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tiny-1karus · 8 months

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Pairing: yandere!batfam (Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian) x fem!reader

(All the boys are 20+, Damian is around the same age as the reader and they're both in university.)

A tiny little sequel to the Cinderella-esque story, but from the boys perspective. There are multiple parts to this but you can check out the first part here:

Part 1

This is an almost 3k fic, so enjoy!

...

It was the following evening after the inciting but unfortunate incident that had landed you on the medical bay of the Wayne manor. You had been unconscious for most of the night until the late afternoon as your body recovered from the traumatic head injury you had received from your stepmom, only gaining consciousness for barely an hour before immediately falling back asleep. The last night's events, along with your clearly overworked and underfed body, had clearly taken it's toll on you. With the state of your body and your consistent lack of consciousness, they had to attach an IV tube to your arm.

The Wayne brothers, along with their father, had taken turns diligently monitoring you throughout this time after returning in the early dawn from their... Mission.

They could all finally relax as the primary and greatest threat to your well-being was finally taken care of.

They hope they burned in hell.

Your condition, thankfully, wasn't dire, even if it wasn't ideal. All you needed was complete and relative rest until the next 3-4 days, which was slightly overestimated, but none of them were taking any chances on your health. Not when you were still in such a fragile state.

Currently, Dick and Damian were on watch for you. Dick was sitting on a chair to your left while Damian stood next to him like a silent sentry, both of them watching the steady rise and fall of your chest as if to reassure themselves that you were still there with them. Even in sleep, you still had this shadow that seemed to haunt you as your face never seemed to be fully at peace.

Dick was holding on to your hand with a guilty expression, his blue eyes darting to the large square gauze taped to your left cheek. It hid the massive bruise that nearly covered the whole left side of your face. He still couldn't express into words the magnitude of rage that had consumed him when he saw the dark mark on your precious face.

Dick never thought himself a particularly violent person. He tended to use diplomacy as a primary approach when violence is clearly not warranted. As a vigilante, he uses violence as a means to protect, but last night he had used all his strength to harm.

He still couldn't fathom why it had felt so good in that one instance, so he tried not to think about it anymore.

He gently ran his thumb against the back of your hand as his eyes darted to the bandage on your face. He bit his lip as his own face scrunched up into an expression of guilt once again.

Clearly, he was failing at that.

Damian let out an annoyed sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Grayson, I can hear you thinking from here." He stared down at his brother with an unimpressed look, "and clearly, you're doing a poor job at it."

Dick bent his head until his forehead touched the back of your hand. He really wanted to kiss it but his guilty conscience made him think he was unworthy of the action at the moment.

"I dunno Dames, I just feel so... Guilty."

Damian let out a quiet exhale as he considered the miserable, guilt-ridden state of his oldest brother.

A tiny part of him, the part that hurt and raged at all the pain you had endured by your so-called family, felt remorseful that you had gotten injured that night. This piece of him ached at the thought of all the other nights that he wasn't there to protect you from it all, even if he had been unaware of your existence for most of it.

But he would never let anyone know that.

The youngest Wayne laid his hand on Dick's shoulder. He waited until his older brother finally looked up from his hunched over position on your hospital bed. Damian inclined his head towards the door before walking towards it, silently waiting for his brother to follow.

Dick seemed hesitant to leave your side but the impatient gesture that Damian made at the door finally made him follow his youngest brother outside. He closed the door with a faint click, and they both walked towards the observation window on the other side of the medical bay. They settled at the spot that was directly in front of your bed; Dick with his arms hanging loosely at his sides and Damian with his arms crossed over his chest.

You might have been unconscious but they didn't want to take any chances of you hearing this conversation.

Damian surprised his brother by speaking first. "I hope you know that it was done out of necessity. She wouldn't have come to us, where it's infinitely more safe and she has a vast access to superior resources, if this didn't happen." The conviction in his voice brokered no room for doubt or argument. He said this as if it was merely fact and to a degree, it was, but Dick couldn't help the sliver of doubt that persistently niggled at the back of his mind.

Damian hadn't turned to look at his brother as he spoke, his green eyes locked intensely on your sleeping form on the hospital bed. If he had any doubts, which Dick seriously doubted, he gave none of it away. Instead, his jaw seemed to clench a bit before letting out a silent, imperceptible sigh. "Nothing would have changed for her if we hadn't intervened." He pointed out with an unreadable look.

Dick sighed as he looked at you through the glass with a sad expression. He had hoped, however vaguely, that your family wouldn't have stooped that low. That they wouldn't have fallen for the bait.

The only tragedy is that they hadn't suffered more.

When Dick—uncharacteristically—still failed to respond, Damian let out a frustrated noise. Since when did he become the voice of reason for this family? The youngest Wayne pivoted and pinned his older brother with a hard, unyielding look.

"Grayson, I will only say this once. There is no need to feel guilty. It was the optimal way to get her out of that disgusting cesspool and we succeeded." There was a fierce conviction to the youngest Wayne as he said this and even Dick couldn't help but feel a little swayed.

Dick ran both of his hands through his hair aggressively and sighed harshly. "I just wish that she didn't get hurt in the process." We could have prevented it, was what went unsaid but clearly understood between the two brothers.

At this, even Damian didn't have a reply or rebuttal ready. Because it was the same thing that plagued him about this situation. But he consoled reassured himself that you had survived and were finally in their care, where you were safe (where you belonged).

It had been years since Damian has thought this way, not since he started living with his father and adopted siblings and developed a moral code and conscience of his own, but this is one of those rare instances where the ends undeniably justified the means.

Damian couldn't—wouldn't regret his choice to plant your money box on top of your bed while leaving your door ajar for the filthy vultures to pounce like the mindless, greedy beasts they were. It was their fault for acting on their avarice and they paid for it with their lives.

"I just wish she didn't get hurt."

Damian narrowed his eyes in thought. Truthfully, you weren't supposed to get hurt.

...▼▼▼...

The hours that had led up to the incident had been a hectic whirlwind for everyone as they were neck-deep in the process of busting a criminal network drug-ring operation. The entire team had been investigating this underground operation for weeks and were on the cusp of sweeping this operation into the light.

And this was in the middle of them monitoring the situation in your house. Robin had already planted your moneybox in the open a few days ago and it hadn't even taken 30 minutes for the pests to take the bait. Through the multiple cameras they had set up within your house, it almost amazed the team how none of your step-family seemed to think twice before going on a shopping spree with your hard earned money, extravagantly parading their ill-gotten luxury (Damian scoffed, they called that luxury?) in your house right in front of you. All this, as you still worked hard and let these putrid leeches work you into the ground like a slave. It was only a matter of time before you realized where your money had unfortunately gone. They all waited with baited breaths for the explosive fall out that would ensue and had prepared measures to protect you from it.

But the sudden arrival of a rival gang on one of the warehouses that also acted as a quasi-headquarters for one of the heads of this operation threw a wrench in their plans, and suddenly all hands were needed on deck.

Batman called all of them in and the team entered the warehouse into a room that had turned into a battle ground as men and women fought in a free-for-all. Without hesitation, they all leapt into the fray.

And although the vigilantes had been busy bashing skulls, they still kept an ear out for the little ping! That would alert them of your stepmother's arrival at your house. Since that alert never preceded anything good for you.

Ping!

Red Hood nearly missed it over the sound of his and his enemy's exchange of gunfire but when he finally noticed the alert, he hurried to the nearest stack of crates for cover before pulling up the feed. You were crumpled on the floor with your stepmother nowhere in sight.

Shit, that can't be good.

"RED!" He bellowed.

From across the large warehouse, Red Robin answered. "Already on it!"

Everyone on the comms heard a curse as Red Robin sounded out the custom alert sound they had set for emergencies that pertained to you.

"Guys, we need to wrap this up now. She's running around downtown in the rain alone. She seems erratic and terrified." None of them had to be geniuses (which they were) to guess that something bad had happened in the mere moments they had focused their attention elsewhere.

Batman's gruff and gravelly voice came through the comms in a clear command, "Red Hood, Nightwing, go out and secure her location. We'll finish this."

Robin and Red Robin tightened their holds on their weapons before going back into the fight with renewed and vicious vigor. They had to finish this early so that they can see you. They barely had time to look at your feeds once the fight broke out but they couldn't ignore the foreboding feeling they got when they received your alert.

"We'll be at the house by then, make sure she's safe."

...

Nightwing could barely hide his worry as he frantically changed into the spare civilian clothes he kept in a bag right there in his own car before booking it, with Red Hood hot in his trail in his motorcycle. He already put in your coordinates in the screen on his dashboard, it began tracking the tracking device they had planted on your phone for such emergencies.

He watched as your icon ran through streets without rhyme or reason, and in the rain no less. He bit his lip, you must be terrified.

Red Hood had already taken off his helmet and had shoved it into the underseat storage of his motorcycle before following Nightwing. It was all he needed to do to transition to his 'civilian' attire. He didn't care about the rain that pelted him and soaked his clothes as he drove with the single-minded intent of finding you.

He pulled up a feed on the little monitor on the instrument display of his bike, it showed you from the image quality of street cameras running frantically in the rain. Fuck, what if you got sick?

Nightwing's—now Dick Grayson—voice called to him from the comms they both still wore, "Jay! She's up heading towards the 6th. Intercept her from the other side. I'll wait for you both there."

Jason Todd revved up his bike and broke away from the main street to cut through alleyways to beat you there. He haphazardly parked his bike next to a pile of trashbags and ran out of the dark alley and into the sidewalk. He wasn't all that worried about his bike, the Red Hood symbol emblazoned on it's side should deter most people from even touching it. But if it did get stolen, then he could just as easily replace or track it.

None of that mattered more than finding you, though.

Once he ran up to 6th street, he immediately zeroed in on you. You were standing a few blocks away from him, your clothes looked rumpled and you were positively drenched from the rain. There was a glazed look in your eyes even from this distance and he called your name as he slowly approached.

The way you had reacted to him, sobbing and grasping at him as if he was your lifeline, broke him. And he held you even closer as he let your tears mix with the rain that soaked his shirt.

Even though, he knew he was part of the reason for that.

...

Once you were finally situated at the house with all the Wayne men surrounding you (protecting you), you were quiet and withdrawn. A stark contrast from the bright and warm air that you seemed to bring with you everywhere you go. It had taken some coaxing, but you finally opened up to them about your problems at home for the first time since knowing them. And they all were aware how you tried to sugarcoat it and minimize the worst of your pain and that hurt. (Didn't you trust them?)

And once your injury was brought to light, they were furious.

Once you were being taken care of by Alfred, they pulled up the feed of the time they had missed while they were dealing with the drug-ring bust. They all watched, with surmounting horror, the way your stepmom had ruthlessly beaten you into the ground and had shouted such horrible words at you.

To say that they were infuriated was an understatement. The magnitude of their shared rage could never be encompassed by any measure in the known world.

They were down-right murderous.

How could you have gotten hurt on their watch?

... ∆ ∆ ∆ ...

"Staying there would've only hurt her more." Tim's quiet voice interjected, suddenly appearing on Dick's other side. Damian gave him a passing, acknowledging glance before his green eyes returned to your prone form on the other side of the glass.

Tim had his hands in the pockets of his favorite hoodie as he watched you with a solemn expression. "I don't regret what we did." He stated firmly. "When I was in her shoes, I remember all the pain I went through and always wished that someone would save me."

Dick turned to his brother and slung his arm over his shoulder before bringing him into a side hug. Tim leaned into his brother a little as he joined them in watching over you. Something in him settled as he watched the steady rise and fall of your chest, it was comforting to know that you were here, even if the circumstances that had led to your arrival had been unfortunate. He couldn't help but think about the similarities the both of you shared.

But unlike you, Tim had been lucky enough to have the opportunity to save himself, when he chose to become part of this family of vigilantes and chose to become one himself. He didn't want you to feel alone like he did in his previous life. And now you would never have to feel that way again.

Tim's voice was resolute as he spoke to his oldest brother, "and we saved her, Dick. I can't ever regret that."

Dick reached up to ruffle the already messy hair of his brother. "I know, Timmy." He said softly.

Still, the guilt lingered (as it will for a longer time still, like a jagged pebble inside the shoes of his psyche) as Dick watched your prone form sleeping peacefully on the hospital bed. He had a part to play in your injured state and he could never truly scrub himself of the guilt that came with that.

But you were here now, and you were safe. That was all that mattered to them.

And Dick would rather regret the things he's done rather than leaving you there to suffer by yourself.

...

Does this count as part 3?? Idk, y'all decideee. I just wanted to write a small insight on the boys and a BTS on what happened during that night. Like, isn't it just so juicy how yandere tendencies can clash with a hero's moral code and how it affects and manifests for each member?? Anyways, sorry that Bruce weren't in this part that much ;v;

Lemme know if y'all want more from this, and let me hear your thoughts! Constructive criticism is always welcome with me (whether it's you pointing out a grammatical error or a faulty tense) :>>

I'll start on the first part once I've posted this, I've barely edited this lmaooo. Thank you and enjoy!

#yandere fic #yandere x reader #yandere fanfiction #yandere imagines #yandere batfam #yandere batman #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere damian wayne #yandere x you #yandere imagine #fanfic

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ellieslaces · 5 months

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DANCING WITH OUR HANDS TIED.

part I ; part II ; part III ; part IV

featuring: prince!leon x princess!reader (royalty au)

synopsis: the Crown Prince, Leon, had never desired to marry, but obviously the decision was never up to him. his mind is slowly, and ultimately changed when he meets you, his betrothed

content warnings: harsh language; mentioned violence; strangers to lovers; mutual pining; little angst; misogynistic themes; eventual smut (more detail in later chapters)

notes: royalty au; Leon is an Italian Prince; user is British/English; some old English dialect; misogynistic themes bc this is based on old views of royal women’s only purpose to bare children; Leon’s family’s palace is based on Palazzo Ducale in Venice

word count: 2.83k

chloe talks: yeah ok, I caved. a royalty au has been on my mind for a little bit and while listening to Dancing With Our Hands Tied by Taylor Swift on the way to my endocrinologist appointment today, I had to write this. this is partially inspired by a bot on c.ai by wesker420 and another royalty au fic on here by @hispg so I don’t take full credit for the idea. but anyways, enjoy

playlist

Leon had never desired to marry, he never believed a happy marriage was in the cards for him. Especially when his mother and father were the only example set for him all his life. He was content with a life of politics — council and war meetings, endless nights spent in local taverns, his bed warmed by women who didn’t mean anything to him. Until he met you.

You were a princess from the North, a born and bred English noblewoman. And you were terribly single and of marrying age. Your country and Leon’s country were in dire need of allies, so naturally you were introduced to each other as betroths.

Of course, this was far from an easy process for either one of you. Leon did not wish to marry at all, and you wished to marry for love, not convenience. This was a damning future for the both of you.

And it only became increasingly worse as your marriage date was pushed closer — a fortnight away now. Your family traveled to Leon’s castle, staying there for the next two weeks. Your family was set to leave the night of the wedding, leaving you completely alone with a man you were forced to spend the rest of your life with and his family.

This arrangement was far from ideal for you. You knew next to nothing of the Crown Prince. And he knew nothing of you either. It was an unfortunate affair — two young nobles who could have anyone or anything now tied down to each other by pressing expectations. It was truly a tragedy.

It became increasingly apparent to Leon that you were miserable in this arrangement the day you arrived a fortnight before the wedding ceremony. He and his family greeted your family in the throne room — much more lavish and beautiful than your own at home — and he could so clearly see how dismayed you were.

Hell, he couldn’t blame you. A young woman, beautiful and intelligent, brought up with the best opportunities available to her was now being sold off as a piece of property. All for peace among nations. Leon supposed he could complain, but he was a man. He wasn’t tied down by the duties of being a wife as you would be. He felt bad for you — even if some small part of him resented you for this sickening arrangement.

Soon enough, you were carted off to your chambers where you would reside until the night of the wedding ceremony. Your mother tried her best to console you, saying it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. It was futile though, you were set to be miserable. To be resentful of how your parents could sell you off to the highest bidder for a bit of political gain.

Though, the palace grounds were beautiful. High ceilings covered in extravagant artwork, glass windows, the grand canal right outside the Eastern side of the palace. There was much to explore in the two weeks you’d spend there — or the rest of your life.

You spent the first week of your stay exploring the castle. Looking at the array of artwork, the different rooms. You did this mostly alone, your mother would occasionally join when she was not required to sit through perilously long political meetings. When she was not able to join you, your handmaiden — and best companion — Maria, would walk with you.

Always a few paces behind to keep up appropriate appearances. Though, Maira more than often would end up walking beside you.

In fact, it was three days after your initial arrival that Leon saw you for the first time, alone. You had decided to take advantage of the pleasant Italian spring day and explore the West gardens. Maria was walking beside you grinning, hands folded in front of her as she informed you of the latest gossip among the grand palace’s servants.

That was also the first time Leon had ever heard you laugh. You had a gloved hand covering your mouth, the sudden sound of your lilting laughter causing him to immediately stand as you rounded a corner of the hedges.

Leon has simply come outside to study a leather bound book of political speeches his father had written, sitting on the bench to also enjoy the weather. At the sudden sight of the prince, Maria stopped in her tracks, eyes wide and bent at the waist in a bow.

Maria’s sudden prostrate position caused you to pause as well, dropping your hand and looking up at the prince — your betrothed.

You as well, curtsied, face ground-ward as your smile fell in an instant. “Your highness.”

Leon almost smiled then, at the sight of your sudden respect and change of attitude. He bowed his own head as you straightened, offering the same sign of respect. “Princess. I hope you are enjoying the grounds.”

“Yes, your highness, I am. Thank you.” You nodded, your eyes hesitant to look in his direction. It didn’t go amiss to Leon that your cheeks had been painted in a pink tint as well.

“Good,” he nodded, at a loss for what else to say. His eyes darted to Maria, your handmaiden who had righted herself and taken a few steps back. He nodded to her as well, offering a kind smile.

This was the first time you’d felt any form of warmth for the prince. His subtle kindness to your handmaiden, whom any other noble would dutifully ignore. It brought a small smile to your lips, eyes finally meeting his as he looked at you.

“What are you reading?” You questioned, eyes flicking to the leather bound book in Leon’s hands. An awkward attempt to be polite.

“Just some political notes my father wrote up for me to review. He has been pushing me to be more involved as of late, my future quickly approaching as he likes to say.” Leon’s head tilted to the side, motioning to the book.

To his surprise, your interest had seemed to pique. “Anything interesting?” You asked, voice soft yet filled with an element of excitement. A princess interested in politics was not something the prince had ever come across.

“Not particularly, just some civilian requests and meeting reviews.” He shrugged, seeming bored. However, you seemed anything but.

“I see.” You stepped forward a bit, seeming to be a bit hesitant but foraging on nonetheless. “I do hope I am not being forward, but, I wonder if you would mind informing me of anything you hear in the meetings.”

Leon frowned at this. “You are not invited to meetings?” He didn’t realize you may not have a place in the political side of royalty.

You shook your head, a small look of annoyance gracing over your gentle features. “No, my father says it isn’t a princess’ place. He believes I am far too delicate for such heavy matters.”

Leon could tell how much it annoyed you, despite the fact that you never explicitly said it did. He frowned, nodding to himself.

He looked back up at you — his lips pulled into a devastating smirk that nearly took your breath away. “Well, princess, you have my word. I will inform you of anything I hear from future meetings.”

You hadn’t expected him to actually agree. Most men would have said you were being silly and had no need to hear such trivial matters. It made that prior spark of warmth blossom into a small flame in your chest.

He was kind. Not just handsome — horribly so, which you and Maria agreed upon — but he had a good heart. No matter his seemingly rough exterior, you could see the prince meant well.

“Well, thank you, your highness. I deeply appreciate it.” You smiled, that pink tint on your cheeks ever present as the prince stepped forward to you.

“Of course, princess. If there is anything I can do to make your stay any more pleasant, please do let me know. We are going to be married, are we not?” He offered with a half smirk, bowing his head again.

“Thank you, your highness.” Your own lips pulled into a small smile as Leon gently gripped your gloved hand, pressing his lips to the back of it with a whisper of a kiss. He smiled again, dropping your hand and walking away, through the hedges of the gardens.

He was kind, you’d somewhat expected that, but you hadn’t expected him to be so romantic. At least, that’s how you would put it. You’d met your fair share of suitors, each appealing in their own way. But none had ever offered you the kindness or grace Leon had. It was dizzying.

And those dizzying thoughts plagued you always. The kindness in his eyes, his devastating smirk, his gentle voice — it all stayed in your mind. Never leaving you a moment to breathe. Maybe, he wasn’t so bad. It was entirely possible that you wouldn’t be miserable here. However, you decided to make that decision upon whether or not Leon kept his promise.

And to your surprise, he had. Two days later, you awoke in the late morning to a small stack of parchment on your nightstand. The top sheet displaying your name in what could only be Leon’s swirling handwriting.

You’d laid in bed for two hours that morning to read through the notes of every meeting for the past week that you’d been there, missing breakfast. It wasn’t in Leon’s hand script, but in a neater script. The official royal note taker, you assumed. But it was all so interesting.

Never had you been informed of any such political activity before, unless it was pressing or dangerous. It was a refreshing feeling to be informed. To know things like anyone else.

You’d read over the papers, soaking in each word until your eyes hurt. Until you committed each event listed and discussed to memory. In sudden realization of how kind the act truly was, you racked your brain for a way to thank Leon. It was possible he could be punished for this, you didn’t know exactly how confidential this information was.

It wasn’t until dinner the following night after you’d received the papers that you saw the prince again. You had been seated beside him for the first time — probably due to visiting political figures. It was quiet between the two of you, a bit awkward, because what were you supposed to say? The men were all conversing about the situation in the West, Leon looking bored and not caring much to weigh in. So you took your chance.

“I wanted to thank you for the notes.” You spoke up, quiet as only Leon could hear you as you pushed the food on your plate around.

The prince paused, his glass raised to his lips as he sipped the maroon wine. “I trust you enjoyed them?”

“Very much. Thank you, it means a lot to me you did that.” You looked at Leon as he set his wine glass down, offering him a smile to display how much you truly did appreciate the kindness.

“Of course, princess. I am just glad to offer you some solace here. Whether it be politics or roses.” He joked, blue eyes glimmering in the bright candlelit dining hall.

You set down your fork, sipping from your own glass before looking at him again. “I do hope I did not get you into any trouble.”

“No. And even if you did, it would be worth it. So long as you are happy here.” Again, the prince’s kindness was overwhelming. You smiled, cheeks tinged pink again.

“You flush a lot. Is this normal for you, or is it just me?” The prince questioned with a teasing lilt.

A small laugh fell from your lips, shaking your head. “I am afraid it is just you.” You nodded to him, head tilted to the side.

The prince offered you another smile, sipping from his glass before his father began to speak to him, in a way forcing him to engage in conversation. For the first time in your life, you could listen to a discussion of political issues and know what was happening. And it was all thanks to a kind prince.

You sat through the dinner, a small smile taking permanent residence on your pink lips. Eyes sparkling with quiet knowledge.

It was then Leon realized he liked your smile. And it was then you realized you could fall in love with Leon.

2023 ©️ellieslaces please do not repost, rewrite, translate, or submit my work to AI or any other platform. please support your creators by reblogging, liking, and following!

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#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #resident evil 4 #resident evil #royalty au #leon #kennedy #prince leon Kennedy #resident evil 4 remake #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy re4 #Taylor Swift #dancing with our hands tied

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 year

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Koala Bear

a/n we are shy from 2k bubbles and since I am dying in bed I thought hey... let's return to our silver fox. Don't be tricked this is purely for self indulgence.

summary: pre-outbreak Joel trying to figure out why his girlfriend has been acting weird, yet the sight he's greeted with is far from what he had imagined, leading to hospital trips, panicked phone calls and a man so in love he's ready to do anything for the woman he loves.

warnings: a new not so much established relationship, period pain/blood, puking, hospitals, fainting, iv's, mention of past sexual interactions.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Joel was desperate to get back home. The traffic in front of him only increased his frustration. This morning felt odd, and the fact that he had to leave you without having a chance to have a proper conversation with you left him uneasy. Joel doubted that he had done anything wrong. At least, he hoped he hadn't. You didn't go to bed upset. You two had cuddled all night. He sure hadn't forgotten any important dates. He had them all marked in the calendar down by the fridge, and the closest one was Tommy's birthday, so it was not something to have you frowning about.

Joel did try to nudge Sarah about it before dropping her off at school, but she just shrugged her shoulders. Murmuring something about how she thought the two of you had just had a fight or something. "But you haven't?", she asked, looking over at her dad. Ever since Joel introduced you to her, she had fallen in love just as hard. You had only moved in the past month. Taking your relationship slow, not wanting to overwhelm Sarah. Yet to some extent, she was even more excited than Joel and you, or even both of you put together. "No, love, we didn't fight", he's quick to reassure her. Making the girl nodded her head.

Joel knew that now that Sarah had grown fond of you and let you into her life, she was scared to lose you. Any bickering, even the lighthearted one, had her squirming. The first time it happened, she nearly had a panic attack. Eyes filling up with tears, she muttered, "Now you will leave", when you found her sitting on the stairs. "Why would I, love bug?", "Well, dad said that stupid stuff about how you can't cook for life", she sniffed, wiping her runny nose with the back of her sleeve. You draped your hand over her shoulders, bringing her closer. "We were only messing around. I'm not leaving you or your dad, even if he's one annoying shit sometimes", you said, wiping her tears away. Making her giggle slightly, as she leaned into you, pressing her body closer to yours.

Joel parked the car in the driveway. Quickly jumping out before opening the back door to take the flowers he had bought for you. He saw them on his way back to his car at work. They reminded him of you. His spring in the midst of the coldest winter. His dainty tulip. In a way, Joel had forgotten what it was like to date. It had been fourteen years, and he wasn't a spring chicken anymore. If he was being honest, he had given up on finding anyone, and the empty side of the bed had long stopped feeling lonely. Well, that was until he met you.

It was a miserable day in Texas. It seemed like the sky had opened. Heavy rain hadn't stopped since early morning. No sign of easing any time soon. Joel was waiting for Tommy. Annoyed that he had to go out in the weather like this. Let alone sit in the car waiting because the younger Miller was late.

Joel was mindlessly listening to the tunes playing on the radio, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, when he saw a figure running across the street. It was hard to make it out fully, but he could tell that it was most definitely a female. The frame seemed way too petite for it to be male. No umbrella. A handful of what seemed like papers above your head had to be soaked through by now. Then there was a light shriek, and Joel saw you slipping onto the pavement with a thud. He sat still until his brain had caught up to what his eyes had just seen, and Joel was jumping out of the car in no time.

Your hand was gripping your ankle as he approached you. Hands in front to not frighten you as you looked up at him. The pain was written all over your face. "That was quite a tumble you took there", Joel said while kneeling next to you. "Oh, tell me you didn't see it…", you whined before trying to sit more comfortably but failing miserably. "Would it make you feel better?", he asked, reaching for your ankle after meeting your eyes and getting an approving nod from you. You let out a sharp cry when Joel's tender fingers touched your skin. The throbbing pain only got stronger. He frowned slightly.

"Might be broken this one. We'll have to get you to the hospital", Joel gently released your already swollen ankle before looking around and trying to catch a glimpse of Tommy by any chance. "We?", you asked, even if it was a silly question. "Well, do you have someone else who could take you? The parking lot seems pretty empty to me", he teased back, moving to support your back as he got into a more comfortable position to pick you up.

"I would so slap you if I didn't need your help, you peacock", you grumbled, but Joel only laughed. Laughed and got struck by the realization that he was indeed laughing with another woman. "Right, well, you can sit here and look pretty than", "Don't you dare to walk away", your fingers gripped his shirt as you pulled yourself closer to his chest. Even through the layers of your wet clothes, you could feel his warmth seeping into your skin, making you shiver. Only now realizing just how cool you truly were. "Okay, koala bear", he muttered, tightening his arms around your body as he carried you to his truck.

The house was awfully quiet. Joel looked around the entrance room. Your shoes and coat were untouched. He had kicked one of your heels by accident this morning while he was rushing to get Sarah to school on time. It was laid out just as he had left it. Meaning you had stayed at home. The older Miller scowled. Fridays weren't your days off. And your boss wasn't the one to hand out free days, so something was wrong. Had to be wrong.

Joel left the flowers on the kitchen counter and slipped into the living room. Scanning the room. A blanket lay messily shrugged onto the floor. A shred of evidence that you had indeed been here at some point. "Y/N", he calls out your name softly, not too loudly, just in case you were asleep upstairs. No response. He crept around the first floor, ready to go upstairs until an open door to the downstairs bathroom caught his attention. You always keep that door closed. It annoyed you because if it got left open, the defuser scent slipped into the house. Joel walked closer, and his heart jumped into his throat at the sight.

Your head was resting on the toilet seat. Skin pale as paper. Your breathing seemed labored. Yanking the door fully open, Joel practically fell into the tight space. "Darling", his fingers instantly pressed onto your forehead. It was clammy but not warm enough for a fever. "I'm fine…", you crocked out, trying to open your eyes but failing miserably. "Looks a lot more like the opposite of fine to me, lovie", he says, quick to flush the water in the toilet that you didn't have the strength to do yourself before sitting down by your side, pulling your body into him. You let out a sharp cry. Head lulling back, hitting Joel's chest. The worry inside him only grew. You looked so weak and worn out as if you had been sick for weeks.

"What's hurting, koala bear? Tell me what's wrong?", Joel pushed away the strands of hair that were sticking to your damp forehead carefully. He was starting to get desperate, but you only shook your head and said, "All good, just need a moment", You brassed yourself onto Joel's chest. The dizziness clouded your mind once more, making you lean your forehead onto your boyfriend for support. You could feel the room spinning. Joel said nothing. A part of him wanted to demand an answer, but you were way too cool for it. Then you jerked back, scraping for the toilet once more as you dipped your head, gagging. Joel reached for your hair, pulling it away from your face as he moved to rub your back slightly.

"Go", you said, trying to shove him away with the hand that was closest to him. But you were too tired, and Joel was too strong and stubborn. There was no way he was leaving you in a state like this. "Breathe through it", Joel said to you instead, choosing to ignore your plea. You shook your head, your hand moving down to your stomach as you hunched over. Yet another cry of pain slipped past your lips. Had you eaten something funny? But you all had dinner and breakfast together. Neither he nor Sarah was feeling anything, so surely it couldn't have been food.

"I'm taking you to the hospital", "No", you sat down on the cold tiles, pushing Joel away from you as best as you could. Welcoming the cool sensation of the floor, which eased nausea ever so slightly. But the cold, hot shiver still ran all over your body. Making your hands and legs tingle. "I wasn't suggesting it", Joel said firmly, reaching for you. He was about to lift you, nudging your legs so you would wrap them around his torso when his eyes drifted to a red patch on the gray tiles from where he had pulled you closer to him.

Your eyes followed his gaze, and you gasped, turning to press your hands onto the red patch. "No, no, no", you muttered anxiously. Your eyes picked up tears as you shied away from Joel now. Yes, you two had been together for a bit, and yes, he had a teenage daughter at that house and was probably the only man who wasn't phased by the thought and sight of period blood, but your insides shrink in size at the sight of it.

"Hey, no…", Joel reached for your palms in an attempt to move them from the stick surface, but you shrugged him off. "It's all okay; don't worry about it", he's quick to reassure you. Now it all makes sense to him. You must have been starting to feel off this morning or you must have gotten your period. That explained why you were so restless in the morning. A whole day by yourself like this. You should have called him. Should have let him know. Joel shrugged the towel off the hanger, dampening it in the sink, before he once again got closer to you.

"No, Joel,", you pleaded once more, but the male-only gave you a look. "Lovie, I've cleaned my cum off your legs…", "That's not the same", you cut in quickly, trying to figure out a way to push Joel out of the bathroom. But he just wrapped his hand around your wrist, pulling it up to whip it against the damp towel, repeating the motion for your other hand as well, before he threw it onto the floor and scrubbed at the remaining blood.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss on your shoulder. Your breathing was still uneven. Hands were now digging into your lower stomach. He wondered what his next move should be. Sarah had started her period about a year ago. Joel had learned to juggle her emotions pretty quickly. Learned to read between the lines. To provide comfort in all the different ways if she chose to shut her dad out for a day or two. But they talked; they always talked. Joel was used to Sarah coming up to tell him when the sharks entered the ocean. Your limits were still somewhat new to him.

Your body felt heavy. So heavy and weak. Another wave of warm coldness ran through you, and your vision was filled with tiny black dots. "Joel…", you called out lightly, and his eyes were instantly on you. Your eyes only rolled to the back of your head, hands slipping from beneath you as your body bucked forward. Joel was quick to catch you. Lowering you to the floor as he tapped lightly on your cheek.

He doesn't remember the last time he was in the hospital. Well, besides the time he brought you here with a broken ankle. But that was some time ago. Some years of friendship and falling in love slowly ago. You were slipping in and out of consciousness. That was where he had drawn a line. Scooping you into his arms and heading straight for the hospital. A phone in his pocket buzzed. Joel ignored it at first, but then pulled it out, pressing it to his ear. "Miller", he said bluntly, "Dad…".

Joel cursed under his breath. In the chaos of it all, he had forgotten about Sarah. He left the bathroom a mess. There was both vomit and blood in some places. "Hey, baby girl,", he tried to keep his voice calm, "Is uncle Tommy with you, baby?" But Joel's almost convinced that Sarah is now standing by the bathroom door, looking inside. "What happened? Where are you? Where's Y/N?", her voice was trembling slightly. "Go up to your room, baby. We had to go to the hospital for a bit".

The line goes silent, and he knows that she hasn't moved an inch. "Is Y/N dead? She…", "Of course, she is not silly; scrap those thoughts out of your mind. She's got a bit unwell, that's all". He knew that the bathroom looked worse than it was, but then again, he wasn't there to guide Sarah away from it. "Can I talk to her?", she asked almost shyly. Joel let out a sigh. "Doctor is with her, love bug. I'll call you as soon as I can put her on the phone, okay?", Joel assumed that Sarah must be nodding. The sound of Tommy in the background eased his worries. She wasn't alone. Sarah wasn't alone, so that meant that for now, Joel would focus on you.

When the nurse lets him into your room, you're hooked up to the drip. The other arm bandaged where they must have drawn blood. The color has returned to your skin. You're munching on a sandwich that a nurse must have brought for you, smiling at the woman who double-checks the IV before picking up the tray with little needles and things . "Your boyfriend here walked holes in the hospital floor", the elderly lady smiles, patting you on your shoulder. You meet Joel's eyes. Eyes that were still filled with so much worry. Merry said that you looked rough when you just got there. Delusional and all. Had vomited all over yourself during the ride here. The lack of fluids and minimal intake, mixed with a really heavy flow of your period, had made your body shut off for a moment.

"But she's all good; two more drips, and she should be good to go", Turning to Joel, she gave him a warm smile as well before excusing herself. You placed your sandwich back on the tray. Reaching your hand toward your boyfriend. Joel let out a sigh as he stepped closer, taking hold of your hand before pulling it closer to his lips.

"I've gained at least half ahead of new gray hair", he said quietly, leaning against your forehead. You let out a quiet giggle. "Ah, I was wondering what was making you so much more handsome all of a sudden", your words made Joel smile, but the worry lacing his features didn't fade. "You frightened me, koala bear. I thought I was going to…", but Joel just shook his head. Not allowing himself to say those words. Trying to scrape away the image of your unconscious body in his arms.

You moved to run your fingers over his forehead and down his cheek. "Wasn't my intention", you said softly, and Joel nodded. "No, I know just… Should have told me you had started your period. Would have been there for you. Would have helped". Your eyes searched his before you leaned in to pack his lips softly. "I'm not letting you miss your shift because I'm bleeding", "Well, I would. Because you come first. Always have, always will". You shake your head in disbelief at how lucky you are to have a man like Joel in your life. "Eat up; you need to get your strength back", Joel takes the sandwich in his hands, moving it closer to your lips. Smiling to himself as you take a nice big bite. Okay. You were going to be just okay, and you wwere never going to go through any of this on your own. Never let it get to a point like this again.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

TLOU taglist: @theslytherinwriter @daddysfavoritesexkitten @randomstory56 @woofgocows @ohthemisssery

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller #the last of us imagine #the last of us imagines #the last of us x reader #the last of us x you #the last of us #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader

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nhescio · 2 months

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Okay I have a visceral need for a hannigram time travel fic but instead of the typical Will or Hannibal fix-it, the person that time travels back is none other than Frederick fucking Chilton. Like imagine Chilton wallowing around all crispy and stuff after being human torched wondering what he’s done to deserve everything he’s been through. And when he’s finally okay enough to be discharged from the hospital to go home, an anvil falls on him or smth. And as he’s lying there incredulously, he’s like, yknow what? Im not even upset about this. I think Ive suffered enough near death experiences. Please just let this one put me out of my misery. And as his eyes finally drift shut, he hears an alarm blaring in his face. An alarm from his phone. His phone which, when he goes to shut it off, displays an impossible sequence of numbers— the plastic screen shinning with a date from four years past.

So after freaking out and confirming that he is indeed in the past, (and weeping in joy over his unmutilated body) Frederick does the obvious— he packs his bags, pays a visit to the bank, and gets on the next available flight out of the country.

And then his plane crashes and he dies.

But of course he doesn’t die because that seems to be a common theme in Frederick Chilton’s life!

So he’s jolting out of bed again to that same alarm and he tries not to tear his own face off (not that he would ever actually do that cause he knows how easily he could lose that precious face). And (after a few more tries) since this time loop bs isn’t letting him run away, he does the next best thing— phoning the FBI with a tip so that they would investigate Hannibal Lecter and put him behind bars for good. But of course Hannibal somehow finds out and discretely shakes the FBI off his trail while simultaneously sending one of his murderer protégés after Frederick. And so not even a month passes by before Frederick finds himself dying and waking to that infuriating alarm again.

And he keeps going through different loops trying to avoid being “murder tableau of the week”, but failing miserably every time. After dying for what feels like an infinite number of times, he’s realized two main consistencies. Number one, he can’t personally expose Hannibal Lecter as the ripper if he doesn’t want to be gutted, and two, the sooner Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter begin their weird courtship, whether from Frederick’s deliberate meddling or from ripples of unrelated actions, somehow he’s left with much less blood and chaos in the aftermath. In one incredible timeline, Frederick even managed to only sustain one life threatening disembowelment for three years before accidentally making a rude comment about Will Graham’s lack of a social life, thereby leading to a cold death in the Atlantic.

After this revelation, he vows to get Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter to bang each other as soon as possible for the sake of his own self preservation— going through elaborate plans like befriending and recruiting the FBI’s forensics team, or snapping Jack Crawford out of his obliviousness so he’d bluntly give them a nudge, or even once flirting with Will Graham himself to get Hannibal Lecter jealous (note: that attempt did NOT end up well).

And one day, after a shocked text from his “Sassy Science Matchmaking Squad” group chat proclaiming that Hannibal and Will, lovingly dubbed Hannigram by the group, had spontaneously quit their jobs and run away to Europe together, Frederick suddenly realizes he hasn’t been stabbed or burned or maimed or drowned or disemboweled once! He thinks back to his early success in this timeline— silently high fiving with Beverly and Jimmy (Zeller, the spoilsport, had refused to partake) while voyeuristically watching Will and Hannibal shyly having their first kiss in the shadows of a filthy crime scene. In fact, he didn’t think anyone in their immediate circle had been stabbed or burned or maimed or drowned or— well you get the point.

And as one year turns to two to four to eight with no word from Hannibal or Will except the occasional postcard, a sort of cautious optimism starts building in Frederick’s heart. The years continue to fly by until one day, Frederick finds that his hair has turned a snowy white, and that his legs are too weak to support his aching body. He tries to take in a breath to laugh but it comes out as a wheeze. He’s at the end of the line once more, but this time at the end of a healthy, fulfilling life. His only wish is that he’s finally allowed to move on. And as he feels his life slowly drifting away from him, Frederick wonders if he’s accomplished whatever divine mission that godforsaken time loop had wanted him to complete. It really feels like he did the best he could this life, preventing every possible death on the East Coast by sending Hannibal and Will packing early. Sure, he feels bad for the poor suckers in Florence or Paris that were probably flambéed for a pretentiously fancy brunch, but realistically, those two would always leave a body count no matter where they went.

All Frederick wants now is to pass in peace. With a heavy sigh, Frederick willingly closes his eyes one last time, content to move on into whatever lies in the beyond.

And he dies. For real this time. Woohoo!

The End

#hannibal #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #frederick chilton #crack pseudo-fic??#i dont know what possessed me to write this #i havent slept for 27 hours #nheswrites

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leafostuff · 8 months

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Eyes On me [Ft. IVE's Liz]

Tags: panic attacks comfort, fluff, girlfriend!Liz

Author's note: It's been a while since I wrote for IVE, but I hope this one will do well. Plus, this will be a callback to my wattpad Era, where I used to do more comfort fics.

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there are three kinds of nights in your life.

The first kind is the normal nights, which after hitting the gym, eating dinner, taking a shower, and living overall like a functioning member of society you find yourself falling asleep at 11 PM, maybe 12 AM if you are really not that tired.

The second kind is the nights where you decide to laugh at the concept of sleep, channel your inner shut in and play video games for the whole night, or just goof off with your friends on discord until the sun rises

However, sometimes you have those nights where you find yourself in your bathroom at 3 AM, throwing up all of the food you ate in the entire day and overall being miserable?

Unfortunately, tonight was the third kind of night.

Do you have any idea how you got to this situation? Nope, all you could remember is that around 1 AM, you could only feel your stomach hurting like crazy, your anxiety levels going to the 11 forcing you to go to the bathroom to try and calm yourself

However, even after an hour this was to no avail since still you found yourself throwing up while your eyes were full of tears. "Absolutely fantastic, now the one thing that can fuck me up is-" your thoughts were suddenly stopped by a light touch on your shoulder

As you look up you find your girlfriend Kim Jiwon looking at you, she was wearing a white sweatshirt, which was probably stolen from your closet.

Long black hair just like the night sky and eyes that could show sadness was the only thing you could see from your fully teared eyes as your girlfriend kneeled down before you, letting her arms wrap around your body.

"Another anxiety attack?" She asked since those events were not new to your girlfriend, at least once a month she had to stay up all night with you to try and relax you, to the point it was impressive how she still wanted to stay with you

5 minutes of brushing your teeth and a spare change of pajamas later you walked toward your shared bed with Jiwon as she looked at you with a weak smile, but it was enough to make you feel happy and in the same time: somehow guilty

"Do you know what happened that you are feeling like that?" You simply shook your head in response as she just sighed, "Oh well, it's OK... let's just go to the bed ok? After you brush your teeth" she added, trying to close her nose to block the scent of the puke.

"I don't deserve you." That was the first thing you said while you inched slowly toward Jiwon as she laid her head on your shoulder.

"Ahhhh, so that is what you are anxious about?" She asked while she turned on the TV to a random episode of friends. You could only nod as your girlfriend pulled you into an embrace

"I just..." You hesitated, which in reaction Liz leaned and kissed your forehead. Even after numerous times, she has done that it still surprises you

"Just what?" she asked, he eyes pleading for an answer as you couldn't handle it anymore

"That I am too anxious for you" her reaction could only be puzzled as she tilted her head sideways, letting you explain

"You just... deserve someone who isn't depressed all the time or a scar-" You were shutted by your girlfriend's lips on yours, their sweet taste however was short.

"I. Will. Always. Love. You, " Liz said, each word was spoken clearly as your cheeks turned red from embarrassment. However, as you tried to turn away, both her palms on your cheeks, forcing you to look at her pleading eyes.

"Eyes On me okay baby? I will always love you, say it" she requests as you have no choice but to sigh and comply

"I will always love you" you recited her words as she smiled cutely and pecked your lips.

"Good, now... let's go sleep okay, baby?" She asked, however, as her hands went over to your back she could feel you shake.

"...you are still stressed, right? It's ok, let me help you relax, " she said as her hands reached to your back under your shirt, her fingers lightly tapping on your back, causing you to instinctively let your head find its rest on her chest.

You slowly start to destress yourself by taking deep breaths, "Good baby...I'm here for you," she said while pecking your forehead, "you need this sleep...more than me" she added as you finally close your eyes, the first snore is able to be heard from your unconscious self.

And the last words you manage to hear before fully drifting into dreams.

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#kpop fanfic #kpop #fluff #kpop fluff #ive lockscreens #ive messy moodboard #ive fluff #ive #ive liz

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taylor-titmouse · 10 months

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kink that doesn't say it's kink

i never thought id have a full blog post in me about writing but ive been rotating this in my head for days and finally think i can put my thoughts down. obv this is all subjective and only relative to me, it's not a screed about how you should write. it's more a look into my thinking.

for the past like, two weeks, i've been trying to come up with a story that fit the title "bred and breakfast" and coming up miserably blank. because hard as i try i couldn't find my way into a story that was a) about a bed and breakfast b) involved breeding kink in the way i want to do it and c) did not look at the camera and go "today we're writing about someone engaging in breeding kink!"* and issue C is what i'm gonna talk about.

for me, the purpose of writing smut, particularly genre smut that isn't just two people in the regular world having sex, is to present a reader with a fantasy situation where their kink is a natural consequence of the narrative. a situation where the fantasy is not an imagined fantasy for the characters, but a lived reality. obviously there are exceptions and ways to work a character having a relevant kink into the narrative (ex: the xenosexuality conference, brilliant's explicit kink for being an object of curiosity feeding into her situation as an object of curiosity to a bunch of horny aliens), but generally i want my stories to be about sexy things happening without premeditation or the characters pointing out that the situation is constructed.

it's the difference between a story about a bdsm couple tying the sub to a wall and pretending he's a prisoner in a dungeon getting whipped and getting off on it, and a story about a sexy criminal being tied to a dungeon wall and getting whipped and getting off on it. they are ultimately the same thing. guy gets whipped and gets a boner. the latter just does away with the tools of constructing the fantasy (negotiating, safewords, aftercare) and serves you the fantasy direct as part of a larger narrative you can care about. why is the prisoner there? what is his relationship to the whipper that makes this erotic? what happens to him after they fuck? his answers to those questions are more interesting to me than the bdsm sub's.

but as i said, this is all highly subjective. maybe the bdsm couple is more your speed and that's fine. but nothing pulls me out of a narrative like a story going "we're going to do bdsm now!" if bdsm and the fact it Is bdsm are not vital to the narrative. i do not want the strapping stablehand to explain safewords to his master he's about to spank in a barn. just spank him without asking, because he doesn't respect you. spank him til he bleats like a sheep and understands how hard you work to take care of his lordship's horses. spank him because it's what he deserves, not because we're engaging in spanking kink.

and the challenge for me now is figuring out a convincing way to get a character on a breeding bench at a bed and breakfast without them going "i would like french toast and to be put on a breeding bench for big cow men to fuck please" because while that might be funny, and might be sexy, it doesn't make for a very compelling narrative.

*and i don't want help figuring it out. i'll get there on my own

#tt talks writing #idk i need some sort of tag if i ever do this again

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ariundercovers · 3 months

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Homeward Bound (When Paths Cross Pt. V, Javier Peña x Reader)

Pairing: Javier Peña x Afab!Reader (No use of y/n!)

Length: ~3k words

Series Summary: Chucho's been like a father figure to you since he helped you out of a sticky situation on your second day in Laredo. What happens when you finally meet his son, the former-DEA agent, who just happens to ignite you in a way that you haven't felt before?

Chapter Summary: After three weeks away on work trips, you finally come 'home.'

Chapter Warnings: good mix of porn and plot in this one. p in v, Javi being a needy demon, spanish nicknames, safe sex, pushy javi (but never in a sexual way!), javi lacks impulse control. another brief moment of angst but it resolves quickly.

If you're so inclined, please drop a like and a reply/reblog! I live for your feeback, and it keeps me going and keeps me writing. Did you like it? love it? hate it? I want to hear all of your thoughts!

PREVIOUS PART (IV) HERE

It’s been three weeks since you’ve been able to stay over on a Sunday night.

As you prep for a new installation of an exhibition with additional courier responsibilities, terse mornings in the office have taken you out of state and out of town for continuous weekends. You’re miserable - you miss your Peña boys, very much so. You miss Chucho’s company and you miss Javi’s… everything.

You call as often as you can which is, admittedly, not all that often.

By the end of the third week, you’re starting to worry that Javi might have forgotten about you or written you off entirely. You know that’s just your own worry and self-consciousness showing through, but you can’t help it, regardless.

At the end of those three long, exhausting weeks, you finally trudge home on a Friday night, your cab dropping you off just outside your apartment. You haul your suitcase up the steps and into your small loft, the added exertion only serving to exhaust you even further. You wheel your suitcase inside and close the door behind you, moving so you can lean backward against it, eyes closing as you take a few deep breaths.

It’s good to be home, really, but all you want to do is throw yourself in bed and sleep for the next twelve or fourteen hours. Sighing, you open your eyes and pick yourself up off of the wall, dragging your suitcase back to your bedroom. You drop it on the floor next to the door and kick off your boots, flinging yourself into the bed. It’s comfortable, and you don’t want to move, but you force yourself to roll to your side and grab your phone off the end table, dialing the only person, as it turns out, that you want anything to do with when you’re this tired and miserable. The phone only rings twice.

“Muñeca?” Javi’s warm baritone trembles through the speaker, lighting up your body with its warmth.

“Hey, Javi. I just got back.” You can practically hear the smile through the other end of the speaker as he chuckles on the other end of the line.

“Good. I was starting to think you ran away from me. How are you? It’s been a long few weeks, feeling okay now at the end of it?” You nod and then answer with a hum.

“Yeah. I’m okay. Exhausted, but all in one piece. I’m just happy to be home. Did you stay out of trouble while I’ve been gone?”

He chuckles again and sighs. “A perfect angel. Nothing to report. Just don’t ask Pops what he thinks.” You giggle at the joke as he pauses for a beat. After a heavy breath on his end he asks, “Can I come to see you?”

You sigh, a bit exasperated by the thought of it, but you consider it, anyway. You really do want to see him.

“It’s late, and I’m exhausted. I’m sure I won’t be very good company at all.”

“Have you eaten?”

You pause, not wanting to answer. You can’t lie to him.

“No. I’ll eat in the morning.”

Javi sighs through his teeth - it’s a sharp sound that conveys to you his disappointment. “Absolutely not. I’ll pick something up on the way over. You need to eat, cariño. Even if you kick me out right after, let me bring you something to eat.”

“But Javiii…” You whine, annoyed at your own voice. When did you get so whiny?

“No, cariño. Food. What do you want? Anything. I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

You give in, offering him a suggestion for something you’re in the mood for, and you curl up on the bed, planning on just resting your eyes for a long while. After falling asleep accidentally, you’re awoken by the loud sound of persistent knocking at your front door. You jump slightly, standing and stretching your limbs before you trudge to the door and open it up, greeted by one beautifully bronzed and mustached Tejano.

“Javi-” You smile, just his presence alone lifting your spirits, and he lifts the food in his right hand with a smirk as he pushes into your apartment, shutting the door behind you. He sets the food down on the couch for a moment, turning and gathering you up in his arms. His grip is tight, warm, and comforting.

This, it turns out, feels far more like coming home than walking into your apartment did.

The scent of his cologne and his leather jacket permeate your senses, settling you with ease as you allow yourself to melt into his arms like putty. “Muñeca… I missed you. Pops has been unbearable without you around.” You smile into his jacket and sigh, pressing yourself against him fully.

“Oh? You just miss me keeping him at bay, huh?” He laughs - a few short breaths through his nose - and then leans down to nuzzle against your hair, nosing at the spot just behind your ear. Your hands wrap tightly around his waist, clinging firmly to him.

“Among… other things.” He chuckles again and trails a hand up to your chin, ticking it upwards with his index finger so he can lean in and kiss you properly. It’s a slow kiss - maybe the slowest you’ve shared so far - and it feels like it sets your skin completely alight. When he pulls away, he smooths a hand down your cheek before he offers you a lopsided smile and a slow breath. “Food has been delivered. Want me to go now? Let you relax?”

You shake your head frantically and tighten your grip, unwilling to let go.

“Absolutely not. You’re not going anywhere, Mr. DEA.”

He laughs and of course, obliges you. You have a seat together on the couch, wrapped up in his arms as he sits and eats with you, taking turns sharing a recollection of your missing weeks for a long while. He cleans up the living room before you sleepily tumble into bed together, barely bothering to strip yourselves of your clothing.

He wraps you up in his arms, hands stroking whatever strips of exposed skin he can reach until you find yourself falling into the most glorious dreamless sleep. He follows shortly thereafter, body cradling yours and keeping you safe and warm under the sheets.

~~~

Javi wakes before you do, stirring you from your dreamless slumber with the scent of fresh coffee and a bag of donuts. Groggily, you sit up as he rubs your back, urging you awake.

“What time is it?” You ask.

“Quarter to nine. Thought you could use the extra sleep.” He holds up the bag to you as if it’s an offering. “Breakfast? Made it myself.”

“Oh I’d bet you did. Krispy Kreme bag label and all, huh?” He shrugs nonchalantly, that distinctive smirk pulling up at the corner of his lips once again. You share a quiet breakfast in bed together, with Javi’s side pressed up against yours against the headboard as you pick at each other’s donuts. It’s comfortable in a way that you haven’t felt with someone else before - at least not for a very long time, you think.

You take your time finishing, chatting easily all the while, before you announce your intentions to take a shower - alone. Javi’s look is one of severe disappointment, immediately offering you the saddest puppy dog eyes as he begs you to let him join you. Ultimately, the pleading face he gives you cracks your resolve in an instant. You let him join anyway with the promise of keeping his hands to himself.

And, Javi does, in fact, behave in the shower. You’re truly surprised but, save a few brief wandering hands, he largely keeps them to himself and lets you bathe quickly and efficiently. You feel remarkably better and refreshed not that you’ve washed the feeling of airline travel off of your body completely.

When you get out, however, all hell breaks loose. No promises were made for how he’d behave after the shower, so in no time at all he has you pressed up against the countertop, leaning over you as his lips attach themselves to that tender junction between your neck and collarbone. He has you caged in, unable to move anywhere but exactly where he wants you to be. One hand reaches down for your thigh, hitching it up over his own hip as your core brushes against his rigid length. You gasp at the contact, his searing heat sending sparks down your spine.

“I’ve missed you, Muñeca…” You giggle and roll your hips forward slightly as one of his hands slides between your legs, thumb brushing lightly over your clit. Your breath hitches in your throat and your eyes fall shut as he leans forward, lips finding spots all over your cheeks and neck to kiss and nibble at. You’re putty in his hands, like always.

He works you quickly to the edge on his fingers, pulling a powerful orgasm out of you that leaves you breathless and shaking. Then you drop to your knees and take him into your mouth, hands massaging circles into his hips as his body tights and cums deep down your throat. Neither of you are sated, and you both know it.

You drag him into the bedroom and throw him down onto the sheets. Well, he assists - he’s a big boy - but you definitely urge him into position. Throwing one leg overtop of him, you straddle his waist, grinding against his deliciously hard cock as you lean down and kiss him furiously.

“It was like hell not being able to see you, not being able to talk to you, Javi… and not being able to touch you, either? I thought I was going crazy.” He chuckles and returns your affections, kissing you back with just as much feverishness as you’re feeling right now.

“So did I, cariño. I can’t tell you how many night I had to suffer… laying in bed thinking about you over and over again. It was torture.” You nuzzle your forehead against his cheek, pressing a kiss to his lower jaw before biting at it lightly. Hips rolling against him, you can practically feel the blood rushing back to his cock as you work him over.

“I need you, Javi. Please- fuck, I need to feel you so badly.” You whine into his ear, body mercilessly rolling along his as your slick starts to coat his shaft. If you move your hips just right, you can feel the tip of his cock notch at your entrance and then slip back out, begging you to just sink down onto him already. He groans, head dropping back in frustration as he tugs your hips upwards and off of him.

“Hold on, baby… I need to go get a condom-” Whining, you fall forward, throwing your bodyweight across his chest.

“Javiiii… I’m on birth control. You don’t have to.” He sighs and laces one hand into your hair, softly tugging as he lifts you up just enough to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Can’t be too careful though, bonita.” You groan but roll off of him, not willing to push it any further, however much you really don’t want to wait for him to go find one. He comes back quickly, rolls it on, and lays down, pulling you back ontop of him as he enters you in what feels like the blink of an eye. Immediately, he has you whimpering on his cock, whining and moaning as you bounce up and down with ease. With your eyes closed, every movement and feeling is intensified - the way he fills you so fully and completely, his greedy hands gripping into your hips, the way he has his thighs propped up for you like you’re sitting in your own personal throne.

You’re lost to it. Lost to him, really.

It’s not long before the two of you are tumbling over the edge together, a melted mess of moans and ‘so perfect’s and ‘missed you’s and ‘so good’s. You praise each other endlessly, a cacophonous chorus of each other’s moans and syllables as you come down from your respective highs. Somewhere in the post-coital haze, you register Javi wiping you down with a cloth and then curling into you on the bed. It feels safe, warm, and perfect. It’s everything you didn’t have while you were away, and everything you didn’t realize exactly how much you missed, either.

The rest of the morning goes by in a repeat fashion. You nap for a few moments, wake up, ravage each other once more, and inevitably fall back asleep. Over and over again, you find a calmness and an equilibrium in each other's bodies that both of you were severely missing while you were away.

Eventually, you both get hungry. The donuts could only do so much to satisfy you long-term. After getting out of bed - finally - and cleaning up, you set out for something to eat. Javi drives the two of you, keeping the windows wide open as you listen to Santana the entire drive. The tex-mex place he picked out wasn’t too far, only a fifteen-minute drive or so, but it feels like a lifetime with the way your stomach is gurgling at every turn. Once you’re finally seated and have ordered, he reaches across the table to grasp your hands, pulling them up to his mouth as he kisses your knuckles with a smile.

You settle into easy conversation together, recounting your past few weeks to one another. It feels natural, like second nature. Everything just feels right.

You really, really did miss this.

When you finally finish up, Javi helps you out of your seat with a chivalrous and well-placed arm, walking you outside and to the car with his fingers laced in yours. He drives you back to the Peña farm, where Chucho embraces you with the warmth and strength of a real father figure, making you feel so comfortable and loved that you don’t ever want to let go.

“Chiquita,” He addresses you. “You’ve been well missed, here. Javi has been insufferable.” You giggle at the comment and squeeze him a little tighter until he lets you go finally, holding your shoulders as he looks you up and down. “You look exhausted.”

“Yeah. Long couple of weeks. I’m just glad I’m finally home.”

Home. You think about that concept again for a moment, trying to consider it. It seems to keep coming up these past few days.

Home was starting to get pretty complicated for you. It wasn’t the northeast anymore, but it wasn’t your apartment, either. It was starting to feel more like the Peña house, really, but you know it hasn’t been long enough for that to really be viable. You shake off the thought and reassure Chucho, instead.

“And it’s good to see you. I missed you, too, Chucho.” He smiles and offers a curt nod.

“Stay for dinner. We’ll do a Saturday meal instead, keep you here a little longer, hm?” He heads off to the kitchen with a smile and Javi steps up to you, squeezing your shoulder.

“Care to take a walk with me, cariño?” You agree, of course, and he leads you outside, starting to lead you down one of the many footpaths across the large acreage of the farm. You settle into an easy conversation, then, talking about any and everything. It was carefree again, until you asked about his work.

“Why’d you decide to come back to Laredo, after all that time in the DEA? Chucho always talks about how into it you were.” He sighs. It’s a long, suffering one that makes you instantly regret asking in the first place.

“It’s a long story I’d rather not get into.”

“Oh. Sorry… I didn’t mean to overstep, Javi.” He shakes his head and looks over at you with a stern expression.

“‘S alright. Just, uh… change of topic? Why don’t you tell me about back home?”

There’s that word again.

Home.

You’re not so sure what to do with it. Where even is ‘back home?’ You’re certain he means back up North, but it doesn’t feel right to call it that, not anymore.

“Oh, you mean where I’m from? Back up North?”

“Yeah. What’s it like? I spent some time in D.C., training, but haven’t been further than that, really.”

“Well… it’s a lot of cities. Every two hours that you drive there’s a big city, pretty much. Washington D.C., Baltimore, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, New York, Boston… And you can keep going. Life gets oriented around them. Things here are… simpler, I think. Less hustle and bustle. I like it.”

“Yeah? You like sleepy Laredo?”

“You don’t?” You’re surprised, to say the least. Why bother coming back if he didn’t like it in the first place? Javi shrugs it off with a grunt, shoulders raising with a grimace.

“Never did so much. Spent a long time just wanting to get away. Go somewhere else. Anywhere but here.”

“Then why’d you come back?”

“When I left the DEA, I was lost. Didn’t have anywhere else to turn to. So I came home. Figured I’d retire, settle down and help Pops out. You know just as well as I do that he does way too much around here without asking for help.” You laugh sarcastically for a moment.

“Yeah that is true, absolutely.”

“Don’t think I even knew what else to do. This is all I know. Laredo, and DEA.” The conversation lulls as the two of you continue to walk until you finally speak up, an unasked question hovering at the tip of your tongue.

“Think you’re gonna stick around?” He slows and stops in his tracks, turning to face you as one hand reaches up to brush his thumb across your cheekbone. You can feel a heat rise to your cheeks slightly and he smiles at your reaction to him. The tone in his voice is playful, teasing, even, when he answers. You know what he’s implying, even if he won’t say it out loud just yet.

“I don’t know. Are you?”

~ ~ ~

a/n: Lil' bit of a cliffhanger on this one. Trying to set up some things to happen later on. I love all of you who are following along! Your interactions and comments and criticisms and all of it are so appreciated! xoxoxo

Taglist: @amyispxnk @picketniffler (lmk if you'd like to be added!)

NEXT PART (VI) HERE

#writing #no beta we die like men #javi peña smut #javi peña fanfiction #javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #javier peña #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal #fanfic #javier peña smut #narcos fanfiction #narcos smut #javier peña fanfiction #javier pena fanfiction

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 5 months

Note

OMG HI!

Ok so in one of your Pietro headcanons things you said Pietro was a morning person and let me tell you I am most certainly not so can I request Pietro x non morning person reader headcanons 💕💕 I can just imagine him running super fast around her in circles and her just looking at him like 🤨-😐-😞-😴

hiii!! neither am I!! im just a grumpy miserable bitch in the morning😭 that’s very cute! thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

NOT A MORNING PERSON HC’S

pietro maximoff x female reader

— I def think he's the annoying kind of early bird, one that's like, "you woke up at 9? ive been awake since.." one of those that sorta shames you for sleeping 'late', but he's not mean about it!! just cocky and irritating (but in a kinda cute way (I put that lightly))

— talking of which, he wakes up at 6 am (or 5) naturally. 7 is him being naughty and lazy

— in the morning, he religiously goes for a run. doesn't matter the weather, he's out the door by 6:30

— after the run, he comes back, showers and gets some work done around the house/ flat. maybe does the dishes from last night's dinner like a good little boy (im kidding)

— maybe he makes himself some breakfast, def something VERY healthy with lots of (idek!!? im not a health nut, but like pulses, wholegrains????) maybe eggs, sourdough and a big bowl of porridge with berries and nuts on the side. he's a freak, so he has no butter on the toast and no chocolate in the porridge. he def has a mid-morning lunch too, just bc he's constantly burning so much

— by 9, he's done everything he needs to do for the day, so he'd go and check on you, seeing you sleeping soundly - probs wanting to wake you up

— he'd whisper your name loudly, maybe prodding you awake. you'd open one eye, giving him a death glare. you'd huff and roll over, sleepily telling him to get lost

— he'd try again, maybe stroking over your back (as you’re now facing away ) you'd grumble, covering your face with a pillow or your arm

— he'd whiz around the other side of the bed, trying to coax you out to start the day he planned. he'd see how tired you are, so he drops it, kissing your forehead and saying how he'll be back in 10 to wake you

— he'd return and see you flat-out asleep, giving you another 20

— when he returns the second time, you're awake, yawning and rubbing sleep from your eyes. he'd say good morning, and tell you look pretty. also calling you a sleepy head or something

— when you're finally up and about, he'd be kinda hyper (not like a kid) but VERY awake whereas you'd be the complete opposite. yawning, grumbling, rubbing eyes all that stuff

—also, he's always telling you that you should wake up earlier bc it's good for you (blah blah I don't wanna hear it) and you tell him the same - how he should wake up later bc it's better for his health. it causes some lighthearted conflict

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

no taglist as don’t want to spam

#request #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff headcanon #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro x reader #pietro maximoff fluff #pietro marvel

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somber-sapphic · 1 year

Text

Stupid Lungs Part 2

Your nightmare continues. Sort of. Is it a nightmare? Who knows?

Word Count: 1964

-----

You shot up in bed, trying desperately to detangle yourself from the tangle of blankets and limbs you were wound up in. A hand grabbed your shoulder and you screamed. You couldn’t see anything, it was so dark. Why was it so dark? What happened? Were you dead?

“FRI, lights 15%, now!” The room lit up slightly but you continued to struggle, not fully understanding what was happening. You were in Wanda and Natasha’s room and there was a tube running from your arm. Now that you knew it was there you pulled it out, much to the frustration of the two women.

“Honey, no, that's medicine. You need that. Y/n, can you look at me?” Natasha very gently grabbed your face, forcing you to look at her. You met her eyes, trying to figure out what was happening. Her expression was one of pure compassion, love and concern rivaled only anxiety.

“That's it, there you go. That’s it. Can you take a deep breath?” You nodded a little and glanced over to Wanda whose hand had taken up almost permanent residence on the small of your back. She gave you a reassuring smile, encouraging you to breathe.

You sucked in a gulp of air, pleased to find that it no longer burned your lungs. The breath was still a little wheezy and it ended in a small cough, but you felt decidedly better.

“What’s happening?” You croaked, dropping your head against Natasha’s shoulder, hoping that she wouldn’t shrug you off. She did basically the opposite. She wrapped her arms around your waist and pulled you back so that you were pressed flush against her. That just confused you more, although you relished the contact.

“Seriously, am I dead? I don’t wanna be dead.” The second sentence came out as more of a whimper and you felt your eyes gloss over with tears. Wanda pursed her lips and leaned in to kiss the tip of your nose. You had to be dead. Why did they care so much? Why were they so…physical contact-y? You knew that the two of them both enjoyed physical touch, but you’d only ever seen them hold hands in public.

“No baby, you’re not dead. You’re sick, remember?” She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, pausing to touch your forehead. “Mm, really shouldn't be that warm still. Natty, we’re going to need to get her some ibuprofen and see if we can get that IV back in.” She was frowning slightly, but she was just so pretty. Natasha slipped it carefully back into your arm and you felt the medicine rush back into your veins. It was cold and made you feel groggy, but it wasn’t too bad.

“You’re pretty,” Fuck, had you said that? Oh god. You were going to die. This was the end. Your cheeks flushed a dark pink, but Wanda grinned at you. Natasha squeezed your middle gently, smiling ear to ear. If you could see the look on her face you probably would’ve fainted.

“Yeah, you are too. Little bit sweaty though, we might need to get you a shower soon.” She just brushed past it as if nothing had happened. God, what sort of alternate universe did Dr. Strange portal you into?

Your eyes went wide as you realized just how clingy you had been and how clingy you were still being. You could probably still blame it on the fever, but what would happen once you were better? They were going to tear you apart, they were going to hate you for needing them.

“Shh, your thoughts are so loud.” Wanda could read thoughts. How were you always forgetting that? She shook her head at you, giving a small sad smile. “We don’t hate you, right printsessa?” The woman glanced up at Natasha, who began rubbing your shoulders.

“We could never hate you bubs. You’re a beautiful, strong, wonderful woman who deserves nothing but the best. Right now, you don’t feel well and you need cuddles.” Shame, you shouldn't've felt such miserable shame. That’s all that ran through your mind as you recounted the events of the day before. The crying, begging for their attention, the sniffling and coughing. You were disgusting.

“I’m so sorry…I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to get in the way of your relationship, I’m gonna go now. I’m so sorry.” You whimpered, struggling to climb over Natasha.

“My sweet girl, stop with that. If you get up you’ll fall on your face.” The redhead held you back, tucking your head against her chest. The rhythmic beat of her heart filled your ears and you felt yourself relax a little bit.

“I didn’t mean to bother you guys. You shouldn’t have to put up with me.” Why did you think this would work out? Wanda moved closer to you and kissed your shoulder. They kept kissing you. And hugging you. And giving you pet names. Did they like you? No, they couldn’t, they were dating.

“Oh baby, that fever’s making you a little dense, huh?” Wanda teased, stroking your cheek. Waid, had you said that last part out loud? Wanda was pretty. Natasha was pretty. Girls were pretty. These girls specifically.

“Y/n, we want you to join our relationship, but only if that’s something you’d be interested in. I know you aren’t feeling well and you don’t need to decide right now, hell you don’t need to decide at all. If you want, you can stop talking to us forever, but I’d really rather that didn’t happen,” Natasha chuckled, sounding really nervous.

“Rambling aside,” the brunette gave her girlfriend a look that clearly meant ‘shut up’ and continued her speech. “We really care about you. We want to be able to hold you and care about you and give you cuddles whenever you need them. We want you to be with us Y/n. We want to be with you.”

You were shocked. They couldn’t mean it, right? Why would they want to be with you? What did you have that they wanted? You were just…well, you. And they were amazing women who literally threw themselves into battles. You did too, but not quite with the same enthusiasm and bravery that they did. Wanda could destroy someone's mind with a single thought. Natasha was a trained assassin who had nearly killed you once when you had first met. That's when you had fallen in love with her. Oh shit, you were in love. You were in love with these women who seemed to love you back. Maybe. Jury was still out on that one.

“Um…you, wait. But, that doesn’t make sense. Um, are you lying? Wait this…you’re too…you.” You gestured at the two of them, absolutely incredulous. You shivered aggressively and wrapped your arms around your middle, trying to keep warm. Your fever was still pretty high and your body was wracked with chills.

“Okay,” Wanda sighed and you felt Natasha sag against you. They were disappointed that you didn’t seem to understand, but understood that you’d been hurt before and really didn’t trust that they were being serious. That coupled with the fever was turning you into an absolute mess. “Let’s get some food into you, we’ll talk about this a little later.”

The woman beneath you shifted, placing you on the mattress. She looked disappointed and seemed to have tears in her eyes. Why was she crying? And why did you feel as if you were prepared to do anything to make those tears go away?

“No, no Natasha, don't cry. Please don’t cry.” You grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles, unsure of what you were doing. It felt right, but a little scary. “I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m so sorry. Please, tell me how to fix it.” You begged, trying to pull her back down. You missed her arms and her warmth.

She wiped her tears away and sat back down. You leaned forward hesitantly and kissed her forehead, then pulled back, biting your lower lip. She smiled and leaned forward to rest her forehead against yours.

“I…um…I don’t want you to go.” You glanced over at Wanda who was smiling warmly at the two of you.

“We aren’t going anywhere, dove. You want to lay back down for me? You’re shaking a little bit more than I think you should be.” Natasha cooed, easing you into Wanda’s arms. “I do think we should get you something to drink though, I’ll be right back, okay?” She kissed your forehead again, before stepping out of the room, leaving you with Wanda.

“You were crying when I found you. Honey, can you tell me why?” The witch asked, tucking the blanket around your shoulders. You looked down, not quite wanting to answer the question.��

“Um…Tony wanted me…he um…he was trying to make me sleep so he…he locked me in my room…I…he was just trying to-” You broke off, trying to keep yourself from breaking down again. You couldn’t seem to keep it together lately.

“I’m going to kill him.” She said simply, voice grave with hate. You’d heard that determination in her voice and you knew that she meant it. She was going to kill him.

“I’m sorry-”

“No, no baby, no apologies from you. There’s no reason for you to apologize. It’s all okay.” Wanda soothed, just as Natasha walked into the room carrying a bottle of water, some sort of dark purplish liquid medicine.

“Why are we apologizing?” The woman asked, instantly reading the tension in the room.

“Tony did something stupid, we’re going to let it go for now though.” Wanda practically growled, smoothing your slightly tangled hair. Nat’s eyes went wide, but she nodded, noting the red tinge in the witch's eyes. The two of you were lucky that she meant you no harm, otherwise she’d probably tear you apart.

“Okay, that's alright. How about we get this medicine into you and then go back to sleep, yeah? We can try for a shower when you’re feeling a little bit better.” The woman said, easing the nerves radiating off of you. Then you realized that you’d have to take medicine, which was one of your least favorite things.

You wrinkled your nose and ducked your head against Wanda, hoping that she’d provide protection from the disgusting taste of the medicine. Didn’t they already have you on antibiotics? Wasn’t that what the IV was for? Why did you need this?

“No thank you.” You mumbled, using your arms to shield yourself from Natasha.

“I know you don’t want it, but this will help. The antibiotics are doing their job, but you’ve still got a pretty bad fever and I want to get you drugged.” She smiled, lifting the cup to your lips.

“I hate you.” You mumbled, allowing her to pour the medicine into your mouth. You grimaced at the taste and the feeling of it going down your throat.

“Good girl.” You glared at her and turned back to Wanda, pouting tiredly. You yawned and nestled against her neck, absorbing her warmth.

“C’n I go back to sleep?” The witch made a sound and you smiled, knowing that the answer would be a yes.

“Course you can love. We’ll try some food later, okay?” She kissed your forehead and Natasha slipped back into bed beside you. The redhead wrapped an arm around waist and curled herself around you, forming a protective cocoon.

“Not gonna leave?” You grabbed Natasha’s hand, making sure that she wouldn’t go away.

“Nope, not leaving. Take a nap, pretty girl. We’ll be here when you wake up.” With that, you allowed your eyes to slip closed, comforted by the fact that you finally had people who loved you.

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earlgreydream · 1 year

Text

🍓 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝟒. || 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤!𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐜𝐰: 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 (𝐯𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫), 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐮

𝐚/𝐧: 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫! 𝐈 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈’𝐦 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡! 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤-𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠-𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲

As hard as Bucky tried to nurse you back to health, you’d been sick for days, dehydrated and burning with fever, unable to keep anything down.

“Babydoll, look at me,” Bucky spoke softly, stroking back your hair as he sat on the edge of your bed.

Your lashes parted just enough that his blurry face came into view, a migraine pounding in your head. Your fingers gingerly slipped over his, your lips trembling as Bucky gently squeezed your hand.

“My friend Steve is a doctor, he’s going to come take a look at you because I think you need some medicine to get better. We’re not kicking this bug on our own,” he tried to speak quietly, praying that you wouldn’t panic like the last time he’d mentioned a doctor.

“Please no,” your whimper was barely audible, eyelids unable to stay open from the exhaustion the illness had wracked on your body.

Bucky sighed, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. He’d already called Steve, the only confidant he could trust with you — to come see about your afflictions. He was scared, seeing you so weak and fragile and a shell of yourself, frightened Bucky into realizing how delicate you were.

You stirred as Bucky slipped from the bed, going to answer the door. You were too miserable to even react, the only indicator of your fear being the increasing heart rate. The bedroom door opened gently, Bucky’s friend Steve following him in after a few minutes of hushed discussion.

“Hi, bunny,” the blond man spoke softly, a beard making his face appear gentle as he knelt beside you, Bucky watching anxiously.

Tears slipped down your cheeks, and you used all your strength to shy away from the hand that reached out to touch your face, unfamiliarity striking terror into you. Your few months with Bucky had trauma bonded you, the only thing scarier than him was someone else.

“Please, don’t be difficult. He’s not going to hurt you, Steve only wants to help,” Bucky promised, pulling you to sit on his lap, the vibranium arm snaking around your waist.

“D-don’t let him hurt me,” you begged into Bucky’s neck.

Steve’s hands were gentle as he felt your fever, his fingers gently massaging your throat to be sure nothing was swollen.

“Gonna press on your stomach, okay? Tell me if it’s uncomfortable. I’ll be real gentle, I promise,” Steve spoke softly, a gentle patience about him that was so dissimilar to Bucky.

Warm palms pressed to your stomach, making you feel like you were going to throw up the little bits of bread and soup you’d had.

“Don’t!” You gasped, spasming against Bucky, pulling your knees to your chest to protect yourself.

“Baby-“

“It’s okay, it’s alright. You’ve definitely got a bad strain of the flu, darling,” Steve diffused Bucky before he could reprimand your outburst and uncooperation.

“I’m going to give you some antibiotics, okay? After a couple days you should feel like a new person. For now though, you’re pretty dehydrated and that’s contributing to how awful you feel. I need to give you an IV and put you on a saline drip to get some fluids in you,” Steve explained patiently, his cornflower blue eyes never leaving yours as he spoke.

“You said he wouldn’t hurt me,” you whispered to Bucky, shrinking back against his chest.

“It won’t be bad, just a quick little pinch and it’ll help you feel so much better,” Bucky promised, one hand rubbing your back, attempting to soothe you.

“You can be good for us, can’t you? I know you feel icky, but I promise I’m going to help,” Steve tenderly touched your cheek, before retrieving an IV needle from his kit.

You laid your arm out, fighting back tears as Bucky held you still, letting Steve stick you as gently as possible. His heart ached at your pained whine from being stuck, hurt in your eyes as he taped the needle down, hanging a bag of fluids beside the bed.

“M’freezing,” you mumbled as the cold seeped through your veins, coupled with your fever to leave you trembling against Bucky’s warm form.

“Here,” he wrapped a fuzzy blanket around you, helping you settle against him, trying to talk you into a nap while you hydrated.

Bucky smeared kisses over your forehead, helping you drift off while Steve went to get some antibiotics for you. The house was quiet, freezing rain coming down on the roof in a rhythm that kept you drowsy.

You didn’t remember Steve coming back, just waking up to him easing the needle out and wrapping the injection spot. He gave you the first dose of the antibiotic, and Bucky informed you that he’d been staying to oversee your recovery.

“Daddy,” you sighed, your skin clammy and sticky from sweat as you sat up.

“I want a bath,” you requested once you earned his attention, wanting to be clean.

Bucky helped you up, frowning at the way you were unsteady on your feet, dizzy as you sat down on the edge of his bathtub, patiently waiting as he filled it with water.

“Can I wash your hair for you?” He asked, catching you off guard.

It was one of the first times he had asked what you wanted, offering himself instead of forcing it upon you. You nodded, not wanting to lift your sore arms to scrub your scalp.

Bucky carefully washed the grime from your hair, careful not to get any water in your eyes. His strong hands massaged your head as he ran the detachable faucet over it, getting all the soap and conditioner out.

His movements paused at your brief sigh, though he relaxed when he saw it was because his touch felt good, and was entirely wanted by you.

“I’ve got it,” you whispered, taking the loofah and cleaning your skin while he leaned on the counter and waited.

“Once you’re down again, I’ll make you some toast. Do you think you can keep it down?” He questioned as you sat on a stool in front of the mirrors while he toweled your hair.

Your affirming hum was enough for him, and he leaned in to press a kiss to your bare shoulder, so tender you almost forgot about the reality of your relationship.

“I’ll go start it, leave you to dress. Steve is working in my office if you need anything from him. I’ll be in the kitchen,” Bucky squeezed your waist before disappearing, letting you get dressed by yourself.

You found warm pajamas and socks, still bitterly cold despite Bucky’s attempts to keep the house warm in the winter. He watched as you entered the kitchen, pressing the button to turn on the kettle for some tea.

“I’ll get make it for you, go rest,” Bucky’s tone was gentle, though an edge of sternness hung in his voice so you didn’t argue.

You kissed the Star on his arm, sending a painful twinge through Bucky’s heart. He watched you slip around the bar into the open living room, putting on one of your soothing movies to doze in and out to.

With your sickness, he’d gotten less strict about you using the television, unworried about you being upset when you put on something quiet that ended up putting you to sleep a couple times a day. Young magicians casted spells on the television, bad CGI of the early 2000s adding to your coziness, and before your tea and toast was finished, you were barely awake.

“Try to wake up and eat for me, bunny,” Bucky helped you sit up on the couch, smiling at your sleepy yawn.

“I feel a little better after my bath and being hydrated,” you confessed as you sipped the tea and nibbled on the toast.

Bucky relaxed, tying your hair up and playing with the hem of your pajamas. His warm hand slipped under your shirt, rubbing your back tenderly. He looked up when Steve entered the room, leaning in the doorway, watching the two of you.

“You’re starting to look a little better,” he broke the silence, walking over and feeling your still-warm forehead.

“All I want is to sleep,” you confessed, your eyelids heavy.

“Drink the rest of the tea first. You need to stay hydrated. Daddy’s taking good care of you,” Steve hummed, exchanging a look with Bucky.

You forced the last couple swallows of lukewarm tea down, before dragging yourself to your feet.

“Your bed?” You mumbled, and Bucky frowned.

“I’ve got to work late tonight, I don’t want to wake you coming back to bed. Sleep in your own bed and get a good nights sleep,” he held your face, pressing a kiss to the bridge of your nose.

You were too tired to protest, satisfied when he handed you the stuffed rabbit that you curled up with when you weren’t snuggled into his warm body. You’d gotten used to sleeping next to him, safe from any unknown threats that lurked in the dark. The sound of the wind frightened you, your body remembering what it felt like to nearly freeze to death, anxiety only satiated when you were curled up against the space heater of a man.

“Steve is staying?” You questioned, uneasy that Bucky would be working, letting Steve unsupervised in the house with you.

“Yes, he’s here if you get to feeling icky again.”

Your eyes locked on the blonde that towered over you, his broad body nearly as thick as Bucky’s. After a moment of reading your expression, Bucky understood that anxiety was woven in your features. You didn’t trust Steve yet, afraid of everyone who wasn’t your savior.

“I can work from my laptop in your room until you fall asleep,” Bucky offered a compromise, knowing he couldn’t rush you into being comfortable with Steve.

You nodded, relaxing as he settled down in the rocking chair at the foot of your bed, standing guard while you slept off some of your sickness.

“People are looking for her. They’re playing the missing persons ads on the news,” Steve spoke over a cup of coffee, alone with Bucky in the kitchen long after you’d gone to bed.

“Even still? It’s been months. They usually give up after seventy-two hours,” Bucky sighed, shaking his head.

“That’s what you get for snatching a Stark.”

“She’s better off with me. She was mistreated, and the Starks have a world of enemies. Here she is safe and loved,” Bucky glared until Steve soothed him.

“I know. She’s perfect, she’s lovely, I’m just saying, they may come looking here eventually. How long are you going to hide her in this house? At some point, you’ll have to assimilate back into real life.”

“She’s still not completely attached, but it’s getting better.”

Bucky stood off the counter he was leaning on when you walked in, offering an arm. You sank into his side, his vibranium prosthetic wrapping around your waist as he smeared a kiss over your forehead.

“The weather is nice today. I think some fresh air would do you some good,” Steve broke the silence, and you froze against Bucky.

“It’s too cold,” you mumbled, shaking your head.

“Darling,” Bucky’s voice was surprisingly soft, and he reached over and grabbed a blanket for you.

Steve handed you a hoodie, pulling it over your head and smiling when the sleeves fell over your hands. Bucky lifted you effortlessly, carrying you outside to the front porch, where a white swing hung overlooking the garden. The last bits of snow had melted off the ground, promising spring soon, but the air was still crisp.

You shivered as you wrapped the blanket around yourself, settling onto the swing and inhaling the clean air. The sun was warm on your face, bringing life back into it that made Bucky breathe easy again.

“I love you,” Bucky’s eyes locked with yours, and you slowly leaned in and kissed him.

“I’m going to keep you safe,” he promised.

“I know.”

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