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myuminji · 1 year

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Just a comic about two people catching up again [Angel AU]

[ID: A Trigun comic of Wolfwood after his death in Trigun Maximum.

Abbreviated ID: Wolfwood is now an angel with wings and a halo tied to his grave. He cannot be seen or heard by others, but Livio visited his grave and mostly filled him in on the finale, and Wolfwood waits for Vash to show up. When he does, Wolfwood is stunned and worried by his black hair, though he deems Vash fine when he pulls out drinks for them both.

Vash pours the drinks and talks. He confesses that he killed someone and calls himself a coward and the worst, apologizing for being selfish and not saving Wolfwood. Wolfwood angrily shouts that everything was his decision, and Vash is an idiot for blaming himself.

He says that Vash has done so much for Wolfwood and for others, and he calls Vash brave. Vash falls asleep with tears in his eyes, but he seems lighter when he wakes up. Vash leaves, promising to return, and Wolfwood says that he'll "watch him from afar... again." The title is "#1 'What happened to your hair?'". Full ID below readmore in 21 paragraphs.

The comic starts with a dark, noise-filter panel of the Punisher being used as Wolfwood's gravestone, with the quote "Nicholas D. Wolfwood has died" written over it.

Below that is Wolfwood, who has wings and a halo. He sits pensively and narrates, "At least, that's what everyone has come to believe, including me. Yet here I am, still roaming on this damn barren planet... But I wouldn't say I'm quite alive anymore. Since I couldn't feel hunger or thirst like I used to." He thinks, "'Ghost,' like those horror stories was it?"

He narrates over sketchy panels of himself frowning while floating next to his grave and yelling at Livio. "There, are other things I found that fits the term, like how I can't bring myself to far too far from my grave, or how others can't see me at all." We see Livio tearing up and saying "Nico-nii..." while Wolfwood furiously waves his arms and shouts, "I am!! Here!!!!"

Livio is shown speaking with a teary smile while Wolfwood leans against Punisher and listens. Wolfwood says, "Livio is the first and only person I've met so far. And luckily, he was quite a storyteller. I was able to get a grasp of the situation, and its aftermath. And what happened to him in the end."

Livio smiles and says, "It's been three months ever since... But even if we couldn't get ahold of him now, I'm sure he'll come back to you someday." Wolfwood narrates, "—And knowing that idiot, he probably would."

A close-up of Vash's coat in the wind as Wolfwood narrates, "So it didn't come as a surprise to me when he visited my grave. I'd even thought up of things to say when we meet again. Everything was thrown out of the window when he appears, of course. I could vividly remember the one question that burns in my head..."

Wolfwood looks shocked as Vash, hair fully black, waves cheerfully, "Yo! It's been a while, hasn't it? Wolfwood." Below the two floats the question: "#1 'What happened to your hair?'"

Wolfwood sweats, "Spikey, your hair. Doesn't it mean... Are you okay???" Vash smiles sheepishly, "Ah, I hope you're not mad I didn't come sooner, don't haunt me please..." Wolfwood shouts, "That's not the problem right now!!" Vash pulls something out and exclaims, "But look what I got for you!! Alcohol!!!" Wolfwood shouts, "What sort of person do you see me as!?"

Vash excitedly pulls out a bottle and two shot glasses. "It's not the only reason why I'm late, but it did took me a month to hunt this down... I recall you said you wanted to try them, right?" Wolfwood buries his face in his hands and says, "Where the hell are your priorities... You know what, yeah. I'm not gonna ask anymore since you look fine."

Vash smiles a bit tiredly and says, "Hmm,, I'm glad this place hasn't turn to ruins yet~ I've still got lots I need to tell you that's happened out there! And I thought it's better to talk about it with drinks on the side…" He clinks two glasses together. "So, cheers! ..."

He and Wolfwood are both awkwardly silent, and Vash sweats and frowns nervously. Then he pours a glass onto the ground, and Wolfwood furiously shouts, "D'ya really expect me to drink off the ground!? Stupid needle noggin!!!!!"

Vash laughs sheepishly, and he speaks via empty speech bubbles while Wolfwood listens, drinking with a small smile. Vash says, "... And when that happened I..." He drops his gaze and says between long pauses, "I..... When that happened......" Wolfwood watches him seriously as he says, "... Say. Wolfwood, is this how you've felt all the time?"

Vash looks down sadly. "You I see, I... killed someone in the end." He laughs, eyebrows drawn in. "I guess you're right. I am bound to choose someday." He takes another sip, then downs it and falls backwards. "Isn't it funny? That I've called you a coward once for killing... But guess who's the coward now~? It's always been me, isn't it?"

Vash lies on his back and laughs. "... Haha. I wonder if you're laughing too. I really am the worst, aren't I?" Wolfwood looks down as Vash continues, "You've done so much for me, but all I've caused you are troubles. I was selfish, always chasing after my own goals... That you couldn't ask for my help. That I couldn't save you. Just what kind of friend am I?"

Vash scrubs his eyes with an arm and says shakily, "Sorry... Wolfwood... I'm so sorry..." A close-up panel of his mouth shows Wolfwood saying, "... Just so you know--" Expression unimpressed, he exclaims, "There's no way in hell I'm accepting that lousy apology! You drunkard!"

He stands up and seems to kick Vash, who's still on the ground and mostly out of sight. Wolfwood demands, "Why are you even sorry for something like that, huh?? I chose my own path. It was all my decision! How many times do I say it to get it stick in that thick head of yours? Stop. Blaming. Yourself. For the things. You've not done. Idiot! Stupid spikey hair!!"

Vash's face is cut off, but a tear in his eye can be seen as he weakly says, "... oof.. wood..." Wolfwood looks tired and sighs, "... Ha... Don't feel bad about me. Until when will you realise just how much you've done for us? You've done more than enough for me, Needle Noggin."

The perspective zooms out to focus on the sky and two moons, including the fifth moon. Wolfwood's wings and the Punisher can just be seen at the bottom. Wolfwood says, "And you're brave, to go against what you've been taught your whole life. You're not a coward. You faced them until the end. So don't sell yourself short like that next time, okay?" We see Vash's face, smiling with tears in his closed eyes. Wolfwood concludes: "I'll get mad."

Wolfwood narrates, "—He passed out right after for the whole night on the cold ground. I realised how little I could help in the situation." He tries to drape his coat over Vash, sweating, and wonders, "Wouldn't it just pass through ...?"

Time passes, and Vash gets up with a sneeze and rubs his eyes. Wolfwood watches him with his eyebrows raised, and Vash laughs quietly and a bit nervously. Wolfwood narrates, "As if he'd heard my voice, a burden seems to be lifted off his shoulder when he woke up. That, or maybe he'd forgotten what happened last night. He was quick to take his leave right after.

"And so, Vash the Stampede went on a journey with a promise." Vash waves goodbye, turning to leave with his bag in hand. "I'll be sure to bring back more stuff next time!! See you later!" Wolfwood concludes, "While I watch him from afar... again." Wolfwood sits below the Punisher and waves back, saying with bemusement, "Has he never heard the phrase 'do not disturb the death?' He really throws me off..." The title is named, and it says "/ END." End ID]

[link to Image ID reblog post!]

#''if you can't go to see the world I'll bring the world to you instead'' post trimax vash who often comes back to ww bringing things he foun #and it piles up. alot.#i have up to 8 chp of these tho idt i can draw them all haha #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #trigun #trigun maximum #trimax spoilers #trigun maximum spoilers #vashwood #centric #/p

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jokeringcutio · 1 year

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DRABBLE/ Insomnia!READER X THE GRABBER

Fandom: Black Phone 2022

Pairing: The Grabber/ Albert Shaw x Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: Kidnapping, Dark!, Non-con/Dub-con, Forced!Blowjob, Smut, Insomnia!Reader, Kidnapped!Reader, Victim!Reader. Implied age gap/ older man/younger woman, somnophilia, use of Little/good Girl.

AN: for @ninakuli How would the Grabber react if the reader couldn’t get to sleep? Well, this might be one of the ways.

“Can’t sleep?”

The rough voice made you look up from your position lying on the moldy mattress. You wondered how anyone could sleep here. A stranger’s house, a damp basement, an unknown environment. The walls were bare except for the painting peeling down. The tiny barred window that let in the only light, whether it was day or night because of the lamp that hung in front of it, was up too high. The walls absorbed any sound. It was a prison made with hellish barriers.

And then there was that stranger who came watching. You never knew when he would be down here. Never knew what he would do next. It had you on edge. How could anyone ever sleep when he was around?

So far, he’d mostly been down to watch you, talk to you, work on your mind until his words confused you and you started to believe you’d ended up here all because of your own doing. That you deserved being here.

But there had been that one time when you had pretended to have been asleep, eyes closed, in hopes he would become bored and turn away. But instead of leaving, you had heard his breathing deepen. And then you had felt his hand between your thighs, fingers pressing deep into your clothed skin until one finger curled against your covered cunt. You could still feel his fingertip press against your sensitive bud. The touch hadn’t lasted long, for you’d shot up instantly and his hand had been back by his side almost just as fast. But you were certain it had not been a dream.

And now you were scared of him. Frightened, that if you were to go to sleep, he might take you in it. That he might claim your body as his own when you could not fight back.

Anxiety ate you, piece by piece until it wrecked your nerves and made you shiver with fearful anticipation. Any sound would trigger a panicked reaction and would have you sit up and open your eyes. Because he is here again, isn’t he? Even when he wasn’t. You were constantly alert, ready to shy away from any advances he might try to make.

And so, you blinked up at him fearfully while you wondered what he would be doing next. He’d commented on your lack of sleep the past few times he’d been down there, annoyed that he couldn’t watch you sleep like he had the others. You didn’t know how many had been here before you, only that he somehow seemed to enjoy observing them when they weren’t awake.

Creep, you thought. You wondered if he got off of it. And why he couldn’t just enjoy you while you were awake?

Perhaps that had been a wrong thought to have, because what he said next made shivers run down your spine.

“I know just the thing.” Just the thing for what? To make you sleepy? You wondered for a moment if he referred to some kind of drug, or if he might just knock you out with one of his fists. But he did neither.

He cocked his head to the side, the mask’s chin pointed at his right shoulder. He was observing you, his stance pensively. What was he thinking? But then you regretted that thought when the man came over to you, coming closer than he had in the past few days.

“An ancient old medicine,” he said, voice low and gruff, while he started to unbuckle his belt. And that was the moment you realized what he might be implying. What he might want from you. He probably had wanted this all along.

Your eyes grew wide with fear as you tried to crawl back on the mattress until your back hit the wall and you couldn’t back away any further. “It has proven to be very effective over time,” his husky voice sounded. Then a chuckle emerged from behind the mask as he pushed his pants and underpants down to reveal an achingly hard cock, pre-cum dripping from the tip and glistening in the faint light that fell in from the window above.

The belt was wrapped around his right fist, the end of it dangling in front of you.

You tried to shield your eyes with your hands. “Please,” you begged when you noticed he’d stepped even closer and completely ignored the fact that you had tried to get away. “No, please,” his hand was upon your wrist, yanking it away to uncover your eyes. You looked up at him, tears glistening in your eyes, while you pleaded for him to spare you. “I’ll go to sleep,” you said, voice choked by tears. “Please, I’ll be good. I’ll go to sleep. You don’t need to do this.”

He paused in his actions and there was that tilt of his head again as he studied you through the hole-eyes of the mask. The belt dropped from his hand and fell to the basement floor with a clank.

His right hand came up to your cheek and you flinched, afraid he might slap you there. But his touch was gentle, his palm lightly upon your skin. You opened your eyes again to look up at him mistrustingly and wished you could tell what kind of expression he held behind that darned mask he was wearing.

You couldn’t tell. All you knew was that he was taking his time, standing there, only inches away from you. He was gently caressing your cheek, his thumb tracing circles. The motion was soothing as if he was trying to comfort you. It worked as well, for you felt your shoulders relax somewhat, despite your brain being on full alert.

His other hand was holding his cock. The aching hard member twitched in his grip as a new spurt of pre-cum droplets emerged from the tip. You tried not to look at it, which was hard as his shaft was on eye-level with you, ready to be brought to your lips.

Would he do it? You wondered how far he would go. He hadn’t touched you before like this. He’d been mostly at a distance. Except for that one time. But it figured he would eventually succumb to these primal desires. Why else had he taken you? If it had been just to kill then he would have done so already. Why keep you alive if not for this?

You whimpered, slightly trembling under his caress. A low hum escaped the masked man, then he stood straight again and you saw him move his upper body. The vest he was wearing fell open, his naked stomach showed. Round, you thought, pudgy. Yet, the muscles that showed on his chest betrayed your kidnapper was a man of strength. A strength that was confirmed almost instantly when he suddenly reached for you.

You felt your head being yanked towards him, and his shaft that had been angled at your lips was now pressed against them, begging you to spread them wide. He kept pushing, roughly, until the meat was between your lips and the head of his cock was upon your tongue. The salty taste of flesh mixed with the bitterness of the pre-cum filled your mouth and you hollowed your cheeks. And then he started to thrust.

You looked up at him, pleading silently for his mercy. But at the sight of your tear-stained eyes, his thrusts grew even fiercer and his grip on your head even tighter. You were left with no alternative but to suck, accepting his cock deep inside your throat.

Low, deep rumbles came from the depth of his chest when you started to cooperate. He was pleased, humming and moaning ‘oh yeah’ and ‘just like that’. Sounds that vibrated through his cock until you felt them in your mouth.

Dirty, your mind provided you while he moved you up and down his shaft. The salty and bitter taste of him filled you completely. The curly hairs around his manhood pressed into your nostrils when he pushed your head forward, blocking off your chance to breathe. You sputtered around him, feeling the tip at the back of your throat, feeling his cock spasm between your lips.

You gurgled and sputtered, trying not to choke. A moment of respite when he slid your head back again and his cock nearly left your lips, but then he pushed forward again until his hips met your cheek and your nose was nestled deep within his pubic hair.

You gasped and tried to claw at his hips, but all you felt was how he kept a tight grip on your head and stilled his movements, leaving his cock deep between your lips, the head pushing the back of your throat.

The process repeated itself a few more times, until his cock finally slipped from your lips and you were left gasping for air. A trail of sperm and saliva dripped from your lips and ran down your chin. You moved your hand up to wipe it away, but he caught your wrist before you could get there.

Staring up at him with wide eyes, you heard a chuckle derive from behind the mask. “Na-ah,” the man tusked, his low gravelly voice making something twist deep inside you. A longing, a tingle that had you squeezing your legs together. A foreboding feeling washed over you, that he wasn’t finished just yet. That this was only the beginning.

“Leave it there,” the man hummed. The pause that followed felt too long, making you writhe uncomfortably while you waited for him to either speak or let go of your hand. In the end, he did both, nearly at the same time. “I think I will have to cover your face in a layer of my spunk next time,” there was that rasp again. You had heard it before, how he could slide from a normal, almost gentle tone, into a demonic rasp that was usually used when he was angry and full of curses. “Paint your face a nice white with my cum,” he clicked his tongue behind the mask. His voice became lighter again.

“But for now, there’s another way I have in mind to tire you.”

You shivered at the promise and tried to back away again. The man in front of you got hold of his throbbing cock, wrapping his left hand around it. You saw how his fingers curled around the glistening shaft, still covered in your saliva, and watched how the veins throbbed when he moved his hand up and down at a firm but gentle pace. The ring on his finger glinted in the weak light, skin rippling as he pumped his hand up and down his throbbing cock. Still hard. Balls underneath heavy with cum.

“Undress, sweetie,” he cooed, voice soft like honey. But when you refused to do as he said, his tone turned drier and more menacing again.

What happened next was much of a blur. He made you undress for him, tweak your nipples for him, rub your hands up and down your bare chest for him while he watched and laughed and licked his tongue past his teeth at the show. His hand never ceased moving up and down slowly, hardening himself underneath his touch until he thought it was enough.

“Spread your legs, sweetheart,” it took only one command and you were back on your back on the mattress. Your bare back scrubbed along the mold. Even covered in the dark shade of the mask, you could see the glistening of his eyes, pupils wide. You hesitatingly spread your legs for him.

He crawled over you, cock still in his hand, and pressed your legs apart to fit himself in between. His right hand was on your thigh, palm pressed against your soft skin. His left hand guided his cock to your quivering cunt until you felt the head kiss your labia. A wet feeling against your pussy lips and you realized he was smearing his pre-cum at your entrance, deliberately rubbing the head of his cock up and down your entrance while some of the pre-cum came seeping out.

Your fingers clawed at his shoulders and your lips parted in a gasp. “Please,” you begged, knowing it to be futile. Then he dipped in, just the head. Careful fingers pressed the tip in. Not enough to hurt yet, just enough to tease.

He paused in his actions just to bend down, his hair brushed against your cheek as he whispered near your face. “That’s my good girl.”

Then he thrust forth without mercy.

You were speared upon his cock that night, in the basement that was your prison. He left you sore and tired as he forced orgasm after orgasm out of your trembling body beneath him.

He’d been right. You closed your eyes and fell into a dreamless slumber afterward, relieved when he finally rose from the bed and left you alone. You were too tired to notice when the Grabber returned for you in the midst of the night to get some more relief. Until you faintly awoke to wet sounds and the odd feeling of something thrusting deep inside you.

“Hush, pretty girl,” the low voice whispered in your ear, hips moving relentlessly while he kept pushing himself inside. One hand was on your breast, squeezing it tightly while he toyed with you. His other arm was around your waist, his knee between your legs as he held you from behind, your cunt squeezing down on his cock which was covered in your mixed juices.

“I’ll make you go to sleep soon, little one. Don’t you worry. I’ll make you sleep real deep.”

#Going real deep here #the grabber x reader #dark smut #grabber x you #albert shaw x reader drabble #drabble fill #prompt fill #insomnia reader dark fic

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chosok-amo · 6 months

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heart-shaped cloud

“ . . . you make me want to watch the sky, so I can search for heart-shaped clouds and then pray they make their way to you.”

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀You were lying on the bed in your dorm with your hands behind your head. In the silence of the night you stare out the window. The sky was bright with stars at that time. Which makes you happy. Oh, how you love the sky and everything related to it. It makes you feel calm every time you look at it, as classic as it sounds.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀You are so busy with the calm in the middle of the night that you forget the pain in your leg muscles. You were so excited about sparring with Megumi that you almost injured yourself. But it was worth it every time you deliberately gave in just so you could fall and lie on the ground with Megumi on top of you. You chuckled amusedly, blushing as you remembered your training with him on the field earlier. Enjoy every second you spend with him no matter how much pain it's gonna cause you to feel later.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀You sighed as your fantasies about Megumi were shattered when Shoko forced her way into your mind, remembering her chatter about your muscles which could get worse if you were still careless and didn't listen to what she said. With a heavy heart, you got up from your bed but your body quickly touched the mattress again.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀“Shit, shit, shit!” you cursed when you felt a cramp in your calf muscle. You were silent for a moment while massaging your calf slowly only to feel the pain every second. “Yeah, maybe she's right,” you muttered and finally agreed with what Shoko said. You let out an uneasy sigh when you realized you wouldn't be training with Megumi any time soon and Shoko refused to use her healing technique on you after you had intentionally injured yourself so many times.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀“I guess I'll ask that blindfold idiot,” you continued muttering.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ Then, slowly you get back up. Nod in satisfaction when the pain in your calf is less pronounced. You slowly stepped out of the room, towards the kitchen to make tea. On the way, you meet Yuji along with Toge, Panda and Nobara who are sitting watching TV in the gathering room. “Y/nnnn!” Yuji welcomes you with his friendliness.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀“Is your leg better?” Nobara asked which you answered with a shake of your head. “Not yet, I'll ask Gojo for help tomorrow,” you said. Nobara nodded, “Good, you have to be careful next time, you don't need to hurt yourself all the time just so you can be under Megumi,” she said while throwing you a teasing look.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀“Hey!”

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀“She's right, Y/n. If you want to be under Fushiguro so bad you could just ask him, I think he'll gladly let you,” Yuji continued, throwing you the same look as well. “Salmon!” Toge agreed— raising both hands and giving you a thumbs up. You rolled your eyes and groaned. “You guys are so annoying,” you groaned and chose to immediately walk away towards the kitchen. You could feel the heat gathering in your cheeks, leaving redness there.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀You took the glass and placed it on the counter before you boiled the water for your tea. While you were pensive while waiting for your water to boil, you saw Megumi walking towards the outside of the dormitory. “Megumi!” you call. But the green-eyed man ignored you and continued walking out. You frowned before turning to the clock hanging on the wall beside you. The needle shows 11 at night, almost midnight.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀Switching off the stove, you stepped out of the kitchen towards the direction where Megumi had gone. The cold wind gently hits your bare skin that is not covered by the fabric of your clothes, making you shiver a little when you are outside the dormitory. You can see Megumi sitting on the steps that lead to the field—alone.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀“Megumi?” You called out to him when you were near him. Surprised, Megumi turned towards the direction the voice came from only to find you standing not far from her while smiling sweetly. Just by looking at your sweet smile, Megumi felt her heart beat so fast that she quickly looked away. “What are you doing here?” he asked without looking at you. You sat me next to him, so close that your shoulders were touching—which made Megumi reflexively shift his body a little.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀Your shoulders are no longer touching but Megumi still can quite feel your warm body temperature. “I was about to make tea when I saw you leaving the dorm. I called you but you didn't seem to hear me,” you said. Hearing this, Megumi spontaneously turned to you. He cleared his throat after being a little surprised at how close your faces were. He slightly moved his face away before answering you, “Really? I don't think I heard."

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀“It's okay,” you smile.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀And silence.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀You two are busy staring at the expanse of sky in front of you. Megumi occasionally throws you glances out of the corner of her eyes—too shy to turn your head. So many stars in the sky but all he can see is you. Ever since he first saw you with Gojo Satoru, introducing you as a new student who would be his classmate, Megumi had his heart on his sleeve. You just have to say the magic words and Megumi will happily give his heart to you.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀You— the girl who loves the sky and everything in it, makes Megumi admire you so much. You make him want to keep looking at the sky, looking for the heart-shaped cloud and pray it will make its way to you. So that you know, the boy with the curse of 10 shadows wants to wrap his arms around your small body and hug you warmly. But he couldn't do anything other than pray that a miracle would come.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀Megumi sighed when he saw your body shaking slightly from the cold. He supported his body by placing his arms behind him. “Shouldn't you be resting? Your leg isn't even healing yet,” the man said—trying too hard not to sound worried. You shook your head slowly and threw a glance at Megumi who was already looking at you with a faint smile.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀“I'll be fine, gonna ask Gojo for his RTC later,” you answered.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀“Am I being too hard on you?”

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀You saw how Megumi's forehead furrowed and his eyes sharpened, he looked worried. “No Megumi, you're fine. After all, you just do what has to be done. “At least I don't have to train with the idiot Gojo,” you said, ending with a chuckle. Megumi mirrors you and looks back. “Yeah, he's the worst.”

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀He can't look at you for too long. His heart won't be able to because it's beating too fast and if that happens, he's worried you'll hear it. Right now he's not completely ready to accept your rejection—perhaps he never will be. You could call him a coward, but he felt that admiring you from afar was enough for him. Although sometimes every day it becomes more difficult for him. Especially when you two are practicing martial arts and Megumi manages to beat you, he has to beat you. So then you'll be under him, panting breath hitting his face, sweat dripping down your face, that's when he almost kisses you—every day.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀And silence.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀Again, he could see your body shivering from the cold. He was silent for a moment—fighting with his thoughts about what he was going to do, too afraid that he would make you uncomfortable. But he also couldn't see you sitting next to him and shivering. Slightly cursing you for wearing short-sleeved T-shirts and shorts at night.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀Megumi took off the jacket he was wearing and turned towards you. You were a little surprised when Megumi leaned closer to you—so close that you could feel her breath on your red cheeks. He draped the jacket he was wearing over your shoulders— adjusting it until he felt you were safe enough from the cold. His movements stopped when he realized your closeness. His green eyes looked deeply into yours and for a moment all you two did was stare at each other.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀You and him— turned your gaze towards each other's lips. Too eager but too afraid. Until Megumi got up the courage, he asked, “Can I kiss you?” Your eyes widened for a moment at his question. You looked into his eyes for any lack of seriousness but all you found was burning passion. Therefore, without answering, one of your hands held Megumi's cheek and you tilted your head—closer to his face until your noses touched each other.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀“Yes,” you mumbled against his lips.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀With both hands resting on the asphalt on either side of your body, Megumi closed his eyes and moved his lips. For a few moments he just remained silent, waiting until your lips were warm enough before he finally moved his lips. He kissed you softly and warmly. His lips moved slowly and romantically, making you feel as if you were floating into seventh heaven. Megumi tastes like coffee and mint, you love it.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀A soft moan escaped Megumi's mouth as you wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your fingers in his black hair. And with one movement Megumi turned back to his original position with you on his lap. He wrapped his arms around your waist and deepened the kiss. “God. You have no idea how long I've been waiting to kiss you,” he whispered between kisses. Hearing his words made you smile.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀“Kiss me all you want now,” you said.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀“God Y/n, you're driving me crazy,” Megumi muttered. When you were about to open your mouth to reply, Megumi took the opportunity to plunge his tongue into your mouth, intertwining with yours. For a moment you kissed under the stars in the night sky. Don't care about the cold that surrounds you. A few moments passed until you pulled your face slightly, trying to find your breath which seemed to have gone somewhere. Both of you were out of breath a little. Your foreheads pressed against each other, flushed cheeks, and you stared at each other.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀“I like you, Y/n. Since the first time I saw you coming from that door with Gojo,” he revealed. Still with his forehead pressed together, he stared at your lips which were slightly parted as a breath escaped them. You smiled sweetly, “I like you too, a lot. like insanely, a lot.” A smile came to Megumi's lips as he heard what you said.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀“God! you're so beautiful,” he whispered.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀He leaned down to kiss your jaw, then down your neck to your shoulder, and finally stopped at your neck. Give small kisses there. The two of you were too busy with your world to notice Gojo walking towards you. The man who was more than 190cm tall chuckled at what was far in front of him. “Like father like son,” he said smiling crookedly when he saw how Megumi kissed your neck. Gojo smiled like a father who was proud of the achievements of his son, Megumi.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀“Kids, I hope you're not planning to have sex in this public space, Yaga can see you,” he said when he was close enough for both of you to hear, breaking up the bubble that enveloped the two of you. Megumi groaned in annoyance and you quickly got up from Megumi's lap and stood up. Gojo chuckled amusedly when he saw Megumi who was looking at him with annoyance and sharpness. He also got up from his seat and stood beside you. Correct the position of the jacket that hugs your body.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀“We're not that stupid, you know,” said Megumi. Gojo, who was standing at the bottom of the stairs with his hands in his pockets, shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows how crazy kids these days are,” he said. You rolled your eyes at your annoying teacher's behaviour. “You would never know because you're old and lonely. You never even had a girlfriend,” you mocked the man who was much older than you. Hearing what you said, Gojo frowned.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀“Hey! There's plenty of girls waiting to be my girlfriend right now, I just have to point my finger and bam!—”

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀You looked right and left as if looking for something making the two men near you frown in confusion. “What are you doing, brat?” Gojo asked. “Oh? just looking for that plenty of girls you just mentioned. Oh, wait? Yeah right, there's nothing 'cause you're gay," you say. Megumi chuckled at your words before he put his arm around your shoulders and took you away from Gojo Satoru who now looked annoyed. “Let's go, don't mind him. He is just lonely,” said Megumi. Hearing the statement from the child he was looking after, Gojo made a sound of disapproval. “Hey, I'm not lonely. And I'm your teacher, have some manners!” he said.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀“Yeah? like you have one,” you shouted.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀Gojo shook his head and put his hands on his hips. “Don't forget to use a condom, I'm not ready to be a grandfather!” he shouted, choosing not to pay attention to your last words. “Get a girlfriend first!” you shouted back before finally you and Megumi disappeared into the dormitory building.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀“I swear kids these days..” he muttered.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀Megumi led you towards your dorm room with her arm still around your shoulder. Your steps stopped when you were in front of the door. “Just get some rest, okay? Don't train for a while until your legs get better, tomorrow I'll tell Gojo," said Megumi. His large hand stroked your head gently. You nodded, “Okay, I will.”

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀Megumi nodded, “I'll go back to my room.”

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀When Megumi was about to turn around, her steps stopped when she felt your hand holding her shirt. He looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “Wanna sleep with me? Not sex, just cuddle.. or something,” you said and looked away. The heat spread to your cheeks again. And just like that, you and Megumi were on your bed. The blanket covered both of you with your head on his chest and you wrapped your arms around his waist. Megumi's hands wrapped around your body as she rubbed your back gently.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ “Good night, Megumi,” you whispered, slowly starting to fall asleep.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ “Good night, pretty,” he mumbled softly, kissing your head.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀

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hiskillingjar · 10 months

Text

'You're his pet now.'

Relationship: Ren Hana/Reader, Fox/Reader Rating: Explicit Contains: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Injury Recovery, Power Imbalance, Coercion Length: Multi-chaptered, 2600+ words

Summary: After surviving hell, how do you navigate your relationship with the Devil?

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48528574

“Ngh…ah.”

You were supposed to be dead. That much you knew.

The second you woke up, the only thing that you could initially register was just how much your body hurt. It felt like you had been hit by a truck or trampled by a crowd or a pack of animals.

The next thing you registered, when you lurched forward and let out a long, pained groan, almost doubling up on yourself as your bandaged abdomen started to ache and twist, was that you were leaning up on a bed.

You weren’t on a thin mattress on the ground, nor were you in your cell or the dreaded 'filming room’.

You were on a normal bed, in a normal room.

Well, maybe not normal.

It looked a little like a hospital room, albeit a fancy one, when you blinked your heavy eye(s), peering around. A private suite with beige walls and tasteful decorations adorning them, pine furniture, a bedside table for get-well-soon cards and flowers. Your sheets were white and crisp and clean, and when you moved your arm, you could see a needle was pressed and taped inside, providing you with a drip feed. You could also feel a tube in your nose when you reached up to touch your face.

When you moved your other arm, though, you found it bound down to the side of the hospital bed. But the bindings were loose and made of expensive leather and fur that felt soft and soothing against your skin that had been rubbed raw by chains and metal.

Emphasising that they were there to restrain you, but not to hurt you.

When you gave the cuffs another tug, a thick chain rattled against the metal and an intense pain shot across your left shoulder, making you take in a reflexive hiss and squeeze your eye(s) shut.

The marred socket was still irritating and itchy, despite how well (you guessed) it was healing from the thick wadding that now covered it, covering half your face.

“You’re awake.”

You flinched at the sudden and familiar sound of...Fox, sitting on the other side of the room next to the closest window. He balanced an espresso cup on his knee and his legs crossed tight, sparing barely a glance at you as he looked out at the view outside.

It was nighttime. How long has he been waiting for you to wake up?

"Hope you've been enjoying your little nap." He continued, his tone dry but lighthearted like he was talking to a neighbour or a colleague, as he took a quick sip from his cup, keeping his eyes on the night skyline outside. A city. "I can see the nurses have taken good care of you."

"Fox?" You mumbled warily as you sat up a little more on your best, pressing your free hand to your abdomen, trying to soothe the pain as the cuffs were pulled taught and tight against your other wrist. "Where...where am I?"

"Now that's a good question," He said with a thoughtful hum, finally looking over at you with more interest, one of his thick brows raising and wrinkling his forehead in a subtle way (a handsome way).

He looked good, all things considered. He looked normal.

He was dressed nicely, in a high-neck sweater and a well-pressed grey suit, his hair combed back and his ears standing high to attention. He looked like a man who had just walked straight out of a business meeting, handsome, in control, and a little intimidating to those that opposed him.

You had to wonder how many other businessmen made their livings in snuff porn, though.

Probably a few.

"How about you tell me how much you remember?" He then asked around the rim of the espresso cup as he took another sip, his tail swishing to and fro behind him.

Your brow furrowed pensively as you tried to remember...well, anything.

You remembered the auction, the haze of colours, the bickering voices debating your worth, the burning stamp of red and blue (the occasional flicker of green) inside your lids. You remembered the announcer, his cheerful voice, and you remembered begging him to take you instead, to spare you from whatever these...people had planned for you.

You remembered the cameras and the screens, the haze of white imprinted that had still soaked into your vision. You remembered the heckling from an unseen audience that cheered and begged for your blood, your suffering.

You remembered the twisting ache of chains and bondage. You remembered your eye (or lack thereof), you remembered the demeaning costumes, you remembered the pain. You remembered the cell you were kept in and you remembered being so drugged up on painkillers most of the time, you could barely remember your name.

But you didn't remember why your abdomen was throbbing with agony or why every inch of your body was aching, and you didn't remember how you got here, or why you were still even alive.

Fox looked at your face, a light smile growing across his own (dimpling his deep smile lines and the markings on his cheeks) at the sight of your confusion and uncertainty.

"Do you remember anything?" He asked with a light chuckle after a few long moments, his ears flattening just a little on top of his head as he tilted his head. "Or is it all a blur?" He tutted softly with a shake of his head as his ears pointed again. “Poor dear. What’s gotten you so… lost?”

His voice turned a touch condescending and mocking as he spoke those last few words, a subtle tone of amusement and pleasure behind them which made your aching stomach twist.

"Why am I still alive?" You said softly as you leaned up more, sitting up against the recline of the bed. "Why are we in a normal hospital? Why am I not in my cell?"

He was quiet for a moment, taking another drink from his cup, savouring the taste with an indulgent roll of his shoulders as he ran his tongue over his fangs in a slow and considered way. He then lowered the cup back down to his knee, with a light clatter of porcelain.

"You really don't remember, hm?" He said dryly, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, his gaze golden and glittering with cruel amusement . You shook your head. "Well, what do you remember last? The auction, perhaps?"

"Uh…yeah, yeah, I remember that just fine." You said, a frown tightening the lines of your face (you wouldn't be surprised if you had more, you felt like you had aged decades). "I remember asking...begging, really, for you to take me instead of selling me to the others." You grimaced as you felt a sudden flare of pain in your shoulder, reaching up to idly knead at it and finding a thick swath of bandages stuck to your skin which spanned across your shoulder and down your bank. "It was...kind of a dumb choice, in hindsight."

"Well, that's one way of describing it." He continued, breathing out a short (practised) chuckle through his nose as a sharp smirk spread across his features, his fangs hooking over his lips the more he spoke. "But, and maybe I’m biased…I'd say it was probably the right choice." He then said, standing to his feet and pacing to the side of your bed, one hand in his pocket, his clawed thumb hooked around the fabric. "Wouldn't you agree?"

You weren’t too sure if you should agree or not, but he’d gotten you to a hospital and made sure you weren’t dead. What was the point in getting on his nerves now?

"I guess," You said with a shrug (despite your throbbing shoulder), letting your unrestrained arm drop back down to your side. The needle was starting to throb too, like you needed any more pain. "I'm alive, that's true...though I still don't really know why." You leaned back further against the hospital bed (the best you could), letting your head loll back on the cushions and considering him as he stepped closer. "You were going to kill me. I was sure of it."

"And yet, here you are!" He stood at the side of your bed, a wide and playful grin on my face as he set his coffee cup on the bedside table. “You’re alive, you’re healing, you're even relatively healthy, if your nurses are to be trusted. How lucky are you!”

Well, he was certainly right about that. Regardless of how much pain you were in, regardless of how much your body was throbbing and struggling just to keep you upright, you were healing.

He was making sure you were healing.

You swallowed hard, wondering why he was so determined for you to heal.

"I'm not going to.” He then said with a considered sigh. “Kill you, that is." You could see a little twinkle of mirth in his golden eyes as his head tilted again, his tail swishing behind him as he looked down on you. "What do you think that means, then? What does that mean to you?" He then asked, his voice playful and almost teasing, like he was telling you a good joke.

"I don't really know," You said, giving your cuff a little tug as you looked up at him with your good eye. “I…really don’t.”

"Well, since you’re so lost,” He grinned, his smile sharp and threatening (though you’re not sure he intended it that way). “Let me enlighten you." He perched himself on the side of your bed, resting a hand on your knee (underneath your blankets), the wide grin not leaving his face as he looked at you intently, his eyes bright and hungry . "It means… I like you too much to kill you. "

You took in a sharp gasp, your eye(s) widening in shock once he assured you of the thing you were so scared of, so unsure of, (so secretly wanting of).

"Is that a good enough reason for you?" He then said softly.

You could feel his warm breath across the side of your neck as he leaned a little closer to you, looking at you intently, his voice dripping, oozing with playful teasing. The touch on your knee tightened just a little.

"You...you like me?" You murmured quietly, so quiet that you were sure that only the two of you could hear it.

"Oh, darling ," He crooned softly as his grin eased just a touch into a smirk, his other hand reaching up to your chin to gently direct your gaze to his own, his eyes softening with fondness and...indisputable lust. "I adore you."

You swallowed a little tightly as he got closer to you, so close you could see the dimples of his smile lines, the creases around and under his eyes, and the freckles that dotted his cheeks.

You weren’t especially surprised by his admission.

It did make sense, in hindsight, in some twisted kind of way.

He had been quite sweet to you during the streams despite everything, taking the time to praise you when you behaved, to tend to your wounds, to assure you of his intentions and to make sure you were okay after all was said and done.

Maybe he did like you.

That didn't stop you from feeling nervous, though.

"And more than that..." He continued, his tail swaying just a little more (maybe it was even wagging…did foxes wag their tails?) “I want to keep playing with you , I want to make you beg for more, I want to own you." He leaned in a little bit closer, whispering in your ear softly, your faces inches apart as his soft, unruly hairs wisped against your cheek "I want to make you mine...and I always get what I want."

You were sure of that.

There were a few moments of heavy quiet, his breathing slow as he pulled away from you just a touch, enough that you could see his face, the soft flush to his cheeks, the mischievous, almost boy-ish twinkle in his eyes.

"So, what would your response be to that, then?" He whispered softly, his breath warm against your neck. "Do you want to be mine?"

"I mean…do I have much of a choice?" You asked quietly, though the warmth of his voice against your skin was…kind of nice and enough to make you shiver with a subdued rendition of pleasure.

"Not really, no," He said with a chuckle and a shake of his head, his expression fond and patient, almost like he had expected you to ask a question like that. "Either you become mine, or..."

Or.

You swallowed again.

He took another quiet moment to consider your expression, your stiff posture, the nervousness in your eyes, as if he was waiting for an answer, before he let out another little chuckle, shrugging his shoulders as he let go of your chin and gave you two light taps on the cheek.

You flinched, your face absolutely burning at the condescending little gesture. “Think about it!” He said easily, casually, like he was negotiating a business deal and not coercing you into a never-ending dynamic of ownership and servitude. He smiled and stood to his feet, letting go of your knee and giving his blazer a little tug to fix it into place. “You have plenty of time to, after all. And who knows?” He held his arms out in a wide gesture of casual friendliness. “You might come to like the idea!”

You didn’t say anything. Your cheeks were still blazing from the light taps.

“Well, get some rest, sweetie,” He then said, letting his arms drop to his sides with a quirked grin, showing you his fangs (again, you weren't sure if the threatening gesture was entirely on purpose). “I want you strong and healthy, after all! I’ll see you later.”

“Wait!” You said quickly, sitting forward and forcing the cuff on your wrist to pull tightly, almost digging into your skin as your arm was jerked back painfully. “Y-You’re going to leave me here? All on my own?”

“Mmhmm,” He nodded, putting his hands in his pockets and raising his brows at the quickness of your question, as if he was surprised that this was what you were concerned about. “There’s work to be done, after all. But I’ll visit you again soon, and your nurses will take great care of you.”

You sat back against the bed with a soft sound of defeat, looking down at your lap.

“Right, okay…” You murmured, fiddling with your fingers (the best you could with the cuff so tight). “...How soon?”

You flinched again when Fox let out a string of barking laughs, real and loud and authentic , his shoulders shaking with amusement and his tail wagging as he did his best to cover his amusement with his hands.

“Oh! Oh my, oh darling,” He said through his giggles, leaning towards you again, his hands on the bed and his smiling face near yours. “That is absolutely precious, it really is! You’re so needy already,” He grinned then and pressed his nose into your hair, like a quick affectionate nuzzle. It’s almost a kiss and it almost makes your heart race. “And oh-so-sweet. We’re going to have such a good time together, I can already tell.”

You didn’t say anything, but your flushing face said more than enough for him.

“Rest up. And try not to miss me too much, okay?~ ❤”

#the price of flesh #fox tpof #ren hana #ren hana x reader #ren x mc #fox x reader #fox x mc #ray's fics #i'm insaneeeeeee mental asylummmmmm #i wanna go full rebecca the yellow wallpaper with fox i'm sorryyyyyy

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toxicanonymity · 1 year

Text

The Barbecue. Silence can never be bought, only rented (pt. 5 of 6)

5k / dbf!Joel x f!Reader, 18+ / pt 1 / master list

The long-awaited HOG (hot old guy) barbecue. Joel watches in the reflection of the window as you get out of the pool and grab a towel. You follow him inside. "Don't tell me that made you jealous," you say. "Turned me on," he responds, and you can tell.

NEXT: part 6 / Story Master List

WARNINGS/NOTES: NSFW 18+ dry humping, vaginal fingering, jacking off, brief oral (M receiving), semi-public-ish, swallowing, alcohol, irresponsible cook-out behavior, DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE, some angst, reader wears Joel's shirt, lack of PIV, blue balls. Do not read the dad as your actual dad!

Tags - This story: @jbcalway @daddy-din @angelmenace @silkiers @axshadows @legs0pen4dilfs @fan-fiction-floozy @grnherbs @icuminurbutt @lokanda @not-a-unique-snowflakewflake89 @likeanimagepassingby2 @witchy-jadda @mxtokko @missannwinchester @cannolighost @anxiousankylosaurus @montenegroisr @97cityy @lillyrob @billyloomiswhore4 @cloudroomblog @boysddontcry @blackvelveteen1339 @twsssmlmaa @call-me-doll-facee @str84pedro

All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea. @evyiione. ty @dark-scape for the support as usual.

Lmk if i missed you. Idk why some are buggy.

You don’t hear from Joel for days. The first day, you’re a mess of feelings, pinballing between numb and smitten.

You feel like you don't really know anyone in your life. The people you thought were closest are perfect strangers. You don't trust anyone. Your roommate is spending all her time with that friend of Chad’s. Your friend from home is on a trip overseas and won’t be back until the day after Independence Day. You feel like you don’t have anyone to hang out with, talk to, or even sit in silence with. You’re lonely and pensive.

On the other end of the spectrum, your mind (and body) frequently drift to that long-awaited kiss, and everything that happened in that hotel suite. You almost feel like if you can sleep with Joel, everything will be right in the world, even when it’s all wrong. Even when he’s part of what’s wrong. You know it’s illogical.

One afternoon, for a change of scenery, you go to the bookstore with the cafe where you work. Maybe you’re clinging to the last bit of familiarity that’s left. On the bulletin board at the entrance, there’s a flyer for Chad's band playing at your favorite spot. That must be why he originally came by the cafe the other day.

While you’re in the middle of the bookstore, you get a text from Joel and your face burns when you open it. It’s a disappearing dick pic. Not just his dick. It’s a blow job POV including his dick. “Your souvenir,” he says, like that’s all that happened. Your blood boils but also rushes to your loins.

That’s all he has to say to you? You respond, “really?” He’s trying to act like that whole car ride never happened.

“Wanna talk about it?” he responds. It’s nice that he offers, and your heart probably swells a little too much at the basic decency, but you’re actually not sure you want to talk about it. You’re almost afraid to find out more. You already wish you could rewind and live in blissful ignorance.

After an exhausting day of stewing and sulking, you decide to go to Chad’s show. It feels pathetic, but who cares? The way you see it, you don’t have anything to lose. Chad can’t hurt you anymore. It’s hard to imagine anyone who could. You text Chad to let him know you’re coming. He doesn’t text you back.

When you get to the venue, you don’t see anyone you know, at first. There’s still another band to play before them, so they should be hanging out near the merch table and you make your way over there. Finally, you see their drummer behind the cash box, then you see Chad’s hair from the back. The drummer says something to Chad, then Chad looks over at you. Your stomach turns when you see his face. You can only see half of it, but there’s a gauze bandage across his eyebrow and upper cheekbone. His mouth is scabbed over. Joel. Chad makes himself scarce as soon as he sees you.

You finally respond to Joel, “not really.” And that’s that. But you don’t know how you’re going to face him or your dad when you go home for the holiday.

On Independence Day, you’re so anxious that you drive right past the turn onto Joel’s street. You don’t forget, you just decide not to turn. You go to your friend’s house, even though you know she isn’t there. It’s a familiar place to park your car and try to calm yourself down. You sit there for almost an hour doing nothing but scrolling tumblr and listening to music.

When you don’t arrive at the barbecue, your dad and Joel separately call you and you don’t answer either of them. Based on your degree of dread with each respective call, you realize your dad is the one you least want to see. You’re not really harboring much negativity toward Joel at this point.

Frank texts you and you finally take a deep breath and decide to show up. Your plan is to detach as much as possible and let yourself leave as soon as you’re uncomfortable.

You pull up to Joel’s house wearing a bikini and the flannel with a change of clothes in your Billy Loomis tote. Pretty much everyone is already at Joel’s house. Tommy and Maria, Bill and Frank, your dad and stepmother, a couple of Joel’s neighbors, and two of your dad’s work friends, rounding out the requisite hot old guys (HOGs), according to your friend, at least. One of the HOGs, Steve, always looks at you like a piece of meat. You used to think he was just an old creep, but now he strikes you as a bit of a DILF.

A light breeze carries the smell of propane and pork butt as you approach the pool gate. Only Frank is in the pool. You’ll probably hang out with him the whole time. Joel is at the grill in swim trunks and t-shirt, talking to one of your father’s work friends. He doesn't even look up when you open the gate. His swim trunks sure do show a lot of thigh.

Your stepmother is all over your dad. You pry him off with a hug out of spite and to face your fears. Then, you go to the grill and hug Joel from the side. It’s way too hot to stand there long.

“There she is,” Tommy announces on the other side of the grill. He’s talking to a guy you don’t recognize who turns around and does a double-take.

“This is Jesse, he works with your dad.”

He extends his hand and says “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Hmm, that sounds ominous." You can imagine being very attracted to Jesse even a week ago, but suddenly you don't have interest in anyone under 40.

"Well I heard you like to swim, at least. I didn't wanna swim alone," Jesse says.

Frank has a tray at the side of the pool with a glass of wine and his phone on it. He puts his glass of wine down when you walk up.

"Thank God, I've been drinking by myself," he says.

"And what kind of pairing is this for your pork butt?" you tease him as you sit down on the edge and put your feet in. Bill just barely raises his glass to wave at you. He's sitting alone under the shade of an umbrella, wearing khakis and a button-down shirt.

"Hey I think I have this shirt," Frank says, and takes the flannel between his thumb and finger. He studies it contemplatively for a moment. You catch up with Frank for a while.

You call over to the grill, "Joel are you gonna swim?"

"I'm on butt duty," he says.

Frank gives you an inquisitive look then asks if you're gonna get in.

You put your stuff down on a chair, take the shirt off, and start applying sunscreen. Joel watches as you rub it into your bikini top. Then you turn around to give him a side view as you rub it into the part of your butt cheeks hanging out of the bottoms.

Jesse moseys over within seconds and takes off his shirt. And well, damn. When Jesse raises his eyebrows at you, you realize you've been staring while lazily reaching over your shoulder and applying sunscreen. You were really just looking at his tattoos. Mostly.

“Nice ink,” you say.

"Need a hand?" He asks. Why not? You hand Jesse the sunscreen and watch his face as he squirts some into his palm. He bites his lip.

You turn around facing the pool – facing Joel – and stretch out one leg in front of you, keeping the other bent, while Jesse rubs lotion into your back. He doesn’t do it in an erotic way, but you curl your toes and subtly bite your lip as though it is. You let your legs fall open a bit.

You lower yourself into the pool and have small talk with Jesse for a minute, then Joel says your real name for once and it makes your eyes go wide. He doesn't say it that loud but you still hear him from across the pool. "Gimme a hand?" He asks.

Jesse stays in the pool and awkwardly makes small talk with Frank.

Joel watches in the reflection of his big living room windows as you lift yourself out of the pool and get a towel. You follow him inside to the small, secondary kitchen and he closes the door behind you..

He pins you up against the counter, already aroused, and further hardens against your wet swimsuit, flooding you with desire from your core to your chest.

"Havin' fun?" He growls in your ear.

"Don't tell me that made you jealous."

"Turned me on," he says, low and horny.

He kisses your chin, then your neck. Your hands wrap around him and grab his ass, pulling him into you harder with your own soft grunt.

He slips his hand under the damp cup of your bikini top, his fingers curving around the side of your breast, thumb resting at your cleavage. His warm palm pushes your cold, hard nipple as he firmly cradles your breast, his hand applying slow pressure in rhythm with his hips. Your knees are weak. You're dripping, not just from the pool.

He wraps his arms around you and slides his warm hands into the sides of your swimsuit bottom, grabbing hold of your cold ass cheeks. He groans, "God almighty.”

He kneads your ass, pulling you into him and his rock-hard length. He kisses your neck and grinds himself into you. The feeling of his warm, thick rod slowly rutting against your clit drives you mad. You couldn’t get any wetter. If you don't have this man inside you soon, you might actually die. You reach into his shorts and use your other hand to try to take them down. He doesn't stop you.

But there’s a knock at the door. Good Lord. You know who it's going to be.

Joel puts his dick away and removes a big pan of coleslaw from the fridge. He hands you the coleslaw while you open the door.

"Am I interrupting anything?" She asks.

"No," You say, then cock your head and add "Am I?" You hold eye contact for several seconds, then hand her the cole slaw and ask, "don't you and Dad have some catching up to do?"

Your stepmother takes the coleslaw outside.

You close the door behind her. “Basement?,” you ask, and start toward the pantry at the back of the space. There’s a hidden staircase that opens into the movie theater downstairs.

Joel groans and rubs his beard. “Later,” Joel says with a sigh. “We better go back out.”

You scoff. “Really?”

“Go on back outside.” He opens the door to the main kitchen.

When you get back to the pool, Jesse's already gone, talking to your dad. When you get back in, Frank says, "You little minx." He's got Instagram pulled up on his phone and shows you a picture from several years ago of Joel and him together, both wearing the shirt you arrived in. "Tell me everything."

Your face gets hot. “Seems to be a popular shirt,” you say.

"No," Frank says. "Shirt's just the kicker. There's something about the way you say each other's names. They sound like a secret." Frank is good at reading people.

"What, you think I fucked him? I didn't." At least you don't have to lie about that.

"Maybe not yet," he scoffs. Frank looks behind you and covers his mouth, then says “Look at his shirt." Yeah, Joel’s shirt has just the right wet spots. In theory, they could've been from a hug. It basically was a hug.

"Ever heard of a hug?" you say.

Frank raises his eyebrows then holds up his glass of wine and "accidentally" clinks his wedding ring on it before downing the rest. Bill hears it and comes over with the bottle. Frank gives him a look with the slightest nod across the pool, like he can't even wait a couple hours to share his new gossip. Bill's eyes dart over to Joel, then meet Frank's eyes again. As usual, no reaction is visible on Bill's face, aside from a twinkle in his eye. "Everything to your liking, sir?" he asks Frank.

Frank smiles, "Come on, at least dip your feet," but Bill leaves. Just as well, Frank's not done prodding you.

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me," Frank shrugs. "But I know you want to. . . and my lips are sealed. . ."

Frank is one of the most trustworthy people you know, so you don't worry about him spilling it. You just don’t feel like saying it out loud and putting words to it. Once it exists in the air, it’s something that can be broken. Something that can fall apart.

You panic and tell Frank about Joel and your stepmother instead. You claim you're just keeping Joel close for now while you decide what to do. You leave out any details about what close means.

The initial look on his face is horror, then Frank looks like he's going to cry. "Are you okay?"

"Chill," you say, looking around nervously. "Jesus, how much wine have you had?"

"Sorry, I just. I'm sorry. I know it's hard. That's all." He hugs you, and over Frank’s shoulder, you see Joel looking across the pool with his brow furrowed even more than usual.

"Well, don't forget my dad cheated on my mom with her, so, whatever," you say.

"Well, exactly. That's why I worry-"

Your face tells him to stop, so he changes the subject. "So what about that guy from the band, is that still a thing?"

You sigh. "Chad? No. Nothing juicy, just no."

"Got it," he says and you know you can trust him not to bring it up again. He follows your eyes back to Joel. You’re not off the hook, but at least you don’t have to talk about it.

The actual meal is relatively uneventful. It’s hard to be around your father right now. Deep down, you knew there were secrets. You knew he wasn’t the most upstanding man. You never fully trusted him after what he did to your mom. But at this point, he feels like a stranger. You’re almost glad his wife is cheating on him.

Steve, the hotter of your dad’s non-Joel friends, tries hitting on you. Asks if you like to party. Says he bets you get pretty wild after a few drinks. Pressures you to do shots with him. Why not, you think. You do one shot, but make Joel join in.

“Bad fuckin’ influence over here,” Joel says and gives Steve a slap on the back. Steve tries to egg you on to do more, but you don’t and neither does Joel.

"That's why we call him Mr. One Shot," Jesse says. laughing at his own joke.

Joel bristles at the nickname and crosses his arms, jamming his hands under his ungodly biceps.

Steve lowers his voice and asks Joel, "How many shots in Uvalde?" Joel doesn’t answer.

"One," Jesse says. "Miller’s too modest, you're embarrassing him," he laughs.

Joel tenses. "Give it a rest, Jesse. Have some discretion."

Jesse looks at your end of the table and swallows. “Right”

Your stepmother abruptly changes the subject. She asks Jesse how old he is and why she hasn’t seen him before. She’s drunk, and every time she looks at Jesse, she looks like she could eat him alive.

Your dad elbows Jesse. “I think my wife likes you,” he says with a wink. It’s awkward.

Joel’s face is a little pink from the sun, and it looks good on him. He’s looking at your face, but not making eye contact. He seems to be in a trance. You kind of feel like you should still be mad at him, but for some reason, you’re not. And you’re not going to deprive yourself out of spite. You can feel Frank noticing every detail of this.

Bill pours the last of a bottle of wine, and you volunteer to go to the wine cellar. Bill says they’ve had enough. Frank protests that he wants one more glass. He asks you for a German Riesling, with a wink. You subtly shake your head at him, falsely denying what he knows you’re up to.

You stand in the wine cellar, enjoying the cool air, then sit on a cabinet that spans the whole back wall. It’s only a few minutes before you hear Joel’s flip flops echoing down the stairs, presumably with the pretext of helping you find the wine. He crosses the cellar without even glancing at the wine. “Leavin’ for the fireworks in 15,” he says.

He has that horny look in his eyes and there’s already a bulge in his swim trunks. The way his t-shirt stretches over his pecs and arms — God damn.

When Joel reaches you, his massive hands part your knees, then lightly stroke your bare thighs. His lips brush your temple as he says, “You’re gonna get me in trouble one of these days.”

“That’s the idea,” you say as his hands wrap around your back and he slides you closer to the edge of the cabinet. When your crotch comes to rest against his, an acute desire floods your breasts. You squeeze his sides with your thighs, then roll your hips into his arousal and hook your hands under his arms, bringing him closer.

You slide your hands down his back and into his swim trunks, feeling his ass and bringing the trunks down. At the same time, you pull his hips into you and the swell of his hard-on against your clit makes you throb with need. You start to untie your bikini bottoms while he gropes a breast.

His mouth latches onto your neck. You let the front of the bottoms fall between your thighs, and tilt your hips in just the right way. He brings a hand between your legs and drags his flattened fingers up and down your slippery seam, then thrusts two of them inside and you moan.

“Fuuck,” he breathes.

You grab his cock. “Come on,” you beg as you tug him. He takes his hard length from you, holds it in his hand, and furrows his brow as he pumps his fingers slowly in and out of you. You try to read his face. He breathes heavily as he fingers you.

“Fuck me already,” you beg.

He looks down at himself and shakes his head no, but looks pained by his own answer.

“We both know it’s gonna happen,” you say.

He takes a deep breath as though to restrain himself. “Maybe so, but not tonight.”

He removes his fingers and brings the tip of his cock to your dripping entrance. A bolt of need shoots through you. He dwells there for a moment, takes another deep breath, then lays his stiff manhood vertically against your seam and pulls you tight against him. Then he grinds wetly against your aching clit, and your hips roll into him. Your head falls back and you moan. Your eyes are watery.

“God, Joel. . .this is . . .so dumb. . . just fu-”

You cut yourself off with a moan as he quickens his pace and grunts.

“Pleeease.”

“Shhhhhhh,” he says. You’re on the verge of coming and on the verge of tears. He holds you tight for leverage then goes jackhammer pace.

“Joel. . .”

“Come for me, sugar,” he pants. And not long after, you do. You clench around nothing, pulse against him, and you hear the echo of a breathy “Joel” you didn’t know you said.

He takes his cock in his hand again and looks at you with his pupils blown wide. His breath is ragged as he strokes himself. You find yourself slipping down off the cabinet. He doesn’t deserve what you’re about to do, you just want it for yourself, for whatever reason. He steps back and you squat down to face level with his cock. You hover your mouth over it, then wrap your lips around the head, and he comes with an echoing groan before you take any of the shaft into your mouth. His cum even tastes unattainable. Your eyes sting.

You fix your swimsuit and compose yourself.

“C’mere,” he says and hugs you. You don't really hug him back. You wipe a tear off your cheek. He tries to kiss you, but you’re too upset, and it would make you need him even worse than you already do.

Joel’s phone rings and he picks it up. “We’re comin’,” he says. “C’mon, let’s go.” He puts his arm around you but your demeanor doesn’t soften. You’ve had it with him depriving you.

“Ya know, maybe it’s a good night to talk to my dad,” you threaten as you near the top of the stairs.

“Damn, Trouble.” You can't tell if he’s impressed or judging you. “I said not tonight. I didn’t say never.”

That makes you think twice, at which point you realize what you just did. . .You tried to blackmail Joel for sex.

He adjusts his shorts. God, what’s become of this situation in just a few days - you try to put it out of your mind. You can beat yourself up over it later.

Joel stops you with his hand on yours before you open the door. “Look,” he continues. “Before you do anything stupid, there’s somethin’ I should tell you later.”

You lean against the wall and cross your arms. “Lemme guess, you and Dad are up to some shady, dangerous shit.”

“Nothin’ to do with that,” Joel says, lowering his voice.

“So you are.”

“Dangerous, yes, shady, no. We’re the good guys. Less you know ‘bout that, the better.”

“Why?”

“For your safety.”

You open the door to the living room and people are milling around deciding who’s riding with whom to the fireworks. Frank says, “hey, she didn’t get bricked in,” and hands you your bag from outside so you can change.

You and Joel ride with Bill and Frank to the fireworks. Frank keeps looking back and making small talk, but you and Joel mostly look out your opposite windows. You get to thinking about what Joel said. Not tonight. . . I didn’t say never. . . If he means that, maybe it’s worth the wait. Maybe you should hear him out, whatever he has to tell you.

During the fireworks, you come around a little. Joel playfully covers your ears, knowing you’ve always hated loud noises. When Bill and Frank drop you off at Joel’s afterwards, everyone is going their separate ways. You're relieved to see your dad and stepmother drive off before you have to say goodbye.

You start to go to your car, wanting to quit while you're ahead and not end up begging for it again. Joel stops you with gentle hands on your shoulders.

"Come in for a minute. Let's talk." A pit opens in your stomach.

The two of you go in through the pool gate. “Lemme make you a drink,” he says. That sounds even worse.

. . .

Joel hands you your favorite cocktail, then comes around the bar with his own drink to sit on the stool next to you. He takes a deep breath and puts his hand on your knee. He seems almost as nervous as you are. You can't remember seeing him nervous before.

“Yeah?” you prompt him.

He nods and takes a sip of his drink, then looks you in the eye. He puts his glass down, then takes yours out of your hand and puts it down on the counter too.

He swivels you toward each other. He looks like he's about to say something, then something changes in his eyes. He cradles your head with both hands, lays his lips into yours, and kisses you slow and hard, his tongue dipping into your mouth.

After a few seconds, you don’t even notice the taste of his whiskey, and his hands trace your body on their way down to your thighs. It’s intense but tender. You can’t help but feel like it’s some kind of a kiss goodbye. It scares you. He slides off the stool and gets in between your knees, tries to put your legs around him again, and that’s certainly where your legs want to go. But you want to hear what he has to say first.

You pull away and your hand drifts up to your lips. They buzz from his fervor. Your chest rises and falls.

“Spit it out,” you tell him.

“Right," he says. "I dunno if you’re still gonna wanna. . .” He downs his drink. It’s hard for you to imagine anything that would make you not want to fuck him anymore.

Finally, he begins. "Alright. . . ‘member what I said at lunch the other day, 'bout how monogamy isn’t for everyone?"

"Yeah." If this is all to say it’s not for him, it’s not hitting like much of a bombshell. Now, if he's going to tell you about other people he's fucking–when he's not even fucking you—that's a different story.

"Well," he clears his throat and looks away. "Your dad-"

You interrupt him with a loud sigh. "Just because he cheats doesn't mean you can sleep with his wife." You’re annoyed he’s even going there.

Joel holds up his hands as though to tell you to slow down. "Lemme finish. 'member what I said, how even in a marriage, some couples. . . ." He tries to make you fill in the blanks for yourself, but you won't. "Okay,” he shifts in his seat and begins to gesticulate vaguely. “Your dad and stepmother, they have an arrangement."

You feel the blood drain from your face. You think about the way she was eyeing Jesse. "Gross," you say.

He swallows and nods regretfully as you process this. He waits patiently as your heart races along with your thoughts, then you spill them out all at once. "I dunno why I would believe you. OR why you would believe her. Is that what she told you?” You laugh. “Whatever. Even if it's true, you aren't just any guy-"

"He knows," Joel says almost somberly. “About me.”

"Oh, he knows?" you laugh. He couldn't possibly. This is a terrible attempt at defusing the whole situation for himself. And yet, he looks like he feels bad for you.

"The first time, he talked me into it."

Deep breaths. "That's insane. That's. . .this is your new plan? Try to convince me my dad is some perverted cuckold?"

"No, not like that." He shivers in disgust. "Damn, Trouble. That's where your head went? No. . . when he. . .it was like. . . a swap.”

Your stomach turns.

“Okay, remember my date to Bill and Frank's wedding? The stripper?” Your heart sinks. “Your dad, um, really liked her, and-"

"I get the picture," you say, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose, recalling that your dad did in fact really like Joel's date. It was embarrassing.

"It was casual with me and. Shit, what was her name. Anyway, we were all stayin' in that hotel gettin' sloshed at the pool, an-"

You open your eyes and say, "Yeah, I got it, okay?" Then, you walk over to the sofa to sit down. He follows you. You feel sick to your stomach and don't want to hear another word about it. You cross your arms and slouch, sitting in silence for a moment.

He hesitantly puts his hand on your knee, sending a rush of blood to your loins. You don’t know what to feel.

"Did you really end it with her?" You ask.

He sighs. "More or less."

Now rage starts simmering in your chest.

"Told her I wanted a break.”

Unbelievable.

“That just — it lessens the blow. But trust me, I'm not doin' it again. Especially after how she’s been actin’."

You wish you could believe him.

You ask, "Why'd you let me think it was some huge secret?"

He's quiet for a moment.

"I don’t think your dad would appreciate you knowin’ about it," he says. "But I was gonna tell you anyway."

“Yeah, right.”

“‘Yeah. . . ‘member all those calls you ignored?”

“But then I got to thinkin’ about it, and I guess. . . .”

"What?”

"I," he pauses and sighs. "Shit, I dunno, it was hot. Really hot. The way you acted, thinkin' you had somethin' over me. . .never saw that side of you before."

Now this you can believe.

"Next day, still thought about tellin’ ya. But after the pool, there was no goin’ back. I mean, damn."

There’s a sparkle in his eye as he reflects on that. He adjusts himself, which always makes you tingle, even now. Especially now? God, you have no idea.

"Guess it kinda did somethin' to me,” he says. He raises his eyebrows and gives your thigh a rub, but you flinch. It isn’t personal, you’re just on edge, but his eyes get sad and he takes his hand away, resting it in his lap as he sits back lazily on the couch.

You ask, "So why tell me now?"

"I dunno, maybe I'm growin' a conscience."

You try to make sense of that, but you can’t. Why would he feel guilty about you doing something as depraved as blackmailing him into sex?

"Woulda been hot as hell though. Maybe I shoulda let ya go through with it. Damn.”

It sounds like everything is up to him, and apparently, it is.

He hesitantly rests his hand on your back and slowly rubs it. You take a deep breath and sigh audibly. You’re melting under his fingertips.

He lowers his voice, “So, now that you know everything . . .”

His phone buzzes. When he looks at it, he tenses and sharply inhales.

“Your dad’s here,” he says.

And your car is still parked outside in the turnaround.

Planning for the next chapter to be the last in this story. . .

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #perdo pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #toxicanonymity ☠️#toxicdbf #dbf!joel #pervy!joel #dbf!joel miller #joel miller/reader #joel miller/you #bill and frank #joel jacks off #toxic dilf summer

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tiny-1karus · 8 months

Text

Pairing: Yandere Batfam (Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian) x Reader

TW: GRAPHIC domestic and verbal abuse (but not by the batboys) so please take this warning seriously, stealing, feels, background manipulative behavior, obsession

This is a hurt-comfort fic about a fem Cinderella-esque Reader who wants to move away and yandere!batfam's reaction and response to that. Btw, Damian is around the same age as the Reader here and they are both in university.

There are some dark themes but the hurt-comfort is the main focus. This is technically part 2 but can be read as a standalone. Enjoy!

Just a warning though, this is a 6k+ fic that almost got to 7k. I got carried away lol.

…

"It would be nice to get out of the city."

You were looking out the window with a pensive expression as you said this. You were currently in the Wayne manor's dining room eating lunch with all the Wayne men. You had just finished your lunch (after fighting off numerous attempts to add more food onto your plate with your fork) and was quietly sitting in the large dining table sandwiched between Damian and Tim as you waited for the others to finish eating. You hadn't meant to say it aloud, you were just musing to yourself as you daydreamed, but everyone in the room heard it regardless.

All of the men immediately perked up, albeit in varying degrees.

"You mean, like a vacation?" Dick asked across from you with a smile. You certainly deserved it, after all.

You shook your head with a chuckle as you leaned into your palm with a wistful smile. "Maybe something more permanent than that. Anywhere would do. Maybe out of the country too, who knows?"

Everyone frowned as they immediately picked up on your phrasing. They couldn't help the growing feeling of dread in the pit of their stomach as they began to fear the worst.

Tim cleared his throat with a strained smile. "Permanent?"

You turned to him with a bright and eager grin. "Yeah! Can you just imagine it? I finally get to build the life I've always wanted. Away from—" your smile faltered as your mind drifted to your family but you immediately picked up your smile, you didn't want to worry them after all. "—… From the city and all that. I could get an apartment, get a better job, the whole shebang!" You wiggled a bit in excitement, totally oblivious to the darkening moods of the people around you. You were too caught up in the prospect of a better life away from your miserable family to notice the downright frightening expressions of the men around you.

Of course, it was a few years away but 3 years compared to the hell you've endured your whole life? It wasn't even a competition.

You beamed at everyone even when they stayed uncharacteristically silent, you got the feeling that something felt a bit off with them but their faces gave nothing away so you wrote it off. "Don't worry guys! I'll be sure to get you all nice gifts once I'm rich and famous. The best on this side of the continent and what money can afford, of course!" You tried to flip your hair but immediately laughed at that. The very idea of you gifting one of the richest man alive and his family the best of anything with practically nothing was so laughable that it was silly. You covered your mouth as you giggled uncontrollably. Even if you saved up for the rest of your life, you doubted that you could ever gift them anything worth of value or that could match their status and taste. Maybe it was just as funny to them as it was to you.

But the entire room was dead silent.

You missed the alarmed looks and rapid silent communication that occurred between all the men in the room while you snickered to yourself.

Damian had a fierce glare as he clenched his fork so tightly his knuckles turned white, he had to fight the urge to stab something. Dick immediately reached out discreetly to Jason, who sat next to him, and gripped his arm in warning even as he struggled to remain calm himself. Jason shoved his shaking hands under the table and balled them into tight fists as he grappled with a sudden surge of anger, fear, love, confusion. It was a struggle to keep his rationality at the moment if not for Dick's steadying grip on his arm. Tim wasn't faring any better as he sat there with a growing sense of anxiety as he looked stricken, as if you had just killed a puppy in front of him.

Deep inside, they could all feel a gnawing sense of nausea and panic clawing up from their stomach up to their head as they fought to control it. They never would have expected this of you.

Why didn't you want to stay?

Bruce was the only one who seemed unaffected by the sudden revelation of your plans. If you had known him better, you would have noticed the subtle tenseness of his body and the slight furrow on his brows that betrayed his emotions. He knew his sons wouldn't be able to speak right now so he spoke for them instead. "What do you mean by that?"

Everyone already knew the answer to that but Bruce had to ask just to make it a 100% clear that you meant what they all feared you meant.

You smiled as you propped your chin into your hand, oblivious to the intensity of the question and the glares. There was an excited and hopeful gleam in your eyes as you told them the greatest wish you've held so dearly to your heart for years. "I want to move out once I've finished with college. Anywhere would do as long as it's out of Gotham. I think I could save up enough for that by the time I graduate." You leaned in with an excited grin as if you were sharing a secret, "I've been saving up for years, actually."

Your declaration was met with silence, again. This time, you finally took notice of it and the glaringly dark moods of the people around you. The smile dropped off your face as you looked around. Was it something you said?

"Is everyone alright? Did I—" but you were interrupted as your phone rang. You fished it out of your pocket and looked at the caller ID, it was your stepmom.

You grimaced as you excused yourself from the table and hurriedly went to the hallway to answer it.

The second you were gone, a heated argument broke out on the table as everyone started speaking in furious but hushed tones.

"She's leaving?"

"She never mentioned this before." Tim anxiously ran his hand through his hair, mussing up his neat do.

"Goddammit! The fuck is this shit?"

"We can't allow that to happen." Damian's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I won't allow it."

"Calm down." Bruce's commanding voice cut through the frantic chatter. There was a familiar calculating gleam in his eyes. It was a silent command to follow his lead.

Slowly, the men all settled down. They were the Waynes, and most importantly, a renowned team of the world's greatest detectives and vigilantes. They couldn't lose their composure over this.

They'd have to find a solution for this, simple as that. They would have to dissuade you of this ludicrous notion of yours. The world was far too dangerous for you to be out of their sight and beyond their protection. They knew the darkness of the world all too well; they lived, fought and breathed in it's cover every day and every night of their lives.

Tim clasped his hands on the table and frowned. Now that he was thinking clearly, he immediately pinpointed the reason why you'd want to leave Gotham (leave them). Or, one of the main reasons at least, you've never really talked about this before now.

"I'm sure we're all aware what made her want to go."

In unison, all of the men in the table scowled and shared dark looks. They had researched your background extensively in the beginning, it was a provision for any person they had any form of contact with. It had simply started as any other security procedure, simple and necessary. But when their obsession started and steadily grew, they began digging further and further until the nature of your family was brought to light.

The Waynes were left severely disgusted and frighteningly outraged at the abuse you had to endure everyday from those utter scum infesting your house. It was inconceivable, that you—an angel and Paragon of light in their life—would ever be treated so terribly by the vile vermin posing as your family. Family was sacred to them, and for these churls to desecrate that by hurting you, of all people, to the point that you'd rather leave this city (and leave them) was beyond criminal.

They were the reason you wanted to leave (leave them, leave them, leave them). Of course, it would always go back to that pathetic, disgusting excuse of a family you have.

They'd have to rectify this.

For your sake.

No matter what.

…

You returned with a frown, the earlier light and gleam in your eyes had dimmed as you stood in front of the table fiddling with your phone. You noticed that everyone hasn't seemed to touch their food since you left, but other than that, they seemed normal enough. There wasn't a single trace of their dark mood from earlier. Had you imagined that?

"Sorry it's so sudden but I have to go home. Thank you so much for lunch! Bye Mr. Wayne, bye everyone!" You reached out to give a quick hug to Tim since he was closest to you.

Everyone stood up and crowded against you all of a sudden.

Dick pouted as he held his arms open. "You already forgot about me, baby?"

You laughed and quickly hugged him, his arms held on to you a bit tighter than he usually does but you didn't mind. His hugs always felt so warm and nice.

Jason ruffled your hair roughly as he pulled you into his arms the minute Dick let you go. "C'mon squirt, I'm taking you back."

You raised your head to look up at him even as you were pressed to his chest. "You don't have to, Jay. I don't want to impose on you." You protested with a chuckle as he squeezed you one more time before letting go.

Damian scoffed, even as you leaned closer to him and his arms automatically opened to give you a hug. A feat that none of his family thought him possible of. "Tt. Todd's driving skills are incompetent. You'd sooner put her in an accident before you get her home." He skillfully maneuvered the both of you away from Jason's irritated swipe. His green eyes looked down on you thoughtfully, "let me take you—" his mouth curled distastefully at the next word, "—home."

Your mind reeled as the boys began squabbling amongst themselves on who would take you home. You felt immensely flattered and grateful that your friends were so willing and generous to take you back back home but you were anxious about imposing on them and how you were running out of time to get home. Your stepmom could get… Nasty if you didn't follow her rules to the letter and you were supposed to start on your chores half an hour ago.

You held up your hands placatingly, "I'm really, really grateful for the offer, everyone, I really am, but I have to go. I'll just catch a bus, I don't want to bother any of you."

Tim snorted, as if the very thought was absurd, "how could you ever be a bother? That's just ridiculous. And a bus is just dangerous and unreliable at this time. C'mon, I'll take you—"

Bruce, who had been a silent, watching figure behind the boys, layed his hand on Tim's shoulder, immediately shutting him up.

"Tim, I'll take her home. Why don't you and the others rest for now?" His voice was calm but his eyes were a different story. "We'll figure out that… Issue with the competitors when I get back."

It was like a switch went off in the men in front of you. They suddenly looked so serious and grave that you were afraid to ask about it. It probably isn't even your place to know about whatever business the Waynes had anyways.

You withheld an exasperated sigh but couldn't help smiling a little as Mr. Wayne led you to the garage with his hand resting against your upper back. You knew it was futile to argue with the Wayne patriarch so you just went along with it. Secretly, you were touched and grateful that the family cared so much for your safety that they'd go out of their way to drive you home. It wasn't the first time they did this, but you couldn't help feeling shy about it still. You didn't want to bother or inconvenience them from how wonderful they've been with you, after all.

Gosh, you were going to miss this once you move.

!!! CW: GRAPHIC Domestic and verbal abuse, proceed with caution !!!

Days passed with relative ease, your stepmom still worked you to the bone like a slave as your two stepsisters piled on your already busy duties with inane, miscellaneous tasks that they were more than capable of doing themselves. This was hard enough to do on top of your college workload and your half-time job but you bit your tongue and silently shouldered it all. You had learned early on that fighting and standing up for yourself was pointless and only served to make your life harder than it already was.

And you couldn't afford to anger your stepmom, lest you lose the roof above your head (it was one of her favorite and reoccuring threats against you). You needed a place to stay that was close enough to your university that the commute wouldn't kill you and one that wouldn't be a drain on your already strained finances to maintain. You had already checked for every other alternative there was, everything was frustratingly just out of your budget and means.

On top of being a working student, you only got into the University of Gotham through a full-ride scholarship. You couldn't afford to slack off on any front. Everything would be worth it once you finally graduate. You'd leave this miserable house and find a place you can actually call your home.

You leaned against the kitchen counter with a cup of cheap instant coffee, the only thing that your step-family never seemed to touch. It was the main reason why you kept on buying the brand in the first place even if it tasted awful. You had just finished cleaning the whole house, ending with the kitchen. You were resting for a bit before you'd start on dinner. You preferred to do all the chores early so that you had enough time to dedicate to your school work before you had to leave for your shift.

As you sipped your crappy coffee, your stepsisters entered the house loudly as multiple shopping bags hung from their arms. They ignored you and completely blew past you as they went up the stairs with obnoxiously heavy steps. You glimpsed the brand on the bags as they went by and you couldn't help feeling confused. How on earth were they able to buy from Chanel? You never bought from there, never even entered the store in your lifetime, but you were at least aware that it was a designer brand and what they sold wasn't cheap.

You pursed your lips as you parsed through the memory of the past few days. You noted how weird it was that your step-family seemed to increase their spending habits from seemingly nowhere. Unless they secretly won the lottery and failed to mention it to you (doubtful, your two stepsisters were a pair of braggards), there was just no possible reason on how they could've gained so much money from thin air.

Your stomach dropped as a horrible thought crossed your mind.

No, they couldn't have.

You felt sick to your stomach as you rushed up the stairs towards your room. You hurriedly opened the door and locked it behind you before you all but dove under your bed. Your eyes widened in horror as you saw a corner of the perfectly cut piece of carpet flipped upward. You never left it like that, you always made sure to bring it back to how it was, inconspicuous and safe. Even if someone looked, you made sure to cut the carpet in a way that no one would easily notice.

The sinking feeling in your stomach opened up into a nauseating pit as you shakily flipped the carpet all the way and picked up the loose floorboard you had painstakingly pried open all those years ago. All to hide the ticket to your brighter future.

The small space under the floorboard was empty. The metal box that held all your savings was gone.

Just then, the loud, obnoxious laughter of your step-sisters rang out from the room adjacent to yours and startled you badly enough that you hit your head on your metal bed frame.

You felt so sick that you were a second away from throwing up that cheap coffee. You crawled out of the bed and sat on your haunches with a stricken expression. You felt far away as your mind replayed all the times you caught your step-family parading through the house with brand new, luxurious items.

It was your money the whole time.

After your first few, miserable attempts at gaining financial literacy ending horribly for you, you had decided to personally hide away your money so that your stepmother could keep her and her daughters grubby paws off of it. You had been meaning to transfer your money into a secure credit for years but with how hectic your life had been you had pushed it off until the last minute.

Now it was too late.

You were ripped out of your revery as your stepmother's voice boomed from downstairs, irritatedly calling your name. Without even realizing it, you were suddenly walking down the stairs on autopilot to be greeted with the sight of your stepmother standing in the small foyer with her arms crossed imperiously.

She eyed you coldly and her lips curled in a sneer as she gestured dismissively towards the kitchen. "Have you been slacking off? It's almost dinner and you haven't even started on anything. What do I even work for—"

"Did you take my money?" You cut through her incessant nagging. Your eyes bored into hers with an intensity that she had never seen from you. She seemed too shocked by your sudden gall that she forgot to be angry.

You stopped at the last step and gripped the handrail. You were quivering from nerves and a steadily mounting anger as you stared right at her, as if silently pleading that it wasn't the case. That, by some miraculous force, your stepmother wouldn't do something that was ingrained in her twisted nature.

Her expression schooled into one of casual indifference. The woman seemed to raise her chin higher as she sent you a challenging look, "what money?"

You curled your hands into fists and pressed them tightly against your chest. It did nothing to alleviate the pressure, pressure, pressure—that suddenly burst from the very core of your being into an enraged scream. "DID YOU TAKE MY FUCKING MONEY—"

A harsh, violent slap cut you off mid-scream as you were sent careening into the wall. Your head hit the wall harshly and you crumpled against the landing of the stairs, dazed out of your anger. Before you could even get your bearings, the same cheek was struck, but this time with a sharper, stinging pain that seemed to break skin. You cried out and curled up into a ball to hide your face.

There was a moment of tense silence as the all-consuming anger that had seemed to engulf you was effectively replaced by a familiar fear.

"How dare you." Her voice quivered with malice and sheer, utter wrath.

Sharp nails dug into your scalp and grabbed a fistful of hair before violently yanking your frightened face to face hers. Her eyes spoke of malevolence as she brought your head closer to hers.

"How fucking dare you!" She screamed right into your face, spittle flying from her mouth, "I decided to take in your worthless ass out of the goodness of my heart once your fucking daddy dies. I provided a roof over your head, food to eat, and the clothes on your back and this is how you repay me? You worthless bitch!" She slammed your head against the wall and you clenched your jaw just so that you wouldn't cry out.

If you hadn't been overcome with fear, you would have laughed right in her face. You barely had food to eat, all the clothes on your back you had to thrift on your own with your own money and this house? She stole it from you. You wanted to throw it all back in her face but it was getting harder to think through all the pain.

"That fucking money you have? You owe that to me for every single goddamn thing I've ever done for you. You could've been some worthless street rat or a fucking low-life prostitute but I kept you here, because I'm such a good person and I deserve nice things!" For the third time, she slammed your head into the wall, you didn't even have the energy to cry out. Her chest was heaving as her deranged eyes glared at your dazed eyes. After a moment more, she released her iron-grip on your hair and let you crumple into the floor in a heap. As if to add insult to injury, she delivered a swift but punishing kick to your side.

"Clean this up, then go to your room. You're not going to eat dinner and I don't want to see you until tomorrow." She clicked her tongue in annoyance, "selfish bitch."

Your stepmom stepped over your prone form and went up the stairs as if nothing happened. You pressed your forehead against the cool tiles and counted in your head until the spinning stopped and you could breathe easily.

Once you were absolutely sure that no one would be coming down, you shakily picked yourself up. You glanced at the blood on the ground that had dripped from the wound on your face. It was probably from the large, gaudy ring your stepmom insisted on wearing. You gently poked at the side of your head that had been brutally smashed against the wall repeatedly, it was really sore and you felt lightheaded. Your vision was swimming a little and you didn't know if that was a good sign. You desperately hoped that you didn't have a concussion.

You glanced back up the stairs, heard nothing, then began creeping towards the front door. You held your tender side and ignored the pounding of your head as you reached for the door knob with a shaking hand. You hesitated before opening it, afraid that the sound of the door opening would summon your demonic stepmom to give you a round two.

But the thought of staying even a minute in this house pushed you to open the door. You opened it as quietly as you could but didn't bother closing it once you've slipped past. You secretly hoped that they'd get mugged.

…

Once both your feet were on the pavement, you ran. It was raining heavily and you wore nothing but a thin shirt and threadbare pants so the cold easily pierced you, but it only pushed you to run faster. The sidewalk was fairly deserted so it made running like an idiotic madman very convenient. You barely had the presence of mind to watch where you were going as you frantically weaved through corners and streets until your lungs felt like it was going to burst. You didn't stop until you felt like you've gone far enough. Until you were as far as you could go from that house and the awful people inside it.

The rain pelted you mercilessly as you stood there on an empty sidewalk, chest heaving, head pounding, and body trembling from a mixture of the cold and the storm of emotions that whirled and ravaged you from the inside. You felt so angry, bitter, hopeless, and so damn helpless that you felt like it was going to tear you apart.

That was years of hard-work, of fervent dreams and hopes, of everything that you had been working so hard for, gone. And worse, you had been helpless to stop it. The vision of a bright future away from your awful family was cruelly ripped away from you just when it felt like it was within your grasp.

If you didn't feel so utterly hopeless and bitter, you probably would've laughed.

Someone called your name and you blinked up hazy eyes to stare at a man who stood a couple of feet away from you. He was similarly drenched in the rain as a white streak of hair hung over his blue eyes. His chest was heaving as if he had been running this whole time. It clicked and you recognized him as Jason Todd, your friend. You were suddenly hyper-aware of the very visible wound on your face and you quickly turned your head to the side and let your wet hair curtain that side.

"Doll," Jason called out to you as he slowly approached you, as if approaching a wounded animal. Once he was in front of you, his hand reached up to cup your uninjured cheek as he took in your drenched and rumpled clothes and your bloodshot eyes.

"Are you alright?" You had never heard him sound so soft before and the tender way he held your face seemed to break you down further. You sobbed loudly as you flung yourself into his chest and clung to him desperately like a lifeline. His arms came around you in a protective hold and you felt his hand on the back of your head as he stroked your wet hair comfortingly. You ignored the way it made your head pound.

"I can't take it anymore! How—" you choked on a sob as you buried your face further into his chest, "how can they…?" You couldn't even finish it as a surge of deep-rooted bitterness swelled and clogged up your throat.

Jason let you sob openly into his chest as he held you closely. He didn't seem to mind the rain as he just… Held you, out there on the sidewalk of the seedy part of Gotham. He felt like the only thing keeping you from tearing at the seams until there was nothing left of you.

"C'mon sweetheart, let's get you home." Jason murmured into your hair as he half-carried and half-led you to a sleek, black car parked next to the road. He opened the rear door for you as you all but stumbled in and he quickly followed from behind.

"Hey, sweetheart." You didn't look up but you could recognize Dick's voice anywhere. "Don't worry, we're gonna take you home."

Home, there's that word again. It grated on your fragile nerves and made even more tears spill from your eyes. "Please, I can't go back there. I can't—please."

Jason gently laid a hand on your shoulder as you shook so violently it felt like you were falling apart.

"You're not going back there, doll. We're taking you back to ours."

Distantly, you felt like you should protest (you couldn't be a burden, you couldn't be a burden, you couldn't—), but presently you just didn't have the energy to. Numbly, you nodded as your shaking lessened but didn't dissapear. You felt so cold in your drenched clothes.

Wordlessly, Jason took off his maroon leather jacket and draped it over your shivering form. It was a little wet on the outside from the rain but the inside felt so warm since he had just worn it; it smelled of cigarettes, libraries, and something vaguely metallic. It brought a modicum of comfort to you. But you felt so numb that you didn't even notice that Dick had been driving for a while now until the car stopped.

The passenger door on your side opened and a big, warm hand settled on your shoulder. Dick's worried blue eyes looked down on you. You shakily stepped out with his hand on your back, silently supporting you. You gripped Jason's jacket closer to you as the two Wayne brothers flanked you on both sides as they led you into the house.

You had your head bowed as you were gently shephered into the living room where the rest of the Wayne men were anxiously waiting for you.

Dick led you to the cozy arm chair near the fireplace as Damian and Tim immediately stood near your chair like sentries. You couldn't bear to look at them so you let your wet hair to hang limply in front of your face in a weak attempt to hide your face and the bruise on your cheek.

God, you felt so pathetic. How do they see you now?

Suddenly, Mr. Wayne was kneeling in front of your chair peering through the hair that covered and stuck to your wet face. He gently clasped your hands as his steel-grey eyes brimmed with compassion. "What happened? You can talk to us." His voice softened as he said in a reassuring tone, "You're safe here."

You raised your head an inch to meet his eyes as you finally found your voice. "Where do I even start?" Your voice sounded so weak that you doubted he heard you.

It was more of a rhetorical question but Mr. Wayne just squeezed your hands before he answered.

"Start from the beginning."

He let go of your hands but stayed close as the rest of the Waynes seemed to huddle around you in a protective bubble. Your head was still bowed as you reached up to wipe the tears from your face as you slowly gathered your thoughts. It felt like you were majorly overstepping by even contemplating unloading your problems on them but you just felt too empty to care.

All of a sudden, a warm, steaming cup of what smelled like hot chocolate was pushed into your hands. You gave a brief glance at who gave you the cup to see Tim smiling down on you with a tender and inviting smile. You looked around and saw a similar expression of warmth and acceptance mirrored on every Wayne's face. Somehow, it gave you the push to finally talk.

Slowly, in a stilted and hesitant speech, you opened up to them about your problems at home. Like a dam bursting once the flood gates were opened, it felt like the truth spilled endlessly out of you as you shared your pain without divulging the more graphic and horrible details. You didn't feel like you had the right to say it aloud, not yet. You were half-afraid that they'd judge you for blowing up at your stepmom but they only seemed outraged on your behalf and so endlessly considerate and compassionate for your pain.

"I don't have anything more to give." You admitted quietly. Your voice sounded so hollow, even to your own ears. You stared emptily at the warm cup in your hands. It helped chase away the chill a little but you felt so empty and drained that you could do nothing but hold it. "Everything I had, they took, even when there was nothing left to take."

You sank a little lower on the comfortable armchair as you whispered in a broken voice, "It was my only hope. I thought I could get away from them if I worked hard enough. It's the only thing that kept me going." You chuckled bitterly and bowed your head lower. "Guess not."

Gently, as if you'd break otherwise, Dick pulled you into his side from where he was perched on the armrest to your right. His large, calloused hands slowly carded through your hair and you leaned into the tender touch immediately. His touch was so soft that it didn't seem to worsen the pain on your head. You felt pathetic, drained, and desperate for comfort. And these men have always been a haven of warmth and comfort that you had been deprived of your whole life. You secretly craved this but felt too ashamed to ever ask for it from anyone.

God, what were you doing? Now that they knew how fucked up your life is, how lower could you possibly sink in their eyes? You're better than this, you had to get a grip.

You straightened up as you finally met the worried gazes of the family around you. You tried to smile but you just felt so tired. "Don't worry about me, I'll… Be fine. I'd probably be able to save up again, I still have some time before I graduate anyways." You desperately wanted to believe in those words but they sounded like empty consolations, even for you. You had exhausted every other option, what was there left for you?

Their eyes mirrored your sentiment and you couldn't bear the suffocating sense of pity that seemed to emanate from them so you turned your head to the side in shame.

The action moved your hair and you felt a light touch as the limp strands of your hair was brushed away from your face. There was a sharp intake of breath to your left as Damian, who was standing next to the armchair to your left, gently ran the back of his fingers against your cheek, you winced as you felt a slight pain there from where your stepmom had struck you. His green eyes were a storm of emotions that promised danger (but not to you, never you) as he asked you in a low, chilling voice, "who hurt you?"

Immediately, the rest of the Waynes zeroed in on your cheek as you tried to hide it behind your hair again. Too late, Mr. Wayne gently grasped your chin, turned your head forward, and brushed your hair away from your face. Illuminated by the fire, the giant bruise that colored your cheek was stark against your skin. There was a thin line of red that ran horizontally from one corner of the bruise to the other, the wound had already crusted over but the whole injury looked painful and displaced on your face. As if it didn't belong on a person as precious as you.

You felt yourself warm up for the first time since arriving here, but it was from shame. Here was the evidence of a lifetime of pain and suffering and the Waynes, the most wonderful and kindest family that you had the fortune of meeting, were finally privy to it.

Tim was suddenly kneeling in front of you, replacing his father. He didn't touch you but his hands hovered over yours for a second before he settled it on the cushions on either side of your legs, his blue eyes seemed to swim with overwhelming emotions as he took in the shame and defeat writ across your face.

"I know how it feels, I've been there." Your eyes snapped to his, surprised. Him? You would never have thought…

He smiled wryly, as if guessing your thoughts. "Trust me, I know. My life from before wasn't easy." A shadow cast over his eyes but the kindness still shine through as he regarded you with an understanding that spoke bone-deep. "So please, believe me when I say that it isn't hopeless. I'm here for you, we're here for you. You're safe here, with us."

Tears slid down your battered face unbidden. You thought you had already cried enough tears to last a lifetime but the tears felt warm as you bowed your head and let them flow. For once, you felt safe enough to let yourself cry in front of people and it felt good that you wouldn't be punished for it.

Your tears dripped into the cool drink that you still clutched on your lap. Someone plucked it from your trembling hands and you heard hushed voices as they began talking to each other in soft murmurs. You let the soft sounds wash over you as you felt a wave of tiredness sweep you over. Suddenly the pain from all your sounds came back with a vengeance, it seemed that adrenaline had protected you from feeling the worst of it.

You suddenly felt woozy as darkness creeped on the edge of your vision for a second and you tilted forward. Strong arms caught you before you were even aware of it. Dick was staring down at you with worried but alarmed blue eyes.

You tried to smile as your vision swam for a bit. "I think I also have a concussion." You murmured but the words sounded slurred. It was getting harder to think from the heavy pounding pain in your head, it felt like someone was hammering away at your skull. Everything just hurt.

Someone cursed as Dick picked you up as gently as he could. You closed your eyes and let yourself sink into Dick's strong, warm arms that cradled you so tenderly. The others hovered around you and their concern and worry was palpable.

Mr. Wayne's voice was a low, rumble that followed you as Dick began carrying you out of the living room, the others following closely as if gravitated to your side. "Stay here for tonight, we'll fix this in the morning."

You felt soft lips press against your temple and someone murmured against your head the words you've desperately wanted to hear your whole life, "You're safe."

As you slowly lost consciousness; you truly, from the bottom of your weary heart, wanted to believe that.

…

After Alfred had tended to you and you slept soundly in the medical bay, the Wayne men were finally able to leave your side before reconvening in the Batcave. You had suffered a concussion with bruises on your side and face, there was a laceration on the bruice on your face as well. The worst of it were the numerous scars that littered your body—some old, some new—which were usually hidden by your clothes. It was obvious that none of it were self-inflicted.

They were all suited up and standing silently around the batcomputer, as if readying for a mission. The air seemed to buzz from the dangerous aura that emanated from the vigilantes and they had a restless energy as they watched Tim work furiously on the computer. They already made a plan on what they were going to do to the utter scum that had dared to hurt what was theirs. They were just making sure that you'd get out of this situation scot-free.

Once Tim was finally done on the computer, he rose and gave the others a nod. Without a word, they all boarded their vehicles and shot off into the tunnel and into the night. They didn't need to open the tracking device on their equipment, they all knew your address by heart.

The darkness seemed to cling to them as they drove with a single-minded determination.

They knew indeed what evil they intended to do, but stronger than every afterthought was their fury, a fury that brings upon mortals the greatest evil.*

And oh, how they'd let this pathetic family of vermin feel their wrath.

It was their job to rid the world of their kind after all.

…

Aaaand that's part 2! I wrote this out of order and started with the second part before starting on the first but I got carried away with this so y'all can have this as a treat. This was a neat little experiment to test out posting, this is the first time I posted a written work since middle school and that was like a decade ago lmaooo.

This was heavily inspired from @blughxreader their platonic yandere!batfam content and all things batfam related is just top-tier. I lost so much sleep over their blog and I don't regret it. Check out their work if you haven't already!

*and the original quote goes like this btw, "I know indeed what evil I intend to do, but stronger than all my afterthoughts is my fury, fury that brings upon mortals the greatest evils." -Euripides. I felt like it just fit the story hahaha.

Lemme know your thoughts! I didn't really edit this since I got lazy lol. This is officially my offering to the Tumblr overlords as my first post. I'm kinda new to this site and I'm gonna need their blessing and counsel. Wish me luck, babes.

#yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere fic #yandere fanfiction #yandere x reader #yandere batfam #yandere batman #yandere dick grayson #yandere tim drake #yandere jason todd #yandere damian wayne #hurt/comfort

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pixelmensupremacy · 1 year

Note

Can you do an angst, fluff one-shot where Reader knows both Krauser and Leon, her boyfriend, far back to when they were doing during Operation Javier. So during the fight against Krauser, he started saying how Leon will fail to protect reader and how he could possibly give her a good life when he’s weak during the fight, in his mind games against Leon, even hinting he will harm Reader as well. This does get to Leon emotionally so when he returns home, he starts acting off- Reader senses something is wrong when he is acting like everything is okay. So she tries her best to give him comfort and assurance.

A/N: Not going to lie I was in a crappy mood today so writing this request did help a little. Thank you for your request and I hope you like it!

Word count: 0.7k

Warnings: fem!reader, angst, fluf, hurt/comfort

“You’re so naïve, thinking you can save everyone.” Ear piercing clang rang in his ears as he barely managed to parry the attack with his knife. “You know (Y/N) isn’t safe with you.” Leon’s puzzled gaze closely watched the man that used to be his major.

“Leave (Y/N) out of this!” Leon shot back, his grip on his knife tightened.

“Oh, rookie haven’t you learned anything?” With a loud thump, Leon came crashing to the cold ground with Krauser on top of him, his knife just mere inches away from Leon’s racing heart.

“Tell me” The sharp tip of the blade poked at his chest ever so slightly, reminding of its threatening presence. “Do you really think you can provide her with the life she deserves?” Krauser let out a mocking laugh before he backed away.

“One day you’ll end up alone and it will be all your fault.”

Sharp pain stung his heart. With a gasp, Leon shot up in bed; beads of sweat prickled the fair skin of his forehead, illuminating the gloomy moonshine that seeped through the blinds of the window. Glancing at the alarm clock on the nightstand, he wasn’t surprised to see the digits have fallen on the small hours of the night; he rubbed his eyes, in a failed attempt to scrape off the image that had been imprinted in his mind, refusing to leave him at peace. His pensive, glassy irises mindlessly gazed out the window as the thoughts kept crawling back to him.

Ruffling of sheets caught his attention; glancing to his side, he was relieved to see his partner safe and sound beside him. Her half lidded (E/C) irises stared back at him, her mouth fell open as she let out a prolonged, audible yawn.

“Another nightmare?” Her gentle voice put him at ease, her delicate touch on his hand alleviated the sorrow that had made itself at home in his tormented heart. (Y/N) wasn’t indifferent to grief her partner bottled within himself from the very moment their assignment was successfully completed. It pained her to see him fighting his demons on his own- any traces of joy behind the soft cobalt blue of his eyes faded away with each passing day- yet she patiently waited for him to open up, when he was ready.

Hesitantly, Leon hummed; he forced a smile that did nothing but to further concern her. Sitting up next to him, she cupped his face, her thumbs caressed his cheeks. He leaned into her touch, immediately sensing the sedative effect she had on him; his own hands went to hold her wrists, making sure they would stay exactly there, a single tear rolled down his cheek. Her heart shattered at the dreadful look on his face; his lip quivered, his breath hitched, his eyes were sealed shut.

“It’s nothing to worry about, you should go back to sleep. You know you gotta wake up early tomorrow.” Leon tried to convince her, yet his shaky voice did little to aid the confidence in his words.

“Oh, dear.” She pulled him in her arms, to which he surrendered as he wrapped his arms around her form in a tight hug. Her fingers tangled in the mess of blond strands, whilst her other hand rubbed circles on his back in a soothing manner; his nose was buried in the crook of her neck, intentionally muffling his uncontrollable sobs. She planted a kiss atop the crown of his head all the while she gently rocked him back and forth; he was gripping on her loose shirt, his hot tears rolled down his face and landed on her shoulder akin to a gentle flow of raindrops.

“You know you can tell me anything.” (Y/N) reminded him as she kissed his temple; in response he nodded with his face still nuzzled in her shoulder. With her arms still wrapped around him, she carefully laid back in bed with his head now resting atop her chest; listening to the melody of her heartbeat, Leon felt ease weave in his tense muscles, the sound of her beating heart reminded him the love of his life was very much alive and safe right beside him. That though alone was enough to help him relax and let himself fall into peaceful slumber, lulled by the comforting song of her heart against his ear.

#resident evil fanfiction #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon x reader #leon x you

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sadhours · 1 year

Text

Wicked Sensation

part three // billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 3.5k

warnings: 18+ minors dni, underage drinking, drinking and then driving, smut, billy masturbates, oral (f receiving), p in v, uh body fluids?

Billy liked you. You mostly kept to yourself but you were a wild child, he could tell. He’d seen you through your window, dancing in your room while you blasted music and drank beers. Every few hours you’d go outside for a smoke and he’d close his blinds so you couldn’t see him. He loved the music he could hear coming from your window. Metallica, Skid Row, Ratt, Def Leppard, Dio and the occasional Black Sabbath. When you’d dive into New Wave you’d lose him a bit until he’d seen how much fun you were having. You seemed carefree but yet there was something reserved about you. Something maybe he could tease out of you.

He’d definitely pleasured himself to the thought of it, not until after thumbing through his girly magazines but your face and wild hair flooded his mind when he looked at the girls in the magazine. He’d tossed the magazine on the ground, laying back on his bed and palmed himself through his jeans. He thought about the way you’d look riding him with your hair and tits bouncing. The way your mouth would hang open but the sides of your lips tugged up in a smile and he quickly undid his jeans, pulling his hard cock out of his jeans and started stroking himself long and slow at first. He imagined your eyes getting misty and you panting, making his movements quicker and quicker. Then he imagined his name falling out of your lips and he came undone, spilling out over his hand and shirt. When he’d cleaned up, he lit a cigarette and opened his blinds, seeing you perched outside having your own cigarette and he couldn’t help but think maybe you’d just done the same thing he did. It was midnight, after all.

The next day at school, you wore leather pants and he knew he was in for another late night.

—

Halloween came slower than he had wanted but it was finally here. He couldn’t be bothered to put together a costume but he wore his favorite leather jacket, leather fingerless gloves with his tightest 501’s. He’d spent a substantial amount of time in the bathroom. Max banging on the door to tell him to get a move on but Neil knocking on the door had him out of there sooner than he’d wanted. He finished his hair routine in his room, blinds open to see if he could get a glimpse of you getting ready. He grabs his cologne, dabbing on it neck and then just above his dick, on the blonde curls neatly trimmed there. He did this anytime he went on. Just in case, he told himself.

When he’s finished, he quietly slips out his house, making sure not to shut the door too hard. He jogs up to your house and knocks three times, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he waits. He expects you to answer but instead your father does and Billy’s a bit apprehensive, he doesn’t do well with parents. Plus, he’s not wearing a shirt.

Your dad is kind, he lets you do your own thing and tries not to interfere too much. He opens the door and tells Billy, “Past the kitchen, first door on the left.”

Billy is thankful your dad forgoes the formalities. He gets a glimpse of your brother, roughly Max’s age, sitting on couch with a costume he can’t quite pick out. He’s got those visor sunglasses on but nothing else gives an indication of what he’s supposed to be.

As Billy makes it to the hall he can hear your choice of music. Still of the Night by Whitesnake making your door vibrate. The musics loud enough that Billy doesn’t even bother knocking, twisting the door open to reveal you standing in your bra looking down at the two shirts laid out on your bed with a pensive look on your face. Billy moves to shut the door again but you stop him. “Wait, help,” you say and you’ve already had a few beers, the alcohol in your system giving you a bit of confidence and shoving your inhibitions further away.

He steps inside and closes the door behind him, looking at you inquisitively. “I don’t know which one to pick,” you admit, gesturing to the shirts on your bed. One is a leather halter top and the other is a cropped black button up with eccentric buttons.

Obviously Billy leans towards the halter top, pointing at it without a thing to say. You nod, “I was thinking that one too.”

You slip it on, then grabbing a studded leather jacket and putting that on as well. You turn to him, “Okay, I’m ready.”

He looks at your eye makeup and tilts his head, knowing this must be a costume but not sure what of. His curiosity obvious to you so you tell him, “I’m Alice Cooper.”

“No more Mr. Nice Guy,” he quips and you giggle which is not something he’d heard from you yet. He loves the sound.

You open your door and pull him through it, letting go of his jacket when you get into the kitchen because you don’t want your dad to read into this. Billy is just giving you a ride to the party, nothing more.

“Bye,” you tell your dad with a kiss to the cheek.

“Be safe, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he says as you and Billy slip out the door. Billy thinks about how nice of an interaction that was. How your dad didn’t try to control any aspect of you and how that made him a bit jealous.

You walk to his Camaro, feeling your buzz as you tell him, “I love your car, I don’t think I’ve told you that.”

He slips inside, sliding his key in the ignition and turning it. The blue car comes alive with a rumble and it makes your body tingle. He pumps the acceleration a few times to really drive the point across, putting on a show for you.

You hum happily, lighting a cigarette as he peels out, down the street and the houses flying by. The comfortability you feel in this moment is something you wanna feel forever. If you could forever feel the buzz of alcohol and a pretty boy driving you anywhere fast, you would.

Billy has a Ted Nugent cassette in and you cringe, there’s only one song on this album you like. You prop open his glove box and dig through the tapes he has, but nothing quite feels right for the moment. You purse your lips as you lean back, excited for the party. You lived for this stuff, everyone was a little more laid back at parties, they got along.

“Had you a little pre party, did ya?” Billy asks, turning the music down.

“A few beers while I got ready,” you shrug, wondering if you seemed drunk already.

Billy makes it to a stretch of road with no curves for at least a few miles, “Me too.” and with the words he floors it.

You scream with a huge smile on your face, your hands gripping the sides of the seat. The way you sound drives him a little insane, feeling the way his dick twitches in his tight pants at getting the reaction from you. Wild child, he thinks as he glances at you. He’d always wanted girls to act this way. You didn’t talk too much, you didn’t tell him meaningless details about your day at the mall or the gossip at school. You could be uptight but it was in an alluring way, a way that had him wanting more.

However, he didn’t expect for you to disappear the second you arrive at the party. In fact, it kind of pissed him off. But once Tommy saw him, he was ushering him to the keg and telling him he just had to beat Steve’s record. He doesn’t see you again for about two hours, catching you inside with your makeup smeared as you take a shot of whiskey with a group of guys. He feels protective, snaking his way between you and some kid he’s seen around school.

You grin at the resurgence of Billy, loving that you can see the sweat and beer on his bare chest. You’ve had enough to drink to where you’re no longer pushing the sexual thoughts you have about him down. They’re now at the forefront of your mind when you see him.

“Have a shot with me!” you insist, pouring Billy one before he can answer. But he couldn’t say no to you anyhow.

You cheers, clinking your glasses together before tapping them on the counter and then down the hatch they go. You two don’t break eye contact the entire time. The group of men around you had kind of dispersed when Billy walked up, aside from two of them. The four of you somewhat engage in conversation but a song comes on that makes you wanna dance.

The Lovecats by The Cure isn’t necessarily Billy’s thing but he doesn’t protest as you drag him into the crowd of teenagers dancing. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull his body into yours. He places his hands on your hips, swaying with you.

So wonderfully, wonderfully, wonderfully, wonderfully pretty. Oh you’d know that I’d do anything for you.

The words make Billy snort quietly because that’s how he feels looking at you and he has never felt that about another person.

As the song comes to an end, you lean into his ear and whisper, “Take me home…”

Again, no protest, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the crowd and to his Camaro parked on the street.

The drive is quick, you smoke two cigarettes on the way but you share them both with Billy.

Billy notices your dads car is gone when he pulls up. “Where’s your dad?” He wonders aloud.

“Oh, he’s at his girlfriend’s house… my brothers with him,” you answer, opening the car door and stumbling out of it.

Billy tilts his head as he watches you, “You good, sweetheart?”

The nickname makes you giggle and you feel the heat fill between your legs, “Yes, sir! I’m great.”

You lead him into your house after fumbling with the key for a brief moment. Billy locks the door behind him, following to the kitchen where you fill two glasses of water and handing him one. He takes it gratefully, gulping some of it down before you two reach your bedroom. You set your glass down on your nightstand and fall back on your bed, eyes dark as you gawk up at Billy. He sits on your bed, looking around your room and you think about what Stephanie had said about him.

“I mean like he knew what he was doing, he wasn’t awkward about it at all. The man knew what he wanted.”

Billy was being awkward. But you couldn’t fathom why he’d come to your bedroom with you if he didn’t want to have sex with you. You take a pointed foot and shove him with him, a mischievous grin on your face. He finally looks at you, his lips turned up in a smile and his gorgeous blue eyes darting across your upper half.

“Pick some music to play,” you tell him and motion towards your stereo and cassette collection.

He obeys, holding up Master of Reality by Black Sabbath. You nod amusingly, sitting up to shrug your jacket off and then sliding your boots off. Billy does the same after putting the album on, now just wearing his jeans and fingerless gloves. He’s more quiet than you’d imagined, which you had many many times. But in your fantasies he’s eager and saying filthy things to you.

“C’mere,” you instruct, sitting up on your feet. When he sits across from you, the both of you instinctively lean in. Your lips meet and it’s gentle at first. But then it’s like a switch flipped in Billy and he grabs the back of your head, sliding his tongue past your lips. You gasp at the change of pace, falling on your back with him on top of you. He moves his hands from the back of your head to your jaw and his gloves feel nice on your skin.

His fingertips move slowly down from your face to your chest, his lips following suit but pausing at your neck. Reactively, you tilt your head back while he plants sloppy kisses on your neck. A whimper escapes when he sucks your skin between his lips and your legs spread a little further exposing more of his clothed excitement against yours.

Feeling his erection has you laugh excitedly, your body dripping in anticipation for what’s to come. He pulls back at the laugh and looks up at you through his dark and heavy eyelashes. He’s so pretty you could almost die right now. “Tickles?” he asks, his voice low with hunger.

“Uh-uh,” you shake your head, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling his lips back to yours. “Feels so good,” you say into his mouth.

Billy begins to mess with the laces up the front of your top but gets frustrated when he can’t quite figure how to untie it. He sits back on his feet to get a better look but to no avail. He tugs harshly at the strings which jerks your upper body off the mattress, “How do you fucking get this thing off?”

The roughness of his movements takes your breath away but his frustration is adorable. You grab onto the hem and pull the top up and over your head, tossing it onto the floor with a cavalier smile. He rolls his eyes but is quick to reach his hand around your back and undo your bra in one swift motion. He drags it off of you and throws it behind him, a soft thud as it smacks against a poster on your wall before falling to the floor.

The cold air hits your chest but his mouth is efficient in warming you up, taking a nipple into his mouth while the other is covered by his hand. Your hand snakes up to the back of his neck, fingers tangling between the long curls there. “Oh, Billy…” you gasp and he responds with teeth, biting the tender skin.

But he stops and you’re eyes pry open at the surprise, not wanting this to end so soon. Luckily, you catch him tugging off his leather gloves and hear him mutter in a guttural tone, “Wanna feel you.”

Your head swims when he resumes heavy lips on your breast, his hand squeezing the other gently. You silently tell yourself you’re an idiot for ignoring the way you’d felt about him. If you could’ve been feeling this good the second you met him then you’ve missed out.

His hands smooth down your sides until his fingertips meet your waistband. He shimmies your pants down, your bum lifting to make it easier and they’re off in a heap next to the mattress. A scoff leaves his lips when he sees you weren’t wearing underwear. You shrug and tell him, “Can’t wear any with those pants, major panty lines.”

His curls bounce as he shakes his head a bewildered smile on his face, “You wore ‘em to school this week.”

“Enough talking,” you demand, getting impatient as your core is exposed to him and all he does is stare at it.

He slaps you down there and replies, “I’ll talk all I want.” You don’t mind though as he drags his fingers up and down your folds. Your head props up to watch him work while he mumbles, “Soaking for me.”

Biting your lip, you adjust your legs to give him ample room to continue. “Always so wet when I’m around?” he wonders aloud with a cocky grin plastered on his gorgeous face.

“Maybe,” you moan out as he slides a single digit inside of you.

You’re not sure exactly what it is, especially since it’s so early in the act but Billy is the best sexual partner you’ve had. Neither of you are remotely close to finishing but this is the best feeling you’ve ever had in your life. It could be the way he looks at you, eye contact was never something you did during sex. It always felt distracting but with Billy, it’s just urging that release along.

With his left on pushing slightly on your stomach, he adds a second finger inside you and instantly curls them. You gasp, your hands moving anywhere and everywhere trying to find something to squeeze. You actually sit up to grab at his shoulders, which in turns gives you a better view of what he’s doing. His thumb brushes up against your clit, just gently like he’s testing it out.

“Dear god,” you growl, your eyes meeting while he picks up his pace.

“M’names Billy,” he corrects you sarcastically and you want to slap him for teasing you like that now.

In a few seconds, you start to feel that rise in your stomach. It pushes you on your back and you spread your legs just a bit more, his fingers sliding in and out fast. He doesn’t forget to curl them up every few strokes.

Billy inches down the bed a little and his head dips down between your legs while his fingers stay inside you. He licks broadly against your clit, his tongue strong and certain. You cry out, fingers gripping onto his mullet. He looks up at you but your heads back, eyes closed as your back arches. He takes it as a sign and starts lapping at you with his tongue, quickly. Of course it doesn’t take any longer, your legs closing with him between them as you reach your high.

“Billy, yes!” you pant out, pulling his hair.

He pulls away quickly, not giving you any time to come down and crashes his lips onto yours. The kiss is all tongue and teeth, while your legs and arms wrap around him. Then he moves his hands between the two of you, able to unbuckle his belt and push his pants and briefs down to his thoughts with your help.

He strokes himself a few times before pressing his tip to your clit and dragging it through your folds, gathering the wetness. He bites his lip and there’s an uncertainty in his eyes. He doesn’t have a condom. You look at him and whisper, “I’m on the pill.”

Which isn’t exactly the protection he’s looking for but it’s enough for him, his lips tugging up as he directs his tip back down to your entrance and pushes it in. You gasp at its thickness, your fingernails digging into his shoulder.

“You’re so tight,” he says it like he can’t believe it. You almost tell him maybe he’s too big but you don’t want it to go to his head so you just whimper instead before pulling his lips back to yours, licking into it as he parts his lips.

He inches in further and the sensation in utterly intoxicating, your breath caught in your throat and you head feels fuzzy. All of you feels fuzzy almost. Once he bottoms out, he pulls back to look at you and the eye contact this time is even more intense as he thrusts against you.

You’re an absolute puddle beneath him. His name spilling out of your mouth over and over, almost like a chant. The eye contact doesn’t break either, which would in other circumstance would be uncomfortable but it’s like you’re both in a trance.

He doesn’t last long but either do you, once his hand wraps around your throat loosely you’re falling over the edge for the second time. He follows suit, pulling out and finishing on your stomach and chest. A bit of it actually gets on your chin and you can’t help but want to taste it, bringing your finger to wipe it and slipping the finger in your mouth. The action brings a bit more out of Billy, seemingly shocking the both of you but he laughs. “I could’ve just finished in your mouth, if you’d asked.”

You shyly giggle, “Had a hard time thinking, if I had tried to ask it probably would’ve came out as gibberish.”

He falls beside you on the bed and you look up at him, “Mind grabbing something off the floor so I can clean up?”

“Oh yeah! Sorry,” he sits up and reaches down to grab a ratty band t-shirt you’d left strewn by the bed. He cleans it up for you.

Now is the awkward part. You worry he’ll leave, you’ve never had someone stay and for the first time you minded. Billy stands back up and grabs his briefs, stepping into them before he walks to your bed. His fingers curl around the glass of water on your bedside table and he hands it to you.

“Hydrate,” he says. You obey, sitting up to take a few gulps. When you hand it back he does the same. But then he lays back on the bed, arms behind his head as he turns to you with a soft smile on his face. Your heart flutters and you curl up into his side. Good, he’s staying.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x f!reader #billy hargrove fic

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candywife333 · 6 months

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Wife Is Life

PART 3 of Fish-wife or No wife

Summary: Did Jungkook have a wife? The rumor mill had been churning for years, divided on this one topic. He was a successful worldwide pop star who was always seen with a different lady on his arm, as he flitted from country to country enjoying his prolific career. The reason for the lingering suspicion was a cryptic social media post showing a picture of 2 kids who shared the same exact eyes and smile as him. So in fact, if he truly did have a wife, who was she? And why had the public never seen her? Perhaps she didn't wish to be seen.

Description : famous pop-star/idol jungkook x chubby y/n , might be two-shot or trilogy

Disclaimer: The character of Jungkook shown in this fanfic does not accurately represent Jungkook's true personality or actions. Please treat this story as fiction.

Sorry for the little to no proofreading, have a lot more works lined up to post

Will have more drabbles of this couple lined up though this is the last official part.

It was 7 PM when I was startled awake by loud snoring. Damn, the man snored like a hibernating bear. I can't believe I let him touch my body. I should not have done that. Mentally reprimanding myself for poor decision making (though I truly did have little decision in the matter), I pried myself from his hold and went to take a quick shower. After a refreshing shower consisting of washing out all the cum he had pumped into me, I walked to the kitchen to see Mrs. Jeon reading a book on the couch.

"Hello auntie, how is your book so far?", I timidly asked. She smiled real wide as she saw me, pulling my hand to sit next to her, "Going well dear. Have been wanting to read it for ages but never got around to it till now". I nodded with a small smile on my face. "Auntie, I will be going out to briefly check up on the house in this neighborhood. It is just a quick 5 minute walk. Can you just take care of the kids in case they get up in between"?

Mrs. Jeon quirked her eyebrow slightly up, quietly whispering," Do you not trust them with Jungkook?" I smiled at her in a perfunctory manner, feeling a little soulless, "I honestly am not sure. He seems to only be interested in them for the time being. I don't think I can count on him to be a true father since he has not shown up for either of them consistently. I will be getting everything ready to shift into the linden house tomorrow morning". I sighed, feeling weary all of a sudden staring into Mrs. Jeon's eyes with resignation and acceptance, "I knew this marriage was a farce from the very beginning, so I never expected anything from him. I just hoped that he would visit the kids regularly. That was honestly it. You see Mrs. Jeon, ours is not a typical marriage. We just fulfilled each of our needs at the time. He found me, to take care of Iro. And I took his help to gain financial stability and have children that I could call my own".

She pensively stared back at me, with a sadness reflected in her eyes, face frowning slightly. I smiled in a reassuring manner and pivoted to grab my phone and wallet, walking out of the house to briefly check up on how ready it was. After seeing the house in perfect condition since my brief visit last month, I did some cursory cleaning so the kids and I wouldn't suffer allergies. It was a two story house with 5 massive bedrooms, a gym room, cute well equipped kitchen, and beautiful views of trees through all the windows. Imagine a house that looked like a winter wonderland, waiting for Christmas to blanket it; enveloped by berry, maple, and fir trees.

Walking back into the Jeon's house, Mr. Jeon opened the door for me with a soft smile. And to my distinct surprise, I saw Jungkook feeding or shall I say, attempting to feed Mari and Iro some pumpkin pudding that Mrs. Jeon had made. I walked in silently, and patted him on the shoulder , "Thanks for helping feed them. Both of them sleep early, so it is truly perfect that you are feeding them right now". He stared at me as if he were deciphering the contents of my soul, even as Mari jabbed her tiny finger (honestly resembling a claw at this point) into his sturdy chest. "Of course Y/N, it really is no big deal". I ate a light dinner , a bowl of lamb and potato stew with udon noodles.

Grabbing the kids from my Jungkook, I walked back to the bedroom. The kids easily fell asleep as they usually tend to once they are fed. Brushing and getting ready for bed in some shorts and a tank top, I slipped beneath the covers ready to doze off. Before I knew it , I had drifted off to sleep.

I woke up to Jungkook's heavily muscled arm wrapped around my waist, and his legs trapped between mine. His head was laid up on my left breast and I could feel his breathing on my nipple. Arousal was starting to pool in my underwear and my left nipple stiffened with the warm air of his breath flooding it. To make matters worse, his groin was rubbing against my wet core. I gasped as the small pleasure started to build in my core.

I had to get out of his grasp no matter what. I carefully detached myself from him. He had the notion that he could seamlessly slip into my life when our arrangement never included physical love. Even if he became a proper dad to the kids, I was not letting him fuck with me. The man showed how irresponsible and inconsistent he was. Actions speak louder than words. I quickly wrapped my hair into a bun, brushed, splashed my face with water, and changed into a blue cotton sundress.

I hadn't unpacked much at all, so I shoved whatever was out back into the two suitcases I had brought. Grabbing Mari as she slept, I gently woke up Iro and cleaned his face. Thank god Iro was a quiet child. We slipped out the bedroom with the suitcases and saw Mr. and Mrs. Jeon making breakfast.

I grinned, "Good morning auntie and uncle, just going to shift over to the linden house. I will feed the kids breakfast and we will go over there. You guys should come over for lunch, I will have a whole gourmet selection ready for you ". They laughed at my demand. After getting Iro to eat something and shoveling down some oatmeal myself, I packed some food for Mari and drove over to the linden house with the luggage.

Mari got up in between and I bathed both the kids as soon as we walked in. I let out a huge breath in relief, finally I would have my own breathing space. Mr. and Mrs. Jeon were lovely, but I did not want to constantly be around Jungkook. He had taken yesterday's advances, as a way to weasel into my bed. I started working on making shrimp stew, rice, fried omelettes, tonkatsu and some curry.

I was used to cooking since I was 16. It was a therapeutic activity for me. Finishing in a record time of 2.5 hrs, I took a quick shower myself and called Mrs. Jeon over. I didn't know that a hectic hodgepodge of erratic events were happening in the Jeon house in between.

Mrs. Jeon wacked Jungkook with a broom handle, "Get UP YOU LAZY BOY!!!!! GET UP!!! GET UP!!! Go get yourself cleaned up and read for lunch. You have a wife and kids to get back". She sneered , menacingly at him as slowly got up in a confused state, doe eyes wide open, puzzled by what his mother meant. "What do you mean mom? Aren't Y/N and the kids at home. Where would they have gone?"

Mrs. Jeon shook her head in disappointment, a frown on her face, lips pinched in irritation, "Your Y/N is a very independent, reliable girl. She bought the linden house before coming here and she moved into it with the kids this morning itself. She invited your father and I over for lunch. Clearly she wants to keep family bonds, but you are a miserable father and husband. If you didn't want to be a good husband, you could've at least been a good father. But no, you chose to fail on both counts". Ceaselessly shaking her head, she walked away before yelling, "YOU BETTER GET YOUR RANK ASS SHOWERED AND READY FOR LUNCH. SHE DIDN'T INVITE YOU FYI, BUT YOU ARE GOING ANYWAY, WE ARE NOT MAKING LUNCH AT HOME"!

With those biting remarks, Mrs. Jeon left Jungkook alone with his dismal thoughts. His wife had clearly not accepted him back, even as a father to the kids. He scoffed , of course she wouldn't. He had been such a horrible dad, not seeing his kids as they were growing up. Even when he was told that Mari was born by her sister Wei, he wasn't bothered at the time. He almost wanted to sit there crying the rest of the day, remembering her cute toothless little chubby face.

He showered rapidly, running to the door as his parents planned on walking over with a basket of red bean filled pastries. Y/N opened the door in a light pastel yellow dress littered with a pattern of violets, and simple diamond studs. She was classic, a beauty , and she was the moment. Her curled hair cascaded down her backless sundress. Jungkook swore his mother slightly gasped when she first saw Y/N. As soon as Y/N saw Jungkook, her beaming smile faded into an indifferent nod. He hated that he had made her that way.

She pushed his parents toward the massive oak table with a beautiful view of the garden. The entire house was filled with paintings of forests and gardens, with a small collection of creepers winding around the staircase leading up stairs. The views were also ridiculously impressive, with trees looking close to a hundred years old shading the entire house, yet still allowing sunlight in. Jungkook could tell this property was super expensive, more so than the one he had bought just from the interiors and the 3 acre garden encompassing the entire circumference of the house.

Y/N had made bank, and she might not need him anymore. He started perspiring , beads of sweat lining his forehead as he frantically thought of how easy it would be for her to delete him from her life. She was emotionally stable, mentally strong, had his parents on her side, and financially rock solid. She could easily marry a more reliable, doting husband and leave him out of the picture.

Not able to control his panic, Jungkook was barely able to eat a spoon of the stew before he excused himself with a trembling voice, "I need to use the bathroom, one minute". He booked it to the bathroom, not even able to take his eyes from the ostentatiously furnished restroom complete with a settee and potpourri. Since when were bathrooms so big that they contained sofas and potpourri?!!

Y/N was confused at his abrupt exit from the dining table. It had been five minutes since Jungkook had stumbled away in a hurry. Y/N decided she would check on him in case he needed anything. "Give me one minute auntie and uncle, let me just check on Jungkook". They nodded , consumed in eating their food and feeding the kids. Y/N walked over to the bathroom and rapped on the door, "You ok there Jungkook? Need any help finding toiletries"?

Before she could take in another breath, the door opened with a frantic Jungkook who was shirtless, pants loose. An extremely defined arm grabbed her around her waist and whisked her inside the bathroom before she could even yell. Hitting on his tan glistening chest, Y/N sharply demanded "What the hell are you doing? Let me go. What is your damn problem? Did nobody teach you manners growing up?"

Jungkook grimaced, seating Y/N on his lap, her dress shoved up all the way to her waist, chest heaving, hair in disarray, " No Y/N nobody did. That is why I cannot resist you and am driven to utter distraction by you. Ever since I saw you at the door with Mari in your arms, I have been spellbound by you. You are an enchanting, gorgeous woman and I should've seen that earlier. I used to hate on you and shame you for your body to my Hyungs. But the minute I felt you in my arms, and saw you with my babies, I wanted to kill myself for my senseless and false words".

Even as I continued beating on his chest to release me, angered by him body shaming me in the past, he fixed me to his lap, restraining my arms making me grind on his lap, his hips guiding me into a blinding rhythm. I bit out with sheer venom, "Then why don't you divorce me and marry a model instead? I don't need your money anymore, and we can share custody of the kids. If seeing my body disgusts you, there is no point continuing this". Hearing those words broke Jungkook, how could he leave this beautiful caring woman alone for some vapid shallow model? Was she so stupid that she couldn't understand how much she meant to him?

Clearly he had never verbalized enough how much she drove him nuts. When Jungkook was in a depression after breaking up with the Spanish model and having Iro at his doorstep, Y/N had swooped in to the save day. Seeing her treat Iro as if he were her own son for two years had made him love Y/n so much. He had just never wanted to get close to her and get hurt. He knew in his soul that if anyone would break him, it would be Y/N. When he married Y/N, he never even touched a woman after that. He would have escorts who he would take to galas and work parties, the tabloids going nuts at his hired companions.

Finally having Y/N in his arms, he couldn't hold back anymore. Tears streaming down his face, he undid Y/N's dress zipper throwing it over her head. Y/N couldn't even fight back against his skilled quick movements. Making too much noise would alert his parents and her kids. He desperately shoved his face wet with tears between her breasts. His calloused hands squeezed the perfect globes of her butt, getting her to slowly grind on his cock.

Y/N couldn't hold back as the sensations overtook her. She moaned quietly as she could feel Jungkook kneading at her waist as his tongue traced her collarbones, littering tiny bits all over them. Y/N attempted refusing, putting hands on his shoulders to push him away, "No Jungkook we can't do this. I don't know how many women you have been with". Jungkook warbled back , "No Y/N, you are the only one since I have married you. I tried avoiding you, but seeing the kids and you have made that impossible. I was a horrible father and husband but I will make it up to you and the kids no matter what".

Not able to control himself, Jungkook came in his pants with Y/N heavily panting on top of his lap ,completely naked. He stared at his wife, amazed at her beauty. He would never leave her or the kids again. Y/N retorted back with a quirk of her lips, eyes shining with promise and mischief, "So is that it? That was all you had for me after so many years"?

Jungkook growled back , black eyes shining into hers, mouth smirking, grabbing her hair in his hand to bring her face closer to his, "Of course not my darling", kissing her in the mouth thrusting his tongue into hers, "This is just the beginning".

#bts #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #smut #bts x plus size reader #chubby reader #self love #curvy reader #angst #jk x reader #jk x y/n #jungkook x chubby reader #jungkook x plus size reader #bts x chubby reader #bts x curvy reader #needy jungkook

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queerbuckleys · 1 year

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i’ll be worried all night and won’t wanna ask, so forgive me if i hover close ⤷@lgbtqcreators bingo square- typography [image description: 10 large gifs from 911 with lyrics from Helicopter by Maisie Peters. gif 1: from season 4 episode 5, close up of Buck as he rides his motorcycle. His expression is intense and angry. The text reads, "Babe, without me you are just so defenseless, from motorbikes" gif 2: from season 2 episode 18, Buck sits on his couch in the loft, he looks sad and confused as Ali speaks to him out of frame. He is teary eyed as Ali cups his cheek. The text reads, "and girls you might try and break your heart" gif 3: from season 6 episode 9, Buck and Eddie are sitting next to each other in beach chairs on the firehouse roof, Eddie hands Buck a mug of Hot Cocoa. The text reads, "So I'm pretty sure that I should make you breakfast, and then I should never leave the front seat of your car" gif 4: from season 4 episode 14, close up of Eddie sitting on his hospital bed as he sighs, determinedly not looking a barely out of frame Buck. The text reads, "you are important to me so of course it maddens me when you're nonchalant about your mortality" gif 5: from season 4 episode 14, close up of Buck as he climbs the crane and sees a glint in a window, he looks pensive but determined as he continues climbing. The text reads, "Please be more careful when you cross the road, You're a perfect arrangement of rickety bones" gif 6: from season 5 episode 1, Buck and Eddie look softly at each other across the firehouse loft as the team plays pool. The text reads, "So forgive me, if I hover close, I'm a helicopter 'cause I love you so" gif 7: from season 6 episode 1, Eddie looks up at Buck from his seat at Buck's dining table, he looks down with a small smile. The text reads, "Oh bare with me, darling you should know, I'm a helicopter 'cause I love you so" gif 8: from season 3, episode 3, Buck watches Eddie say goodbye to Chris out of frame , he looks conflicted yet at peace. The text reads, "It's not interfering if you can't be trusted to treasure that heart like I do" gif 9: from season 4 episode 5, A young Evan rides a bike, he is clearly upset as he wipes tears with his arm. The text reads, "Your sense of danger is antique & rusted" gif 10: from season 4 episode 5, Eddie watches as an out of frame Buck walks up to where his parents are waiting, his expression is soft and determined as he looks after him. The text reads, "and mine's razor sharp when it comes to you" /end ID]

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sapphos-ode · 10 months

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Little Cat

Part 7

Larissa Weems part 6 | part 8 | ao3

I’ve decided to stop obsessing over this part of the story, and just post it. I must apologise because there is no harvest festival yet. It’ll come in due time tho! Also originally part 8 was part 7 too but I decided to split it up :) please bear (bare?) with me during part 7 and 8, I just didn’t want to rush right into the festival

It was halfway through the school week, you had packed your stuff and taken refuge in your quarters promptly after your last class of the day - the autumn sun was still in the sky and you could hear your violin calling out to you. With winter fast approaching, your nights out on your balcony were limited.

So with a mug of fruit tea sat on your wrought iron table you pulled notes from the instrument with no particular song in mind. Idly your eyes travel up to Larissa’s office balcony - it faces yours and you’re pretty sure the huge bay window jutting out next to it is her living quarters. It was only very recently you learnt her office overlooked your room.

You notice a shadow standing in the office window, you can tell it’s Larissa, the silhouette of her hair was unmistakable and so too was her towering stature, proud and tall. You wave up to her, hoping she notices - and she does, returning the wave in a much more elegant manner. Then she leaves her place at the window, the lights turn off and you lose sight of her.

You smile to yourself, allowing Larissa to fill your thoughts. Slowly you start to play David Kushner’s ‘Daylight’. The sharp notes of the violin ring out through the air as you draw the bow back and forth over the strings - swaying a little to the rhythm as your eyes slip close.

You’re so lost in the music you fail to notice a white cat poke its head out of Larissa’s office balcony door, look at you, then pounce up onto the eaves to the roof with practised ease. The blonde had taken to visiting you pretty much every night now, and you had always welcomed her with plenty of cuddles and kisses. Each morning you’d awake to an empty bed, and each morning Larissa would wake feeling rejuvenated, memories of your arms around her fresh in her mind.

A series of meows draws you out of your trance as you stop playing. You set the violin on the table and lean down to scoop up the cat into your arms, peppering its little face with kisses. It’s heart hammering away in its chest.

“Hello again my darling,” you coo, petting under its chin. As per the usual, a deep roaring purr comes from the cat.

A particularly cold gust of wind sweeps past and you shiver. Perhaps it was time to turn in for the night. So with the cat bundled in one arm and your violin in its case in the other, you slip back into your room, the window shuts with a click, signalling the latch had engaged itself successfully. The window seal blocking out any draughts.

Larissa should’ve been more concerned that the window had locked shut but at that moment she was drinking in your perfume and the feeling of you.

The violin is deposited back in its place before you gather a cosy blanket from the bed and bundle it on the edge of your keyboard.

“I gotta give you a name,” you murmur whilst settling Larissa down on it before sitting on a small stool.

You press a few keys just to hear the sound.

She mewls a little.

“That’s a lovely name but I don’t understand cat,” you chuckle, bringing a hand up to pet her cheek.

She chuffs at this.

You stare at her. Pensive and unreadable. There’s something recognisable in the cat's blue eyes.

“You remind me of Larissa,” it clicks suddenly, you watch the cat stiffen at the mention of the name, “how does Bärchen sound?”

The cat looks at you with a quizzical look. Larissa had taken Latin during her time at Nevermore, and took a few extra classes in French at university. Never had she taken German. Her curiosity was severely intrigued now and soon enough you provided her the answer.

“Means Little Bear,” you say.

Larissa relaxes, glad she hadn’t been found out and nuzzles into your hand a little.

“I named my childhood cat Microwave cause I loved just repeating that word as a toddler,” you reminisce with Bärchen. She begins to purr, curling up and closing her eyes.

‘That poor cat.’

“She’s a very beautiful woman,” you speak up after a moment, flicking through a tattered book of sheet music you’d stolen from your dad. You’d taken it ages ago, and only now had you got round to snagging a cheap keyboard to start playing.

Larissa peeks an eye open, was she hearing you correctly? You thought she was beautiful?

She looks up to your face but you're focused on skimming over the notes to some song. She’d missed the chance to study your face.

You settle on a piece that looks easy enough, you begin to play, very choppily and slowly. Every other note you press would be wrong, and it would create a jarring sound. Usually followed by a swear from you.

The piano wasn’t coming to you easily. After a prolonged period of suffering (you weren’t playing perfectly the first time) you gave up, slapping the book shut with an irritated sigh.

Larissa lets out a soft noise, to make her presence known. As much as she enjoyed listening to your violin sessions, your piano left a lot to be desired and to be frank. Was painful to listen to. Perhaps she could bring up the piano in conversation and offer to teach you sometime.

In mute horror Bärchen watches you lift your hands to the keys again but this time you play a song you had taught yourself from those YouTube videos with the colourful bars dropping down to a png of a piano to show you what notes to play. Your finger placement is unconventional but it does the job in allowing your hands to move to where they need to be. Yiruma’s ‘River Flows in You’ starts to ring out through your bedroom. Larissa had heard it many times at the school talent shows. But since it was you playing she enjoyed it.

You hold the last note before sighing heavily, eyes closed as you let the silence ebb back in. Larissa is a shapeshifter, not an empath but even she could sense the anguish you’re in. She stands up from the nest you had made her and pads over to you, hissing when a series of notes erupt. She’d forgot the keyboard was still turned on.

Your laughter calms her down. And in a short few moments you’ve picked her up and laid on your bed. Deciding to close your eyes for a short nap whilst essentially spooning her.

What was meant to be a quick snooze turned into a deep sleep, you were out cold and had been for the last several hours. As much as Larissa loved her predicament. She did have emails she needed to answer and a whole host of other duties. So, with no sign of life from you Larissa slipped from your clutches - immediately missing and craving your warmth.

She hopped over to the window. It didn’t budge when she pushed it with her head. She guessed it was just a little more stubborn today so she put some force behind her second attempt. A hefty thud was heard and still. The window remained steadfast and left her a little stunned. That’s when Larissa remembered vaguely hearing the window lock behind you. Every other time you’d left it just a smidgeon open for her.

‘Shit,’

Larissa glanced over at you, who was still peacefully asleep. With a deep breath she shifted back into herself. She paused, deathly still to see if you stirred. You didn’t, to her relief. You must have been exhausted, she wouldn’t be surprised if the apocalypse didn’t rouse you from your slumber.

The Principal undoes the latch slowly. Making no noise whatsoever, she looks over her shoulder at you in time to see you tighten your arms around the spot where she had been. Even asleep you sensed her absence, causing your brows to furrow. Larissa’s heart ached for you. She slowly tiptoed over to you, careful to avoid any squeaky floorboards, once safely at your bedside she leaned over and pressed a featherlight kiss on your temple - faint traces of her lipstick ghosted your skin. Any and all tension in your body left you and you looked a lot more peaceful.

Satisfied, Larissa made a quick exit to your balcony before shifting again and returning to her office.

The next day Larissa had caught you in the corridors on your way back to your classroom after covering a botany class, the teacher having taken ill.

“Ah! Miss. Karnstein!”

The blonde watched as you stopped very abruptly and whisked your body to face her, your attention in its entirety focused solely on her. Her heart flutters in her chest as she watches your lips turn into a smile. Your eyes flooding with warmth as they usually are.

“Principal Weems, please just call me Atikah,” you bump into her with your hip playfully, “we were on first name basis at the weekend, were we not?”

Larissa’s cheeks redden as she recalls the drunken night, not that she regrets a single thing. If anything she was delighted that she had accidentally knocked on the door. If she hadn’t been so tipsy she might even have been able to notice the palpable tension between you.

“Well then, Atikah,” now or never was all Larissa could think. She took a steadying breath, but it didn’t help much. “I was wondering if- I was- ” Larissa cuts herself off. Nerves getting the best of her. This was ridiculous - she was the principal of Nevermore, her whole life she faced nothing but adversity. It was not an easy life but she had triumphed and blossomed into a remarkable woman who had gone on to do amazing things and would go on to do even more - yet here she was. Struggling to ask a friend (she considered you to be friends) if they wanted to spend time with her.

“Everything alright, Larissa?” You begin to worry for her, a tangible wave of anxiousness seems to be radiating off of her mixed with a great deal of nervousness. You can’t help but feel a little anxious too… about what you don’t know.

“Yes- yes everything is quite alright,” her voice seems shaky, concerning you more,” I just wanted to…” Larissa trails off. Suddenly she can’t seem to keep eye contact with you. Her gaze falls just past your shoulder as she slips into silence. Brow furrowed. You miss having those baby blues trained on you.

“My classroom’s just up the corridor and I don’t have a class this period, come on,” you reach out and cautiously take one of her hands in yours and lead her the small way to your classroom.

Larissa allows herself to be dragged by you, enjoying how your hand fits in hers. Unconsciously, and to her absolute horror, her hand tightens around yours. She holds her breath and hopes you don’t comment on it. You don’t, but what you do do is tighten your own grasp whilst looking over your shoulder to give her a reassuring look.

Principal Weems doesn’t recall when she entered the room, or when you locked the door. Or how she ended up sitting in your chair with you perched on the edge of the desk directly in front of her. Your position means she’s having to look up just a little to meet your eyes. And god you’re really close to her… Larissa’s curious if she opened her legs would you go down on your knees in front of her and-

“What’s up Larissa? You’re tense.”

The woman snaps out her daydream and meets your eyes, confusion on her face before she catches on.

‘Just ask her!’

“Harvest festival, are you going with me!?” It comes out jumbled and rushed. Crude even.

Your eyes are wide and you purse your lips, about to answer before Larissa speaks up again.

“I’m sorry, what I meant to ask was if- if you’re going to the Harvest Festival, and if you’d like to join me,” Larissa regains some semblance of composure, “I’m asking if you’d like to go to the Harvest Festival with me.”

You let out the softest laugh, “you got that worked up over asking me to the Harvest Festival?”

Larissa makes a small noise in confirmation, feeling embarrassed over how agitated she got. There’s a vulnerable look in her eyes and she feels so small under your gaze. She fiddles with the hem of her dress. You lean over and place a hand on her cheek, caressing her face, at this she looks up into your eyes. She seemed so shy and unsure of herself.

“Do I make you nervous?” Your voice comes out as a coy whisper. Your eyes searching hers hungrily.

“Yes,” she said breathlessly. Her eyes lidded as she held your gaze.

You held your breath as you looked between her lips and her eyes. You were expecting her to bite back, not answer so earnestly. Your hand slid from her cheek to hold her chin, tilting her head up. You didn’t take your eyes off of hers as you leaned in a little, going slowly. You weren’t really thinking, but if that Saturday night spent with her after Alice had left was anything to go by, you had an inkling she may return your feelings. Just an inkling but it was enough for you to test the waters.

You catch how Larissa’s breath hitches in her throat. How her thighs press together as she squirms in her seat. The movement garners your attention and when you look back into those mesmerising blue eyes, she knows you saw. You lean in a little more. You can hear Larissa’s breathing - short and rapid-

Knock

You pause looking at the door with a scowl. A darkness clouding your eyes. Larissa was captivated by your sudden change in demeanour. If she wasn’t already hot and bothered down under, she definitely was now.

You think the intruder has left at the silence, so you turn your attention back to Larissa-

Knock knock

You pull back suddenly, your fleeting confidence gone - your face glowing red at your very ballsy move. You pray she won’t fire you over this. Her eyes are dilated though… not much of that gorgeous blue you love so much can be seen. Engulfed by her pupils.

“I would love to go to the Harvest Festival with you, thank you for asking, Larissa,” you speak softly before taking her hand and coaxing her to stand - leading her to the door where another knock is heard. Sounding rather urgent.

“I look forward to it,” your voice sincere.

Larissa nods, a little subdued from your earlier stunt but as soon as she opens the door she’s back into the oh so attractively confident and formidable Principal Weems mode. The person on the other side of the door stands to the side to allow Larissa to exit.

“Miss. Sinclair, I do apologise for stealing Miss. Karnstein, she’s all yours now,” Larissa pauses as she looks at Enid, lips pressing into a frown but the girl just wordlessly brushes past the Principal. Heading straight for a desk near the back. You shoot Larissa a look of concern which she shares with you.

“I’ve got it, don’t worry,” you whisper to her.

Larissa looks to Enid’s general direction and you can feel her worry for the young girl. It’s something you adore about Larissa, she truly cares for each and every student with her entire soul.

The blonde nods as she looks at you again before heading to her office. She’d check in on Enid herself later.

AN - again I’m sorry for the mess of this chapter

Tag list: @weemssapphic @blessmysouljessisonaroll

#larissa weems #larissa weems x reader

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afewproblems · 1 year

Note

agree with steve not forgiving eddie! how do you think it would go when they see each other for the first time after everything? like.. I feel like steve would just tell him it’s over for good but :O

Part one, part two, part three

The record label releases a statement, something to the effect of privacy concerns, not to misconstrue or blow things out of proportion because photos can be manipulated. There is no firm denial, but no confirmation either. It's all wishy washy bullshit.

It's like Steve's heart breaks all over again.

He doesn't speak to the press, despite redoubling their efforts to talk to him, Steve unplugs their home phone permanently, wraps it up in the cord and puts it in the back of the bedroom closet.

Eddie does try calling Steve's cell, but he never leaves a message, as though he knows they would go unheard.

After the initial visit from Wayne he ends up calling his de facto father in-law once a week. It's nice, it's the one good thing that has come out of this whole situation.

And Wayne doesn't seem to mind being their go between, especially since he's a lot less subtle than he thinks, asking pointed questions about how Steve is feeling, how he's handling the LOA.

It's a relief to say the least, talking to Eddie without talking to him, it allows him to breath.

It's quiet for about two weeks, the coverage of the photo and the story has dwindled significantly and the media seem to have moved on from talking about them, finally.

Steve's LOA is almost over, he's confirmed with Liz that he can return to the classroom next week as planned which leaves him in the highest spirits he's been in all month.

But of course it can't last.

The first time Steve sees Eddie is on Conan.

It's a Thursday night, Steve channel surfs absently. He's left the living room dim, the only lights from the television and the Chicago cityscape glowing through the living room window.

He lands on NBC for just a moment and freezes when he hears Gareths familiar voice speaking.

Gareth, Eddie, Jeff, and Grant are all seated on the set couch with Andy Richter. Conan asks a few questions about their tour, their recent resurgence in popularity from the movie, their favorite Marvel characters from the franchise that skyrocketed them back into the public scene.

Its a standard interview, Conan keeps it light, easy-going, not a single mention of the infamous photo.

Logically Steve knows this is most likely a mandate from the band's manager but it doesn't feel that way, it feels like a slap to the face if he's being honest with himself.

Did he imagine it? Had he blown this whole thing out of proportion? Maybe he was overreacting.

His phone buzzes on the coffee table he's left his feet on, Robin's face and 'Thing One', brightens up the room.

Steve moves his feet to sit up properly and he mutes the television with the remote before answering.

"Are you seeing this shit?" she growls on the line.

Steve laughs, "Hello to you too," he leans into the worn cushions of the couch and tries not to think of the second empty divot in the middle next to him, "yeah I'm seeing it".

"And they're not going to talk about it at all? Like what about journalistic integrity and all that shit?"

Steve rolls his eyes and snorts into the receiver, "I don't think Late Night counts as journalism Bobs--"

"Still," she huffs out.

Robin is quiet for a second before she says softly, "you okay?"

"No," he whispers, "but I think I'm the closest I'll be for awhile," he draws a heavy hand through his hair and ignores the cameras which have now panned to Eddie who looks pensive on screen.

He's not speaking, in fact Eddie hasn't said a word the entire interview. He looks tired, his normally pale face has turned sallow and drawn with deep purple bags under his eyes that even the show makeup has not covered.

Steve looks away from the screen and ignores the dull ache in his chest.

"I'm glad that it's not all over the news anymore," he admits after a moment, "but, its almost like it never happened".

Robin hums sympathetically on the line, "Twenty-four hour news cycle, they've probably found some new scandle to follow," she's quiet for another second, "he looks like shit".

Steve barks out a surprised laugh that trails off sharply, he chews his lip for a second, "is it crazy that I'm worried about him? He looks likes he's not sleeping--"

"Steve..."

"I know, I know, I'm am angry with him and I don't think that will go away any time soon, but look at him".

The camera angle switches to a wide shot of the whole group and Eddie stands out so starkly amongst the other band members that are put together, smiling, engaged in the conversation.

Verses the silent, pale ghost that Steve doesn't even recognize.

"Do not let that kicked puppy thing let him off the hook Steve," Robin says, the words are sharp but the tone is still gentle, "he hurt you just because you had a fight--"

"Maybe it wasn't that simple!"

"Steve..."

"I miss my husband Robin, I can't, I fucking hate that he did this but I miss him so much," he says, his voice wobbles slightly as Conan holds up a large version of Corroded Coffin's latest album on the desk before gesturing to the stage area to reveal their setup to start playing.

"I feel like there's something wrong with me," Steve says, giving voice to the smallest parts of himself that have been festering inside of him the last couple of days.

The longer they're apart, the longer he refuses to speak to Eddie to more these thoughts have been creeping in. Maybe he should just let it go, maybe he can eventually forgive him and they can move forward again.

It's countered again and again by the image, the kiss.

Imagining the two of them together, Eddie with this stranger. Did he call them Honeybee, the way he did Steve? Did he hold them after and whisper other sweet nothings, promises into their ears?

It's enough to turn his stomach.

"I don't know what to do, I can't exist like this much longer, the tour is going to be over soon and then what?"

"I don't know Steve, you're the only one that can make that decision, but," he can hear the small reassuring smile on her face as she speaks, "we'll be here for you no matter what you decide, I promise".

"Thank you".

"Anytime Dingus".

***

The second time Steve sees Eddie is a month after the Conan interview.

Steve's back at work and the kids seem happy to see him, though they are sad that the 'easy' sub days are done. He's glad for the routine once more, especially with the end of the tour looming on the horizon.

Steve has spent the last week fretting over what to do, he's talked to Robin and Dustin about it, weighing the pros and cons. He's talked to Wayne about contingency plans for the apartment, if he has space for one of them to go there.

Steve is fairly certain Eddie would go stay with Wayne willingly if he asked him to, but both of their names are on the mortgage and he'd rather be prepared for anything.

It's Gareth that calls him, his name lights up the darkened bedroom while the picture of Gareth and Chrissy and Steve and Eddie at their place for Thanksgiving two years ago flashes on the tiny screen.

It's late, almost two in the morning, but Steve is awake. He hesitates before snatching the device with shaking hands and swipes a hesitant thumb across the screen to answer the call.

"Hey Gar," Steve says quietly.

He sits up, letting the covers pool around his waist and stifles a small yawn with his hand.

"Oh, Steve, I...fuck is it good to hear your voice man," Gareth breathes out, he sounds surprised, nervous, "I wasn't expecting you to actually answer this," he trails off and clears his throat.

"I wasn't asleep," Steve shrugs.

There's a pause on the line, Steve can hear Gareth take a deep breath and the hushed words of someone in the background.

"I, God, Steve, I'm so sorry, I hate that we weren't there for you," he continues, and Steve can't help but agree with that sentiment.

It's certainly felt like the only one of his friends from Eddie's circle in his corner was Wayne, he hasn't heard from any of the band members or Chrissy since this happened and he can't say it hasn't stung.

"And I know you must hate us for this--"

"Gareth, I dont--" Steve tries with a small tired voice but Gareth barrels onward, the words getting faster as he speaks.

"I won't make any excuses, we should have done better by you and the fucking label knew exactly what they were doing," he breathes out again and this time its infinitely more pained, "and I hate to do this Steve, I know you already told him that you needed more time--"

"You're coming back?"

"Yeah, we fly in tomorrow actually," Gareth says softly, "and we just, well we wanted you to know".

Steve feels his heartrate quicken, he swallows harshly against the sudden lump in his throat.

Tomorrow? Tomorrow, with no warning, no notice, and suddenly Eddie would be back. He'd be coming home...

"I want to see him," Steve hears himself say before he can clamp his mouth shut, "I...can you tell him that, I need to talk to him?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, uh," Gareth stammers out, then the sound is muffled for a moment as though a hand has been placed over the receiver, lowered voices murmur in the background and Steve feels himself drag in a sudden breath, as though he had forgotten to breath at some point.

"Okay, Steve?"

"Yeah," he whispers into the darkness of his bedroom.

"He'll be there".

***

The clock ticks slowly by, interrupting the quiet of the apartment and every time Steve looks at the clock face it's still only been forty minutes since Gareth texted to tell him they've landed at O'Hare.

It's like the clock is mocking him, the minute hand holding court over the kitchen where Steve has planted himself with a full cup of, now undrinkable, tepid tea.

He initially debated offering to pick them up from the airport, but the thought of their first meeting being so public, the thought of camera flashes and more people asking questions was enough to turn his stomach.

Even now Steve isn't sure how he'll react when Eddie walks through that door, his hands shake slightly and a flicker of anxiety runs through his chest because what if he's not alone? If he brought Gareth with him, or Jeff as some kind of backup or shield from Steve's anger.

Steve scoffs to himself at the thought, they'd seen a lot of Steve over the years, he's sure this wouldn't phase them. Maybe they'd even stand aside and let Eddie take his verbal lumps.

Steve sighs and grabs the mug from the counter before walking it over to the microwave. He sets it for thirty seconds and waits with his fingers drumming against the door handle. He opens the microwave before it beeps and presses the cancel button to reset the time before he walks back to the counter and stool he had been perched on.

Steve steals another glance at the clock and curses, make that forty-five minutes since Gareths message.

The sudden sound of a key sliding into a lock snatches Steve's attention towards the entryway.

Eddie steps through, wheeling his suitcase in behind him, he lets his backpack fall onto the doormat and softly closes the front door behind him. Eddie looks even more tired than he had during the interview, thinner as well and Steve feels that familiar pang in his chest at the sight.

Neither says anything for a moment. They stare at each other unmoving, and then...

"Hi Honeybee".

That's all it takes for Steve to jump off the stool and stride through the kitchen to the foyer, he stops just in front of Eddie, takes in his shining eyes and the sharp downturn of his normally smiley mouth and Steve's last resolve snaps into pieces.

He launches himself into Eddies arms and tucks his face into his neck, it's the first time he's felt remotely normal in the last two months.

"I'm so fucking angry with you," Steve hisses but the words sound more like a sob than anything else.

"I know, I'm angry with me too," Eddie whispers into his ear, he holds Steve even tighter as he speaks.

"I just, you're the person I talk to, about everything and," Steve bites his lip and curls his fingers into the fabric of Eddie's t-shirt, "I couldn't do that, I didn't have you, you’re my person Eddie and you took that from me, and so much shit happened here, you dont even--".

He's fully crying now, so much that it's harder to speak, but Eddie is holding him so tightly he can't catch his breath.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Eddie says, his voice wobbles and wanes as the words tangle in Steves hair, "if I could take it back I would, I wish I could take it back Stevie believe me".

"It didn't mean anything, it didn't," he continues, raising one hand to card through Steve's hair as he does, "I don't know how to fix this," he admits so quietly its nearly lost in Steve's sniffles and hitching breaths.

"I don't want to lose you," Steve whispers into Eddies shoulder, the material of his shirt is soaked with tears and snot but he raises his face anyway to meet Eddie's own red rimmed eyes.

"Then you won't," Eddie whispers again, he sniffs and moves his hand to cup Steve's cheek, "we'll fight, we'll fight for it and I won't give up, I won't run this time".

"I promise".

There is so much more to talk about now, so much to apologize for, but for now, they hold each other in the foyer, letting the golden Chicago light morph into the bronze orange of sunset wash over them from the kitchen window.

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brettsearpiercing · 1 month

Text

The Nearness of You

Connor DBH x reader fluff

another oldie, this time from 2022,, it was part of a longer piece that i scratched, but i ended up liking this little part of a chapter

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 　　 :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

As you grew near to Connor’s apartment, you were greeted by the murmur of music through walls. It would appear one of your friend’s neighbors was discovering the pleasures of listening to old music, so as you knocked on the door number written on the little paper you were holding in your left hand (in your right one was a bag, hiding a housewarming gift), you hummed along with the melody of an old disney song.

After a second of waiting and some rustling behind the door, you could hear the lock click, and an adorably disheveled Connor appeared in front of you. His hair was a bit messier than usual, he had (not surprisingly) put on a white shirt, which was rolled up at the sleeves (much to your delight), and slacks. He looked very good, to say the least.

“You look nice” was the first thing he said, voice barely a whisper, you almost didn’t hear him with the music next door. He then looked into your eyes, like he had just realized he wasn’t doing just that. “Hello! You didn’t need to bring a gift!” he said, but you could tell he couldn’t wait to open it, excitement apparent in his voice.

“Oh, please, it’s your first apartment! Besides, I know you’re gonna need one of these in here” you simply said.

“Alright, if you say so... I believe you.” he said with a smile. “Come in!”

The inside of the apartment was nice, a modest living room and open concept kitchen, ‘this was clearly built in the 2010s’. In the living room there was a small TV and a loveseat couch, a white coffee table and some big, nice windows served as doors to a balcony. The kitchen was fully equipped with a stove, a dishwasher and a fridge. You’d look up why an android’s house needs those appliances when you got home. Anyhow, it was, dare you say, nicer than your own apartment, but much less personal.

Like reading your mind, he said; “There are still some boxes to unpack, that’s why the decoration is so... nonexistent.”

“Oh, tell me about it. When I first moved in I had beach chairs instead of a couch. Honestly I spent more time on the floor than I’d like to admit.” He let out a small chuckle, you were still holding the bag. You were still holding the-! “Oh- here! Happy house! I mean, happy moving in? Happy life.” you said, a little flustered you had been holding the bag for so long. Connor stretched out his hand, hooking his fingers under the handles of the brown paper bag. As he looks inside, he can’t help but smile.

A little potted mint plant is sitting inside the bag. “I remember you liked it when you tasted the one in my garden, so I brought you a little sprout of mine,” you hesitated in your explanation, you weren’t sure why you were so bashful about remembering something he liked. It was a sweet, friendly gesture! He had nothing to read into, even if you wanted him to.

“It’s lovely, thank you.” It was the first time you had heard him use the word ‘lovely’ to describe something, and it made you feel proud he used it describing something you gave him.“I think it was the first thing I ever actually tasted, so this is really...” he looks at you and you spot what you hope is fondness peaking in his mechanic eyes. “Nice. Thank you.” he then carefully takes the plant and places it next to the couch, facing the window.

“It’s nothing. All apartments need some green in them. Maybe I’ll get you some basil next.”

“Oh, thank you, but one gift is enough. I’ve only moved in!” he chuckles, “though your offer is quite kind.” he looks at you for a moment, pensive, then speaks again. “I guess that’s just a ‘you’ thing, isn’t it?”

“Oh.” the gasp is barely a whisper, and it leaves your mouth quickly, but that doesn’t mean it goes unnoticed.

“I’m sorry, did I overstep?” Connor worries. Actually, Connor worries a lot, specially when it’s about interactions with you. He can’t put his finger on why it pains him so much to see you frown at something he says. He is worried now, yet you’re not frowning. Quite the opposite, actually. Your eyebrows are shot up, like if they could pop out of your face and go up to the ceiling, they would. Your heartbeat is also going faster, and blood is rushing to your cheeks. When you don’t answer, he says your name in a tone that screams ‘nervous as all fuck’.

“Yes?”

“I...” his voice caught in his throat (in the most figurative way possible). Why wasn’t he saying anything!? The music coming from his neighbor’s house wasn’t allowing him to think correctly, his thoughts and the words from the song intertwining and confusing him.

“I like this song,” you quipped, trying to help dissipate the frown crawling subconsciously onto his face. “Ella Fitzgerald is really talented... Don’t you have this record?”

“Yes, actually.” happy at a question he can answer easily, he smiles softly, the frown still adorning his features, though less intensely now, “It’s in one of the boxes for now, though.”

“Ah, I see. Well, it’s still super nice that you have it. You lucked out, really.” he notices you swaying in time with the music.

He starts swaying with the music as well, a smooth trumpet solo paving the way for his steps, getting closer to you. He’s nervous, yet you’re not able to tell. He hopes you’re not able to. He’d be mortified.

"Care to dance?"

“Of course,” you smile at him, “I love a good dance partner” you wink, only half-joking. Your heart rate goes up again and that goddamned blush animation makes its way up his neck.

You hold out your hand to him, and he takes it. Your skin is soft and pliable under his hard plasteel cover. As you raise your hand to eye level to move into a more adequate dancing position, you notice something about Connor’s hand he’s oblivious about: it’s turning white.

“Whoa.” He’s too busy at first, looking at your astonished expression with amusement. Then he wonders about what you’re looking at, and follows your stare to find that (oh no!) he’s trying to interface with you, even though he knows you’re not capable of reciprocating. How... humiliating. Just in time, the music stops as the song comes to an end.

Silence.

Looks like the neighbors decided to finally go to sleep.

There’s a moment in which you look into each other’s eyes, and you can see a hint of terror in your friend’s eyes. You hope he sees tranquility in yours, yet he only finds pity.

‘Oh, poor little thing, it’s trying so hard.’ Yet the rational part of him stops him from spiraling down. No, you wouldn’t call him an ‘it’ before the revolution, he doesn’t think you’d do it now. Yet the pity is still apparent to him.

Only him, though.

“I am so sorry-” he looks away suddenly, and tries to get his fucking hand away from you(‘ohmygodthisisawful') yet you interlace your fingers and he stops trying to pull away when he feels resistance. It’s his turn to watch, shocked, as your human knuckles press between his man-made ones.

“Are you... trying to interface with me?”--a painfully obvious question he forces himself to answer.

“Yes. I’m sorry if this is inconvenient.”

“No, it’s... it’s fine. I just thought this was like, I don’t know, super personal for you guys.”

“It is. Again, sorry if it’s-”

“No. Don’t be dumb, you don’t have to apologize for... whatever this means.”

‘It means I like you a lot. Please realize that already.’

“Alright, then. I don’t quite know what it means either. I’m just as confused as you are.” he lies.

You stay silent.

“Connie?” he can feel his software searching for what he’s trying to connect to, and the feeling intensifies when he hears the nickname you’ve given him, “ I think... Just, going by what I’ve heard...” he must be dreaming again, “I think this means you like me.” That, or he’s hallucinating.

“It’s-” his audio generator lags, “It’s more than that.” he’s lucky he isn’t able to vomit, because he’s sure he’d be spilling his guts right about now with how nervous he is.

“Oh?” his skin keeps retracting and now his whole forearm is white. He’s partially sure it’s because of the way you’re looking at him. “So, what you’re trying to say with this” you gesture to his forearm with your other hand “is... you really like me?”

“More or less, yes-”

“Y’know humans have our way of saying that too?” He can’t form one coherent though with what little time there is between you saying this and you touching his face softly. As you lean forward you search for hesitation on his features, but since you don’t find anything except yearning, you don’t need any more encouragement to close the distance between you.

#connor dbh #dbh rk800 #connor x reader #dbh fanfic

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mumms-the-word · 24 days

Text

A Little Boat Voyage

Pairing: Gale x Tav (Dani) Summary: Immediately after defeating Cazador and stopping Astarion from ascending, Gale and Dani need to discuss Gale's own ambitions. She agrees to a little voyage on the Outer Planes to hear what he has to say, preparing to fight him about his plans. ao3 link Tags: Angst, fluff, teeny tiny bit of implied smut, mostly angst A/N: This is a rewrite of the Act 3 romance scene that reworks a lot of the potential dialogue for that scene to fit what I actually think would have happened for Dani and Gale. I combed through the datamined file for all the dialogue that Gale and Tav could say, depending on all the possible situations for this scene, and stitched together a lot of game dialogue with Dani's own convictions about Gale's plans. So in my head, this is canon for them lol

Astarion’s words echoed in Dani’s head as she left his side in the group’s Elfsong Tavern suite. He was sitting by the window, looking out onto the moonlit streets below, contemplating the aftermath of his decision to slay Cazador rather than ascend, trying to process and make sense of it. She had gone over to speak quietly with him, knowing he needed her more than Gale did in this moment, and in the midst of the conversation, he had looked up at her with a kind of uncertain awe mixed with tired gratitude.

“You believed in me,” he’d said. “Believed I was enough just the way I am.”

There was more that was said between them, mentions of newfound freedom, new futures, more words of gratitude. But for some reason, those words stuck with her. Enough, he’d said. As if it were a novel concept to him.

She could relate. There were days when she never felt like she was enough, for some person or some challenge or another.

She paused to lean against one of the columns in the room, her eyes unconsciously searching for Gale. She found him sitting in an armchair by the fire at the center of the suite, staring into the flames. He’d been wanting to speak to her all day, but between all the drama of that morning and the difficulty of getting to Cazador and battling him, she’d almost forgotten about it. Now, she was almost too worn down to approach him. It would be all too easy to just go to bed and tell him that whatever he had to say could wait until morning.

But even she wasn’t that heartless. She sighed to herself and moved around to the lowered center area of the suite, approaching him from behind. He looked up as she stopped next to his chair.

“Gale,” she said coolly, one hand on her hip.

“Ah.” He gave a kind of grimace, as though he were wincing yet trying to twist it into a sheepish smile at the same time. “You’re still talking to me then?”

Dani pursed her lips and crossed her arms, waiting for him. She had no idea where this conversation was supposed to go, and part of her didn’t want to make this easy for him. He rubbed the back of neck, self-conscious.

“I suppose you have questions…related to a certain book we read together,” he said. She arched an eyebrow and he winced. “Well. That I read,” he amended. “And I do mean to discuss it but…”

He trailed off, his eyes wandering over to where Astarion still sat near the window, staring pensively out through the glass. “You’ve given me quite a lot to think about today.”

She sighed softly through her nose. She wanted to be angry. But honestly, she was just tired.

They’d started the morning off with a visit to Sorcerous Sundries, thinking it would be a relatively innocent visit. But her anger had been tested at the sight of poor Rolan, beaten and bruised by Lorroakan, and her fears kindled by the hunger in Gale’s eyes once they had found the Annals of Karsus. Then Gale had sparked her anger again, boasting to Lorroakan about his plans for the Crown—none of which he had disclosed to Dani at all—so Dani had retaliated by petulantly revealing his plans to Elminster when the old wizard had popped up unexpectedly outside the shop. Then there was her and Gale’s argument in the street, all before it was even noontime.

That would have been enough for the day, except that they had spent the afternoon and evening infiltrating Cazador’s mansion to stop his ritual. That experience had been draining for everyone and the resulting conclusion of the events was bittersweet at best. Dani had stopped one of her best friends from giving in to his dark ambitions, but she still had her work cut out for her when it came to her own lover’s ambitions.

She just wished everyone around her would stop being so damned power hungry. Was it so wrong to wish for nothing more than a warm home and for one’s friends and family to be safe and comfortable? She knew she could be greedy too, but her greed didn’t test the limits of reality or threaten thousands of lives all at once. It just emptied a few pockets. Maybe a few bank vaults.

At her silence, Gale shifted uncomfortably in his seat before at last giving a soft sigh of his own. “In truth, I wouldn’t blame you for giving me a wide berth. I thought the orb’s ever-present censure had tamed my wilder ambition, but that wasn’t the case. Obviously, as evidenced by all that I said and did today.” He shook his head. “There isn’t anything I can say that would excuse my reprehensible behavior. I’m sorry.”

She pressed her lips together this time, wavering between wanting to stay irritated and wanting to say that there was nothing to forgive and move on. But there were concerns she still had, questions he had yet to answer. She didn’t know where to start and so, after a moment, she simply pulled another chair over to the fire, near him, and sat down, watching the flames in silence. It took her another moment to finally put to words what she wanted to say.

“I’m not mad anymore about anything that happened today,” she said quietly. “I’m just…scared.”

“Scared?”

“Of losing you. To the orb. To Mystra. To your own ambition…” She shook her head, unable to look at him. She didn’t want to explain all of her fears right now. Some of them felt utterly stupid.

She couldn’t deny that she loved Gale, ambitions and all. What else could it be but love that kept her at his side? She’d abandoned relationships for far less in the past. No, she was certain with her entire being that she loved him more than she had ever loved anyone. But this path of godhood that he kept hinting at…if he was determined to follow it, it was a path she couldn’t take with him. She just wasn’t interested in abandoning this chaotic, colorful world just yet. Not for the Fugue Plane, not for an illithid life, not for godhood, not for anything.

But if she wouldn’t follow him…what then? The thought of leaving him or of him leaving her threatened to break her heart. She felt as though she’d never recover.

But she couldn’t say all that to him now. It felt petty and selfish to admit that the only reason she didn’t want him to become more powerful was because she was scared he’d leave her behind. She was petty and selfish, but Gale inspired goodness in her. It was ironic, truly. The very qualities that had inspired her to become a better person were the same qualities that he would give up if he continued to pursue the path of godhood for the “betterment of all,” as he’d boasted to Lorroakan that morning.

But what did she know, she thought bitterly to herself. She had never intimately known a god nor harbored ambition enough to actively plot to dethrone one.

Still…if she could at all sway him…

“Listen,” she said, eyes still on the fire. “I believe you’re capable of so many great things, Gale. I believe in you. Always have, always will. But when it comes to this plan with the crown…”

“All I am asking is that you consider it,” he said.

She made a helpless gesture with one hand. “I don’t even know how I could. How can I respond to something so…immense? It’s beyond comprehension. I want to understand, but I don’t.”

He was quiet for a moment before chuckling softly and shaking his head. “I don’t think I deserve you at times.”

“Gale,” Dani said softly, his name almost a resigned sigh as she said it. She didn’t want to hear this again. But Gale held up a hand.

“Please. Let me finish.” He paused, seeming to gather his thoughts, before taking a deep breath. “I watched how you handled the events with Cazador and Astarion today. You showed nothing but compassion and courage. Your heart bled for the victims in their cages. You sought a way to save as many people as you could, despite impossible odds. And you didn’t allow Astarion’s desperation or impassioned speeches to sway you or change your mind.”

“I didn’t want to lose one of my best friends,” she said. “If Astarion had ascended…he wouldn’t be Astarion anymore.”

“I know. Yet it could have been so easy to give in. To let him have his way, simply because you are his friend. But you didn’t. You appealed to a nobler part of him, risking your friendship to keep him from changing. From transforming into something more. Something sinister.” Gale paused again, glancing back at Astarion across the room. His expression softened into a thoughtful, yet sorrowful look. “I can’t help but wonder. Do you see the same kind of choice when you look at me?”

She didn’t answer, but her silence was answer enough. She looked back at the flames, watching them crackle and spark, letting them fill the silence.

“I hope that isn’t your final judgment of me,” he said. “I hope that you can give me another chance to earn your faith. I want you to continue to believe in me. I want to show you the wizard I am capable of being, rather than the poor excuse for a man who’s kept you company thus far.”

“Gale, stop,” she said, finally turning to face him fully, twisting in her chair. “Stop calling yourself a poor excuse for a man. That isn’t what I think of you. I know I get frustrated with you, but it’s because I see so much good in you.” She reached for his hand and enveloped it in both of her own. “I don’t want to lose you to the Crown any more than I wanted to lose Astarion to Cazador’s power. You mean everything to me, Gale. Worth more even than music and magic.”

“You won’t lose me,” Gale said, tightening his hold on her hand. “If anything, you’ll gain so much more for being with me. Please. Let me show you.”

“Gale—”

“Even if a permanent place in the heavens isn’t for us, at least allow me a chance to show you what it would be like. Indulge me. Close your eyes. Allow me to take you on a little boat voyage.”

She frowned, wanting to resist. But she could tell this was important to him. She breathed a small sigh and closed her eyes, keeping one hand in his.

She heard him murmur a spell and felt the aura of magic shift around her, the warmth of the Elfsong Tavern room giving way to much cooler air. Her skin tingled all over with the touch of magic, while Gale’s hand remained solid and warm in her own.

“Few mortals ever glimpse what you’re about to see. But don’t be alarmed—I’m here with you.” He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “Now…open your eyes.”

When she opened her eyes, she found herself seated in a glowing blue boat with Gale sitting across from her. All around them, the sky, the space below, all of it was filled with scattered stars and clouds of purple, pink, and blue stardust. The galaxies and starfields stretched on infinitely around them, swirling peacefully in silence. Their boat drifted easily along a current of shimmering magic and when she lifted her free hand over the edge of the boat, her fingers caused tiny motes of starlight to drift and float through the air.

“Quite the view, isn’t it?” Gale said, looking around them. “The Outer Planes are a place of profound, sometimes overwhelming possibility.”

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. She gazed out over the infinite expanse, waiting to feel that reeling, terrifying sensation of being suspended over a void, but it didn’t come. She was safe in Gale’s little boat, his hold on her hand grounding her and keeping her steady.

“The home of the gods,” he continued. “Where they observe us from afar. Where they make play-things of us. Such power…infinite possibilities…how could I not crave this?”

She fell silent, focusing instead on the specks of starlight that fanned out behind her fingers, watching them dance briefly in the atmosphere and fade. He said it so simply, as though it were natural to crave such wondrous power. And maybe it was. Maybe she was the fool for limiting her desires to the Material Plane.

Not for the first time, she burned with jealousy toward Mystra and hated all that she had gifted Gale. All that she had made Gale capable of. How could a mere bard compare to a goddess who allowed him to tap into the mysteries of magic itself? And even now, with Gale hardly interested in reconciling with the goddess, who was she compared to all the power of the crown? Who was she compared to all this?

Gale could have this again. This and more. And she, with her small dreams and her fragile love, a love that would only last a mortal lifetime…she would fade into obscurity. Even if she managed to secure a legacy for her name, her body would rot in its grave and her soul would wander the Fugue Plane for an eternity until some god took pity on her and accepted her into their domain.

Perhaps if Gale became a god, he would be the one to take pity. She’d dwell forever in his domain of stars as one among a million other souls. One more copper in a vast bank, utterly forgotten by him, yet unable to escape him. The thought churned her gut and threatened to make her sick.

She swallowed, half-preparing herself for the worst outcomes for the rest of this conversation. “Is this really, truly what you want? To ascend? To claim godhood?”

“No, not like that,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I don’t want to join them, I want to better them—with you at my side, willing and wholehearted. Together we could become better than gods. We could have all of a god’s power with a mortal conscience, a mortal heart. I can think of no better candidate for redefining godhood than you.”

“I don’t want godhood,” she said. “I know you think it sounds insane that I don’t, and maybe it is, but…” She shook her head. “I’ve read too many stories, too many tragic ballads about what happens to mortals who ascend to godhood. They change, Gale. And they leave the ones they love behind.”

Gale sat back, a little surprised. “Is that what you think I intend to do to you?”

“Not immediately. But who knows how you would change once all that power was coursing through you. You saw how Cazador was—you saw how hungry Astarion was to claim that power. You know it would have changed him. Think how much more godhood would change you.”

“But it wouldn’t be true godhood,” he said, tightening his hold on her hand. “The power of gods would be at our fingertips, yes, but we could be—we could find a way to—”

“Stop with the bullshit,” Dani snapped, snatching her hand from his. “You can’t even articulate it because there’s nothing else to call it. You want to use the power of the crown to become a god. That kind of power corrupts, Gale. And if that’s what you want then—then—“

Her throat tightened suddenly with the threat of tears and she looked away, struggling to compose herself. She hated crying, especially here, where there was nowhere to hide, but there was no stopping the emotions building up inside her. She hid her face briefly behind her hand, but it was no use. The wide expansive of pink and purple starlight winked back at her and illuminated the flood of tears that welled up in her eyes.

Gale reached for her hands again. “Dani, I—”

She shook off his touch. “Don’t. I can’t—I can’t let you do this,” she said, the tears spilling down her cheeks. “Please. I know what you’d become and it would be nothing like the man you are now. And no matter how you would try to justify things or convince me to join you, I could never bring myself to abandon my family like that. Never. So in the end you would leave me behind, because nothing about me is enough to convince you to stay. So you’d leave, I know you would, because that’s how power works. It corrupts, it—“ She was rambling now, not making sense, her words a tangle on her tongue.

“Dani, please,” he begged, getting on his knees on the floor of the boat, taking both of her hands in his. “None of that is going to happen.”

“Isn’t it?” she asked. “Look me in the eye and swear to me that the moment your humanity is stripped away in your ascension that you won’t forget tiny, insignificant, mortal me, the lover you’re leaving behind, the moment I refused to ascend with you.”

He hesitated for just a fraction of a second, but it was enough to confirm her fears. She snatched her hands from his again and used the heels of her palms to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

“Gods, I hate you,” she mumbled, but it was a complete lie. The fact was she loved him too much. Desired him too selfishly to let him reach for godly power. She swallowed and amended her statement. “Not you. This. I hate this. Sorry.”

It was his turn to be silent in the face of her confessions and her tears. She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes and breathed softly through her nose until at last she felt calm enough to speak. Then she took a shaky breath and reached out to cradle his face in her hands.

“Please, Gale,” she said quietly. “Don’t do this. I don’t need the stars. I don’t need eternity. I just want you. For all that you are right now. I love you for the man that you are, not the god you’d pretend to be.”

He stared up at her, stricken but amazed, his hands resting on her knees. There was a faint glimmer in his eyes that could either be tears or the reflection of the stars around them, but when he blinked the glimmer was gone.

“You…you would really prefer me as I am?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” she said. There was no room for doubt in her heart, nor any in her words. “You’re already everything I need you to be and more. Just…please. Let me be enough for you. Let me find a way.”

“Oh Dani,” he breathed. He rose to one knee and slipped one hand behind her head, guiding her down into a deep kiss that stole her breath and made her a little dizzy. She clutched the fabric of his shirt, trying to bring him closer and steady herself at the same time, trying to convey all the desperate longing and fear she couldn’t put into words silently through their kiss.

He pulled away, breathless, cradling her cheek in his palm. “I used to believe Mystra’s forgiveness was worth dying for. Or that the only way forward was to challenge her. But I was wrong. You showed me just how much I have to live for, here, on mortal soil. With you, I forget my goddess. With you, I want to live. With you…I even forget my greater ambitions. You put the very stars to shame, Dani.”

She felt her breath hitch as her eyes widened slightly. Of all the things she was expecting to hear him say, those words were not it. She searched his face for signs that he’d changed his mind, and found him staring back at her earnestly, dark eyes full of love and longing. For the first time that day, she dared herself to hope, just a little.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said. “And I could never leave you behind. Godly power, I can live without, but you? You’re everything.”

She stared, half-disbelieving, but his gaze was sincere and warm and so full of love she couldn’t help but be convinced. She curled her fingers around his wrist, not sure what to say next, but he merely smiled, grateful and tender, and brushed her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“I love you,” he murmured.

“I love you, too,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him again.

He guided her off the seat of the boat down onto the floorboards, dismissing the benches with an idle wave of his hand to make room for them to lay down at the bottom of the boat. There he kissed her, breathing her in as naturally as if she were air, and she lost herself in his warm touch. The galaxies above swirled dream-like and slow overhead as their fingers found each others’ buttons and laces, their clothes slipping off with practiced ease, until both lay bare beneath the infinite sky, her pale blue skin tinged a faint shade of lavender by the light of the pink-purple stardust.

She combed her fingers through his hair as he kissed all over her, sighing and arching her back as he worshipped her body more than he’d ever done before, as if he were making up for a litany of mistakes. She could scarcely think straight yet she tried to encourage him with her words, breathing out her love and pleasure in half-lucid lyric fragments and shaky swears alike. He lavished love on her with his mouth, his teeth, his tongue, his hands, until at last he joined their bodies together and she unraveled. Every tangled thought and emotion unwound itself as pleasure coursed through her veins until they were both left spent, lying on the floor of the softly glowing boat, and she was left with nothing but her love for him and a dazed sense of amazement that here, amid the infinite expanse of stars and magic, he had chosen her.

Some time later, as they lay gazing up at the stars, with Gale fingers threading idly through her long, loose hair, he turned and brushed a kiss against her head. “I’m sorry for upsetting you,” he said quietly. “I had no idea you felt so strongly about…well.”

She wrapped her arms more tightly around him. “I love you, Gale. I don’t want to lose you to anything. Not even this. As pretty as it is. You’ll have to forgive me for being so selfish with you.”

He chuckled, kissing her hair again. “There’s nothing at all to forgive, my love. Be selfish with me.”

They contemplated the stars and auroras that surrounded their little boat, words lost between them for a moment, until at last Gale, trailing gentle fingers down her arm, began to speak again softly.

“I conjured this illusion often during my confinement in Waterdeep,” he said. “An escape for the mind, where there was none for the body. It was easier to stare at the celestial abyss than recognize the emptiness within myself. Easier to pretend my destiny lay among such stars, than work to salvage a life on solid ground.”

He turned his head and she lifted her chin so she could meet his gaze again, her heart aching for him. She could all too easily imagine him locked in his tower, conjuring images of these galaxies and planes, desperate to be outside the walls that enclosed him for a year. Longing to be back among infinite beauty, rather than confined and seemingly trapped in a small set of rooms on the mundane Material Plane. She had thought the illusion he had conjured of his home in Waterdeep was charming and wonderful…but she could see how it must have felt like a prison to him.

“You changed all that,” he murmured, gazing down at her. “You see me as I am, and do not find me wanting.”

He seemed a little awed by that, but not disbelieving. She smiled and sat up, straddling his hips and taking his hands, lifting them up to her lips for a kiss to each one. Her long hair trailed down around her, the ends brushing against her thighs, against his bare chest and stomach. She held his hands, weaving their fingers together, and pushed his arms up so that they stretched over his head, leaning in to kiss him sweetly, her lips lingering on his.

“I will never find you wanting,” she murmured against his lips.

“Nor I, you,” he said. He freed one hand from her grip to move her hair from her face, gathering it all over one shoulder so the light of the galaxies and stars beyond could shine on her face again. “With these stars as my witness, I swear—you will always be enough for me.”

She stilled at those words, letting them wash over her and settle into her skin, into her chest, processing them. His words, the emotion behind them, the loving determination in his eyes, all of his was genuine, heartfelt, and deeply, deeply meant. It threatened to reduce Dani to tears again, but this time she swallowed them back and kissed him again, letting him know with every ounce of her being what that promise meant to her.

She thought she could never love him more than she already did. But hearing that promise from him—that she would always be enough for him—made her heart practically ache with love for him. She smothered his face with kisses until she was breathless, and he in turn tried to catch or return every one until he gave up and allowed himself to be smothered with a chuckle.

“I love you, Gale Dekarios,” she said at last, still hovering over him, her hair a curtain on one side of them both.

He smiled up at her and reached up to brush her cheek. “And I love you, Meridan Zavrai. I always will.”

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale #gale dekarios #gale x tav #dani #meridan zavrai #my fic #oc #the order of events is actually what happened in my game #from rolan to the annals to lorroakan to cazador #like it was a wild day #and then when gale said 'i don't think i deserve you at times'#i thought ht had like...learned his lesson #nope #so anyway here is a rewrite #no edits we die like men

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