You stick your tongue out with a “bleuch” as the aftertaste lingers.

However, your distraction doesn’t work for long, as your comrades seem determined to continue gossiping about the object of your desire.

“How does he do it?” Tom asks in disbelief, with more than a side of jealousy. He’d always given off the vibe of envying Santiago, you’d thought. “We’re all good-looking guys, man. But that little shit’s rolling in it.”

“I don’t know what it is. He’s not even tall,” Will snickers, knowing that Santiago hates being teased about his height.

Frankie interjects. “MaybeFrankie interjects. “Maybe it’s the big dick energy.”

No comment.

You’ve certainly never had any complaints about his stature. He is large enough to feel sturdy and surrounding, and small enough that you can take control of him when the mood strikes you. Oh, and you’ve certainly never had any qualms about his big dick energy… or his big dick for that matter.

Frankie chuckles again at the good-natured teasing and bumps you with his elbow. You are grateful for his easy, infectious laughter, acting like an umbrella against the moody, Santiago-shaped storm cloud which threatens above your head.

“For real though,” Tom interjects, leaning forward over the table as if he’s sharing classified intel. “Has he been getting frisky with the informant again?” His eyes travel around the table, meeting each squad member’s gaze in turn. “I feel like he’s definitely got something going on there too. Tell me I’m seeing things.”

“Luci?” Will asks, then whistles in surprise at Tom’s accusation, his brows converging. You’re not sure if he’s surprised by Santiago’s potentially compromising choices, or impressed by his unparalleled ability to pull. “That sly dog.” Perhaps it’s a little of both.

You tense. Santiago getting involved with an informant. A beautiful informant. Sounds entirely plausible, although Santiago has neglected to tell you if it is true. Besides building connections, another skillset of Santiago’s is his uncanny aptitude for mixing business with pleasure. Realistically, he can do whatever the hell he wants with whomever he wants - it is no business of yours - but, in truth, you are tired. Tired of being the one he only picks up when he has no-one else. Tired of going unnoticed the rest of the time.

“Actually,” Frankie leans forward to drop this juicy titbit of gossip into the conversation. “Luci broke it off. Requested a new contact.” He taps the side of his nose as if to indicate that he has his sources too, trying to drum up some air of mystery. “Coincidence? I think not,” he adds, tipping his head towards the continued scene at the bar.

You stiffen then in cold realisation. That’s why. That’s why he was noticing you earlier tonight. It wasn’t that he finally saw you. It wasn’t you in this dress. It wasn’t you. Yet again, he’d simply run out of distractions.

“Huh,” Tom says, looking a little too pleased with Santiago’s misfortune, swilling the dregs of his beer around absent-mindedly. “Well. He doesn’t seem devastated. It took him all of two minutes to get back on the horse.”

“Come on. You know Santi famously doesn’t get attached,” you snipe, partially serving the sentiment up as a reminder to yourself.

Santiago does have a... reputation. Honestly, you have no problem with that. There is no shame in having casual sex, after all. So long as it is safe and consensual, what does it matter? You’ve even acted as Santi’s “wing-woman” on a number of occasions. It had never been a problem; that is… it hadn’t been a problem until he started having casual sex with you.

Santiago is loyal almost to a fault in many other areas of his life. He is abundantly loyal to you, and there is no doubt in your mind that Santiago sees you as a friend first. As a soldier second. You know he respects you deeply for your sharp-mind, your humour, your straight-talking, and your lethality in equal measure. And, you also know that Santiago desires you. Or, at least, he does when it suits him. When he is paying attention. These various roles never seem to converge, though. As a friend? You and Santiago go way back. As a soldier? You’ve been on his squad longer than anyone has, since decades before you all went freelance. As a lover, though? Well, that is new. And he can’t seem to reconcile this new role with the rest of the ways he knows you.

Yes. Sure. Sometimes, Santiago desires the soft parts of you. Sees you as something other than a friend or a soldier. But you wish he would notice all of you, all at once. He sees you in fragments, like shrapnel. You wish he would piece things together. You wish he would notice you consistently. Not only when you’ve been out in the field too long, spending days bunched into hot and confined spaces, too close for comfort. Not only when hails of bullets send him reeling, searching for any kind of foothold on feeling alive. Still, over and over, you let him. You let him dip you back, with urgency - on to a mattress or a roll-mat or simply down on to the jungle floor - to thrust himself into you.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia is the man you crave. He gives it to you good. He makes you feel like a woman. Of course, there is no one particular way to be or to feel like a woman. There are infinite ways. For you though, very specifically, it is simple. It feels like Santiago desiring the soft parts of you which lay secreted under your tactical gear and your tough façade. It feels like him kissing you, soft lips and abrasive stubble. Strong hands and that muscled body writhing in a mess of breath and flesh. In those moments, you are a soldier least of all. Free of any mission, you become unadulterated; reckless abandon. You cease to be clipped and tactical, precise and lethal, and instead you become a soft, fluid thing beneath him.

Every time you arrive back in the city though, distractions abound. Santiago apparently ceases to desire you. Notice you. You had wrongly believed that tonight felt different. Something about the cool but heady night air. The way he was looking at you in this dress during your walk to the bar to meet the rest of the group. The way his hand lingered on your back as he guided you over to the table. But it mustn’t have been so. It must have been wishful thinking, that’s all.

You’ve done an increasing amount of wishful thinking, lately, it seems.

Too much.

You sigh deeply. You don’t even realise you have zoned out from the group’s banter until Santiago arrives back with the tray of drinks -and no doubt one more phone number in his contacts- by which point, you are riled up enough to grab the shot of tequila right off the tray and down it without thinking, salt and lime be damned.

“Woah, cariño. Feeling spirited tonight? Not wanna wait for the rest of us?” His smile is broad and easy and annoying as hell and suddenly you are adrift.

“Nah, I’m done waiting, Santi,” you bite. He doesn’t catch the double-meaning in your words, because of course he doesn’t. Why would he?

Your skin flushes with instant heat as a result of his presence- definitely a recently acquired response. And so, you hastily dismiss your leather jacket, revealing a strappy, red, form-fitting dress beneath. Your appearance even earns a low whistle and murmur of approval from your buddies.

“Someone’s gonna get lucky in that cute little number,” Frankie says pointedly, even as he’s staring curiously at Santiago staring at you. Maybe he’s on to you two.

You smile, happy -as ever- to take a little flattery. Plus, you do find it hilarious to watch these guys squirm when they remember that you do, in fact, have a body concealed underneath all your tactical gear.

“Well I won’t get lucky if you chumps keep staring down every man who looks at me,” you complain, already having clocked the defensive perimeter which has formed around you, simply from the way they have positioned themselves.

The squad are protective of you, unnecessarily, and you simultaneously chide and love them for it.

“Big men protec’, chiquita,” Frankie teases, puffing out his biceps and chest like a gorilla. He says it knowing fine well you could take out any one of them if you wanted.

You hear the warm rumble of Santiago’s laugh next to you too, chiming in time with yours, his body closer than you’d realised as he dishes the remaining shots out. “Please!” he scoffs, casually slinging his arm around the back of your bar stool, the shot primed in his other hand. “You know damn well she doesn’t need protection!”

“She’s gonna need protection when she gets laid,” Will quips, causing Tom to almost snort beer out of his nose in amusement and Frankie to high-five him from across the table. You would scold him but you’re laughing too, even as you roll your eyes good-naturedly at their ‘bro’ humour.

You drop your head towards Santiago as the others continue snickering like a pack of hyenas, the alcohol clearly having gone to their heads already. That’s what they get for drinking on empty stomachs. You and Santiago’d had the foresight to hit up a first rate food truck on the route across town, like sensible people.

“Dance with me, Pope?” you ask, giving him a subtle yet seductive bat of your eyes.

“For the love of God, Pope. Leave some women for the rest of us,” Tom pleads -partially in jest, you’re sure- as Santiago curtly nods, not knowing quite what you’re up to but taking your hand anyway.

“Ok. I hear you. Let’s ditch these losers,” Santiago joshes, smiling as he gets a predictable rise out of his squad.

It isn’t so unusual for you two to dance together when you visit bars, so it doesn’t earn too much suspicion from the group (plus, you’re military - you two have been pretty damn good at hiding your hook-ups, covering your tracks). Dancing with you might undo the careful ground-work Santiago had laid with the barmaid just a moment ago, however. Even so, Santiago opts to follow you into the sweaty throng of people on the floor all the same, your fingers loosely twined with his as you lead him. You find a relatively private spot, away from the prying eyes of the squad, and come to a standstill.

You turn into Santiago at the last available moment, meaning he ends up disconcertingly close. Almost chest-to-chest with you.

“Put your hands on me,” you command, a little more throaty than intended. You sling your arms around his shoulders, fingertips brushing at the buzzed hair at the nape of his neck. Santiago hesitates, but following a search of your eyes he plants his hands firmly onto the small of your back. You instantly feel the broadness and the warmth of him through the thin fabric of your dress. Those lethal hands. The hands that have pulled triggers and grenade clips. Choked the life out of assailants. Those lethal hands that have traced gently down your back as you laid bare beside him, killing you softly.

You let his hands rove over your body, wherever he wants to put them. Apparently, he wants to put them everywhere he can, like it’s a compulsion to touch you. He trails his hands up and down your back, ghosts them over the globes of your ass, snakes them down to the lip of your dress where his fingertips brush against your bare thighs, tacky with heat. And, after wandering, his hands come to rest low-slung on your hips, exactly where he likes to grab you when he thrusts into you. He gives you a subtle squeeze there, and the feel of him floods back to you. You are reminded of the way, when you’re with him, your own lethal hands are finally occupied by something other than battle. Of the times when you relinquish any preoccupation with victory, in favour of reaching perfect surrender. The times when your heart throbbing in your throat feels like safety instead of danger.

His hands on you feel... natural. You move together symbiotically. Your bodies are always, easily in sync. On the battlefield, on the dance floor, in the bedroom. Always moving as a team. After so long side-by-side, it would be hard to exist in a manner to the contrary. It would be hard to exist without him at all.

Will be hard.

You let Santiago press against you as you sway together on the darkened dancefloor, gyrating and slinking your hips in time with the music. You feel him half-harden against you and his grip on your hips tightens, a feeble but gruff sound involuntarily escaping his lips and causing a coil to tighten in the pit of you.

You think Santiago looks into your eyes meaningfully then. With something deep and unspeakable. Though that must simply be the wishful thinking you’ve become so practised at, and so, you immediately dismiss the thought, even as you nestle your mouth closer to his ear in order to speak. As your breath fans over the corded column of his neck you could swear he engorges further. And, the ache between your legs becomes almost unbearable at the spike of his cologne in your nostrils, his familiar scent curling within you.

Santiago doesn’t smell like spice or musk or woodsmoke. Not to you. To you he smells like memories and possibilities - a heady paradox. Like your past and future. His scent inspires a quickening within you. Something under your skin is spurred into motion, tending toward collision. Yet at the same time, his scent curls in you and feels like… a stilling too. Like someone entirely arrived at a place so familiar that they forget ever having arrived at all and can’t imagine leaving.

You dismiss it. You try. You fracture the moment. You must, before you collide.

“I hear you’ve had some informant woes? I hope to God we got the intel.” You feel him tense instantly against you.

“Uh-huh. I got it.” Santiago‘s not really listening. Instead, he’s dropping his eyes to your body pressed up against his own, the heels of his hands now kneading into your hips. “You look good.” His voice is a husk in the shell of your ear as he leans into you, ensuring he can be heard over the music.

“Good for Luci, breaking it off though.” You dismiss his compliment, barely able to obscure the animosity in your tone despite all attempts to sound casual.

He snaps back from you an inch or so, enough to look you directly in the eyes. You think that maybe, he looks almost disappointed. “Jealous?” he probes, ticking-up one eyebrow.

He knows you far too well. Yet, despite his on-the-mark observation, the question makes you feel called-out and so, your next tack becomes unnecessarily cruel. Vengeful almost. “He’s getting there.”

“What?” Santiago asks in evident confusion, his hands slipping back-up to the neutral area of your back as the mood slips away too.

“The tall drink of water at 9 ‘o’ clock. Guy who’s been eyeing me all night. Doesn’t he look like he wants his hands on me instead of yours?” You know that you sound cruel, and petty, and the words feel bitter, like salt and lime in your mouth. You’ve said them all the same though. It’s already done.

Santiago’s jaw clenches, eyes flicking subtly over as he rotates you to get a better look at your target.

“He does,” he states, with a thin attempt at neutrality, his neck roped with tension as his eyes skim over the other man.

“Great. Then thanks for the dance, Wingman. You’re relieved.”

Santiago puffs out air, his jaw clenching and eyes darkening.

You tick an eyebrow up at him. “What’s wrong? You jealous, Santiago?”

Then, you saunter towards the bar, where the other man is stood. He very blatantly gives you the once over, evidently liking what he sees. You lean in with a flirty smile, letting the image of an aggrieved Santiago dissolve into the throng of people as you allow yourself to be entirely distracted.

You are done waiting.

You want to be noticed, and this handsome man in front of you is certainly providing you with his undivided attention.

***

Later, Santiago watches you prepare to leave with the other man, disgruntled and forlorn. He’s watched you all night via snatched glances through the crowd. Watched the man laugh at your jokes, watched him work up the courage to brush your arm. He watched you eventually move in for the kiss, your eyes turning hungry as you pulled away, teeth biting down on that delicious, pillowy lip of yours.

The bar having quietened down a little by now, Santiago sits in a booth opposite Tom and Frankie, Will having found his own company for the remainder of the night as well. Santiago’s head is propped on his elbow, a half-empty beer nestled in his other hand. His buddies’ eyes needle him as you toss a casual salute over to the table, your hook-up leading you out by the hand and your eyes shining gleefully.

“What?” Santiago hisses defensively, as Frankie continues to stare knowingly at him from the opposite side of the table.

Frankie’s head simply shakes in amusement. “Nothing. Only… when in the hell are you gonna figure out it’s her you really want, huh?”

“She’s just a friend,” Santiago bristles, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, hunching in on himself.

“And a fuck-buddy,” Tom ventures.

Santiago looks down, taking a masking swig of his beer. “You know about that?”

“Didn’t until just now. But thanks a bunch for confirming,” Tom replies in a self-satisfied tone, earning a chuckle and a bump on the shoulder from Frankie.

“Well… fuck.” Santiago sighs, his face becoming pinched.

“I already knew,” Frankie states. “Christ. You’re loud enough, man. Hard to keep the secret that you’re nailing one of the squad when we’re camped out in, like, 3ft of jungle.”

Santiago absent-mindedly picks at the label on his bottle with his thumb. “Don’t talk about it like that, man. It’s not… Fuck.”

Frankie just looks across at him in sympathy, Santiago’s reaction revealing more than he probably cared to about the true extent of his predicament.

You’d risen through the ranks together. You’d been through a lot. Everyone on the squad knew Santiago was your ride or die and you his. You had each other’s backs. Had tended each other’s bullet wounds for Christ’s sake. Your friendship and the trust between you both -on the battlefield and off it- was deep and unshakeable.

“And you don’t want more than that?” Tom probes.

Despite being indoors, Santiago picks up his baseball cap from the seat and pulls it down over his eyes then, in an attempt to shield himself from this line of questioning.

“What ‘else’ is there? There’s not much time for romance in between a hail of bullets.”

“Maybe.” Tom tips his head, contemplatively. “But you’re not getting any younger, Pope. How many years do your Goddamn knees have left in them?” He lets that one simmer for a moment, before nodding pointedly towards the door through which you had retreated. “You could do a lot worse, you know.”

“She could do a lot better,” Frankie interjects, earning a snigger from Tom and causing Santiago to huff, expression turning surly. Frankie holds his hands up defensively then. “Look, you do you, man. I’m just saying... I’m sure you’re having a great time getting your dick wet all over the continent… but if you don’t step up soon? You might regret it.”

Santiago whips his eyes towards his buddy, gaze interrogative and piercing. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing in particular,” Frankie shrugs, searching Santiago’s eyes with equal vigour. Santiago drops his gaze first, feeling exposed.

Frankie kicks his buddy gently under the table. “Come on, hermano. Use your words. Share your feelings.”

Frankie’s words may sound mildly taunting, as ever, but Santiago recognises the invitation to open up is genuine. He purses his lips, brows knitting together as he resists it, picking through his choice of words carefully before he allows them out of his mouth. He massages his palm over his roughened jaw and it rasps like sandpaper. “I don’t even know if she wants more.”

“Are you kidding me, man?” Tom responds in amusement. “The guy who can get information out of a freakin’ stone, make any informant sing, ‘doesn’t know’ if she wants more? That’s what’s stopping you? A fucking intel issue?”

Frankie titters again, narrowing his eyes at Santiago and trying to figure him out. “He’s scared,” the man accuses, before his tone softens involuntarily. “That it?”

Santiago takes an idle swig of his beer, polishing off the dregs before shrugging his jacket on, jaw twitching in irritation.

“Oh shit, he’s moping! He’s moping now. Can’t handle the truth,” Tom mocks.

“Come on, Santiago,” Frankie reasons. “We just want things to work out for you. You two are a good match- any chump can see that. Heh. Except maybe you.”

Santiago doesn’t respond. Instead, he simply continues his silent preparations to leave, stuffing his wallet and keys into his jean pockets.

“Plus- there are a bunch of reasons we’d like you off the market,” Tom teases. “More women for the rest of us. Golden opportunity to tease you for being so whipped.” Tom flashes a shit-eating grin up at his friend.

Nodding gently, lips twisted in a pout and refusing to rise to it, Santiago tips his head towards his squad members. “Gentlemen,” he offers by way of farewell, before starting towards the door.

“Want me to walk you home safe, chiquito?” Frankie calls.

“I’m not going home.” Santiago turns and gives the two men an affectionate middle finger before beelining toward the exit.

“You’re not going over to her right now, are you? Pope? Santiago? That’s not what we... She’s gonna be pissed, man. Think this through!” Tom shouts after him, but it’s futile. Santiago has already swept out into the night, leaving Tom and Frankie to exchange helpless glances.

There is a beat.

Then: “I bet the bastard gets laid as well,” Frankie snorts.

“Right?” Tom hums softly in agreement. “If anyone can turn up to a girl’s apartment while she’s banging another guy and still end up getting down? It’s that little shit, no word of a lie.”

There is a moment of silence as the pair sip their drinks and contemplate what Santiago has, precisely, which causes women to become so enamoured with him.

“Maybe it’s his ass?” Tom offers, finally.

Frankie clicks his fingers. “Ah. You’re probably right. That ass won’t quit.”

Meanwhile, Santiago steps out into the fresh air, the slight bite of it taking the edge off his alcohol buzz.

His thoughts are overwhelmed with you. Have been overwhelmed with you. In truth, Santiago is finding it harder and harder to keep this up. Especially whenever it is just the two of you, he finds it harder and harder to resist you.

It is typically easier in the city, where there are plenty of distractions. He is grateful for it - other people he can tangle with to take his mind off of you. In the city, it is easier to push that side of you out of his mind and to fall back into the clear-cut ways. The way it used to be before the lines had become blurred. Easier to compartmentalise his feelings for you. A friend first. A soldier second. A lover, only intermittently.

Santiago was determined not to let everything bleed into one, because once those barriers, those delineations fell, he was convinced he would never be able to rebuild them.

Most of all, he was convinced he wouldn’t want to.

The thing is... the “distractions”? They never really worked for long. You are the only woman for him, in truth. And for all it might be crazy, he is headed towards your apartment right now to find out if you feel the same way. To find out if you want more. To find out if you see him as more than a friend and a soldier and a lover, or if you see him completely, and all at once.

To find out if he is everything to you, like you are to him.

***

There is a loud rap on your door and it tears you, regretfully, from the tangle of limbs you are in. When the knock becomes more insistent, you apologise to the man blissed out beneath you and extricate yourself from his embrace, hastily cloaking yourself in a sheet and traipsing through your temporary apartment – home for the time being. Adrenalin piqued, you peer through the spyhole, relief flooding you when you see who it is.

“Santi? What the fuck?” you ask, opening the door to him and pressing the sheet to you with your remaining hand.

“Hi,” he says casually, the brim of his baseball cap pulled down over his eyes.

“I’m in the middle of something,” you bite, emphatically. “What in the hell do you want?” you hiss at him, keeping your volume low.

“You,” he says plainly.

Santiago looks you over; your flushed face, plumped lips and blatant post-orgasm glow. His jaw visibly clenches.

“What?!” you exclaim in confusion.

“I want you.”

You tear his blasted hat off to examine his eyes for sincerity, pushing it into his chest all bunched-up. He hastily stuffs it in his jacket pocket. Eyes narrowed, you appraise him a moment longer, clicking your tongue in disbelief at the nerve this man has before abruptly closing the door on him.

“Bye, Santi.”

“Wait!” he pleads, jamming his foot in the door and muscling through.

“What in the hell are you doing?!” you hiss again, backing-up and almost tripping over your sheet, which Santiago now has his mucky boots all over.

By this time, your hook-up for the night has heard the commotion and blustered through the dark apartment -in the nude- to ward off your supposed intruder. Your companion is bigger, sure, but he certainly shouldn’t mess with Santiago. He wouldn’t fare well at all.

You raise your hand to diffuse the situation. “It’s ok, he’s a friend. Sometimes,” you add with a tilt of your head.

Your companion’s face flashes with recognition as Santiago emerges from out of the shadows. “Oh. It’s you, from the bar. Here I was thinking we’d gotten rid of you already.”

Santiago simply glowers with bubbling aggravation at the man, who has the cheek to just stand there with his fucking schlong out, entirely undeterred. Santiago puffs his chest out, making himself larger.

“Please.” Santiago addresses you, tearing his eyes away from the man. “Can we talk?”

You sigh, unable to believe that you’re being stupid enough to agree to his demands. You turn back to the man you were enjoying being on top of until a moment ago. “Can you give us five minutes? I’m so sorry. I’ll be back.”

“Well - she might not be back,” Santiago suggests, and you glare at him, irritated.

The man looks between you and Santiago in disbelief before addressing you only. “Sure,” he says with a languid, sultry smile, ignoring Santiago entirely. “I’m willing to wait if we get to continue the fun we were having.”

“Oh he’s a cheeky fuck,” Santiago grates, his whole body tense, and you quickly grab his elbow to bundle him into the kitchen before he can do any further damage.

“You’re the cheeky fuck, Santiago.” Apparently that’s your type. You vaguely wonder why you keep subjecting yourself to this, but you certainly don’t wish to pull on that thread too hard. Not right now.

As you release his elbow, Santiago comes to face you in the narrow slip of a kitchen.

“Well? What in the hell are you doing here?” you rage whisper at him, folding your arms across yourself and tapping your foot impatiently on the tiled floor.

Santiago simply squares up to you, his expression formidable, unphased. His dark eyes trail over you again, snagging on the places where the sheet drapes over the contours of you. You are suddenly uncomfortably aware of how naked you are beneath it. “Told you. I want you.”

Normally, those words were enough. But not any longer. You scoff. “I know all about how you want me, Pope. Half-heartedly. You want me when it suits you. When you can’t have me. When there’s no-one else around for you to want.”

It is his turn to scoff now. “Casual is what you wanted. You gonna throw that back in my face now?”

You sigh, tiredly, refusing to get embroiled in this. This is all meaningless. He can twist things and make excuses all he likes, but Santiago is a man of action. If he wanted you? Really wanted you? He wouldn’t let a Goddamn technicality stand in the way.

You don’t have the energy for excuses. For this conversation. You’ve waited too long for Santiago to even realise there is anything worth talking about. So, instead of fighting back, you let it go.

“I’m done, Santi. I’m out.”

Your words feel like a relief to you, after bottling this up since you came to the decision. The relief extends through your body as you sag backward to lean up against the cold fridge door, that too relieving on your hot, sheening skin.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Santi dismisses your assertion instantly. He tended towards tunnel vision about some things. Just because he didn’t want out, he tended to assume that was true for everyone else. He was a connector, an enabler, and these factors combined meant the squad had stayed together a long time; far longer than it ever should have, like this time. He’d pulled his “retired” buddies back in, yet again.

“I’m for real, Santi,” you say in a small voice. “It’s already done.”

A veil of shock then betrayal passes over his face as the truth of your words sinks in. He takes a step back from you, as if he’s been sucker punched in the gut. His brows knit together and he looks down at the floor. “When?”

“Three weeks.” You figure you may as well rip the band-aid off in one go.

He turns his mouth down at the corners and slowly nods his head, doing an admirable job of containing whatever it is he is feeling, for the moment, while he gathers his intelligence. Mission above emotion, as ever. Santiago looks at the world through a scope sometimes, and he often forgets about the big picture. It always surprises you how a man so perceptive and attentive to detail -when he chooses to apply it- could fail to notice something right under his nose.

“Where?”

“Home. Desk-job, by the ocean. Private firm and a nice salary too. What’s not to love?” You add the extra information in an effort to detract from the thing you least wanted to face. Home is far. Far from him.

“Fuck,” Santiago breathes, finally looking up at you. “Because of me?”

You bristle again. “You arrogant piece of....” you sigh heavily, biting your lip and reminding yourself it isn’t worth it to grow aggravated. Plus, there’s a kernel of truth in his question, after all. You gather yourself before speaking again. “I stayed so long because of you, Santi. But I’m leaving for me. I’m tired of waiting.” Maybe he’ll notice you when you’re gone, you think. Maybe he’ll want you then.

“You can’t go. Someone with your skillset will be impossible to replace at short notice. How the hell am I supposed to keep the operation afloat without you?”

You shake your head softly, smiling in disbelief, his response confirming so many of your reasons behind going. Always focussed on the mission.

“Frankie’s looking into someone, actually. He knows a guy. He’s not as good as me, of course, but-”

“-You told Frankie?!” You can hear in his voice that the revelation hurts him. He has always been your confidant. But hey, things change, even if Santiago never does.

“Yeah, well,” you say thinly, through your teeth. “There’s plenty you don’t tell me, Santi.” You look at him pointedly. “Besides, I think you’ll manage. You always seem to find someone to meet your… needs. Don’t you?”

Santiago brings one arm up beside your head, leaning against the fridge with his palm, his dark eyes turbulent and boring into yours. “You’re the one who’s got some guy in there. What do you want from me, huh?”

He crowds you, but you can’t bring yourself to push him back. Instead, you languish more readily up against the fridge door, your grip on your sheet becoming less and less sure.

“Oh! That’s your fucking grand gesture? You came here to ask me what the hell I want from you?” Your passions rise, heart thrumming in your chest. You try and tell yourself it’s entirely from anger and nothing at all to do with his proximity. That it’s certainly not because of that look he’s giving you.

Speaking of proximity, Santiago’s now close enough to smell the other man’s scent on you. He’s leaning into you, breath ragged and desire clouding his eyes, even as you still bear the signs of being ravaged by another between your legs. Or perhaps… because of it.

Even as you stand here, like this, signs of another lover temporarily strewn over your person, it’s ludicrous to think another could claim you. You belong to Santiago. It’s Santiago who is indelibly written onto your body, the map of scars telling the story and you and him. The scar on your shoulder from a bullet wound, the scar on your calf from an off-road collision, the marks all over you serve as a reminder of the times Santiago has been there for you. Pressed his lethal hands to you to keep your lifeforce from ebbing away. He is your ride or die, and your body knows it.

Equally, as he stands there fully clothed, you know that his body similarly hosts a constellation of scars from all your shared moments; in the field, on missions, over continents. One of you could not hope to be read -to be understood- without the other. Your bodies would forever move through the world as a team, as a pair, even if you left his side.

You were each the key to cartographing each other’s lives. To imagine that the hickey on your neck or the slick between your legs could begin to compare to the way Santiago had marked you as his was almost comical.

“You really need a grand gesture to know I care about you?” You know what he’s asking. Is running into a hail of bullets for you not enough? Hasn’t he proven himself to you time and time again?

“Santi. I don’t doubt you care about me. I could never. I just… I don’t feel like you know yet what you want from me. And I can’t wait anymore for you to make up your mind.” You shrug. “I don’t know. I just feel like… like sometimes you don’t even see me because I’ve always been right in front of you.”

Santiago looks at you, pained, expression weighted, as if he can’t find the words to tell the story of you. But your bodies are not stories. They are maps, and maps are to be understood through being travelled. That’s why, when his hand slips to you shoulder to slowly trace the scar there, it makes sense. It is understood without words as his fingers journey over your skin, a varied terrain of memories flashing through Santiago’s eyes. His touch retracing years in only moments.

“I see you,” he insists, his voice a husk, his calloused fingertips trailing over your smooth, delicate skin. Making you feel weak. Making you want to become a soft, fluid thing beneath him. Oh, he’s looking at you now. There’s that attention that feels like it might end you. You commune wordlessly, breath quickening, that pulse of desire tending toward collision, the stillness of having arrived home as he touches you.

“I see you,” he purrs, his hand moving to your sheet, gently tugging it away from your grasp and giving you ample opportunity to protest. But you don’t. You don’t protest. You are symbiotic with him. You move as a team, and you can’t help but want to merge. Maybe that’s why you let him tug the sheet from your grasp, fabric pooling at your feet. Maybe it’s the ache between your legs. Maybe it’s because you know he gives it to you good.

Santiago exposes you completely to him, eyes then hands hungrily trailing down over your contours. His fingers grip your hips firmly as his mouth sinks into your neck, his hot breath fanning over you as he speaks.

“I see you, baby.”

Your arms are still pinned to your sides as you pretend that somehow you can resist your urges, despite being naked and needy and oh so ready in front of him.

“Fuck you, Santiago,” you breathe, voice trembling, and you know exactly what he’s doing as his lips and his teeth snag angrily over your skin. Reclaiming you. Marking you as his. And instead of pushing him away, you pull him closer to you. Instead of recoiling you arch your body against him, breasts pushing up against him, the cold metal of his chain harsh against your skin. The sturdy mass and heat of him beneath his clothes only highlighting how exposed and vulnerable you feel, your desire entirely on display like a flare in the dark.

His mouth has already ravaged your neck, your collarbone, his stubble abrasive against you, leaving a pleasant burn in its wake. His cologne is the only scent enveloping you now. Then, his hands rove over you, everywhere, like he’d wished they could in the bar, your skin still cloying, tacky with sweat. He paws at every bit of you as if to reinstate his claim on you. Your breasts, your ass, your hips, your thighs. He isn’t gentle. His hands showing their strength in a way they haven’t with you before now. He tongues your salty skin and the way his mouth punishes you is bitter like lime, foreshadowing his words.

“Did he make you come?” he asks into your neck, his hand slipping between your legs and finding you wet and welcoming. “Did he?”

“Yes,” you breathe, his voice commanding enough that you want to answer. Your face contorting as if in pain as Santiago continues to grind two girthy fingers over your folds. Your companion had made you wet, but nothing like this. All he’s doing is feeling you, coating himself, and Santiago has you drenched already; you can feel it slick against your inner thighs as you tremble under the weight of yourself, suddenly so heavy with lust that you can barely stand.

Your arms wind around his neck to steady yourself and he pins you between him and the fridge, your fingers inching up through the buzzed hair at his neck, nails trailing over his scalp and up into his grizzled curls as you finally become molten against him. Your hands fist in his hair and you tug his head up towards your lips, earning a grunt from him as pain needles across his scalp. The sound is growled into your mouth as his snarled kiss crashes against yours.

He’s frustrated, and he’s jealous, and he wants to show you that you’re his. What’s more, you want him to show you. Oh, how you want him to.

You shudder against the sudden blunt pressure of two of Santiago’s fingers at your entrance, your need urgent and a tightness building so immediately in your core. He pushes himself more firmly up against you, pinning you between his taut body and the fridge. His tongue ravages your mouth and your pleas for him to touch you become incoherent sounds that you work into him in return. His kiss is rough, his teeth scathing you, lips on yours in a crush, stubble grating at your chin and cheeks as he opens himself up as if to devour you. Then, he sucks your bottom lip in between his own and clamps his teeth down until you howl against the sting of it, bucking your body against the pain as you cry into his mouth.

With the bucking of your hips, you grind yourself against his hand, and Santiago barely needs to move as you willingly spear yourself on his fingers. He leaves you wanting though, allowing you just an inch of him when he has so much more to give. Already, the ridges of him against you are providing divine friction, his fingers curling and scissoring inside you, but he leaves you begging for more. Begging him to plunge himself all the way in.

“Did you think about me when you took him? Did you use him and wish it was me between your legs?” Santiago’s voice is like gravel in the shell of your ear, and his words curl into the depths of you. With them, he thrusts his fingers angrily into your heat, driving himself in all the way to the knuckle. Your eyes practically roll back into your head as he thrusts harshly and asks you again, even more insistent. “Did you?”

“Yes,” you admit, in a broken voice, tugging him closer to you, crushing your lips onto the column of his neck, tugging the collar of his shirt aside until you can bite down into the meat of his shoulder, stifling your moans there as his pace intensifies. His fingers are curling relentlessly towards your sweet spot and your walls are already fluttering against him. The heel of his hand is rocking against your excruciatingly sensitive clit, applying steady rolls of pressure as his fingers delve into you. His watch strap digs into your pubic bone but for some reason it only adds to the heightened sensations coursing through you.

“Do I make you feel good? Do I make you feel better with my fingers than he could with his whole body, huh?”

His words practically make you sob into him. It’s dirtier than you’ve ever heard him talk. It’s more intimate and further from friendship than anything you’ve done with him so far. Yes, you’ve fucked but this… this is something else. This is you admitting you are entirely his. This feels simultaneously more like battle and more like surrender than it ever has. And you wholly surrender.

You moan. You moan out loud despite the fact you shouldn’t. Despite the fact there’s still another man in the apartment who you had underneath you only moments ago.

“Are you gonna come on my fingers – show me who you belong to?”

You agree. You agree wholeheartedly.

Santiago pulls back just to watch you. To see the pleasure play over your face, both the overabundance of it and dearth of it as every touch satisfies yet has you craving more. You see a prideful glow in his eyes that he has you this wrecked, mewling and writhing on him as he adds a third finger into your wetness and pumps himself hard in and out of you.

“Fuck,” he intones, his voice hollowed-out. “You’re fucking drenched. Wettest I’ve ever felt.” God. You can hear how wet you are.

In dire need of some relief himself, Santiago presses his clothed, hardened length against your hip as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. Even through the substantial fabric of his jeans you can feel the thick, hard promise of him as he begins to grind himself against you, low and guttural moans escaping his sweet lips. The fact that he’s so fucking desperate for you, that you have made him hot enough to get off from only this has a knot tightening in the pit of you as you watch him start to unravel alongside you.

“Fuck, Santi,” you moan into the air, not even caring that there’s someone else in the apartment. Past caring about anything at all except your need for him to keep touching you, his fingers filling you up so well.

“That’s it, baby. Say my name, say you’re mine.”

Santiago is still grinding his clothed length against you, even as his fingers overflow with your essence. He dips his head into the crook of your neck and the growl he emits fans over your skin. Makes it sound as if he’s about to lose it too, simply from this. His spare hand dips down to collect one of your breasts and he lifts your nipple into his mouth, sucking and tonguing and biting the peak of you, squeezing you -not gently- as you topple towards your end.

He continues to grind against you, and the thought of him exploding in his pants for you tips you over the edge, his name tumbling from your lips over and over as you flutter and clench around his fingers. The feeling spreading outward through your body like an explosion, leaving you levelled, a resounding buzz reaching all the way to your extremities and whiting out your vision like a flashbang. Your fingers tangle in Santiago’s curls as you spasm against him, his fingers eking every last drop of pleasure from you - as though he knows his way around you better than anyone could.

At the feel and sound and sight of you coming undone, his hardened length grinds on you with renewed vigour, a wracked and disbelieving moan stuttering through him as he loses it without you having laid a finger on him. His body becomes stiff against you as he pulses his seed out beneath his clothes. Something about him being so lost in desire for you that he’d make a mess of himself like that has you clenching with deep, generous aftershocks, adrift with the thought of his hardened length pearling with his warm release.

Santiago’s head settles into the crook of your neck as you both come down together, even as his fingers continue to lazily pulse in and out of you - just to feel you. Your arms lovingly cradle his head, fingers tangling in his curls, your lips finding their way to his hairline to plant gentle kisses there. Your Santiago. In your arms.

You stay there a moment until your jagged breathing and thrumming heart settle, enjoying him languorously touching you. With a shiver of contentment, he withdraws from your heat, wrapping his unsullied hand around your waist to pull you closer.

For a moment, everything is in soft focus, like the break of day before an alarm. You close your eyes against his touch and breathe him in as he whispers lovingly into your neck, planting light kisses where a moment ago his puckered lips left angry bruises.

“Fuck. I love you. I love you. I adore you. I need you.”

When you don’t respond though, Santiago stills against you, lifting his head to look you dead in the eyes. He finds them tearing in the corners.

Your voice begins weakly. “You love me, Santi. But do you want a life with me? A life outside of the mission, outside of all of this?”

He brushes his thumb softly over your jawline. “I know I haven’t been all in. But I swear it to you, baby... you’re my end game. It’s just, we’re not there yet. We’re too deep in this shit. If we can get one more of Lorea’s deputies then maybe-”

“-Sure,” you say sadly, the word heavy and the intimacy of the moments prior dissipating quickly. You know fine well what “one more” means. You dip to collect your sheet from the floor and tighten it around yourself, using the motion in a vague attempt to distract both Santiago and yourself from the tears threatening more violently in your eyes now.

The footsteps you hear approaching the kitchen are a further welcome distraction, and you surreptitiously clean off Santiago’s hand on the already soiled sheet before your first companion of the evening (now fully clothed) pops his head around the doorframe.

“I’m just gonna leave,” he interjects awkwardly, and your cheeks flush in humiliation. You’re sure one day, far into the future, this may be a funny story you tell, but, right now? It feels more than a little mortifying.

“I’m so sorry. I…” You reach for a more robust apology but come up with nothing, far too aware that Santiago’s eyes continue to needle you. What are you going to do? Tell him it was fun? And so, since you opt to leave it hanging, your companion simply pumps his eyebrows once before striding smoothly out of your apartment. You jump slightly as you hear the door slamming shut behind him, evidently feeling a little on edge despite being wrung out so recently by bliss.

Your eyes linger on the doorframe a little too long, staring at nothing except the now vacated space. You’re not ready to turn your attention back to Santiago quite yet, and you’re much less ready to deal with what will follow.

It turns out, you don’t even have to look back at him, because your cowardice says it all for you. Instead, a small voice escapes him.

“You’re still gonna go, aren’t you?”

You look at him then, and you see a sadness blooming in his eyes which is so heart-breaking that you're half-glad when tears gather in your own, blurring-out the sight of him. His pain always was too much for you to look at.

Your gladness is short-lived however, as your own tears begin to spill out of you. You wipe the deluge away with the heel of your hand, but the tears are coming quicker than you can mop them up. Your chest shakes as you speak your next words.

“I love you, Santi. Believe me. I love you. But it’s always ‘just one more’.” One more woman. One more mission. One more way to break your heart. “You’re living like... like you can get to the end of the line and wish for one more fucking chance.”

“Don’t go. Please,” he pleads, moving close to you and wrapping his arms around you. His broad, warm hands at your back. “Please. I’m putting it on the line here. I want you. I love you.”

You smile thinly at him. You know he’s trying and God, you love him too. But this? For you, it’s too little, too late. For him, you guess you’re asking for too much, too soon. He’s not ready to leave this life. He’s not even ready to imagine leaving it. But, oh boy, you are. You are.

You sniffle and take a deep, steadying breath, giving it everything you have to stay firm, despite every fibre in you telling you to surrender. To just stay with him. It would be too easy to do.

“It’s a hard out, Santi.”

He senses the finality of your words and nods slowly, his eyes shining with tears, his whole face becoming taut with emotion. His silence is prolonged as he draws in ragged breaths. His hands slip away from your back and the moment slips away with them. You miss the warmth of them instantly.

“Okay,” he says in a small, curt voice. “Okay.”

He about turns, precise and efficient, swivelling towards the door and tracking along the hallway leading out of your apartment.

“Santi, wait!” you call, traipsing along after him, slowed by the material bundling at your feet. “Santiago Garcia, don’t you dare leave it like this,” you plead. “Not after everything.”

He turns his head back towards you as he swings open your front door. His eyes are cold, face set as he looks at you, his voice monotone. “I’m not the one leaving.”

An anger and a sadness erupt in you at the coldness, the cruelness of his words, and, apparently, not even the sight of the fresh batch of tears spilling down your cheeks can slow his retreat from your apartment.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia turns and swiftly walks out without looking back, leaving the door swinging violently on its hinges. The fucking nerve of this man.

You start after him; but he’s already making his way down the stairwell and you’re in no position to chase him. Your pain boiling over you yell, voice creaking under the weight of your emotion.

“I hope your fucking knees give out on the way down, you asshole.”

Your cruel, cheap words carry down the stairwell, yet an echo is all the response you get. Santiago is gone. He didn’t stop for a second.

He doesn’t know how to stop.

He’s mission over emotion. Near-death over living. He’s seemingly in this until it kills him, but you can’t be in it anymore. You have always been his ride or die, but now is the time for you to live, even if that means you can no longer be side-by-side with him.

He is the other half of you and no matter where you are to go, your bodies will move through the world as a team, one unable to be read without the other. Santiago is written all over you, and nothing can change that.

Besides, you know if he really wants to, he can always come find you. He has a map for loving you, if he would ever follow the route it was trying to take him. But he’s not there yet.

He just has one more mission to go.

And then the next.

And the next.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac

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mayahawkesfirstwife · 28 days ago

Text

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆

「 ✦ My Masterlist ✦ 」

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆

❦: fluff

★: smut

☹: angst

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆

Se-mi/Player 380:

Paranoid (Imagine) ❦

Needy (Imagine) ★

Sensitive (Imagine) ★

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆

Kang Sae-byeok/Player 067:

Drunk (Imagine) ❦

Surprise (Imagine) ★

Just a Dream (Imagine) ☹ ❦

Aftercare (Imagine) ❦

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆

Kang No-eul/Guard 11:

Hate sex (Imagine) ★

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆

Robin Buckley:

To All the Girls I’ve Loved Before (Series)

Part 1 ❦

Part 2 ❦

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆

Hazel Callahan:

Period (Imagine) ❦

Oblivious (Imagine) ❦

Drunken Confessions (Imagine) ❦

Dancing in the Rain (Imagine) ❦

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆

My requests are open!!

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆

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carminecherry · 3 months ago

Text

ENCLOSURE | mikey sano

this is part four of the series kill the lights

⇝ PAIRING: timeskip!biker!mikey sano x fem!reader

⇝ SERIES SYNOPSIS: after moving by yourself to tokyo, you black out at a party and wake up with a new friend. as she sweeps you up in her fast-paced city life, you feel yourself falling deeper and deeper for her mysterious brother. but something dark is brewing in the city. as his past threatens to resurface, mikey must fight not only physical enemies but the mental battle of his feelings for you. he can't resist you , but could he ever forgive himself if something happened to you? he'll love you selfishly and protect you savagely.

⇝ PART FOUR LENGTH: 2k words

⇝ PART FOUR WARNINGS: mentions of violence (18+ minors do not interact):

all characters are 20+; Alternate Universe! Canon Divergent. a friend from university invites you to his house party. as the drinks flow, you slip into a pleasant buzz. that is until a particular masked man makes his appearance, unveiling himself.

⇝ AUTHOR'S NOTE: a short chapter with a little spice at the end ;) more chapters coming soon! keep an eye on the tags and stay safe! <3

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK IF YOU ARE A MINOR. BY CLICKING THE READMORE, YOU CONSENT TO VIEWING ADULT CONTENT.

Your eyes flutter open as morning light trickles into your room. You bury your face in your pillow, trying to buy a few more moments of sleep. You had been having the most wonderful dream. It felt so real. Those delicious lips on your neck. Your hands running over his toned chest. The heat of your bodies pressed to one another. Please, just five more minutes. Five more hours. But your body betrayed you.

With a frustrated whine you turned over, resigning yourself to being awake. Rubbing your eyes, you feel your mascara clump under the pressure. Shit, had you fallen asleep in your makeup? You sat up, blinking sleep from your eyes. Your throat was dry to the point of being a bit sore but other than that, you had escaped one of Yuuki’s house parties without a hangover! You could count on one hand the times you’ve woken up after one of Yuuki’s parties without hating your life.

You rise, feeling gross from sleeping in your party attire. Quickly shedding your clothes and tossing them in the wash, you move to your bathroom. You washed your face gently and thoroughly, each splash of water a prayer that you didn’t get a breakout. You brush your hair and hop into a nice warm shower, rinsing off the unpleasant feeling that comes from not completing an evening ritual. Also taking the time to finish what your dream didn’t. After toweling off, you slip into the pajamas the sober you from last night had so kindly left out in preparation for the drunk you. Things don’t always go to plan, clearly.

Whipping up a quick breakfast, you rummage through the door of your fridge for the carton of iced coffee, grabbing a yogurt cup before closing the door and moving to your spot in front of the TV. There is decent counter seating at the small island in your kitchen, but you usually opted for sitting on the floor in front of your coffee table, resting your back on the sofa. You click the button on the remote and the screen illuminates, the news coming back from a commercial break.

You dig into the meal as you finally check your messages. The sound of the TV is mostly white noise as you open several messages from Emma. There is a thread of spam from the party. Her spelling getting progressively worse.

11:00 I lost you Im heading back frm the bathroom.

11:03 OMG Senju is here! You’d lioev her! Come meet her! *Blurry selfie

11:07 Where arrrreee yyyooooooouuuuu??,,

11:08 Og shit I forgot you an Mi

1:20 Y/N I lovw yoi thx ro tnotight

10:00 Fuck me. I’m so hungover. What happened last night?

You reacted to the message from this morning and quickly typed up.

“I’m so sorry! I Didn’t see these last night!!! … Are you sure you wanna know?”

You send the message before clicking out to open a message thread from Yuuki,

1:30 “It was great to see you Y/N. Hope you got home safely!”

You heart the message and reply,

“It was seriously AMAZING! Thank you so much for the invite! I hope the damage is’t too bad. LMK about next time uvu”

Just then, the report on the news caught your ear and your attention was dragged away from your phone screen. “Developing story: There was an Arson Attack at a car dealership in Roppongi in the early hours of the morning, Saturday. Police are reporting extreme property damage and evidence of a robbery as well as several cars missing from the lot. Two employees are in serious condition at the local hospital. A security guard has been placed under arrest. He is suspected of conspiring with the attackers after reviewing security tapes from the crime scene. The situation is still developing and anyone with information about this event is being urged to report details to the number below.”

The TV replayed clips from the security tape showing three masked figures and the security guard. They cut to a wide shot of the building now with a reporter in front, smoke still rising from the charred building as a phone number scrolled across the bottom of the screen. You shuddered. Japan was a safe country, but it meant that when something did happen it was big news. The faces of the two employees appeared on the screen, one younger and one who looked to be in his fifties. You mentally wished for a speedy recovery for the two of them. The news cut away to the newsroom and switched to the weather. It’s jarring how the world keeps turning, you think.

Your phone buzzes and your attention returns to the smaller screen in your hand. You take a big bite of toast. You read a new message from Emma.

“Noooooooooooo~ Is it bad, I’m gonna KMS”

“It’s not BAD bad, you were cute ;p But you should probably buy Yuuki a new houseplant”

“skull emojis”

“Regardless, I had a blast with you last night <3 I’m still up for coffee tomorrow if you are~”

She hearted the message and replied,

“Yeeeeesss~ I wanna check out that cute place you told me about in Shimbashi!”

Now it was your turn to heart the message,

“Meet at the station and then head there together? What time is good?”

“How about 11?”

“Sounds good to me! See you then!”

You finish the last of your yogurt, taking a sip of your coffee. You pull yourself up, depositing your dishes in the kitchen sink with a small clatter. Today was shaping up to be a lazy day. Your phone buzzes again, a message from Emma appears on the screen,

“Mikey is here and being annoying, do you care if I give him your number?”

You can’t help it when your heart beat increases, images of your dream flash in your mind. You type out,

“Sure! No problem, thank him again for dropping me off last night <3”

“Thank him yourself, I’m going back to bed”

She concluded by sending his contact details. You input his contact as Mikey with a strawberry emoji next to his name. A smile plays on your lips. You followed Emma’s instructions and typed up,

“Thanks again for last night!”

As you send the message you get another from Emma, a picture attached. You click it before shutting your phone quickly, face heating. You compose yourself. Opening it again. Emma’s message read,

“What the hell?”

And attached is a shirtless picture of Mikey, seeming to toss a plastic bag of something at the camera. It’s a bit blurry but the bruises wrapping around his ribs are clear as day. Mortified doesn’t even come close.

“AAAHSHHSHHSHHGGG!!!!!!!”

“Did you guys get into a fight or something? Please tell me you won ;p”

“Oh my god! *dead* I didn’t realize I was holding on so tight :’)”

“He drives like a maniac, I don’t blame you you should squeeze harder next time, just Heimlich him”

Emma’s joking helped to calm you down. You still felt an icky feeling that you had hurt him.

“If this job hunt keeps tanking, I’ll consider it the next time he’s hitting 100mph on the highway”

She likes your message before sending a short video. You press play. You see Emma chucking a pillow at him and yelling “Put on a damn shirt!” before the video cuts. You laugh, sending a pillow emoji. You open your chat with Mikey and follow up with another message,

“Hey, I saw the damage, sorry about that”

A bubble with 3 dots appears.

“I’ve had worse.”

He replies. The period at the end makes his message weirdly formal. You pause, unsure how to continue the conversation when another message pops up.

“You’re welcome.”

Period again. You like the message and respond,

“Next time I’ll squeeze lower, maybe we can get a cool pattern going.”

You cringe and move to unsend the message. A+ flirting. He likes your message before you do.

“Maybe we can come up with a better story too. Something other than you being a little wuss. Something that’ll impress the guys.”

“I’m not a wuss >:( look what I can do to a tough guy like you, and not even a scratch on me.”

He is typing a response for a while, you migrate to lie on the sofa under the AC.

“Touche.”

Is all he responds with. Feeling the conversation go dry, you lock your phone. You lay there, soaking in the cold air. You start a mental list of chores for the day; vacuum and mop, do a load of laundry, run to the grocery store. The joys of adulthood. You didn’t hate it as much as you used to. You learned to find peace in those little moments. Mindless tasks that allowed you to clear your head. An added bonus is having a tidy environment does wonders for your mood.

When you were younger you lived in organized chaos, your parents constantly chiding you to clean up. When did you become so sensitive to your surroundings you wonder. You peeled yourself from the couch, pulling up a podcast to keep you company while you set to your tasks.

It's always nice to have an enclosure day once in a while. Today had been much needed after all of the socialization yesterday. You hang your laundry to dry out on your balcony. Before retreating back indoors. Your house sparkled and you reveled in your hard work. You throw on a simple outfit for a grocery run. Your list was short, it would be a quick trip. You kill the AC in your room and check that your balcony door is locked before hunting for the remote to turn off the TV.

As you flip your couch cushions over, another news report flashes across the screen. “Breaking News. A young woman has just been attacked and stabbed in Roppongi. The attack occurred in broad daylight. The attacker is still at large. Witnesses say the attacker is a male, mid to late 20’s, around 180 cm and medium build. Residents are being urged to stay out of the area for their own safety. Be warned, footage of the attack taken by security cameras and bystanders are now circulating on social media. The suspect’s identity is still unknown. Viewers, please be advised that the following clips are graphic in nature. Those with any information about the attacker are being asked to report to the number at the bottom of the screen.”

The news cut from the caster to a grainy video shot on a cellphone. The woman’s body is blurred out. It showed the man standing over her before fleeing into an alley. The man was masked and the video was grainy and slowed in an attempt to reveal any identifying features. The same scene from a different angle is played. Finally a collage of screenshots of the man’s covered face are displayed on the screen.

The woman’s picture came up on the screen with her name and age. She was 22 years old. There had been no gore in the video, but you felt sick to your stomach. You flipped the TV off, sliding down the couch to sit on the floor. You weren’t close to that area of the city but you couldn’t help feeling scared. This type of crime, so violent in nature, is not normal here.

What really gnawed at you is that she was young, just making her way out in the world. You wondered if she had just graduated university. Your mind was spiraling. What dreams did she have? Why had that man done this? That pit in your stomach grew deeper and you felt sweat begin to prickle on your body. How long had you been sitting there? You hit the remote control to turn the AC back on. The TV remained off. You reassessed your fridge with new motivation and decided a grocery trip wouldn’t be necessary tonight.

#mikey sano x reader #manjiro sano x reader #manjiro x you #mikey x reader #Mikey Sano #Mikey Sano smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tr x reader #tokyo revengers fanfiction #tr smut #tr x you #carminecherry fics

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