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#the loneliness of distant being

annelisreadingroom · 1 year

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Do you collect anything? Me and my sister collect dolls. Most of our dolls are in Finland so I can't really include them in a lot of my pictures.

#books #booklr #bookblogger #ya books #book photography #yalit #book photo #fantasy books #blackveil #the loneliness of distant being #blue books

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friendly-neighborhood-goblin69 · 11 months

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This summer was supposed to be hot girl summer :c

Turning out to be more like lana del rey liability by lorde and unfinished dinners kind of summer.

#in my feels #im fine haha im not dealing with trauma from my mom being emotionally distant and overall uncaring #emotional #lonelier version of you #what even is going on #yearning

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klausinamarink · 3 months

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You’re Never Too Much

rating: T | cw: negative self talk | wc: 1.5k | tags: angst with happy ending, hurt Steve, arguing and making up, established relationship, post-canon | prompt: Love is giving them space when they need it

written for @steddielovemonth

Steve knows he can be unbearable with his partners sometimes.

He can’t help it. He doesn’t have a switch that shuts down the sparkling fountain of love like his parents apparently possess. It just naturally flows his veins without pause and surges anew every day.

His first girlfriend Heidi had broken up with him three days into the relationship, saying that Steve was too much for her. He had been more confused than devastated back then because since when did hugging your girlfriend from behind with a kiss to the cheek become ‘too much’? It only confused Steve more when he saw Heidi’s new boyfriend doing the exact same thing with her and they’d been together for three months by then.

Steve had ignored the tiny pang in his chest, shrugged off Carol’s comments, and moved on. Maybe he and Heidi weren’t meant to be anyways.

But it kept happening with the other girls. Leaving romantic poems in the locker instead of make-out invites? Too much. A bundle of flowers after class? Too much. Wanting to cuddle after sex? Too much. Stay the morning after? Too much.

Then came Nancy and she had adored every one of Steve’s antics that none of his previous girlfriends had liked. He quickly made his own schedule of sneaking into her bedroom late in the evening to help her study because he loved her blush and the bright gleam in her eyes. The day when Nancy told him that he was a dork was the day when Steve felt his heart swell because finally, he wasn’t being too much.

And then Barb disappeared and monsters turned out to be real.

Nancy stayed with him but it wasn’t the same anymore. She would still laugh at his corny jokes and affirmations but Steve had seen her distant eyes, no longer bright with the same love. Like she had managed to switch it off by herself.

Steve should’ve split up with her. But he didn’t want to be an asshole and leave her miserable with no support who knew nothing about the Upside Down. But she hadn’t pushed him away or told him his efforts were too much. So he stayed.

If he had left sooner, then Steve wouldn't have been told in a stranger’s bathroom that his love wasn’t just too much, they were bullshit instead.

He couldn’t trust himself with another romantic partner after that.

And then about two years later, he and Eddie started dating.

Everything that Steve had been told was ‘too much’ or ‘bullshit’ became ‘give me more’. More lazy kisses in the morning, more cuddles on the couch, more help with the laundry or dishes, more lovemaking, more, more.

Steve also found out real quick that Eddie loved whenever Steve quoted Shakespeare - especially Romeo and Juliet or Much Ado About Nothing - for no reason except to watch his boyfriend turn and scream delightfully into his own shoulder. Of course, Steve had taken his advantage, dialing it up with the Harrington charm just to make Eddie’s face redder. Whenever he thought that was too much, Eddie turned back around and kissed him with stupid smiles on both of their faces.

For a while, Steve had thought he finally found the perfect partner.

But he forgets that he doesn’t know how to shut his heart down.

—

Steve casually leans against the living room wall, acting totally non-suspicious as hides from view of the front door. He hears it swing open and then Eddie coming inside, the metallic clicking of his crane accompanying his steps. Steve waits just a bit longer until Eddie makes his way to the kitchen. Then he hurries around the corner and giddily wraps his arms around Eddie’s torso, lifting the man up.

“Welcome back-” Steve starts, a petname ready to fall out as he’s ready to bemoan his loneliness. But Eddie’s cold tone makes his jaws instantly clamp shut.

“Put me down.”

Steve obeys, swiftly but carefully as not to agitate Eddie’s leg. He keeps his arms around his boyfriend, squeezing just once in what he hopes comes off as assuring. However, Eddie only stiffens and says in the same cold tone-

“Let me go.”

Steve does. Eddie continues on towards the kitchen, not even glancing over once. Anxiety starts to drill into Steve’s spine, already making its way into the lining of his stomach. Something clearly happened to Eddie that’s putting him in a foul mood.

Tailing after him, Steve finally finds his voice and asks, “Is everything okay?”

Eddie doesn’t respond. He plops down onto a chair, burying his face in his hands. His shoulders are starting to shake. The anxiety shifts into concern as Steve hurries over to his side. “Eds-”

Eddie suddenly slams his hands onto the table, startling Steve back. He whips his head around to glare at Steve, yelling, “Is it too much to leave me alone for one minute?!”

Too much.

Steve swallows the thick lump in his throat, mumbles something he hopes is an apology, and stumbles outside to the backyard. He stares at the pool for a second before he quickly rounds to the side of his house, stopping just along the walls where he always felt the sunlight wouldn’t reach. Steve slowly crouches down to the ground, staring at nothing in particular despite the burning pressure behind his eyes and heart.

He should’ve seen this coming. Actually, he had known the day when Eddie finally had enough of his unbearable actions was approaching soon. They’ve been together for nearly a year. Just as long as Steve had with Nancy before that Halloween party. But Steve’s been living in blissful ignorance, hoping that it wouldn’t happen.

But even that had been too much.

A wet laugh bubbles out of his lips and Steve quickly clamps a hand over it. He feels like a kid, hiding behind his house like he’s avoiding his father instead of Eddie. It’s so stupid but very on-brand.

He lets the tears drop, forcing his hand to remain on his mouth so he can stay quiet. He doesn’t want to upset Eddie anymore.

Crunching stones under shoes approach. Steve doesn’t even look up when he hears a sucking of breath and Eddie’s murmuring voice, “Shit, Stevie.”

Calloused, ringed hands gently cup both sides of his face. Steve barely catches himself from sinking into the grasp. It’s always too easy to enjoy the feeling of Eddie’s hands on his cheeks. Was it too much for Eddie as well?

“Stevie, please look at me.”

Despite his brain screaming at him no, Steve does so. Eddie’s eyes are bloodshot red and tracks of tears practically shine on his face. In another scenario, he would look as beautiful as ever. But instead, he looks like shit.

Eddie’s fingers tap on his hand, the one still clamping over his mouth. Steve shakes his head quickly. He doesn’t want to break down into a sobbing mess and demand Eddie’s comfort.

“I’m sorry.” Eddie rasps out, a line of spittle popping out of his mouth. His voice sounds rough like he had just cried. “I’m so sorry, Steve, I shouldn’t have yelled at you. Work was-” He closes his eyes, shudders out another breath, and opens them again. “What happened at work wasn’t an excuse and never should be. Even if I was exhausted and upset, I shouldn’t have lashed out. I wish I could take those words back, baby.”

Steve finally removes his hand, managing to speak coherent words just before the sobbing finally breaks out. “Am I too much though?”

He catches the horrified expression before Eddie suddenly pulls him forward into a tight embrace.

“You’re never too much, sweetheart. You’re just fucking perfect.” Eddie whispers into Steve’s ear, clear as day.

Steve doesn’t know how they spend kneeling on the ground as his entire body rattles out from crying while Eddie keeps holding him and occasionally gently shushing Steve. Eventually, Steve’s eyes dry out and he feels so tired that he just wants to tuck himself into bed and sleep.

Eddie helps him up and guides him back inside the house. They linger at the foot of the stairs, both of them realizing the same thing.

“Do you… want me to sleep with you still?” Eddie asks softly. He hasn’t let his hand go from Steve’s where it occasionally squeezes around his fingers. It fixes something in Steve’s heart but it’s barely enough to soothe the ache over.

“I-” Steve cuts himself off. Eddie looks at him earnestly, his brown eyes appearing to grow bigger with the still-there shining tears. Steve sighs and continues, “I think I want.. space. Just for tonight.”

Eddie nods, pursing his lips. “So do I. I think that’ll be good for tonight.”

“You won’t leave?” It hurts Steve to ask even though his gut is certain that Eddie will rather chew his hand off than leave.

“I’ll still be here.” Eddie raises a hand up with a small smile. “Especially in the morning when we’re rested and less pissed-off.”

Steve smiles back, “Okay.”

And when the morning does come, Eddie’s still here. When they talk and apologize, Eddie tells Steve again that he never thought of Steve as an unbearable boyfriend.

It makes Steve feel warm from the overflow of Eddie’s love.

#klaus writes #steddie #stranger things #steddielovemonth

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pseudowho · 2 months

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Thinking about being Higuruma Hiromi's workplace bestie.

Thinking about showing up to the office for work one morning, and seeing Hiromi's not there. Automatically, you know your day is going to be long, tedious, dull. Maybe you'll actually get some work done for once.

Still, you'll miss making faces at each other at the meeting which could have been an email. You'll miss his sardonic, snippy responses to courtroom drama. You'll miss the way he calls his wastepaper bin his 'suggestions box'. You'll miss the way he sits, legs crossed on your desk, jiggling his foot constantly as you review case files together.

"Husband not in, huh?" Your colleague teases gently, and you roll your eyes, calling back over your shoulder; "Bestie, not husband!"

You sigh, walking to the office kitchen; his turn to make coffee today, but it's now just coffee for one, sadly--

"No no no, out you go, my turn to make coffee today, you--"

"Hiromi!" You squeal, visibly wiggling with delight, and Hiromi turns around with the coffee pot in his hands, briefly joining in with your happy dance, wiggling too.

"I thought you weren't in, I was ready for such a boring day!" You state, dramatic, giving his upper arm an affectionate squeeze. Hiromi tuts, "As if I'd just leave you to the wolves like that," stirring your pair of office mugs ("Mr" and "Mrs", only semi-ironically gifted to you from your Secret Santa last year).

The rest of the morning is lost in bright colours, in-jokes, corny jokes, office gossip ("You know I don't do gossip," Hiromi chides, black brows furrowed, turning his back on you momentarily...before spinning back round, leaning in and whispering, "Just pulling your leg-- tell me everything, in excruciating detail."), and getting your work done at ruthlessly efficient speeds, so in-tune are you with each other.

The endless days and weeks of being too busy to talk properly, leaving each other goofy post-in notes in files, on desks, on coffee mugs, and gradually more eccentric places-- the inside bottom of his wastepaper bin, under the printer lid, Hiromi somehow manages to sneak one onto the bottom of your shoe.

Hiromi loses almost all of his cases-- you are used to consoling him through this. Every loss wounds him. But why do they start to wound you, too? Before you can think on it too deeply, Hiromi bangs into your office one day, and you gasp, slopping coffee over your paperwork. You look up, about to curse at him--

"...you didn't," you challenge, joy blooming on Hiromi's face, and you realise, jumping up with a cheer and a clap, "You did? Oh, you won, you clever thing you, oh Hiromi!"

Hiromi fizzes like sherbet for the rest of the day, his melancholy blown away by your celebration of him. His favourite work-person-bestie-wife. He could chat with you like this all night, if only you'd let him.

Days without each other become woefully empty. The colours wash out of the walls. You barely laugh. You go home without a sense of achievement, but with the sense of a day wasted in solitude and loneliness. All of your other colleagues notice, eyebrows raised, knowing sideways glances...but you and Hiromi do not. Just work besties.

You give each other affectionate jostles goodbye when you pass each other in the corridor, folders in arms, sometimes transferring them to each other, before jostling again; "love you, byeee" (ironically, of course), as you skip and he lopes away down the corridor.

Except, one day, Hiromi's eyes are dark and distant during the jostle, the handover of paperwork, distracted and lost in something bigger...and absentmindedly he leans in, kissing you on the lips right there in the corridor, "love you, byy-"

You touch your lips. Hiromi's tongue darts out to taste his. You are both stunned, perplexed, blushing and flustered--

-- just work besties.

#jjk #higuruma hiromi #hiromi higuruma x reader #jjk higuruma #higuruma #hiromi x reader #jjk hiromi #hiromi hiromi hiromi #hiromi jjk #hiromi higuruma fluff #higuruma smut #higuruma x reader #jujutsu kaisen higuruma #higuruma angst #hiromi higuruma

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frxxxncx · 7 months

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happy birthday - c. seungcheol

»idol!¡Choi Seungcheol x fem!¡reader.

»Summary: It´s midnight and you´re alone in your apartment for your birthday.

»Tags: smut (MDNI), oral (f. receiving), cunnilingus, pet names, establish relationship, idolau, fingering, countertop oral(?, body worship, dom!seungcheol, sub!reader, reader is mention to have her ears pierced, seungcheol is strong af.

»Words: 1.4k (idk)

note: i feel like as much as Cheol likes people to congratulate him on his birthday, he would try his best to do the same for his partner, idk, it was my birthday like three days ago and i just miss him so much ;c

note 2: Any typo or incoherence that you might find was completely intentional, it’s for the sake of learning about my mistakes.

Your hair tickled on the back of your neck, the soft air of the night making it dance on your skin.

In this particularly cold night, you looked at the moon with a solemn expression in your face, you were sitting in the balcony... alone, with the big and shining sphere who has always been the witness of your bittersweet nights filled in loneliness, but also bystander of those you spent with company.

The memories of his warm body beside you, tugging you into a warm hug seem very distant, like they have been only a long and wonderful dream.

You closed your eyes trying to imagine your boyfriend being there, his hoarse voice congratulating you for your birthday as soon as the clock hits midnight like he always used to do.

Filling your face with kisses and caressing your body with softness, but he wasn't there.

It's been four months since the last time you saw him, his schedule always filled to the brim, presentations, concerts, interviews, flights, pre-recording, you didn't know what to do, you talk all the time, texts, calls, FaceTime, but it's not enough, it's just to little of him for you.

You hugged yourself and the clock rang announcing midnight.

"Happy birthday to me" you said while an uncontrollable tear slipped through your reddened cheek.

You got up, and palmed the dirt of your shirt to get inside the apartment. Dragging your feet, you threw yourself in your bed, crashing into the mattress, hurting your back with the tv controller that was laying there before.

You took the controller from behind your back, to settle in the bed hugging your pillow tightly, arching your back making your shirt -your boyfriend's shirt- lift.

"Fuck, what a nice view" the velvety yet masculine voice of your boyfriend rang in your ears, and startled you sat in your bed.

There he was, standing in the door frame, with a big box of chocolates, a bottle of wine and a cute bouquet of your favourite flowers. His pearly smile lighted the gloominess in the room, making your heart flutter.

"Happy birthday, baby" he said sweetly but with an apologetic smile, maybe thinking you were upset by his tardiness.

You wanted to cry big time, you were certain that he was extremely tired from his rehearsals, but yet you were so happy that he took the time to come.

Euphoric you got out of bed, running to him and jumping on his arms, pinning your legs on his hips and locking your arms in his neck. Seungcheol, was in a tough position, his arms were full with the gifts and now you were clinging onto him like a tick, he has to admit it, his core balance is pretty sick.

Your face rested in the crock of his neck and the woody smell stroke your nostrils, and with that you were sure that him being there was not a dream.

You raised your face, his eyes were like two shining stars and his sweet smile almost made you melt in his arms. With his hands still very occupied, he managed to hug you back and give a loud kiss on your temple.

"I missed you so much" he whispered in your ear, his soft lips caressing your earlobe sending shivers down your spine.

A chill ran down your body making you tighten your grip on his neck.

"I missed you too, Cheolie"

Seungcheol, who was somehow still lifting you, got out of the room and went straight to the kitchen, putting everything in place, the chocolates in the table, the flowers in the pot and the wine, well, the wine in the wine fridge. When his hands were free he decided to sit you in the aisle in the middle of the kitchen.

Your legs and arms untangled from his figure, but he didn't move an inch, with your legs on each side of his hips, he started to leave kisses in the soft skin of your neck, sweet kisses in the freckles of your shoulders, but biting and sucking your collarbone.

His black shirt which you were using was starting to get in the way and quickly he got rid of it. He admired your bare chest, your beautiful and delicate skin, your breasts that fit in his hands just perfectly.

He kept kissing your skin while his hands were now fondling your breast enjoying the soft moans that escaped your mouth. A loud whimper dance away from your mouth, when his lips started to give pecks at your breasts.

He missed you so much, he just wanted you to touch you, draw your whole body with his fingers, engrave every curve of your body in his memory.

The tips of his fingers were now caressing your thighs doing imaginary figures, stroking with care. His kisses got to the base of your stomach, your fingers were starting to curl thrilled.

"God, you're so perfect" he whispered against your belly, making you shiver.

Your hands squeezed tightly the edge of the isle, knuckles whitening at the action and almost losing feeling in your fingers. You laid, your body suddenly feeling heavy, a whine slipped from your lips as Seungcheol’s fingers ran over your clotted cunt, just a little caress over your clothes making you shiver, not even directly and still it felt so good.

He tugged with his thumbs in the elastic of your underwear, stroking faintly with his fingers the journey to your ankles, making your skin burn exquisitely.

Now with your underwear long forgotten in some dark corner of the kitchen, Seungcheol's fingers travelled through the inside of your thighs once again.

As his digits got closer and closer to your core, he stopped, gripping the soft flesh of your legs tightly, making you moan.

Seungcheol put his rough palms in your knees, and testing your flexibility he pushed as much as he could without hurting you, his eyes travelled from your eyes to your cunt, licking his lips at the stirring view, your core sopping in your arousal.

His breath was hot against your wet and puffy lips, how was it even possible for you to feel this worked up when you haven't even started yet?, you were eager to know what was about to come next.

Like two petals the kisses were soft and silky, lips dancing skilfully on your cunt, making you chant his name in an obscene mantra, he drank till the last drop of your arousal, like it was one of his favourite wines.

His tongue strokes over your sex, drawing fat strips with the hot muscle, enjoying your exquisite flavour like a starving man, but also pleased for being able to make you moan just like a porn star.

You could feel his hot tongue inside of you, his nose bumping with your clit, making your toes curl, you are not sure if it is because you love him so much, but Seungcheol is just so fucking good at giving you head, he knew where to touch, where to suck, he knows your body like the palm of his hand and that makes you even wetter.

And when he pressed his big hand onto your belly you felt how the coil that has been building up started to erupt, like firework exploiting inside of you, and when your orgasm washed you over, he drank it all, leaving you a trembling mess, receiving more pleasure from hearing you become such a mess just from giving you head, ignoring completely the hard on pressing painfully against his jeans.

His blonde hair felt soft against your thighs, when he lifted his face to looked at you, you could help but let a pathetic cry slip your mouth, his lips were bright red and glossy, chin covered in your arousal, he was panting, expression denoting adoration, making your heart melt in the spot.

His eyes looked at you lovingly, his tongue licking what it could from your excitement from his lips, his face got close to yours, lips kissing your earlobe feeling the cold metal of your piercing in his lips.

"I love you"

Your chest tightened, happiness overflowing your body, you stole a soft and innocent kiss from Seungcheol, making him laugh.

"I love you too"

"Happy birthday"

"Well now I'll go get your present" he got up and started to walk towards the door but you were confused.

"Wait" you said and he stopped in the door frame to look at you with a smile, head tilted to the side "My presents weren't the chocolates, the wine and the flowers?" the disorientation in your voice was obvious.

"No, that was just a small gift" he furrowed his eyebrows still smiling, yet his expression was showered in disbelief "Do you think I'm broke or something?"

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tasteracha · 26 days

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the storm.

a/n: happy (early) birthday to my shining star xian @forlix i love you so much i ache with it. i love this universe you've created and i love your characters and your beautiful, beautiful mc that i'm so happy you've let me play with.

warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, teasing, pretty tame for me tbh! many big emotions. wc 2.7k. hurt/comfort sex between two people who love each other.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x afab!reader, she/her!reader, based off of xian's lovely crying lightning (you can read this as a stand alone but why would you? xian's fic is phenomenal. please read it.)

as beautiful and wonderful and kind and patient hyunjin is, it’s hard to forget sometimes that his general presence is still exceptionally infuriating sometimes. the days of your loneliness, before the two of you had finally come together into one woven cord instead of two strings dancing alongside one another, were all but a distant memory. overriding that was the smell of his skin in the morning, the glint in his eye when he catches yours across the cameras and fans, the warm weight of his hand steady on the small of your back, protective and possessive. all you knew now was the cracking of lightning across a stormy sky, raindrops hitting your face in a welcome intrusion to your mundane day to day.

the all expanse of the storm did its job well of making you forget that sometimes the raindrops were irritating, too.

they came in the form of him opening one eye slowly as you tried to swipe shadow across his lid, upsetting your plan and making you double back once you’ve scolded him; the air moving around you as he walks away from you after teasing you one too many times; the sound of his laugh when he’s behind the camera of someone, making eyes at the lens that should have been reserved for you only. each one was a piercing cold drop of water to your face, piercing as they fall and sliding down to form a puddle at your feet.

it didn’t escape your notice that you weren’t upset at him, really; it wasn’t his fault that you were spiteful. even thinking the word makes you shiver in disgust - this isn’t you. you had never been one to let your feelings affect your actions, you selfishly prided yourself in your ability to compartmentalize, but he had this hold on you that made you experience things you never thought were possible.

he, of course, finds the entire show encompassingly amusing. you could see the mirth in his eyes from across the room when he meets yours, recognize your own expression in them like a mirror and it made your scowl deepen in it’s permanence. you almost wish for the time when he didn’t know of your affection for him; the surety in his step when he makes you frown is maddening, overshadowed by the smugness he holds in knowing he could make you smile with greater ease. let it be known that you didn’t lack in confidence - your spine is stood high, head held with authority and feet planted firmly on the floor. envy wasn’t something that ever crawled up your legs like ivy over an ancient grecian statue. jealousy, even, seemed too harsh a sentence for your current charge. to put it simply, you were annoyed.

he knows this, of course. he knows you, inside and out, and on your best days it’s a rare gift that you treasure, hidden away in the deepest corners of the closet that is your heart. on your worst days it’s utterly terrifying, the feeling of being laid out to shrivel in the sun with no chance of respite. and wasn’t it ironic that the one thing that made you feel this way was the one that cured you too?

it’s with an embarrassing amount of pleasure that you remind yourself that you are the one he goes home with, at the end of the day. you’re cleaning up your station and you hear his laugh in the background, not directed at you but ringing like sweet bells nonetheless. every brush that returns home into your kit, every lip product that gets swiped into a bag, every charcoal pencil is the ticking of time that needs to pass before he is yours again. simply yours, not belonging to the cameras or the managers or the staff whose stare linger on him for longer than they should be allowed to.

you knew where your talents were - in your art, your ability to read people, your creativity and your drive for perfection. these uncharted waters were not in your skillset, but as hyunjin stalks across the room to reunite with you after what seemed like hours, you took a moment to be grateful that it seemed to be in his. putting yourself in someone else’s hands, feeling the level of trust that you had for him, sent a tingle up your spine, but if anyone was going to take care of you it was him; the thought soothes you like a balm, not enough to be permanent but enough to get you by for now.

“missed me that much?” he crowds into your space to press a light kiss to your hairline, expertly moving his body so that no one could see. “i’ve only been shooting for an hour.”

“keep talking and you’ll get shot,” you mutter, ignoring the heat that rises up to your cheeks as you turn from him to gather your things, aching to be home and in his arms and away from prying stares. his heat is still pressed up against your back, standing as close as he could while still letting you move freely. as much as you want to drag him into some secluded hallway and refamiliarise yourself with the taste of his skin, you had to pull out your endless supply of restraint. getting caught with your hand down his pants in a building that you frequented often was not an outcome that you wished to experience, at least not today.

his hand is warm on the small of your back as he walks you out a series of doors and stairs to the parking garage, the sound of your shoes bouncing off of the walls a bit jarring.

“you looked nice today,” you tell him, honest, as he slides into the passenger seat of your car. the worn seats smell like his cologne and his old bracelet hangs from the rearview mirror - god, even your car was reminding you of how much of your life he encompassed - not that you were complaining about that.

“that was all you,” pride drips from his voice and you catch his soft gaze when you turn to look behind you so you could back out of your parking spot.

“i may have helped, but it’s still your face,” you counter, hand busy on the gear shift, as eager as your heart was to finally get home.

“if i didn’t know you, i would have thought you were obsessed with me,” he says, the biting tease dripping off his tongue like citrus. “with the way you were staring at me, back there.”

“i’ll make you walk home,” you tighten your grip on the steering wheel despite the threat being empty. he knows which threads to tug on without unraveling you, playing you with his words like it was muscle memory.

“you’d make me walk?” he gasps theatrically, pressing his palm to his chest and fluttering his eyes at you. “what if i get kidnapped, or mugged? how would you live with yourself?”

“you’re an idiot,” you deadpan, cursing the betraying fondness that rises up in you.

“your idiot,” he grins stupidly, settling his hand on your thigh as he watches the streetlights shine across your face as you drive. his touch is scalding, long fingers pressing into your very nerves and leaving them flayed out.

“yeah, remember that,” you retort, and you hope he thinks you mean the idiot part.

the remainder of the short drive home was spent in comfortable silence, hyunjin tapping away on his phone with his free hand as you speeded down the freeway. when you park you let out a sigh and your keys jangle in melancholy along with you when you take them out of the ignition. hyunjin presses his fingers into your thigh in a final squeeze before he exits the car, long legs carrying him over to your door before you could blink to open it for you.

walking up the stairs to your third story apartment never felt more relaxing, the breath they stole from you a necessary tax to pay to enter the comfort of your own walls.

you pull him to the bedroom as soon as you walk through the front door, dropping your things in the foyer with as much care as you could muster.

it takes you a couple of seconds to push him to sit up against the headboard, a couple more for him to complain about it, and less than that for you to climb into his lap and press a searing kiss to his lips.

he opens himself to you, open mouth curved into a smile as you lick into it. you taste the coffee you had made for him this morning, the croissant he had eaten during a break, the gloss that you had carefully dabbed across his plush lips.

you want him, no one else could have him. how could you feel this much possessiveness over someone you already hold as yours?

his hands circle your waist and his thumbs press into your skin, holding you against him even as you pull away from him. his lips are left glistening red and he looks up at you with a kind of reverence that you don’t think you’ll ever get used to.

“slow, angel,” he moves his thumbs in slow circles. “i’m not going anywhere.”

“hyune,” you gasp, going lax against him. you’re far too drained to pretend that your entire body didn’t ache for him. “need you.”

“i know,” he shushes you, trailing his fingers up and down your spine. he loves to tease but he’d never do so at your expense; he must sense that your emotional turmoil is bubbling into the direction of a vortex. “you have me. take what you need, baby.”

the reminder that he was yours, though wholly unneeded, sounds so sweet to your ears. your fingers slide up his chest, twisting into the button at his collar and popping it open with practiced ease. you peel the panels of material off of him to expose his sun-kissed skin, abdominal muscles tensing with how he’s holding back from jerking up into your lap.

“what does my baby want, hmm?” he says, voice catching when your hands slide over his chest and brush over his nipples. he groans when you roll one between your fingers and the sound of it makes your heart soar.

“i want you to shut up and take your pants off,” you back off of him to rid yourself of your own clothes, folding them into a neat little pile at the foot of the bed. he shows no such care for his own, kicking off his pants and boxers throwing them along with his shirt across the room. his hungry eyes stay on you the whole time, shining with excitement as if it was the first time he was witnessing you undress.

you climb back over him as fast as humanly possible, the feeling of his bare skin against yours like an eternal gift. you grind down against him, his rapidly hardening cock sliding between your folds and his head catching against your clit. you’re wet, of course you are; you have been since his hand was on your thigh on the car ride home you moan and duck your head, a little embarrassed by how affected you are by such a simple motion.

he braces himself on his elbow as other hand moves to your hairline, brushing a few strands back behind your ear on it’s path towards cupping the back of your neck. he moves closer, lips so close to yours that you can almost taste them again, but before they meet you’re feeling the earth’s weight shift and your own balance break.

“i want to take care of you,” he explains when you look up at him in a daze, dizzy from how quickly he had flipped you underneath him. “let me?”

“i thought i told you to shut up,” you were breathless but the permission still rang true under your words. you’d let him do whatever he wanted, how could you deny such a sweet request?

he grins something wicked as one of his hands slides down your chest towards your lower belly. his fingers part your folds easily and you feel so exposed even though he wasn’t looking. he decidedly keeps his mouth shut even as whines begin to spill from your lips, your eyes fluttering closed as a familiar burning sensation starts to take over your body.

he alternates between rubbing gentle circles into your clit and teasing his fingers at your entrance, so close to dipping inside but not quite. he ducks his head to mouth at your neck, sucking a constellation of marks into your skin until you’re panting into his hair and shaking apart in your orgasm.

he gives you a moment to recover, waiting patiently until you open your eyes to see his fond smile aimed at you.

“what’s that look for?” the snark is completely absent in your voice post-orgasm, and it almost comes out dreamy.

“i can’t even look at you now?” he breaks his unspoken vow of silence to ask. “i can’t help myself. i have the most gorgeous person walking this earth underneath me, looking at you is the tamest thing i can do to you.”

the blood returns to your cheeks as you take in his words. you don’t respond because you didn’t know how; what could you even say to that? he doesn’t seem to mind as he moves impossibly closer to you, leaning a bit of his weight against you. it’s not too much, just enough that you could feel his chest moving with his breaths. he lines his cock up to your entrance, his hips flush against yours as he slowly pushes in.

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding when he enters you fully, every inch settling your frustration as it flows out of you along with the air in your lungs. this feeling was worth all of it, the early mornings and the onlookers and the sharing of him when all you wanted to do was lock him away for you and you alone.

he loves you. he was so in love with you that it poured out of his very being, in his gentle touch and the slide of his lips against yours and the slide of his cock against your walls. each drag of his hips sends burning pleasure up your spine, licking flames against your vertebrae until you can’t move.

you’re so drunk on him that you lose track of time, all of your senses falling away until hyunjin is the only thing you can feel, see, touch. you lose your words, unintelligible syllables trying to shape his name falling from your lips, pressed against the skin of his neck and floating to his ears in a sweet symphony.

it isn’t long before you’re falling apart underneath him, electricity crackling between you as fucks you through your orgasm. he gathers you in his arms as he tumbles over the edge after you, folding himself over you so he can kiss you, and you don’t realize that you were crying until his cheeks come back glistening with salty water.

“god, i love you,” and to this day it still feels like a heavy declaration, the words never diminishing their weight despite the number of times they’ve fallen off of his tongue. “you are everything to me.”

“hyunjin,” is all you can say, but you know he reads between the curved letters of his name. i love you too, you mean the world to me, what would i be without you.

he cares for you like the cracked piece of porcelain that you are, light fingertips tracing along the tear tracks on your cheeks that move to turn you on your side so you could smush yourself into his chest. your hand rests right above his heart, and if you looked close enough you could see the static sparks of electricity that connect the two of you together.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #hyunjin smut #hyunjin imagines #straykidsland #stray kids imagines #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x you

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princessbrunette · 2 months

Text

HOLD ME, KISS ME ♡

♪ the little dippers — forever ♪

WANTED: JOHN BOOKER ROUTLEDGE - SUSPECTED MURDER - $1000 REWARD - DANGEROUS! IF SPOTTED DO NOT APPROACH!

pairing: outlaw!johnb + sheltered!reader ⋆₊⊹♡

synopsis: your wishes come true when a beautiful boy is found sleeping peacefully in your barn. much to his surprise, you don’t care about who he is or what he has or hasn’t done — you just want to ensure he stays forever.

cw: mentions of prayer, religion and god (for plot purpose) reader has two parents, western!au, innocence kink, slight manipulation, mentions of crime, breeding kink, smut ♡

“Please deliver me a man, save me from this loneliness. Make him kind, and strong, and handsome. I vow to make him the happiest man alive.”

Your forehead rests against your clasped hands where you kneel beside your bed, speaking out loud as there was no one else to speak to. Your parents had gone on a trip for two weeks, leaving you in charge of the farmhouse all by your lonesome.

Isolated didn’t feel like the correct term. You were grateful, happy to live off the fat of your father’s land in the middle of nowhere, but sometimes you wished you had someone to share it with. Someone your own age who was there to see you. You had become the perfect host, thrilled when your parents would bring home guests once in a blue moon. You’d tie ribbons in your hair and pick the perfect dress and set the table like your mother taught you. You often imagined setting the table for a family of your own.

Your own farm house. The thought sent you off to sleep each night, walking through the home in your mind as if it were really real, feeling the creaking of the painted wooden porch beneath your feet as you enter, the distant cooing of your baby being comforted by your husband in the next room. White shabby-chic panels across the walls with oak furniture and knitted throw pillows and lots and lots of warm light. The kitchen table would have the perfect lace floral embroidered table cloth draped across it which you’d serve the heartiest dinners on each night. The babies room would be painted mint green, no— maybe pastel yellow, with handmade toys and a music box that played your song and oh, the master bedroom… where you and your husband rest your head would be flooded with natural light. A haven. All yours.

The details to the decoration often changed, new inspiration plucked from the papers that father would bring home and new favourite colours integrating themselves into your home plans but one thing remained the same each time. Your husband. He never had a face, but it wasn’t important. He was warm, strong without having to prove just how macho he was, kind— you could feel his love from the next room on. That was all you really wanted. You could forget the house, forget the land, live in a barn for all you care — you just wanted to experience a love like the ones in the fairytale books stacked high in your room.

It had been a week already of this routine you’d grown used to. You wake up, feed yourself and then the chickens, come inside, clean yourself and then the house, paint, crotchet or read — however the mood takes you, eat lunch, tend to the crops, brush the horses, maybe milk a cow, come inside and cook dinner, bathe, think about your dream husband and grind your wet messy cunt into a pillow, feel guilty, beg for forgiveness and then sleep. It was an easy life, and you couldn’t complain— but you couldn’t help feel the world had more to offer.

Your mother often told you that gifts from above come when you least expect it, you just had to keep your eyes open. You always wondered how one might find these gifts with no idea where to look.

Your gift arrived bright and early the next morning.

Well, not technically as early as it should have been, infact you probably nearly missed it. The roosters calls at 6AM each morning, but on that very day you had decided to sleep in. A few hours wouldn’t kill them, you think as you pull a plush white pillow to lay over your ear— it’s not like the chickens would starve.

At 11:45AM, you stumble bare foot onto the grass outside, setting out on your walk to the barn a little way up the land. Your pert nipples harden, awakened by the cool morning breeze as the thin white fabric of your nightdress blows in the wind. With the sunlight shining directly on it, it was sure to be totally and utterly see through— and you suppose that was one upside to living in the middle of nowhere, yards upon yards from civilisation. No one would see you. Sigh.

You feed the chickens, totally blind before it even occurs to you that anything might be astray. Infact, you don’t even seem to notice that the barn door was left ajar, as opposed to how you usually leave it bolted by a wooden slab to prevent the animals from wandering off or being massacred by foxes. You suppose that’s the price you pay for sleeping in, you live in dreamworld for the next few hours.

The Earth seems to stop turning for a moment when you see him.

You’re more curious than anything, wide eyed, holding your breath as to be totally silent despite having been humming and speaking to the chickens only a moment prior. You tiptoe through the hay, shards of straw sprouting between your painted toes and pin-needling your sole as you draw closer to the man. A fallen angel, your first thought.

He’s half curled up onto his side in the hay behind the stable for your white pony. He has thick-ish arms crossed over his chest, his hat laying over his face seeming to be serving as a purpose to block out the light. You figure as you hadn’t woken up him before, a closer inspection couldn’t hurt. Unhurriedly, you sink down into a squat beside him, knees pointed upwards and feet taking your balance. A real man, in your barn? It couldn’t be. You chew on your bottom lip, goggle-eyed and inquisitive as you cautiously lift the hat away from his face.

He doesn’t wake and you’re for some reason thankful. It gives you time to observe him, the breath all but knocked from your body as you take in just how beautiful he is. He was perfect, and just like what you were hoping for when you wished to be delivered a husband.

Dark eyelashes kissing at the rim of his closed eyes, pale lips and freckles, sunkissed across his nose. Your eyes trail over and across him, now with his face in mind taking in account what he looks like as a whole. You were still in disbelief, a real man sleeping in your barn. But then again, as your eyes skim lower and you notice the blood seeping through his shirt over his stomach — you wonder if he was sleeping. Surely he wasn’t dead? Only God could be so cruel to deliver you the perfect man without a pulse.

So, you press two cold fingers to his neck, searching for the rhythmic beats signifying life. As soon as you do so, the man jolts awake — wide brown eyes meeting yours.

“Jesus.”

This is where the stare off commences— you were sat in a squat giving him a straight shot up your night dress with dome like eyes and parted lips, observing him like he was some sort of alien life form that had happened upon your barn infront of your very eyes. Your chest rises and falls, and his gender fails to betray him as his eyes fall there for a moment, subconsciously noticing the way your bare tits strain against the thin fabric with each exhale. Somewhere in the back of his mind he can’t help but acknowledge that you’re a pretty thing, totally his type. In any other scenario, he might’ve seen you at a local tavern and introduced himself, getting you tipsy and loose, making you giggle beneath his soft gaze and coarse hands in some dimly lit booth before realising he’s far too respectful to take advantage of you like that.

With his eyes open, the picture is complete — and he truly is as beautiful as you thought. He had a puppy like quality to his eyes, they were big and brown but from the sunlight streaming in you could see specks of orange which intrigues you. You wish to look closer, but you feel it’s not the time. His adam’s apple bobs with a thick swallow and he tears his eyes away from yours to look around, still disorientated from sleep. He touches his wound with gentle fingers and he winces, going to push himself up on his elbows.

You open your mouth to speak but he beats you to it, warm deep voice raspy from rest as he dives into a sequence of begging.

“Does anyone know I’m in here?”

“No, I—”

“Okay, that’s— okay, please — hey, please don’t tell anyone. I won’t lie to you, I’m in a little bit of trouble with the law, nothing super bad I swear just — I needed somewhere safe to sleep so I ended up here. Didn’t take anything and uh— and I’ll be out of your hair now that I’m up.” He rambles, continually glancing at the barn doors, expecting Sheriff Shoupe to bust them down and take him in at any moments notice. You say nothing for a moment and he pushes himself to his feet, eyes squeezing shut at the soreness of his injury. “Think it’s easiest if I just—”

He cuts himself off this time, because you slip your hand into his— stopping him from going anywhere. His eyebrows jump up and he freezes on the spot, staring down at your doe eyes with a wide and confused gaze of his own.

“…Hi?”

“You just got here? Why’d you have to go?” You sound sad, and he actually can’t believe what he’s hearing. Not only did he break into your barn, on private land — but he’d totally overstayed his non-existent welcome, and now you didn’t want him to leave?

“P—pardon me? Ma’am?” He tries to be respectful, when what he really wants to ask is along the lines of ‘What the fuck?’.

You scramble to stand up and he helps you using the hand that you’re grasping. “Well, you won’t get far with a wound like that. It could get infected. Maybe you could come inside, let me dress it. You can refuel… maybe stay a few days?” The last part sounds wrong coming from your mouth. He’s a stranger for goodness sake— everything your parents had taught you about safety went against this and plus you were practically begging. You might have been embarrassed, if there wasn’t such a nagging feeling in your stomach telling you that this was meant to be.

He scoffs out a chuckle, because he thinks there’s no way you’re serious— but when he sees your wide eyes bouncing between his own, searching for something he couldn’t quite put a finger on— he realises you’re being completely genuine and his expression melts into a more worried gaze, shuffling a little closer on his feet.

“Look, I really appreciate your hospitality, but you have done more than enough, really. Just the fact you didn’t have the sheriff busting in to drag me away is something I will be very grateful for. Believe me. But I can’t drag you into this. Anyway, don’t you have family? That you live with?”

You sigh, looking down at your intertwined hands that you had yet to release, staring as if you were trying to memorise the feeling of a man’s touch incase you really couldn’t convince him to stay.

“Well yes, but they’re on a trip you see — and they’re going to be away for another week and I’m not sure how much more I can take. I’m awfully lonely, and I know you’re a stranger and all but I could really use the extra set of hands… plus it’s the least you could do… for breaking in…” You feel you’re pushing it with that last part, but decide to proceed with it anyway, any means necessary to get him to stay. He bites his bottom lip in thought as you stare up through your lashes and he thinks screw it. He’s sure you’re not setting him up, a little thing like you would be far too weak to pull that off.

“Okay, I… don’t see why not then.” He doesn’t sound certain, but you make such a good offer he’d be a fool not to accept. He bends down and swoops his hat off the floor, holding it to his chest and you take his hand once more, guiding him out of the barn.

He presses his lips together in an awkward smile at the way you confidently lead him, almost having to break into a jog to match your eager pace. Once nearing the house, you tell him your name and he nods — taking in the scenery.

You’re sitting him down in the living room before he can blink, and he takes in the setting around him. A real cozy place, a family home for sure — with a pale blue couch, a scratchy patchwork blanket draped over the back and floral cushions. There’s photos of you in multiple spots around the room, an only child — he gathers. The main photo sits on the mantelpiece, framed, a set of parents curtaining your smiling face in the image. You seem to be a few years younger, fuller in the face, still cute as a button.

He doesn’t quite realise you’d gone anywhere until you’re returning — the contents of an old first aid box rumbling in your grip. You give him a reassuring smile and lower to kneel by his feet, opening up the container and fishing around for some cotton pads.

“Do you have a name, mister?”

He clears his throat, trying to gage your reaction once he speaks, attempting to work out if the name rings any bells. “Uh, yeah. John B. John B. Routledge. You might’ve… actually heard of me. If you have, uh— I’m sorry.”

You don’t seem to react in any kind of alarming way, a smile grazing your face as you pour rubbing alcohol onto a soft white pad.

“Heard of you how? Are you famous?”

“…You’ve never seen those big ‘Wanted’ posters up in town? Kinda got my picture up on one of them.”

You peel up his shirt revealing tanned, toned skin and a wound that had crusted over with blood. You press the pad to it and he winces, knuckles turning white in his lap and head lulling back against the seat for a moment.

“Sorry.” You furrow your brows apologetically before continuing to mop up all the dried blood. “Oh, and I’m not allowed up in town. Not by myself anyway. So, I don’t keep up to date with all that… stuff.” You pull away, rifling through the box for another clean pad. He nods, eyes jumping to look at his wound and then back to you, watching your face for any discomfort regarding his presence. Oddly, there was none. If it wasn’t clear before, it’s wildly apparent now that you’ve truly been sheltered your whole life. There was this innocence you carried that was hard to come by, a lack of judgement that was sweet but made him worry for you slightly. You were lucky he had a good heart.

“That’s… probably for the best, actually. You know, they like to tell lies. I’m being falsely accused.” He speaks a little slower, and enunciates the last part as if you might not understand, and as expected— you hang onto every word, lips a little parted and wide eyed. It’s pretty cute, albeit inappropriate considering he’s a stranger.

As he speaks, you wrap his wound, pressing the sticky part down onto his skin before gently pressing the cotton covering his injury. “Well I’m really sorry about that John B. You don’t have to worry about that anymore.” You chirp, before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss over the dressing, pulling back to offer him a sweet smile. The lines on John B’s forehead smooth out, his concerned expression melting into his own gentle smile of disbelief.

He wonders what the odds are that he’d stumbled upon a real life angel. Well, it was that — or you wanted to chop his body into tiny pieces whilst he slept and add it to your cauldron. He couldn’t quite figure it out yet, but you were pretty — and he was a total loverboy, so stupidly he was willing to take that risk.

He pulls his shirt back down over his now dressed wound and you begin to clear your things back into the first aid box.

“Is there anything I can do for you? Like, anything you need help with around here?” He offers and you look up at him, brows furrowing with adoration.

“Goodness, no— I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“Said you needed an extra pair of hands earlier.” He challenges with a smile.

“I only said that to get you to come inside. With your injury, I couldn’t possibly put you to work.”

He scrunches his face a little with a half scoff, half smile and shrugs one shoulder. “Please, this thing? It barely even stings. Come oooon.” He croons with a smirk, and you really feel the full effects of his charm now— the warm timbre of his voice headed straight to your clit giving it a heartbeat of its own.

“Fine.” It comes out airy with a giddy smile and you take his hand yet again, almost getting distracted by the coarseness against your palm, the sight of bulging veins along the backs of them.

Your bare feet are treading lightly over soft wood chip once more as you lead him toward the destroyed fence round the left side perimeter of the farm.

“So… I suppose you could carry all the planks back from the fence that fell down in that awful storm last week. I was gonna wait for my daddy to get home to get him to do it ‘cus I’m much too weak for something like that.” You point, and John B’s brown fluffy head follows your finger to the destination at hand. He nods, a doable task.

“Well a girl like you shouldn’t be lifting a finger anyway.” He turns his head back to face you with a smile, eyes squinted in the sun. He looks radiant, no sign of pain anymore and you look down at your night gown, scrunching it in your clammy hands with an uncontrollable grin at the floor, harbouring such an innocent crush on the boy already that you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

His gaze stays on you for a tick whilst you step quietly and he speaks up again, tilting his head a little inquisitively. “I really, really hope this doesn’t sound rude… ‘cus I don’t mean to be. But… are you not… married?” He trails off, thinking of all the times he’s been walloped round the head in taverns for asking questions of a similar nature. Your smile doesn’t go away, your gentle nature not retiring for a moment.

“Oh no, no. I don’t meet boys often. Thats why I’m happy you came!” You chirp, hand reaching out to softly squeeze his arm. “Can be like husband and wife whilst you stay round.”

He just laughs in response. Not necessarily in a mean way, but the same way you laugh when a child tells you they’re going to be an astronaut when they grow up.

The brutal beating of the sun does nothing to stop the honest work you’d put the self proclaimed outlaw up to, he seems to be deep in thought often — carrying the planks to and fro. You slip inside for a while to change into something more appropriate, a sweet and floral sundress that ties up at the straps and hugs you in a more womanly way. You’d rubbed your lips together as you fixed your hair in the mirror before bringing him a sandwich in the early afternoon. “You are adorable.” He grins when you do so, and it wasn’t quite the reaction you’d hoped for on your dress but it still made you warm in the face. He simply brought out a true primal bodily reaction from you— that’s why you’d skipped the panties under your dress. He was making you excited and slippery down there and you just didn’t see the point. You stay out for hours at a time to chat with him. Your affections grow.

John B. Routledge finally returns back to the house when he’s all finished and you let him lay down for a nap on your couch, finally getting some real rest in. Whilst he does so, you spend hours preparing a hearty meal — the type you reserve for when mama and papa have guests round. As the pie browns off just a moment longer in the oven, you come to the man’s side, kneeling beside him and stroking his fluffy hair back.

“I made dinner. Sure you’re really hungry.” You whisper and his eyes flutter once more, the arms that were crossed over his chest stretching out as he wakes. You sit back to give him space, and when he opens his eyes you’re there with a smile — the orange beam of sunset haloing your head. Something about an angel drafts through his mind once more and he stretches.

“Oh boy, I slept longer than I was meant to huh?” He sits up and you shrug, leading him through to the kitchen where you’d laid the round table. Steaming seasoned vegetables in a bowl, freshly picked by you. Warm bread, baked and scored by you with flowers the centrepiece of the table. A jug of gravy there too. There’s a tray of mashed potatoes waiting, creamy and delicious looking. Routledges stomach audibly growls and he chuckles at this as he sits down, taking in the scenery you’d laid out. “You… have spoiled me. All this for someone who breaks into your barn?” He chuckles as he lowers himself into the seat.

You follow him round the table with a giddy smile. “Told you I like havin’ guests.” You perch your bottom on his leg, an arm wrapped around his neck as your feet swing. It felt right. You’d always wanted to sit with a man this way, you’d seen it before in the picture shows. Man and wife, domestic bliss. His brows jump up and he clears his throat awkwardly.

“Oh… sweetheart, you shouldn’t do that. I am a— a stranger, after all.” He tries to do the responsible thing, even though there was something about your innocent brashness that was turning him on beyond belief. Your eyebrows knit in the centre, a line between them and your bottom lip seems to have doubled in size from how it pushes out.

“But I like you?” You mewl, rejected. It all seems so simple to you, which is probably feels super unfair. No one had taught you how to address men because you were so sheltered, and now it was giving you all of these complicated feelings that John B would have to deal with.

“And I like you — a whole bunch. You know I’m super grateful for you taking me in and… all that good stuff. But sitting right here is gonna… make me excited. Because I’m a guy. Go ahead and hop off for me.” He taps your lower back gently and you huff, feeling upset and rejected about the whole thing. His eyes are all wide and hopeful as he stares at you, like he wanted to make sure you were okay. The way he handles you so sweetly made your stomach stir despite your current mope.

You drag your feet to the oven comically and he stifles a chuckle at how dramatic you were, despite his sympathy. You place your hands into oven gloves and take out the pie— perfect and golden. You walk it to the table and John B sits up a little straighter, eyes darting between you and the food.

“Did this all by yourself? You have got a real knack for cooking. Should put you on the TV.” He grins, switching on the charm to attempt to loosen up your silent sulk. You nod, eyes casted down childishly and he reaches out to touch your arm. “Thank you, pretty girl.”

A small smile slips out, and he flickers his eyes over to the heart shape you’d scored onto the pie, his own lips twitching up into a smirk. “That for me?”

“Maybe.”

“Hmm.”

You end up giggling, his smile too infectious and your bad moment is all forgotten as you serve him a slice, plating up for him and then yourself before you eat. John B digs in ravenously, it’s almost erotic — the way he’s groaning at how good it all tastes, gravy dripping from his lips as he licks more off his fingers. He was clearly less proper-mannered than you, but you liked that. Table manners were for boring old people anyway. Maybe everything about him got you going, but you had to really concentrate on getting some food inside you instead of just watching the show of eating he was putting on.

Once you’re finished, and he’s finishing up on his third helping — you let your giggles die down from the wild goose chase story he relayed for you, one where he of course wound up the hero which only made your heart beat harder for him. Your socked foot begins to prod at his ankle, sliding up his leg until it rests in his lap. He doesn’t seem to mind, the food having lowered his guard just that bit as he leans back in his chair, undoing his belt. He adjusts his hips on the seat as he does so and your thighs clench.

“So what did you think?” You ask, though you think it’s clear that he liked the meal from the empty plates and unbuckled belt. He lets out a long satisfied sigh, gazing at you for a moment with a kind smile.

“I think, whoever gets to marry you is a lucky son of a bitch.” He presses his lips together, almost like he was disappointed about the idea of you with another. You blink, the hands resting beneath your chin dreamily slowly falling to play with eachother on the table.

“Why not you, John B?” You question sadly, giving him those eyes again. The ones that tug on his heart and made him wanna give you everything and anything you ask for. He lifts a napkin, bringing it to his mouth as he shakes his head dismissively, closing his eyes with a frown.

“Mm—mm.” The tissue fabric muffles the sound. “You don’t wanna marry me, believe me — okay, I’m an outlaw. Your parents would never in a billion years accept me. Anyway you… you deserve someone less rough and tumble, you know? Like a prince from a storybook. A bubblewrap life. Not… whatever this is.” He gestures to himself, more so the browned blood stain on his shirt.

You sigh, determined. “My parents would understand. They’re — they’re generous people.”

“Really? ‘Cus they don’t even let you leave the house.” He quips quickly in response, smirking at your naivety and you fall silent for a moment. His face flattens just a tad from guilt. You were far too soft for that kind of tone.

When you look up at him again, your face is more solemn — wide eyes searching his for a shred of understanding. “You don’t understand, John B. There are actual scary, dangerous men out there that would take me and do terrible things to me.”

The outlaw leans his elbows on the table, his lips stretched into an amused smile at the irony. There wasn’t an inkling of threat about the gesture, pure amusement coursing through the energy between you from his side alone. “And how do you know I’m not one of those scary, dangerous men. Hm?” His voice is warm, it seems to rumble straight from his chest. You release a shaky sigh.

“Well you haven’t hurt me yet?” Your voice lilts out, and you engage in a long stare off. There’s a different kind of tension in the air now, it’s hot and feels heavy on you. It oozes into the nooks and crannies of your balmy skin and slithers between your thighs. You can’t take the heat and you stand, beginning to bring his dishes to the sink to wash. It’s quiet for a while, John B watching you with this thoughtful and almost knowing smile as you tidy up around him. Even he couldn’t run from how good ‘domestic bliss’ felt.

You let yourself indulge in the fantasy too. Wife cleans up, husband sits behind at the table and sips at the drink she poured him. You wanted nothing more than to experience this everyday, and your heart sinks sadly at the fact that this will probably be the last. You lose yourself to thoughts and daydreams as you scrub away, to the point you nearly don’t hear him stand up, slowly walking to lean against the sink beside you.

You smile at him politely as he eyes you, and return your gaze to the plate in your hand. You mustn’t dwell. He moves, and soon he’s behind you, a hand resting against the sink beside your hip, head craning round to look at you from the other side. “You’re really serious about this husband and wife thing, aren’t you?”

“Very serious, sir.” You bat your lashes at him earnestly and his cock stirs in his pants at the title, unexpected but not unwelcomed. Bless your heart, you were only being courteous. He presses his lips together in thought and the side of your face warms with his slow exhale. Turning your body, you face him fully now. “I just think it was divine intervention that you wound up in my barn. You’re like an angel sent to take away my loneliness.” You’re shy, a little bashful about your beliefs and without thinking he cups your cheek in reassurance, thumb swiping slowly over the skin.

His eyes take in your every detail, and your lips part with a wobbly breath, nervous. “May I kiss you, John B?” You address, just as his thumb strokes the delicate skin below your eye. He grins, slightly amused by your formality and simply nods his head.

You stand on tip toes to reach him, socked feet almost knocking at his boots as your body presses to his, lips meeting. You’re a little messy, inexperienced— which comes as no surprise to the boy as he tilts his head, welcoming your mouth at another angle and taking control in order to guide you. You’re mostly a quick learner, slowing your pace to something much more sultry and he nearly can’t contain his excitement. He wants to be a gentleman, but as soon as he introduces his tongue — you lose composure, needy and all but panting into his mouth right then and there in the kitchen. He pulls away and breaks the string of saliva that connects your lips with his thumb, stroking it over your moist bottom lip as you stare at him readily.

He tilts his head, eyes wide and almost innocent as he gestures away. “You… want me to show you what husbands do with their wives?”

You nod so hard your eyes nearly roll back like one of those baby-dolls.

John B is the one to take your hand this time, leading you slowly and carefully through the house. You partially think he’s giving himself time to rethink what he’s about to do, but from the way your pussy is drooling into your panties — it feels set in stone. He finally reaches your bedroom and you watch his head move left and right as he takes it in, cheek lifting with a smile at the China dolls on the wall and the frilly white bedsheets. It’s clear your room hasn’t changed since you were a little girl. The sun is just starting to disappear behind your lace curtains and he switches on the lamp, sitting you down.

The man joins you, easing himself down at your side and cupping your cheek as he begins to kiss you again. He takes it slow, but the passion and need only grows as the splayed hand on your back begins to slide upwards until its cupping the back of your head and he’s beginning to slowly lower you to lie down like you’re made of glass.

Naturally you shuffle up the bed and he follows, hovering over you and leading with his tongue this time — the wet muscles wrapping around eachother languidly making you moan, legs falling wider apart.

“I wanna make you feel really good, okay? That okay with you?” He asks gently and you nod, sucking in a breath. You’d waited for something like this since you knew what pleasure was, craved the touch of a man with strong coarse hands and a wet mouth. Routledges thumbs swipe across your tits through your dress, massaging them until your nipples were poking painfully through the fabric as he burrows into your neck, licking and sucking.

Your whole body feels like it’s on fire as he tugs gently at your dress, eyes meeting yours once more.

“Let’s get this off, yeah?”

He tugs the garment up and over, puffing out his cheeks as he blows air out his mouth, brows raised at the sight of your naked body. You look so soft, so pliable beneath him. He was already hard just from kissing you, but this made him feel like he might combust. “Took your underwear off?” He smirks, pressing kisses to your stomach and between your tits before bringing his face up to eye level with you, same kind but teasing smile on his face. “Have you been needing me aaall day? Hm?”

You turn your head to the side, flustered and clammy with a whine— eyes screwed shut. He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Oh, now you’re shy?”

“No, s’just — when you speak like that— n’say stuff like that… makes me hurt…” You’re breathless, hips twitching and bucking slightly as he grins, pearly whites showing.

“Aw.” Is all he manages before continuing his descent down.

He’s a real tease, spending an ungodly amount of time on your tits— sucking, licking and biting your nipples until you’re arched off the bed, teary eyed and wincing from sensitivity. It’s then, and only then he starts to kiss lower, pushing himself down your pristine sheets until he’s settling between your legs, gently easing your ankles upwards so that your knees faced the sky, your cunt fluttering and open right infront of his face.

“Well she’s very pretty.” He smiles up at you, thumbs coming up to spread you. He leans in slowly, hot breath fanning over your heat before he simply presses the softest kiss to your clit. He draws back again as you whimper, running the pads of his thumbs up along your spread folds. “Hear that? So wet, pretty girl.” He marvels in a whisper.

“Just want you to make it better.” You mewl and he nods slowly in understanding, tongue swiping over his lips as he observes you.

“That I can definitely do.” He confirms before leaning in, licking and sucking at your clit as his thumb automatically rolls downwards to massage your hole. You gasp, knees shooting up towards your chest as he eats you, similarly to the pure fervour and passion he only recently devoured the meal you cooked for him. You wondered how any appetite remained.

When he sinks his middle finger inside you, your stomach tenses — a high pitched noise of relief and utter devastation leaving you. You had no idea how badly you’d craved fullness to this very moment, and you weren’t even halfway there. He’s smiling against you, glancing up as you flutter around his single digit and make plenty of noise for him. “Yeah? Think you’ve really been needing some of that, little girl.” He nearly laughs at your extreme reaction. He had to admit, it was fun doing this with someone so inexperienced. Everything to you seemed like the best thing ever.

He eats and eats away, proving himself to have quite the monstrous appetite for your slick . Your feet rest on his shoulders at one point, lost in pleasure as you whine and writhe and to keep you out of the way, the outlaw pushes your legs up and pins them there, nose deep in your gloss.

“Feels too good— feels— hurts!” You cry, because you don’t know how to put that you’re simply aching to cum.

“Doesn’t hurt, sweet girl. Just let it happen.” He corrects in that low reverberation that you’ve grown to love. After a series of ‘Uh’ and ‘Mm’s, you feel yourself hitting that peak — the one you usually reach all over the soft cotton of your pillow, but ten times the strength.

As soon as he senses this happening, he doubles down and continues repeating the same action with his mouth over and over until you’re squealing and pushing him away, curling into a ball as your completion dribbles out of your quivering hole.

He grins, real proud of himself as he pushes up on his hands to near you, gently shushing you the same way you would to soothe a baby to sleep. “I know, that was a lot huh?” He coo’s, rubbing your back with his warm hand as you suffer the aftershocks, clenching and whimpering, a smaller clammy hand reaching out to his shirt to grab a fist of it.

He forces you softly onto your back, stroking a hand over your warm forehead. For someone so convinced the two of you shouldn’t be together, he sure did look at you like you were his entire world. By the gaze shared, you would never know the two of you only met that morning.

“What now, hm?” He smiles, quiet. You open your mouth to speak, and your voice rasps from the loud and explosive release that had you calling out.

“Wanna… make you feel as good as you made me feel, John B.”

He licks his lips, thinking over it. If it wasn’t already clear, his dick was throbbing in his pants just from pleasing you— and had you wanted to end things there he would be sure to take a trip to the bathroom to finish in his hand. Maybe swipe a pair of your underwear from the basin for inspiration, but that made his stomach tense with guilt.

“Think I can manage that, yeah.” He nods before reaching slowly for his belt. “Sure?”

“Mhm.”

“Good, good.”

His belt is still undone from after dinner so he slides the snakey leather from its loops with one hand, the act more attractive than you anticipated which made you clench once more with need. He sits on the edge of the bed and you usher up beside him, pressing your naked body to him and ghosting your drooly lips over his jaw line as he sighs, working his length out of his pants.

“Oh my.” You breathe, as soon as you look down. Now you hadn’t had much experience in dealing with the male anatomy, clearly — but you knew for certain John B had to be miles larger than the average man. His cock stood tall, straight — slightly mauve towards the tip with a beautiful blue vein drifting down his shaft like a river on a mountain. His balls sat beneath, heavy and pink — inviting in a way that made your mouth water primally.

“Yeah? This is… what m’working with.” He chuckles, sounding a little nervous.

“How do I…” You mutter after a moment and he’s quick to take your hand, pressing your fingers so that it forms a cup and bringing it to your mouth.

“You wanna spit for me, pretty? Right here.” He encourages and whilst you don’t understand, you do as he wishes, letting a bubbly glob of saliva drool out into the cupped crevice of your hand. You look up at him with wide unsure eyes, searching for praise or reassurance that you’d done as he asked. He presses his lips together at the sweet and submissive expression, shifting his hips a tad in excitement. “Mm, fuck.” He punctuates with an airy chuckle, ticking his head in a single shake.

He brings your hand down and begins to smear it all over himself, releasing a shaky exhale as he does so. “So, uh… you’re gonna wanna move your hand. Just like this.” He sighs as he works your hand up and down his shaft, slowly jerking him off. Your eyes flicker between his face and pretty dick to make sure you were doing it right. As you do so, he presses a lingering kiss to your lips, muttering a “So sweet, bubba.” Against your mouth.

This only encourages you to gain confidence, doing whatever feels right. You twist your hand— squeezing just a tad harder towards the tip as that seemed to be what made him release that heavenly groan, jaw constantly agape as he watches your hand.

“Theeere you go sweetheart. Easy right? Like milking a cow.” He kisses your temple briskly once more before his eyes screw shut, chest heaving with quicker breaths. You get carried away, fascinated by the pearly precum that seeps from his slit as you work him with your hand and following your own judgment you lean down. You figure if he used his mouth on you, you could return the favour.

His eyes open with a loud shudder when you tentatively wrap your plush lips around his tip, working your hand up and down to try and squeeze more of the interesting salty flavour from him. You let out a long drawn out moan of your own as you feel your clit throbbing with desire, liberating his precum from your mouth to let it dribble back down his shaft in messy bubbles.

He winces, placing a hand on your shoulder and removing you with such an abrupt speed that you nearly flew off the side of the bed. You sit up straight, slick mouth pouting as your eyes flicker between his, worrying that you’d done something wrong. There’s a second of just looking at eachother, before you stumble over some words.

“S—Sorry. Did I hurt—”

“No, no God no. I uh— I just wasn’t sure if I should make a mess all over that pretty face just yet.” His wide eyed expression melts into a reassuring smile, thumb rising to swipe lovingly at your cheek. You lick your lips, savouring the taste of him and nod — not quite sure where to go from there.

Your silence makes him question, and he eyes you. “Is there… anything in particular you want now?”

You think, blinking your doll-like eyelashes off into the distance before nodding once more— pushing off away from him and scurrying to the head of the bed where you lay yourself gently on the pillows.

“Hm?” He follows up in confusion, craning his neck round to watch you.

“Would… like a baby now, please.” You spread your legs a little, shy and bashful in your request like you wasn’t sure if you’d asked impolitely. His face falls as he stares at you for a moment before closing his eyes, rubbing over his face with an exasperated chuckle, elbows on his knees.

As you stare at him with with an upset little pout, already ashamed by your forwardness. “Like husband and wife?” You try to justify and he sighs out his nose, turning his body fully to you.

“Oh sweet girl.” He tugs you gently lower toward him by your hips, rubbing his thumbs at your waist. “We just met.”

You launch into full fledged begging, whiny and high pitched with tears threatening to dive over their trough. “I’ll make you so happy John B, I’ll make all your problems go away and you won’t have to run anymore. Please?” You were deadset on this man giving you your dream life, and you’d officially pushed shame to the side in order to get this. His brow is permanently creased, staring with those big wide puppy dog eyes, continually stroking your skin in hopes to calm you.

“Are you… sure that’s what you want? You’re still young. So much time for all that.”

“Just want it now. I’d never be lonely again.” You sound defeated, staring down away from him now. He felt bad, he’d always hated disappointing people. Once upon a time he was a fixer, always running to his friends aid to make their problems go away. That urge never died, just burned low and quiet like an old candle flame. He wanted to make your problems go away too.

“Okay.” He presses his lips together. “I’ll give you what you want, sweetheart.”

He watches your devastated expression lift into a radiant grin, and it was like watching the sun appear from behind a grey cloud after weeks of downcast weather. “Yeah?” You chirp toothily as he crawls over you, leaking tip grazing your tummy and then your folds as he buries his face into your neck.

“Uh-huh.”

When he pushes his tip inside, John B says a prayer for the first time in his life.

He’d never really followed any religion. His father had been the type to say it was all a bunch of ‘Mumbo jumbo’ and that he should believe in the human psyche instead, or something like that. But as your wet folds swallow him and you release that high pitched mewl at the inevitable stretch — he finds himself asking God — please, please don’t let me knock this young girl up.

There’s a warm blanket of chills that cover his spine as he slowly sheathes inside of you, feeling like he was pushing deeper and deeper into a black hole that would selfishly keep sucking him inside for the rest of his life. It felt too good, calming — like falling asleep. He was euphoric.

“So — so big inside me!” Your cry knocks him out of his thoughts and he kisses your shoulder before looking down to watch himself push in all the way to the hilt.

“Feel okay, gorgeous?”

You nod, a pained whine falling from you as you dig your nails into his skin, walls fluttering around him like they were constantly trying to accommodate for this thickness. “Fuck.” He groans, before sliding back a little and starting to thrust. Yeah, he wasn’t gonna last too long— he needed to get to work on you fast.

As he gently fucks into you, your plush tits recoil with the movement and he can’t close his mouth, sounds and sighs leaving him without permission. A hand slides between the two of you, the other pulling his shirt up to grip between his teeth— giving himself a better view of the way he strokes at your clit — your legs being spread exposing it, making it easier for him.

You clench, and shudder — that sweet face contorting with each time his tip ever so slightly grazes your cervix, careful not to bruise it. You really were beautiful, that type of homely beauty he’d thought of marrying in his lonely nights of travelling through desert and grass. The type of girl you work for, the type that deserves spoiling, princess treatment. The more he fucks, the more he’s convincing himself that impregnating you might not be the most awful thing after all. Why should he chase away security?

Your fingertips grace his chest, and he takes your hand — pinning it to the bed as your fingers intertwine, using the grip to aid his rolling thrusts— speeding up the pace and force now he knew you could take it like a champ. His mouth opens to speak, and his shirt drops out of it.

“Taking me real good baby. You like getting fucked, don’t you?” He coo’s and you can only nod, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes before rolling down to your temples. Poor thing, lost for words.

There’s a wet slapping sound with each thrust, your cunt equally gushing as it was thirsty — hungrily welcoming each inch of his, and even demanding more by locking your ankles around his lower back. Perhaps you did it for comfort, or perhaps because you suspected a hesitance, the threat of him pulling out last minute too much for your baby-crazed brain.

“Jesus. Sweet little puppy.” He breathes like it’s a revelation beneath your ear, the curly tuft of hair above his shaft tickling you as he continues to rub your clit.

“S’gonna happen again, John B. The big feeling.” You strain, eyes clamped shut and sniffling— too overwhelmed by your impending orgasm. He kisses each eye lid and watches you closely, experiencing you unfold once more.

“Thats my good girl. Let me have it, pup. Gimme a good one.”

You’re an explosion of whimpers and moans, thrashing under his firm grip once more— and he’s not sure when your orgasm ends, if it even ends at all— he doesn’t care, the release pushing him close to his own. He speeds up his pace, hand that was at your clit now wrapping around your lower back, forearm pushing your lower half up and against him, forcing you to just keep taking him.

He was like a beast from a fairytale book, fucking wildly into you with a primal determination that had you struggling to breathe. You’re crying now, full out crying because it’s just so much. There’s still one last thing you require, and only he can give you it.

“You wanna make me daddy, huh?” He demands, that gentleness in his voice gone. It’s nearly unrecognisable from him, and you preen beneath the rough touch.

“Mhm!”

“Words.” He barks. He didn’t mean to be mean, he just got a little bossy when he was close. You’d come to learn that.

“Please give me a baby. Please just — make you a daddy! Need it!” You’re squealing, voice shaking from the hard ‘plap plap plap’ of his balls slapping against you. You feel you might pass out if this goes on much longer.

He releases with a long groan, lips dropping to the centre of your chest and back arching upwards. You register his sounds before you feel it, hot slimy ropes of him— shooting up inside you, warming your walls. You moan too, because it feels so good to be full. It feels right, like this was what had been missing after all.

Everything is a blur for the next few minutes. It’s like you black out a little, because maybe you forgot to be breathing like you should have been. You briefly recall John B scooping you up and helping you through that, ignoring the gooey seed dripping from you to cradle you like a baby, humming a calm “Breathe, sweetheart. In and out. With me, c’mon.” Your gentle boy was back, and through your haze you smile.

Once you’re tucked at his side beneath a soft cotton blanket, his hand stroking over your head after cleaning you up, a whispered conversation ensues.

“Do you really like me John B? Like, you really think I’m beautiful?” You inquire, gazing up at him with stuck together black eyelashes. The question was so innocent, yet he could tell it was so meaningful.

His expression doesnt falter, a gentle smile sat comfortably on his lips as he continues to pet you. “Baby, I think you’re the ponds swan. Just… gotta get to know you a little better, okay? ‘Specially if I really did put a baby in you.” Only then his smile falters, brows knitting as the reality sets in. Oh Lord.

“Okay.” Your eyes flutter closed, happy to leave it at that, happy to fall asleep right by his side under his watchful eye. It was unnerving how safe a lonely girl could feel with a stranger.

“Okay. Good girl. It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out.” He quietly reassures, watching you drift off. He’s not sure if he’s trying to dispel your fears, or his own.

#outlaw!johnb #john b fic 🎀

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killxz · 3 months

Text

Valentine's Day 💌

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

a/n: happy valentine's day! i rushed to get this finished by today

You wait, tapping your finger against the wood of the table impatiently. Where was Jason? He was late, again.

"Are you ready to order, ma'am?" The waiter asked you.

"Oh! Uh, sorry, not yet. I'm still waiting for someone," You say to the waiter sheepishly. The waiiter gave you an understanding nod before leaving. You whipped out your phone, beginning to furiously text Jason's phone.

Me: Where are you?

No reply. You sigh, fustrated. You decided to order a drink first while waiting for Jason. You were rightously annoyed. It's not like he was late to every date, but there was a few times he was considerably late. When your drink arrived, you sipped on t, eyes darting across your surroundings to see if Jason would appear. You checked your phone. No reply. You tsked and put your phone facedown on the table. So much for having a sweet valentines day.

As you sipped on your drink, the bitterness of the coffee matched the tinge of disappointment settling in. The ambiance of the cafe seemed to mock the absence of Jason, and the minutes continued to slip away.

You glanced at your phone again, still met with the silent screen. Frustration morphed into a more somber realization that your Valentine's Day plans were unravelling. The warmth of the cafe felt insufficient to dispel the chill of disappointment.

Taking another sip, you debated whether to wait a bit longer or cut your losses. The sounds of conversations around you became a distant hum as you replayed the scenarios in your mind, wondering why Jason hadn't shown up or responded.

The waiter approached once more, this time with a sympathetic smile. "Are you ready to order now, or would you like a few more minutes?" they inquired.

You sighed, "I'll give it a little more time. Thank you."

As you gazed out the cafe window, the city lights twinkling in the evening, you couldn't help but feel a pang of loneliness amidst the Valentine's Day festivities around you.

After waiting for about 30 more minutes, you gave up and gathered up your things, slamming a twenty on the table to pay for your drink and tip the patient, sympathetic waiter.

Just as you gathered your things to leave, the door to the cafe swung open. Startled, you turned to see Jason rushing in, panting. His hair was tousled and he was breathing heavily. The panic on his face was obvious, and he quickly scanned the room until his eyes met yours. He shouted your name.

"Wait, don't go!" he exclaimed, breathless. "I'm sorry I'm late! I really am. There was something going on at work and my phone died-I'm really sorry!" Jason felt scared. He was so scared that you would leave him, like his parents, like Bruce when he died.

With shaking hands, he thrust a boquet of your favourite flowers and a box of Godiva chocolates into your bewildered hands. "I'm...sorry, please don't break up with me." He mumbled.

"Break up with you...? Why-why would I do that?" You were stumped. Sure, you and Jason had been dating for years, but does he rreally think that you would break up with him over this?

"Because...because I was late and made you mad," Jason gave you puppy dog eyes. You chuckled to yourself. For being a big, jacked vigilante, Jason can be a big baby sometimes, and that's what you love about him. He always lets his guard down around you.

"I'm not mad anymore," You assured him, hugging the flowers and chocolates closer to yourself. "You're here now, that's all that matters." You got up on your tiptoes to give him a peck on the cheeks. Shifting the gifts toone hand, you grabbed his hand with your free hand. "Come on, let's go sit."

Jason's hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you towards him, kissing you on the lips. The kiss was long and deep, causing others to stare. When he finally pulled away, he smirked at your red cheeks.

"Happy Valentine's Day."

#killxz #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #batman #jason todd #batboys #jason todd angst #fanfic #valentines day #galentinesday

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sublimitymp3 · 10 months

Note

hi hope you have a nice day :) if you have time could you write hotd's yandere boys (estranged) romantic reaction to his reader wife giving birth to twins? (I apologize in advance if this bothers you or something I swear I didn't mean to :( take care :)

I'm back 😈😈😈

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Aegon was madly in love with you, his darling wife, but he never quite knew how to show it. He had awful habits of drinking, whoring, and gambling, only pushing you further away from him. Each time he'd come crying to you on his knees promising he'd do better, you'd hold him and suppress your feelings, but enough was enough. You were pregnant, carrying his child and he couldn't even make an effort to stop his wanton ways. You were fed up, and rightfully so. You had moved into your own separate apartments, eating your meals alone in your rooms, and avoiding places around the Red Keep you knew your husband would frequent. Eventually, the months passed, and you neared closer to giving birth each day, until one night, your labors finally had begun. Aegon was at some brothel wasting away and getting drunker by the second it seemed. He had no clue you were in the midst of your labors, nor that you would be bringing in not one, but two of his babes into the world. It is only the next day does he wake from his slumber, hungover and feeling ill, does he find out you had given birth. He rushes to your chambers to see you sitting up in bed, cradling two swaddled babes, each one with little tufts of white hair and violet eyes. He'd immediately burst into tears at the sweet sight, begging for your forgiveness and swearing to the old Gods and the new that he would change his lecherous ways for you and his newborn children. Despite your apprehension to forgive him, deep down inside you strangely felt that he would truly honor his promise this time.

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Aemond seemed so cold to you. He was distant and rarely ever spoke to you unless it was necessary. Even when you'd try to initiate conversation he'd only respond cooly with a yes, no, or a simple hum of acknowledgment. You'd tell yourself at night when you lay alone in bed that it could've been worse. He could've been prone to striking you, or he could flaunt paramours in your face. He could've been a drunkard, a wastrel, or a cruel and sadistic husband. However, your efforts to comfort yourself would be in vain, as the feeling of loneliness festered within.

Despite Aemond being a withdrawn husband, you both had done your duty on your wedding night and so it was no surprise you had fallen pregnant. Unbeknownst to you, Aemond was growing more and more obsessive over you once he had been told you were now carrying his child. He didn't mean to be quite neglectful, he only wished to not overwhelm you with his less-than-normal feelings of obsession towards you. He practically stalked you, despite the fact you two were married and expecting a child. The months passed, and Aemond would open up a bit more, showing bits of care and concern toward you in your fragile state. But even then, his actions seemed cold and his words curt. When your labors begin, Aemond remains in the hall outside the birthing room, despite wanting to rush to your side. He decided right then and there as he heard your screams of pain that he would no longer keep up this distant farce. He didn't care if you'd find his attentions odd, he just couldn't bear to torture himself or you any longer. Once he could hear the wails of a baby, he'd rush into the room to be greeted with the sight of two, small, and wailing babes laying on your chest. He'd come to your side, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he admired your newborn twins with a small smile. You felt hope for your marriage at that tender moment, the first hope you had felt in such a long time.

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Jacaerys loves you so much, he truly does, but sometimes you feel as though he puts his duties of being heir above you. He takes his role extremely seriously, as his mother's claim is already shaky due to her being a woman, and his even more so due to the concerns of him being legitimate or not. He doesn't mean to neglect you, to dismiss your attempts at spending time with him, or to hardly inquire about his babe that grows within you. By the time he notices, the damage is already done. You had given up any attempts to spend time with him, to conversate with him, or to merely be in his presence. It seemed to you that he put his duty before you, and you couldn't see how you could change that. Honestly, Jace is so sweet I can't imagine him not immediately coming to you and apologizing immensely for being an inattentive husband, so for the sake of this, let us imagine he finally realizes the effect his actions have on you by the time you are in the midst of your labors. He'd be pacing outside the birthing room, mentally chastising himself for being so foolish. How could he have ever been so stupid to leave you alone when you needed him most? How could he be so cruel to the one he loved most? Your muffled screams of pain from beyond the door shattered his heart even more, and all he could do was wait in borderline painful anticipation. When the maester does let him in the room, he rushes to your side. He apologizes immensely, kissing your tears away and brushing the hair that sticks to your sweaty face out of the way. When he holds the twins for the first time, you watch him adoringly. Everything seemed right again.

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Ser Criston didn't get to see you much. You two were wedded in secret, as due to his vows as a member of the King's Guard, he wasn't allowed to wed or father children. You were a common girl, living in the city, and Ser Criston spent his days and nights at the Red Keep. He could only visit you on his rare days off, and even then those were kept brisk due to his paranoia someone would discover you. You had always tried your best to be understanding, after all, you knew what you were getting into by being romantically involved with a member of the King's Guard. But an awful thought would always linger in your mind whenever you would see Ser Criston: did he regret marrying you? The thought would persist, never leaving like some parasite that had latched onto you. In fact, as the months passed and your stomach swelled with his child, it only grew. He looked uneasy every time he'd stare too long at your pregnant belly, only feeding that awful thought in the back of your mind. Sometimes, you would even find yourself questioning your marriage to him, doubting it all. Your marriage grew tense, and though none of you voiced these feelings, it was evident the doubts festered within both of you. The day Ser Criston visited you after you had brought his twins into the world, he looked shocked. The color seemed to drain from his face, as he saw them. Not one, but two, living breathing children, evidence he had broken his vows. But the heartbroken expression on your face as you held back tears slapped him back into reality. He would quickly kneel by your side, whispering to you how he loved you and the babes more than anything, and that he regretted nothing. When he finally holds the babes, his smile was so genuine, and his eyes were filled with nothing but love. At that moment, those awful doubts faded from your mind, never to be thought of again.

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Daemon longed for battle. He loved you dearly, and so desperately wanted to stay put with you and your unborn babe. But when the fighting in the Stepstones had begun, and the perfect opportunity to spite his brother for refusing to name him heir arose, he couldn't resist. You had begged him to stay, far too worried for the peril he would most certainly face during battle, and fearing for his life. He brushed you off, leaving you behind.

You spent your nights alone, praying to the Seven to keep your lord husband safe so that your child would have a father. He barely wrote to you, and you found yourself getting more and more frustrated at him for leaving you and your child behind to participate in some war that didn't concern him that much. And it wasn't like he wanted to help for some noble cause, you knew he only joined to spite his brother. Instead of spending the remainder of your pregnancy happy with the notion of your child growing within you, you spent it crying tears of anger and sadness.

When Daemon first hears word from a messenger that you had given birth to healthy twins, he abandoned his petty attempts to establish his own kingdom to spite the king. He would return to you as fast as he could, proud that you had given him two strong and healthy heirs. Daemon wasn't the best at saying apologies and preferred to show them through actions. The Stepstones could wait, all he needed right now was to be with you and the newborn twins.

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when that 3am inspiration pulls you out of your sixth month hiatus 😍

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soulessjourney · 5 months

Text

Vengeance Trail

Paring: Billy the kid x Reader

Word count: 4k

Summary: You and Billy had known each other during your younger years. However, following an argument, you departed to forge your own path, leaving things on bad terms between the two of you. Years later, circumstances led you back, having been recruited to assist John Tunstall. As the war drew nearer, tensions resurfaced between both of you.

Warnings: Slight mature themes nothing too detailed, Billy not knowing how to make up his mind

A/N: So this was supposed to be one long drabble but I got 4k words in and wasn't even half way through so I will now be turing this into a small series.

Your life hasn’t been easy. For years, you had to fend for yourself, even as a young girl. At such a tender age, loneliness was your constant companion until you met him—Billy McCarty, as you knew him. It all began in Kansas, just days after their arrival. His mother, a kind and gentle soul, his rowdy and energetic brother—these were the first faces you encountered. But Billy stood apart, calm and soft-spoken, especially towards you. Little was known about Billy’s father except for his ailing condition upon their arrival. When he first encountered you, you weren't dressed like the other girls in town. No, clad in a simple, dirty white cotton shirt and brown-stained trousers, mud tainting your braided hair, you were as fiery then as you are now.

Billy swiftly became your closest friend after your initial meeting, and the two of you were inseparable. You stood by him during the loss of his father, just as he stood by you when your parents abandoned you for greener pastures. The McCartys became your surrogate family, and you were willing to sacrifice everything for them. After his father's passing, the McCartys decided to seek new opportunities in Santa Fe, extending an invitation for you to join them.

As your new life unfolded in Santa Fe, you chose to assist Billy's mother at the inn, doing everything in your power to ease her workload. You shielded her from advances made by older men and helped restore order after brawls erupted in the bar. But over time, Kathleen and the others grew distant. She met a man who prompted her to move in with him, taking the boys along, while you remained stuck living at the inn, toiling tirelessly to make ends meet. As you and Billy matured, a shift occurred between you two—a growing chasm that led to that pivotal, fateful night.

Standing in your room, you tucked your shirt into your trousers before slipping on the boots. "Y/N, don't do this. You're not thinking straight," Billy urged, positioned near the door to impede your departure. Rolling your eyes, you tied your hair back with a ribbon, keeping the strands from obscuring your face.

"It doesn't matter, Billy. My decision is final. I can't spend my life here in the inn or aiding you in poker, especially after what happened with Carlos," you retorted, arms crossed, referencing the tragic incident that occurred last time you attempted to help him. "This can't be my life anymore. I have no family, and constantly fending off the advances of older men isn't the future I want."

"You have a family, Y/N. We're your family," Billy insisted, attempting to reason with you, taking a step closer.

"You're not my family, Billy. You ceased being my family when you left me here to work for my bed," you replied firmly, brushing past him to retrieve your gun belt from the nearby chair. If there was one thing you appreciated about Billy, it was his lessons on shooting, and you had become quite proficient.

Billy followed closely, his voice growing desperate as he tried to persuade you. Moving around his brother and acknowledging Kathleen with a nod, you stepped into the night air. "Fine, leave. But where will you go, Y/N? You don't know how to survive out there on your own. You'll end up dead in a ditch, and I can't bear to bury another friend," he implored, quickening his pace to block your movements.

Shaking your head, you reached your horse, a striking brown and white paint, and began fastening your belongings. "I'll figure it out, Billy. I grew up alongside you. I'm confident I can handle myself. But I'm tired of stagnation. What happened to the Billy who dreamt of running away with me, exploring the world? You're not the same friend anymore. I'm happy for you and your mother, but I need to discover who I am, and I hoped you'd support me in that," you murmured, pausing your actions, refusing to meet his gaze.

Waiting for a response that never came, you mounted your horse and rode off into the night, leaving Billy behind, watching you vanish from his life.

---

A few years later, you had earned quite the reputation, becoming one of the most renowned outlaws. To conceal your past, you adopted a new alias, known to many as Sadie Bennet, while others foolishly dubbed you "The Wolf," a title you found entirely absurd but resigned to endure as there was not much you can do besides complain. One of your crew members had rationalized the nickname, claiming it suited you because you tracked your targets before striking, often appearing as a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Seated not far from the bar, your hair cascading down your back, you leisurely sipped on whiskey. "Ms. Bennet, I assure you this deal will benefit you. Your marksmanship is unmatched, and we desperately need your expertise. Mr. Tunstall won't rest until we secure your assistance. While we may not match your previous compensation, he's vowed to collaborate with you to clear your name," the man before you spoke. He appeared relatively young, likely just a few years older than you.

Setting down your glass, you arched a brow, sucking air through your teeth. "Mr. Bowdre, I appreciate the offer, but as I've reiterated, a petty power struggle isn't in my best interest," you stated, adjusting the suspenders chafing against your skin beneath the blue plaid shirt. "If Mr. Tunstall is genuinely in dire need, he should make a personal appeal. His absence leads me to believe otherwise."

Charlie ran his hands over his face, growing increasingly desperate, an almost amusing sight. "He's away on business, Ms. Bennet. That's why he can't request your services in person," he explained, using a word that made it seem as though you were peddling yourself to men, a notion that irked you.

"Very well, I'll consider it. There's not much occupying my time currently. I'll head to Lincoln County in a few days. There, we can convene and discuss details further. I have a few loose ends to tie up here before departing," you announced as you stood. Noticing his instant relaxation upon your agreement made you ponder just how desperate they were for your aid. Retrieving your hat from the table, you brushed it against your brown trousers to rid it of any table dirt before placing it atop your head. Tipping your hat, you offered a faint smile before pivoting on your heel. "I'll see you in a few days, Charlie. Ensure Tunstall is present; it would be nice to meet him after your vivid descriptions," you remarked, striding out of the saloon, unaware that accepting his offer would soon thrust you back into the life of a close friend.

---

As promised, you arrived in Lincoln County a few days following your conversation with Charlie. While making your way toward town, you were intercepted by Charlie himself, evidently waiting for your arrival. "Ms. Bennet, welcome! We were starting to worry that you might have had a change of heart," he greeted you as you turned your horse to face him, a smile gracing your lips.

"Nonsense, Mr. Bowdre. I may be many things, but I always keep my word. I said I'd come, and I intend to follow through," you replied, meeting his contented smile as he guided you toward his house. Though the ride had been somewhat lengthy, the scenery was undeniably picturesque. Looking up, you caught sight of an eagle soaring above, circling twice before disappearing. Closing your eyes, you reminisced about the last time you had seen an eagle. It was just after your departure from Santa Fe, when illness had nearly claimed you. Lying on the ground, an eagle had soared overhead, and you'd tracked its every movement before succumbing to sleep. Days later, you'd awoken in an unfamiliar bed, unsure of your whereabouts.

"Mr. Tunstall will be delighted to meet you. We have a few others more directly involved in our operations. They'll also be present to greet you. Don't be put off; some of them relish being intimidating," Charlie's words interrupted your thoughts, eliciting a soft laugh from you. Shortly after, you arrived at a small ranch, where a woman stood waiting. Radiant and evidently excited to greet the man beside you, you assumed she was Charlie's wife, judging by the ring adorning her finger and her joyful expression upon seeing him.

Dismounting your horse and patting her gently, you followed Charlie toward the house. Taking a deep breath, you entered and glanced around. It was a lovely, well-organized home—neither too crowded nor too sparse. Charlie guided you into the living room, where you paused, noticing a group of men engaged in conversation. Some appeared older than you, while one around your age gazed out the window.

"Mr. Tunstall, gentlemen, I present Sadie Bennet," Charlie announced, prompting the men in the room to straighten, catching their attention. The young man by the window turned towards you, causing your heart to skip a beat. Standing before you was your old friend, Billy McCarty, though markedly different from your last encounter. Life had evidently molded him into a hardened man. His widened eyes and the way he uttered your name revealed his surprise and disbelief at seeing you again.

Tunstall scanned you before removing his hat and extending his hand in greeting. "Ms. Bennet, I've heard a fair amount about you from Charlie, including the challenge it posed in persuading you to assist us," he remarked, his smile softening as you firmly grasped his hand. Indeed, you hadn't been the easiest to recruit, having encountered Charlie multiple times before, his persistent attempts at recruiting you finally wearing you down.

"I apologize, Mr. Tunstall. I wasn't initially certain about joining this endeavor. However, Charlie's persistence eventually led me to agree. I hope my delayed acceptance didn't hinder your plans too significantly," you offered, ignoring Billy's intense gaze as he positioned himself beside you.

"That's quite alright. What matters is your presence now, and your skills will undoubtedly be invaluable. Now, allow me to introduce you to the others," Tunstall said, shifting his focus around the room. "This is George," he gestured to the man on his left, "and you're already acquainted with Charlie." Charlie offered a reassuring smile, leaving only one person to introduce.

"Finally, we have B—" You abruptly interrupted Tunstall, turning to extend your hand.

"William Bonney, it's a pleasure to meet you face to face. You're quite the celebrity; I was concerned about competition for the title of most notorious outlaw," you jested, noticing a subtle change in Billy's expression. Unsure whether it was anger or disappointment, you shrugged it off. Arching your eyebrows, you awaited his response, but as he made no move, you scoffed and turned back to Tunstall. "Well, as famous as he is, he certainly lacks manners," you grumbled, crossing your arms, eliciting a surprised cough from Charlie, who attempted to suppress a laugh.

Billy cleared his throat and shook his head. "I apologize, Ms. Bennet. That wasn't my intention. I was merely surprised to encounter a fan. It's delightful to make your acquaintance. Please forgive my lapse in manners," he said, his gaze fixed on yours.

"Oh, I'm not a fan, Mr. Bonney. Just pleased to meet the most wanted man in several counties," you shrugged, distancing yourself from him. "Mr. Tunstall, can we discuss my involvement privately? I won't commit until we've reached mutual terms," you proposed. Tunstall nodded, dismissing the others, and you shot a lingering glance in Billy's direction. Removing your gun belt and placing it on the table, you settled into a chair. "Tell me the details of my role."

Tunstall positioned himself opposite you, crossing a leg over his knee and folding his hands. "As you're aware, there's a feud between Mr. Murphy and me. He's a power-hungry man, exploiting the land and its people. He indebts them, then employs unsavory means to seize their property. I'm sure you're familiar with his tactics." You nodded, feeling a simmering rage within. "We aim to confront Murphy, reclaim the land, and provide these people with the rightful homes they deserve without enduring such hardships. I require your skills to assist in taking him down. You and Mr. Bonney will offer exactly what's needed to dismantle Murphy's corrupt hold."

As you reclined in your chair, Tunstall's words raced through your mind. This man was willing to fight and die for a cause—bringing a better life to Lincoln County—and he sought your aid above all. "Alright, let's assume I agree to assist you. What assurances can you provide? I'm not interested in money; I seek something more secure and dependable," you challenged, noticing Tunstall's surprise, though it didn't shock him, especially given your reputation.

"I can offer you an opportunity to clear your name. As far as I'm aware, you're wanted across at least four counties, three of which have bounties on your head. However, by assisting me and transitioning away from the outlaw life, I can advocate for you. I'll speak to judges, emphasizing your change of heart and commendable actions, working to eradicate those bounties against you," Tunstall proposed. The offer held undeniable appeal. Clearing your name from charges that weren't your doing in the first place seemed like a tempting prospect.

Nodding, you contemplated the offer more deeply. "Very well, I accept these terms. I'll collaborate with you to take down Murphy and assist in your objectives. But it's crucial that you uphold your end of the deal, Mr. Tunstall," you affirmed, running your fingers through your hair. "Now, could you tell me further about William Bonney?" Tunstall's eyes brightened as he eagerly briefed you on what he knew about your former friend.

---

That evening, you lay outside, your coat serving as a makeshift pillow while your gaze remained fixed on the stars. A gentle cool breeze kissed your cheek and nose, while the nearby fire crackled softly. Your eyes flickered open as the sound of footsteps approached, halting beside you as a figure settled down. "I didn't expect to see you roped into all of this," Billy spoke softly. "Honestly, I thought you were gone for good until I spotted your wanted posters everywhere. Who would've guessed you'd dig a deeper hole than mine, but I suppose stubbornness runs in your veins, so that's no surprise," he said, glancing down at you.

Sitting up, you drew your knees to your chest and released a sigh. "What do you want, Billy?" you asked, pressing your lips together tightly. "Don't expect anything from this. I'm here solely to clear my name, not to mend something that shattered a long time ago," you added, redirecting your gaze back to the starlit sky. Billy sighed and fiddled with his fingers, uncertain of his next words.

"I tried to find you. After my mother passed away, and I was falsely accused of a crime, I searched for you. I assumed you'd moved on to another town or two, but you were nowhere to be found. Then I kept hearing about this remarkable woman named Sadie Bennet—how impressive she was, especially for a female outlaw. It wasn't until I saw your wanted poster that I knew it was you. Part of me felt relieved, but another part wanted to keep searching," Billy confessed, joining you in gazing skyward.

"I wasn't far when Kathleen passed. I'm sorry for your loss; she was a remarkable woman," you began, "I knew you were alright, still alive, as people talked about you often. Imagine my surprise when they accused you of murder. I couldn't believe it because you were always about settling disputes, not escalating them to violence. No matter how much I might have disliked you, I couldn't believe those allegations," your words struck a chord, leaving him silent.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he uttered quietly. "I took advantage of your presence, assuming you'd always be there for me, even when I distanced myself. You were a constant in my life, and I took that for granted. Life turned into hell after you left, and realizing my mistake hit hard when I didn't have you to turn to anymore. Joe was furious with me for weeks; he blamed me, rightfully so."

"Don't blame yourself, Billy. I left because I needed more than the life we had. Our rift was just one part of why I left; it's not solely on you," you said, meeting his gaze filled with sorrow. Wanting to comfort him, you hesitated but then pulled him into a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Stop looking so forlorn, Billy. You're not alone; there are people who care."

Billy wrapped an arm around you, burying his face in your neck, breathing in your scent. "The reason I regretted it so much was because I was in love with you. You meant everything to me, and you showed me what it felt like to be truly wanted," he whispered softly, tightening his embrace. You remained silent, uncertain of how to respond to his confession. When you attempted to pull away, he shook his head, drawing you closer. "Please, just listen. I was so deeply in love with you that my mother was helping me gather the courage to confess my feelings. But then you vanished, leaving me with unspoken words and a heap of regrets."

"Billy," you murmured, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. "You carry so many burdens and regrets. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. You didn't deserve to feel alone, and I regret leaving you in that state. I had feelings for you too, but when you distanced yourself, I took it as a sign and fled like a coward," you confessed, feeling his hands cupping your cheeks, his thumb caressing your skin. Lost in each other's eyes, he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours.

His lips felt weathered against yours, yet the kiss conveyed volumes of unspoken emotions, making you disregard any roughness. Your fingers entwined in his hair, gently tugging on his brown locks, and a subdued moan escaped as he pulled you into his lap. Breaking the kiss, Billy placed a tender one along your jawline before meeting your eyes. "Let's head inside. It's getting late," he murmured, guiding you along. Pausing just outside the spare room, he kissed you again before ushering you inside, where the evening was spent memorizing each other's bodies and sharing quiet confessions.

---

The next morning, the sun peeked through the curtains, casting a soft golden hue across the room. Stretching your arms, a smile naturally spread across your lips. For once, you felt truly rested, and the usual ache in your back was noticeably absent. Sensing movement behind you, you felt an arm around your waist draw you closer. Memories of the previous night flooded your mind, and you suppressed a smile as you turned in bed to meet Billy's bright blue eyes. "Good morning," you whispered, gently cupping his cheek.

His lips curved into a sleepy smile as he tried to shake off the remnants of sleep. "Good morning," he mumbled back, leaning in to plant a tender kiss on your lips. Pulling away, he nestled his head on your shoulder, his arm holding you tighter. "Do you think we should come clean about knowing each other?"

Running your fingers through your hair, you pondered his question. "I'd say we might have to. There's hardly any believable excuse, especially after last night," you chuckled, placing kisses along his jawline. "But we should probably get up and start our day," you sighed, only to squeal as he playfully rolled on top of you, tickling your sides and eliciting high-pitched laughter.

After some playful moments and shared affection, Billy rolled off and got up, heading to the small bathroom. Lying on your stomach, you observed him dressing and attempting to tame his tousled hair. Catching his gaze, you noticed a flicker of something before he grabbed a black shirt from the wardrobe. Handing it to you, he sat on the bed, tracing his fingers over your exposed back. "I'll head downstairs while you get ready. I'll try to hold them off until you're ready to face the grilling," he said with a playful eye-roll, making you stifle laughter in the pillows.

Eventually, you sat up and planted a lingering kiss on his lips. "I'll see you downstairs, cowboy. Don't let them chew you up," you teased, rolling out of bed. As you started dressing, you ran a brush through your hair, noticing the red marks on your neck and collarbone. Groaning, you tilted your head back, silently blaming Billy. Once dressed, you made your way downstairs, overhearing hushed whispers. Some sounded teasing, while others seemed more disgruntled, likely discussing you and Billy. Walking into the room, you stood behind Billy, resting your hands on his shoulders. "Good morning, gentlemen. How was your night's rest?" you greeted them with a wide smile that faded as Billy distanced himself from your touch.

Charlie greeted you with a small welcoming smile while Tunstall settled into the chair at the table. Positioning yourself next to Billy, you observed him, puzzled by his sudden shift in emotions. "Sadie, or should I say Y/N, what exactly is your relationship with Billy?" he asked. Part of you hesitated, uncertain of what to say, as his expression demanded nothing but the truth. Before you could respond, Billy interjected.

"There's no relationship. Last night, we both had a bit to drink which led to events that should have never happened. I want to apologize for our actions. We have more important things going on, and we should have been more careful." His words hit you hard, and your face contorted into a mix of horror and shock. It was a mistake—this whole situation. Just moments ago, he appeared content waking up beside you, but now you felt reduced to a mere error. Clenching your hands into fists on your thighs, you bit the inside of your cheek to restrain any comments on the brink of escaping.

"Billy is right, Mr. Tunstall. We both got carried away, and I'll ensure it never happens again. I allowed myself to become too vulnerable around someone, and I shouldn't have." You managed to force the words out, your voice strained. "Now, if you boys excuse me, I need to tend to my horse and maybe explore the town to familiarize myself with the area," you grumbled, rising abruptly and causing the chair to scrape against the floor.

Charlie stood up swiftly. "I'll join you. Perhaps I can give you an overview of the town and how everything operates." You nodded at Charlie and left the kitchen, purposefully avoiding looking in Billy's direction. Charlie followed closely, slowing his pace as you reached the horses.

"What truly happened between you and Billy? Anyone who can read a room can tell that you're more than just a drunken mistake. So, what are you to him?" Charlie inquired as he mounted his horse.

Swinging yourself onto your horse, you shrugged. "I thought I meant something to him, but I should've known better than to believe his words. I apologize if things were awkward this morning, Charlie. That wasn't my intention at all." You offered him an apologetic smile as he joined you on horseback. A part of you wanted to cry and vent your frustration after Billy's sudden indifference. You had opened up to him and comforted him, only to be discarded once again. Last night felt too perfect to be true, but it hurt to realize that you had exposed yourself only to be hurt in the end.

Charlie shook his head and regarded you as the two of you began riding towards town. "You don't need to apologize, Y/N. Sometimes people change, and sometimes they change in a matter of minutes. All you can do is look ahead and move on. You're a wonderful and kind young lady. Billy just doesn't know what he's doing," Charlie consoled. Part of you felt weak for letting Charlie comfort you, but his words resonated and lingered in your mind. He was right. You couldn't let this consume you. All you could do was fulfill your duties and keep moving forward.

#billy the kid #billy the kid fanfic #tom blyth x reader #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid x you #Billy the kid #tom blyth #billy the kid fanfiction #tom blyth fanfiction #Spotify #william bonney #billy the kid 2022 #william h bonney x reader #tom blyth!billy the kid

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cosmic-lullabies · 6 months

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Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don't cry.

(GENSHIN IMPACT SPOILERS AHEAD)

The hydro archon's sacrifice lingered like a bittersweet hymn. It was a sacrifice not just for him but for the very people who, at first, were distant ripples in his tranquil existence.

It wasn't just about restoring his stolen powers; it was a selfless act that wove her love into the fabric of every water droplet that caressed the shores. She, who loved the people with an intensity that mirrored the cascade of Fontaine's falls, became the catalyst for a transformation within him.

Furina, with her boundless love for the denizens of Fontaine, taught Neuvillette the language of compassion. She painted the hues of humanity in the canvas of his once solitary heart, encouraging him to mingle with the people whose existence he had merely observed from the shadows.

The celestial beings, fooled by the masterful act, never fathomed the fragility that hid behind Furina's graceful facade. Her human form, the supposed hydro archon, was but a fragile vessel, concealing her true purpose with a mind that held the weight of centuries. She played her part perfectly, an act that spanned centuries, fooling even the celestial beings.

Her final dance, a sacrifice for the people of Fontaine she had come to love. In her ephemeral form, she embraced him in the dance of shared rule, a dance that held the promise of restored powers and averted prophecies.

She spoke words that cut deeper than any blade ever could: "Farewell, Neuvillette... I hope you enjoyed the part you played these 500 years." The words hung in the air, a poignant melody that Neuvillette carried with him into the abyss of grief.

The people of Fontaine, unaware of the truth that hid behind Furina's delicate facade, owed their safety and prosperity to her love. Her sacrifice was a symphony of selflessness, a crescendo of deception orchestrated for the sake of those she cherished.

Over the course of time, the daily rituals that they both shared once shared became hauntingly lonely. No longer did he wake to the hum of Furina's presence, nor did the aroma of her favorite pastries linger in the air—a scent now lost in the sea breeze. Her seat at the opera house stood as a solemn reminder of the unoccupied space, a void in Neuvillette's existence that even the ebb and flow of Fontaine's waters couldn't fill.

Her absence was a palpable ache, a wound that refused to heal. The solitude became an unwelcome friend, wrapping around him like an icy current that no amount of hydro power could thaw.

And what of Furina, now a mortal among mortals? The hydro vision, a precious gift from Neuvillette, glowed in her hands—a poignant reminder of a dragon's love, a tether to the supernatural world she once inhabited.

Yet, despite the glow of the hydro vision, she grapples with the unfamiliarity of a life without the burden of divinity, exploring the world where her once-unchallenged authority holds no sway. The mundane chores of everyday life were a stark contrast to the shared sovereignty she had known with Neuvillette.

The hydro dragon, left alone amidst the ever-flowing currents, yearned for the return of his beloved who had become the heartbeat of his whole being. The abyss of loneliness yawned before him, an endless expanse where every ripple echoed the ghostly whispers of a love that had abandoned him to the vast emptiness of solitude.

Oh, Neuvillette, may the currents of fate guide you back to the solace of companionship, and may the echoes of your love find their way back to your weary heart. May the waters of Fontaine carry your longing, your hopes, and your unwavering love. For even in the depths of sorrow, love has a way of shaping our destinies, of bringing light to the darkest of nights.

#poems #focallette #genshin 4.2 #furina #focalors #neuvillette #neuvifuri #furillette #Spotify

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yandere-3-sagau · 7 months

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Genshin Cult AU but reader really doesn’t wanna be creator

warning(s): mental-health issues, mentions of suicide, mentions of death and killing, angst

Isekaied reader who always dreamed of going to teyvat but when they actually go, they realize they took for granted their life before. They’re homesick and want nothing more to return to their family.

They hide and no one recognizes the creator’s face. Reader makes friends with people and becomes close. However, they’re devout followers of the creator. Reader goes to “mass” with them and when they’re there they can hear their prayers. They decide to help them out in their own way.

Someones missing, they goes out to find the missing person and since none of the creatures hurt them, it’s relatively easy.

Someone’s sick, reader buys them medicine or helps heal them.

Reader accidentally helps too many people and they begin to suspect them. Their very close friend apologizes before cutting reader and their golden blood is shown to all. Reader feels heartbroken at their close friend being distant out of respect. They just wanted to help people, they didn’t want to be put on a pedestal. They wish no one ever knew. And all of a sudden everyone forgot about reader being the creator.

That’s when reader finds out they can erase memories/control minds. They decide to leave since nothing is the same.

They become depressed and starts drinking. Reader heads over to mondstadt and drowns themself in alcohol and gets heavily drunk in front of diluc. He figures out that they’re the creator after ranting to him in their druken state. However, they erase his memories.

For years, reader lives while erasing the memories of those who discover them. During this time, they’ve tried to off themself several times only to fail. Finally, after the boredom and loneliness sinks in, they finally decide to give being creator a shot. They think it can’t be that bad and reveals themself. They were wrong.

Now reader has a suffocating pressure on them at all times. So, instead of erasing their memories (since they’ve been doing that for years), reader tries to do something different. They try to be evil.

Reader kills people off/orders their execution at the slightest of things. They hope that their evilness will spark the people’s will to kill them. However, no one bats an eye. All of the acolytes believe that they’re right no matter how cruel reader is. Even the families of the people they’ve killed think that there must have been something wrong with their loved one for the creator to sentence them to death.

Because they are so blind with devotion, reader tries to manipulate them into hating them. Poisoning the acolytes mind against themself. That still doesn’t work. Even if reader blatantly tells them that they don’t give a fuck about any of them, the acolytes just become more determined to fix themselves so that reader approves of them.

Next, reader tries to use mind control to force the acolytes into killing them. But no amount of damage they do can kill them. They are immortal. When it fails, reader erases their memories.

Finally, reader tells them that they’ve seen of a future where a powerful god/creator from a different universe is planning on invading. They urge everybody to create the most powerful weapon that could kill a creator/god. When they finally create one, reader uses it on themself.

Sad ending: The weapon doesn’t work on them because the acolytes made a safe guard to ensure no harm comes to the creator. Reader is so despaired that they kill everyone and is doomed to live an eternity in an empty universe.

Alternate Ending: Reader manipulates the acolytes to remove the safe guard and then uses it on themself, finally succeeding in killing themself after years of being trapped. But they don’t return to their home-world and remain dead. The entirety of Teyvat suffers from the knowledge that their beloved creator offed themselves to escape the world they created.

#can you see a pattern in my writing #i dunno why all of the readers i write never wanna be creator #can u tell my mental state from my writing #yandere genshin #genshin impact #yandere sagau #yanderexreader #archons #yandere #creator #genshin cult au #sagau #acolytes #yandere x reader

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