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percywinchester27 · 2 days ago

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The new Mrs. Winchester (19)

Word count: 4.5K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Chapter warnings: Implications of sexual abuse, mentions of torture, PTSD, angst, flesh trade, language, mention of violence; reader discretion is strongly advised.

Series Summary:��After spending over two years in captivity, and enduring assault, torture, and degradation of every kind, Y/N is finally sold off to the highest bidder. But when the deal is masked as a hushed marriage to a wealthy and powerful man, Y/N knows it means a few more nights of brutal torment ending in certain death. After all, why else would a man like him, want someone like her, except to fulfill desires so depraved that they would require owning a person. However, the Winchester mansion has mysteries of its own, woven in lies, betrayal, and death. Smack in the middle of it, she finds both hope and a home, in the person she least expected to find it with. But when it comes down to it, will she be able to save the thing that matters the most?

A/N: A huge shoutout to all my wonderful readers! Your support and love keeps me going! <3

Beta: My darling, @deanssweetheart23

“You can’t kick 'em in the nuts and make a run for it?” The girl in the next cell asked.

“Not if you want to avoid getting beaten into a pulp,” you told her through a mouthful of bread and tomato. “There’s always a guard outside the door.”

“Kick 'em in the nuts, too.”

You snorted so hard, bits of tomato landed on the floor.

“So, let me get this straight,” she said. “There are fancy rooms upstairs with wardrobes full of fancy clothes that you have to wear and then they take you to other fancy places for men–”

“Sometimes it’s just the fancy rooms overhead. Men come here, too.”

“But they take you out, don’t they?” She argued. “Just go to a reception and tell the hostess, a waitress, anyone. I know you managed to run away once… so why not try again? If they let you out, it can’t be that hard!”

You swallowed the bite in your mouth and sighed. What did it matter if you told her the truth? Neither of you would make it out anyway.

“They’ve kidnapped my half-brother and half-sister. Little kids, barely six… have them at gunpoint somewhere. I make one wrong move and they are dead.”

“Shit.”

You could picture her dumbstruck expression. After spending a week next to her, seeing her face while going in and out, you were starting to get a hang of her. You still didn’t know why you did it, take her turn every night. Eventually, they would drag her out, but for a week, the boss wasn’t in the building and no one seemed to push the inevitable and drag that girl’s stubborn ass out.

And boy was she stubborn. She bit and clawed like a wild cat at the guards who tried to drag her. She got plenty beat up in the process, but everyone seemed to wait for the boss to get her in line when he came.

“Don’t you worry,” she said. “My fiance is going to get us out.”

“Fiance?”

“Yeah. I bet he’s worried out of his mind right now. But there’s police. They’ll find us.”

“The police are in on this,” you said. “They get serviced for their quiet.”

She spat, then screamed in frustration.

Footsteps echoed off the walls, and blood froze in your veins. You recognised the hard tap and unforgiving rhythm of his steps. The boss.

“Go to your bed and pretend to sleep,” you hissed, discarding the sandwich in your hand and doing the same.

“W-what?”

“Just do it.”

Covering yourself entirely with the blanket, you rolled into a ball, as if that would make you invisible, teleport you out of the horror story you were about witness. Since staring at the glass wall in his cabin for the first time, you had prayed for yourself. The pastor in the church your aunt dragged you to every Sunday preached that one should only pray for the world and not for oneself… because praying for oneself was selfish. If you prayed only for the world, that made you a good person, and God helped good people without having to ask for it.

You had never been particularly religious, but that one thing had stuck around. Subconsciously, all your life, you had never asked for yourself, not from God, the universe or even as a favour from people. If you wanted something, you had worked hard to earn it, and achieve it by sheer will and not divine intervention.

But that first night with the boss had made you pray for yourself over and over.

And you prayed now, in whispers that only remained in your breath, never making a sound.

God, let him forget that I exist… Not tonight. Please please please.

The footsteps came to a halt, and the door next to yours opened.

You closed your eyes tighter. Oh, that poor girl. He had come for her at last.

“I hear you’ve been difficult.”

A spit.

“Michael,” he said in his cold, raspy voice. “Hand me my cane, now.”

“Yes, Boss,” said Michael, gleefully.

A slash in the air and a piercing scream sliced the air.

You shut your ears tightly as the scuffling began… but then it ended as suddenly as it had started when a loud, sickening crunch which sounded so close to the shared wall that you were certain it had happened against it.

A minute passed.

“Oh, what a terrible waste,” the boss sighed at last, almost delicately. “Remove it.”

The taps receded and then soon they carried her body by your cell, blood trailing behind her.

You sat up bolt in your bed, unable to keep the bile down as you emptied your stomach on the carpet next to the bed. Sam’s side of the carpet.

You plopped back on the bed, breathing heavily.

“Just a dream,” you told yourself. “Just a dream.” Then, the reality came crashing down on you and you wanted to throw up all over again.

Abby’s quiet knock from the main door wrenched you out of bed and through the seating area. She didn’t have to see the vomit. Her face was pinched when you opened the door for her. She entered trepidly and placed the breakfast tray on the table.

“Who’s in the house?” You asked

“Just us,” she said. “Mr Dean Winchester left last night itself.”

“And S-Sam? He’s out for his run?”

“Mr Winchester left for work.”

“It’s only 7.”

She gave you an apprehensive look, as if she wanted to say something but was scared of how you would perceive it.

“What is it, Abby?”

“Miss, he’s in a right state, that man. Before you came, he used to be so dry and detached… but this past month, since you first locked yourself in your room, he’s gone from pillar to post for you. Sleep, food, everything be damned. The only thing he has done is worry.” Her hand fluttered nervously to her side. “He stumbled down the steps this morning from exhaustion and still went for his run anyway. I think he needs to see a doctor.”

Abby didn’t know what had conspired last night.

“I don’t know the deal with his brother being back now,” she said, wrangling the corner of her apron. “But everyone knows they don’t get along. It can’t be good for him.”

Sam had looked exhausted last evening. The dark circles under his eyes, the once-fitted shirt that hung loose on his shoulders, and the ever-present frown on his forehead had become more and more etched now.

“Abby, tell me when Sam is back, will you?”

You sent her away and cleaned up your mess in the bedroom. A hot shower further cleared your head. Taking stock of your time in the Winchester Mansion made you recount the number of times you had run out on Sam, locked yourself in the room, the number of secrets you had kept. So, he’d had his own secrets. You knew that.

Then there was the fact that Sam had never explicitly said he hated his brother. In fact, he’d never spoken of him without pain mingled with love. His exact words- “We had a fight and I couldn’t see his face after that.” Couldn’t…. Not ‘Didn’t want.’ Nowhere had his words implied that Sam’s consent was considered.

The day appeared stormy, with an overcast sky. Maybe the light of the lantern would carry, perhaps it wouldn’t. You set it on the sill anyway.

Dean found you at the pier an hour later, when you had nearly given up hope. He stood at his usual spot but did not sit beside you and you noticed he was dressed differently; no jacket today, just a black T-shirt and jeans.

Slowly, you tilted your face upwards to meet his sharp green eyes. How often had you wondered what Dean Winchester would be like? Bitter? Angry? But Han wasn’t any of those things.

“Get up!” He ordered, without an ounce of remorse. You got to your feet.

“This way,” he pointed and began to walk towards the jungle without a preamble.

A frisson of annoyance ran through you. Where was his abashedness?

“Sam didn’t know,” he said briskly. “That you knew me. That we knew each other. That poor bastard had no damn clue.”

“You want me to believe you’ve been hiding out in these woods without Sam knowing?”

“Yes.” He came to an abrupt stop and you realised Dean was dead serious. “That kid’s as straight-jacketed as they come. Keeping up the charade nearly did a number on his head, and then you came into the picture. Sam’s nearly lost his goddamned mind over you.”

“He told you that?”

Dean sighed in exasperation. “Haven’t you been listening to a single word? I haven’t seen Sam in months, not since the fight. But he’s my only family left. I had to keep an eye on the kid.”

The trees were too damn thick for any sunlight to trickle down. Dean started walking again and you followed.

“What was the fight about, then?” You pressed, refusing to believe.

“You,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Two years before I came into the picture? Yeah, right.”

Dean tilted his head, weighing his words. “About the idea of you, I guess.”

“Wow, that clears it all up, doesn’t it?” You laughed sarcastically.

He stayed quiet for so long that you actually paid attention to your surroundings, finding the trail vaguely familiar in the thick trees.

“We were to be married in eight weeks,” he said, voice deep and achingly sad. “She’d come to drop off pie for me. Sam says he insisted on dropping her back, but I knew my Jo. She was stubborn that one. If she wanted to drive herself, nothing Sam said would’ve changed her mind. Nothing. Ellen called three hours later asking for her. We searched all night long, all through the woods, all the way two towns over. Nothing. Sniffer dogs couldn’t catch a trail. The police found her car two days later in New Mexico… and her body two weeks later face down in the lake.”

You wanted to reach out, say something… anything, but words failed.

“She hadn’t drowned, Y/N. She’d already been dead when they threw her in there. Post-mortem said haemorrhage… blunt force trauma to the back of her head, ligature marks, bruises…” He closed his eyes unable to continue.

You knew bits and parts of what followed– Dean’s self-destructive tendency and Sam’s unwavering support. The latter won.

“Sam still thinks he’s to blame. That he should have somehow foreseen it. I know Ellen doesn’t disagree with him or shy away from throwing it in his face.” A mirthless scoff.

“I think the bigger part of her anger is because of what Sam did to you… and me.” You said. “Or rather, what she thinks he did to you and me.”

Dean sighed. “I owe Sam a lot more than my life, a sorry and a thank you. This whole plan hinges on his resilience.”

“What plan?”

He ran a hand through his hair, but his pace slowed down. “The detective working this case, Jody Mills… she’s suspected a human trafficking ring here for years. Every few years someone goes missing or a body mysteriously appears. But this thing has its claws in so deep that we can’t trust the entire PD.”

A shiver ran down your spine.

He glanced at you briefly, and you saw the ever-present kindness there. “You’re smart. I’m sure you’ve figured out a bunch of this yourself.”

Nodding to yourself, you thought out loud. “Sam wasn’t keeping me around for sex, didn’t want to hang me as bait for kidnapping, so obviously he wants information about where I was but…” You vividly remembered the night when he’d held your bloody hand and then all but shushed your barrage when you had tried to spill it all in a haze. “He stopped me from telling him… He didn’t want to hear any of it.”

Dean chuckled. A sudden light sound in the pressing quiet. “And I just called you smart.”

“What?”

“For all your God-forsaken angst over loving Sam… Have you not considered him liking you back?” Dean narrowed his eyes as if he was judging your intelligence. “Obviously it’s hard for him to listen to what you’ve been through. Hell, I’ve choked back on what little you’ve told me. Why are you being so thick?”

Tears sprang in your eyes.

He placed a gentle hand against your cheek.

“Give yourself some credit, Y/N. As stupid as you’re being right now, how can you question your own judgement of Sam so easily? You took your time forming your opinion, didn’t you? So consider all proof objectively. He was on board with the plan from day one knowing it would wreck his reputation if I disappeared after transferring my inheritance to him, knowing he’d have to make himself a villain… all for Jo. The kid didn’t bat an eye before agreeing. What led to the fight was the very last step of the plan. After infiltrating the system, he’d have to be one of them and well…”

“Buy a girl,” you finished.

“Yes,” said Dean. The word hung heavy in the air. “Sam refused to do it at first, but it was the only way. It’s killed him since day one, Y/N. And yesterday when you said he’s no better than any of those men who hurt you…”

The tears now freely flowed down your cheek and right into Dean’s palm. He slowly directed your face into his chest, tightly wrapping his arms around you.

“Oh, what have I done?” You whispered into his jacket.

Sam had banged hard on your door last night and you never gave him a chance to explain. Not a single word. If you truly loved him, how come the trust was broken this easily? And when you refused to speak, he’d respected your consent then, too.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” you said. “I should’ve trusted him, trusted you. After all, you never coaxed anything from me. I–”

A thousand memories ran through your mind: Sam’s fingers holding up your corset, touching his hand for the first time in the entrance hall before, his laugh after the false escape from dinner. Sam handing you a portfolio, Sam showing you around the old guesthouse, his fingers slipping on your wet shirt in the barn, laughing with him on the floor of your bedroom, his voice as he read out poetry… and his lips when they met yours.

“Sam took to playing chess in high school,” said Dean as you moved back. “I don’t think he ever got too good at it, but he used to come back rambling about all these moves, the King's Gambit, the Scandanavian, the Sicilian. He didn’t have anyone to play against, so I learned the basics to humour him and we played every night before bed.”

He’d started walking again and you kept pace this time.

“So there we are one night, recreating some classic game from half a century ago and I played a different piece and well, what do you know, my king ended up in a position from where he couldn’t move. Thought I’d lost because that was the only square my King was safe in. But then Sam said that’s not what it was. I couldn’t be forced to move my King to a checked square, but it wasn’t currently checked. A stalemate is what it was. That’s where we are at, Y/N.”

“A stalemate?”

“Yes. We know pieces of information, but not the ones that actually matter. It’s our move next, but every square is checked, Y/N. We need to know.”

The dim lights of the dungeon came back to you and oddly the crack of the skull. “The operation is not local, definitely crosses state lines. The building where they kept me is somewhere along New Mexico's border. It’s a huge glass building, seven stories high. I don’t know exactly where but from the se…” you gulped. “From the seventh floor, I could see a tall red tower with blinking lights. They blinked all the time… like passing seconds… but slower than s- seconds. The boss sits on the seventh floor.”

“The boss?”

“I-I don’t know his name. No one does. They only call him ‘the boss.”

“This is good, Y/N,” Dean said eagerly. “What does he look like? How does he find these girls? How does he keep them?”

“He… He looks like any other white man, in his 50’s, maybe early 60’s but his eyes, he has the coldest gray eyes and his laugh...” You stopped, collecting your thoughts. “You already know how he gets the girls. Men as scouts, pretending to be friends or lovers, finding vulnerable girls with little in the way of family. Me… Rosalie. About keeping them, there are two ways. One is standard, get them hooked to heroin. Once you have that, they’ll do anything to get the next fix. But those girls don’t make much money, yeah? They aren’t polished. I was the second kind, for the richer clientele that don’t like the smell of drugs and want the girls alive and kicking. For them, guess, it’s easier to blackmail by holding a loved one hostage. Rosalie only had a mother and I only had Jamie and Danny.”

You told him about how your siblings were held hostage somewhere, and how you stayed in line just to protect them.

“There’s very little we wouldn’t do to protect them, wouldn’t we?”

Dean nodded, then came to a halt and you noticed with some surprise that you were standing in front of the wishing well.

His fingers grazed the parapet's tally marks, and you voiced a long-lost curiosity. “Why do you have one extra?”

“That dumbass brought you here, didn’t he?” Dean snorted. “So much for our secret place.” But he didn’t seem to hold any grudge over it. “Dad brought me here right before Sam was born. Told me this was a magic well, so I needed to make a wish about what I wanted… a sister or a brother.”

“What did you ask for?”

“You see the extra mark there, don’t you?” He winked. “After the fire, I used to run out a lot, trying to find the well again. Wish my dead parents back, you know? Finally found it when I was twelve and Sam was eight. ”

“Seems like you’ve kept pace since with the tallys.”

Dean winked as if there was a secret to it, but didn’t share it with you.

“Come on, make a wish then,” he said.

“One is already due. I don’t want to burden the well.” You sighed. “Look, Dean. I’ll help you with whatever you want. I can draw plans of the building, and the street layout I could see from the seventh floor. Tell you the number of guards, the shifts, even the names of some of the clients, but I need you to promise me that nothing will happen to my brother and sister.”

“I promise.”

The walk back should have seemed like an interrogation, except Dean held your hand as you described more of the place, the people, the process… the boss.

“I told you already, I don’t know his name,” you burst out when he questioned a third time.

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Did he… Did he hurt you? This boss?”

You laughed. One short, shaky laugh. “He had a wall full of these instruments… silver, gleaming and so cold.” Then there was the glass wall.

“Oh, that son of a bitch.”

“I wonder why you think Jo was involved in this,” you said, more to change the subject that anything else. “I mean she didn’t exactly fit the pattern.” Full family, doting boyfriend, well-to-do. Blitz kidnapping didn’t seem likely. The boss had to have had something on her.

“No, she didn’t fit the pattern and for a long time, we didn’t suspect her to have been in this.”

“How come?”

Dean’s voice reduced to barely above a whisper. “No obvious signs of… sexual assault in the postmortem report.” And despite the tragedy of it, Dean almost sounded relieved. He pulled out an old wallet from his back pocket and gazed at a picture inside lovingly. “I don’t know, Y/N, it makes me feel like an asshole but knowing that maybe she might have escaped the worst of it… God, I think it kept me from throwing myself off a damn cliff.”

“Oh, Dean!” You closed the distance in-between to hug him. “I bet she–” you gasped. The wallet hung loosely in his grasp and you glimpsed the picture behind the plastic.

You grabbed the wallet and held it up. “That… That’s Jo? Your Jo?”

He took you by your shoulders. “You knew her?”

“Oh my God!” All the hurt and anger and fear came crashing down on you as you collapsed to the green earth of the side lawn. Over the years she had gone from being the girl in the next cell, to the girl with brown eyes, to the girl in your nightmares and eventually… the only thing you were proud of.

“She’s… she used to be the girl in the next cell. I knew her.”

“Who did this to her?” Dean asked, voice so sharp, it didn’t even sound his.

“The Boss did,” you whispered. “I think it might have been an accident. I only heard the scuffle and then the crack of her skull. It was quick. She didn’t suffer much.”

There was a sharp intake of breath over you and you didn’t dare look up.

“Dean, you should know, the girls there… eventually choose to stay there. I know I did. Once you stop with the kicking and screaming, it gets a little easier. The bad days are lesser and most clients don’t treat you like complete trash. There’s food on your plate at night and poor orphan girls have a bed to sleep in when they comply… they…. we stop fighting. Because there is no relief to fight for, no home to go to and no one who could protect us. But your Jo, she never stopped. I bet she took a few teeth out of that one guard, too.”

“Did they… did anyone ever…?” He could not spit the entire sentence out and you saw the courage it took to finally confront that question.

You looked straight in his tear-stained tortured eyes. “No one hurt her that way. I… I took her turns for the week she was there. I still don’t know why I did it. I’m not a charitable person, and it was hell that week, but something about her faith in her fiance reminded me of, well, me… before I found out how I got there. I wanted to protect her faith just a little longer. So, no Dean, no one touched her that way. And you should also know, she died like she lived, fighting and believing in your love for her.”

Dean hugged you and broke down. “Thank you… Thank you for doing that for my Jo,” he blubbered. “You’re… You’re like an angel. Sam said that you know… yesterday he said that he thought you were some kind of an angel when he first saw you dressed in white. Wasn’t wrong.”

And you broke down with Dean. The night had descended upon you, as you both held each other in the darkness and just cried.

Much later, locked in the dining room, you drew the floor plans of the building from your memory, a map of the road and the way to the bus stop that you could remember, the names of the guards, physical descriptions, names of the girls, anything and everything you could think of. The maids all gave you curious looks. Getting along with a brother-in-law would be normal for most families, but an estranged brother-in-law who you had never supposedly met? Knowing the history they knew, that had to look shady.

As it turned out, Dean had been alternating between living in the Guest house in Sam’s room and a cabin further north that not many people knew of in the estate. He knew ways to sneak in and out better than almost anyone. Hired security was never too big a problem for him. He was to set out first thing tomorrow morning to see how he could use your intel.

“You know my roommate Carmen,” you said at the door when he was about to leave. “She might have been the only one to care for me back then. I fought with her the night before. If you can do one thing for me, find her and tell her she was right and I am so very sorry.”

“Of course.” Dean stepped up and kissed your forehead. “And Y/N, I’m going to get that bastard. Not just for what he did to Jo, but also for what he did to you. You said you didn’t fight after a while because you didn’t have a home, a family. Now you do. Remember that.”

You watched Dean head out. He would be gone before you woke up tomorrow, but you felt lighter than you had in years, like the weight of the world had been lifted off your shoulders. Upstairs, you found Abby in her room.

She stood up the moment she saw you. “Miss, is everything alright?”

“Yes, Abby. I was wondering if you knew when Sam would be back?”

“He was home earlier this evening but didn’t stay long. I believe he left for Colorado.”

Hurt. “Did he say anything about when he would return?”

“No, Miss.”

“Did he ask about me?”

“No, Miss.”

“Did he say anything at all?”

The pitying shake of her head was enough for you to turn around and return to your room. What if you had hurt Sam beyond fixing this time? Abby had been correct, he looked fragile, not just physically, but something about the fragmented look in his eyes, as if one blow could shatter him. What if your hurtful words and vitriolic accusation finally pushed him to the edge? How much bullshit could one man take after all?

You had stepped into this house thinking you would be used, and it was the most horrid feeling in the world. What if Sam thought the same now? That you had used him… used his home, his wealth, and his empathy. Hell, you had used his body, too!

No, you didn’t pray for yourself much. But in that moment you did- God, please give me one chance to apologise. Please.

*****************************

A/N 2: So turns out I was tagging all wrong :/ Ana is feeling sad about that. Hopefully, it will work this time.

Please do let me know what you think of this part. Reblogs and comments are what keep me going!

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amethystarachnid · 2 days ago

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A PLACE TO STAY - part II

⤷ STEVE G. ROGERS

ᯓ★ Pairing: Steve G. Rogers x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff, some angst, more fluff at the end

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.6k

ᯓ★ Part I

ᯓ★ Summary: one Olivia is officially your daughter it's time to show her what having a family means

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of abandonment and abandonment issues, reader discovers she's pregnant

ᯓ★ I'm so sorry I know you asked just fluff but I swear the fic wrote itself, and I will sure as hell write a second part where Steve and Y/n adopt Olivia because I'm crying.

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The days since you and Steve had decided to adopt Olivia have been filled with a blend of excitement, nerves, and a deep sense of certainty. It feels like the right thing to do. Every time you picture Olivia’s face—her bright smile, the way she clings to you for comfort, the way her tiny hands grasp your fingers with unspoken trust—your heart swells with love. The idea of offering her a stable, loving home is overwhelming, but you both know it’s what she deserves.

Today, after all the conversations and emotions that have led up to this moment, you and Steve are about to head back to the orphanage. It feels different this time. You’re not just there to spend time with Olivia. This visit is about making things official, about taking the first steps toward a new future—for all of you.

The crisp air of Brooklyn greets you as you and Steve step out of your apartment, bundled up against the cold but still feeling the warmth of each other’s presence. Every step toward the orphanage feels like it matters. Today, you’re not just visiting a child. You’re talking to the headmistress about adopting Olivia.

When you arrive at the orphanage, the familiar sight of the building brings both comfort and nerves. It’s strange to think that not too long ago, this place was just where you met Olivia for the first time. Now, it’s a place where your future with her is about to take root.

The moment you step through the doors, the warmth of the building surrounds you. Children’s laughter and chatter echo in the hallway, but your attention is on the headmistress’s office. You know that Olivia is probably somewhere in the building, playing or perhaps getting ready for her afternoon snack, but today isn’t just about her. It’s about speaking to the headmistress and moving forward with the plans to make Olivia officially part of your family.

You exchange a glance with Steve as you approach the office. His face is soft, yet resolute, the same warmth you’ve come to know in his every expression.

“She’s going to be so happy,” Steve says softly, his voice filled with the same tenderness that’s always there when he talks about Olivia.

“I hope so,” you reply, squeezing his hand. “I know we’ve talked about it, but… asking her feels like a big moment.”

“I think she already knows, Y/n,” Steve responds, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “She already looks at us like we’re family.”

With that, the two of you push open the office door and enter, greeted by the headmistress, who stands up as soon as she sees you. Her kind face radiates warmth, her smile deep and genuine. She’s always been welcoming, and today, that feeling is even more palpable as she takes in your presence.

“Y/n, Steve,” she says, her voice full of kindness, “it’s so good to see you both. I’m glad you could make it today.”

“Thank you for meeting with us,” you say, your voice quiet but filled with gratitude. “We wanted to talk about something important regarding Olivia.”

The headmistress nods knowingly, a slight glint of understanding in her eyes. “I can only imagine what this is about,” she says gently, sitting back down at her desk. “You’ve both been wonderful with her. It’s clear she’s formed a strong bond with you.”

You glance at Steve, and he squeezes your hand as if to reassure you that this moment, this conversation, is one you’ve both been ready for.

“We’ve been thinking a lot about Olivia’s future,” Steve begins. “And we want to make sure that if we’re moving forward with adoption, we’re doing it with her best interests in mind.”

The headmistress nods, her gaze soft but wise. “Of course. We always want what’s best for the children here. Olivia is a wonderful little girl, and I’ve seen her grow so much since you two started visiting her. You’ve brought a light into her life that wasn’t there before. She deserves all the love she’s getting.”

You smile, a mixture of relief and emotion filling your chest at her words. “We want to give her that love permanently,” you say, voice steady but your heart beating faster as you realize the magnitude of what you’re saying. “We want to ask her if she wants us to be her parents.”

The headmistress looks at both of you, a warmth in her gaze that only deepens. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. Olivia has always been a shy, cautious little girl, but over the past few weeks, I’ve seen how much she’s come out of her shell around both of you. She’s more confident, more trusting. She’ll understand the question more than you might think.”

Steve nods, though there’s a trace of doubt in his eyes. “We just… want to make sure she’s really ready for this. Before we go through any legal processes, we want to be sure that it’s something she wants, too.”

“You’re being very thoughtful,” the headmistress says. “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled. But it’s important that she feels like she’s part of the decision. The transition won’t be easy, but I can see how much she’s come to rely on you both. She looks up to you so much.”

There’s a slight pause, and then the headmistress leans back in her chair, her eyes twinkling with understanding. “I can’t think of a better family for her, if I’m being honest. And I know she’ll be happy with you. But asking her is the right way to go.”

The words feel like a confirmation, as if this is the final piece falling into place. It gives you the confidence you need to move forward.

You take a deep breath, and then glance at Steve, who nods again. You both stand together, ready to ask Olivia the question that will change all of your lives.

“We’re going to ask her now,” you say, your voice steady. “Thank you for your support.”

The headmistress smiles warmly. “Take your time. I’m sure it’ll go wonderfully.”

You and Steve exit the office, your hearts racing in unison as you head toward the room where the children are gathered. As you approach, you spot Olivia near the corner, sitting with a few other kids and playing with a set of building blocks. Her little hands are busy, but the moment she sees you, her face lights up.

“Y/n! Steve!” she calls, pushing herself up from the floor and rushing over to you both. The others around her giggle, some calling her name playfully, but it’s clear Olivia only has eyes for you.

You kneel down as she reaches you, and she practically throws herself into your arms. The weight of her small body in your arms feels natural now, like she belongs there.

“Hi, sweetie,” you greet her, brushing a few strands of hair from her face. “How’s your day been?”

“Good!” Olivia exclaims, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I make tower!” She holds up a small block, showing off the tiny structure she’s built. “Look!”

“That’s amazing,” Steve says with a smile, bending down to admire the little creation. He’s always so gentle with her, always so patient. You can see the love he has for her written clearly on his face.

But today is different. Today, you’re here to ask her something that will change everything.

“Olivia,” you say softly, your voice filled with warmth and care, “we need to talk to you about something important.”

She tilts her head, her brow furrowing slightly as she looks between you and Steve, her small hands still clutching the block in front of her.

“Do you remember when we talked about going home with us? About being a family?” you ask gently, making sure she’s following along.

Olivia’s eyes widen, and she nods enthusiastically. “Home!” she exclaims, her small hands clasping together. “Go home with you!”

You smile at her eagerness, your heart swelling. “We’ve been thinking a lot about that,” you continue, “and we wanted to ask you something. We want to know if you’d like us to be your mommy and daddy. If you want us to be your family. Forever.”

Her eyes search yours, blinking a few times as she processes the words. It’s quiet for a moment, and you wonder if she truly understands the weight of the question. But then, after a beat of silence, she lets out a little gasp.

“Yes!” she says, a huge grin spreading across her face. “Yes, yes, yes!”

You can hardly believe it. The joy in her voice is undeniable, and her little arms reach up toward you as if to prove it. You pull her into your arms, laughing with tears in your eyes.

“Are you sure?” Steve asks gently, his voice thick with emotion. “You really want us to be your parents?”

Olivia nods so enthusiastically it almost makes her dizzy. “Yes!” she says again, her tiny voice filled with joy. “Mommy, Daddy. Yes!”

You and Steve exchange a look of pure joy and disbelief. It’s as though everything has fallen into place—this little girl, who had been so cautious at first, now completely trusts you both to be her parents.

“Then it’s settled,” you say, your voice breaking slightly with emotion. “We’re going to be a family.”

Steve smiles, his eyes glistening with tears of his own as he hugs Olivia tightly, pulling you into the embrace. The three of you hold each other, the weight of what you’ve just agreed on sinking in. This is the beginning of something beautiful.

And in that moment, you know that Olivia has found her home. And you’ve found the family you were always meant to have.

The days after Olivia’s joyous acceptance of the adoption felt surreal. Everything was changing, but it was a change that you had longed for. It was a change that filled you with a sense of purpose and a warmth that made every moment feel even more meaningful than the last.

As you and Steve sat down to discuss the legal steps of adoption, you knew that this wasn’t going to be an easy or quick process. The legalities of adopting a child, especially from a system as large and complicated as the one Olivia had come from, would take time. A lot of time. It would require patience, paperwork, and plenty of legal representation. And while you were confident that everything would work out in the end, there was one thing that remained a little daunting: the financial side of it all.

But neither you nor Steve gave much thought to the cost. You both knew that money would come and go, but this—Olivia—was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. This was your future. The legalities, the bureaucracy, the long wait—none of that mattered when you had the love and commitment that you and Steve shared.

“We’re going to do this,” Steve said one evening as you sat at the kitchen table, papers strewn across it. “No matter how long it takes. No matter how much it costs. Olivia deserves this.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. The stack of forms was daunting, but it didn’t faze you. “We’re ready,” you replied, your voice steady. “We’ll get through it together.”

It wasn’t easy, and it certainly wasn’t fast. There were meetings with lawyers, phone calls with social workers, and stacks of paperwork that seemed to multiply by the day. It was overwhelming at times, but every step felt like it was bringing you closer to Olivia. Every time you signed a form or spoke with someone about the process, you felt more certain that this was the right thing to do.

In the midst of the whirlwind of legal meetings and paperwork, there was something else that kept you both busy—transforming your apartment to prepare for Olivia’s arrival. You’d always loved your space, but now that the thought of being a family was a reality, it felt more important than ever to make sure everything was perfect for her. Your apartment in Brooklyn had been cozy and inviting, but there was one room that remained a little underused—the spare room. It had always been a place for storage or an extra guest room, but now, it was about to become something far more important.

This room would be Olivia’s.

“Alright,” Steve said one Saturday morning as you stood in the doorway of the spare room, surveying the space. “We need to make it perfect for her. What do you think?”

You looked around at the room, which was still filled with old furniture and boxes that hadn’t been unpacked from when you first moved in. It felt like it had so much potential—like it was waiting to be something special. And now, with Olivia’s future in mind, it felt like the perfect canvas.

“I think it needs to be… pink,” you said, your voice full of certainty. “It’s her favorite color.”

Steve’s lips curled into a smile as he looked at you. “Pink, huh? I’m not sure I’m ready for a pink overload, but if it’s what she wants…”

“It’s not just what she wants,” you replied, your tone soft and affectionate. “It’s what she deserves. She deserves a room that’s all hers, a place that feels like home. A place where she can feel safe, loved, and special.”

Steve’s smile softened, and he nodded. “Alright. Pink it is. But we’ll need some other colors to balance it out. Maybe some white and cream? Light wood accents?”

You nodded, already mentally planning the color scheme. “Yes, exactly. Light and airy, but still warm and cozy. We can put a little white dresser with pink accents, and maybe a cream-colored rug. And for the walls—maybe a soft pastel pink with some fun, subtle wallpaper that has little hearts or stars?”

“That sounds perfect,” Steve agreed, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “I love the idea of making it feel like her own little world.”

You both spent the next few weeks going to stores, picking out paint samples, furniture, and little decorations. It was one of the most enjoyable experiences you’d had together. Every decision felt meaningful—the color of the walls, the design of the bedspread, the little stuffed animals that would sit on the shelves. Each little detail seemed to add up to something bigger than you could have ever imagined. This was no longer just a room. It was Olivia’s room, and you were making it a place where she would feel nothing but love.

One Saturday, you and Steve got to work. You started by painting the walls a soft, pastel pink, the color already feeling like it belonged. You laughed as Steve struggled to find the right angle to reach the top of the walls, his tall frame a bit too much for the small space. You stood on a ladder, rolling paint on the lower parts of the wall, exchanging playful comments as you both worked together to create a room that would feel like home for Olivia.

“You know,” Steve said between strokes of the roller, “I didn’t think I’d ever get this excited about painting a room. But this… this feels different. This feels important.”

You smiled, looking over at him. “It is different. This is her space, Steve. She’s going to have a place to call her own, a place where she’s safe and loved. And that’s everything.”

As the paint dried, you and Steve began to assemble the furniture—an adorable white bedframe with a matching dresser, soft pastel-colored bedding with little floral patterns. You hung up shelves, arranging stuffed animals and toys that you’d bought for Olivia over the past few weeks. There was a small rocking chair near the window, perfect for reading bedtime stories, and a pink area rug in the middle of the room that felt so soft underfoot.

Steve was putting together the final pieces when you stood in the doorway, admiring the room. It felt perfect—so inviting and full of love, a space where Olivia would flourish.

“We’ve really done it,” you said softly, your voice filled with awe.

Steve walked over to you, his hand resting gently on your back. He gazed at the room with you, his eyes soft. “She’s going to love it.”

“She already does,” you replied, your heart swelling. “We’re giving her everything she needs. She’s going to have a real home.”

Later that evening, after Olivia had returned from the orphanage, the two of you brought her to the room, her little hands grasping yours as you led her inside. Her eyes widened in shock and wonder as she stepped into the transformed space.

“Wow,” she whispered, taking in the pink walls, the soft bedding, the shelves filled with toys. She ran her hands over the bedspread, a smile spreading across her face. “Mine?”

“It’s all yours,” you said gently, kneeling down to her level. “This is your room, Olivia. You can play here, sleep here, and just be yourself.”

Her face lit up with joy, her small hands reaching out to touch everything in the room. “Pink! I love pink!” she exclaimed, her voice full of excitement.

Steve crouched down beside her, smiling warmly. “I’m glad you love it, sweetheart. We made it just for you.”

Olivia beamed at both of you, her little arms reaching up to wrap around your neck as she hugged you tightly. “I love it. Thank you, Mommy. Thank you, Daddy.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, and your heart swelled with an emotion you couldn’t describe. This was real. This was happening. You were building a life with Olivia—a family. And every moment, every decision, every laugh, every hug made it feel like the most beautiful thing in the world.

As Olivia giggled and bounced on her new bed, you and Steve exchanged a look. There was so much left to do—so much more to give her—but in that moment, you knew that this was the beginning of everything. This room, this life, this love. It was all for her.

And together, you and Steve were ready to give her the family she had always deserved.

The months since Olivia had become an official part of your life had been a whirlwind. What started as visits to the orphanage, cautious steps toward adoption, and days of transforming a room into a bright, pink sanctuary for her, had led to this moment. The paperwork was finally done, the court hearings had been completed, and after months of waiting and hoping, Olivia was now your daughter—legally, forever.

The day you got the final confirmation that the adoption had been approved was a blur of emotions. You and Steve sat together in your apartment, holding each other as you stared at the email, the news still sinking in. A few months ago, you couldn’t have imagined that this day would come so soon. The future that had once seemed uncertain now felt like a reality—a family forged in love, patience, and care.

“Olivia is our daughter,” Steve whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he held the phone up to show you the confirmation. “She’s ours.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you squeezed his hand. “She’s really ours, Steve. After everything, it’s real.”

Now, it was time to bring her home—truly home. No more visits. No more goodbyes. Olivia, the little girl who had captured your heart with her smile and cautious trust, was about to become a permanent part of your family.

It was a warm Saturday afternoon when you and Steve drove to the orphanage to pick up Olivia. The sun was shining, the city bustling around you, but none of that mattered. Your heart was focused on the little girl waiting for you. Olivia had already been told by the headmistress that today was the day, and when you walked into the orphanage to find her, she was already bouncing with excitement.

Her eyes lit up when she saw you both standing in the doorway. She didn’t hesitate for a moment, her little legs propelling her forward as she ran into your arms.

“Mommy! Daddy!” she squealed, wrapping her arms around you both in a tight embrace. The feeling of her small body pressing against you was something you never got used to—it was the feeling of home, the feeling of being exactly where you were meant to be.

“Hi, sweetheart,” you said, hugging her close, feeling the joy bubble up inside you. “Are you ready to come home with us?”

Olivia nodded enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling. “Home! Forever?”

You looked over at Steve, your heart full. “Yes, sweetheart. Forever.”

As you made your way out of the orphanage and into the car, the world outside felt different. There was a sense of finality, but also excitement. You could almost feel the air shift, as if everything had aligned just right for the three of you. This was the moment you had been waiting for—the day when Olivia would finally get to experience what it was like to have a real home, a safe space with two parents who loved her beyond measure.

The ride to your apartment felt like it took forever. Olivia chattered excitedly in the backseat, her tiny voice full of enthusiasm as she looked out the window at the passing scenery. “Is it big? My room? My bed? My toys?” she asked, her curiosity bubbling over.

“Your room is waiting for you,” Steve answered, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. “It’s just as you left it—pink and perfect, just the way you like it.”

You smiled at her, your heart swelling. “And we’ve got lots of toys and books for you to enjoy. We can play together, every day.”

By the time you arrived at the apartment, Olivia’s excitement had reached its peak. As soon as you parked the car, she was already unbuckling her seatbelt, eager to get out. You both helped her out of the car, holding her hands as you walked into the building and up the stairs to your apartment.

When you opened the door, Olivia stood frozen in the doorway for a moment, her eyes scanning the familiar space. It was no longer just a place she had visited—this was her home now, every corner filled with love and warmth. She walked inside slowly, her little steps careful, as if she were waiting for something to change.

“Do you want to see your room?” you asked gently, crouching down to her level, making sure to give her the space she needed.

Her eyes widened, and she nodded quickly. “Yes!”

You took her hand and led her down the hallway toward the room that had been waiting for her all this time. The door creaked open, and Olivia gasped, her tiny face lighting up as she took in the sight of her room—her very own room. The walls were painted a soft pink, the bed covered with a fluffy duvet, and the shelves lined with toys, stuffed animals, and books. The soft cream rug beneath her feet added to the warmth of the room, and it felt like a true sanctuary.

Olivia’s small hands touched the bedspread, the pink fabric soft under her fingers. “My bed… it’s so soft,” she whispered, sitting down gently, her eyes wide with awe. She ran her hands over the sheets, a sense of wonder filling her voice. “This is mine?”

“It’s all yours,” Steve said softly, his voice full of pride. “And it’s where you’ll sleep every night, sweetie.”

Olivia beamed, her little face glowing with happiness. “I love it,” she said, her voice quiet, as if taking in the gravity of the moment.

You sat next to her on the bed, wrapping your arms around her. “We love you, Olivia. This is your home now, and we’ll always take care of you.”

Over the next few days, Olivia slowly settled into the rhythms of her new life. At first, everything was new and a little overwhelming for her. She had never had two parents who looked after her constantly, never had a place where she could leave her things out without worry, and never had the security of knowing that no one was going to take it all away.

There were moments when she seemed uncertain, moments when she clung to you a little tighter than usual, but as time passed, she began to relax into the comfort of her new home. She knew she was safe here. She knew that Steve and you would always be there for her.

You and Steve took turns comforting her when she woke up in the middle of the night, crying softly for reasons she couldn’t always express. It wasn’t always easy, but you both understood that this was part of the process. Olivia was learning to trust that she would never be abandoned again.

“I’m here, sweetie,” you whispered one night as Olivia curled into your arms, tears staining her little cheeks. “I’m right here. You’re not alone.”

Olivia’s tiny hands clutched your shirt, her sobs quieting as she relaxed into your embrace. “Mommy… stay with me.”

“I’ll always stay with you, Olivia. We’ll always be together.”

And slowly, the nights became easier. Olivia began to sleep through the night more and more often, her dreams peaceful as she adjusted to the stability of her new life. During the day, she was full of energy—laughing, playing, and exploring her new home. She was becoming more and more comfortable with the idea of having two parents, and it filled your heart with joy to see her growing so quickly.

Steve was always there, helping to create routines that made Olivia feel secure. Breakfast together in the mornings, with the sunlight streaming through the windows as Olivia ate her pancakes and giggled. Afternoons spent playing games in the living room or reading books together, Steve sitting on the couch with Olivia in his lap as she pointed at pictures in the storybooks, asking him to read each word. Evenings spent cooking dinner together, with Olivia sitting at the kitchen counter, her small hands stirring the bowl of batter as you and Steve worked side by side.

Sometimes, when Olivia wasn’t looking, you’d catch Steve glancing over at you with a smile that said everything. The joy in his eyes as he watched his little girl grow more confident, more secure in her place within your family. It was a look you shared—one that said this was everything. This was what you had been waiting for, together.

Olivia had begun to call Steve “Daddy” without hesitation. It had been a slow process, but now, when she ran into the living room with a drawing in her hand, her eyes shining with excitement, she’d shout, “Daddy, look what I made!”

And when she ran into your arms at the end of the day, she’d whisper, “Mommy, I love you.”

There were still moments of adjustment, of course. Olivia sometimes had trouble articulating her feelings, and there were moments when she felt confused or afraid, but those moments were fewer now. With each passing day, she was learning to trust the love you and Steve had for her, learning to see you both as the safe haven she had always longed for.

One afternoon, as you sat on the couch with Olivia nestled beside you, her head resting on your shoulder, you thought back to the beginning. The first time you had met her at the orphanage, the way she had clung to you so tightly, unsure of the love you were offering. And now, months later, she was here—fully your daughter, fully a part of your family.

It had taken time. There had been struggles, doubts, and moments of uncertainty. But none of it had mattered. Because now, Olivia had a family who would always love her, who would always be there for her.

And you, Steve, and Olivia were finally together, forever.

Every day with Olivia brought something new—moments of discovery, laughter, and, occasionally, confusion. She was growing more comfortable in her new life, but there were still times when the weight of all the changes was visible on her small face. You and Steve worked tirelessly to make sure she felt loved and safe, prioritizing her happiness above everything else.

One of those days came during a trip to the mall, an outing you had planned as a fun adventure for the three of you. Olivia was still enamored with the idea of the mall after her first visit, but this time, you promised to let her pick out something special for herself. As you walked hand in hand through the bustling corridors, Olivia’s wide eyes darted from one brightly lit store window to the next.

“Mommy, what’s that?” she asked, pointing to a mannequin dressed in a shimmering pink dress.

“It’s a dress, sweetie,” you explained with a smile. “Do you like it?”

She nodded thoughtfully, her tiny face serious as she considered the possibilities. “Can I try it on?”

“You sure can,” Steve said, squeezing her little hand gently. “Let’s go see if they have it in your size.”

Olivia’s excitement bubbled over as you led her into the store. A kind salesperson helped you find the dress in her size, and soon, Olivia was standing in front of a mirror, twirling as the pink fabric shimmered under the lights. Her giggles echoed through the dressing room, and your heart swelled as you watched her revel in the simple joy of trying something new.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” Steve said, kneeling to her level as she continued to twirl. “Like a princess.”

Olivia stopped spinning and looked at Steve with wide eyes. “A princess? Like in the movies?”

“Exactly like that,” he replied, grinning. “But even better, because you’re real.”

Her laughter filled the air as she hugged Steve tightly. “Thank you, Daddy.”

Moments like these made the transition easier for Olivia. She was discovering a world she’d never known before, filled with kindness and possibility. But not everything was so straightforward. One evening, while you were all enjoying dinner together, Steve’s phone rang with a tone Olivia had come to recognize—the one that meant he was being called to work.

“No,” she said suddenly, her fork dropping onto her plate. “No, Daddy, don’t go!”

Steve’s brow furrowed as he crouched beside her chair, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Sweetheart, I have to. It’s my job to help people, remember?”

“But what if you don’t come back?” she asked, her voice trembling. Tears welled in her eyes as she clung to him.

Your heart ached at the sight of her distress, and you knelt beside her, wrapping an arm around her small shoulders. “Daddy always comes back, Livvy. He always will. You know how much he loves you, right?”

Olivia sniffled and nodded, but the worry didn’t leave her face. Steve pulled her into his arms, holding her close. “I’ll be back before you know it,�� he whispered. “And I’ll call you every chance I get. Promise.”

Eventually, Olivia let him go, though her eyes stayed glued to the door long after he’d left. That night, you let her sleep in your bed, her small body curled against yours as you stroked her hair and reassured her that everything would be okay.

Despite these challenges, Olivia continued to flourish. Her days were filled with new experiences, like her first trip to the park, where she discovered the thrill of swinging high into the sky, and her first attempt at baking cookies with you, which ended in flour-covered laughter and some surprisingly delicious treats. She was constantly learning and growing, her curious mind eager to absorb everything her new world had to offer.

But what she seemed to love most of all was simply spending time with you and Steve. Whether it was movie nights snuggled on the couch, reading bedtime stories together, or lazy Sunday mornings filled with pancakes and cuddles, Olivia thrived on the love and attention you both gave her.

One particularly chilly evening, after a long day of playing in the park, the three of you were bundled up on the couch, wrapped in blankets as a movie played softly in the background. Olivia was nestled between you and Steve, her head resting on your shoulder as her tiny fingers played with the fabric of your sweater.

“I love this,” she murmured sleepily, her voice barely audible over the movie. “I love being with you.”

Your heart melted at her words, and you kissed the top of her head, holding her a little tighter. “We love being with you too, Livvy.”

Steve reached over to brush a stray curl from her face, his eyes filled with warmth. “You’re the best part of our lives, kiddo.”

Olivia beamed up at him, her face radiant with happiness. Moments like this were what made everything worth it—the late nights, the tears, the challenges. She was your daughter, and there was nothing more fulfilling than seeing her feel safe and loved.

As time went on, Olivia continued to settle into her new life. She grew more confident and independent, but she never stopped seeking the comfort of your arms or Steve’s reassuring presence. She learned to navigate the complexities of her world, from the excitement of trying new things to the confusion of understanding Steve’s dual role as her dad and Captain America.

And though there were still moments of uncertainty, one thing was clear: Olivia had found her place in your family, and she knew, without a doubt, that she was loved.

For her, that was enough. And for you and Steve, it was everything.

The week flew by in a blur of cuddles, playtime, and quiet moments that made life feel impossibly full. Then came the invitation: a family dinner that would bring both your and Steve’s families together, all eager to meet the newest addition to the Rogers household. You were thrilled at the thought of introducing Olivia to her grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins, but as the day approached, Olivia grew quiet and withdrawn.

On the drive to your parents' house, Olivia sat in her car seat, clutching her pink bear—a beloved souvenir from her first mall trip. She was uncharacteristically quiet, her eyes fixed on the scenery outside.

“You okay, Livvy?” you asked, turning slightly in your seat.

Her little shoulders lifted in a hesitant shrug. “What if they don’t like me?” she asked in a small voice, barely audible over the hum of the car.

Steve met your worried gaze in the rearview mirror. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said gently, glancing back at her. “Why would you think that?”

“’Cause I’m not really yours,” she mumbled, her words tugging at your heartstrings.

You immediately turned to face her fully. “Olivia Rogers, listen to me,” you said softly but firmly. “You are ours in every way that matters. And our families are going to love you because you’re you. You’re smart, funny, sweet, and the most incredible little girl. They’ve been so excited to meet you.”

“Really?” she asked, her voice tinged with hope.

“Really,” Steve said, smiling warmly. “They already love you, Livvy. Just wait and see.”

The reassurance seemed to calm her nerves a little, but she still clung to her bear as the car pulled into the driveway of your parents’ house. The porch light was on, casting a warm glow over the scene, and the sounds of laughter and chatter floated through the open windows.

As soon as you stepped out of the car, the door opened, and your mother appeared, a wide smile spreading across her face as she waved. “They’re here!” she called over her shoulder.

Olivia hesitated, her small hand gripping yours tightly as you walked up the steps. Steve carried her overnight bag, his other hand resting reassuringly on her back.

“Hi, sweetie!” your mother greeted warmly, kneeling to Olivia’s height. “You must be Olivia. I’ve heard so much about you!”

Olivia glanced at you, her eyes uncertain. You gave her a gentle nod, encouraging her. “It’s okay, Livvy,” you whispered.

“Hi,” Olivia said shyly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your mother beamed, her joy palpable. “Come on in, everyone’s so excited to meet you!”

Inside, the house was a bustle of activity. Steve’s mom was setting the table with your dad, and your siblings were chatting with Steve’s sister. The moment Olivia stepped into the living room, she froze. Piled in the corner, almost spilling into the room, was a mountain of brightly wrapped gifts, each adorned with a bow or ribbon.

“That’s for me?” Olivia asked, her voice a mix of awe and disbelief.

“Of course, they’re for you!” Steve’s mom chimed in, coming over to greet her. “We couldn’t wait to spoil you!”

Olivia’s grip on your hand tightened. “But… why?”

“Because we already love you,” your mom said, her voice filled with emotion. “And we want you to feel at home here.”

Slowly, Olivia’s nerves began to melt away as family members took turns introducing themselves. She remained quiet at first, answering questions in single words and holding tightly to her bear. But as the evening wore on, the warmth of her new family worked its magic.

The turning point came when your dad crouched down beside her and asked, “Olivia, do you like games?”

Her eyes lit up for the first time since arriving. “Games? I love games!”

“Well,” your dad said conspiratorially, “I happen to be the best checkers player in this whole house. Think you can beat me?”

A small giggle escaped her lips, and she nodded enthusiastically. “I can try!”

From that moment on, Olivia blossomed. She played checkers with your dad, who “accidentally” let her win every game, and she insisted on showing Steve’s mom her pink bear. Your mom pulled out a photo album and sat with Olivia on the couch, showing her baby pictures of you and Steve, much to Olivia’s delight.

“Daddy was a baby too?” Olivia asked, her tone incredulous.

Steve chuckled, ruffling her hair. “Yep, even me.”

As the night continued, Olivia grew bolder, her laughter filling the room as she bounced between relatives, sharing stories and soaking up the love and attention. The mountain of gifts was slowly unwrapped, revealing toys, clothes, and even a pink tricycle, which earned an ear-piercing squeal of delight.

By the time dessert was served, Olivia was perched on Steve’s mom’s lap, chatting away like they’d known each other forever. She didn’t seem to mind that her grandparents couldn’t run and play the way she was used to; instead, she found joy in their hugs, their stories, and the simple act of being included in the family.

As you watched her interact with everyone, your heart swelled with pride. This was her family now, and she was already carving out her place in it.

Later that night, as the guests began to leave and Olivia’s energy started to wane, she curled up on the couch beside you, her head resting on your shoulder. “Mommy?” she murmured sleepily.

“Yes, sweetie?”

“They really like me,” she said, her voice filled with wonder.

You wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. “Of course they do, Livvy. They love you.”

“And I love them too,” she said, her words slurring as she drifted off to sleep.

Steve scooped her up gently, carrying her to the guest room where she’d be spending the night. As he tucked her in, he kissed her forehead, his voice soft as he whispered, “Goodnight, kiddo. Sweet dreams.”

As you stood in the doorway, watching him with Olivia, you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you. This was your family.

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h3r4life · 15 hours ago

Text

PART TWO WITH ON THE DRAMA WITH VIDEO PROOF (it’s funny because im still blocked too 😭 )

HER QUOTE. “Seriously?? AI?????? Accusing me of using AI to write my posts when you’re the one cobbling together your ‘content’ from MY ideas? AND YOU BLOCKED ME FIRST. HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO MESSAGE YOU????”

MY RESPONSE. Girl, let’s slow down. First off, I didn’t accuse you of exclusively using AI. I said that it’s common for people (myself included) to use AI as a tool, which you seem to think is beneath you. You’re out here acting like using AI for IDEAS and OUTLINES is some mortal sin while also pretending your content is so unique it could break an algorithm. Spoiler alert: AI generates patterns and SIMILAR themes / ideas, and if two people use it for ideas, similarities are bound to happen.

Also, let’s clear up the blocking narrative, you blocked me first. The receipts don’t lie. If you wanted a conversation, maybe don’t hit that block button the first chance you get and then cry about not being able to talk. I don’t have time for this performative outrage.

HER QUOTE. “AI? Really? Really??? My posts are written with too much chaotic soul energy for a machine to replicate.”

MY RESPONSE. The melodrama here is unreal. “Chaotic soul energy”? Okay, Shakespeare. If your writing is so chaotic and unique, why are there obvious overlaps between your posts and mine? AI doesn’t crash from overstimulation, and honestly, your argument is giving, “No one could ever possibly think of the same things as me because I’m special!” Hate to break it to you, but writing about common themes like parallel selves isn’t groundbreaking. Many people discuss these concepts, and the overlap isn’t because I copied you—it’s because the topics aren’t exclusive to your chaotic soul energy.

HER QUOTE. “Secondly, your argument is what? That I use AI, and somehow it’s spitting out ‘similar ideas’ to the ones you stole from me? How does that logic EVEN HOLD UP?”

MY RESPONSE. The logic holds up because, shocker, AI tools are commonly used to explore broad topics, and if we’re both using it (which you clearly are for some of your posts /ideas whether you admit it or not), similarities will happen. You’re acting like I stole the Holy Grail of posts when in reality, we’re both working with popular concepts that anyone could write about. Just because you’ve decided to gatekeep these ideas doesn’t mean you own them.

HER QUOTE. “If my posts were truly AI-generated, wouldn’t your copy-paste parade be the smoking gun?”

MY RESPONSE. Copy-paste parade? Let’s not confuse taking inspiration with outright plagiarism. I’ve NEVER taken your exact words (or any of your words for that matter, i used a tool, like you) Using AI as a tool, tweaking it, and creating my own voice isn’t copying, it’s called working. Maybe if you weren’t so busy playing victim, you’d understand the difference.

HER QUOTE. “Instead of accusing me of something so absurd, maybe spend some time creating something authentic. Not borrowed, not tweaked, not ‘inspired by.’ Authentic.”

MY RESPONSE. Ah, the irony. You’re accusing me of not being authentic when you’re the one losing your mind because someone else exists in the same creative space as you. Authenticity isn’t about gatekeeping ideas; it’s about expressing them in your own way, which I’ve done. If anything, you’re projecting because you can’t handle the fact that your content isn’t as untouchable as you think.

HER QUOTE. “And I tried to ‘proof-check’ my other writing through AI and it came back like this??? So???? Don’t know what you want to say.”

MY RESPONSE. So now we’re deflecting. If you’re running your posts through an AI detector, why? If you’re so confident in your “chaotic soul energy,” why are you even engaging with AI at all? It sounds like you’re trying to prove something no one asked for. If you’re not using AI, great, but don’t act like you’re above it while simultaneously running detectors on yourself. Also, AI detection works better in smaller chunks—so running smaller portions increases accuracy. If those smaller parts flagged, then maybe your “chaotic soul energy” isn’t as untouchable as you think. You’re doing a lot of unnecessary gymnastics here, but the math isn’t mathing.

HER QUOTE. “Forging AI detector is insane. Like borderline fucking psychotic??????”

Forging AI detector? Forging? Where is this even coming from? You’re spiraling, and it’s not a good look. I didn’t forge anything. You’re throwing out baseless accusations because you don’t have a solid argument. This whole tangent is giving desperation.

HER QUOTE. “I spend actual time, a lot of time, writing my posts. Every word, every idea, every sparkle gif divider is something I’ve put thought into.”

MY RESPONSE. Cool. Good for you. No one’s saying you don’t put effort into your work. But putting effort into something doesn’t mean it’s untouchable. You don’t own sparkle gifs or existential topics, and the fact that you’re so pressed about someone else engaging with similar ideas says more about you than it does about me.

HER QUOTE. “Meanwhile, you’re out here throwing stones from the glass castle of ‘copy-paste-and-block-and-I-use-ChatGPT-but-I-edit-it-so-I’m-better-than-you.’”

MY RESPONSE. Glass castle? More like a house of cards you’ve built with your own fragile ego. Using AI and editing it to reflect my voice isn’t me claiming to be better than anyone. You’re acting like using AI is some sort of moral failing while simultaneously pretending you’re above the tools I openly admit to using. That’s the thing—I said it was fine to use AI, but you’re the one putting yourself on a pedestal like it’s beneath you. That’s why I called it out. You’re out here acting like I’ve personally attacked you when all I’ve done is exist in the same space. If you’re this threatened, maybe the problem isn’t me.

HER QUOTE. “The real kicker is that people see this. They see the time I PUT in, the energy I bring, and the thoughtfulness I pour into EVERY post UNLIKE YOU who just confessed to using AI.”

MY RESPONSE. Ah, the classic appeal to the audience. “People see this”? Who are these people of such great importance? Your imaginary jury? The reality is, people see both of our work, and they can form their own opinions. If you’re confident in your content, why are you so bothered by mine? Maybe it’s because deep down, you know this outrage is performative.

HER QUOTE. “Trying to gaslight an entire community into thinking I’m the problem when all roads lead back to your lack of originality.”

MY RESPONSE. Gaslighting? Really? Disagreeing with you isn’t gaslighting. You’re throwing around buzzwords to make yourself look like the victim. No one’s trying to make you the problem—you’re doing a great job of that all on your own. That’s literally not what gaslight means, but okay. I told my side, and I’ll stand on that. I don’t care if you have more groupies than me—this isn’t about followers. The fact is, you didn’t communicate any boundaries to me, and then you blocked me. That’s not a conversation; that’s a power play. I’m not going to beg for your attention or try to get through a wall you put up. You made your move, and I responded. It’s simple.

Also, are we just gonna ignore the fact that you said I copied your beauty scripting? I’ve been doing that since 2023, and you know it. I’ve put in my own time into it, and you’re acting like I’m out here stealing from you. I didn’t copy you, and you know the difference between taking inspiration from a page theme (Also, asking for credit but blocking me is crazy. How am I supposed to have any kind of conversation about it if you’ve cut me off entirely?) and copying your writing. You’re disregarding the fact that I’ve been creating my own content for a long time, but you want to ignore that to make your narrative fit.

You’ve also conveniently ignored a lot of points in your “clapback,” like the fact that you accused me of using AI, but you didn’t seem to mind that AI was running your own posts through a detector. You want to throw stones from your glass house and act like you’ve got the moral high ground, but it doesn’t add up. The truth is, you’re trying to call me out for things you’re doing yourself—just with more layers of denial and projection. If you’re so confident in your “chaotic soul energy,” why even engage with AI detectors? Seems like you’re trying to prove something no one asked for. Just own it if you’re using it: there’s no shame in it, but don’t act like you’re above it when you’re doing the same thing.

THE VIDEO FOR YOU ALL TO SEE.

(Again, it’s fine to use tools like AI for help—there’s nothing wrong with that. But blatantly lying and trying to act like I’m “forging detection” is what’s truly insane. She never mentioned anything to me about not using her page theme, nor did she specify it on her page. In her first post about me, she said:

“this is such a case of being difficult for no reason. like, come clean and say sorry. but saying that i’m somehow in the wrong because in my ‘about me’ i didn’t specify what thing you can copy………..dumb. just dumb. brain dead. planting some stupid ass lies as if they make her look better ijbol.”

EXACTLY. So how was I supposed to know I couldn’t take inspiration from her page theme?! You NEVER express your frustration with me so how would I know that???? If you want to keep avoiding the points I’ve made and spinning your narrative, that’s on you. I’m standing by the truth, and I won’t back down just because you have a bigger platform. And girl, you blocked me first. Keep lying. I honestly don’t even know where this “call out” even was, so why would I block you? Show the evidence that I saw your “call out,” then blocked you please. You know that it didn’t happen that way.💀 I’m not on Tumblr like that.)

#reality shifting #shiftblr #shifters #shifting antis dni #shifting blog #shifting community #shifting realities #shifting #shifttok #shifting consciousness

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spacebaby1 · 1 day ago

Note

If you follow the new episode of one piece, i bet you know.

Law trying to get rid of phantom pain while he was dreaming or sick, he's dreaming about that day where he lose his crew

And reader trying to calm him down. Maybe Law didn't know it's them due to him still in panic and phantom pain act

You have no idea how much I love Law, and I miss him so much😭✋🏼enjoy!!

His pained moaning followed with small cries as if it was hard to breath for him became unbearable tonight; Law has been in so much pain ever since what happened; even when you both with the help on bepo managed to bring the crew to safety, the affect of that day was severe to Law.

As he slept fitfully, his body tossed and turned in his bed, followed by cries as if he was fighting to wake up. You rushed to his side immediately, caressing his head gently, "Shh, shhh, it's okay. You're safe, Love. You're safe."

His face was contorted in pain, brow furrowed, lips trembling as if trying to speak in his sleep, but unable to form words. In his dreams, the crew was fading away, like shadows swallowed by the ocean in a blink on an eye. He saw them one by one, falling; Bepo, Shachi, Penguin, all of them. His nakama, the people he’d sworn to protect, slipping through his fingers. They were screaming, calling for help, but there was nothing he could do. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he fought against the nightmare, he couldn’t reach them in time. "Wake up, Law. It's just a nightmare. Shh! You're saf-"

"NO!" he shot up in bed with his hand thrown at you with hard fall on your face, gasping for breath, drenched in sweat. His heart raced, his body trembling with the aftershocks of the nightmare. He tried to steady himself, but the image of his crew’s faces, their lives slipping away, was seared into his mind. He felt nauseous, his stomach twisting painfully. Unaware of the hit that contacted your face drawing blood from your nose, yet you didn't care because you knew he didn't do it on purpose. "Hey, hey" you gently cupped his face, he flinched away but the moment his eyes met your face in the dimmed lit room. He immediately went pale, realization dawning on him like a cold wave; he had hurt you.

“I-I’m so sorry…” His voice was thick with guilt, his hand reaching out to touch your face, his expression horrified. “I didn’t mean to hit you… Are you okay? I'm-I'm sorry."

You shook your head gently with a small smile as you cupped his face, not caring for your own injuries at this moment. “Shh, I’m fine, Law. Don’t worry about it, come here,” you replied. You could see the guilt written all over his face, and despite the sting from the unexpected hit, you didn’t want him to feel worse. “No, I—” Law began again, his voice low and pained.

“Love,It’s okay. Really. You were having a nightmare, don't worry about it ” you reassured him before taking a napkin and cleaning your face and turning back to him. “You didn’t mean to hurt me. It was just an accident.” You held his hand, and he immediately wrapped himself around you;

Law never acted in such ways, but it seems like the dream terrified him that he needed to gorund himself. He let out a shaky breath, his heart still beating fast as if he would pass out then and there. “I don’t know what’s happening to me,” he said under his breath, his voice quieter now. “It’s like… it’s like I can’t protect them anymore. " I’m losing control. I don't know what to do."

You held him closer. “You’re not losing control, Law,” you whispered, your fingers gently stroking the back of his head. “You’re just scared. And that’s okay. We all are sometimes. We are human, and it could catch the best of us, but you need to know that you are safe, we all are. It's okay.”

His breath hitched in his throat, feeling vulnerable. lile this was not the way he wanted you to see him, “I can’t lose them,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I can’t lose you.” You held him even closer, kissing the top of his head you spoke “You won’t. You’re not alone, Law. You have us. We’ll always be here. We are safe with you." He sighed on your chest, shutting his eyes as he wrapped his arms tightly, "I love you, I love you so much. Thank you, sweetheart. I love you." He kept repeating it until he finally fell back to a much more comfortable sleep this time. You made sure to hold him for as long as you were awake, still stocking his black hair gently.

#one peice #one piece headcanons #one piece imagine #angst #law trafalgar #trafalgar one piece #law trafalgar x y/n #law trafalgar x reader #law op #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x oc #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar op #trafalgar d law x reader #law trafalgar x you

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misswynters · 2 months ago

Text

Jinx having a gf who’s touchy and affectionate

requested. @luc1dw0rld

Jinx’s hideout was always filled with chaos, half-finished inventions strewn across every surface, faint scorch marks on the walls, and the constant hum of machinery that never quite worked the way she wanted. But today, it felt different. Calmer, almost peaceful. It wasn’t because she’d finally decided to clean up the mess. She hadn’t. It was because of you.

You were sprawled out on her couch, an old, tattered thing she’d salvaged from a junkyard, but it felt like a throne whenever you were on it. Jinx sat cross-legged on the floor in front of you, tinkering with a grenade she’d been working on for days. Your legs dangled over the edge of the couch, and every so often, your foot brushed against her shoulder. Each touch, light as it was, sent a warmth through her that she didn’t know how to handle.

“Y’know, I think I’ve got this one right this time,” Jinx muttered, her tongue poking out as she focused on the tiny screws and wires in her hands. Her usual frenetic energy was dulled and her movements slower.

“I don’t doubt it for a second,” you said from above her. Your voice was soft, laced with the kind of unwavering confidence in her abilities that always made her stomach twist in unfamiliar ways.

She glanced up at you, her eyes wide and unguarded for a split second before she remembered herself and looked away. “Pfft. Don’t go jinxin’ it, babe,” she said, forcing a smirk as she set the grenade down. But her voice lacked its usual sharp edge, softened by the way you were looking at her.

You slid off the couch and onto the floor beside her, your legs folding neatly under you. “Need help?” you asked, even though you both knew your technical skills couldn’t match hers. It didn’t matter. The question wasn’t really about the grenade.

Jinx tensed for a moment, her fingers twitching against her thighs. She wasn’t used to this. To someone just…being there. It was a different kind of tension, though. Not the kind that made her fingers itch for a trigger or her mind spiral into chaos. It was much softer.

“Nah, I’m good,” she said, her voice quieter than usual. But she didn’t move away when your hand rested lightly on her knee.

You smiled at her, that small, knowing smile that always made her feel like you could see straight through her defenses. “Alright,” you said, leaning back on your hands.

Jinx’s gaze flicked to your hand on her knee, then to your face. She could feel the weight of your affection in the smallest gestures. The way your fingers curled slightly, as if anchoring her in place. It was overwhelming and comforting all at once, a contradiction she couldn’t quite wrap her head around.

“You’re all…touchy, y’know that?” she said, trying for a teasing tone, but it came out softer than she intended.

“Does it bother you?” you asked, tilting your head.

Jinx hesitated, her fingers drumming against her leg in a rapid rhythm. “Nah. It’s just…weird. Not bad weird. Just…weird weird.”

You chuckled, the sound light and easy. “I’ll take weird weird.”

She watched as you leaned closer, your fingers brushing a stray strand of blue hair out of her face. The gesture was so gentle, so casual, it made her heart stutter. She wasn’t used to people touching her like this. As if she was something fragile, something worth handling with care.

“Why’re you always doing that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Doing what?”

“Touching me. Like…like that.”

You tilted your head, your expression soft but serious. “Because I love you, Jinx.”

The words hit her like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to do with them. Love wasn’t something she was good at. It was messy and complicated and full of things she didn’t understand. Whenever she was with you, her entire world felt simpler.

She looked away, her cheeks flushing a faint pink. “You’re such a sap,” she muttered, but there was no bite in her words.

“That means you like it,” you said, your voice teasing but warm.

She rolled her eyes, but the faint smile tugging at her lips gave her away. “Yeah, yeah, don’t let it go to your head.”

You didn’t respond, just leaned closer until your forehead was resting against hers. Jinx froze, her breath catching in her throat. She could feel the heat of your skin, the steady rhythm of your breathing, and it was…nice.

“You okay?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice shaky but sincere. “Just…not used to this. Feels…weird.”

“Weird weird?”

“Yeah. But, like…good weird.”

You smiled, your hand slipping into hers. Her fingers twitched, hesitant at first, but then they tightened around yours. She didn’t say anything, but the way her grip lingered said more than words ever could. For a while, the two of you just sat there, her hand in yours, her forehead still pressed against yours. The chaos of the hideout faded into the background, replaced by a quiet that was rare for her. It wasn’t the kind of quiet that came with loneliness. It was the kind of quiet that felt safe. Jinx absolutely loved the time she would spend with you. You are her world.

banner. @anitalenia

#arcane fluff #arcane fanfic #arcane jinx #jinx arcane #jinx x fem!reader #arcane masterlist #arcane fic #arcane x reader #jinx x y/n #jinx x reader #jinx x you #jinx imagine #jinx league of legends #arcane fandom #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #arcane x female reader

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uzurakis · 8 months ago

Note

hii! could you please do like after a really big argument it like gets to the point that the reader wants to break up with then and how they would handle it? i just request that choso is one of them<3

WANT US TO BREAK UP, YOU SAY?

featuring: choso kamo. gojo satoru. nanami kento. fushiguro megumi.

n. hi nonnie! thanku for the req. i usually don't write for choso, this is the first time i'm writing for him, i hope it doesn't stray out of his character. confession: i didnt proofread so.. enjoy </3

GOJO SATORU

the room was heavy with silence after your heated argument. you stood near the desk, arms crossed, emotions swirling. as for him, gojo leaned against the wall, his sunglasses off, revealing eyes that bore into you with a mix of frustration.

"this isn't working, satoru," you fidgeted your nails and shifted your feet. "i think we should break up."

he pushed off the wall, taking a step closer to you. "hell no," he said firmly, those blue eyes you know so well never leaving yours. "i'm not letting that happen."

you clenched your fists, anger and hurt bubbling to the surface. "you can't just decide that for me. we’ve been fighting constantly, and it’s exhausting.”

the man crossed the room in a few quick strides, stopping just in front of you. "we're not breaking up," he repeated, voice low and steady. "you're upset, i'm mad, and we had a fight, but that doesn't mean we break up."

tears welled up in your eyes as you met his gaze. "you don't get it, satoru. i can't keep doing this.”

he reached out, his hand gently but firmly grasping your wrist. "you’re not leaving," he said, his tone softening but still commanding. "we can fix this. together."

you tried to pull away, but his grip held you in place. "toru, this isn't just about one fight.” then his grip changed into him interlocking his fingers with you. “we keep hurting each other…”

his expression softened, but his grip remained steady. "i know, and i'm sorry, darling. but running away won't solve anything. i love you, and i'm willing to fight for us."

NANAMI KENTO

nanami’s expression remained calm, but you could see the tension in his eyes. he took a deep breath and walked over to you, his movements slow and deliberate. “please, sit down,” he said softly, gesturing to the couch. “we need to talk about this calmly.”

you hesitated, still seething with emotion, but his gentle tone made you relent. you sat down, crossing your arms defensively. nanami sat beside you, maintaining a respectful distance but close enough to show he was there for you.

“why do you want to break up?” he asked, his voice steady and soothing.

“like i said,” stating once again. unlike his, your voice cracked. “i feel like we don't have time for each other, not like we used to.”

he nodded, listening intently. “i understand,” he said, his tone even. “but breaking up isn’t the solution, sweetheart. we need to address it.”

nanami reached out, taking your hand in his. his touch was warm and reassuring. “every relationship has its challenges,” he said gently. “what matters is how we handle them. i believe we can work through this if we’re both willing to try.”

CHOSO KAMO

his eyes widened in shock, and before you could react, he crossed the room and wrapped his arms around you. his embrace was firm yet gentle, a stark contrast to the turmoil in your heart. “please, don’t say that,” he whispered, his voice filled with desperation. “you can’t just say that, baby.”

you struggled against his hold, tears streaming down your face. “choso, don’t hold me back..”

he held you tighter, saying soothing words despite the urgency. “i know it’s been hard for both of us, but never say that, i don't want to hear you say that again.”

feeling the warmth and genuineness of his embrace, you drew in a shaky breath and found yourself losing resolve. “i just, i don’t know what to do with us.” your voice breaking.

choso loosened his hold just enough to meet your gaze, his love and concern visible in his eyes. “every relationship has its struggles, but i'm sure we both can overcome them. i love you, and i’m committed to working through this with you. so please, i dont want to give up on us yet."

he gently cupped your face in his hands, his touch warm and reassuring. “i’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this work. are you?”

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

your boyfriend’s shocked eyes became wider. “what? no!” he took a step forward, expressing a mix of disbelief and urgency. “that’s not how you solve this problem.”

with a hand raked through his hair, he was clearly frustrated. "i understand that we've been fighting a lot, but splitting up isn't the answer. we have to discuss our concerns and work towards–”

“i’m fucking trying, okay?” you hurried to cut his explanation. “you always have a logical answer for everything,” biting your lower lip, is he seeing that you don't need reasoned answers? but simply, perhaps some reassurance? “but it doesn’t change how i feel. it hurts, and i don’t see a way out of this.”

megumi took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “i’m sorry.”

“…”

“look, i need you to hear me,”

“i don’t want to fight either, heck, i’m too tired to argue,” he gently pulled you into an embrace. “but i don’t want to lose you. i can't promise you, but we can find a way to make this better."

"let’s be patient and work through our problems one step at a time.”

@uzurakis

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flwrkid14 · 1 month ago

Text

Tim and Danny: Love, Trust, and the Weight of Protection

part 1

Danny knows what it's like to be hunted.

It’s been his reality for as long as he can remember—forever glancing over his shoulder, never truly at ease. Between vengeful ghosts, government agents, and countless other dangers, his survival has depended solely on his instincts, his powers, and the fickleness of luck. He has his friends—two best friends and a sister who would drop everything to stand by him, who he knows would always have his back. But the weight of that reliance feels heavy, a burden he can't quite shake.

Trusting others, truly leaning on them, has always felt like a luxury he couldn’t afford. He wants to feel safe, to let someone else take some of the weight, but the thought of putting them in danger because of him? That’s a risk he can't bring himself to take.

Then he meets Tim Drake.

At first, Tim’s protectiveness doesn’t faze him. It’s Gotham. You don’t date a Wayne-adjacent vigilante and expect anything less than a little paranoia. Danny’s been through worse. A tracker on his phone? Standard. Tim pulling files on his professors? Honestly, kind of funny.

But then, Danny finds out how deep it goes.

He stumbles upon a folder on Tim’s desk—his name printed neatly on the tab. Inside? Background checks on his classmates, neighbors and friends. Surveillance reports. A detailed map of his daily routine. Heart rate data. Sleeping patterns. Eating habits. There’s even a file on Phantom.

For a moment, Danny froze.

This should terrify him—it used to. Being watched, tracked for his every move, reminded him too much of those who hunted him, who’d wanted to tear him apart and dissect him like a lab rat. His first instinct was always to run.

But at that moment? He felt... safe. The notes in the margins weren’t cold or clinical like the ones his parents would have written. No, instead, they were worried. Make sure he’s eating enough. Possible threat? Keep an eye on this one. Look for ectoplasmic spikes—could mean trouble.

This wasn’t someone trying to control him. This was someone trying to protect him.

Tim’s not like the people who hunted him in Amity Park. There’s no malice in what he does. No intent to control or hurt. It’s all fear. Love, even. Danny can see it in Tim’s eyes when he stammers through an explanation, bracing himself for anger or rejection.

He’s scared Danny will leave.

And that’s what gets Danny.

No one has ever cared for him like this, no one willing to go through such lengths just to ensure his safety. Yeah, it’s intense, maybe unhealthy, even by the standards of a world that isn’t known for its normalcy. Danny knows Sam, Tucker, and Jazz would do the same—they’ve all put their lives on the line for him before, and he loves them for it. But Tim is different.

Tim is strong enough to face the dangers of Danny’s world and carry the weight of his burdens without hesitation. It’s something Danny could never ask his friends to do—not because they wouldn’t, but because they have their own lives, their own paths. They would drop everything for him, just as Tim would, but Tim does it with the resolve of a vigilante, already living a life where protecting others is his duty. This is someone who understands the risks, who’s already made those sacrifices, and still chooses to say, “I will protect you, no matter the cost.”

So, he smiles. He kisses Tim’s cheek. And he asks, “Can I put a tracker on you too?”

The way Tim’s eyes light up? Yeah, Danny thinks. This is love.

-----------------

The batfamily doesn’t get it.

They corner Danny one day, all serious expressions and careful words.

“Danny, we’re worried,” Dick starts, voice soft. “About Tim?” Danny tilts his head. “About both of you,” Steph says. “This… surveillance thing. It’s not normal.”

Danny shrugs. “Neither am I.”

They might understand—on some level. They’d lived through their own kind of danger, faced their own threats. But for Danny, it was different. They didn’t grow up being hunted, didn’t spend years hiding from people who wanted to tear them apart just for existing. For him, trusting the wrong person wasn’t just a risk; it was a matter of life and death.

Tim’s methods might be extreme, but Danny sees the intent behind them. It’s not control. It’s care. Tim watches his back because he knows what it’s like to lose people. Danny lets him because he knows what it’s like to be alone.

“Tim’s the first person who’s made me feel safe,” Danny tells them, voice steady. “You see obsession. I see someone who cares enough to watch my back.”

They don’t know what to say to that.

-----------------

Their relationship isn’t conventional. But in a city like Gotham, love isn’t always soft and simple. Sometimes, it’s vigilance. Sometimes, it’s knowing someone’s tracking your heartbeat because they’d die if it ever stopped.

Tim watches over Danny. Danny watches over Tim. It’s not about control—it’s about trust. About knowing that, no matter what, someone’s got your back.

The bats worry. They whisper about boundaries, red flags and healthy relationships.

Danny doesn’t listen. He knows what he’s got.

In a world where ghosts and vigilantes collide, where danger lurks in every shadow, Danny’s finally found someone who won’t let him face it alone.

And that? That’s everything.

#tim drake #danny fenton #danny phantom #brain dead #dead tired #dc x dp #batfam #tim and danny match each other's freak #is it really toxic if you're both into it?#danny just wants to feel safe and tim wants to make sure danny is always safe (specifically by always staying with tim)#now that's a little more toxic #but let's not get into that right now #maybe next post?#originally I wasn't going to include jazz sam or tucker #but they deserve more credit for dedicating their high school years to helping their best friend danny in such dangerous circumstances

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gojoidyll · 19 days ago

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He hates you, you surmised.

The man you married (for an alliance between the luofu and the yaoqing), Jing Yuan, hates you. And you are sure of it.

He wouldn't kiss you, hold your hand, touch you. Sometimes he even blatantly ignores you!

You were tempted to confront him in front of people, but ... you knew that he would be able to maneuver the situation easily. From what you could remember when you first saw him and got to know (before you both got married), he was could with his words, his tongue sharp and his words as deceiving as they come.

If you tried to confront him in public, then you were sure that you would be humiliated without a hint of remorse.

And talking to him in private never works either. He has a different bedroom than you and meanders about the house to avoid you when he is not being a general. And if you're seeking him out then he will even leave the estate and go elsewhere and give his attention to other people.

"Oh! Yanqing!"

The sudden call of his name jolted him out of his focus as he lowered his training blade. A smile on his lips as he turned to look at you and gave you a small greeting.

"Is something the matter?"

You pondered his words for a moment. He was far younger than you, but undeniably closer to Jing Yuan. Maybe...

"Does Jing Yuan hate me?"

Oh dear.

You definitely didn't mean to fire that question ar point blank range, yet here we are...

Yanqing quirked an eyebrow, his expression filled with questions, "no? Have you two got into an argument that has warranted such a question?"

Huh?

"Well, no, but he never talks to me. So even getting into an argument would prove difficult."

"But he says...," Yanqing composed himself and bowed, "apologies. I'll go find him and ask him now."

"No!"

Yanqing tilted his head to the side, but smiled nonetheless, "if I'm being honest with you, the General speaks highly of you. He gushes about you to Lady Fu and the rest of us all the time. So,... if he's not talking to you, then he may just be shy."

The General... is shy? And he talks about you?!

#hsr #honkai star rail #jing yuan #hsr jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x y/n

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rafesangelita · 3 months ago

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⊹₊⟡⋆♡ having a pregnancy scare wasn’t on rafe and pogue!sweetheart!reader’s to do list anytime soon.. but alas, here they are waiting to see if two pink lines will change the trajectory of their lives forever.

warnings: pregnancy, mentions of a breeding kink lol, super sweet fluff, slight humor, lots of crying

a/n: this is my not-so-subtle way of introducing babydaddy!rafe to my blog (i’ve been reading a lot of babydaddy!rafe lately.. yum) also just a reminder: pogue!sweetheart!reader is only pregnant in this fic alone. meaning any other works i create with her are not correlated with this one UNLESS stated so <3 you could keep up with this little universe under the second tag of this post: ‘₊˚⊹♡ pogue!sweetheart!reader & babydaddy!rafe’

w/c: 1.3k

“a-are you sure you’re late?” rafe was pacing back and forth, tears pricking your eyes as you flipped through your little calendar book. “yes! i look at my calendar everyday rafe, it’s been three weeks!” you sniffled, checking for the millionth time. rafe joined you on your bed, realizing he probably wasn’t making you feel any better if he was freaking out too. “hey..” he cupped your chin, “it’s gonna be okay, baby. what do you need me to do? ‘want me to go get some tests from the store?” you cried even more, the whole thing becoming too real all at once. “i don’t know! i don’t know what to do, ray!”

he sighed, holding you as you wept in his arms. “oh, baby,” rafe rubbed your back, “you know i’m going to take care of us, of you.” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. he wiped the tears from your eyes, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “i know.. it’s just— this is so new, and even though we don’t have a for sure answer yet, i feel like i really am. you know.. pregnant?” saying it out loud made rafe’s heart drop to his stomach. you saw the way his expression softened, his eyes flickering down to where you two held hands.

while it shouldn’t be too surprising, considering you two never use protection.. it’s still a delicate matter that rafe took very seriously. “am i gonna sound crazy if i say i hope that you are?” you took a breath, stroking the side of rafe’s face. “no. i want it too.” letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, he pulled you against his chest, embracing you once again. “why don’t we find out? ‘go to the pharmacy and get some tests?” you nodded, the anticipation already feeling unbearable. “okay.” you pulled away, getting under your knitted blanket.

“you’re not going with me?” rafe laughed. “are you joking? the owner has known me forever. if he see’s us buying a pregnancy test, he’ll—” you lowered your voice down to a whisper, “he’ll know what we’ve been doing..” your cheeks heated at the thought of the sweet old man who’s known you for all of your life checking you out for a test that indicates you’ve been doing a lot more than just baking cookies. “baby, if you didn’t live in the middle of nowhere, and far away from any kind of civilization, everyone on this island would know what we’ve been doing.” he winked.

at his words, you shooed him out of your camper as a giggle escaped your lips. he wasn’t wrong. rafe knew all the ways to make you scream and tremble in pure bliss. it felt like forever since rafe had been out, but one glance at the heart shaped clock on your wall, and it had only been ten minutes. you laid on your back, fingertips skimming your tummy. imagining a baby, half of you, and half of rafe, a result of two worlds, both full of so much love, colliding into one and making the most beautiful creation you were sure to ever see, made a smile grace your pretty face.

now you were thinking about a nursery, wondering if you’d be painting it baby pink or powder blue. either color was fine with you. sitting up, you looked around your camper, really seeing just how small it was. you and rafe barely fit in here together, let alone with a little baby that’ll eventually grow and want to run around. now you felt sad at the indication that you might have to move out of the only place you’ve ever known. this would change your life, but with rafe by your side you felt more ready than ever. just as you were going to call rafe and politely tell him to hurry up, he walked through the door.

“i wasn’t sure which one you wanted, so i just grabbed one of each.” rafe gave you the bag, plopping down next to you. there was about ten different tests in there, including a lot of the snacks you’d been craving over the last week. sour gummy bears, chocolate, and spicy chips mostly. taking out a pink box, you read the instructions before looking back at rafe who already had his full attention on you. “can you come with me?” without hesitation, rafe helped you up and guided you to the bathroom. “alright..” he leaned against the doorframe, watching as you unwrapped the test.

“i can’t really pee if you’re looking..” rafe had zoned out, thinking about house hunting already and wondering what kind of car seat would be the safest for a baby. “right, i’m sorry.” he turned around, swallowing the lump in his throat. rafe needed the confirmation just as much as you did, his stomach doing somersaults as he nervously bit his lip. “you okay?” he asked. you hummed, peeing on the stick before setting it down on a piece of toilet paper. washing your hands shortly after, you and rafe left the test in the bathroom as you waited in silence.

“my heart is beating so fast right now.” you laughed, on the verge of tears as rafe rubbed circles into the flesh of your thigh. “i want you to know something..” rafe whispered, “whatever those test results come out to; negative or positive, we’re going to be okay. i don’t want you to worry about a thing, alright?” your chin wobbled as you nodded, your head falling in the curve of his neck. you stayed quiet for the rest of the time, the timer on rafe’s phone going off. “oh, god..” you whimpered, motioning for rafe to grab the test. “don’t look at it, just bring it over!” you called out.

rafe walked back with his eyes closed, nearly bumping into the wall as his hands trembled with excitement. “where are you?” he kept his eyes screwed shut, in which you followed suit. “i’m right here.” you squeaked out, holding onto his wrists. “on three we’re gonna look down.” you nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “okay, i’m ready.” both of you smiled. “one, two, three—” both of you looked down, rafe jumping and running out of your camper as you stared down at the sight of two, very prominent, pink lines. rafe was shouting outside, the sound making you laugh as you took a seat on the couch.

“oh my god.” rafe poked his head in, your teary eyes meeting his. thankfully, he was able to read the room and calmed down a bit. “oh my god.” he repeated, kneeling down in front of you. “are you okay? are you happy?” rafe rubbed the side of your thighs, his touch providing a comfort like no other. “yes! i just can’t believe it..” you hugged him, his arms wrapping around your waist. “we have a lot of planning to do.” you sniffled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. rafe could already see it. the white house, the white picket fence, both of you were already two steps closer to your dreams becoming a reality.

“yeah, we do,” he agreed, “let’s just take it one day at a time, yeah?” you smiled, cupping his face. “i love you so much, this is crazy.” he kissed your lips before taking the test in his hands again. “a whole baby..” you were in utter disbelief. “maybe i should take the rest of the tests?” you stood up, taking the plastic bag with you to the bathroom. by the time you finished, the sun was already setting, both you and rafe staring at the approximately ten tests in front of you. all positive. “looks like we took the breeding kink a little too seriously, huh?” you looked up at rafe through his reflection in the mirror. “that was a good one.”

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pickingupmymercedes · 4 months ago

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Happy you're home - Lewis Hamilton

request : "their son is like 2/3 y/o and reader obviously pays more attention to him, even after coming back from work, so lewis is a bit 'jealous' and very clingy, needy with his wife." - fluff anon ✌🏽(gonna call you that because you were so lovely even with the confusion)

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Wife!Reader!

wordcount: +2k

a/n: There's a bit of angst , I know the request was for something fluff, but I just had to. It's worth it though, promise😉.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

"So, special dates?" Lewis asked casually as he leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Y/n stir the sauce simmering on the stove.

Y/n glanced over her shoulder at him, catching the hint of something beneath his tone. "Yeah, just little outings after I pick him up from nursery" she replied lightly, sensing where this conversation was headed.

"Outings?" Lewis repeated, pushing off the counter to walk closer, his eyes following her every move. "You make it sound so... exclusive."

"Well" Y/n teased, turning to face him fully "It was our thing while you were away. Just me and him. You know he's a little creature of habit."

Lewis crossed his arms, feigning nonchalance. "And what, he's not happy I'm home now?"

Y/n laughed softly, moving to grab a couple of plates. "He's thrilled you're home, Lew. But he's also two, and he's gotten used to our routine."

Lewis hummed, but there was a slight edge to his expression. "I just thought he’d be excited to see me. I mean, I picked him up, and he barely smiled."

"He's not used to you picking him up, that's all. Give him time." She set the plates down on the table and walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "He missed you. We both did."

Lewis softened at her touch, pulling her closer. "I missed you too. I just feel a bit... left out?"

Y/n tilted her head, studying him. "Left out?" She smiled, though she could see the seriousness in his eyes.

"I mean…" he admitted, a bit sheepishly. "It’s like every time I turn around, he's glued to you. And I get it, you're his mom, but..." He trailed off, his hand resting on her hip, thumb brushing absentmindedly against the skin he found just below the waistband of her jeans. "I guess I'm just a little jealous."

"Of him?" Y/n raised an eyebrow, trying to hide her amusement.

"Maybe," Lewis muttered, his voice low. "Or maybe of the fact that you two have all these moments when I'm not around."

Y/n's smile turned into a gentle laugh, and she leaned up to kiss him softly. "You know, you could join us on our little dates."

"Could I?" Lewis' eyes sparkled with the challenge. "Because it seemed like he wasn't too happy about me crashing those special times today."

Y/n chuckled. "We'll make it our thing—all three of us."

Lewis seemed to consider this, his hands tightening around her. "I don't want to just be the guy who shows up between races, Y/n. I want to be part of all of it."

"You are" she reassured him, kissing the corner of his mouth. "And trust me, he adores you. He just doesn't know how to express it."

He sighed, nodding slowly. "I know. I just hate missing out."

Y/n cupped his face, making him meet her gaze. "You're here now. And that's what matters."

As the rest of the evening went by the tension from earlier slowly dissipated. But Y/n couldn't help but notice how clingy Lewis was, not just with their son but with her too.

Every chance he got, he was touching her, keeping her close. When it was time to put their son to bed, Lewis lingered, his hands on the small of her back as she tucked the little boy in.

As they got ready for bed themselves, Y/n couldn’t contain herself anymore. She slipped into her nightwear, watching as Lewis pulled back the covers.

"So" she began, trying to sound casual, "you’re a little... possessive tonight."

"Possessive?" Lewis looked up; one eyebrow raised. "Is that what you call it?"

"Handsy would be a better word" Y/n teased, slipping into bed beside him.

Lewis smirked, leaning closer. "Maybe I missed you more than I realized."

Y/n rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t suppress the smile forming on her lips. "Or maybe you're still a bit jealous of a toddler."

Lewis didn’t deny it, instead pulling her into his arms, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Maybe I am. But can you blame me?"

Y/n laughed softly, running her fingers tips on his arm. "You’re ridiculous, you know that?"

"Um…" Lewis murmured, his lips brushing against her neck.

Before she could respond, they were interrupted by the sound of their son's cries coming through the baby monitor. Y/n sighed, moving to get up, but Lewis held her back for a moment.

"Does he really need you every time?" he grumbled, clearly frustrated.

"He's two, Lewis," Y/n reminded him gently, though there was a hint of impatience in her tone. "And yes, he needs me because that's all he’s got."

The words were out before she could stop them, and she immediately regretted them. Lewis’s expression shifted, something like hurt and understanding mixed on his features. "Y/n..."

"I’m sorry," she quickly apologized, her voice softening. "That’s not what I meant."

Lewis nodded, though the sadness lingered in his eyes. "We'll talk later, okay?"

Y/n nodded, leaning down to kiss him briefly before slipping out of bed.

She hurried to their son's room, finding him sitting up in his crib, tears streaming down his chubby cheeks.

"Dada?" he asked through sniffles, looking around as if expecting to see Lewis behind her.

Y/n’s heart melted a little, and she leaned into the crib, brushing his curls back. "Dada's asleep, sweetie. Do you want me to tuck you in?"

But their son shook his head, determined. "Dada."

Before Y/n could respond, Lewis appeared in the doorway, his expression softening as he saw their son. "Hey, buddy" he said quietly, crossing the room to pick him up.

The little boy immediately settled against his father’s chest, his tiny arms wrapping around Lewis’s biceps.

Y/n watched as Lewis sat down in the recliner, cradling their son with a tenderness as she have them some space, slipping out of the room and back into bed.

When Lewis finally returned, his footsteps were soft as he approached the bed. He slipped in beside her, pulling her close and leaving a kiss to her exposed shoulder.

"Has he been waking up like that a lot?" Lewis asked, his voice tinged with concern as he settled into bed beside Y/n.

Y/n nodded, resting her head on his chest. "For the past couple of weeks mostly. The change in routine really got to him."

Lewis sighed deeply, his hand gently tracing circles on her back. "I should’ve been here for his first days at nursery."

Y/n lifted her head slightly, about to reassure him, but Lewis's hand on her back stilled her.

"Y/n, don’t" he began, his voice thoughtful. "It’s not just about missing his first days. It’s the time you’ve had with him, but also the time he’s had with you."

She looked up at him, her brow furrowed slightly in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Lewis let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle. "I missed you, too. Not just the way I always miss you when I’m away, but I missed being a part of this routine. The bedtime, the little 'dates,' the way he clings to you... I missed seeing you with him, and I missed having you to myself after all that."

Y/n's heart softened at his words, a tender smile tugging at her lips. "Lew, you’re always part of those moments, even when you’re not physically here."

Lewis’s eyes met hers, full of emotion. "I know I was stupid earlier, but it's because I love being with you—both of you. And when I'm not, it feels like I'm missing out on so much. As his dad and as your partner."

Y/n’s smile widened as she shifted to lie more comfortably against him. "I missed you too. More than you know. And trust me, our little guy missed you like crazy, even if he didn’t show it."

Lewis chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest. "He’ll come around. I just have to remind him that I'm part of this whole 'special date' thing too."

"You will," Y/n assured him, brushing a soft kiss against his neck. "And as for us, we’ll make up for lost time."

He kissed the top of her head, his voice filled with affection. "You’re stuck with me, Mrs. Hamilton."

And as Y/n began to drift off to sleep, Lewis leaned into her hear, whispering almost to himself "I really did miss you. And I’m not going anywhere. Not for long anyway."

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TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf

@priopp123 @strqirlhrts @hmmmmm-01 @bisexual-babygirl-mj @bebesobrielo

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 scenario #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton #lh #lh44 #lewis #lewis x reader #lewis imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lh44 x reader #lh44 imagine #lewis hamilton x you

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nsharks · 20 days ago

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bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty-two —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 5.2k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: I'm sorry lmaooo nine months... hopefully we can finish this thing!

"Hold him close to your chest, or he'll jump out of your arms. Here—like this."

Blue gently cradles the rabbit, then carefully tucks him into Ari's arms, guiding his hands to scoop under Grim's fluffy rear. She can't help but find it amusing that the boy who had taken her riding on such a large animal yesterday looks so wary holding a harmless bunny. A giggle bubbles up, and she bites her lip to keep it in.

"He's so... squirmy."

Blue keeps her hand on Grim, reassuring both the rabbit and him. "He's just ready for his breakfast. Want to help me feed him?"

"Sure."

Blue leads Ari to the hutch where the other rabbits are. She explains her morning routine, showing him how to supply the rabbits with enough grass, leaves, and berries to keep them healthy and plump. Not long ago, she was explaining this to Twix—the very person she forgot to say good morning to in a rush to find Ari outside. This time around, she wonders if Ari is genuinely interested or just being polite. She finds herself stealing glances at his face, studying his expressions perhaps longer than she should. His almond-shaped eyes and dark pink lips catch her attention.

He's cute.

It's not the first time the thought has crossed her mind since these strangers appeared. Cute like the men in her magazines, though he's not quite a man. Not in the way Ghost is. But he's taller than her by a head and two years older, evident in the notch on his throat and the deeper timbre of his voice.

But it doesn't matter. They are only here for a few days.

Blue closes the hutch and rocks on the soles of her boots. "Well, that was probably boring, huh? We could, um, go hunting if you want. Or to the pond. It's fun to swim there. Or maybe—" She pauses, mentally sifting through the limited activities available, frustration creeping in as none of them seem particularly impressive.

"This wasn't boring. Now I know rabbits are just as friendly as horses." He smiles.

"They are... except when Grim gets mad. Then he can be a bit of a jerk. Like if you accidentally step on his tail."

"I'd be pretty pissed if someone stepped on my tail, too."

"You don't have a tail."

"It's just a joke."

"Oh..." she fidgets with a strand of hair. "Right."

"The pond sounds good. It is fucking hot." Ari blows out a breath and swipes at the back of his neck.

"I know. So hot. Hot as balls."

Ari raises an amused brow. "Yeah, uh, hot as balls. Are you allowed to go by yourself, or do we need to ask your dad?"

"I get to do what I want," she lies easily with a shrug. "Buuuuut, we can ask Twix to go with us."

As long as Twix is with her, she suspects she can get away with not asking Ghost, who luckily is hunting with his old captain. It's not that he seems distrusting with these people as he did those first few months with Twix. Rather—she isn't thrilled about him knowing every little thing she does. She's never had anything just to herself.

Twix is sitting on the porch, looking rather deep in thought as she skins a squirrel. Her hair is long, curtaining her face. When Blue asks if she wants to go to the pond, she agrees easily, claiming she has been meaning to cut her hair anyway with the encroaching warmth of summer. Nereida joins, too.

Even early, the air is sticky, and the pond is cool and inviting. Ari rips his shirt off and jumps in without even a second to waste. Blue usually swims in her underwear and shirt, but she hesitates with her thumb in the belt loops of her jeans. She didn't consider that he would see her in her underwear.

A soft touch to her shoulder. It's Twix. "Want me to grab you shorts real quick?"

"Um... yes. Yes please."

She changes into the shorts behind a tree. There is an odd pit in her stomach when she gets in the water. She doesn't quite know what it is, but it's similar to how she feels when she's scared sometimes. Ghost always tells her fear is a useless thing. It doesn't keep you alive. So she ignores it, shoves it down deep, and swims over to Ari with a purposeful splash that even wets Twix, who sits at the edge sharpening her knife.

"Damn. That's gonna cost you."

A splash is given in return, and then they are playing. High noon bounces shimmering light off the water as she tries to keep up with him, but at one point he sneaks up on her and she ends up with a mouthful. Nereida spends her time picking at some bunches of rosemary and Twix cuts her hair. But Blue doesn't notice any of that too much. When the water stills and they pause to catch their breath, Ari climbs onto a rock and shakes out his wet hair. She is quick to find a perch beside him. Absentmindedly, she pinches the bottom of her wet shirt to keep it from sticking to her chest.

"Woah. What happened here?"

Ari leans over to tap her thigh.

"Oh—" she looks down at the thick scar, "I got shot there."

"Shit. You've been shot before?"

She nods and he moves his hand. "That's your battle scar."

"Battle scar?"

He smiles, eyes gleaming. "It's nice to have some place to swim so close by. Back at our old camp, there was lake but it was a few miles away, so my mom rarely let me go."

"I'm sorry, you know. About your mom. Mine is dead, too."

He half-smiles. "Thanks. I don't think about it too much anymore. My uncle and I have always been close so it helped to have him there." He nudges her shoulder. "You're damn lucky to have such a cool dad, huh?"

"Ghost?"

"Yeah, that guy is a beast. My uncle says they called him Ghost because no one could ever see him coming before suddenly, they were dead."

"Oh, yeah, he is super cool," she quickly agrees. "He has taught me a lot."

"Shit, really?"

Nibbling the inside of her cheek, she shrugs to feign indifference. "I know how to throw knives pretty well."

"I gotta see that." His smirk etches a light dimple into his cheek. Then, his eyes flash behind her. "So what's up with his girlfriend?"

"Huh?" A divot forms between her brows before she follows his gaze, landing on Twix, whose hair is now just past her shoulders. She is wetting it, running her fingers through the newly cut strands. "Oh—Twix. That is not his girlfriend. She is my friend."

"You mean they don't sleep together?"

"Like in the same bed?"

"That's usually where people fuck, yeah."

He seems ready to laugh. She frowns, head tilting as confusion hums in her chest. "You mean like sex?"

He nods. "You know what that is, right?"

"Yeah, of course. I know all about it."

"You know they're probably doing it, right?"

"Ghost and Twix? No—no," she forces a laugh. "I mean, sometimes I catch him staring at her all weird. But I don't think—I mean, they hardly like each other and she is my friend, really, not his. He used to make me stay away from her, even. But I mean, they do spend a lot of time together now. It's usually to practice fighting and defense. Not to have...sex."

"Don't they share a room?"

"Just right now, because you guys are here."

Ari chuckles. "You really think they aren't fucking in there? She's really pretty. There's no way they aren't."

Blue looks back at Twix. Blue's fingers curl into the soaked fabric of her top. Her eyes flick back to him. "She would've told me if they were."

"If you say so."

Your thumb throbs in rhythm with the steady pump of Kyle's arms. Despite pressing it into your palm to dull the pain, the ache persists. You had nicked it while sawing off your hair, and now the taste of blood lingers in your mouth. You were still lapping at the painful pulse when the three men arrived to the pond, carrying a neon orange inflatable raft. They want to test it out on the water before embarking on the 35-kilometer journey across the channel.

It is the third day of their presence and you can honestly say you've grown more comfortable, given that Kyle has gone hunting with you a few times now. He is easy to talk to, along with Nereida. Price—however—doesn't seem intrigued by you, or maybe you are insignificant in comparison to the rest that is on his mind. That's fair. You don't all need to be friends.

They've been spending most of their time gathering food. Ghost has been helping Price hunt deer to skin and dry into jerky they can take with them. Nereida showed you a patch of wild strawberries she found yesterday, boiling them down into jams before canning them. By having food with them, they will save time from having to hunt along the way. In perfect conditions, it would be a straight path, and they could make it to the Swiss mountains within a month or two. But it won't be a straight path, and obstacles are bound to hinder them.

Kyle audibly growls and straightens, wiping at his percolated brow. "This chamber just isn't inflating."

"It must have a hole somewhere. Check the seams," Price says.

Ghost flips the half-filled raft over with ease, running his fingers along the PVC. "Here." He taps what must be a minuscule puncture because you can't see it from where you sit.

They patch it up with the little adhesive they have. The unease is noticeable as Kyle keeps pumping in air; they only have enough to cover a few holes, if they come across more. Finally, the six-person raft is full and they toss it onto the pond. Just the sight gets you thinking of all the variables they have to think of on the open water: the weather, currents, temperature. You had a friend in high school who swam across it once. She didn't get even halfway but having to pulled out, vomiting, and near-hypothermia. Open seawater is different than a pool. Unpredictable and quick to change.

"It seems sturdy." Nereida winds an arm around her husband's waist, pressing a chaste kiss to the underside of his jaw. "Don't worry about it."

"As long as it stays sturdy."

"It will," she assures him.

The cut has crusted over by the time evening settles and you have to will yourself not to pick at it. You find yourself alone with the horse, watching the sun set behind the trees, as everyone else eats.

"You probably don't like being tied up here, huh? You'd rather be running around." The coarse mane engrosses your fingers. Cherry bobs her head and a wet muzzle brushes your elbow. It tickles and you smile softly. "I wonder what will happen to you once they leave," you whisper. "Horses can't fit in a raft, huh?"

"No, they can't."

A hand presses into her neck beside yours, the person's arm extending over your shoulder. You crane your neck at Kyle but his eyes are on the animal, thoughtful, brows lowered. You wet your lips and step to the side to bring more space between your bodies.

"Not hungry either?" you ask.

Finally he looks at you, lips quirked at the side. "Nah. I had a big lunch." He stops petting her and crosses his arms, chin tilting. "Ever ridden a horse before?"

"Once or twice. As a kid."

His eyes almost lean dark green in the cast of orange light, but it must be a mere illusion. "Care to go for a ride?"

His eyebrow rises expectantly. You glance back at the cabin and then at Cherry. "Why not?"

He instructs you how to get on. You grip the knob of the saddle and flex your core, hoisting yourself with more strength than you've had to use in a few days. Kyle sits behind you and grips the reins after untying her. The last time you were on a horse was for a friend's birthday party; you trekked through a ranch on a white pony. Cherry is much taller than that one was, or maybe you're not fond of being so high up. You thread your fingers through her mane.

It is a silent ride at first as you try to ignore the sting on your butt, unused to firm leather seat. He must notice your discomfort because he tells you to relax and lean back. You do, until your spine brushes against his chest. It helps a little.

Cherry trots calmly through the trees, towards the circle of stumps that marks the east.

"Do you think she will be able to take care of herself?" you break the quiet.

"I'm sure she will be fine. Smart girl, huh, Cherry?"

The sun has disappeared but it isn't quite dark yet. "Are you scared?"

A breathy chuckle emits from behind you. He must realize what you are referring to—scared for the journey. "Yeah, always. I mean—I'm scared about Ari. He's the last family I got, and as old as he thinks he is, he's still young and naive. I still have to make choices for him."

"I was terrified of losing Joseph," you admit, and swallow. "He was so young and fragile. It felt like...like trying to keep an egg from cracking when your hands are made of stone. But at least I never had to take him to another country."

"That was your nephew? Joseph?"

You nod.

"Tell me about him."

You rack your brain. "Well, he was seven. And he..." You smile to yourself. "He was the pickiest eater in the world, even when we were all starving. I could not get him to eat meat unless I practically burned it. And he liked to look at bugs. I did, too, when I was young. I used to dig up worms when it rained to show him." He hums a gentle laugh behind you. You find yourself lost in the thought of it for a second. "Sometimes I...I think about how once I die, there will be no one left to remember those little things about him. Then, he will be completely gone, you know?"

You don't know why you're telling him this. You shake your head. "Sorry."

"Don't be. We gotta talk about shit like that or else we'll go crazy."

"I'm pretty sure I'm already crazy."

"Probably." A deer passes to the left and Cherry startles, but he is quick to soothe her with a flick of the reins and a stern—easy. She settles. "Are you scared?" he asks after a moment.

"Of what?"

"Of traveling so far."

"Well, I don't know if Ghost..." you trail off, absorbing the tone of his voice. You stiffen. "Wait, what do you mean?"

"I mean how we're all leaving in a month."

"Wait—stop." You grip his hand over the rein with more force than necessary, urging him to bring Cherry to a halt. You twist your spine and gape at him. "What are you talking about?"

He eyes you with a frown, and rubs his neck. "Shit. I thought he already told you."

"No, he didn't. Tell me," you demand.

He clears his throat. "He, uh, agreed to come this morning, but only if we take another month to prepare and shit. Get his daughter ready, sort things out."

You try not tremble in anger as his words sink in, clenching your hands as your breath picks up. "Take me back," you breathe out, brain racing. "I want to go back now."

The ride back is silent. You feel shaken. Your nail digs deep into the nick on your thumb unthinkingly until there is a smear of blood over your fingers. The others are getting ready for bed when the two of you return, moon bright. You bite your tongue until Ghost leaves to his room, then you follow him, closing the door as gently as you can behind you.

He is halfway through peeling off his socks and stuffing them in his boots when you approach. "What happened to being a man of your word?"

He looks up, resting his palms on his parted knees, looking far too relaxed for your liking.

When he doesn't respond, you add, "You were supposed to tell me. You said you fucking would."

Your voice is low but harsh.

He stands, a calm understanding washing through his eyes. "I was about to tell you."

You throw up your arms but try to stay quiet. "Bullshit. You're just saying that now. You've had all day to tell me."

"I was waiting for the right time."

"You think I can't handle it," you accuse, an ugly snarl on your face. "That I don't deserve to be apart of these conversations even after everything I have done for you, and for her. I saved her life! You get pissed at me for not telling you about stupid things, meanwhile you don't communicate something so important like we are leaving with them in a month to fucking Switzerland. Does Blue know? Or do you keep your own blood in the dark, too?"

He growls quietly and takes hold of your chin, tilting your gaze to his. His touch is firm but far from bruising. "I am not lying to you. I wanted to have a conversation right now, where it could just be us. And no—I haven't told her. How I explain this to my child is not your concern." There is a command in his voice that forces you to calm down some, but your breath is still warm through your nose. He moves his hand to gently thumb a strand of shortened hair off your forehead, staring at it for a second, before gripping your chin again. "There is nothing I think you cannot handle. Now, who told you about this?"

Blotches of red crawl over your cheeks. "It doesn't...it doesn't matter."

He is visibly unsatisfied. He taps his thumb against your chin. "Tell me."

"It was...Kyle," you concede in an exhale. "He assumed I already knew."

His eyes darken. "It wasn't his place to assume."

"He didn't mean to." You reach up to pry his hand off, and he relents, leaving your jaw feeling sore. You rub it. "Why a month?" You try to change the topic.

He takes a deep, steadying breath and looks away, jaw flexing. "She needs time. I want to prepare her for all possible outcomes. I still don't think she is ready, but that doesn't matter. There won't be another opportunity like this in the future. I have to make her ready." He sits down on the edge of the bed and sits his elbows on his thighs, collecting his thoughts before adding, "And the weather is a big factor. Just because we have means to get across the water doesn't mean it will happen safely. The current is most predictable in July and August. We will wait until then."

You mentally sort through everything he is saying, willing yourself not to linger on the fact that you are beyond scared. Scared to leave the place you have finally felt safe in. Scared to clearly be the odd one out again. A tag-along. Everyone else in this group has a loved one looking out for them. You have yourself. You don't know if you have Ghost, really—not when Blue is the one he loves. His allegiance can only go so far.

"Okay," you whisper, more to yourself than to him. "A month, then. What about shelter? The nights will be our most vulnerable."

"We'll look for the safest places for the night. There'd be seven of us, so plenty of eyes to keep watch."

"And what if we run into a horde?"

"Well, we have plenty of ammo now for that." He flicks his eyes up to yours. "Thanks to you."

You nibble your cheek, palming your chest as if to calm your heart.

"A month," he reminds you. "We will account for everything."

"Okay," you say again. There is a tinge of embarrassment over your outburst, but he doesn't seem fazed, as if you hadn't just barged in the room yelling at him. "Okay."

A click of his tongue. "Any more questions?"

"Not...not for now, I guess."

A few silent beats pass. The tension has left the room, leaving you with a wave of fatigue. Ghost must notice because he rises, gesturing to the bed. "Go on, then."

The bed is yours again. Too exhausted to question it, you slip under the quilt, curling into a fetal position by the slanted ceiling. It's best to enjoy the warmth before you're back on the move. A week journeying through the woods was the worst you'd ever endured, barely surviving. Now, it'll be months, or however long it takes to reach the goddamn Swiss mountains.

The light flicks off. There is a groan in the mattress and heady warmth spills over you. Your eyes fly open. "What are you doing?"

"Getting some sleep."

You turn around to see him lying beside you, flat on his back, with his arms crossed behind his head. "Together?"

"Clearly neither of us fancies the floor."

You flush, feeling his firm thigh brush against yours. "Just... keep to your side."

"I'll be a gentleman, if you're worried."

"I'm not," you mumble. "How do you even sleep in that thing, by the way?"

"Like a baby."

"Don't you think it's weird that Kyle has seen you without it and I haven't?"

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Twix."

"And mental sanity doesn't suit you, Simon."

"Don't recall giving you permission to use that name."

"What, only your old captain gets to use it? How close were the two of you, exactly?"

Teasing him feels better than you're willing to admit.

He grunts. A pillow is thrashed against the side of your face. "Go to sleep."

"Yes, sir," you bite into the pillow.

Your instinct is to flinch closer to the edge, though it is difficult given the small size of the bed and the unnatural size of him. Your knees float off the mattress. Still, his sprawled-out position leaves points of connection. Your back, his elbow. Your feet, his calf. Small touches that do a surprisingly good job at soothing the mess in your brain.

You awake. Warm and rested.

Safe.

Morning light streams in, turning the backs of your eyelids red. Your face nudges forward until your nose brushes against fabric—a shirt. Awareness settles in slowly. Your toes stretch and brush against another set of toes. You realize you’re curled close against someone.

He’s still on his back, his right arm draped across your waist, fingertips resting on your exposed hip. Your breath hitches, and you do your best not to flinch. Your face is nuzzled into his chest, close enough to discern ribs from muscle. His steady breathing and gentle rumbles indicate he’s still asleep. You’re ready to peel yourself away when you notice your leg is on top of his, practically trapping him.

Fuck.

You stay still, devising a plan to extricate yourself without him noticing the position you're in. Then, in one swift motion, you leap up, removing all contact, and breathe hard as if ripped from a nightmare.

His eyes open and he swears. "Jesus. What was that?"

"Just a dream," you lie. "Sorry for waking you."

You jump out of the bed and practically run out before he can say anything; before he can realize how odd it'd be for you to have a dream when you haven't had one since... since staying in his room.

You lock yourself in the bathroom and grip the counter, knuckles whitening in the attempt to erode the feel of his warmth that seems to linger. A lump is forced down your throat as you lean back against the wall and close your eyes for a moment. When they reopen, you look down and lift your shirt, only to find the indent of strong fingertips brandishing your plush hip. Jesus. Your stomach knots and unknots.

"You didn't like that," you whisper to yourself. You brush your thumb over the marks, gently at first, then palming them hard as if to erase them. You drop your shirt and look at the mirror. "You did not like that."

Before someone can stumble upon you talking to yourself, you comb your fingers through tousled strands and slip out. It seems most others are awake. How could you and Ghost have slept so long? Usually, the two of you are up with the sun.

"Hey. Morning," you greet when you spot Blue on the porch, belly down, as she plays checkers with Kyle's nephew. She glances over her shoulder. Something in her bright eyes seems...off, but you can't put your finger on it.

"Hi. Is Ghost up yet?"

"Hm? Oh, uh—not sure. I didn't check, really."

"Okay." She looks back at the game and says nothing else. You feel as though she saw right through you. Or maybe that boy has told her everything. Surely he knows about Ghost's plans? Kyle had to have told him. Maybe that is why Blue seems upset, but like he said, it isn't your place to say anything.

You are itching for a hunt.

It feels urgent, for some reason. Like you want to get out of here before Ghost can be up, too. You find Kyle and he suggests that the two of you take Cherry so you can get go further south where he claims there is a meadow to look for deer. It is difficult to ride with him behind you and a bow on your back, so he wears it for you. You can feel his eyes on the back of your head.

"Awfully quiet this morning. Penny for your thoughts?"

"I talked to him," is what you give. "Last night."

"Ah. How'd that go?"

"It was fine. I mean, I am getting used to the idea."

"That's good. It'll be worth it, you know. Once we get there. Finally get to have a semblance of a normal life."

A normal life. You almost snort at the thought.

The morning grows longer, and not even the haircut can save you from the sweat that gathers. You make it to the meadow after an hour of horseback that leaves your thighs bristling. He helps you down and ties Cherry to a tree. You wade through tall, bright grasses that sway in the humid breeze. It looks vaguely familiar, stirring something in your gut that has your boots frozen for a moment.

Kyle looks back at you, noticing that you've stopped following. "Good?"

"I just—I think I've been here once before. When I was on my own. I came this way." Your eyes scan the surrounding trees, where the meadow feeds into the forest, and an a gnarly oak with distinctive branches catches your eye. "I definitely have been here. I slept in that tree."

You push into the meadow, shaking off the memory. Staying close to Kyle, you listen as he lightly shares memories from the military, careful not to startle any potential deer. He talks about his time in Afghanistan, mentioning that his brother was also there, but at a different base. Kyle didn't even know his brother had died until weeks later because he was out in the field.

"After Afghanistan is when I met Ghost the first time."

"Oh?"

He nods. "He was my lieutenant when I went to Russia. I was scared shitless of him at first. I mean, he had a bit of a reputation and I was only 22."

"He was good at what he did," you say.

"More than that. People said he was up to some shit outside of what he did, but that was just rumors."

You think you spot a streak of gold through the grass, but it is just a stalk of wild wheat. You look back at him. "What do you mean?"

"May have heard a thing or two about him killing a guy off-duty. Of course, unconfirmed, otherwise he wouldn't have been enlisted again."

He killed someone? Like actual murder? You're about to ask more, your mind flashing back to your face pressed against him an hour earlier. Then you spot a deer. Kyle sees it too and motions for you to stay quiet. Your boots are nearly silent as you draw an arrow, squinting to see clearer. There are three deer: an adult female and two fawns. You draw the string and aim for the adult, the easier target.

"I'll get the doe," you whisper.

"Gotcha."

The beady black eyes turn your way, and you hesitate for a moment. There's movement, a flash of grey, and the doe snaps her eyes in another direction. What is she looking at? Your brows furrow, arrow following her gaze, when the answer appears: a Grey launching toward the deer. The three deer run off, and you release the arrow, aiming for the Grey's head instead.

"Motherfucker. Ruined the kill," Kyle mutters.

You weave toward the corpse, surprised to see such a fast one alone, indicating a new infection. The stench is pungent, enveloping you in a thick cloud. You shudder. The Grey writhes, your arrow lodged in its neck instead of its brain. You draw another arrow and aim when a hand suddenly grips your shoulder.

"Twix," Kyle breathes in your ear.

"What?"

You look away from the Grey and follow Kyle's gaze, your eyes widening in horror as you realize the terrible smell isn't from this single creature. It's hundreds. A dark, grey mist that unfurls through the trees. A growing chorus of agony as their tattered bodies collide—some limping, others hurtling forward in a grotesque dance, but all converging on the meadow.

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #cod #zombie apocolypse au

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iidrk3i · 6 months ago

Text

☆ ACTIONS OVER WORDS

hq -- tsukishima kei x gn!reader

summary: tsukishima kei doesn't know how to say he's sorry. so instead, he tries apologizing in a different way.

warnings: a bittt angsty but fluff in the end, brief food mentions, tsukki calls reader overbearing, nothing too much :)

word count: 768

there he was, sitting on the couch with his head lolled on the headrest. what had started as a small disagreement between the two of you became a heated argument, which resulted in tsukishima calling you overbearing.

in your defense, you were just reminding your boyfriend to eat his meals everyday. this was the third time this week that you had reminded him, but something about today really ticked him off.

after tsukishima had gotten the last word in, he caught a glimpse of your face before you headed off into your shared bedroom. it was clear that you were upset with him, and you had every right to be. you weren't being overbearing at all. you were just being the kind person that he fell in love with. the person who looked out for everyone that they loved.

tsukishima looked at his phone. 6:43pm. he’s been sitting on the couch for a good 15 minutes trying to think of something to say to you. he wanted to say something sincere, something that would be genuine, but no matter how hard he thought, no matter how long he sat and waited for something to come to him, nothing was coming to mind.

that’s when tsukishima thought of a different tactic.

he had gone online and searched up your favorite take out place, ordering something for the both of you. once the food had arrived, tsukishima finally built up the courage to knock on the bedroom door. when he was met with silence, his hand hovered over the doorknob for a second, ultimately coming to the decision to walk in.

“oi y/n, i- uh.. i ordered takeout for us, if you're hungry," tsukishima stammered, feeling the weight of his words from earlier still heavy on his shoulders. he hesitated for a moment, unsure if you would even want to see him.

inside the dimly lit bedroom, you were seated on the edge of the bed, your back turned towards him. you had been replaying the argument in your mind, questioning whether you were indeed being too pushy. your thoughts were interrupted by his voice, and despite feeling hurt, you couldn't deny the rumbling in your stomach at the mention of food.

you turned slightly to look at him, noticing the takeout bags in his hands. the gesture made your heart melt. tsukishima cleared his throat nervously, taking a small step closer. "i... i know i was out of line earlier. you were just looking out for me," he began, his voice low. "i appreciate that, really. i'm sorry for calling you overbearing."

you remained silent, your gaze fixed on the floor as you processed his words. tsukishima shifted uncomfortably at the doorframe. "can we... can we talk about this?" he asked tentatively, taking another small step forward. "or at least, can we eat together?"

you glanced up at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. despite the hurt feelings, you knew that tsukishima wasn't one to apologize easily. the fact that he had ordered your favorite food showed that he was trying, in his own way, to make amends.

finally, you nodded silently, gesturing towards the bed. tsukishima exhaled quietly in relief, setting the takeout containers down on the bedside table before joining you. for a while, neither of you spoke as you ate, the quietness was comfortable.

after a few minutes, tsukishima broke the silence cautiously. "i mean it, y/n. i shouldn't have said those things. i know you care about me, and i... i care about you too." his voice was hesitant, but genuine.

you looked at him then, meeting his gaze. "i know," you replied softly, your tone was enough for tsukishima to know you were forgiving him. "i just... sometimes i worry, you know?"

he nodded, his expression serious. "i get that. and i promise i'll try to be more mindful. you deserve that."

with those words, all the tension leaves the air. the conversation flowed more easily from there, the both of you gradually finding common ground and understanding. by the time you finished eating, a sense of comfort hung in the air.

as tsukishima gathered up the empty containers, you reached out to touch his arm lightly. "thank you, kei,” you said sincerely, meeting his eyes once more. "for trying."

he smiled faintly, a hint of relief in his expression. "thank you for not giving up on me," he replied, his voice soft.

and with that, the evening unfolded into a quiet understanding between the two of you, strengthening the bond that had drawn you together in the first place.

a/n: this one’s a little messy😓

#tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #haikyu fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #kei tsukishima #tsukishima angst #haikyuu angst #hq x reader #hq tsukishima #haikyuu tsukki #hq angst #tsukishima fluff

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vidals-harkness · 2 months ago

Text

jealousy, jealousy (agatha harkness, rio vidal)

summary: pulling a stunt on your partners for their attention goes terribly wrong.

fic type: smut

pairings: agatha harkness x fem!reader, rio vidal x fem!reader

warnings: smut, jealousy, alight age gap, use of pet names (r is called bunny), mommy kink, daddy kink, oral sex (agatha and rio receiving), fingering, enchanted strap-on use, spanking (r receiving), degradation, mean!rio, mean!agatha, rough sex, choking (r receiving), orgasm denial, face sitting (agatha receiving).

word count: 2.1k

note: this is my first time writing smut, i apologise if it sucks, so please don’t judge me :<

This party was beyond boring. All you saw were people you barely recognised, smelt liquor you definitely weren’t allowed to drink, and saw your partners talking to everyone except you.

So, natural as it was, you wanted their attention all on you. What could you say? They had you craving more of them every time.

So, your eyes landed on the young Miss Wu-Gulliver, a sweet young woman who you quite liked being around.

You sat beside her, smiling angelically. “Hiya, sweetheart,” you winked, making her blush.

“Hey,” she nodded. “Um…s-sup,”

Your eyes caught Rio’s from across the room, and she raised a brow at you, earning a simple, enigmatic wink in return.

“You know you look damn pretty tonight,” you whispered, running a hand up Alice’s arm, making her breath hitch.

At the other end of the room, Agatha watched you and leaned closer to Rio, muttering through gritted teeth, “Looks like bunny’s putting up a bit of a show,”

Rio chuckled darkly, her eyes fixed on you as you began to dance your fingers over Alice’s thigh.

“Let her think she’s won, my love,” the primordial being laughed, sipping on her drink. “Bait her just a little,”

Agatha’s hands clenched into fists, eyes blazing as she saw Alice reciprocate, squeezing your hand in hers a little, pulling you a tad bit closer.

They snapped, it seemed, when you shot them a wink.

“Screw this, I’m making that brat pay,” Agatha hissed, going over to you both.

You leaned back in your seat, feigning innocence. “Aggie? You look a little bothered, what’s the matter?”

Agatha’s blood began to boil, and you knew it. A sly smirk came over you as she muttered a gruff word of adieu to Alice, leading you away.

“Let’s go,” she hissed to Rio, guiding you back to the car.

You waited for Agatha to speak as you sat in the back seat, but strangely she didn’t.

“Bunny…” came Rio’s voice—disconcertingly soft and gentle. “Exactly what did you think you were getting out of riling me and Agatha up?”

You fidgeted with your fingers. While you bratted out ever so often, getting reprimanded, however gently, still hurt.

“Attention…” you admitted ashamedly.

“Attention?!” Agatha spat, irritated. “The only thing you’re getting out of that stunt is a whole lot of punishment, bunny,”

"No, no, no, daddy, I'm sorry!" You exclaimed. Agatha and Rio's punishments were the worst. It always involved a lot of begging, a lot of crying, and enough denial to make you want to scream.

"Too bad, bunny," Rio chuckled. "You dug your own grave,"

You leaned your head back, eyes closing in defeat. You were very, very screwed.

The second you three entered the house, you were met with a sharp smack on your bottom, given by Rio.

"Upstairs, now," she said firmly.

"And strip while you're there, would you, bunny?" Agatha added, her sweet tone only giving away more of the fact that she was fuming.

You were quick to obey, dashing up the stairs to sit and wait for them, kneeling on the bed, naked and shivering a little.

As they entered, you felt goosebumps rise on your skin. Agatha's expression was, as usual, very readable, yet terrifying. She was mad, and you could tell by the way she didn't even look at you as she went to the 'special' drawer.

Rio, on the other hand, was a closed book with an enchanted lock. Her eyes were soft, her touch was the same, but her words were stinging, condescending, and conveying enough for you to know that she, too, was just as mad as Agatha.

She sat on the bed, stretched out and relaxed. She snapped her fingers, the command sharp and clear, "Come here, bunny,"

You quietly and obediently crawled over to her, not in the mood to worsen your punishment. You sat in front of her, not meeting her eyes. In response to your demeanour, she chuckled lowly, grabbing your chin firmly to make you face her.

"God, you're so stupid, aren't you bunny?" She chuckled, squeezing slightly. Your brows furrowed only slightly, as her gaze shot to Agatha, who was leaning against the foot of bed on her palms, eyes fixed on you.

"She really is," the woman agreed, standing straighter and coming closer. You caught a glimpse of what she was wearing--a purple lace lingerie set, the one you knew Rio liked.

"How do we begin, hm? Maybe our sweet bunny could choose the first punishment?" Rio purred, letting go of your chin. You took it as an allowance to look down, but as your head dropped, you felt the cold tip of her knife kiss the underside of your jaw. "Eyes on me, sweet girl," she laughed.

"No way," Agatha said, scowling. "She's gonna get twenty, and she's going to thank me for each and every one," her hands caressed your ass gently as she hissed, "Isn't that right, bunny?"

Before you could squeak out even the smallest 'yes daddy', she had landed one sharp smack on your ass, making you whimper softly. She'd positioned you on all fours such that you faced Rio, the knife keeping your eyes on her, leaving your bare behind to Agatha.

"Count," Rio ordered, pressing the knife against your skin hard enough to make you wince. "And thank her for each one,"

Agatha started over, each spank feeling harsher than the last. You didn't make a mistake, thankfully, but by the end you were a crying, soaking mess, your skin stinging.

"Aww..." Rio cooed, wiping your tears with her thumb gently. "Was daddy too harsh, bunny?"

You nodded with a whine, breathing a sigh of relief when you felt the knife lower, and crawled into Rio's arms, while Agatha rubbed some ointment on your reddened skin, providing some relief.

They were mad, but they never liked seeing you in too much pain.

"Alright, bunny," Agatha purred, snapping her fingers to make a velvet collar appear around your throat. She grabbed it and gently pulled you down so you were aligned with your face between Rio's thighs, which, with the help of magic, were devoid of any clothing.

“Make mommy feel good, bunny,” you heard Rio grin, laughing through her teeth in that gritty way which made you weak at the knees. “Be a good girl…”

Quietly and obediently, you began to suck on her clit, earning a sharp whine from her as her hips arched towards your head, her hand tangling into your hair. “Fuck, you’re so good, bunny…” she breathed, a heavy moan falling from her lips as you thrust your tongue inside her, eating her out expertly. You knew every inch of her, so every move of yours was calculated, feeling a rush of pride as a string of curses, praise and moans fell from her lips so effortlessly as you worked your magic.

Suddenly, you felt Agatha tug at your collar, a silent order to stop. You did so, earning a desperate whine from Rio.

“Daddy’s turn,” Agatha smirked, pinning you down on the bed, making you squeak in surprise ever so slightly. You felt her hand fist in your hair, the sharp pull feeling nice, sending a rush of pleasure to your already sensitive core.

She positioned herself over you, ordering curtly, “Make daddy cum, bunny,”

You nodded and put out your tongue, letting her ride your face, her clit bumping against your nose as she did, her moans like music to your ears. You felt Rio’s hands all over you, slipping between your slick folds every now and then to tease, making you a squirming mess, while you moaned il into Agatha’s dripping cunt.

“Such a good little slut for me and mommy, aren’t you, bunny?” She panted, her hips going at a steady pace, words punctuated by a breathy moan each time.

“Look at her, she’s dripping on the sheets,” Rio giggled, her two fingers running up and down your slit, making you whimper into Agatha.

“You get off on being used like this, bunny?” Agatha panted. “Like a cheap toy for us?”

You couldn’t speak, not with her using your face, but the answer was evident and clear: yes.

You heard Rio’s laugh, and felt Agatha’s hips starting to get more irregular in their pace. She came over your face with a loud moan, perhaps audible to the downstairs neighbours.

“Clean it up,” said Rio firmly, seeing you about to squirm away from under Agatha. Quietly and obediently you licked her clean, breathing deeply.

“Good girl, bunny,” Agatha purred, sliding off you and gently petting your head. “Why don’t you keep Mommy company till I get right back, hm?”

You let out a quiet whine, nodding as Rio smirked and pulled you onto her lap, her hand going down to your dripping, aching, needy cunt.

“Oh bunny, you’re damn near tears,” she gasped, hand gripping your chin and her fingers squeezing your cheeks gently. “Are Mommy and Daddy being a little too mean?”

You nodded, making her nod with you somewhat mockingly. “Yeah?” She pouted. “Yeah, we’re so mean, aren’t we? Maybe if you’d been good, just maybe if you hadn’t acted so stupid, perhaps then we wouldn’t be so mean,”

You whimpered softly when she stuffed you with two of her fingers, eyes rolling back as you bucked your hips, begging her to move.

“Don’t,” she warned firmly. “Stay still bunny,”

You heard the tone—heard how it invited no argument, no defiance, and absolutely no resistance.

You nodded, making her smile.

“There’s my obedient bunny,” she chuckled darkly, moving her fingers inside you agonisingly slowly.

Agatha came back, her favourite purple strap around her hips and looking positively gorgeous as per usual—her hair open and wild, as well as her whole body radiating that kind of overpowering dominance which always had you on your knees in seconds.

“Bunny, come,” she said, standing on the edge of the bed, her eyes on you, taking in your flushed cheeks, sensitive body.

You obediently, though somewhat reluctantly, moved off Rio’s fingers, crawling to her and kneeling on the bed, eyes fixated on her.

“Down,” she pointed at the floor, brow raised. “You’re gonna put that smart mouth to use, hm?”

You nodded and knelt on the floor, parting your lips obediently, not wanting a second of more punishment. You felt your cunt, ever neglected and sensitive, dripping on the floor a little, making Rio giggle.

“Oh look at her, making a mess, so pathetic,” she said, laughing.

Before you could turn and react, Agatha’s hand had fisted in your hair, making you take her strap in your warm mouth. The sensation clearly made her moan, and you knew immediately—enchanted strap. You bobbed your head up and down as she pleased, moaning around her length, relishing the soft whimpers and expletives which spilled past her soft lips.

She suddenly pulled out, her strap connecting to your lips with just a sliver of your drool, and she pretty much manhandled you into position, your face in between Rio's legs, and ass in the air. You felt the green witch grab your hair tightly and hold it there, showing what she wanted, and before you could comprehend anything, Agatha's length filled you up.

A muffled yelp came past your lips, making Rio groan at the vibration on her aching cunt. Agatha began thrusting in and out of you, bottoming out every single time. The feeling of your walls around her cock made her moan gutturally, and with their constant teasing so far, you were quick to approach your high.

"You gonna cum, pretty bunny?" Agatha growled, her hands finding their place on your hips, squeezing the soft skin as you moaned into Rio's pussy as you replied, her juices soaking your tongue and face.

Before your high could crash down over you, Agatha pulled out, making you push your head back from between Rio's legs.

"Daddy no, no, please--I was good!" You whimpered, the easy tears gathering at your eyes.

"Tears again, bunny? God, such an adorable crybaby," Agatha giggled, placing you simply next to Rio. "What I want you to do is keep those pretty, sweet, teary little eyes of yours on Mommy and I, yes?"

You nodded, but felt Rio squeeze your cheeks sharply, her words that same, firm command. "Words, bunny,"

"Y-Yes daddy," you nodded, looking at Agatha with wide, scared eyes.

“Oh look at you, so fucking terrified,” Agatha giggled, using magic to bind your hands above your head, before she started to fuck Rio brutally with her strap, both their moans making you start to feel like you were going to explode with arousal.

Your whined and whimpered, trying to get their attention. You only got it when Rio came over Agatha’s strap, coating it in her cum.

She slumped forwards, breathing heavily, slowing her high down a little.

“I think…” Rio panted. “I think bunny’s had enough punishment,”

Agatha nodded in agreement, her hands coming to your hips to pull you forwards so Rio could hold you from behind, her hands toying with your nipples gently as Agatha lined up with your dripping pussy.

She pushed the strap through your soaking walls, moaning at the feeling, her eyes rolling back.

“Fuck, so wet…” she groaned, thrusting slowly and gently, while Rio held you close and kissed your forehead.

“Easy, bunny,” Rio purred, when you yelped as Agatha bottomed out. “Easy…”

Agatha continued at the pace you wanted and your body was flooded with feelings of ecstasy throughout.

You mewled out a small, ‘I’m close’,

Which made Agatha reply, “Cum when you want, my love,”

It just took that one order to have you coming undone under her and in Rio’s arms. You cried out and whimpered, repeating their names constantly.

As you came down form your high, you saw the strap vanish, and immediately there was cool water pressing against your slit tenderly. Rio. She cleaned you up, while Agatha held you, whispering sweet nothings to you.

“What did we learn, bunny?” Rio asked as she started running a bath for the three of you.

“Don’t make Mommy and Daddy jealous,” you mumbled, hiding your face in Agatha’s neck, feeling her laugh and stroke your hair.

Once everyone was bathed, sheets were changed, and in comfortable clothes, you snuggled into them both, watching a sweet Christmas movie together.

You acted up, but in the end, you knew they loved you.

i hope you enjoyed this, bao buns! sorry for how overdue and late this is and for that ending, I couldn’t figure it out :< feel free to request!

love, jaya

#agathario x reader #agathario smut #smut #fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #rio vidal x reader

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dilf-docs · 11 days ago

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Le Pedí Al Mar Y Al Sol Que Te Trajera

pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: vacations are supposed to be fun! and with a hot older famous boyfriend? now we're really talking.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (yum), pwp, p. in v., fingering, pussy spanking (ooc i'm sorry i just want a man to do this to me), creampie, virgin!reader (sorry if this is kinda unrealistic for a first as i two i'm a virgin; in the curb we all fam), aftercare, spanglish ofc!!!

word count: 2,865 words

side note: so, i modified the request a bit bc idk pedro's friends like that (i just know omar apollo can tower over me wait what). check the og request here. reqs still open as we enter 2025! happy new year, dilf town citizens: pushed this drabble last minute as a lil' gift for you before the year ends! :) thank u sm for being part of it, my journey on tumblr is just getting started!!!!!!!!!!

Hace tiempo que quería yo sentir esto que siento.

They say dating a star and having to share him with everybody else is the hardest part, but to you, it's having both of your vacations occur simultaneously.

Finally, after months of shooting so many projects for the next year, your boyfriend is free.

Vacations are fun! They're supposed to be relaxing, especially after leading such a busy life as yours: juggling between work, studies and a relationship with world-renowned actor, Pedro Pascal. Yet, you can't help but feel nervous, fiddling with the loose strands of your skirt.

Pedro wants you to go alone, which means just the both of you: a little escape before Christmas Eve, as he and his friends have already planned their holiday together.

Doesn't matter how many times you tried to excuse yourself, he was determined to make you go with him. Besides, let's get real: it's not like you can say no to him. So now here he is, both of your passports in hand as you both are ready to board your plane to Mexico, where the rest of his friends will meet you a week later. Yes, more nerves to add on the schedule.

"If you don't quit that shaking of yours, I'll extend our vacation two more weeks" Pedro threatens once you're seated, but it's devoid of any malice. He's a bit far from you (he also insisted on the VIP flying part; you're just fine flying tourist, but can understand why he isn't), so you can't count on his touch to comfort you. "Didn't know you were afraid of planes"

You sigh, "I'm not"

"Ay, cariño. Are you afraid of me then?"

"No" you laugh nervously. You are, but not for the reasons he thinks.

It's the very first time the two of you will be fully alone. For obvious reasons, a whole week at the beach is much more intimate than just the dates you've been in. But here you are, already seeing the sand and water beneath you.

"Like what you see?" he jokes.

"Yeah" you look back at him, sincerity washing over the expression on your face. "I do"

If there is one thing you're sure of, is your love for Pedro. You'll just have to wait and see how this goes.

As of now, everything has gone well: sun, water, diving and lots of new photos and videos on your camera roll. You've gone swimming and danced on the bar of the hotel you're staying, some extra drinks on your system. You've also sunbathed under the same sun you've watched go down, in the most beautiful sunsets you've ever seen in your life.

But here comes the hardest part: the night. Sharing a bed isn't hard: it's something that's happened before, one time even staying in his house for two days, all because he insisted.

This time is different: the way his gaze lingers over your bare legs, the same way he's looked at them when the droplets of water slide down them. The way he licks his lips, like he's starving and the most deliciously tempting meal stands before him. Mantaining eye contact like it's some kind of dare, just as he's done since you've landed, using it to disarm you little by little.

You don't think you can't take it anymore.

You lay down on the bed, and he leaves the book he's reading on the night table next to him, all his attention directed towards you. Yeah, you're afraid, he can sense, but apparently not that afraid to wear a dainty nightwear that gives a delicious peek of your breasts.

"Something you want to say?" you ask, almost daringly so.

"Say no" voice low, barely a whisper that could come across a breeze of wind entering through the open window as it stirs the courtains. "Want, yes"

You gulp. "What do you want, then?"

Shouldn't taken the bait.

"You" comes quick, like it's the easiest answer there ever is.

The rest of his answer comes in the form of hungry lips capturing yours, devouring them in a clash of desire against your own, even struggling to breath due to the animalistic borderline savage way Pedro's eating you out, his tongue battling inside your mouth while trying to explore every corner just to taste all of you on his palate.

"Pedro" you moan his name out when he bites your lip with a bit too much force, metallic filling your taste buds. It's all so hot, and you're too turned on to think.

His roaming hands itch to touch every available spot of soft skin your body offers, tracing first through your collarbones, and then leaving the task for his lips to complete. There goes a trail of kisses that go down your neck, teeth nibbling the sensitive skin until it turns red. You whine against his hold, big hands keeping you under him, back pushed against the soft mattress and silk sheets.

You gasp for air, lost in the fire, when suddenly his forgotten hands touch you down there.

"Wait!" you shout, mentally slapping yourself.

"¿Qué pasó?" he exclaims, scared. "Did I hurt you?"

"N-no" you're quick to deny, voice wavering as you seat up on the bed. Your cheeks soon flush, as there's regret when you say. "I'm sorry"

"Sorry for what?" he tenderly cups your cheek. "Just tell me what happened"

"What happened is, I fucked up the vibe. I'm sorry, P. Didn't mean to stop you like that"

"¿No te estaba gustando, cariño?" he's questioning again.

"No" your answer is more firmly this time. His face morphs into a bit of hurt, and then you think your answer a bit more. "Ah, no. I mean, yes! I was liking it. I meant no as in no, it's not that why I stopped you"

"Then, why is it?" he grows a little impatient, but shows no such thing, rather focused on helping you out. "You know you can trust me, right?"

"I know" you smile sadly, insecurities washing over you like cold water.

"Then, tell me" he scoots closer, his perfume getting in your nostrils. Had he wore it again for this? God, what an evil little horny creature.

"I'm scared" you confess finally, the warmth of his receptiveness giving you a sense of security. His brown eyes soften, and you feel tears brim in the corner of your eyes.

"I know" he repeats your words, kissing you softheartedly, nothing compared to as before.

"No" you look directly at him, ready to take in every reaction his face will have. "I don't think you do"

"Amor, por favor-"

"I'm a virgin" you cut him off, panic rushing your answer.

"You are?" almost immediatly, giving no opportunity for silence to settle in.

You nod, slowly.

He sighs, sounding relieved. "And here I thought you didn't love me. Que te daba asco acostarte con un viejo como yo"

"No!" you deny hastily, then laugh. "Of course I love you, P. On the contrary, I was the one scared. Don't want to fuck it up on my first"

The energy changes again, as a flame sparks within your orbs. He looks surprised.

"Just because I said-" he cuts himself off. "Look, y/n, mi vida. I don't want to force you, yeah? I didn't know you hadn't- Listen, if you aren't ready, I'll understand"

"I am ready" clear and convinced, without a doubt.

His eyes circle between lust and love, "You want me to be your first, mmh baby?"

You nod, and he's back at the kissing and nibbling on your neck and collarbones.

"Please say it"

"I want you, Pedro. Quiero que seas mi primera vez"

Those sweet words of yours, an invitation not even the strongest man could deny.

"Let's start slow, yeah?" his fingers travel down to your panties under the nightwear, removing them and tossing them out of the bed, even with your pout. He kisses it off, wasting no time after to see your clit exposed. "Looking so sweet, angel. And needy" he gets closer, taking a better look at the wet mess that coats in between your thighs. He takes a whiff, intoxicated with the smell of your arousal dripping in waiting need. "Tell me if this is okay, yeah? I'll stop if it hurts"

Your breath hitches the moment his middle finger touches your puffy clit. Pedro runs his finger up and down, not adding much pressure to let you get used to it (kissing and eating each other out was all you had ever done). You whimper at the feeling as he repeats his action a few more times.

"Please, keep going" you plead, barely managing to not squirm at the overwhelming new sensations that shoot right through your cunt.

He begins to rub slow circles, making sure to add the right pressure onto your clit, then circling it, all while keeping eye contact, adoring the new expressions and sounds he's getting from you. You realize and shy away, embarrassed all of the sudden at the way he looks at you.

"Don't" he holds you by your chin with his free hand, "I want to know how you look when I please you"

You whimper, letting him do his own thing. He starts leaving sweet little kisses around your quivering pussy, enjoying the sight of your hole clenching at nothing.

"Think you can take more?" he asks, "want more?"

Two of his fingers dive straight in between your folds, coating them with your juices.

"Good girl" he praises when you only yelp, savouring the new feel of his digits inside of you. Then, he drags his fingers back to his mouth, tongue licking them clean. "Taste so sweet too"

"N-need more" you whine, desperate beneath him.

"Yeah?" This your first and you're already this greedy? I think I can get used to it" he laughs in adoration. "Let's try something better, yeah?"

Your body suddenly jolts, his big palm flat against your pussy. Pedro circles his whole palm across your cunt, middle finger pressing tightly onto it. You moan, back arching at the overstimulation.

He feels a little pervy, enjoying the way your tiny young body squirms beneath his caging body for of him. Nonetheless, he continues to rub you while you release more dirty sounds cascading out fo your filthy greedy lips. Your arousal keeps dripping like a broken pipeline, now smeared all over Pedro's palm, filling the room with slippery sounds.

"Mhm" you can't even speak, the exquisite combination of pain and pleasure reducing you to a moaning mess.

Pedro slaps your pussy twice, wet smacks bouncing off the walls.

"That's my girl" he then gently blows on your swollen bud, pressing a light kiss on it after. "Ready for it?"

It meaning his hard tent hidden under his underwear. You gulp, afraid you might not take it. He sees the hesitation in your eyes, but you're quick to dissmiss it.

"Are you sure you are ready?"

"Just do it" you demand, without knowing the consequences of your words, or the effect you have on him. Overall.

With needy fingers, you're fast to strip him out of it, admiring the size as much as you admire his now sculpted body. Jesus, you could build a cult out of it.

"Now" he cups your cheeks, fingers digging onto the skin, "I want you to look at me when I fuck you, yes? Don't dare to look away"

Pedro positions himself between your legs, aligning himself with your entrance. Then, he thrust inside you, filling you completely. You cry, trying to adjust to his size while your nails dig on his broad back, as he claims you, makes you his. Only his. Pedro'hi's hips snap forward with precision: every thrust is deliberate, each movement calculated to make your first as pleasurable as he can, despite the pain that's shown in your tears or the little drops of blood that fall onto the sheets.

"Shit" he pants, "tendremos que pagar por eso"

He grips your thighs, holding you steady as he pounds into you.

"Fuck, you feel so good" he moans, your tight untouched walls now stretching to adapt to his girth, "like you were made for me"

You cling to him, legs wrapping around his waist as he firmly holds you. Your vision goes foggy, mind numb at the burning and pleasing sensations. Despite that and lack of experience, you meet his every thrust, your bodies moving as one.

Your core contracts around him with every motion. "You fuck me so good" you mewl, music to his ears.

"I know, baby" he chuckles, "sólo lo mejor para mi princesa"

Fingers dig into your skin as he guides you with precision, right as he wants you to be. You feel the intensity of his deep inside of you with every movement, his hot laboured breath against your ear.

"Doing it so good" his voice is low, almost a growl, sending shivers down your spine. "Just for me"

"Just for you" you mindlessly pant out, the sensation of having all of him inside you, nothing separating the skin from skin, igniting a fire that spreads through your core. Your breasts bounce with each motion, Pedro's eyes never leaving yours, dark orbs locked onto your gaze as you urge him to go faster, drawing in a sharp breath as your body adjusts to the new rhythm he's providing, rapidly obeying.

The room is quiet except for the sound of your bodies clashing onto one another, flesh against flesh echoing softly.

"Your body is perfect, so wet, so tight for me" His words send a wave of pleasure crashing over you, making you moan loudly, your head falling back, "me tienes loco"

Pedro's weight grounds you as he begins to thrust deeply, each movement deliberate and unrelenting.

"Tell me you want this, us" the words catch you off guard. "Will you take all of me?"

"Yes" without a thought or doubt, answering as you whine and clutch at his shoulders with his more urgent thrusts. "All of you, always"

You notice his hips snapping forward, more energy as he pounts into you. "Good girl" praising you again, voice thick in arousal and rough, "so good for me"

Despite being your first, you can feel what would be your orgasm building, closer and closer until there is no holding it back.

"Pedro!" you scream his name, body collapsing around him as you come, stars reaching your closed eyelids.

His movements become more intense and sloppier, breathing ragged as he chases his own release.

"Espérame. Stay there for me"

You cling to him, legs wrapping tighter as he continues to pound into you. "Ya casi" his thrusts become erratic as he nears his climax, "almost there, baby"

You feel his body tensing as he comes inside you with a deep groan, seed spilling into you without wasting a drop.

"That's right" whispers against your sweet neck roughly, voice breaking as he collapses over you, trying to level his breathing. "Eres mía, only mine"

You're whimpering, body exhausted from the whole session you had.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Just tired" you sigh, "but I don't think I can walk"

"We'll get you a wheelchair someway" he jokes.

"You think is funny? Ruining my holidays?"

He leans down to press a sweet kiss on your forehead. "Come on, we'll get you cleaned up" you mumble out a tired no, but Pedro's picking you up with his strong arms, taking your body to the bathroom. You wrap your legs instinctively around his waist, face hidden in the crook of his neck.

"You know what? Your fans were right: you do have a slutty little waist" you mock.

"Right" he blushes, embarrased as he takes you inside the bathroom, then placing you on top of the toilet. "Open up, baby" he grabs some tissues, trying to clean up the mess you've made between your legs. "Así, justo así, bebé" he parts your hair to the side lovingly, fixing it for you before pressing a kiss on the crown of your head. "Done, my pretty baby, look at you"

You hum, eyes threatening to close.

"I see you're not an after-sex talker. Come on, I'll take you back to bed" he picks you up again, your head leaning against Pedro's V line as he caresses your head. "Hope you don't mind the smell"

"I love how you smell" you mumble out in a drunk like state.

"Okay then" he chuckles, "let's go back to bed" taking you out of the room, gently placing you the mattress. He then pulls a pair of fresh panties from your suitcase, dressing you in them. He coos at the sight of you, sleeping peacefully despite what you did before.

He finally lays next to you, lovingly lifting up your arm to put it around his waist. He pulls the sheets over your bodies to keep you both warm, in the chilly room thanks to the beach's air.

He feels you move, snuggling closer to his chest to seek warmth.

"I love you" whispered, not expecting you to answer or hear it.

When you snuggle closer, he's sure you do.

#dilfistquickwrites #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x you #pedro x reader #pedro pascal fluff #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedropascal #pedro fluff #pedro smut #pwp #pedro pascal pwp #pedro pascal fandom

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simp-ly-writes · 1 month ago

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Do I Wanna Know?

─────── · · How Could You Refuse? (pt.2)

Pairing: Jayce Talis x Shy!Assistant!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: You must supress your feelings for your boss, Jayce, no matter how much it pains you- it is for your combined good. To help yourself off the loss of a relationship that never started, you start seeing a high-ranking enforcer officer while Jayce gets to know his fellow council member, Mel more. But the catch? Every time the man touches you, all you can think of is Jayce...

─ · · TAGS: female pronouns used, light angst, fluff, touch as a love language, jealous! and protective!Jayce (no seriously), reader is mentioned to have hair and shorter than Jayce.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 3,180

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

─ · · A/N: So... I may have gotten carried away... but I was giggling and kicking my feet the whole way through so... 🤷 (Heavily inspired by the Arctic Monkeys song of the same name!).

─────── · ·

─ · · Mel smiled softly at you, placing her hand in your own- stopping your fidgeting. You look up at her, trying to match her radiant smile, "Thank you, I promise not to get in the way of your work. I know how much it means to you three." You nod, "Thank you, I appreciate the words," is all you manage to get out before watching her leave and a sinking feeling starts to stir in your stomach that propels a pain in your chest as you grasp at the fabric of your dress, knees suddenly feeling weak

A sudden knock at the door has you startled as you turn back on the sink, "(name)?" you can here Jayce's muffled voice from behind the heavy oak door. He knocks again as you sigh, splashing some cold water onto your face before drying yourself off. "I'll be out in a minute, Jayce!" you call out, hearing as he huffs and leans against the door.

You look at yourself, rolling your eyes but can't help the smile that appears on your face before feeling that sinking, funny feeling again and you watch that once smile slide right off your face.

Opening the door, Jayce stumbles forwards, fixing his suit jacket before offering back his arm. You stare at it for a moment, looking between the white fabric of his suit jacket and your gloved hand- hesitant. "Please don't tell me we have to have this conversation again, you know what you are to me... you know your worth, right? I wouldn't be here tonight if I didn't have you."

Your breath hitches at his words, eyes blinking away oncoming tears as you pat his arm and nod, not being able to find words as you loosely wrap your fingers around his bicep and start walking back. "You know I..." you both pause before the event doors, "...I really do care about you, (name) and if this is too much we can leave and go get those desserts you like and-"

"No, Jayce," you speak up, turning around to face him. Your expression holding a degree of coldness that shoots right through the mans heart as he reaches out to hold your hand yet you cross your arms around yourself and fix your shawl. You hate seeing his frown but you knew that this is what you needed to do, you were not the right fit for him. "Tonight is about celebrating you, so let's do that," you finally smile even though it does not reach your eyes.

Jayce stares at you for a moment, eyebrows furrowing as he examines your posture and expression... something happened in that bathroom, he thinks to himself. His features grow sharper, you can see the fabric of his suit flexing as he gets angrier by the minute.

The doors behind you both suddenly burst open as you take a quick stand behind Jayce to move out of the way, another council members takes Jayce's hand giving it a shake before introducing Jayce to his wife and being the gentleman that you know Jayce to be, he takes her hand, planting a gentle kiss to the back of her glove before holding light conversation.

Thinking this the prime time to escape to the bar for some much needed liquid courage, you can feel Jayce's glare at the back of your head as he watches you walk away while conversing. You could practically hear the words at the back of your head almost telepathically as you turned your head slightly over your shoulder to catch his dark eyes, this conversation isn't over, I will find out. But that was for future you to worry about as you opened your own tab for the long night ahead of yourself.

─────── · ·

─ · · Everyone could see how restless the new Councillor was as it was quite clearly written on his face. No matter how softly he could smile or loudly he laughed, his eyes were still cold as his hands fidgeted with his cuff links, knuckles turning white as he gripped an amber glass with small cracks already starting to form as he watched a sponsor place a hand on your shoulder and buy you a drink.

─ · · Jayce watched as another placed a hand to your knee, going up your thigh- he felt sick and equally envious. He watched, eyes burning through the back of your head as you danced and twirled with various partners, that should be me, he shook his head. Blinking slowly as you left the room and out towards the hall as someone pulled out their pen, you pulled down your glove and the door closed, slamming like his heart in his chest.

─ · · He remembers how his fractions, equations, and diagrams would coat your skin, marking it permanently for at times weeks. But there was always one design he would constantly request for- one that he had inked forever into his own skin in the exact same spot on his forearm; a circular hextech crystal that was currently fading against your skin. It had been so long since you both had sat in the lab together... often you would be with Viktor on your assigned "days off."

─ · · A shake to his arm had Jayce remembering the conversational circle he was yet he thought it better to be back inside his head by the comments and touches he was receiving as a form to try and "ease him." But Jayce only tensed more underneath the unfamiliar touches of disloyal wives and businesswomen. "If you need that girl," they spit out, "in order to speak, feel free, nab her. I can wait for you~"

"Poor, girl, you probably bruise her under that grip, I could handle it," they giggle.

"Whats wrong Councillor Talis? Girl troubles? Why aren't you a man of scandal~"

"Such a brilliant mind, why would you need her?"

"She looks like she's doing fine, talk with us!"

"A man like you dosn't need someone like her-" the words died on their lips once being on the receiving end of his glare, "Thank you for the conversation, ladies. But I must get back to speaking with my peers, excuse me."

─────── · ·

─ · · It was not very professional of him and he knew it to thinking of how it should be him paying for your tab, for him to be touching you, holding you, listening to you laugh- "Jayce!" A voice called out to him, stirring him away from his vision of red as he was about to turn down the hall to find out where you had went.

─ · · Jayce's shoulders rise and fall with his deep breaths, he tries not to roll his eyes once feeling another person touch his arm but to his surprise its his fellow Councillor Medarda. "Councillor! A pleasure as always," Jayce greets, finding a smile as they shake hands.

"How are you tonight, Councillor Talis? And please Mel is fine when it is just the two of us," Mel smiles, holding his touch for a moment longer than necessary as Jayce looks down at the connection with conflicting emotion before shaking his hand away.

"I am... alright, you look beautiful tonight, Mel. And I must insist you call me, Jayce as well." Mel nods, head held high as she waves her fan in front of her face, "Have you had a drink yet, Jayce?" She says his name as if its so familiar as if its you, Jayce shakes his head and then is being brought over to the bar. He looks back to the doors yet you are nowhere to be found as he takes a seat and picks of the stem to a wine glass.

"Cheers to your, promotion!" Mel celebrates, her tainted lips marking the cup, eyes watching as his lips take a long drink before she casts him a wink before looking over his shoulder to watch as you make your reentrance. You make eye-contact with Mel, eyes flickering between her and Jayce before sending a nod as she turns back and places a hand just nearly touching his own on the bar top.

But before Jayce can see who Mel was looking at, she drops her fan unexpectedly, watching as Jayce picks it back up, holding her gaze and capturing his attention. You look away, saving your sanity as you stare at the number on your arm with contemplation... looking to see the commanding officer from earlier in his navy blues, high leather boots, and hat tipping in your direction...

From the alcohol in your system, you blushed, sending a flying kiss back before taking a seat at an empty table. "I've heard your miss mastermind with the numbers. Practically made the councillors career over there," an older gentleman sits down across from you as you cross your legs, your thigh showing through the slit in your dress.

"It was a... team effort," you retort, taking another small sip from your glass, watching as he leans over the table, eyes flickering down to your collarbones and up your neck, watching as your lips move. "I need someone like that, someone like you-"

A sudden large hand is being placed across your chest, you gasp and look up to see Jayce forcing you to stand, pressing your back against his chest. "Apologies, Mr. Zagtagreus, but Miss (last/name) and I must discuss some matters, I take it you understand?" Jayce says, his tone leaving no room for discussion before he is leading you back to the lab.

You stumble on the trail of your dress and in your heels you are still not used to wearing, "Jayce, please slow down, I-AH!" you scream, hand flying out to cover your mouth in shock as Jayce picks you up and throw you over his shoulder. "Councillor Talis, put. me. down. this. instant!" you command, kicking your feet only to hear a low chuckle as you make a turn down another hall, going farther and further away from the events space.

"Nope, too slow, mini," Jayce laughs between his words, picking up his pace as you shake in his grip yet he holds you firm. "Councillor this is absolutely barbaric! What on earth has gotten into you? Do I need Viktor to call over the doctor? Or how about some coffee, I know I'm strict about it in these hours but I can make an exception! Or I can have your staff run you a bath!" you pled, hitting his toned back with furrowed brows and then you both pause.

"So you can call him Viktor but I'm councillor?" Jayce asks, his voice calm... too calm.

"Yes, Jayce..." you spit out his name, your heart speaking for your unclear brain from the fog of booze running through your system, "you know when I was speaking wth everyone, I realized just how unprofessional we are in our new positions, just like now~!" you sing out before letting out a large sigh as Jayce makes no further movements instead holding you closer for a minute more before leaning down and helping up steady on your feet.

You take a few steps back, shaking your finger in his face. Jayce smirks, he has never seen you act this passionately or confidently before as you tell him off that he is completely disregarding, just entirely focused on the ways your lips move and the sweat that drips from your forehead from your passion. He is transfixed.

"...I mean, Jayce, you are a public figure now. I can't keep holding your hand or your arm. You can't kiss me or hold me- thats just not like- okay! Like you need to look professional and need to be seen with the right people and I am NOT the right person for- for any of this! I. am. a fucking. lab. assistant. Not some political unit?!"

"And how do you know what I truly need, (name)?" Jayce interrupts you, taking a step forwards and you take a step back.

"Because I am your assistant, Mr. Talis. And I cannot be anything more than that," you explain before turning around and walking to the lab to shoo Viktor back into bed- leaving Jayce standing there, watching as your figure gets smaller and smaller.

─────── · ·

─ · · You don't remember what happened after you locked the door to Viktor's room and left his apartment but when you reached your own, a blue-suited man was already there, leaning against the wall with a cigarette in hand before offering you a drag and next thing you knew, you both were smoking a whole packet into the early morning hours. Your dress discarded somewhere in the room alongside his navy blues.

"If you remember me in the morning, (name). I would like to get to know you more personally," the officer says to you as you snuggle into the warmth of their body heat underneath the covers. You pause, thinking back to Jayce's large rugged hands, you can feel his lips against your cheek, feel his smile in your hair, "I would like that too." And you close your eyes before work in the next three hours.

─ · · You were embarrassed waking up to an empty bed as you showered and dressed yourself into a sweater dress before exiting out of your room, pausing once smelling breakfast and coffee being freshly made. "Morning, love," your company greeted you with a raspy voice that had your heart pounding and ears ringing. fuck, you told yourself, playing with the sleeves of your dress.

They smiled, finding your usual shy self adorable before walking over and pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, "I took the morning off, thinking we could eat together?" And thinking back to your conversation with Jayce last night, this was just the restart you needed for your relationship, so, how could you refuse?

─────── · ·

─ · · Jayce sat in the lab, the moonlight his only company as he obsessed over numbers and diagrams like old times. His hair was all parts out of place, his clothing askew and eyes hollow as he worked into the early morning hours, only becoming startled out of his husk-like state when a golden-cladded hand was being gently placed on his back, a cup of coffee being set in front of him.

"(name)?" Jayce asked in a groggy tone, starting to smile, your morning routine is not ruined. He stood, flexing his arms to stretch before leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek- Jayce's eyes flew open as he stared at Mel in shock as she patted his cheek.

"Good morning to you too Jayce, is that how you greet all of your coffee deliverers?" She teases yet partially curious as to why Jayce was so goddam protective over you.

"I-uh," Jayce scratches at the back of his neck, ruffling his hair while looking around the room, disappointed to not see you yet. "Mel takes a seat at the desk in your chair, Jayce opens his mouth before closing it, deciding it to be a childish comment- no one owned a chair, he took a seat into his own one beside.

"I wanted to talk to you before the meeting and also say that I really enjoyed our time together," Mel said, hand brushing up against the various tools and diagrams. Jayce silently watched her, unknowing to Viktor's presence in the room as he scoffed, shrugging off his satchel and letting the bang shock the duo in their spots before getting to work.

"Good morning, Viktor," Jayce greeting, going to stand before Viktor waved his hand behind his back. "Sit, sit, I just want to finish my work from last night. I'm not here," Viktor explains, humming away in front of a chalkboard, where is (name)?, Viktor asks himself before getting carried away into the equations.

Looking back towards Mel who was expecting an answer still, Jayce fixed his collar, staring down at his notes that didn't look half as good as yours... "I enjoyed it too, now what is it you wanted to discuss?"

"Oh, um... I was wondering if you would be willing to give a speech for progress day?" And Jayce instantly thought back to you listening to his lab findings before presenting them to the Professor, "...I would be honoured to." How could he refuse?

─ · · Viktor turned around slightly to watch as Mels hand was placed on his forearm before Jayce was showing and explaining to her their newest ideas and findings. Viktor eyebrows furrowed, your group discussion was not until after lunch... shaking his head, he poured himself a cup of coffee, wincing at the taste that somehow you perfected... where is (name) when you need them...

─────── · ·

─ · · You were ironing the officers uniform as he polished his boots in front of you on the couch. You smiled, laughing at his jokes, you felt... free, carefree, you corrected yourself as you inspected the material between your fingers, feeling for any wrinkles before shutting off the machine and picking the articles up and folding them over your arm.

You watched the broad man stand before you, leaning down with a teasing look as you helped him into his uniform before feeling an overwhelming feeling of deja vu.

─ · · A past you rushed into Jayce's new apartment without thinking to knock, you both were running late and last night Jayce had stained his white coat with motor oil that you spent the night trying to clean.

Opening his bedroom door you started speaking a mile a minute, opening his drawers and flinging socks and gear at the man as he stood was a towel around his waist, hair dripping wet. Water droplets running down his chest and abs that flexed as he dried himself, watching you with gentle eyes.

"Morning, hun," he said softly, walking over to press a kiss to your cheek yet before it could be planted you swatted him away, "Arms out! we need you dressed and out of here asap!" you commanded. Making sure that the material did not crinkle or wrinkle anywhere before moving to the buttons at which point your hands started to shake and cheeks warmed as you looked down to see his abs and lower waist, how his hipbones dipped- How very unprofessional, you instantly dropped your touch, looking anywhere but Jayce and taking a few steps back, stuttering, "I-I-uh am gonna go get us coffee! Get dressed please by the time I'm back!" you yell, turning to exit the room before an arm is wrapping around your waist and you feel a kiss against your cheek but this time... the lips are different than you remember?

─ · · Opening your eyes, you see the officer smile, "Tell me how work goes, maybe we can go out this weekend for some drinks, yeah?" You nod, giving their hand a squeeze before watching them exit your apartment. You fall over and onto the couch with a huff, well fuck me, I guess.

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: Let me know what you want to see next! :)

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

#fanfic #fanfiction #simp-ly #simp-ly-writes #x reader #arcane x reader #jayce x reader #jayce talis x reader #jealous #protective #fluff #light angst #love language #physical touch #arcane #How Could You Refuse?

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