#the way he traces her face. what if i cry

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Lily's Touch

Poly!Marauders + Lily x Reader who's experiencing her first heat...

Summary: The reader is experiencing her first heat, and nothing matter how hard she tries, she can't get the nest right.

WC: 1.4k

CW: Omegaverse, grammar and spelling, not proof read, references of intense emotions and the reader is elf conscious.

Remus knew it was coming- everyone did.

Seven years of Hogwarts, two years of living with your mates, and not once had you experienced a heat.

It didn’t bother him, not really. It didn’t bother any of them, but they all knew how much it bothered you. The way your shoulders tensed when Lily went into heat, how you’d quietly dote on her with sweet affections, offering soothing touches and cups of tea. But when it came to yourself, you withdrew, closing in on yourself like you didn’t deserve the same attention. You never said it outright, but they could see it- the way you felt left behind, as though your body had somehow failed you. It broke his heart.

They’d tried to comfort you in countless ways. Late-night reassurances, Remus’s soft words murmured over cocoa, James’s hand squeezing yours with that protective and reassuring energy, Sirius teasing you relentlessly until you couldn’t help but laugh, and Lily’s endless supply of comfort. They’d spent nights making sure you knew that even if you never went into heat, even if your body never did what you expected, it wouldn’t change how much they loved you. You were theirs, no matter what. But words only went so far.

Yesterday, everything changed.Remus was the first to notice.

It started small; little things, like the way you trailed after them through the house, never straying too far from anyone’s side. You clung to Sirius’s shirt that morning as he made breakfast, your fingers twisting in the fabric absentmindedly. Sirius had given you a curious look but said nothing, choosing instead to ruffle your hair and tease you lightly about being clingy. Normally, you’d respond with a sassy remark or a playful shove, but this time, you simply leaned into his touch with a quiet hum.

James noticed next. You curled up beside him on the couch, tucking yourself under his arm like you belonged there, and he didn’t question it. He simply wrapped an arm around you, pressing a soft kiss to your temple while Lily smiled knowingly from across the room.

By midday, it was undeniable. You were restless, unsettled in a way none of them had seen before. Your instincts were bubbling just beneath the surface, tugging at you in directions you didn’t fully understand. And by evening, it all came to a head.

The last sign was when Remus got up to move. You’d been half-curled in Sirius’s lap, Remus’s fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns along your ankle. But the moment he shifted to stand, you stared at him, wide-eyed and panicked, as if the simple act of him moving away was too much to bear.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Remus cooed softly, pausing in place. He hadn’t meant to upset you, but the way your eyes began to water sent a sharp pang through his chest.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, your voice small and shaky. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Remus whispered gently, stepping closer again. “Come here.” He opened his arms, and you immediately clung to him, pressing your face into his jumper with a sniffle of a cry.

That night, Remus took you to bed with him, and the simple act of being close seemed to calm you. But it was only the beginning.

The next day, it became clear to everyone- this was it. You were going into heat for the first time.

No one said a word, not wanting to put pressure on you. The human body was strange, and any small thing could ruin this. They wanted you to experience it at your own pace, to live through it without the weight of expectations. But by afternoon, as everyone gathered in the living room, it became impossible to ignore.

You’d gotten it into your head that you needed to build a nest. It started with a pile of blankets and pillows in the corner of the room, but no matter how much you arranged and rearranged them, it didn’t feel right. You’d build it up, only to tear it apart moments later, frustration growing with every failed attempt.

Remus had seen it coming- how you were spiraling between uncertainty and instinct, your body and mind at odds with something new and overwhelming. It made his chest ache, watching you struggle to build your nest, tearing it apart moments later as frustration clouded your features. He wanted to reach out, to tell you again that it didn’t matter if it was perfect. That you didn’t need to prove anything to them. You were enough. You always had been.

But he knew better. You needed to figure it out in your own way. Still, he stayed close, crouched beside you, ready to help if you asked.

Lily’s voice was calm and soothing, her fingers brushing through your hair as she murmured reassurances. “It’s okay, love. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

“But it feels wrong.” Your voice trembled, hands twisting in the fabric of a blanket as though it might somehow yield the answer you were looking for. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“It’s strange the first time,” Lily said gently, her hand never pausing in its soothing strokes. “You’re doing great, I promise.”

You didn’t seem convinced. Remus could see the doubt weighing on you, the way your shoulders tensed under Lily’s touch. It wasn’t frustration anymore; it was fear. Fear of doing it wrong. Fear of not being enough.

“You’re trying too hard,” he said softly, leaning in a little closer. “It’s okay to ask for help.”

“I don’t want to mess it up,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I just… I want to impress you. I want it to be good. I want to do it right for once.”

The words hit him harder than he expected. You didn’t need to impress them. You didn’t need to be anything other than who you already were. He reached out, gently taking your trembling hands in his own, giving them a soft squeeze. “You don’t have to impress us,” he said quietly. “We already think you’re incredible.”

James knelt beside you, hazel eyes warm with quiet affection. “We’re proud of you,” he whispered. “No matter what.”

Sirius plopped down on your other side, grinning as he draped an arm around your shoulders. “Come on then, what is it?”

You blinked at him, confused. “What’s what?”

Sirius shrugged, voice teasing but kind. “What’s that pretty head saying? What’s it want you to do?”

For a moment, you hesitated. Remus could see the conflict in your eyes, the way you bit your lip nervously. But then, something shifted. You let out a shaky breath, slowly rising to your feet. They all watched in silence as you paused, glancing around the room like you were searching for something. Your fingers twitched at your sides, your breathing uneven.

And then, as though pulled by an unseen thread, you turned and made your way toward the shared room. You hesitated at the door, casting a glance back at them, eyes uncertain, before stepping inside.

Remus followed quietly, stopping in the doorway as you approached Lily’s nest. He didn’t say anything, didn’t want to disturb whatever instinct was guiding you now. He only watched as you reached out, running your fingers over the soft blankets and pillows that made up Lily’s carefully crafted space.

You knelt down slowly, curling into the nest with a soft, content sigh, as though it was the only place you’d ever wanted to be. Lily covered her mouth with her hand, eyes glistening with unshed tears as she took in the sight of you nestled in her space. There was something unspoken between the two of you, something so deeply emotional that it made Remus’s throat tighten.

Of course. Of course, this was where you’d end up.

Was it really all that shocking? You had always been Lily’s girl. Always gravitated toward her warmth, her comfort. It made sense in a way that felt almost poetic, that your first heat would lead you to her nest, to the place where you felt safest.

Remus smiled softly to himself, heart aching with affection as he watched Lily crawl in beside you, wrapping her arms around you protectively. You sighed again, melting into her hold, and Remus knew- no matter how long it had taken, no matter how difficult it had been for you to get here- you were finally where you belonged.

[gothicfied]

can you write a squid game fic or head cannons of other characters finding out the reader is struggling with self harm? If so, thank you and I understand it is a sensitive topics and may be uncomfortable to write.

Squid Game season 2 characters x reader who struggles with sh

Featuring: Thanos / Player 230, Se-mi / Player 388, Cho Hyun-ju / Player 120, Nam-gyu / Player 124, Kang Dae-ho / Player 380, Park Min-su / Player 125, Kim Jun-hee / Player 222

(Trigger) Warnings: Mention/Talk about sh, depression, and things of this nature, this is comfort/angst, not proof read (english isn't my first language)

Summary: Basically what the ask says

A/N: hey! I hope this is what you imagined, sorry if some of these are ooc😞🙏

Thanos / Player 230

જ⁀➴ Before he really knew, he'd constantly make your life a living hell, basically making fun of your shyness. He'd make certain comments to which he knew you wouldn't react to or would try to persuade you to vote in favor of the game containing.

જ⁀➴ You'd constantly tell him off and to leave you alone. It didn't really help, though. Thanos would just sit down next to you and talk your ear off about what he wanted to do with that prize money.

જ⁀➴ When you stood up to leave, rollung your eyes at him, he grabbed you by your wrist.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Thanos blurted out, giving you an offended glare. "You know, it's really rude to just leave a conversation like that." When you tried to get out of his grip, your sleeves rode up your arm, revealing scars you weren't proud of or wanted him to see. When you realized it, he did too, immediately letting go of you.

જ⁀➴ Since Thanos knew what it meant to struggle with mental health he did actually leave you alone for now. But, after the next game, he approached you again and sat down next to you. "I'm sorry about yesterday." he said, patting you on the back.

જ⁀➴ He related to you in a way, but didn't want to ask you about what went on in your private life. Now you just appreciated that he seemingly didn't overstep any boundaries anymore and even checked up from you every now and then.

Se-mi / Player 388

જ⁀➴ You and her had been a duo ever since she came up to you and complimented your looks. Even if you denied it or not, she'd repeat it multiple times, winning you over with her charm quickly.

જ⁀➴ You two had the same mindset on a lot of things, originally voting 'O', thinking you were able to survive one more lousy game. That game was a death scare. Nothing about it was funny anymore. You appreciated your life too much these days to die like this.

જ⁀➴ When the second favor didn't go your way, both Se-mi and you now voting 'X', you felt helpless. One night, the two of you were sitting on her bed, just talking about your past and how you got to this point in the first place. While Se-mi was more secluded, only telling you that 'there are so much worse things she had to face when she got out' you trusted her enough to tell her about a sensitive time in your life.

"I'm not really secretive about this anymore," you pushed your sleeves up, revealing faded scars along your forearm, "but yeah. It was all pretty fucked up. The whole debt thing didn't make it any better." Se-mi looked at you with raised eyebrows, her fingers tracing the lines on your wrists. "I knew you were strong. Don't worry, we'll get out of here."

જ⁀➴ She put in double the work to protect you — She just wanted you to start a better life with that money and be happy, free from debt and all of it.

Cho Hyun-ju / Player 120

જ⁀➴ Hyun-ju noticed from the start that you were more secluded, more prone to cry, panicked easily. It was clear to her that you were struggling with this situation, perhaps even more than that. She made it her task to help you as much as she could, comfort you and keep you close to her and her group.

જ⁀➴ You'd often rant to her and tell her what bothered you after she reassured her she'd take care of anything possible. Hyun-ju was the anker you needed in this shithole and you just appreciated her very much. Everything she did seemed to be out of genuine interest and not just to gain your trust and abuse it.

જ⁀➴ Accidentally, Hyun-ju did catch a glimpse of the scars you were so desperate to hide. She didn't mention it, feeling like it wasn't her place to comment on it. Her heart did break for you, though.

જ⁀➴ From then on, she made sure to speak softer to you and distract you from all the horror around you.

Hyun-ju hugged you tightly against her chest, her arms engulfing your figure. "Tonight things could get a bit scary," she mumbled into your hair while she rested her face against your head, "I just want you to know now rather than find out later. I'll keep you safe, you know that." You just nodded, reciprocating the hug after a few moments.

Nam-gyu / Player 124

જ⁀➴ When he found out, as you didn't make the effort to hide them or anything, he did refrain from provoking you in any way. Nam-gyu related, as he considered his drug use not to be the best thing he could do to his body.

જ⁀➴ Both of you hung around in the same group, since Thanos really wanted you on his team, constantly giving you compliments and flirting with you. It annoyed him to a degree, scoffing everytime Thanos tried to talk to him about how pretty you were, how much he wanted you, give you the world. In Nam-gyu's opinion, he didn't get you.. didn't get what you went through, at all.

જ⁀➴ One evening before lights out, the two of you were teasing each other about something and laughed together — something that rarely occured amongst the other players.

"Want me to show you something?" Nam-gyu asked you, leaning a bit closer. Chuckling, you replied with a 'mhm' and watched him pull up the sleeve of his jacket, revealing skin tracks along the inside of his elbow. You raised an eyebrow: "Oh?" You took his arm to get a closer look, tracing his skin with your fingertips. "Well, we all have our stories, huh?" The man nodded at your wrists, making you look at them too, like you didn't already know what he meant.

જ⁀➴ The both of you grew close to each other, much to his amuse. He was a junkie, you were depressed.. it's like a disaster in the making. But, you didn't care. He was sweet and weirdly kind to you — Not in the way Thanos was. You made sure to hug Nam-gyu a few times more after that, in case it could be the last timd you'd get to do that.

Kang Dae-ho / Player 380

જ⁀➴ You were glad to be on Gi-hun's team from the start, since Dae-ho and you got along really well. As a former Marine, which he was super proud of obviously, he declared he'd protect you immediately after you met, making you laugh.

જ⁀➴ He was kind, strong and funny, but maybe a bit oblivious at times.

During the six-legged pentathlon, you two sat next to each other, cheering the current active team on. Yelling and screaming filled the area as they crossed the finish lind just in time, making everyone erupt in cheers. Dae-ho immediately hugged you with joy, excited to see the five live another day, at least. After pulling back witha laugh, you gave him a small high five with your sleeve rolled back. When noticing scars along your wrist and forearm, the former marine gasped pretty loudly. "What?" you asked with genuine concerning, fearing something was wrong with you. "Oh, I'm so sorry," Dae-ho pulled your sleeve back over your arm. "Dude," he looked at you with wide eyes "it's fine." You needed to hold back a laugh.

જ⁀➴ Dae-ho felt so bad to havs accidentally seen something you've been struggling with, that he couldn't help but apologize profusely. You repeated to him that it wasn't a big deal for you and that you were working on this problem, but he didn't stop nonetheless.

જ⁀➴ You thought it was cute how much he seemed to care for you and how often he came up to you just to tell you that he appreciated you. And Dae-ho did, he didn't just say that to make you feel better.

Park Min-su / Player 125

જ⁀➴ Min-su is just shy over all. When he noticed it, he wouldn't say a thing. He'd be dead silent, maybe even a bit scared to talk to you. He was just scared he'd make it awkward, somehow hinting that he knew about your scars. Min-su was just someone who overthought a lot and even you noticed it.

જ⁀➴ After a bit, it annoyed you — The sudden lack of his presence next to you, the fact that he wouldn't properly talk to you anymore, it was all just weird and confusing. So, you decided to ask him directly.

"Did I do something wrong?" your voice wasn't stern, but Min-su could tell that you were kind of upset. "Ah, no-" he quickly replied back, shaking his head, "it's really not you!" He looked at you with his typical innocent face, making it hard for you to keep pressing him about this matter. "Then what is it, seriously?"

જ⁀➴ He explained what he saw and said that he just felt so sorry. Well, at least he didn't speak to you because he didn't want to hurt or upset you, which was really thoughtful.

જ⁀➴ You'd expect that he would now be the one to comfort you or something, but no it was the complete opposite. Min-su seemed to worried about you and kept asking you how you were feeling or if anything bothered you. You had to keep reassuring him that those times were in the past and that he didn't have to be so worried.

જ⁀➴ It was really cute though, so you let it slide.

Kim Jun-hee / Player 222 (implied fem!reader)

જ⁀➴ Since Jun-hee and you were pretty close in age, you two had found each other right away. You kept telling her that she needed more protection, or at least an ally like you, on her side sincs she was pregnant. You weren't really serious about that, just chuckling when bringing it up, but ut definitely made Jun-hee trust you a lot more. It was a critical situation she was in and she was glad to have you by her side.

જ⁀➴ You even banged on the door in the middle of the night to make the guards take her to the bathroom when she was to shy to do it herself.

As ths pink guard brought you to the womens bathroom, Jun-hee held onto you, clearly being in pain. A few minutes later, you were washing your hands and tried to fix yourself up, looking a bit disgusted in the mirror. "What is it?" Jun-hee emerged from one of the stalls, chuckling. "Man, I look like a damn zombie. Look what this place has done to us." Instead of getting a reply, you noticed that she was staring at your arms, at your scars. You had taken your jacket off for convenience and kind of forgot about them. "Oh, I'm sor-" Jun-hee interrupted you, "No! No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have stared like that!"

જ⁀➴ Obviously everyone had their struggles, but now her own kind of seemed insignificant next to yours. You were doing so much for her and she didn't even know that you were struggling. She should've thought of that.

જ⁀➴ When voicing that thought to you, you felt bad that you made her feel like that. With a hug, it was all sorted out. Jun-hee cared deeply for you and she could tell that you cared for her like that, too. It was nice to know that someone had your back in a place like this.

[psychslvt]

me and my bf might have a threesome tmr night and the other guy isnt that kinky so heres my ideal threesome if i could make it perfect!!

daddy has me tied up with my thighs spread, lightly tracing my pussy with his finger. he gets a notification on his phone and smiles down at me.

"you have no fucking idea whats coming."

he grabs a slip of fabric and ties it around my head, leaving me defenseless and unable to see or move. "stay there baby" he murmurs as he leaves, as if i have a choice.

a few minutes later he returns, but this time with another pair of footsteps. i start to panic and struggle against my ropes, crying out and asking whats going on.

a sharp slap against my cheek silences me. "shut up, slut." i quickly shut my mouth right before he hits me again, much harder. "what do you say after i tell you to do something, huh?"

i twitch but keep my mouth shut, angry about my situation. he slaps me a third time on the other side of my face, the hardest one yet, before grabbing my face and hissing into my ear, "you stupid bitch. you better switch that fucking attitude or i swear to god you'll regret it. there are two of us and one of you and you're all tied up and presented to us like a fucking whore, how do you think thats gonna go for you?"

"im sorry daddy" i whimper in response before he shoves my head back and draws away.

"good." he steps back and speaks to the other person in the room. "you can touch her now."

"fucking finally" a second voice greets, higher and sharp. "where do you want me"

"can you restrain her for a minute while i take these ropes off her? i dont think we need them." i feel someones cold hands wrap around my naked body, holding me in place while daddy unties me. i feel the strangers hands pinch and squeeze my nipples and i whine while he laughs at me.

"shes fucking pathetic. is she always like this?"

"no," daddy says, "shes usually a lot brattier. she must be scared."

"aw are you scared baby? are you fucking scared?" he grabs ahold of my throat with one hand, cutting off the flow of blood to my brain. "good. you should be"

my eyes roll back as i suddenly feel my boyfriend's tongue on my clit, lapping gently before licking up my cunt. i moas as he eats me out, all while his friend abuses my exposed chest. daddy adds his fingers in too, pressing his other hand on top of my cervix and before i know it i'm about to cum. he yanks his fingers out of me.

"dumb fucking whore, youre only allowed to cum after we do."

against the hand around my neck i rasp out a "please" before daddy draws back and slaps my cunt.

"you better get to work then, bitch" i hear his tone of voice shift as he adresses his friend, "do you wanna fuck her now?" i hear him agree and before i know it they've swapped positions and flipped me onto my stomach and i can feel the tip of his dick pressed against me. "you better be grateful for that prep earlier because thats the only thing you're getting tonight. okay?"

"yes daddy," i moan as an unfamiliar dick slowly pushes its way into me.

"fuckk," i hear the voice behind me moan as he pulls back out slowly just to slam back into me and start fucking me at a brutal pace.

"wait wait wait!" i beg, squirming as i try to push past the pain of the sudden roughness.

"you want me to wait? too fucking bad bitch. your daddy said i could do whatever i wanted to you so youre at our fucking mercy." he slaps my ass so hard i yelp and grab out for my boyfriend's hand. i hear his friend laugh right before the sound of daddys belt unbuckling, a moment before he grabs the back of my head and yanks it up by my hair. i feel the tip of daddys dick slap against my open mouth and tongue.

"can you be a good girl and take two dicks at once like we talked about? yeah?" he murmurs to me as a whine out a desperate "yes," before i feel him push himself inside of mouth.

instantly i can feel how big he is and i fight to restrain my gag reflex while he sinks deeper into my throat and his friend fucks me roughly from behind. i moan around his dick right before i gag for the first time. i hear him laugh before pulling out of my mouth and slapping me.

"none of that, okay? stay fucking still."

"yes daddy," i manage to rasp before he shoves his dick down my throat again. my head goes blank as the lack of oxygen starts to get to me, barely registering whats going on as im being fucked by two men at once. after a while i hear his friend groan that hes gonna cum before his hips come to a stuttering stop and he gasps, pausing for a second and catching his breath while daddy finally relents and i draw off his dick with a grateful sob, tears shining on my cheecks and drool on my chin.

"oh you're not done yet," i hear him growl before i'm flipped over again and my hands are held back by daddy until his friend comes over and takes his place. he moves to get between my legs, running a finger up my cunt and pushing what cum had seeped out of me back in. "youre such a slut i can't fucking believe youre doing this," he taunts. i start to respond before i feel both of his hands wrap arond my throat, cutting me off.

"not a fucking word."

he thrusts into me all at once and a practically scream as i feel myself stretch around his dick. his friend lets go of my hands and guides one of them to his dick, guiding me as i jerk him off. "there you go," he mutters, "fuck youre so fucking slutty."

"isn't she?" daddy, responds, punctuating each word with a particularly hard thrust. "its so fun to lend her out. she doesnt get a say in it and at the end of the day shes still fucking mine."

his friend murmurs an agreement before i feel my boyfriends hands squeeze even tighter around my neck as i lose consciousness completely. when i come to i can tell hes close, fucking into me so fast and hard that my mind stays blank and i start babbling pleas and moans for him to stop, crying that it hurts.

"fuck thats so hot fuck dont stop crying im not gonna fucking stop" he groans as he continues, moving one hand to grab mine. it's all i can do to lie there and take it while my other hand is being quickly jerked up and down his friends dick.

"fuck im gonna cum again," moans his friend, "open your fucking mouth. i comply and i feel him cum in my mouth, the foreign salty taste startling me. he goans as i swallow. "good girl."

daddy fucks into me even faster and i can tell hes close. i wrap my legs around his back and he cums inside of me, groaning as he fills me up. he stays like that for a while before slowly pulling out, his cum mixed with his friends' immediately dripping out of me. he removes my blindfold before pulling me in for a gentle kiss.

"you did so good baby, he whispers sweetly. "lets get you cleaned up."

AAH THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SHORT but here we are. not proofread or anything i hope this is okay and u guys like it >.<

[satansdarlin]

Marigold Margins

oneshot

Tim drake x Fem!reader, Established relationship, period comfort

notes: made this cause I was having terrible period cramps

word count: 4.4 K

rating: G

Warnings: None :)

The penthouse was unusually quiet when Tim returned home well past midnight. The board meeting had dragged endlessly, but your morning message calling in sick had lingered in his thoughts all day. A simple "Can't make it in" followed by a string of crying emojis had been unlike your usual professional demeanor.

The bedroom was dark save for the faint city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. A mountain of blankets on the bed shifted slightly at his entrance, and he noticed the usually neat space was scattered with tell-tale signs of your day: empty tea mugs, a half-eaten pack of crackers, and what appeared to be a hot water bottle peeking out from the blanket pile.

"Baby?" Tim's voice was barely above a whisper. A muffled groan emerged from the blanket fortress. "Oh, sweetheart." His hand traced the outline of your form beneath the layers.

"I want to cease existing," came your pitiful declaration from somewhere within the cocoon. "Everything hurts. My back feels like someone's trying to fold me in half backwards."

"Not on my watch," he murmured, amusement threading through his concern. "Have you taken anything today?"

"Ibuprofen. Twice. Barely touched it." You shifted, and he caught a glimpse of your pale face in the dim light. "The cramps woke me up at three AM. Couldn't even stand straight enough to make it to the office."

Tim's expression softened. He knew how much you hated missing work, how seriously you took your position. For you to call in, it must have been truly unbearable.

"Why didn't you call me earlier?" He was already shrugging off his suit jacket, mind cycling through ways to help.

"You had the board meeting. The expansion plans." Your voice was muffled again as you burrowed deeper into the blankets. "I didn't want to... distract..."

"Hey," his tone grew firm, "your wellbeing is never a distraction."

He located the heated blanket, plugging it in and carefully arranging it over your curled form. The medicine cabinet in the bathroom yielded extra strength painkillers, and he filled a glass of water.

"Here," he offered both to you. "Small sips."

You emerged just enough to take the medicine, and he noticed the slight sheen of sweat on your forehead, the way you winced at even the small movement.

"I'm going to run you a bath - the really hot kind you like. And then I'm calling Indi."

"Why Indi?" you mumbled, already curling back into your nest.

"Because last time this happened, she brought that special tea blend that actually helped. And because she'll kill me if I don't let her know you're suffering."

A weak laugh escaped you. "You're too good to me."

"Just good enough," he corrected softly, pressing his lips to what he hoped was your forehead through the blankets. "Try to rest. I'll be right back."

In the bathroom, he started filling the oversized tub, adding the lavender bath salts you kept for especially rough days. His phone was already out, typing a message to Indi:

To: Indi

Message: Monthly visitor hit hard. She's in rough shape. Any chance you still have that tea blend?

The response was immediate:

From: Indi

Message: I’ll be there first thing in the morning with supplies. Tell her to hang in there. Making her favorite soup too.

Tim smiled slightly, grateful not for the first time for your support system. He returned to the bedroom, finding you had migrated slightly toward the edge of the bed.

"Bath's almost ready. Think you can make it?"

"If you help me?" Your voice was small, vulnerable in a way you rarely allowed yourself to be at work.

"Always," he promised, already moving to assist you. "Indi's on her way with reinforcements."

"Mm, you love me."

"Yes," he said simply, helping you stand. "I do."

.

.

.

In the morning, the sun had just barely crested over the horizon and you were bundled up in Tim's oversized Gotham University hoodie and a pair of well-worn sweatpants. The familiar scent of his laundry detergent mixed with the persistent aroma of Indi's infamous liver soup - a "family recipe" she swore by during these times. You were curled into the corner of the plush sectional, looking absolutely miserable as your sister wielded a spoon like a weapon.

"Come on," Indi coaxed, the soup spoon hovering dangerously close to your face. Dick was perched on the arm of the couch beside her, poorly concealing his amusement at the scene. "It's good for you!"

Tim, settled in the armchair nearby, let out a poorly suppressed snicker at your expression of absolute betrayal.

"If it's so amazing, why don't you all-" your indignant protest was cut short as Indi, ever the opportunist, shoved the spoon into your open mouth. Her triumphant "Ha!" echoed through the penthouse.

"You need the iron," she insisted, already preparing another spoonful. "Your color's terrible."

"It tastes like sadness and betrayal," you whined, pulling Tim's hoodie up to cover half your face. "Why can't I just take iron supplements like a normal person?"

"Because," Indi started, her voice taking on that familiar lecturing tone, "this is Grandma's recipe. It helped me, it helped Scarlet, and it's going to help you."

Dick leaned forward, his expression sympathetic but clearly entertained. "You know she's not going to give up, right? I've seen this exact scene play out with Babs."

"Traitor," you muttered, but accepted another spoonful with minimal resistance. "You're supposed to be on my side."

"I'm on the side of not having my girlfriend worry herself sick about her baby sister," Dick countered smoothly.

Tim watched the exchange with soft eyes, noting how even in your misery, there was something comforting about the familiar family dynamic. Your phone buzzed - probably Scarlet checking in for the hundredth time today.

"How about this," Tim offered, "three more spoonfuls and we can watch that terrible reality show you pretend not to love."

Your eyes narrowed at him over the hoodie. "Five episodes?"

"Three."

"Four, and you don't complain about the drama."

"Deal," he conceded, earning an approving nod from Indi.

"See?" Indi beamed, "Compromise! Now open up for the airplane..."

"I will literally fire all of you," you threatened weakly, but opened your mouth anyway.

Dick's laugh was warm. "Pretty sure you can't fire me. Indi and I don't even work with you and Tim is literally your boss,"

"I'll find a way," you mumbled around another spoonful of soup, but there was no heat in it. Just the comfort of being surrounded by people who cared enough to force-feed you liver soup and negotiate reality TV treaties.

Tim's hand found yours under the blanket, squeezing gently. Another spoonful down, two to go, and then maybe - just maybe - you'd admit that the soup was helping. But not out loud. Never out loud. You had a reputation to maintain, after all.

"Last bite," Indi announced triumphantly, wielding the spoon like a victory flag. "And then my work here is done."

You swallowed dramatically, collapsing back against the couch cushions. "If I die, tell Scarlet it was Indi's soup that did it."

"Drama queen," Dick teased, but he was already reaching for the remote. "Which trashy show are we subjecting ourselves to tonight?"

"Real Housewives of Gotham," you and Indi said in unison, causing Tim to groan softly.

"You promised not to complain," you reminded him, shifting to rest your head against his shoulder as he moved to join you on the couch. The heating pad was still warm against your abdomen, and his presence was steadying.

"I'm not complaining," Tim defended, adjusting the blanket around you. "I'm just... expressing concern about your taste in television."

Indi bustled around the kitchen, cleaning up the soup aftermath and preparing what sounded like tea. Dick had somehow produced a bag of chocolate-covered almonds from somewhere - your favorite guilty pleasure snack that you were pretty sure Tim had started keeping stocked just for these occasions.

Your phone buzzed again:

From: Scarlet

Message: Soup status? Did they get it into you? Don't make me come over there.

To: Scarlet

Message: Mission accomplished. Your evil minions succeeded.

From: Scarlet

Message: Good girl. Rest up. Love you.

"Scarlet checking in?" Tim asked softly, his fingers absently running through your hair.

"Mmhmm. Making sure the torture was successful." You nestled closer, the combination of warmth, full stomach, and pain medication making you drowsy.

"Here," Indi returned with mugs of her special tea blend. "This should help with the cramping."

"If it tastes anything like the soup..." you started to protest, but Indi's stern look silenced you.

"It's peppermint and ginger. Maybe a few other things. Family secret." She settled back next to Dick, who immediately draped his arm around her shoulders.

The show started playing, its familiar dramatic intro music filling the penthouse. Tim's hand hadn't stopped its gentle motion through your hair, and you could feel yourself starting to drift despite the theatrical arguing on screen.

"You can sleep," Tim murmured, just for you. "We won't tell the Housewives."

"'m not sleeping," you protested weakly. "Just resting my eyes."

Dick's soft chuckle suggested he didn't believe you either, but you were too comfortable to argue. The pain had dulled to a manageable ache, and the familiar voices of your favorite guilty pleasure show mixed with the quiet conversation between Indi and Dick.

"Thank you," you whispered to Tim, not sure if he heard it.

But his gentle kiss to your temple suggested he had.

The last thing you registered before drifting off was Indi's voice: "Dick, don't you dare tell Bruce about the soup recipe. Some things need to stay in the family."

.

.

.

Consciousness returned slowly, accompanied by the gentle hum of familiar voices. The penthouse - usually your and Tim's quiet sanctuary - had transformed into what could only be described as organized chaos. Tim was still asleep beside you, his breathing deep and even, one arm protectively draped over your middle where the heating pad had slipped.

The scene unfolding before you was like something from a Renaissance painting of domestic life. In the kitchen, Alfred and Indi were deep in conversation, recipe cards spread between them like battle plans. Alfred's eyes twinkled as your sister demonstrated what looked suspiciously like the proper way to dice vegetables.

"Master Timothy always did prefer the carrots julienned," Alfred was saying, his fond smile evident in his tone.

Near the window, Jason and Dick's hushed argument with Damian had something to do with proper gaming console setups - their gestures becoming increasingly elaborate while trying to maintain their whispered volume.

"Pennyworth's setup is clearly superior," Damian insisted, arms crossed.

"Yeah, if you're living in 1995," Jason countered.

Stephanie and Cass had claimed the bar stools, systematically working their way through what appeared to be Alfred's special triple chocolate brownies. They shared knowing looks each time they successfully nabbed another piece without drawing attention.

Your baby sister Petal had commandeered a corner of the room, her easel set up to capture the whole scene. Her tongue poked out slightly in concentration - a habit she'd had since childhood - as she mixed colors on her palette. The morning light caught her dark hair, making the purple streaks she'd recently added shimmer.

Bruce and your mom had claimed the comfortable armchairs by the window, sharing what looked like coffee and quiet laughter. Your mom's eyes crinkled at the corners the way they always did when she was truly relaxed, and Bruce's usual stern demeanor had softened considerably.

"I swear," your mom was saying, "teenagers are the same whether they're vigilantes or not."

"Tell me about it," Bruce replied with a knowing smile.

Near the dining room, Barbara was patiently explaining something about the smart home system to Duke, who looked both impressed and slightly overwhelmed.

"So you're saying Tim basically built his own AI?" Duke whispered.

"More or less," Babs confirmed. "Though don't let him hear you call it that. He's very specific about the terminology."

You couldn't help the warm feeling spreading through your chest at the sight of both your families so naturally intertwined. Pressing a soft kiss to Tim's neck, you felt him stir slightly.

"The cavalry arrived while we were asleep," you hummed against his skin, watching his eyes flutter open.

"Mm," he mumbled, taking in the scene. "Alfred's here. That explains why it smells edible."

"I heard that, Master Timothy," Alfred called from the kitchen, not even turning around.

You stifled a laugh against Tim's shoulder as he had the grace to look slightly sheepish. Your phone buzzed - another text from Scarlet:

From: Scarlet

Message: Stuck at the shop but Harkin insists on sending you his latest masterpiece. [Picture attached: a somewhat abstract crayon drawing of what might be you, surrounded by what appears to be every color in the crayon box]

To: Scarlet

Message: It's beautiful. Tell my favorite nephew he's definitely getting extra cookies next visit.

"How are you feeling?" Tim asked softly, his hand finding yours under the blanket.

Before you could answer, your mom's voice carried across the room: "Don't let her tell you she's fine, Timothy. She always says she's fine."

"Mom!" you protested, but there was no heat in it.

"She's right, you know," Tim murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You always say you're fine."

The smell of fresh bread suddenly wafted through the penthouse, making your stomach growl traitorously. Alfred and Indi shared a knowing look.

"Perfect timing," Alfred declared. "Master Timothy, if you would assist in setting the table? I believe we'll need the extended leaves for this gathering."

Your attempt to help was immediately shut down by no less than three people.

"Don't you dare," Indi warned, wielding a wooden spoon threateningly.

"Sit," Tim commanded gently, untangling himself from you.

"TT. Drake's companion should rest," Damian added, surprising everyone. When they stared, he shrugged. "Pennyworth says so."

Your mom approached with a fresh mug of tea, settling beside you on the couch. "How's my baby really feeling?"

"Better," you admitted, accepting the tea. "The soup helped. Don't tell Indi."

"Your secret's safe with me." She smoothed your hair back, just like she used to when you were little. "Though I think everyone knows by now. Family recipe and all."

The word 'family' caught you, making you look around the room again. Bruce was now helping Tim with the table, their movements synchronized from years of practice. Jason had somehow been roped into helping Alfred plate food, though he kept stealing bites when he thought no one was looking. Petal had convinced Cass to pose for a quick sketch, while Stephanie offered increasingly ridiculous pose suggestions.

"Speaking of family," your mom's voice was careful, measured. "Bruce and I were talking..."

"Mom," you warned, knowing that tone.

"Just hear me out. The penthouse is lovely, but that Manor has so much space. And Alfred mentioned something about the guest house being renovated..."

You nearly choked on your tea. "Are you and Bruce trying to get us to move to the Manor?"

"It would be practical," Bruce chimed in, apparently having bat-hearing when it came to Manor-related conversations. "Shorter commute for both of you."

"And closer to family," your mom added.

"We're literally having this conversation while everyone's here in our penthouse," you pointed out.

"The Manor has a better security system," Tim contributed, earning him a betrayed look.

"Et tu, Timothy?"

He raised his hands in surrender, but you could see the consideration in his eyes. Before you could protest further, Alfred announced that lunch was ready.

The spread was impressive - fresh bread, three different soups (including a conspicuous absence of liver), and what looked like enough food to feed a small army. Which, given the current occupancy of your penthouse, seemed appropriate.

"I can't believe you're all conspiring about real estate while I'm vulnerable," you grumbled, but allowed Tim to help you to the table.

"Master Timothy," Alfred said as he placed a bowl of your favorite soup in front of you, "perhaps we should also mention the plans for the greenhouse?"

Your eyes lit up despite yourself. Tim shot Alfred a look that clearly said 'traitor.'

"Greenhouse?" you asked, interest piqued.

"I was going to mention it when you were feeling better," Tim admitted. "Bruce suggested we might want to restore the east greenhouse. It's got good light for your herbs..."

"And it's right next to the guest house," Bruce added innocently.

"You're all impossible," you declared, but you were smiling.

Your phone buzzed again:

From: Scarlet

Message: They're trying to get you to move to the Manor aren't they? Mom just texted me. I vote yes. Better security.

To: Scarlet

Message: Traitor

The family meal continued around you, conversations overlapping, laughter filling the space. Tim's hand found yours under the table, squeezing gently.

"We don't have to decide anything now," he murmured.

"I know." You leaned against him slightly. "But maybe... maybe we could look at the greenhouse?"

His smile was worth the chorus of triumphant looks from both your families. 

You were watching Jason pass by your seat when something caught your eye - a familiar glint of metal on his key ring. Beside his motorcycle key and what you recognized as his Manor key hung a delicate rose pendant... and a very familiar brass key that you'd seen countless times at Scarlet's flower shop.

"When did you get a key to Scarlet's shop?" The question left your mouth before you could stop it, casual but pointed.

Jason froze mid-step, his expression flickering for just a split second - but long enough for you to catch it. Years of training with the Bats couldn't quite hide the deer-in-headlights look that crossed his face.

The pieces suddenly clicked into place.

"YOU'RE THE MYSTERY GUY!" The synchronized shout from you, Indi, and Petal made several people jump. Dick actually choked on his water.

"The one who's been leaving the poetry books?" Indi gasped.

"And the vintage botanical prints?" Petal added, her paintbrush forgotten mid-stroke.

"The reason she's been humming love songs while arranging flowers?" You finished, watching Jason's composure crack further with each accusation.

Tim's eyebrows had shot up so high they were practically in his hairline. "Jason, you've been dating Scarlet?"

"I... we..." Jason ran a hand through his hair, a rare sign of nervousness. "It's not... we were going to tell everyone..."

"When?" Bruce asked, looking both amused and intrigued.

"Eventually," Jason muttered.

Your phone was already in your hand:

To: Scarlet

Message: JASON TODD?!?! THE POETRY BOOKS WERE FROM JASON?!

The response was almost immediate:

From: Scarlet

Message: ...I can explain?

Message: Actually no I can't. Surprise? 😅

Message: DO NOT TERRORIZE HIM I SWEAR TO GOD

"How long?" you demanded, turning back to Jason who was now looking increasingly like he wanted to jump out the nearest window.

"Six months," he admitted finally.

"SIX MONTHS?!" The collective exclamation made him wince.

"Does this mean Jason is going to be our brother-in-law?" Petal asked innocently, making Jason choke on air.

Your mother gave Indi a pointed look. She was glaring daggers through Jason's back with a protective older sister aura that made her seem like the biggest threat in the room – which, considering the present company of vigilantes, was quite an achievement.

"Indigo..." Your mom spoke in a warning tone. Indi tore her gaze away from Jason's backside.

"You can't blame me for being cautious," Indi mumbled, fingers tapping an agitated rhythm against her thigh. "Last guy she was with knocked her up and left."

"Maybe that's why Scarlet didn't tell us," you murmured under your breath. The moment the words left your mouth, you saw Indi's expression shift from anger to understanding, her shoulders dropping slightly.

Your mother placed a gentle hand on her eldest daughter's shoulder and guided her toward the kitchen for a private discussion. Left in the aftermath, you looked up at Jason and offered an apologetic smile.

"Sorry. Indi is just... protective. She doesn't show it often, but you didn't just come into one of her sisters' lives – you're in her nephew's life too." You explained, watching Jason's expression carefully. "And well, Scarlet didn't let us hunt down her ex." You lowered your voice to add, "Not that it stopped me."

Tim quirked a brow at you, and you felt your cheeks warm slightly. "I may have gotten him blacklisted in most of Gotham's elite circles?"

Tim let out an amused chuckle, not at all surprised you'd basically doxxed the guy. His arm tightened around you slightly – proud, not disapproving.

"Well, if I see the guy on the street it's on sight," Jason grumbled, his jaw set in a way that suggested he meant every word. The declaration made you and Petal both smile.

"That's enough for a seal of approval from me," you declared, then turned to your youngest sister. "What about you, Rose?"

Petal nodded with all the gravity of a supreme court justice delivering a verdict. "Agreed, sister." She leaned over toward Damian, whispering something that made him roll his eyes but nod nonetheless.

The sight made your chest swell with pride. If you hadn't gotten that job under Tim a few years back, none of this would have happened. Your families would have never merged into this beautiful chaos. Damian and Petal would never have become best friends (though Damian insisted Rose was "delusional" even while being first in line at her art galleries). Dick and Indi might never have found each other – and now they were planning her upcoming tour together, Dick already committed to joining her on the road.

Your eyes drifted to Bruce and your mom, who had been suspiciously meeting for lunch lately. They thought they were being subtle, dodging questions with practiced ease, but you and your sisters had your theories. The way they gravitated toward each other, sharing private smiles over coffee cups, hadn't gone unnoticed.

And now Jason and Scarlet. Your phone buzzed again:

From: Scarlet

Message: Is the coast clear yet? Did Indi go full protective mode?

Message: Also please tell me you didn't mention the poetry he writes me 

To: Scarlet

Message: HE WRITES YOU POETRY?! 

Message: This keeps getting better 😈

You watched as Jason's phone buzzed, and his eyes widened slightly – no doubt getting a warning message from Scarlet about the poetry revelation.

Eventually, Indi returned, her expression softer but no less intense. She pulled Jason aside for what appeared to be both an apology and a series of creative threats about what would happen if he hurt her sister or nephew. From your angle, you could see Jason's expression shift from wary to respectful – recognizing and appreciating the fierce protection of family.

Your phone buzzed one final time:

From: Scarlet

Message: For what it's worth... he makes us really happy. Both of us.

Message: And Harkin adores him. Says he's cooler than Spider-Man now

Message: Just... don't let Indi scare him off? Please?

"How's Kori, Babs?" You looked over at Barbara who smiled warmly at the mention of her girlfriend. The way her whole face lit up never failed to make you happy – especially after everything they'd been through to get where they are now.

"She's doing good," Barbara's eyes sparkled with affection. "Actually, she's presenting at the National Astronomy Conference next week. She's been practicing her speech for days – keeps worrying her English isn't 'sufficiently academic.'" The air quotes made you chuckle.

"As if anyone could question her credentials," Dick chimed in from where he sat with Indi. "She literally navigates by starlight."

"Tell her I still want those space cookies she promised," Jason called out, then immediately looked like he regretted drawing attention to himself as Indi's protective gaze snapped back to him.

"Space... cookies?" your mom asked, looking both intrigued and slightly concerned.

"They're these amazing cookies Kori makes using a Tamaranean recipe," Tim explained. "They literally sparkle and somehow taste like stardust – if stardust was delicious."

"And completely safe for human consumption," Barbara added quickly, seeing your mom's expression. "Alfred helped her adapt the recipe."

"Indeed," Alfred confirmed from the kitchen. "Though I must say, some of the substitutions were quite... creative. Earth cinnamon is apparently a reasonable alternative to pulverized meteor dust."

"Scarlet's been trying to convince her to let us sell them at the shop," Jason mentioned, then immediately looked like he wished he could take the words back as everyone's attention returned to the revelation of his relationship.

"You've been hanging out at the shop?" Petal's eyes narrowed. "Is that why there've been fresh flowers in the Manor greenhouse?"

Jason's slight blush was all the confirmation needed.

"Kori's been teaching Jason the language of flowers," Barbara supplied helpfully, earning a betrayed look from Jason. "What? Kori told me. She thinks it's romantic."

"The fearsome Red Hood, learning Victorian flower meanings," Dick grinned. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"Shut it, Grayson," Jason growled, but there was no real heat in it. "At least I don't write songs about Indi's eyes in the middle of patrol."

Now it was Dick's turn to blush as Indi turned to him with delighted surprise. "You write songs about my eyes?"

"I... that was supposed to be private, Jay," Dick muttered, but he was smiling as Indi pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Your phone buzzed again:

From: Scarlet  

Message: JASON KNOWS FLOWER LANGUAGES NOW?! 

Message: Is that why my latest bouquets have been so specific??

Message: Tell him if the red carnations meant what I think they meant, then yes 🥰

To: Scarlet  

Message: You two are disgustingly cute. I'm telling Indi.

From: Scarlet  

Message: DON'T YOU DARE

Message: ...but also maybe tell her he's learning it properly? She always said a guy should know what he's saying with flowers...

"Scarlet says yes, by the way," you told Jason quietly, watching his face soften in a way you'd never seen before. "To whatever the red carnations meant."

The smile that spread across his face was enough to make even Indi's protective stance relax slightly.

"What did they mean?" Petal asked innocently.

"None of your business, Rosebud," Jason replied, but his voice was gentle.

"'My heart aches for you,'" your mom supplied casually, not looking up from her phone. When everyone stared at her, she shrugged. "What? I dated a florist in college. Some things stick with you."

You looked up at your expanding, complicated, beautiful family. Tim caught your eye and smiled, somehow knowing exactly what you were thinking.

"Pretty amazing, isn't it?" he murmured, just for you.

"Yeah," you agreed, watching as Alfred began distributing fresh cups of tea, as Bruce helped your mom with something on her phone, as Damian and Petal bent their heads together over her sketchbook, as Dick pulled Indi into a comforting embrace, as Jason typed what was probably a very apologetic message to Scarlet. "Pretty amazing.”

.

.

.

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[on-my-vigilante-sht]

"You're Okay"

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: After Aaron and his agent are saved from captivity, she grapples with returning to her regular life with her husband when the only person she wants to be around is Aaron.

Warning: no use of y/n, traumatized!reader, angst, heavily implied SA, kidnapping, probably psychological torture, panic attacks, emotional infidelity,

Word Count: 3.8K

Masterlist

As the plane fell still and the engines died down, a new sound emerged. Cheering. I couldn’t see outside thanks to all the windows being shut per my request but that didn't prevent the fact that I was being forced into a pap walk by the Director of the FBI. I looked down at my lap finding shaking fingers that were only stilled by clasping my hands together.

I could feel the rest of my team look at me, pitying me, afraid to upset me. I tried to force myself up off my seat but I just couldn’t. The idea of being put on display, of being heralded as strong, made me sick.

I only looked up from my lap when a figure appeared by my side. Looking up, I found JJ giving me that pitying look I knew would linger on everyone else’s face out there. “I know you don’t want to but we have to go out.”

I nodded, convinced if I opened my mouth I’d puke. With trembling hands I grasped the armrests beside me, using them to stand up. I looked at my entire team for the first time since I was rescued finding them looking at me with those sad looks in their eyes. All of them except my boss, Aaron, whose expression held stern reassurance as he nodded at me. I returned it, stepping into the aisle and towards the now opened plane door.

I didn’t remember the shaky steps until I was suddenly confronted by blinding light as I emerged outside onto the platform of the air stair. I couldn’t tell if I had caused it or if it was just being outside but I swear the cheers grew louder. But they didn’t make me feel good, rather, I felt like a fraud undeserving of their applause.

The cheers grew somehow louder as my fellow prisoner emerged onto the platform with me. My inclination to pass out was subsided my Aaron Hotchner’s mere presence. He had been my rock, my comfort, my everything when we had been held by a group of unsubs.

Still, I could not find it in me to make my way down the steps until I felt the lightest trace of his comforting fingers on my arm. A little bit more grounded and taking his cue, I hesitantly moved one step forward, pausing just before the first stair. Hotch must have noticed my hesitant unsteadiness because his arm slotted under mine as he urged me forward.

The closer and closer we got to the ground the more I felt like I was going to pass out but Hotch’s grasp kept me anchored until we finally reached the bottom. His grasp lingered as I was first greeted by the Director of the FBI. Truthfully I never wanted him to let go but he did. After shaking the director’s hand he ceased contact with me as the next person I was greeted with was my husband.

I had hardly even met his gaze before he was slamming into me, pulling me into his embrace. As he clutched me I wanted nothing more than to be let go. My tenure in the hands of now dead men flashed in my mind as I tried not to give away my panic. I wanted to break down sobbing and beg him to let me go but I just kept repeating a mantra in my head I had prepared. This is James. James is your husband. He won’t hurt you. I could hear the cameras flashing, capturing what was supposed to be the new V-J Day in Times Square photo. I wasn’t sure what exactly they were capturing but the small part of me that wrote that mantra for these moments hoped I didn’t look too panicked.

I was only saved from my oncoming panic attack by Aaron’s voice. “James,” he greeted my husband who fortunately let go.

“Aaron,” he returned. Whilst his crushing grip on me was released, he maintained a hand on my back that may as well have been a collar. He went to go shake his hand but was interrupted by a cry from behind.

“Daddy!” came the sweet voice of Jack as he dashed from the larger crowd before us.

Aaron’s attention was immediately diverted from my husband to his son as he stooped down. Jack launched himself into his father’s arms as Aaron stood, lifting him from the ground and holding him tight, as if he were the most precious thing in the world. Which he no doubt was. When Aaron wasn’t comforting me, I was comforting him about his son.

The cameras flashed wildly and I knew that they would be the featured photo. Seeing Aaron hold his son was to see a true expression of love, one that couldn’t be captured with James and I.

By now the rest of the team had descended onto solid ground. I should have felt comforted by their presence like I was when it was just us on the plane. But I couldn’t shake the feeling I got from James’ icy grip, keeping me firmly cemented in his presence.

After a moment of waving to the cameras, he finally began steering us to one of the awaiting SUVs parked on the tarmac. But as we walked past the crowd, I could hear the reporter speaking to the camera positioned to capture us as well.

“And there you have it. After nearly a month of being held captive by a group of serial kidnappers and murderers, the two FBI agents are reunited with their families. One can only imagine the horrors…”

I was never more grateful for a car door to shut then in that moment. The idea of being made to relive it through everyone’s speculation made me want to be swallowed up into the earth. Never to be heard from or thought of or speculated about again.

As James slid into his seat on the other side of the car, intertwining his fingers with mine, I somehow never felt more alone. Like a part of me was missing. I knew exactly where that part was: in another SUV with his son and former sister-in-law, probably feeling like he was whole again.

~

Looking away from the Director, Aaron found his subordinate, his confidant, the woman who, for a moment there, was his everything in captivity. But she was in the arms of her husband, her high school sweetheart, who she had been through nearly everything with.

He hated that he wanted nothing more than to rip them apart from one another. After everything that had happened, some selfish part of him thought that he might be the only man she felt comfortable being touched by. He knew it was selfish, but the idea of just abandoning their closeness from them was unbearable to him. It was like some twisted version of Stockholm syndrome, where he needed his fellow prisoner to survive.

“James,” the name left his mouth before he could think. The bureaucrat looked at him, unwrapping from his wife and extending a hand to shake. Aaron moved to return it when a voice he missed more than anything emerged from the crowd.

“Daddy!” his son’s voice cut through the sounds of the tarmac.

Immediately pulling his attention from the man in front of him, he found his son’s blond hair glinting in the son as he ran towards him. The suit that the Director no doubt orchestrated for him to wear looked ridiculous flapping in the wind as he ran. But Aaron didn’t care, no one cared as they observed father and son reunite, each of them only having each other.

As his son fell into his arms, the ache and longing Aaron had previously felt disappeared as he held his son for the first time in over a month. He could hear the cameras flashing and the applause from the crowd but he couldn’t have cared less. He had his son back and that’s all that mattered.

A soft hand on his back reminded him of where he was. Looking up from Jack, he found Jessica looking at him with a smile, tears of joy pricking her eyes. “Welcome home.”

Still holding his son, Aaron nodded. “Thank you. For everything.” He truly could not thank her enough. He turned to find the woman he had spent the last month protecting, intent to bring her into his own reunion but she was gone, and with her disappearance went his sense of wholeness. Looking further down the tarmac, he found her already in front of an SUV, her husband’s arm around her as he opened the door, letting her in before cutting her off from the rest of the world. Unwilling to show or feel his disappointment, he just held Jack tighter, heading to his own awaiting SUV.

As they approached the vehicle, he could hear the words of a reporter. “While the FBI has yet to speak in detail about what occurred, it is widely speculated that Agent Shaw was assaulted in captivity. Her husband, James Shaw, is expected-”

The reporter’s voice was silenced by the car door shutting, much to Aaron’s relief. Looking across the front seats of the car, through the windshield he could see the car that held his agent and her husband. No doubt she was relieved to be with him again, to feel safe and be able to trust another man again. He felt… ungrateful and dirty longing for someone when he had been reunited with the person he cherished most in the world. All of his attention should be on his son and not the married woman in the car in front of him.

~

“We’re home,” James said softly as he opened the door to our home. Walking in should have been a breath of fresh air. I should have finally been able to relax but I couldn’t. I couldn’t decide why but somehow this place felt haunted.

Turning, I looked at James’ hopeful face. I could tell he had sensed something was off during the very tense drive. And that all his hopes were riding on me going back to normal once we got home. I forced a smile, walking further into the house.

Walking through the foyer and past the living room I expected to find it a mess of scattered things and discarded plates but it was actually quite tidy. Continuing to the kitchen I expected at least the sink to overflowing but it wasn’t. Pausing in the room, my eyes fell to the backyard. In the time I had been away the color of autumn was gone. Before I left the leaves were still green, with just a few beginning to yellow. But now, they all laid in a dead brown mess on the grass, leaving bare branches, only illuminated by the cold white lights coming from our back porch.

As I heard footsteps enter behind me, I instinctively turned, pressing my back into the counter. As James came into view, I expected relief to come but it never did. It’s just James. James is your husband. He won’t hurt you, played in my mind.

He smiled as he looked at me, holding his arms wide, gesturing to the kitchen. “See?” he began proudly. “You always say I can never keep the house clean. But look!”

I forced a smile, trying to look pleased. I studied behavior extensively, I was a good actress for it. I knew I should observe all of his “hard work” like an adoring wife, it’s what he was waiting for. But I just couldn’t take my eyes off of him, waiting for any sign that he would advance. No, I reprimanded myself. This is James. James is your husband. He won’t hurt you. “It’s great,” was all I managed to muster.

With an even wider grin, he approached me. It took all of my self control to not stiffen further as he gently rested his hands on my hips, slotting his face against mine so our noses brushed, our lips hardly a centimeter apart. This is James. James is your husband. He won’t hurt you.

“I’ve missed you,” he breathed, finally connecting our lips.

At the somewhat forced intimacy I wanted to cry. All of my self defense instincts kicked in but I pushed them down, willing myself to not push him away. But after a moment or so of feeling my stiff lack of reciprocity, he pulled away, a concerned furrow in his brow.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” I lied. “Just tired. I think I want to go to bed,” I claimed, trying to subtly slip out from in between him and the counter, trying to escape the feeling of being trapped.

I could see the flash of hurt cross his face as he nodded. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be up soon.” I just nodded, quickly heading upstairs, desperate to escape his disappointment.

As I entered our bedroom I immediately went to the ensuite bathroom. Splashing cold water on my face in an attempt to return myself to earth, I immediately regretted it as I looked in the mirror. The water had removed the cheap makeup the bureau had provided for me, removing the coverage and the layer of protection it had provided me. Now, I stared at the dark circles, bruised cheekbones, and bruised neck that seemed to accentuate the hollow look in my eye.

I found myself just staring at the image in front of me, trying to make sense of it for god knows how long when i was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Darling? Are you okay?” James’ concerned voice reverberated through the door.

“I’m fine,” I called. “Be out in a minute.” I tried to calm myself down for another several moments before deciding that it would only cause unnecessary questions if I showed him the marks on me. After a quick application of my makeup, careful to make it look as if I weren’t wearing anything, I emerged from the bathroom.

I paused in the doorway, finding James sat on the bed, stripped down to only his boxers. He turned his gaze from the tv, sending me a soft smile. I just halted seeing himself in his undressed state. “Erm, bathroom’s yours if you want it,” I said, heading over to my dresser to find more comfortable clothes for bed.

“I’m alright,” he said.

I just nodded, quickly grabbing the first set of clothing I could find. Clutching them, I moved to head back into the bathroom but was interrupted by James’ soft laugh. It was not mocking or even all that humorous, more so just a soft release of tension. “Where are you going? You can change in front of me.”

A weight was added to my heart as I looked between him and the clothes. “I-I know. I just…” the words died on my tongue as I found myself at a loss for an explanation without telling him what was bothering me. That I didn’t want him to see the scratches and bruises that littered my body. That I didn’t want him or any other man to look at my body ever again. That the only person I could feel remotely comfortable naked with was my boss.

So I just disappeared into the bathroom, no doubt leaving him with more disappointment and questions. I didn’t even bother looking at myself in the mirror this time, knowing I’d burst into tears looking at the marks on my body, ruining the makeup I had just put on.

As I exited the bathroom, I immediately got under the covers and turned my bedside lamp off, hardly even looking at my husband in the process. I didn’t hear a sigh behind me but I could practically sense it as he turned off the light and the tv as well, slumping under the covers.

“I love you,” came his soft voice, turned away from me despite my knowing that he wanted to face me.

“I love you too,” I returned, although I doubt my voice was convincing.

~

We were trapped in a motherfucking metal box of a room. No windows, no weaknesses, no way out. The only remote chance of freedom was a metal reinforced door that looked more like the hatch to a bank safe than a door.

Looking down at my feet, I found Aaron’s loafer enclosed toes a mere inch from mine. My gaze drifted up, finding my boss’ gaze as he stared contemplatively at the ground.

We had been sitting in silence for the better part of an hour, having already exhausted out strategies for escape. “Listen,” he hesitantly broke the silence. “You and I both know the profile. Their female victims were…” the words died in his throat, unwilling to even utter the possibility of that kind of an assault on his subordinate.

“I know,” I interrupted, my head hitting the wall. “I know.”

“I’m gonna protect you as best as I can,” he swore, moving from his wall to sit next to me.

I wanted to tell him no, to think of protecting himself, to tell him not to antagonize our captors while we were unarmed. But instead, I found myself crumbling. I leaned against him, tears slipping down my face as I remembered all the horrid things they did to the poor girls who had been in this room before me. His arm wrapped around me pulling me to him so I was crying into his shoulder rather than being as strong as I thought I was.

He wrapped both arms around me as if they alone could protect me from whatever would walk through that door, pulling me closer so I was practically in his lap. “No matter what happens, you’re gonna be okay,” he tried to assure me. “No matter what they do, don’t let them break you. We’ll get out of here, the team will find us.”

After who knows how long of crying, the door finally opened. Aaron let go of me in order to stand. He stood in front of me as four masked men entered the room. They didn’t say a word as three advanced. Aaron moved into a fighting position but he was no match for three of them. Two quickly subdued him as one grabbed at me. I screamed as he got his arms around me, dragging me from the corner and towards the door. “Aaron!” I heard myself scream.

“Aaron!” I cried. I blinked, finding only darkness for a moment before I managed to see outlines.

But beside me, I sensed James. He sat up with me, quickly turning on the lamp and momentarily blinding me. “It’s okay,” he was quick to assure.

As my mind caught up, I found my breath becoming more shallow and tears welling up in my eyes. As I desperately tried to suck in a sustaining breath, James tried to comfort me.

“Shh,” he hushed, his hand falling onto my shoulder. “You’re alright,” he dismissed, already turning to turn the lamp off. As he laid down again, his hand found my shoulder again as he tried to ease me down. I knew his touch was meant to be comforting but it just felt dismissive.

Reluctantly I settled down as best I could, focusing on being able to breathe. But after several moments of short breath, I did the only thing I could think of. Grabbing my phone, I headed downstairs. Already sifting through my contacts, I found what I was looking for as I slipped on my shoes.

“Hello?” came a tired voice after only the first ring.

“Hey,” I began, my voice cracking immediately as tears welled in my eyes.

“Hey,” his voice returned, sounding more alert with a touch of concern. “Is everything okay?” he asked.

“No,” I admitted. “Can I come over? James is asleep.” Sobs now openly shook my voice.

“Of course,” Aaron’s voice became increasingly steadier. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come over?”

“No,” I refused, already heading towards the garage. “I’ll uh, see you in fifteen.”

“Okay,” his voice came. “Be safe.”

“I will,” I agreed.

Throwing the car in reverse, I backed out of the driveway into the empty street. The entire drive to Aaron’s was a blur as I raced through the streets the best my hazy vision would let me. Until I finally pulled up to the Hotchner house, finding the porch light and living room light on. By the time I got out of the car, Aaron was already standing in the doorway on the porch waiting for me.

Without even stopping to lock the car I ran towards my boss. I didn’t care if it looked ridiculous, I threw myself into his arms to which he gladly welcomed me. Immediately sobs shook me as I broke down in his comfortable embrace.

“Let’s go inside,” he murmured softly as he led me gently. I walked with him long enough for the both of us to settle on the couch. “What happened?” he asked.

I sniffled, trying to pull myself together. “I had a dream about when we were there and…” Sobs choked me. “And James… I- he… he just doesn’t get it. He’s trying to be there for me in the way he knows how but… he doesn’t even know I’m here right now. But I have this mantra to remind me that he won’t hurt me but honestly…”

Aaron leaned closer, his eyebrow quirked. “What?” he asked.

I looked at him and for the first time since being apart from him I didn’t feel the need to pull away from another person. “The only person I feel comfortable around it you,” I confessed.

Aaron nodded, unsure of how to react. He couldn’t smile, rejoicing in another man’s loss aside, he wasn’t in a place to smile. But the knowledge that the woman in front of him only felt a sense of calm and security with him brought him a strange sense of satisfaction that he felt guilty for. So doing the only thing that seemed right to the both of him, he just wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he assured. “I’m here for you

Masterlist

A/N This was kind of an abstract idea that popped into my head so if it was shit I'm sorry!

[catboymettaton]

heaven is a place on earth 💖🍓

Misa and Matsuda friendship, 3.5k words, rated T. read on ao3 Valentine's Day 2011: Misa jumps from a building, hoping to reunite with Light. And then wakes up, still alive.

Tokyo looks so small from up here. Misa reaches out a gloved hand, traces the line of the street below. Cars honking, people scurrying, everyone in such a rush to go somewhere, to do something.

Misa is in no such hurry. 

A man below is carrying flowers, so many they spill out of his arms. Another man has just emerged from a chocolate shop, bursting bag in tow. Women giggle as they pass by.

It is Misa’s second Valentine’s Day alone. It will also be her last. 

She still can’t understand what the men kept saying. Light, her Light, couldn’t possibly be a killer. He loved her. He loved her so much. He would never lie to her, he would never put her in danger, he would never do anything to harm her. Light loved her. 

And she still loves his ghost. 

Perhaps, by the end of the day, she won’t be alone any longer. 

She hikes her skirt up and clambers over the barrier. Her dress is awkward and makes it hard to move but that doesn’t matter because it makes her pretty. Misa is pretty. Light always told her that. It was okay when he was too busy to touch her, because he made sure she knew she was still pretty. 

She’s wearing her contacts today. It’s the first time in a while, since she quit acting to be with him. He never even had the chance to give her a ring. 

She touches her cross necklace. She’s never believed in that god, especially not since learning Shinigami were real. But she hopes all the same that heaven is just how it’s described in the books. 

Misa is hungry, she realizes. She doesn’t know when she last ate. But it doesn’t matter, because heaven or not, soon her body will no longer need to be fed.

She’s craving apples.

She’s drawing this out too long. If it were Light up here, he’d have a grand speech to make for the world. He’d go out beautifully and gracefully and powerfully. 

She declined to see the photographs. Couldn’t stand the thought of seeing her beloved all torn and bloody. Better to imagine him dignified and elegant, all poised on a crucifix.

The sun is beginning to dip below the horizon. It’s time.

Misa realizes, now, that she never planned her last words. Not that it matters, since no one will be close enough to hear. But with another moment’s thought, it becomes obvious.

She shuts her eyes. “I love you, Light.”

And she jumps.

…

Everything hurts and everything is bright and everything is so, so loud. This can’t be heaven at all. 

Under the aches, she feels her heart beating away. Her chest rises and falls, with spikes of pain on every inhale. There’s no doubt about it: somehow, she’s alive. 

I’m sorry, Light.

Her vision is blurred with pain, but she can make out machines beeping next to her. There’s tubes in her arm, and a tube down her throat, and maybe if she can knock one machine out of place then everything will go quiet and dark again, the way it’s supposed to be.

She reaches forward and the pain jolts all the way up her arm. She lets out a scream.

A nurse is there. “Oh, Miss Amane, you’re finally awake! I’m so glad to see you’ve pulled through. Here, let me help you with that pain.”

She reaches for a button. Misa wants to cry out, to beg her to end this, but she finds herself unable to speak.

The nurse pauses. “We were trying to find your next of kin, but we couldn’t locate any living relatives in the country. Is there a friend you’d like us to call?”

A name slips from her lips. It’s not a name she expected, or one she would have thought of if it weren’t for the drugs, surely.

“Touta Matsuda.”

The painkillers carry her away once more.

…

The next time she comes to, he’s hovering just inches from her face. She yelps in shock and then again in pain.

“I’m sorry, Misa-Misa! I didn’t mean to scare you! I just wanted to make sure you were still breathing, is all!”

Misa shuts her eyes. “Matsu… you came.”

“Of course I came! I was so worried when I saw the caller ID… I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Everything hurts,” she slurs.

“The nurses said it was a pretty nasty fall. You’re lucky you made it.”

“Lucky, huh…”

He places his hand over hers, gently, trying his best not to hurt her. 

Light and Ryuzaki always called him an idiot. Called him the stupid one. But somehow, he seemed to know what to do when no one else did. 

And he’s made it longer than both of them, hasn’t he?

“Misa.” His tone is serious this time. “Misa, when you get out of here, will you come home with me?”

Her eyes shoot open. “Um, you’re way too old for me and I-”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant at all!” He looks ashamed. “I just - I don’t want you to be alone, okay? They told me you don’t have any family, and with Li - I just think you must be pretty lonely now and I don’t want you to be lonely, okay?”

To not be lonely…

Misa has nearly forgotten what it was like to not be lonely. 

Even when she and Light were living together, he was so busy, and she saw so little of him, and she knows he loves her but it was still hard to not miss him and she misses him so much and she was so lonely and he was so tired after work and he barely touched her at all and he loved her. He loves her! She knows he loves her!

But. 

But she was still so lonely. Is so lonely. 

She had friends before all this, but they’ve moved on, grown up, gotten married, settled down, had kids, stopped caring about ghost stories, stopped getting dressed up all fancy just to go get groceries, stopped caring about pop stars like Misa-Misa. 

It would be nice to have a friend again.

“Okay,” she murmurs.

The nurse comes back. She sleeps again.

…

Her hospital stay is a blur. She can’t tell how long she’s been there, when one day ends and another begins. She’s fed through a tube and she pees into a bedpan, which is so yucky but she knows she can’t stand.

And Matsuda is there by her side day in and day out.

“You don’t have to stay,” she mumbles. “Go back to the police. They’ll call you when I’m all better.”

He shakes his head. “No, Misa. I - I want to know you’re okay. I need to know you’re okay.”

So he stays. 

After some time, she can sit up. They take the feeding tube out while she’s asleep and Matsuda feeds her congee, one spoonful at a time. It’s all plain and kinda gross but the doctors say she needs to be gentle with her stomach. 

Matsuda watches the nurses transfer her to a wheelchair so she can pee in a real toilet. It feels good. 

In the evenings, he brushes her hair. It’s gotten horribly knotted from all the lying around, but he does his best to tease out the knots. 

“Maybe I should just cut this all off,” Misa muses. “Would make it a lot easier for you.”

“But it’s so pretty.” He eases a comb through the back of her head.

“I’m not gonna be pretty with all these bruises anyway.” Misa thinks it over, and decides. “I want you to cut it off.”

The nurses provide scissors, and Misa’s bleach-blond crown falls to her feet. She wonders how far her roots have grown out now. She hasn’t been brunette since her parents were alive. 

She gets stronger. She’s allowed to eat eggs again, and then even some sweets.

She thinks about Ryuzaki and his cake. She can tell Matsuda does too. Neither of them brings it up.

Finally, Misa is discharged. She can walk a little, but needs crutches. Matsuda takes her home to his apartment, where he’s set up his spare room for her. The bed is lush with comfy pillows, there’s a table next to it just how she likes it. She realizes he must have remembered from Task Force Headquarters. 

Six years ago feels like a different lifetime.

…

She’s been living at his place for a week when he brings it up over breakfast.

“Misa,” he begins. “I know this is really hard to talk about. But I need to know.”

She takes a bite of her rice and nods. She already knows what’s coming.

“It was Valentine’s Day. You climbed over the railing. You were trying to die, weren’t you?”

“Yes.” She’s not upset. She feels numb to it, actually. “It was Valentine’s Day. I wanted to spend it with my Light.”

Matsuda shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“It’s just not fair,” she continues. She knows her voice is whiny and it’s not cute when a grown woman is whiny when she isn’t an idol anymore but she can’t help it. She misses him and everything hurts. “It’s not fair that he’s gone, and I’m still here, and I just wanted to see him again. I was supposed to see him again.”

“Misa. I know how you felt about Light. I know you want to believe he was good, but -”

“But he loves me! Loved me. He loved me so much. And I loved him too and I loved him so much, more than anyone else in the world so you’re wrong you can’t possibly know how I feel.”

His voice is shaking. “Misa, I loved him too.”

There are many ways to love. You can love your friends, you can love your family, you can love the color pink and pretty dresses.

But the way he said it can only mean one type of love.

She squints at him, trying to detect if this is some weird joke. “But you - but -”

“I fell in love with Light Yagami years ago. Of course I didn’t tell anyone. I don’t even think he knew. But… I trusted him. I thought he was honest, I thought he was righteous. He wasn’t scared to call Kira evil.” He takes a breath, trying to steady himself. He’s looking down at his bowl, not meeting her eyes.  

“I - I had my doubts, you know? Not about him. About Kira, I - he stopped wars. He stopped crime. And that was good, I couldn’t convince myself that it wasn’t. And he didn’t get mad at me for that, and I thought it was because he was being gentle with me. But he wasn’t.”

He looks up at her, and she can tell it hurts. “Misa, Light was a very cruel man. Even if we both loved him.”

“But he loves me! He loves me! He could never do all the things they said he did.” She’s had this conversation before, with her reflection. She’s had it many times, and it always goes the same. “I know my Light, he would never do anything to hurt other people, and he definitely wouldn’t do all that killing!”

“He confessed it all to us before he died. He thought he’d won.” He’s starting to cry now. It’s his fault for bringing it up, so she doesn’t feel bad. “His plan was to kill us all. We were the last thing in his way, that’s all he ever thought of us.” 

His voice is breaking, his words are barely coming out clearly. “I thought - I don’t know what I thought, but - I thought he cared about me, I - of course he didn’t feel the same but I thought we were friends. He was my best friend, Misa. He was my best friend.

“He was my best friend and I - I was just - I was just another pawn, I -  He - he wanted me to be his little attack dog, he wanted me to - to shoot -” He loses his composure completely here and Misa averts her eyes.

“No.” She stumbles to her feet, clutches her crutches. “No, you can’t - he couldn’t have. He wasn’t -”

She trips and he catches her. “Misa. I’m sorry.”

…

Misa looks in the mirror. Her deep brown hair has grown just enough that she can run her fingers through it.

It occurs to her that soon it’ll look like Light’s.

Her chest aches whenever she thinks of him, and she’s sure it isn’t because of her fractured ribs. 

Nothing Matsuda says makes sense, except it makes perfect sense, horrifying sense, at the same time, and she doesn’t want to believe it, she can’t believe it, except - 

There are things she can’t ignore. Pieces that don’t quite fit together.

He says Light took her memories away to keep him safe. Her memories of being Kira. He says she helped him as Kira, that she killed people.

She wants to deny it. She wants to say no, Misa-Misa is a good girl, Misa-Misa wouldn’t kill. 

But she remembers. She remembers how good it felt to see her parents’ murderer’s name and body on the news. She remembers her passion growing as Kira’s kills ramped up further and further.

Of course, she was young and dumb and she has grown up since then. Light dedicated his life to catching Kira, and nothing was more important than making Light happy, so that meant catching Kira was a good thing. She realized it was wrong to idolize a murderer, that Kira was evil, that Kira had to be stopped. She realized that killing was bad and murder wasn’t justice at all.

But Light didn’t believe any of that.

She’d restructured her mind around a total lie. Light didn’t go to America to catch Kira, he went to protect himself. 

Her memories of their overseas stay are fractured. She remembers sleeping alone in a big hotel bed. She remembers coming home from her Hollywood shoot to an empty room, not even a note. And there are stretches of time she can’t remember, which is normal because it’s been three years, except she cherished every minute she had with Light, so why can’t she remember half of their conversations? 

He had gotten colder and colder as time went on. In the beginning, they made love nearly every night, but they hadn’t slept together in three months by the end. 

He must have been too busy with Kiyomi.

He told her Kiyomi was just another part of the investigation. That the feelings weren’t real at all. 

But if he was on Kira’s side after all, then - he had lied about that. It wasn’t part of the investigation. And did he lie about the feelings? 

Did he lie about loving her?

She tries to focus on the beginning, when everything was good. Wasn’t everything good? She remembers finally leaving confinement, finally being able to rest in his arms, back where she belonged.

He had said something then, something that bothered her. What was it?

He said… he said that she wouldn’t leave him alone. But that didn’t make any sense. Why wouldn’t he want to spend time with his girlfriend? Why would he want her to leave him alone? 

She tried not to think about it. She tried to focus on after they got out, when they moved into their apartment and finally got to have a normal romance. Finally got rid of that creep Ryuzaki.

But if he really lied about wanting to catch Kira, if he really lied about all of that - 

But he told her he loved her so much. He told her he loved her all the time.

If he didn’t love her, then what was she doing these past six years? 

If he didn’t love her, then why did she jump?

…

“When did you fall in love with Light?”

She can walk with a cane now, and Matsuda takes her out to the park on weekends. He’s gone back to work, now that he trusts her to make it through eight hours alone. He doesn’t talk about it and she doesn’t ask.

He looks away from her, breathes a heavy sigh. They try not to talk about Light, but his ghost hangs heavy in the air.

“I met him as a teenager. He was brilliant for his age, but of course I saw him as a kid. During the investigation, once he took control -” His voice breaks a bit. “It - it felt so wrong, he was like a little brother, but… I saw his confidence, his competence, his brilliance. He was so damn charismatic.”

Misa knows. Misa understands completely.

“And then when we were alone in LA… he trusted me… and I trusted him too. He seemed so committed.” He swallows. “And - he was so handsome in that damn turtleneck.”

Misa nods. She also liked the turtleneck.

He sighs. “But it was all an act. All of it. He called his father a loser and a fool in the end. His father, his hero.” 

Light loved his father. Light loved his father so much. Light was devastated when he died.

“He called you an idiot.”

He’d said it to her face before too, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because he loved her.

Didn’t he love her?

He said he loved her. He told her she was cute. He told her she was a great girlfriend. He’d even asked her to quit acting to marry him. 

He was such a sweet talker. 

But had he ever really looked at her? Had he ever touched her without her reaching out first? Had he ever asked her about how her shoots were going, or taken her somewhere nice without her asking? 

He hadn’t even remembered her 25th birthday. 25 on December 25th, a big number, and he’d been too busy hunting down Kira.

Not hunting down Kira. Hunting down the people trying to stop Kira. 

Hunting down the people trying to stop him.

Would he have turned on Misa, too, if he’d lived?

She reaches for Matsuda with her free hand. His arm fits nicely in her palm. They walk together in silence a little longer. 

…

Misa’s bangs get in her face. She cuts half of them off so she looks like Matsuda. Matsuda puts his hair up in tiny pigtails. 

Misa swims in Matsuda’s suit jacket. Matsuda’s shoulders strain against Misa’s shirt.

They look at each other like clowns in a funhouse mirror. They touch their palms together.

In each other, they see that cursed love for Light Yagami.

They change back. Misa shaves that side of her head.

Somehow, life goes on.

…

On Valentine’s Day in 2012, Misa bakes a cake.

Matsuda offered to take the day off, in case it was too hard, but Misa insisted she was fine, and she is. And she wanted to surprise him.

Misa is an awful cook. She always has been, and she’s accepted that she always will be. But baking seems straightforward. If she reads carefully, measures slowly, everything will be okay.

It’s messy. She spills flour all over the counter. She has to start over when she puts in too much salt. She hopes Matsuda didn’t need all that sugar.

She’s never going to act again. She can walk mostly fine, but she can’t run or jump or push herself too hard. She’ll never model again, with the scars that haven’t quite healed. 

She’s gotten into writing ghost stories. She posts them anonymously. Her blog isn’t popular, but that’s okay. It gives her something to do. 

Matsuda is nice to her. He seems to care about her in a way that Light never did. They aren’t in love, not romantically, but they fit together well. He reads her blog and he likes her stories. He thanks her when she cleans the house. And he remembered her birthday, and took her to a Christmas market so she could pick out her own gift. 

She stirs the batter. She realizes she forgot to preheat the oven and rushes to set it. Matsuda says preheating is very important. 

She thinks about how small the city looked. She thinks about her last fleeting thoughts of heaven. She touches her cross necklace; that’s one thing that hasn’t changed. The dress was wrecked, but that’s okay. She’s okay.

Maybe she was looking for heaven in the wrong place. Maybe heaven doesn’t come after death. Maybe heaven is now, in this little kitchen, where she’s still breathing and her heart is still beating. 

When Matsuda comes home, she’s just finished icing the cake. It’s bright pink for the holiday (and because it’s Misa’s favorite). She cuts them each a slice even though they haven’t had dinner yet. 

She got it just right. It’s the best strawberry cake she’s ever had.

[yrsonpurpose]

jane & guildford + soft touches

[nezuscribe]

arguing with arranged!gojo is difficult because he’s not used to arguing with women and you’re not used to arguing period.

it rarely happens, but when it does it gets really heated between the two of you. you pace around your room, huffing as gojo stands there with his arms crossed, nose flaring.

like that one time he found out that one of the new guards the brought in from the west was somebody you used to fool around with.

yeah that was bad.

“why do you even care!” you snap at him, and he can’t find a plausible reason aside from the fact that he was purely jealous.

this guard that they’d brought in from the west, much to your shock, was somebody you used to see in the late hours of the night. you never did anything frisky, just some shared kisses here and there.

but the moment you saw him, your whole demeanor changed. and gojo could tell. it took a bit of picking and prodding (which gojo is great at) but you eventually told him the story.

and he was not excited to hear it.

“i want him gone,” he tells you and you roll your eyes, shrugging indefinitely.

“fine,” you throw your arms up, “get him out. but what about those girls? you think i don’t want them gone whenever we walk into one of those balls or those dinners? when i see the way they look at you? you think that’s easy for me?”

“it’s different,” his tone is unwavering and cold.

you scoff, shaking your head in dismay.

“what? what’s so different? that i kissed him? big deal!” you feel like you want to cry and yell and jump and scream at the same time.

because it was different. for you. because the men didn’t seem to care that gojo had a new wife, or that he cared for her. but the ladies did. they gossiped in frenzied tones, batted their eyelashes at him even more as if that could cast him away from your spell.

so you didn’t know why he cared so much about this one man. why it should matter to him when he’s had far, far more experiences than you.

you felt hurt that he doubted you, angered with his hypocrisy, and tired from spending the entire day ignoring each other.

“this is going nowhere,” you mutter eventually, picking up your pillow as his eyes drop to your hands, “i’m sleeping somewhere else.”

“what-”

“and don’t follow me,” you bite out, not even glancing behind your shoulder as you begin to sulk out of your shared bedroom to your old one all across the estate.

and sure, maybe you’re not being entirely fair. there’s been some petty arguments when he bumps into one of his old girls, but it didn’t hurt nonetheless when he accused you of lying, when the conversation of your old romantic life was just never brought up.

you wipe at the stray tears on your cheek as you slug down the stairs, sniffling to yourself as you curse your husband to hell and back, when a force unlike any other picks you up from behind.

“what?” you squeal, your body manicured over a strong shoulder, your legs near his torso, your eyes facing his back as you kick at him, “let me go, i’m going to fall!”

“don’t make me laugh,” gojo murmured, one strong arm around your waist, the other around your thighs as he hauls you back up the stairs.

“i told you not to follow me,” you grumble, pinching his back but he doesn’t react.

“you’re funny if you think i’ll let you sleep alone.”

your brows furrow, feeling the need to kick him, but also not wanting him to drop you.

it doesn’t take long for him to reach your bedroom, opening the door with his free hand (unbridled strength if the greatest warrior of the north meant he could pick you up with just one hand) and plops you back on the mattress.

you prop yourself up on your elbows, looking away, hoping he can’t see the tear marks.

because it did hurt. his words hurt you. they cut deep. and he notices, his gaze softening slightly.

“don’t cry,” he whispers, leaning down to trace your tears away but you swat his hand off of your face.

“then don’t make me cry,” you say with a heavy sigh, siting upwards, back slightly hunched.

you take a deep breath, rubbing at your eyes as you glance upwards at him. it’s been a while since the two of you had fought, and the first time over something serious, and he looks awful.

“i don’t judge you for being with those girls,” you start with a heavy whisper, “you did what you could to stay sane. but don’t judge me for doing the same.”

gojo breathes deeply through his nose, blinking.

“you’re right,” he says after a heavy second, causing you too look up in confusion.

he nods again, his big hand cup your jaw, his thumb rubbing your cheek as he catches the stray tear from the corner of your eye.

“you’re right and i’m sorry,” he repeats, and you’ve never had somebody agree with you before, “i just…saw the way he looks at you and…i didn’t like it.”

you offer him a small nod.

“but he just looked at me,” you shift so that your resting on your haunches, hands in your lap. he towers over you, one hand going to cradle the back of your head.

gojo shrugs, like he can’t put it into comprehensible words how he felt when that guard looked at you with hunger in his eyes. how only he was allowed to look at you with such starvation.

“i didn’t like it,” he can only repeat, and you know he struggles with his emotions, spent years hiding them so that they wouldn’t become his weakness.

“do you want to sleep?” he finally asks you, and you slowly blink, trying to hide the tiredness from your face.

“i’ll still be here when you wake up,” he offers and you crack a small smile, trying to hide it from him.

but your smile drops as you think, eyes darting up to his.

“it’s okay to not like something, and it’s okay to feel angry that you don’t. but don’t ever, ever, make me feel like that again because of it.”

your stare is unwavering, and he feels a certain sense of pride in seeing that. and gojo nods, one steady movement as he drops down to his knees, trying to be level with your gaze.

“you have my full authority to strike me down if i do,” he promises, his hands cupping your face, his words serious but you can’t help but giggle.

“good,” you murmur, tugging slightly harshly on some of the strands of his hair as he winces, pushing you back onto the bed with the sheer force of his body, climbing up into you as he hold you close to him.

you let out another laugh as he acts like a bear cub, not wanting to move an inch away from your warmth as he cuddles into you, trying to finish his massive size compared to you.

the two of you laid in silence, a comfortable one, as he laid his head in your chest, hearing the steady rhythm of your heart.

“i am sorry,” he whispers, craning his neck to look up at you as he rests his chin on your sternum, “i’m sorry.” he says again, his words barely above a sound.

you blink again, moving some of the hair away from his face as you observe his sorrowful features.

“i know,” you whisper back.

gojo finds your hands, interweaving your fingers together, heart tugging when he feels your ring against his skin.

he brings the finger to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against the ring as you watch him silently. no other words needed to be said, no words left unspoken as he pulls you into his chest.

because no woman would amount to a sliver of you. and no man would amount to a morsel of him.

[ddejavvu]

Could you do a criminal minds x reader where reader is viewed as super sweet and dresses brighter and stuff like Penelope but one day they have to come in like super late/by surprise so everyone is in their normal clothes and the bau sees that reader has a big ass, super cool tattoo? And they’re all surprised and stuff

You're looking less-than professional in your backless halter top when you take your seat at the round table, but no one bats an eye until you stand from the chair to leave. Hotch's call of 'Wheels up in 20' means that the room clears as everyone hunts for their gobags, and the second you turn your back to your coworkers a litany of reactions fill the space.

Of course, the most dramatic is from Garcia, but you hear enough to count all of your coworkers, except one. Hotch's brows are raised when you turn back to see them, though - apparently he's not above being startled.

"Woah, hot stuff," Prentiss calls, a grin spreading over her face, "You've got some nice ink back there!"

"I didn't know you had tattoos," JJ muses, staring at you with curious amusement like she's recalculating your image in her mind, "That's really intricate. I like it."

"Oh, it's-" You reach a hand up to stroke awkwardly over the inked skin, "I kind of forgot you'd never seen it before."

"Turn around again!" Garcia gushes, "I wanna look at it."

You spin on command, and Hotch and Rossi are kind enough not to gawp with the others, passing you on their way to the door.

"You've got guts, kid," Rossi grimaces, "I've been in a lot of pain before, but I don't know if I'd willingly sit there for all of that."

"I wouldn't," Hotch shakes his head with a good-natured smile, "Haley and I got small, matching ones in college, and I had a hard time with that one."

"Is that based off of Norse mythology?" Spencer pokes his head around your shoulder to stare bright-eyed at you, "Some of the symbols remind me of-"

"It's just a sick-ass tattoo, Reid." Morgan shoves at his shoulder. peering avidly at the art, "Don't ruin this for everyone."

Reid takes the shove like a champion, smiling kindly, albeit awkwardly at you as he moves for the door himself, "I like it."

"Thanks, Reid," You call, flinching slightly as a hand traces one of the symbols on your back.

"Ooh! Sorry, pumpkin," Garcia calls, the hand drawn away in a flash, "I got too grabby. I just think it's really cool," she takes your hand, leading you towards the door while the others follow to continue staring at your tattoo, "I'd show you my own body art, but it's not really in a spot that I can display in the workplace."

"Well this I've gotta see," Morgan teases, "Let's all huddle in the bathroom on the jet, babygirl, and see what you're hiding."

"It is not for your eyes, Derek Morgan," She huffs, though she's grinning at his attempt. The look in her eyes suggests that the tattoo is not for his eyes because it's something to do with him, and you're eager to giggle over whatever part of her body she's tatted 'babygirl' over later.

For now, though, you rifle through your gobag and shrug on a cardigan, effectively covering your back and its ink.

"It is a crying shame to cover up that artwork," Prentiss laments, "I bet it looks awesome peeking over tank tops."

"You'll see it again at the hotel," You laugh, "I have plans to use the jacuzzi before we leave."

"A jacuzzi sounds fantastic," JJ sighs, "But let's all of us agree that Morgan isn't invited - I wanna see Garcia's tattoo."

[cherrybr4t]

DILF!SEUNGCHEOL (+18, mdni)

A/N: to the anon that requested for some dilf cheol, i love u i am u. i think about dilf cheol probably 20 times a day. wanted to write a hc but got carried away…as u can see… 2k words 💨💨💋

WARNINGS: smut, DILF CHEOLL, unprotected sex, oral (f rec), dom!cheol, sub!reader, f reader, it’s pretty mild…i think…

dilf!cheol whom you met while bringing your niece to her weekly soccer practice. you often helped to babysit her, and you loved seeing her in action — playing passionately every sundays, calling out to her aunt on the field with her adorable pigtails

dilf!cheol first noticed you on one fateful saturday practice at the stands, shades at the top of your head, pretty face with your ponytail dangling behind you

dilf!cheol comes up to you; telling you that you look younger than all the other parents here. you explain that you’re here for your niece, while he mentions his own daughter on the soccer field

dilf!cheol wastes no time, and asks you out on a date the second time yall meet during practice, as if you could say no to the most handsome man you’ve ever met in your 22 years of living…

dilf!cheol decided that a gem like you deserved the finest things in life — bringing you to his favourite restaurant, a private room he booked out specially for you, the best wine on the menu, with the most spectacular view (especially the man in front of you clad in a sleek button up, hair flawless as he combs it back every few minutes)

dilf!cheol who has his own successful company running, always mentions how his daughter is the light of his life, the one thing that kept him going after his ex-girlfriend up-ed and left after leaving pretty little sua on his doorstep. all he wants is to provide the best for his lil munchkin

dilf!cheol being a gentleman, drives you home and you invite him up for some tea, not wanting to end the night there. he agrees, though it probably wasn’t the best decision; considering how he told himself not to fuck you yet — not after a few more dates (he strongly believes he does not have the sex drive of a 20 year old) aaand he really did not trust himself to be in a room alone with you

dilf!cheol was right — feeling all his self-restraining effort go down the drain as he looks at you, sitting so damn near him on the couch, you might as well be on his lap.

you weren’t playing though. you wanted him, and you needed him immediately. your hands dancing dangerously on his thighs, leaning in closer to him whenever he made a witty comment.

fuck the water that was done boiling. you weren’t going to leave this couch to go make some tea, all you could think about was how cheol looked like he was about to lose it too.

he leans in. you lean in. “cheol…” the way you uttered his name in such a soft and slightly raspy manner made his breath hitch. he definitely caught on to the slight cry and need for him to make the move

that was all he needed, before he crashed his lips onto yours, kissing you so fucking deep, you could feel every crevice of his pretty cherry lips, drenched with the need to meet yours. his tongue — oh god his tongue, dancing with yours half way through the kiss, as if teasing you, showing you what that pink muscle of his was capable of.

dilf!cheol loved making demands. first, you were to strip out of your red dress slowly, standing in front of the couch where he sat, manspreading with his elbows propped up on the sofa. he stares, hungrily, eyes watching every movement you made to remove that article of clothing that was driving him crazy all night.

after which he demanded you to sit on his lap like a good girl — making sure you knew that he loves rewarding good girls. the dark spot on your lace panties made him chuckle. “you wanted this that bad princess? had to ask me if i wanted a cup of tea, when this was your true intention all along…” he traces his finger along your thigh as you settle down on his lap.

you let out a whine — embarrassed, but it was true. “why princess? admit it, you wanted me so bad you were willing to do anything to get us in this situation,” his fingers continued tracing to the back of your bra, unhooking it with one hand, letting the lace material fall to the ground.

“yes cheol, i wanted you so fucking bad i- , you looked so good, during dinner a-all i could think about was you fucking me right,” you moaned out, gripping on his hard shoulders, nails clutching on the fabric of his button up.

he let out a groan, “you thought about that during dinner? my dirty girl, so filthy — all for me, i made you like this didn’t I,” his hands travel to your tits, thumbs brushing on your hard nipples, before pinching both buds and pulling on them, eliciting a load shriek and moan from you.

“yes cheol, you did.. n-need you..” he latched his hot lips on your nipple, showing you once again the power of his pink muscle, licking and sucking like it was his favourite candy. it felt so fucking good you couldn’t help but cry out, grinding down on his crotch. feeling like any more attention towards your sensitive tits could make you cum sooner than expected.

“fuck princess you’re fucking soaking, i can already imagine how good that warm cunt will feel around my fingers, around my tongue..”

“and your cock cheol, need you to be inside me,”

“patience, i told you good girls get rewarded,” as if he himself could wait any longer.

he carries you to your room, laying you on your soft sheets. with no buffer time, you feel a pair of lips at your center, licking through the soaked material.

“o-oh my god, cheol,” he rips the material off you, leaving you exposed right in front of him, and he swears he’s never felt this hungry for pussy before. he licks, he inserts that tongue of his down your warm cunt, pushing the walls open, slurping every single drop of you he can. wrapping his thick lips around that sensitive nub of yours, sucking it hard enough that you cry out, arching your back as you laced your fingers through those locks of his, pushing him closer.

“so good.. so good cheol…more more..,” you were a broken record, all you could think about was chasing your high, and the man in front of you was more than happy to make that happen.

“yeah, princess? so good for me, so fucking delicious you deserve to be eaten out every day every fucking hour, goddd,” wanting to look at your pretty face as he makes you come, he rubs your sensitive engorged clit roughly in tight fast circles, while inserting two fingers without warning.

you screamed out, unable to control the unhinged moans slipping out of your lips. you felt otherwordly, as if you were ascending into a new realm with immense pleasure. “fuck, cheol oh my god oh my god,” your moans going higher in pitch when he curled his fingers, touching that textured gummy pad deep inside you, hitting it non stop.

“wanna cum princess? i know you want to, feels so fucking good doesn’t it? i know princess i know,” he spoke in an overly sweet tone, and it just made you clench around him even more. your knuckles turning white at how hard you were gripping those poor sheets.

“i wanna cum cheol, can i cum now? please please please,” your sweat blends with a drop of tear sliding down the side of your face, feeling your high literal seconds away.

cheol’s cock hurts, straining so bad against those dress pants of his. he needs to be inside you now, but he wants you to — no, needs you to come before that. “fuck, you can cum princess, let go for me,”

and you let go, spasming around his fingers, with the loudest cry of the night yet, body jerking up from the immense sensation of flood gates opening.

“yeah that’s right, princess, so good for me, so pretty when you cum, feels so good doesn’t it,” cheol swears he could cum in his pants at the sight of you coming undone, wrecked on his fingers. and he thinks to himself — it’s a sight he wants the privilege to have, every night, for the rest of his life possibly.

you came down from your high panting, looking up to see cheol in his boxers already, pulling them down, only to reveal the prettiest, girthiest cock you’ve ever seen, and all you want is for him to be in you, for him to make you his.

“i-i’m on the pill, you can go for it cheol,” you muttered out with whatever strength you had left in that moment, all you can think about was being pumped full of cheol’s cum. his heart thumps at your words. he lets out a groan, stroking his member as he gets back on top of you, and you admire how his muscle — his biceps and shoulders goes taut, god, he looked so fucking strong, you were about to cum the second time looking at him.

“ready princess? swear m’gonna fuck you til you’re full of my cum,” and he slowly inserts his full length inside of you, and you moan at the stretch his thick cock gives you.

“hnnng, so thick cheol, so big,” you moaned, nails gripping on his shoulders and he grabs both of your wrists, slamming it right above you on the pillow, holding you right there. you whined, while he spotted a smirk at the corner of his lips.

“look at you princess, so fucked out when i’ve just barely started, is my cock that good baby? hmm? you like it that much?” one hand pinning your wrists down, the other adjusting your leg above his shoulder. the angle making you feel him in places you didn’t know you could.

“this is what you wanted, right princess? fuuuck look at you, so fucking pretty all under me,” he falters; wanting to degrade and embarrass you to utter filth, but looking at you being so good under him, he can’t help but praise you, telling you how good you’re being for him.

your heart swells, pussy gripping onto him even tighter if that was even possible, “cheol…i wanna cum again, wanna cum around you,” you whine out, eliciting a deep growl from the man above you.

“i swear princess, you drive me fucking crazy,” he snaps his hips into you in an insane pace, feeling so lost in the feeling of you and your warm slippery cunt hugging his cock so good he thinks he went to heaven and back for a moment.

as he feels his release approaching, he’s in disbelief at how fast it comes, but he can’t hold it in any longer. “cum with me princess, fuck, can’t take it anymore, need to fill you up nice and full with my cum.” his moans get louder and you love how needy he sounds; not holding back, moaning your name with a crack in his voice.

with no warning, your orgasm crashes over you, arching your back, crying out cheol’s name as you spasm around him. “fuuuck baby i’m coming,” with slower thrusts, cheol leans down to give you a passionate kiss as he releases his hot load into you, it spills and shoots, so much fucking cum that it leaks out immediately and you moan at the feeling, at complete bliss being so full of his cum.

dilf!cheol giving you the best aftercare ever, you’re his and only his now, his princess and now he self declares that he’s going to take care of you like no other man could, or will!

dilf!cheol has a stamina of a teenager, going for multiple rounds throughout the night, leaving marks all over you, needing so bad to claim you as his.

yup…trust that i’m not done w dilf cheol and i’ll be back with MOREEE ✍️💋 anws i hope yall like it <33 if you did, like/comment/rb to lmk what u think abt it 😍 thanks for reading lovelies,, xoxo 😘💨💋

[rafesangelita]

rafe fingering you hard till your crying and begging him to stop but he won't until you squirt multiple times

warnings: mean!rafe, fingering, squirting, slight overstimulation, crying, begging, rafe being a lil mean

“r-rafe, please,” you mewled, pushing your head against your boyfriend’s chest. “ah, fuck- listen to that, ‘you hear how fucking wet you are?” he groaned into your ear, his fingers thrusting into you at an unforgiving speed. “s’too much!” your hand wrapped around his wrist in a poor attempt to stop him. “if you do that one more time i’m not gonna stop until you’re crying.” your thighs closed around his hand, a whimper falling from your lips as you shook in his hold.

rafe cursed, pulling his digits out of your sopping cunt in order to force your legs open. “maybe next time you’ll remember to watch that fucking mouth of yours.” his fingers plunged inside of you once more, eliciting a moan from both of you. the way his digits were curling inside of you, paired with his thumb rubbing your clit, it wasn’t long before you were seeing stars, your soaked pussy fluttering around his fingers as you fell over the edge of pure euphoria.

rafe didn’t make any effort to slow his movements down, actually doing the opposite until the wet squelches of your cunt became too much for you to handle. “wait! i think i’m-” rafe covered your mouth, a smile forming on his lips as his hand muffled your scream. you felt the wet sensation before you saw the mess, your boyfriend trailing sloppy kisses in the curve of your neck. “shhh..” rafe finally started easing you through the after shocks of your orgasm, his hand coming to a stop.

you had tears running down your cheeks at this point, your chest rising and falling with each breath. “what was it that you said to topper again? ‘take me home since rafe doesn’t want to.’” he scoffed, moving from behind you and laying you on his pillows. “how do you think that sounds, hmm? how do you think i feel when i hear my girl asking my friend to take her home?” rafe hovered above you, his wet fingertips tracing shapes on your inner thighs.

you shook your head, cupping his face as he stared down at you with the darkest gaze you’ve ever seen. “i won’t do it again, i promise. ‘just wanted to leave the party already..” rafe nodded, everything you said going in one ear and out the other. “well you got what you wanted, now you have to take it.” without warning, he inserted his fingers again, making your body jolt at the sudden intrusion. “you’re gonna give me two more.” rafe felt his cock harden at your choked sob, your hysterics only turning him on even more.

[softbabybelle]

𝜗𝜚 c!w. crybaby!reader, a little blood, swear words, soft!rafe, suggestive

it wasn't often that rafe cameron finished dealing with business early. his feet passed through the doorframe of tannyhill where he expected to find you rumaging around the house, up to no good as you always were, despite such pure intentions.

however, the sound of little sobs and whimpers left him trailing upstairs.

"sweetheart? wh's wrong?" he slowly creaked the bedroom door open. he spotted you sitting in the bed decorated with frilly pink bedsheets, your choice of course, fat globs of tears rolling down your cheeks and swollen lips, burying your face into a pillow. "hey, hey, wh's the tears for, huh?"

"'s my leg." rafe watched as you sat up on the bed, showing the little gash on your left knee, a little blood trailing down your leg. "w-was on the ladder 'n then―"

but rafe cut you off, his brows raised. "on the ladder? what were you on the ladder for, huh? you were already told about climbing stuff when 'm not home." there was a mean etch to his tone.

you could only blubber. "'m sorry, r-rafe. 'm really sorry, j-jus wanted my lights up."

rafe sighed, agitated as he leaned over to the bedside locker where a little first aid kit was hidden. it was safe to say that you were prone to accidents. "shouldn't have been climbing a fuckin' ladder when i wasn't home." he grasped your leg, despite his harsh tone, his touch was gentle. "stop cryin', sweetheart, you're fine."

you felt him wiping an antiseptic wipe across your knee, collecting the trailing blood too. "rafe that h-hurts." another few fat tears rolled down your cheeks, stuttering over your words.

"you're fine, pincess." rafe couldn't help the low guilt swimming in his stomach. he knew you were dramatic, it was in your nature and by no means did it hurt enough for you to be sat in the bed crying your pretty eyes out. but nonetheless, he rolled his eyes and helped you up into your lap.

he was still learning with you, gauging your every response to his touches and his words.

a little comfort went a long way, apparently.

you eventually did stop crying, albiet in his lap and clinging around his neck. you were still sniffling quietly and rafe couldn't help but give in.

"relax, sweetheart, you're fine now." you nodded gently against the crook of his neck. "'s over, okay? 'want no more tears from you, alright?"

you could only nod again, saying nothing.

rafe only rolled his eyes. though they instantly fell on the little lights that were sitting up on the desk. they were in the shapes of pink stars and quite frankly, they were a little ugly. but you'd been talking about these damn lights with weeks, every day you's show him your phone, glittery nails shooting out to show him the tracking of your delivery.

"i'll put up your lights." he grumbled, watching as your head rose.

"you will?" you sounded all stuffed up and snotty from crying, eyes all red and face a little blotchy.

rafe sighed, knowing he was mean but he wasn't downright evil. "mm." he grumbled again in response, seating you off his lap and onto the bed. "but you stay away from this fuckin' ladder, y'hear?"

you nod happily into the pink pillows and watch him grab the pretty lights into his hands. "thank you rafey."

he didn't respond, only turning with the lights in his hands. "turnin' my room into a damn pink zoo." he glanced sideways when you didn't respond, you were too busy staring at your knee with your eyes filled with tears all over again.

rafe wanted to roll his eyes but he opted not to.

a little soft tone went a long way, too, apparently. "your leg hurtin', baby?"

you nod, sniffling as your fingers trace the cut. it's not bleeding anymore but rafe knew you'd end up putting some strange plaster on it later anyway, designed with something pink, probably.

you watched him lean down, with your leg in his hands as he pressed a gentle kiss to your knee, eyes looking up at you. "poor girl, jus' wanted her pretty lights up, huh?"

"mhm." when rafe pitied you, you started to pity yourself too.

"my poor girl." he reached up for you, pulling you down into a soft embrace as his breath fanned your neck. "'s okay, baby, rafe'll make it all better, won't he?"

your mind went all fuzzy and your body went all warm. "uh huh." you could feel his hand trailing up past your wounded knee, beneath your skirt.

"you jus' relax, yeah?" fingers attaching to your pretty panties. "let rafe take care of you.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hey!!

could i maybe get a roommate fic where carmy’s getting ridden and about to come and has no filter so it slips out that he loves her

Baby, Please.

it’s been on the tip of his tongue for too long. it was only a matter of time.

roommate!carmen berzatto x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. carmy’s a bit pathetic at some points in this (you’re welcome)

word count - 2.4k

authors note - ah shit, here we go again. I always end writing carmy as a little bitch in these, sorry lmao (i’m not). but here it is!! a love confession!! will they ever talk about anything, I hear you ask? we’ll see…

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

series masterlist. masterlist. inbox.

Carmen automatically smiles when he hears your keys clinking against the lock in the front door.

As soon as he clocks it, he rolls his eyes at himself. You’re not supposed to get butterflies in your stomach when your roommate comes home on a random Thursday evening.

And yet here he is, sitting on the couch, trying to play it cool - as if he hasn’t been waiting for your return for the last hour and a half.

You’re usually back from work before he is, and suddenly he’s grateful for it. He couldn’t do this everyday. Sitting, waiting for you to come home as if you’ve been gone for months rather than nine or so hours. The apartment feels a little bigger, a little colder without you in it. Carmy wonders how he lived here for so long without you.

You swing the door open, kicking off your shoes instantly. Throwing your bag onto the counter, you take in the sight of your home. It’s clean, tidied, more organised than you’ve seen it in a while. Carmy’s been putting the work in while you’ve been gone.

“What happened, Carmen? Are you okay?”

“W-what?”

“Were you stress cleaning?”

He laughs, all full and warm.

“No, babe. Just regular cleaning.”

He rises from the couch, coming over to press a kiss into your cheek before slipping your jacket off your shoulders and hanging it up behind you.

“Carmen, what’s that smell?”

“Tomato and basil slow baked rigatoni. Homemade garlic bread. And then, if you have any room left… my homemade snickerdoodles.”

“Did you… cook for me?”

“Yes I did, baby. It’s the least I can do after you’ve been at work all day.”

It’s all so domestic, so thoughtful, so heartfelt, that you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. You step forward into his space, looping your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips. He grins at you when you pull away.

“What was that for?”

“A thank you,” you whisper, kissing him again. “I really won the roommate lottery, huh?”

“We both did,” he chuckles, covering your face in kisses while you squirm in his arms.

Eventually, he lets you go, but not before raking his eyes up and down your figure very slowly. He takes you in - your work clothes, the way your hair is falling out slightly, your bare feet. As much as you want to let him devour you, you’re starving. A different kind of hunger to his.

“Dinner first. That after.”

“What after?” he plays coy, trying to fight the smirk off his face.

“Don’t play dumb, Berzatto. It’s not a good look on you.”

With that, you leave the kitchen to get changed, laughing as you go.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You sink further into Carmy’s side on the couch, trying desperately to pay attention to the vintage sitcom that’s playing on the TV.

All you can focus on are the rough fingertips tracing patterns on the bare skin of your thigh. They keep getting higher, brushing the seam of your pyjama shorts occasionally. Every so often, Carmy leans in to press a kiss onto your temple, into your hair, behind your ear. You rest your head on his chest, soothed by the steady beat of his heart.

“That was the best meal I’ve had in a long time, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I could eat that pasta every day for the rest of my life and die a happy woman.”

Carmy laughs, and the sound rumbles through both of you.

“I don’t cook for you often enough.”

You sit up, then, turning in your seat to look him in the eyes.

“Carmen. You cook for me almost every day.”

“Yeah, but… not really.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Most of the time when I’m cooking at home, I’m trying a new recipe, or perfecting an old one - for the restaurant. And then we both eat it for dinner. But tonight, I actually picked a recipe I knew you’d love, and made it for you. Because I don’t cook for you often enough.”

You lean in to press a gentle kiss to his lips, smiling as you do it.

“You know I don’t mind either way, right? Whatever you make is always delicious. Except for that weird duck mousse from last week. That was… awful.”

He shoves you playfully, laughing when you topple backwards onto the couch cushions. Climbing onto you, he digs his fingers into your ribs, chuckling as you try to squirm away from him.

“Stop, before I kick you in the stomach or something,” you plead, wrapping your legs around his waist to try and keep him still.

When that doesn’t work, you resort to dirtier tactics. You roll your hips up into his, watching as his face changes when he realises what you’re doing. The tickling stops, replaced by fingertips gripping your sides in a completely different way.

“Fuck,” he murmurs into your neck as he drops his head down. “You know exactly what you’re doing. Minx.”

“Well you wouldn’t stop, so…”

“You’re usually telling me not to stop, honey. ‘Oh, Carmen, don’t stop baby, don’t stop’…”

You laugh as he mocks you, half in disbelief, half in amusement.

“You’re such a dick.”

“You still want me though, huh?”

The atmosphere in the room shifts, tension thickening in the air. Carmy’s eyes go dark as he looks down at you, gaze raking across your face. You nod in response to his question, chewing at your bottom lip.

“You gonna let me thank you for dinner properly, Berzatto?

Who is he to say no to an offer like that?

You tighten your legs around his waist and pull his hips down to yours, flipping you both over on the couch. You settle with your thighs on either side of his, your weight keeping him anchored down to the cushions.

“You look so pretty underneath me,” you whisper, tracing the features of his face with your gentle fingertips. “Pretty, pretty boy.”

Carmy’s hips buck up into yours at the praise.

“You’re so fucking predictable,” you giggle as he groans. “You love this, don’t you?”

“Love what?”

His voice is all strained and breathy already, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Being my bitch.”

He chuckles and rolls his eyes, but his tightening grip on your waist gives him away. You lean in to press your forehead to his, breathing him in for a moment. Carmy tilts his head up to meet your lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth as you whine.

You tangle your fingers into his hair, melding your lips against his. You let him explore your mouth, winding your hips down into him in a steady motion. You lean back to pull his shirt over his head, yours following suit shortly afterwards and ending up in a pile on the floor.

Carmy kisses his way across your chest, nipping and sucking as he goes. You’re way past the don’t leave marks stage. Neither of you care anymore. You rake your nails down his stomach, smirking when he shudders, goosebumps rising across his skin.

You tip forward to bite at the muscle of Carmy’s neck, licking a stripe up his throat as you go. He tastes like his minty shower gel and cinnamon sugar from the snickerdoodles. It’s the perfect combination to make your mouth water.

He tangles his fingers into the waistband of your pyjama shorts, trying to tug them down. You go to stand up to help him, but the whine he lets out stops you in your tracks.

“Don’t go anywhere.”

“Carmen, if you want my pants off, you need to let me stand up.”

“You can do it here.”

He pulls you back down into his lap, ignoring your raised eyebrows. You manage to slip your shorts and panties down one leg, rising awkwardly on the other to try and get them off. You kick them to the floor, chuckling as you settle back over Carmy’s hips.

“Happy now?”

“Very happy,” he mumbles, reattaching his lips to your jaw. “The happiest. Got the prettiest girl in the world naked in my lap right now.”

Heat rises across your chest at the compliment, head ducking down to avoid his eyes.

“Shut up,” you mutter, tugging down the waistband of Carmy’s sweatpants.

You pull them and his boxers off in one fell swoop, dropping them onto the floor. When you take him in your hand, he reaches out and grabs your wrist, looking up at you through thick lashes.

“Wait, baby.”

You freeze instantly, finally meeting his gaze.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong. Just need to get you ready first.”

You shake your head, gentle smile on your face. He’s always thinking about you. Selfless boy.

“I am more than ready, Carmen.”

When he looks at you with skepticism in his eyes, you decide to make a point.

You trail your fingers down your stomach, pulling them through your wetness when you reach it. Sliding a digit inside, you rock your hips, throwing your head back. You can both hear how ready you are, and it makes Carmy groan.

“Oh, fuck.”

He’s whispering in awe, careful not to spook you when you’re so clearly in your own little world. You add another finger, and Carmy has to grip your hips as hard as he can to stop himself from flipping you over and having his way with you.

You remove your fingers and shove them straight into Carmy’s mouth, panting as he laves his tongue around them. You both whine in unison. Always so in sync.

“I’m more than ready,” you whisper into his jaw. “Promise.”

“I believe you,” he croaks, wrecked already. “Please.”

“You’re so pretty when you beg.”

You line him up, sinking down ever so slowly. You want to feel every inch, every ridge, every movement. You don’t want to miss anything.

You both drop your heads back in bliss, chests heaving against each other. You’re adjusting, while Carmy’s trying to get a hold of himself. He doesn’t want it to be over too quickly, but it so easily could be if he isn’t careful. He runs his hands up and down the bare skin of your back, admiring how soft you are.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he says through gritted teeth. “Shit, baby.”

“You feel so good. So big, Carmen. Fuck.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you can’t help but tease, running your thumb over his bottom lip.

“Talk like that. Fuck.”

“Oh,” you laugh in fake realisation. “You like it a little too much, huh?”

He leans his head forward to rest on your chest, gasping when you lift your hips up to drop them back down. It’s all so slick, so easy. It’s like you’re made for each other, made to fit together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

You can’t help but want to push him a little further. He’s always so quietly domineering, so seemingly in control, that you love when he allows himself to fray at the edges slightly. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t get you off.

“So you don’t want me to tell you how you’re filling me up just right? That you’re so big, that you feel so fucking good? That I could sit here for hours? That I’ve never had it like this with anyone?”

Carmy’s hips buck up involuntarily, and you chuckle a little cruelly.

“Baby, please.”

“Okay, Carmen. Okay.”

You press a sugary sweet kiss to his lips before settling your hands on his broad shoulders to give yourself some stability. You set a steady rhythm, winding your hips up and gliding them back down with a clear purpose. Your knees ache, and your hips are being held open a little too wide, but you feel delirious with it, high off the pleasure. It’s good. So good.

“Shit, honey. Fuck. S’good, yeah? So good. Keep going, don’t stop.”

You’ve always found his babbling amusing, but right now there’s nothing funny about the way the sound of his voice pushes you undeniably closer and closer to the edge. You never want him to stop talking.

Carmy moves one hand from your hip to between your legs, rubbing soft but intentional circles onto your clit. It sets your nerves alight, whole body buzzing with anticipation.

You keep your rhythm going, even as it’s getting harder and harder to concentrate. You can feel that Carmy’s close, that he’s sitting on a knife’s edge waiting for you. You realise, suddenly, that you want him to come before you. You want to undo him.

You move one hand to tangle in his hair, while the other settles at his throat. You don’t squeeze too hard, just enough to turn his moans into breathy little ah ah ahs.

“Baby, please. Fuck, so close. So good, honey. You’re so good.”

Your grip tightens in his curls, making him groan. Your hips get faster, and so do his fingers on your clit, the pressure more insistent now.

“Fuck, yeah, that’s it, don’t stop baby. Fuck, I love this. I love you. Keep going, so close. Atta girl.”

Your brain is too lost in your actions to register his words. Instead, you press your forehead to his, kissing him gently in contrast to the violent slam of your hips. This juxtaposition seems to be Carmy’s undoing, his grip on your hip tightening so much you hope it’ll bruise.

He emits the most gorgeous moan you’ve ever heard when he comes, which sends you straight over the edge. You tighten like a vice, whole body shuddering with it. Your climax seems to last forever, every single one of your nerves fried and frayed.

You both come down slowly, foreheads pressed together and lungs heaving. You’re panting into his mouth, smoothing out his hair where your fingers have ruffled it. Carmy’s arms wrap around your back, pulling you in so you’re chest to chest as he presses a kiss to your temple. You sit like this for a while, completely at peace in each other’s company.

Eventually, after what could have been hours but was probably minutes, you break the silence.

“So we should probably talk about the I love you, huh?”

@jazminsjaz @buendiabebeta @kingsqueensandvagabonds

[nebulaafterdark]

The Blacks & The Greens

Summary: A marriage of convenience is not enough to bridge the gap between their warring houses. Y/N and Aegon pay the price for his crown. Based off this request.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

Roughish sex, Targcest, angst, depictions of stillbirth.

Y/N and Aegon marry out of convenience. To keep peace, to mend a house broken long before they were born.

Aegon does not mind bedding her, she is pretty enough. He does not mind watching her swell with his heir, he enjoys it even, paying special attention to Y/N as she grows.

“Does it hurt?” He wonders, tracing a little hand or foot across the skin of her abdomen.

“No,” Y/N smiles, passing a hand over his hair.

Aegon kisses her bump, bidding her and his child a good night before making his way down to the pleasure house.

Their first child, a son named Laenor, is Aegon’s pride and joy. His heart swells with something close to love for his wife, the first time he sees bits of her in their son’s features.

Y/N loves Laenor, carrying him about, showing him the Red Keep and all her favorite places in it. Aegon joins them, on occasion, sharing quiet moments with his little family.

Outside of Laenor, they exchange few words. Refusing to share apartments, but Aegon sneaks into her room more often than not, after nights spent in the company of other women.

“I could never fuck you like that.” He tells his wife, words slurred from his cups.

“I would let you.” Y/N assures him.

“You make my heart ache.” Aegon admits, “I hate when you do that.”

“I do not mean to,” Y/N sighs.

Aegon rests a hand over her beating heart. “I know.”

————————————————————————

When asked for another heir, they are more than happy to provide. Exchanging sloppy kisses and sweet words, but never love, it couldn’t be love. Not with the twisted, possessive way of it.

“Beg,” Aegon demands, fucking her roughly enough that air is punched from her lungs with each snap of his hips.

“Please,” Y/N wails, clinging to him desperately.

“Please what?”

“Fill me with your heir, I wish to bear you a hundred children.”

Aegon grins, brushing sweat damp hair from her forehead. “I adore you, you know?”

Her eyes shoot open, meeting his.

“My pretty, bastard wife.”

The princess’s breath hitches, her cunt clenching around him.

“Enjoyed that, did you?”

There is no point in denying it, she likes the way he says it. The way he acknowledges it without insulting her. “Yes.”

“I do not care who sired you. You are mine now, bastard. Mine to fuck and breed. Mine to love, until we are both cold in our graves.”

Love? “Aegon?”

“You heard me well and clear.”

“I love-”

Aegon seals his mouth over hers, swallowing the words. “Don’t you dare say it.”

“Why?” Y/N asks, with big fat tears welling up in her eyes.

“You hold it inside until you burst or pour it over my cock as you milk me, but you do not say it.” Aegon sneers. He couldn’t be loved, he wouldn’t be, by her least of all.

The princess nods, allowing him to cradle her head against his shoulder. Whispering those forbidden words over and over, while she is never allowed to speak them. Her heart aches.

Like every other aspect of their marriage, this too is complicated.

————————————————————————-

Y/N’s term is nearing its end when her grandsire passes and Aegon is forced to usurp her mother’s throne. With blood running down her legs before Aegon is crowned in the dragon pit, she is rushed swiftly away to labor in her chambers.

Now that Aegon is king, he is allowed at her side without contest. Watching as their second child is brought into the world. The babe does not cry, something inside him knows….

The grand Maester is called to work on the child, a sweet little girl with silver hair.

Y/N begins pushing with the second, her tear stained face pleading for him.

Aegon goes to her, because that is all he knows how to do. He goes to her and holds her hand.

“Aegon,” she cries.

“Shhhh,” he hushes her.

“Will the babe live?”

He presses a kiss to her forehead, “I need you to calm yourself, dearest.”

“I can’t.”

“We must focus on this babe,” Aegon brushes a hand over her belly. “They need their mother to provide them safe passage into the world.”

“I want to see her.” Y/N cries, searching for her child.

“I am so sorry, sweetheart.” Aegon says, “so terribly sorry.”

Y/N bares down, sobbing as she does. The child is safe within her, the same cannot be said after it enters this cruel world. “I do not want to lose my child.”

“I will give you another,” Aegon promises, knowing that a thousand children can never make up for the one they’ve lost. “As many as you wish. Please, allow me to get you through this. You must live, our son needs you, I need you.”

“You must keep pushing my queen.”

Y/N brings her third child into the world, expecting the worst. But the little girl cries.

“Thank the gods,” Aegon lets his head fall against his wife’s chest. “Thank the gods.”

The child is laid against her.

“Healthy?”

“Kicking like a goat, my Queen.”

Aegon looks to his wife, their perfect babe in her arms. “I love you.”

Y/N nods, choking on her grief and joy and love for him.

“Say it, my heart.” Aegon feels it on the tip of her tongue, “it’s alright.”

“I love you,” Y/N laments, “I love you and I’m sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to apologize for.”

“Our babe-”

“None of this is your fault. Please know that.”

Y/N nods, not entirely convinced.

The King and Queen spend days in that bed, mourning their loss, unaware of Rhaenyra’s similar suffering across the sea.

There is no war so hateful as a war between kin, they will all pay the price for it; the Blacks and the Greens.

[jamminvroomvroom]

second time around.

ln x fem!reader

in which he’s quite desperate to have a second kid.

staying in my active era! there is honestly no excuse for this one, i just simply couldn’t help myself. it’s porn, yes, there is plot, but it’s just. porn.

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! where do i even begin? smut, more smut, breeding kink (kinda the whole point), choking, overstimulation, general sex acts, public sex, car sex, shower sex, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of the kid they already have, lando being a little shit, sex somewhere unhinged in the mtc, a brief moment of angst, dom!lando, rough sex? yeah.

3.9k words

take: 1

the season is coming to an end.

somewhere between italy and singapore lando decides he wants another kid.

it’s a warm day in the middle of september when he proposes the idea to you. you’re watching your daughter toddle around the garden, soaking up the last remnants of sunlight before the darkness of autumn encapsulates the warm beams until march.

she giggles, pushing her toys around in the grass. you let her play, lost in her own little world of wonder. lando turns to you, scanning your side profile, watching you watch the little girl. he’s awestruck, enamoured totally by the family he’s created, by the woman he loves. he doesn’t think, he just opens his mouth and let’s loose his big idea.

“want another one?” he cooes, sliding closer across the bench, until he’s nosing at your cheek. kisses are pressed to your puffy face. it’s still early.

at first you think he’s offering you another coffee, so you hold out your almost empty mug to him. you’d been nursing the drink, letting it go cold in the naturally cooler air. he laughs at you, and that’s when you clock what he’s actually asking.

you turn to him, facing each other now. lando looks excited. you wonder if you can find a way to mirror his expression.

“lando…” you start. his face drops at your tone, letting him down easy. “it’s not that i don’t want to, it’s just-“

“i’ll be home more. i’ve worked it all out. if we get to work now, baby will be here around the summer break.”

you mull over his words.

your first baby was a shock to you both, and you didn’t fancy doing that again. you loved lando with every fibre of your being, just as you did your daughter, but being away from him so much in the lead up to her arrival shot every one of your nerves to pieces.

but another baby would be on the agenda eventually - you both desperately wanted to add to your beautiful family - and you supposed that if he’d done the math…

“by get to work now, you mean…?” you cock an eyebrow at him. he lights up like the christmas tree you’d be putting up in a few months.

“she’s going down for her nap soon.” lando smirks, voice edged with that excitement once again.

-

his head is between your legs mere moments after he shuts your bedroom door.

you’d been waiting for him, stripped bare in anticipation. your baby girl would be down for a good few hours, more than enough time for him to draw out everything you had to offer and fill you back up.

his tongue runs over your flesh; he’s messy with it. you’re choking out whimpers as he licks and laps and tugs with his teeth. your pussy clenches around nothing and he notices, sliding his fingers all over where you ache. they’re quickly wet enough to slide inside of you, and he grinds them deep, luring traces of an orgasm into the pit of your belly. it’s familiar, the way he winds you up, and you want him like this every minute of the day.

“getting you ready, honey. gonna get you so fucking ready.” lando is slurring words into your cunt, letting them get lost to your sodden folds. you hear every word perfectly. they make you shake and shake until you’re undone.

when he looks up at you, his mouth is glistening. his fingers are, too. he hates wasting a drop of you, so he laps up the mess you’ve made while he shuffles up the bed. when he’s finally hovering over you, he’s desperate, but you’re worse. you could cry from the urge.

something carnal is taking place; he’s staring into your soul, finishing up the remnants of your taste, and you’re begging with your eyes, hands slinking all over your own body. you must be dripping by now. your body is restless and you raise your hips, inviting him close, deep.

when he thrusts into you, he’s pinning you down into your shared mattress. you’re completely at his mercy and he fucking loves it. you love it more. you go slack underneath him, and he starts a slow grind. he’s not thrusting, not yet, he’s just rolling into you, deeper, deeper, deeper. you feel the first tears threatening to fall. he feels so good, it’s unbearable.

he nudges at your most sensitive spot, over and over and over. you whine carnally and he swallows it, licking into your mouth. his curls tickle your forehead, you’re pressed so close together. he sees the pools in your eyes and then he looses it completely.

hand on your neck for leverage, he starts thrusting, harder and harder, faster than you can ever recall. he knows you can take it, knows how bad you want it, and that thought alone spurs him on. you have the same goals, the same shared instincts. you feel nothing but pure fucking bliss everywhere.

“you want me to fill you up? you want my baby, honey? want me buried nice and deep?” you hear him grunt, but he sounds so far away.

you are lost to the void when you come. you can’t even try and resist, not when you can hear how wet you are, not when you can hear the quiet whimpers he tries to fight at the way your pussy convulses around him. you cannot see anything but the stars in his eyes.

you go limp and he spills, fucking it even further into you. his eyes are trained on where you’re still joined, and where he’s still fucking you. you’d be screaming if not for the hand wrapped around your throat. the most delicious piece of jewellery you own.

lando needs to know he’s gone as deep as he can, that you’ve come as hard as he can make you. he feels unhinged when his fingers find your clit, switching between short spasms of his finger on the nub, and grinding down on it with his palm. you’re both overstimulated, soaked with sweat and other things. you’re gripping his cock so fucking tight that he can’t stop the rush of moans, your name mumbled like a prayer between expletives.

but still, he needs to know it’s deep enough.

an hour later, you can finally move, and you sink deep into the bath.

your head is on his chest, he washes you gently. you wonder if it’ll be a boy or a girl.

-

date night

almost a month passes. no sign of baby number two.

it’s fine, you tell yourself. you tell lando, too. all the more reason to keep practicing.

every opportunity he gets to bury himself to the hilt inside of you is a win in both of your books. he grabs every single one of those opportunities with both hands.

you’re dressed up nice for dinner, little black dress hugging you well. you watch the scenery flick past you. lando’s in the drivers seat, making small talk, his left hand heavy on your bare thigh. you’ve just dropped your daughter off with her grandparents, your mother hugging lando tight. he’d been gone a while.

fingers skim higher up your thigh. you want to let him carry on but this car is new, untainted by his adventurous personality and your willingness to comply. your legs snap shut and you watch him smirk out the corner of your eye.

“later.” you whisper.

his knuckles turn white on the steering wheel.

“i know. don’t you worry, honey.” he doesn’t sound convincing, no, he sounds like a man with a plan and you dread to think of what he has in store.

the restaurant is tiny. a hole in the wall. it’s intimate, exclusive, slightly extortionate, but lando likes to treat you. you order, and he behaves. you sip wine, and he behaves. you drag your heel up his leg, and still, he behaves. you know something is brewing behind those stormy eyes.

he launches his attack during dessert.

vanilla ice cream hits your tongue when he strikes, leaning back in his chair. his thick neck captures your attention, the dim light accentuating him just right.

“would your prefer we take this to the car or the bathroom? it’s pretty spacious back there, you know.”

lando speaks so casually, and slightly too loudly. your cheeks are aflame.

“lando!” you hiss in warning. you’re sputtering over his boldness, catching some ice cream with your tongue. he watches the way it moves over your lips intently.

“actually, as tempting as the bathroom is, we still need to break in the new car.” lando sounds like he’s talking about the weather, or a shopping list, not the location of your next sexcapade. you swear you see the old lady at the next table over wink at you. “your choice, honey.”

you’re staring daggers at him. he leans in closer, elbows resting on the table and a shit eating grin contorting his pretty face.

“i’ve been gone too long, i need to remember what that pussy feels like.” his voice has dropped an octave but it’s still too loud. you inadvertently grind against the chair. the candle on the table flickers from the force of the shaky breath your expel.

“if you shut up now, you can have me anywhere you want me.” you mumble, bringing your napkin to your lips. the ice cream is melting and you have more important things on your mind.

“i’ll have you anyway, honey. because no matter what happens, we’re gonna go back to the car and you’re gonna crawl into my lap, aren’t you? you’re not gonna be able to help it.” he keeps going and you want the ground to swallow you up. maybe you want to crawl over the table and jump on his lap right here. you fight every natural instinct.

“lando.” you try to scold him again but it comes out breathier, a feeble attempt at shutting him up. it’s hard to be convincing when you want nothing more than for him to bend you over in the middle of this restaurant.

“and after i’ve had you shaking on my lap, i’m gonna fill you up, yeah? you’ve been waiting for weeks, poor thing.”

you usher over the waiter, and ask for the bill.

-

he’s got you home in one piece and all the way up to the shower.

you’re still delirious from the car. he’s still dripping out of you.

he pushes you against the shower screen, your cheek resting on the fogged up plastic. the combination of yours and his first orgasm is enough to slick him up and he slides right back inside of you, as if he’d never left.

your head is spinning, car lights and nail prints in leather seats flashing through your mind.

he’d been right in the restaurant. you’d crawled straight into his lap and he’d been waiting, seat pushed back, cock slapping up against his tanned belly. he’d swiped his fingers through your folds, determining that you were wet enough already, and then you’d sunk straight down on him.

at first he’d just watched you lose control, bouncing and grinding and whining on his lap. you were growing tired when he stepped in, pushing you back against the steering wheel, the angle change making your eyes roll back. you came twice with his fingers on your clit and his other hand holding you down so he could grind up into you. he’d released deep into you, all you could do was shudder, collapsing into his chest.

now, he’s taking you again, the hot water cascading over you both. you’re almost limp, caught between the cold screen and his hot, restless body. this it was three weeks apart does to him, and the urge to claim every part of you is at the forefront of his mind.

you’re writhing. there’s no room to move; he’s pressed so tight against you, breathy moans sounding straight into your ear and you want him impossibly closer. you always missed him so much it hurt, but that pain had increased tenfold lately.

you try to roll your hips back into him, needing him deeper, somehow. you’re so wet and tight around him, and your attempt at moving on him has you clamping down on him.

lando whimpers when he lets go, marking you as his.

he washes your hair and you fall asleep together naked.

-

the fear

lando is due back from qatar.

any minute now, he’ll be walking through the door.

he’s taken a podium, so you are expecting somewhat high spirits, despite the slight issue that had been the sprint race.

a podium is a podium, you’d tried to tell him on the phone late on saturday night. you knew that a podium was never just a podium.

you’re cleaning the kitchen up, your sweet daughter tucked up tight in her bed upstairs. a random playlist is sounding from the speakers and you flit around in just his hoodie. it hits mid thigh and it’s keeping you shielded from the biting october air.

you hear keys in the lock somewhere in the distance. you grin stupidly. god, you always fucking miss him. you turn to face the doorway, eagerly anticipating his face, longing for one of his speciality hugs.

instead, a storm enters your kitchen in the form of your boyfriend.

you raise and eyebrow.

“lando?” you question.

your hips are in his hands before he can answer. he’s walking you backwards until the granite of the counter is digging into your lower back.

“turn around.” his voice is gravelly, commanding. you do as you’re told.

the hoodie is bunched around your waist, your panties are tugged to the side. you can hear the rustle of fabric, assuming he’s getting himself ready. two fingers gloss through your folds while he pushes you down, bending you over for him. he’s rubbing circles into your clit and you’re keening into his touch.

“you gonna tell me what’s wrong?” you manage to choke out. he grunts in response.

“just need to get inside you.” is all he replies. well, okay then.

lando rearranges you, hiking one of your knees up so that’s it’s resting on the countertop. your other foot barely touches the floor when he fucks into you, ruthless. you cry out, reaching blindly behind you for him. you graze his hip and he shivers, pushing into you even harder.

he’s frantic, messy with it, thumbing at your clit. there’s hardly any room to move his hand, so he’s grinding the pad of his thumb as best he can. the pressure builds in your belly embarrassingly fast. you love when he gets like this, but you will pry what’s wrong out of him later when he curls up into his chest.

“gonna give you another one. s’all i can think about. fucking you full.” he mutters. your back arches into him.

“please.” you whimper, slurred. it’s all you can think about too.

your plea ushers along his orgasm, and he drops his head against your back. you’re shaking when you finish; he stays buried deep for a moment, silence washing over you.

when he helps you stand up, he kisses you deep. he brushes the hair from your face, says hello properly.

“wanna go see her.” he mumbles.

-

when you finally manage to climb the stairs, you see straight into your daughters room.

lando is stood over her crib, watching her sleep in the lamp lit room. he’s cooing something to her that you can’t make out. your knees are weak at the sight. you want to fill this house with children that look like him and laugh the way he does.

he catches you watching, sending you a wink, a promise that he’ll meet you in bed. when he finally does, drawing back the sheets and dropping into bed beside you, he wraps himself around you instantly.

“talk to me.” you command, toying with his hair in a way that you know turns him into mush in your hands.

“can’t win a race, can’t give you another baby. just- fuck.” he sighs, voice so small. you tear up but you push that aside for now.

“stop, lando. don’t do this to yourself.” you try to sound firm, attentive.

“just- am i good to you? am i good to her?” he needs to hear you say it, that’s the only thing that will talk him down from this spiral. he’s exhausted, and this is often a consequence.

“sometimes i think you hung the stars in the sky.” you hum, kissing his forehead.

gentle snores lull you to sleep.

-

quickie

you go with him to austin.

it seemed logical, after the events of qatar. your daughter has been stolen away by lando’s dad, who is showing her the paddock and introducing her to mechanics. you watch on, momentarily, because then lando is stealing you away.

“haven’t you got fp3 in a minute?” you ask, coy smile on your face. he’s pulling your jeans down and kicking them away.

“this won’t take long.” he smirks.

you crave the upper hand for a change. his race suit is already undone, so you make your move. you tug down his fireproofs, taking his cock in your hands. he’s hard already, glistening for you. he groans, but doesn’t make you stop.

you’re watching him through your eyelashes, his head tipping back in pleasure. you work your hand around him, up and down, applying pressure at the base and around the tip. it’s flushed red, wet in your hand and he looks too pretty to stop. he can have you later, in your hotel room, you think. right now, you’re having him.

lando is panting, thrusting into your hand when he comes for you. you’re soaked through, and he can probably see the damp patch on the panties. his release hits your stomach, painting your flushed skin white. your eyes scan the room for something to clean yourself with, but he beats you to it.

thick fingers swipe through the mess he’s made. your panties are tugged to the side and then he’s fucking you with said fingers. you cannot produce a thought, mouth gaping open in the shape of an ‘o’. the sight before you has you gushing, and he uses that leverage to speed up.

“you think i’m gonna let it go go waste, honey? silly girl. pretty, pretty girl.” he mutters.

your hips are bucking into his hand when he pulls out of you, collecting more of him from your belly, and then he’s thrusting them in again. you tear up from the pleasure coursing through you, white hot. he’s crazy, you think, but he’s so fucking beautiful, teasing glint in his eye as he curls his fingers deeper.

“want it so bad, don’t you? gotta keep you full for me, don’t i?”

you’re sure you can be heard from the garage when your orgasm hits.

-

office party

a burnt orange dress clings to your hips and a curly haired man clings to your hand.

the mtc is lit up for another gala that you and lando have to attend. the season is over and they’ve had a great run, so a toast must be made to celebrate that.

you watch him get passed around the room between sponsors and other important people, proud of what he’s achieved. you hate sharing him, but it’s a necessary evil, so you drink champagne with oscar’s girlfriend, lily, and natalie pinkham.

when lando comes back to you, his PR smile is dropped and that genuine, boyish grin returns that you have so missed in his momentary absence. he introduces you to some people, proudly showing you off, sinking drinks as he does.

it’s nearing 10pm when his actions become questionable. his hand stays on your ass, his words whispered in your ear are filthy and his sly kisses on your neck stop being quite so sly.

you remove him from the main event, just for a moment, just to try and get him to compose himself before you jump him against one of the vintage racing cars. he sees this as an invitation, however, and then everything goes awry.

he’s dragging you into the lift, kissing you against the closed doors. when you stumble out a floor up, you can still hear the function in full swing. he’s pulling you down a hallway and into what you assume is an office. when he has you sat on a desk, you realise where you are.

“is this zak’s office?” your eyes pop out of your head, bewildered.

“maybe.” he shrugs. he’s smirking like a bastard.

“you’re insane.” you shake your head, standing from the desk, but his lips ghost your ear and you’re putty in his hands.

“you’re driving me insane. coming here in this tight fucking dress. can’t stop looking at you, thinking about this.” his hand rubs over your lower belly as he speaks, and then you’re back on the desk.

lando’s on his knees, peeling the silky material over your thighs until your barely there panties are in his face. he mouths over them briefly, and then they’re gone and his tongue is buried to the hilt in your cunt.

it doesn’t take him long to get you off, the alcohol and the thrill of being in the one place you should never have sex pushing you quickly towards your orgasm.

the glass wall of windows is too inviting for lando to pass up, so on shaky legs, you’re pressed up against them, looking out over the pond and the fairy lights when he pushes into you.

he’s kissing over your shoulder, your neck, holding your down on him while he thrusts up into you. you turn your head to kiss him, to let him swallow up your noises that could give you away.

“you’re so fucking good for me, honey. letting me have you here like this just so i can give you a baby.” he slurs against your lips, pussy drunk and ravenous.

he finds your clit, fast fingers making small swipes against it and you want to cry.

“gonna make this time count, yeah, honey? gonna keep it all inside of you until we get home?”

you try to nod, try to say something but you’re choking on air and dripping all over him. a couple more thrusts and you’re the perfect vessel for him to release into, throbbing and hot around his cock.

“beg for it, honey, come on. tell me how much you want it.” lando mumbles right in your ear.

“lando, please. please, please, please.” you whimper. “come for me, baby, need it inside of me.”

you leave the office a lot more composed than when you entered it. well, aside from the remnants of him that are running down your inner thighs.

-

a month later, lando’s laughing. he’s actually laughing, while you cringe, burying your blushing face in his chest.

you’re holding a pregnancy test in your hands, finally a positive one.

when you do the maths, you realise where baby norris was conceived, and you try and make him promise never to tell anyone that it was in his boss’s office.

“it’s a funny story.” he tells you. there are tears in his eyes.

“you’re so lucky i love you.” you roll your eyes. you are also dangerously close to crying.

but truthfully, you’re the lucky one. he carries you to bed that night, claiming that now you had a baby on board, you had to be careful!

you dream of him, that night. the man that hung the stars in the sky.

-

once again, idk what came over me i’m sorry lmfao

-

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[deansbabyangel]

wanna wear my jacket? — a dean winchester drabble

summary: reader gets cold during a hunt, and dean takes the chance to tease her before giving her his jacket.

includes: fluff, pet names (sweetheart, angel), protective dean vibes, playful banter.

the wind was biting as you trudged through the woods, every step crunching against frozen leaves. you pulled your arms tighter around yourself, wishing you had grabbed an actual coat instead of your trusty flannel.

“you okay back there, sweetheart?” dean called from up ahead, turning to look at you. the smirk on his face told you he already knew the answer.

“fine,” you huffed, even though your teeth were practically chattering.

he raised an eyebrow, slowing his pace so he could walk beside you. “fine, huh? ‘cause you look like a popsicle.”

“i forgot my jacket, okay?” you admitted, pouting a little as you tried to rub warmth into your arms. “it didn’t match my outfit.”

dean let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “your priorities, angel. they never fail to amaze me.”

before you could come up with a sassy reply, he was shrugging off his leather jacket and holding it out to you.

“here,” he said simply.

you blinked up at him, wide-eyed. “but, dean, what about you? you’ll be cold.”

“sweetheart,” he drawled, draping the jacket over your shoulders, “i’ve been through worse than a little cold. plus, watching you turn into a human icicle ain’t exactly my idea of a fun night.”

the jacket was warm, smelling like leather and faint traces of his cologne. it was so big on you that the sleeves hung past your fingertips, but you didn’t mind one bit.

“thanks, dean,” you murmured, a shy smile tugging at your lips.

“don’t mention it,” he said, ruffling your hair affectionately. “but if you ever leave your coat behind again, i’m making you wear one of sam’s hoodies. no more fashion statements on hunts, got it?”

you giggled, wrapping the jacket tighter around yourself. “got it, boss.”

dean smirked, slinging an arm around your shoulders as you both continued walking. “good. now let’s finish this up so i can get you back to the bunker and warm you up properly.”

a/n: aaa this is so soft i could cry!! pls let me know what you think + feel free to send requests my way!! i love writing fluffy dean moments <3