#ended up dozing off this evening because i was exhausted and i had the first nightmare i've had in a lil while

[heartpascal]

Pls tell me there's a part two for "if the door wasn't shut". I need Joel and Ellie to come back and reader avoiding them and not speaking to them and just walking away when they try to talk to her. Ofc happy ending but make them work for that forgiveness

i would let you in

▹ — joel miller x platonic!f!reader

▹ — summary: part two of if the door wasnt shut — after being abandoned in jackson, tommy and maria take care of you. joel and ellie’s return hurts far more than their departure.

▹ — a/n: i have no idea how the timeline is gonna work out in the show so ignore that!!! i went off on a bit of a tangent in this one… oops. anyways. let me know if you guys do want a part three!!!

▹ — warnings: angst!!!! AND MORE ANGST!!! oh yeah and a bit of angst too. father figure joel (except he’s failed that role for reader), arguments, throwing of objects, general hopeless feelings, sadness, not proofread, also you WILL like pottery and ceramics sorry!! almost father figure tommy….

▹ — tags: @faceache111 @viknowsbest @inkiqayo @wrcn9fvlcver @pedropascalsrealgf @httpjiikook @issybee0611 @liableperfections @dksjskx @canpillowscry @beeblisss @lizzylynch1 @randomstory56 @hiphopdancer101universe (once again just tagged everyone who asked for pt 2! pls let me know if you want the tag removed<;3)

masterlist | PART THREE

howl’s song associations!

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Everything in this world felt empty. It all felt so… weightless. Like you could pick something up, and it would have no meaning. Sometimes, you felt that way, too.

You couldn’t help it.

It was like everything you felt had drained from your very being, leaving your deflated and aching and empty.

But the emptiness sometimes masked as rage, and then you were throwing all of these meaningless things at meaningless walls, sick to death of hearing yourself yell about things that didn’t matter, that held no weight.

It didn’t matter what it was, it just gave you the shortest reprieve of feeling something, of feeling angry. It burned hot in your veins, and for a moment, you were full of fire. Until your oxygen ran out, and the fire spluttered before it died away, leaving you panting and exhausted and empty once more.

You knew it concerned Maria. Knew that she didn’t need this, the stress of having some kid that lacked the ability to even feel remorseful for breaking the plate that she had only just given you. She should’ve been focusing on the impending arrival of her actual kid, not feeling responsible for the one her brother-in-law had practically dumped on her doorstep.

But you didn’t ask for this either, did you?

Even when you had tried to leave, tried to get a horse out of its stall in the stable, tried to follow the only people you believed you could trust, you couldn’t.

You just about remember the way Tommy had pulled you back from where you had been frantic, trying to untie the horse in a frenzy as your chest heaved, the abandonment trying to deep into your bones. You had coughed and gasped, doing everything you could to try and get this feeling out of you, but nothing had worked.

Then, you had woken up on Tommy and Maria’s couch, the two of them beginning to doze off as the night crept up on them. It had been Maria who had jolted awake first, even when you just rustled the blanket they’d placed over you.

You didn’t want her pity then, had outright refused it. The two adults had tried to comfort you, but you had made it so difficult — because why should you make it easy? Your trust had been burnt up, your tether had reached its end, and you felt… hopeless.

There was nobody left for you in this world — and you wouldn’t let Maria or Tommy try to change that, even with their consistent attempts at being there for you.

They had relented to letting you remain in the house across the road, despite wanting you to remain in their home. They brought over meals every day, whether it be from the pub in town, or from their own kitchen.

Luckily for you, they hadn’t mentioned the cuts to your hand, the ones you had gotten from scraping up shards of ceramic off of the floor, after yet another one of your meltdowns. Sometimes, the only way you could actually feel that anger, was to let it out. And considering they hadn’t given you any of your weapons back, throwing plates and bowls and cups against all available surfaces had to suffice.

It had been weeks — you were sure of it. As much as you tried not to take count, the absence of the only people you had left made the days and nights pass slowly, so slowly that it was just a matter of how many days had you been throwing things? Or how many nights had remained restless?

It was on the twenty-sixth day that Maria had enough, seeing the remains of yet another plate in the garbage around the back of your house.

“Okay, if you’re gonna keep breaking these, you’re gonna have to start replacing them.” Maria told you, voice sterner than it had been in a long time. She’d tried the gentle approach, tried being soft, tried letting you heal in your own way, but it didn’t seem to be working. So strict Maria it would have to be. “Come with me.”

You followed her, with some reluctance, but you knew you didn’t have much of a choice. After all, as much as you hated to admit it, you relied on her. Without her, you were screwed.

So, you shrugged on your coat, and followed her as the snow crunched underneath your boots. She took turns so quickly, with so little hesitation, that you were almost surprised. You’d been in Jackson for a few weeks, and this didn’t feel familiar to you.

She tugged open a shop door, coughing away the dust that shot up at her, and felt the wall for a light switch, humming in victory when the store lit up.

You looked around, confused. You didn’t have money to buy new plates… and this place looked empty. You turned to Maria, watching as she wiped the dust off of a circular… machine?

“Well, it’s not the cleanest,” She acknowledged, “But there’s some supplies left out back, and the boys know where to get more clay.”

“Clay? What— Maria, what is this place?” You asked, running your finger against the dusty grooves of a wooden table, feeling bumps of dried something, and leaning forward to inspect the tools that had been abandoned on the table.

“Old ceramics shop,” She told you, opening the door to the back section of the shop and opening a window to let the air breathe. “Hasn’t been a big priority, really. Came in to get some plates when some of the houses had none, but nobody’s been all to bothered ‘bout fixing it up.”

“So, why am I here?” You raised your eyebrows, starting to get annoyed.

“Because, you’re gonna fix it up. If you’re gonna keep breaking all my damn plates, you’re gonna have to replace ‘em.” Maria replied, opening the windows at the front of the shop, and twisting the sign on the door from open, to closed.

“I… I don’t know shit about making plates.” You offered up quietly, fingers picking at your nails as you tried to get out of this. You did feel… almost guilty, about her plates, but at the same time, it was all you could do.

“Well, no better time to learn. Got some books around here, that’ll help, I’m sure. You can figure this out.” Maria said, your name falling softly from her lips, and you missed the other thing she was doing, which would be giving you something to do, giving you a purpose.

You huffed, feeling something nervous brewing in your stomach, but nodded at Maria before she left. You looked around the shop, eyebrows creasing as you realised you had a lot of work to do.

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Tommy’s face was a sight, the first time he walked into the old ceramics shop.

When Maria had come to him, nearing tears in her excitement, telling him that you had finally done the ceramics shop some good, he hadn’t known exactly what to expect. He was well aware how much time you spent in that old place, and he had scolded you over it numerous times, saying the dust would do you no favours… or whatever.

The two of them knew that really, the ceramics shop had done you some good, but Tommy didn’t quite realise how much effort you had really put into it. Sure, it had been more than a few weeks now, but you were on your own in fixing it up.

So when you opened the door, something so close to a smile on your face, he was surprised. Shocked, even.

The surfaces were clean, for a start, which was nothing short of a miracle in his eyes. The furniture had been put back into place, not counting the pile of rotted wood that was outside, unsalvageable. Old ceramic work had been cleaned and put on display, alongside two names — the artists who made them, Tommy realised quickly.

And then there were the plates sat on the counter. New, slightly misshapen, and there was a box next to them, already filled with old newspaper.

“To replace the ones I broke.” You told him, when he looked at you, eyebrows furrowed. Tommy couldn’t help the smile that grew on him, something proud in his chest.

He hadn’t known you for nearly as long as Joel had, but god, he could recognise it in you immediately. The resemblance to his niece, just barely peeking out when you didn’t bury that part of you. He could see why Joel had gotten so… attached. Even if you didn’t resemble Sarah within your mannerisms in a way that was uncanny, you were a good kid.

Despite all the plate-throwing, name-calling, yelling and tears he’d seen from you, he knew you were good. He couldn’t blame you for your reactions, not with the way you had been left behind. And Tommy — he could understand why Joel did it, far more than you could, at least, but he recognised the pain in you.

Even if Joel did it as a result of his need to protect you, it didn’t come across like that in your eyes. From your view, he had taken the girl he knew for a couple months, and dumped you with his younger brother. He didn’t want you, didn’t care about you. It hurt. It hurt and it burnt your chest when you thought of it, and the only thing that made you feel a different kind of fire was creating your own destruction.

But this, this was different.

Tommy could see it in your face. This was such a drastic change from the girl who did everything she could to destroy what she got her hands on. This was a girl who finally got to create.

And sure, in a box in the corner of the room, there were the shattered remains of your failed attempts, but it hadn’t felt quite the same.

You thought of it this way; by throwing his and Maria’s dinnerware, you were destroying something that belonged to someone else. It was familiar to you. Trying to create the pain that caved your chest in, within another person. And yes, it was wrong, on so many levels, but you couldn’t help it. You just wanted somebody to understand.

When you had taken that first circular sculpture out of the kiln, and thrown it as hard as you could, it almost… hurt. These things were an extension of you. You had shaped these with your own hands, folded them into what you saw fit, so why should you destroy them? How could you? You made them this way.

So you had hidden the rest of the failed attempts, shoved into a cupboard in the back section of the shop, and had piled up your best attempts for Tommy and Maria to take home.

“You’ve been busy,” Tommy said, his eyebrows raised as he walked his way around the old shop, noticing you had even cleaned the two-decades worth of grime from the windows. “These are good, you been working on anythin’ else?”

“Tried a mug,” You offered, shrugging, “Didn’t really go so well. Neither did the bowl.”

“Work in progress,” Tommy replied, knocking your shoulder with his elbow. “Thanks, kid. You didn’t have to.”

“Actually, Maria’s instructions.” You said, but amusement was taking over your voice as you said the words. It was true — she had told you to replace what you had broken. But you hadn’t expected to enjoy it so much.

Tommy laughed, picking up the pile and placing it in the box you’d prepared, three layers of duct tape going either way across the bottom of it. “Well, it’s appreciated, anyway. You ‘round for dinner tonight?”

You shrugged again, making your way behind the counter to shuffle through some things in the back room absentmindedly, rolling your eyes when Tommy followed. You didn’t mind him or Maria hanging around as much as you used to, but you kept them at a distance.

“Come ‘round.” Tommy said then, instead, no longer posing it as a question. They’d tried to get you to move in, take up the spare room that would eventually go to their unborn child, but you’d strongly disagreed.

“You cooking? Or Maria?” You asked him, eyebrow raised as you turned to look at him, leaning back against the counter.

“Maria,” Tommy answered, rolling his eyes at your snicker of amusement. “She tries not to let me within ten feet of the damn oven.”

You couldn’t blame her. On the days that Tommy had brought food over to that big empty house opposite their own, it had been… an experience. Luckily for the two of you, Maria had agreed to go out on less patrols as the weeks passed by, sharing some of Tommy’s nervousness for what could happen.

“Not surprised.” You commented, a small grin on your face. You looked around the room, picking at your fingernails before you spoke up. “Hey, I was thinkin’—”

“That’s dangerous.”

You ignored him, only responding with yet another eye roll, “Get a bed in here, some drawers… could be a good spot for me.”

“Somethin’ wrong with Rancher Street?” He asked, concerned as he stood up straighter, looking around the room, not quite sure why you’d want to leave the house that provided you with plenty of space, warmth, and running water.

“No— No, there’s nothing wrong with it. Just… pretty big space for just one person, y’know?” You said, and gestured towards the door at the other side of the room, “This place has got a bathroom, anyway, so. And I mean, I always eat at yours or at the hall.”

Tommy frowned, contemplating.

Though they would’ve preferred you to have stayed in their home, Tommy and Maria relented when you had insisted on staying in that house. In the end, they had figured, what’s the harm? After all, once Joel and Ellie returned — which Tommy was sure would come, eventually, — they’d be living in that house, too.

That was the point. The house on Rancher Street was reserved for the three of you. Tommy had hoped, secretly, that you staying there, meant you wanted to fix things up, once the others returned.

You looked to him, when he was quiet for a moment too long, and he cleared his throat. “‘Spose it wouldn’t hurt. Bit of a trek from here, to ours, though.”

“Tommy, when I was…” You trailed, looking away, “I used to walk miles in a day. This short walk won’t hurt me.”

“You got a point,” He acknowledged, tipping his head forward, and ignoring your unfinished sentence. “But man, Maria’s not gonna be happy.” He thought of his wife, waddling her way over when she was near-ready to burst, and shook his head with a grin. “For you, I guess she’ll get on with it.”

“Shut up,” You said, amusement clear in your tone. “Now get outta here. I got some more fixin’ up to do.”

Tommy put his hands up in surrender, before slipping the box of plates into his hands, yelling out a, “See you later!” As he left.

You shook your head, rolling your eyes with a begrudgingly fond expression as you took another look around. There was a table that wouldn’t do you any good, too big, so that’d have to go. You wiped your hands against your tattered trousers, and sighed.

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The lights in Jackson were warm, and filled the streets you walked through as the night slowly took over the day. It was nice, being able to see in front of you as the sky darkened. You tried not to get used to it, but knew you were settling.

It was hard not to — especially after Maria had officially declared that the shop was yours, for whatever you wanted to do with it.

You tried not to think of Boston, usually, but the last time you had had something that was truly yours, was there. It was hard to forget the things you had stashed away, hidden underneath floorboards that were concealed by the only half-decent mattress that Tess and Joel could find.

Thinking of that life was painful, especially when realising that it was unreachable. You hadn’t known it, when you’d left Boston QZ, but you would never get to return to that home that you’d built. To those things you had owned. To the family that had grown its roots in that crappy old apartment.

It was something strange, really. To think that all you had, perhaps all you ever would have, belonged to this town. You were reliant on its walls keeping you safe. At least that much was similar to life in Boston.

People were happier here, though.

You probably couldn’t include yourself in that statement, but for the most part, it was true. The streets remained lit through the dark nights, and you could go out for a walk at any time of the day, with no consequences. Which was a bit of luck, considering that Tommy and Maria always ate late on in the day.

Turning on to their street, you frowned, because the lights in the house opposite Tommy and Maria’s — the one you had yet to move out of — were turned on. And you always turned them off before you left.

You hurried into Tommy and Maria’s, shutting the door tightly behind you and kicking your shoes off in the doorway. “Guys?” You called out, hanging your coat beside the doorway and making your way toward where you heard their responding shouts in the kitchen. “What’s going on?” You asked, upon entering the room.

The glance they shared did not go unnoticed by you.

You raised your eyebrows as they looked to you, seeming almost… nervous. “Did you already tell her?” You asked Tommy, and saw the way Maria’s face immediately flashed with confusion.

“Tell me what?” She asked, turning to Tommy whilst being conscious to continue stirring whatever it was that she was cooking.

“I didn’t—”

“Then who’s in the house?” You interrupted, feeling like your stomach was sinking. You’d thought it would be strange for them to immediately place new people in the house, given that you hadn’t quite packed up the few things you had left there, and the shop wasn’t quite ready. But what other explanation was there?

“Okay, let’s just press pause for a second.” Maria said, shaking her head and looking to her husband. “What haven’t you told me?”

“Well,” He began, scratching the back of his neck, and gesturing towards you, “The shop’s lookin’ real good. And she was hoping she could, y’know, get a bed in there, and stay there.”

“So you haven’t moved new people into the house?” You asked her, feeling your stomach swoop down further as you spoke, and your mouth was going dry. “Then, does that mean—”

Tommy held a placating hand toward you, and it just told you all you needed to know.

“When?” You asked, feeling like your fingertips were burning and your chest was going to explode with how tightly it had constricted. They hesitated, so you repeated, more forcefully, “When?”

“No more than a couple hours ago.” Maria said, putting her spoon down on the counter and stepping forward, frowning when you turned away from her. “The guys on the gate spotted ‘em. Pretty banged up, but they’ll be okay. Sent them in to get some rest.”

“And you didn’t come and tell me?” You demanded, though your voice was weak and you had to hold your hand against your chest to try and steady your breathing.

“Kid, we—”

“Don’t call me that!” You snapped, immediately. Tommy sighed through his nose, nodding his head in something close to defeat. “I don’t want to see either of them. I’m not going in there.”

“You don’t have to do anything right now,” Maria said, frowning at your expression. “You can stay here, tonight, and we can sort the shop out for you tomorrow, but…”

Tommy placed a hand against Maria’s shoulder as she trailed off, “We were thinkin’, maybe you guys could talk it out. It’s been a couple months, now.”

“What’s there to talk about?” You questioned, voice sharp and paining your throat as you spoke. “They left me behind. Think that says everything, doesn’t it?”

It was all over their faces, the fact that they wanted to say more, wanted to say something in some kind of defence of the other Miller man, but they knew you. The married couple were more than aware that anything they said would mean nothing to you. You were like Joel, in that way, Tommy had said before. Stubborn.

They nodded, almost in sync, and Maria turned back to the stove, to continue cooking as she had been before.

“Would you get my stuff for me? When you get the chance?” You asked Tommy, who nodded his head, a frown prominent on his face.

“I’ll go first thing.” He replied, secretly hoping that come morning, you’d magically want to make amends with his brother. He knew it wasn’t likely.

“Thank you.” You said, feeling like heat was crawling up your neck the longer you stood there. The fire in your stomach was fading away, just leaving you feeling uncomfortably warm as you stood in the room. “I’m gonna go get some fresh air.” You nodded to the back door, and headed out once they acknowledged your words.

You stepped out, feeling the muggy air cool your lungs. It was colder than you’d expected, especially considering the way heat seemed to cling to everything in these parts, and you had to grind your teeth to stop the shiver that went down your spine.

It was only when Maria called to tell you dinner was ready that you stepped back inside, rubbing your hands against your arms to try and rid your skin of goosebumps.

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Tommy had moved you into the shop the very next day, constructing a makeshift bed frame from whatever wood the town could spare, and bringing a mattress from an out-of-use house. You could tell he had wanted to say something, but he held himself back.

Now, it had been almost two weeks since they had returned to Jackson. And you’d been doing a fantastic job of avoiding any sight of them.

It hadn’t been difficult, in the beginning, with them taking time to rest and recover from their journey — or so Maria had told you. But it got harder as the days went on. They were beginning to explore the town, to join in on jobs, to eat where you would usually eat. It was getting annoying.

For the past few months, you’d found it so hard to live without them, but now, you realised it was much harder to live with them around. Hell, you’d even had to avoid Tommy and Maria’s on occasion, because you’d catch yourself starving before being in a room with the two of them, willingly.

Tommy had mentioned that they’d asked about you, that they’d been wondering where you were, but you didn’t need to say much for him to realise that you didn’t want them privy to any information about you. After all, they’d lost that right when they’d abandoned you here, in a town full of strangers, with no concern of what it might do to you.

You were getting angry, the longer it went on, the suspense of when you’d finally catch glimpse of them was eating you up inside. It was like life before Jackson, that feeling of being constantly on edge, of checking behind your shoulder consistently as time passed by.

It was safe to say that you weren’t happy.

You’d tried to keep yourself busy in the shop, in the little safe space in Jackson that was tucked away, belonging only to you, but things seemed tense outside of Jackson, and with Tommy taking on more patrols, Maria had been left alone an awful lot.

Tommy had asked you not to tell her, and you had absolutely no plans to, but he had asked you to hang around with her a bit more.

Partly for her own good, and mostly for his peace of mind. A little part, which he refused to tell you, was that it was also for your own good. Taking your mind off of Joel and Ellie was the best he could do for you, and this was the only way he knew how.

So, you had spent more time than you could’ve imagined at their house. Ending up falling asleep on their couch more times than you could count, with Maria insisting on waiting for Tommy to get home from his late-night patrols. He often came home to the two of you soundly asleep against the couch cushions, and you often woke up in a different position to what you fell asleep in, a blanket covering you and keeping away the slight chill.

It was one of those mornings, and you were in desperate need for a shower and some fresh clothes. You wrote a note for the two of them, knowing it was far too early for them to be up, given the way the sun was only just rising, to let them know you were going back to the shop.

Your feet were dragging with every step you took, and shuffling your jacket around your shoulders took more effort than you had expected. It was definitely going to be a long day, especially since you had promised Maria that you’d help her cook dinner later, considering she was still very against letting Tommy near the stove.

The morning air woke you up the slightest bit, but the chill of the breeze had you rubbing your hands together, regretting not bringing gloves, though you knew that later on it’d be far too warm for them.

You heard your name, and froze where you stood, hands clutched together, one foot in front of the other.

It was like your heart stopped the second you heard it, like it was being squeezed so tightly it couldn’t beat. The sensation made your chest ache, and you grit your teeth to move past the pain that had become all too familiar.

You heard him stop, his footsteps pausing as he hesitated behind you. You stood still for a moment more, before stepping away as he made a move to continue. He said your name again, trying to call you to a stop once more, but you hurried your pace, checking behind you after you had turned the corner, lucky enough to find nothing there.

A sigh escaped you, relaxing your tense shoulders just a fraction as you made a quick journey back to the shop.

You tried not to notice the anxiety balled in your chest when you finally made it. The way it was twisting up, pulling tighter on your lungs and leaving you feeling breathless as you thought too long on the slightest of interactions.

Despite not seeing his face, hearing Joel’s voice made their presence all too real, and you felt… overwhelmed. Nervous. Scared, maybe.

It was too much.

Why did they have to come back? Especially when you knew they hadn’t come back for you, but for the comforts of Jackson.

This was the only place that resembled the world before, the only place where you could feel something close to safe, and you could be comfortable. This town was a place for family, and it was clear that you didn’t have that, anymore.

Joel and Ellie had returned, but they weren’t your family. They had left you behind, to find your own way, whilst they went on an adventure of their own, creating a network of roots to settle in something close to a family of their own. You wondered if Ellie reminded Joel of his daughter, but tried to put the thought to rest as quickly as it arose.

You stepped into the shower, and tried to let the water wash away all thoughts of Joel and Ellie and family.

Later, when you stood at Maria’s side, stirring a pot on the stove as she took a moment to rest, complaining of the way her child was making her back ache. She told you about how it made her feel incredibly old, but you could see the fact that she appreciated it, as something of a reminder of the fact she was still here.

You had hummed along with her tangent, paying attention to her words but not feeling up to speaking all too much. Of course, Maria had noticed. She certainly prided herself on her observation skills.

“What’s up?” She asked softly, a strange contrast the the harsh voice she had just been speaking with as she had criticised her body for the pain it felt. Her hand was placed against the bump that has grown significantly, and you knew she was feeling maternal once again.

“It’s nothing.” You told her, because it was, wasn’t it? Joel and Ellie didn’t care about you, so why would you care about them?

“Mhm,” She hummed, raising her brows at you, “Sure it is. Got nothing to do with the two living across the street?”

You shook your head, continuing to stir the food, and tried your best to let out the sigh in your chest as a normal breath. It didn’t work, and Maria rolled her eyes at your denial of something that was so obvious. You didn’t say anything else on the matter, and couldn’t help but feel relieved when she finally let it rest. The two of you finished cooking, with you doing most of the work, and her giving all of the instructions.

But hey, you were much better than Tommy was, despite your inexperience.

It was when the door was knocked whilst you and Maria sat in their living room that you felt that tightening of your chest once again. She glanced to you, taking in the way your limbs had immediately tensed, all of your muscles straining like you weren’t sure whether to bolt, or stay completely still.

She raised a hand, telling you to wait where you were, and made her way to the front door after much groaning in her attempts to get up from the sofa cushions. You refrained from telling her that you were surprised she could manage it on her own, considering the size of her baby bump.

“Hey, Maria.” A familiar voice spoke, and your hands clenched into fists against your thighs, “Tommy in?” Joel asked, remaining outside the house.

“No, uh— he’s on a late patrol, today.” Maria responded, her voice much lighter when she spoke to Joel than it had been when the three of you had first arrived to Jackson.

“Ah,” Joel sighed, and you could hear him taking a step back on the porch, disappointment lacing his tone. It was too familiar. “Mind if I pop by, later on?” He asked, far more hopeful than you had ever heard him.

“Uh…” Maria trailed, and you knew she was looking back in the hallway, unsure if you’d be staying overnight. The wooden floorboards of the porch creaked as Joel stepped forward again, and you heard Maria shushing him as you clenched your teeth together. “Not now, Joel. It’s not a good time. I’ll tell Tommy to stop by yours.”

He sighed, and it was like you were back in Boston, with how heavy he sounded.

It was the same way he would sigh when you got too excited over something, like he was disappointed. Back then, you had thought it had been because he couldn’t guarantee anything for you. Now, you had no idea. You had always believed you had known him and Tess almost too well, but over the past few months, you realised just how wrong you were. Back in Boston, if someone had told them what would happen when you arrived in Jackson, you would’ve laughed in their face. Would’ve been so certain that Joel would never leave your side. You had no idea how wrong you were.

You swallowed, your throat feeling tight, and your tongue feeling like it was too big for your mouth as you heard the door shut, and Maria rounded the corner with a tight smile on her face.

With your heart pounding, you looked at her where she stood, and stopped her just before she could sit down, blurting: “Can you cut my hair?”

Her surprise was evident, but Maria nodded her head, and you tried to breathe through the pain in your lungs as you followed her to the kitchen.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

It was week four, and Joel was getting antsy.

Every time he sat down, he found his fingers tapping an unknown rhythm against his trousers, his legs bouncing up and down as he nervously scanned the room, as though you’d appear from around the corner at any second. Of course, it never happened.

Each time he arrived back to the house on Rancher Street, Ellie’s head perked up, the most hopeful he’d seen her since before winter, and he had to shake his head. Had to watch her expression fall.

When he had seen you leaving Tommy and Maria’s, far too early in the morning for anyone to be awake, something had risen in his chest. He knew it was stupid, that he was a fool for thinking you might speak to him after what he did, but he had hoped so badly that you might just understand.

It was the closest he had been to you in weeks, and he hadn’t even managed to see your face up close, had only just about seen a glimpse of it when you had dragged yourself from Tommy’s porch. The moment he had gotten close enough to reach for you, you had bolted, leaving his hand halfway raised into the air as he stared after you, wondering if he should follow you, or let you go.

When he’d arrived at Tommy and Maria’s one evening, hoping to talk to Tommy about his anxieties, he’d found something else. They were shielding you.

And yes, he had asked them to protect you, had trusted them with something he had never even fully trusted himself with, but god. Joel had never expected that they would protect you from him.

But now, here he was, standing in front of an old shop that had likely seen better days, two decades ago. Ellie was by his side, her hand gripping the sleeve of his coat tightly, before she released it to knock loudly against the shop door.

He had half-expected for you to not answer.

Seeing your face, properly, for the first time in months was not the moment Joel had hoped for it to be. Not when your expression had immediately fallen from something of confusion to anger, to something defensive.

“Hi.” Joel breathed, feeling like he should really kick himself for the pathetic attempt at a greeting. Ellie was close to trembling at his side, trying to stay indifferent, but even from the corner of his eye he could see that hope rising in her expression.

“What do you want?” You snapped at them, wanting nothing more than to close the door in their faces, to slam it shut and lock it, to never open it again. But you refrained, something in your chest balling tighter, but you couldn’t help the desire that arose for something. An explanation, maybe. A good enough reason for you to forgive them, perhaps.

Joel jumped in before Ellie could, saying, “Plates!” He saw Ellie’s head whip towards him, a dumbfounded expression painted across her face. He watched you blink in surprise, and saw your expression go towards indifference as you huffed, and moved away from the door, allowing him to push it open a bit more, pulling Ellie in with him. She closed it behind her.

The silence lingers as you busy yourself with fortifying a box, feeling bitterness creeping up your throat. You thought about why they needed plates, and could not grind your teeth together, somewhat hoping that the scratches and dents in the kitchen counters couldn’t be fixed.

“Listen,” Your head snapped up to him, knowing what came next, and saw the way he backed down, the word kid dying on his lips. He cleared his throat as you went back to taping the cardboard box. “We were hopin’… that, uh, we could all have a talk. Clear things up.”

“I don’t know, Joel,” You began, the bitterness falling off of your tongue with every word, “You guys leaving seemed clear enough to me.”

He hated how much older you sounded.

“We left because we had to, not because we wanted to.” Joel defended, immediately, feeling the hope that had been flickering in his chest for the past four weeks sputter out.

“I remember trying to come with you,” You said offhandedly, keeping your eyes on the cardboard box as you put the final third piece of duct tape across the bottom. “You said: ‘me and Ellie. Not you.’ Remember?”

Ellie’s expression fell further, somehow, and Joel gaped for a moment, flashing back to the way your own face had fallen at his words.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” He said your name, almost like a plead, and frowned when you just turned to go towards the back side of the room, beside a closed door. You ignored it, collecting some of the better looking plates that had been stacked up there. “I didn’t want you to get hurt. I know you never asked for any of this.”

“You’re right, I didn’t. I wanted to stay with you. That’s what I wanted. No matter what might’ve happened, I just wanted to be with you two. You took that from me.” You said, voice harsher than Joel had ever heard it, even from when he and Tess had first taken you in. Remembering that version of you was painful, because he saw no resemblance within the you that stood before him.

Ellie spoke up then, her eyebrows furrowed inwards as she became something far too close to angry as she said your name, “You have no idea what we’ve been through—”

“You’re right.” You cut her off, placing the stack of plates in the cardboard box with a loud thud, “I don’t. And who’s fault is that?”

You looked between the two of them, as if you were expecting the answer, but Joel couldn’t bring himself to say it. You were so grown up, and he couldn’t understand it. It had only been a few months.

At their silence, you scoffed, and shoved the box towards them, watching as Joel instinctively shot his hand out to prevent it from falling off of the edge of the counter. He took the box, feeling like it was far too heavy for what it was, but perhaps that was just the conversation.

“I want you guys to go now.” You said, firm, despite the way your voice tried to shake. You wouldn’t let your voice tremor, not in front of them. Not when they didn’t deserve your devastation.

Joel’s face fell, a common theme in each of your recent interactions, and couldn’t help the way he felt sick to his stomach. All those months ago, you had been asking to leave with them, and now here you were, looking at him with eyes that he didn’t recognise, telling him to leave.

“Come on, Ellie.” He said reluctantly, turning away from where you stood, chin held high.

“No!” Ellie replied loudly, her lip trembling as she looked between you and Joel, like she was expecting something to magically repair the rift between you. Unfortunately, this world was real, and it was ugly, and you weren’t sure that fixing things was even possible. “We— We can’t just give up.” She said, pleadingly, looking to Joel to fix things, like she was so used to him doing.

But Joel knew that this was something he couldn’t fix so easily. “We’re not giving up.” He responded then, training his gaze on you, where your eyebrows had furrowed and you had turned your face away from them.

“You should.” You told him, your own trembling lip matching Ellie’s, before you turned away fully, making the short few steps and entering the back room, shutting the door tightly behind you.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

“You asshole!” You yelled, the moment you saw Tommy stood in the kitchen doorway of his home, with him having turned to face you at the sound of his front door slamming open. He looked confused, but you didn’t fall for that expression, even as he said your name in an even more confused tone.

You stormed over to him, pushing your hands against his chest and feeling him take a bracing step back, not stopping you. He held his hands up by his side, surrendering once again, and you couldn’t stop your eyes from stinging with tears.

“How could you fucking do that to me?” You asked almost desperately, pushing your palm against his shoulder again, and then you felt Maria step around him, place a hand toward you that you flinched back from.

“Do what?” Tommy questioned, dumbfounded, and holding a hand up toward Maria, who backed off at your blatant dismissal of comfort.

“Tell them about my shop!”

Tommy’s face became one of realisation, and Maria whacked a hand against his chest. He immediately looked guilty a moment after the realisation, and held his hands out towards you.

“I let it slip, I know, but I didn’t realise he’d noticed. I swear, I wouldn’t tell him that purposely. He came ‘round?” Tommy spoke, frowning when you took a step away from his hands as they reached for you. He couldn’t help but feel like Joel had unravelled all the trust he had built with you, and his frustration grew at the second realisation of the evening. You could only nod in response, your expression a mixture of anger and devastation. “I’m sorry, kiddo, I didn’t mean for that. Joel wants to fix things up, yeah, but—”

“Fix things? Tommy, how could he fix things?” You asked, your volume raising immediately as you cut him off. “Joel— He knew everything about me, and he chose to leave. He left me willingly! That isn’t… every time I see myself, I see those parts that he rejected. How do you fix that? Tell me how you fix that, and I’ll fucking do it, Tommy, but I can’t figure it out. How can you fix that? How can you forgive that?”

You were yelling, you knew you were, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Everything you had built in Jackson was shattering like those stupid plates in that stupid kitchen. Tears were falling down your face, and Tommy blurred away as your eyes continued to fill with them. It felt never ending, this whole situation did. How did you fix this? Could you?

“I don’t know.” Tommy admitted, feeling like his heart could tear from his chest as he looked at you, your breaths shaking as you tried to get through sobs, your face covered in tears, chest heaving. “But we’re going to figure this out. We’ve got you.”

He moved towards you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders when he realised you’d let him. He felt your arms tremble as they wrapped around him, and he stared past your head as he took notice of Joel frowning in the still-open doorway. They shared a look, and Tommy gave Joel an all too familiar expression, one that he used to give when Sarah would be upset. Too upset for anybody else but Joel to be present.

It felt strange, to Joel, not only to be on the receiving end of the look, but because it was concerning you. But what was he meant to do? How could he fix it?

Joel frowned, nodding at his younger brother, and closed their front door as he turned away, breathing out a sigh that felt far too heavy. He needed to figure this out.

“Come on,” Tommy said, after a few moments, when he was certain you hadn’t noticed Joel closing the door. He led you over to the sofa where Maria was waiting, and when you collapsed next to her, they held you between them until you fell asleep, face still wet from tears. “It’ll be okay.” He spoke, quietly, despite knowing you were asleep. He was half saying it to himself and Maria, too. They needed the reassurance just as much as you did.

Tommy decided then, that when you woke up in the morning, he would do his best to help you figure everything out. And as he shared a look with Maria, he knew that she’d be there, helping right at his side.

PART THREE

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller father figure #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #tommy miller angst #tommy miller father figure #tlou imagines #tlou one shot #tlou imagine #tlou angst #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal one shot #heartpascal writes

[37-drc89]

the way things go; lee minho

❁ nothing warms your heart more than his presence.

trope: roommates to lovers.

genre: comfort, slight angst, work exhaustion, happy ending.

summary: finally understanding that your failure doesn't scare him away.

warnings: blood, mention of overprotective parent, family problems, let me know if i should put anything more in here.

word count: 3,7k.

masterlist

note: this is very much my first fic here, like, ever. i'm still green in tumblr, any links and mostly making posts look good, but i'll eventually master it. i look forward to seeing your opinions and things i can change or make better, i'll appreciate every comment. and, please remember that english is not my first language! if you see any typo or something doesn't make sense, please inform me! thank you:)

Coming back home on Friday after whole week of working your ass off really feels like a walk of shame. You feel like everyone passing by can tell how awfully you did at your workplace today. And they wouldn't be wrong, the amount of scolds your boss threw in your direction through past few days is worryingly numerous.

Whether it was missing out on paper work your boss asked you to do for him, because you were so sure the deadline was set on the day after, or accidentially knocking off of your desk whole cup of hot, sweetened tea that later on you had to scrap off of the covering, under the strict eye of the middle aged man that scared you so much. Especially with the amount of misfortune that chased after you lately, like it was glued to you.

Cringe makes its way to your face. You're shuffling your way to your apartment, not really in a hurry, feet lazily dragged after you as you didn't even have any strenght to properly lift them off the ground. You most likely look like you've been partying for at least three nights in a row, but you can't find it in yourself to care about it. Not now.

Seeing the building in which your apartment is placed have never felt so relieving and you can feel your legs giving up under your weight just at the thought of splashing on the bed and dozing off. Vision of passing out on the sidewalk doesn't seem appealing to you, so you rush yourself to the door, typing entrance code and walking into the elevator, stairs not even crossing your mind. Your tired body slumps itself against the wall as you patiently wait to get to the 6th floor, finding relief in having something to support yourself on. Finally getting to the door you can't help but feel excited, tapping your feet happily just at the thought of making up every hour of sleep you've missed this week because of your busy schedule. You slide the door open and the very first thing reaching your ears is eager meowing, three fur balls appearing at the entrance immediately. You can't help but smile, kneeling to give each of them gentle head pat before taking off the coat and shoes. This truly felt like a bliss, like you've just slid off a bag of stones off your back. Sigh leaves your mouth, heading to the kitchen you turn on the kettle as your tea craving grows with every second. Soonie appears next to you, sitting at the table just across from you. You've grown so friendly with your roommate's Minho's cats that neither you nor him have any problem with kitties occupying places people normally wouldn't let them sit on.

Then you freeze for a second.

You look at Soonie.

Soonie looks at you.

Your brows furrow and the cat goes back to whatever he was doing previously.

Fuck.

Minho is coming home today. He's been away for past five days due to his business trip, that was probably exhaustion fogging your mind enough to forget about this. He's coming back today. And your apartment looks like a bomb has been detonated right in the middle of it all. You can't risk him seeing how messy you got, Minho is always the one to put stuff at the right place, making his bed no matter in how much of a hurry he's in, always the one to do the dishes and basically make everything look perfect. You can't see him disappointed in you for such an easy thing, he'll think you don't even gather your life together. Not like you do, but it's nothing in his business, you shouldn't become another one of his problems. He's just your roommate and the only thing you share and should take care of is apartment that is now in complete mess. You can blame it on your lack of time, barely spending any time at your place recently, but that won't help in current situation.

Quick glance at the time, 4:23 pm, you reach out for your phone to scroll up the conversation with your friend to make sure how fast you have to act.

He's back in town at 5 pm. Could this possibly get any worse?

You scold yourself internally for letting this whole situation happen. But you don't have time to think about this now, and as you turn off the kettle you speedrun to the livingroom, gathering scattered clothes from all around the place. You blame it on Monday when you got up so late you didn't even have time for brushing your hair and of course, the shirt you were looking for was nowhere to be found. Out of all things, it was the one you needed that day.

Then you pick up empty cans of soda, bottles of water and cups of coffee from the table and quickly throw them into the dishwasher. You blame it on Tuesday, the night you realised you have to write that fucking paperwork you got scolded for missing on Monday. So you sat there for hours, head empty, taking breaks only when your tired tears started wetting your pages, scared that all your miserable efforts will be ruined.

Rushing to Minho's room you pick up blanket and pillows from his floor. You blame it on Wednesday, the day you were already on the edge of breaking down and giving up on your job. Even though the boy is only a roommate for you, you've grown so used to his presence you started finding peace in it. Even after the worst day you knew that someone will always be there waiting at your apartment to serve you cup of hot chocolate and bowl of ramen, to take your turn of folding laundry or just listen to how appaling your day was. But he wasn't home and it left you all to yourself which was never the best idea. So, seeking for at least tiny bit of comfort, you slept on his floor. That sounds so fucking stupid and weird when you think about it now, but just the aura Minho left in his room made you feel a bit closer to him. Reminds you of every time he invited you over to play some online games for 12 year olds or spill any tea that happened at his work. Though, you never wanted to interfere his private space, so sleeping in his bed didn't even cross your mind. Floor was just sufficient for you, and you let your tears flow that night, just as much as you needed it. You know he would understand. He might seem cold to others, but you know he would. He already unwrapped his side of him to you letting you see that truly, inside, he's softer than anyone you know; It's all for Soonie, Doongie and Dori. They really do get the best of Minho.

Going back to the kitchen, you gather empty boxes of instant ramen, snacks and every ready shop food that you could possibly find at the convenience store. You blame it on the whole week of rushing, not even having time to eat a proper meal. You can feel it down your stomach, body demanding anything that could properly feed it and give it any strenght to function as it should be functioning. Honestly, you can't recall the last time you didn't feel sick. Lump in your throat was your loyal companion since a week ago, constant urge to throw up not leaving your body even when you were falling asleep and you know you'll have to appreciate normal, nutritions food more.

You run around the apartment holding a wet towel, wiping quickly every mirror hung on the walls as you know nothing pisses Minho more than fogged glass. So you try your best to do it carefully, just like he does it. Reaching the last mirror placed in the front hall you eagerly wipe it, aware of your lack of time. Then it all happens at once.

Shitty food, lack of sleep, liters of coffee and ungodly amount of stress feel like kicking in all at once, like it's been gathering in your exhausted body for the whole week just for this one moment that you needed to be fucking careful.

Vision blurry, feet suddently tripping over itself, mind going blank just for a second, but second is enough for you to try holding yourself onto the small table placed right under the mirror and shaking it so hard when sudden thump reach your ears, followed by loud sound of shattered glass. You don't want to look. Because you're fully aware of what just happened. You don't want to look but you do. Eyes landing on the remains of now broken vase, water all over the floor, flowers that were resting inside it now cut in half and completely soaked.

And it was Minho's favourite vase. The first and the last thing he always glanced at when leaving or coming back home, admiring its beauty, pretty patterns, unique shape and the prettiest flowers inside. Flowers that he got for his 25th birthday that passed not so long ago from his dearest best friend Jisung. Flowers that he was so happy to receive, first thing he did after coming home that day was showing them to you, proudly, ranting about how they perfectly suit the room. And you ruined it all.

Your body slides slowly on the wet floor, water soaking your pants on your knees and you support yourself on the palms of your hands not to completely fall into the mess. You feel small pieces of glass ripping open your delicate skin of your hands, small streams of blood making their way to the floor, mixing with spilled water but you couldn't care less. Elbows start to shake under the weight of your body, shoulders tensing and your head falls, your own quiet sobs reaching your ears. It quickly turns into uncotrollable groans and whines, tears now flowing down your face with no end, nose already full, loose hair stick to your now completely soaked cheeks.

And you blame it on yourself. You could seek for anything to put his all on, like your boss, for making you feel useless for not even managing to do your fucking job properly and assigning you more work than anyone else in your department. Or your mother for not teaching you how to manage your time and how to function on your own, her overprotectiveness during your childhood and teenage years showing so often that you never even got any time to learn adult life before stepping into it. But you know it isn't their fault, no matter how hard you try to think that it is. You let yourself into this situation. You let yourself be in the state you're currently in. You didn't try hard enough to make yourself a decent person. There's no one you can blame but you.

Your endless cries must've muffled the sound of door cracking open, eyes reaching only feet of your roommate that was now standing at the entrance. You couldn't look up, even if you wanted to, you couldn't look Minho in the eyes. Not when he's witnessing your failure and the mess you made out of something so dear to him.

Meanwhile Minho stood there, body frozen, gazing at your tiny figure splashed on the floor, shoulders shaking. He doesn't even notice the crashed vase at first, your current state drawing all his attention immediately to you.

He doesn't give himself any time to think much longer about what's happening in his front hall right now, dropping bags he's been holding in his right hand and suitcase on his left and appearing at your side the second after, kneeling by your vulnerable body on the floor.

"Hey, hey.." Minho lightly lays his hand on your shaky back, carefully caressing it to soothe you. "Easy now, I'm here."

The only respond he gets is your dramatic, loud sob ripping out of your heavy chest. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Minho... Is the only thing you could get out of yourself, followed by another set of pretty disgusting, wet cries.

"Are you hurt? Let me see your hand, please," your roommate asked quietly not to scare you after noticing red coloured drops beside your knees. Gently, he took your harmed hands into his and studied small pieces of glass stuck in your skin. "Let's get it cleaned, okay?"

His hand makes its way to your waist and he stands up slowly, careful not to make any sudden moves that could put you in pain. He shuffles you to the bathroom and helps you sit on the toilet seat and starts preparing alcohol and wet towels.

You feel pathetic.

Not only you ruined his special item, something so important and beautiful, but now he has to take care of someone that caused all the damage. You feel helpless once again, like you couldn't do anything fucking right for once. Once.

Your caring roommate starts removing glass shatters from your wound, his tongue sticking out a bit from the corner of his mouth, fully concentrated in his task. He knows that if his hands twitch even a little bit, he might hurt you even more, and let me tell you, his hands are trembling. He can't recall a situation when he saw you in such state.

You always seem tough, tough against any misfortune that meets you. You surely talk to him when you need some shoulder to lay on, about your worse days and he's cautious enough to notice when you're exhausted. But he's never seen you at your breaking point, starting to believe you don't have any. Yet you're here, in front of him, not even being able to speak properly. He can't help but feel kind of relieved at the whole situation knowing that your hard, protective shell cracked a little bit, letting him see something he's never seen in you before. Weakness.

"This might sting a bit," Minho informs you as he presses alcohol soaked paper to your wound. Whimper leaves your mouth at the unpleasant feeling and you hang your head down. He quickly wraps bandage around your hand and clasps it between his warm palms.

"Hey, you don't have to worry about that the hall. I'll take care of it, okay?" He tries to lower himself, kneeling in front of you, so he can get a better glimpse of your puffed face. You shake your head and straighten your back, looking at him with serious expression.

"No." You sniff, "No, I broke it, I broke something so important to you and it's my fault. I'll clean it. I'll buy you a new one, the same one, I promise Minho."

His hands make their way to your back, slowly, eyes remaining on you for any sign of discomfort. When you sneakily lean into the touch, Minho pulls your body entirely towards his, clasping your weak figure into his arms and sways you left and right, wanting to feel your muscles relax in his embrace.

"What's wrong, hm? My roommate senses are tingling," his voice muffles itself by pressing his mouth against your shoulder, "Talk to me, y/n, please?"

"I had the worst week ever here, without you."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You just shake your head no, holding onto his waist tighter than ever. You feel him nod. His calm aura pulls you in completely, feeling like walking into hot building during snowy, cold winter. Your cheeks warm up, pressing right below his neck, his body warmth transferring itself to you.

"It's lowkey weird." You choke out, coughing right after because of how stuffed your poor throat felt.

"What is?"

"You comforting me while I'm sitting on a toilet seat."

You manage to let out throaty chuckle to light the atmosphere up, however, you can't help the warm stream of tears flowing right after.

"Want to move it to the livingroom?" Minho pulls out of the hug slightly, setting his gaze at your red face again and your eyes make their way to the floor. You still haven't looked him in the eyes, not even once, as you're scared of the wave of guilt that will follow. As if the one you're feeling right now isn't enough. You feel like a child scared to get shouted at by their parents.

Minho crouches down in front of you and you hum in question, brows furrowed. He only gestures with his hand for you to hop onto his back, already positioning your legs on his hips. You groan but don't protest, you know how Minho is and you know fighting him is hopeless. Wrapping your arms around his next securely and glueing your chest onto his back, you melt into the warmth of his body. He stands up, feeling your breath tickling the skin behind his ear and smiling to himself, noticing how it got much steadier than it was before. He leads both of you out the bathroom and again, the sad view of Minho's favourite vase on the floor, not really looking any similar to vase anymore, hits you, shoving another wave of guilt through your nerves. You close your eyes and rest your forehead on your roommate's shoulder.

"I'm truly, so, so sorry Minho. I never meant to do this, I was just trying to make the place look presentable for you and it ended like it always does." the words left your mouth as quiet squeak, taking another deep breath before speaking again; "Yet you still have to clean the mess I did, like you always do. I don't deserve it, I don't deserve you. I failed being your perfect roommate."

"Who said I wanted a perfect roommate?" he asks as you reach your shared couch, carefully laying you on it then sitting by your side, facing you. "You think I'm mad at you, but I'm not. I've broken like five vases in my life and none of this was anything I planned, just like you."

You finally find some strenght in yourself to raise your gaze and lock it at his round, dark eyes. And he's right, no matter how intensively you look into them, you can't find even a tiny bit of anger in them, they sparked with understanding and you find yourself feeling bad at even thinking someone this precious could get so mad at you. They were so pure you could see your ugly, messed up reflection in them. Before you could start thinking about this again, his eyes squinted a little bit as corners of Minho's lips curled upwards in the most beautiful, sincere, affectionate smile you've ever seen. You only realised that his hand was placed on your trembling knee when you felt his fingers caressing it softly, sending warm shiver through your whole body.

"What about the flowers? You loved them..." You turned around to take a glimpse of the mess once again but Minho quickly grabbed your chin with only pads of his fingers and made you look back at him. "I'll take over from here, you get rest now."

Just as he was about to stand up from the couch you grabbed him by his sleeve and almost agressively pulled him right into your arms, crashing in the tightest, breath taking hug as you truly couldn't believe you had him by your side. Just when you thought you crossed his boundaries by that sudden action and started to loose your grip on him, he dragged you right back to him like he was waiting for this moment to happen. His heart pressed to yours, he definitely could tell how fast and heavy its beating right now. Both of yours eyes closed, you just enjoyed this such intimate moment, very first one since you've moved in together. Neither you or him dare to make a move in fear of ruining this beautiful scene.

"Thank you," you murmur into his neck, so quietly you're not even sure he heard it. "only you can endure me as your roommate. How are you not tired of this?" Chuckle leaves your mouth but you quickly tone it out in case he responds, Well, I am actually tired.

"Because you're the only one that can endure me, too." He pulls out of the hug, though he doesn't move too far away, being so close to your face you could feel his minty breath on your nose. "I guess it's just the way things go."

Next thing your brain processes is his perfect lips landing on yours in swift motion. Suprisingly they're not rough, not even a little bit, they're so soft you barely feel them at first. Your heart goes up your throat for a mere second, dropping back down the moment he caress your cheek gently with his warm hand, now covered in the tiniest layer of sweat caused by the adrenaline. When your body finally understands what's going on, you lean into him completely, hand going up on the back of his head, tangling into his soft, dark hair and Minho takes is as a sign to continue, now pressing his lips onto yours with more force, making sure you feel them properly. A sigh of relief leaves both of your mouths and you smile into the kiss. When you eventually just slightly pull away from each other, faces still close, you notice new emotion making its way into his eyes, overtaking the rest as he studies every part of your face carefully. It's love. His eyes are full of love. Its so intense like it just have been freed from his chest after months of hiding in the deepest corners of his heart.

There's still so much you don't know about him and there's so much he doesn't know about you, but the gate has opened now and there's no turning back. You don't know what any of this means yet, but you can think of it tomorrow. Or in a month. Or in a year.

For now it's just you and him. And that's what matters the most in the world.

#lee know #lee minho #skz #skz x reader #stray kids #lee know x reader #lee know fluff #lee know comfort #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz au #stray kids fluff #stray kids fanfic #skz fluff #skz comfort #skz angst #stray kids drabbles #stray kids x reader #skz fanfic #lee know angst

[yuquinzel]

[ 2:18 AM ] — itoshi rin.

joining in on the clingy rin agenda with this :P

rin does not like disruptions to his carefully crafted schedule, specifically— his sleep schedule. he has to be in bed by 11 pm sharp and wake up at the first light of dawn for his morning jog. that's how he's always gone about his day, that's how he prefers everything to be— falling perfectly into a rhythmic routine.

but tonight is different, tonight it's almost past 2 am, long since he found himself cozy in the warmth of his blankets— and yet he lies wide awake, eyes heavy with drowsiness but not enough to close shut because itoshi rin can not sleep unless you're beside him.

he wants to blame his comforter for failing to keep him warm, but in truth he's aware that the cold pooling his sheets is only an extension from the emptiness of your side of the bed.

it looks barren, abandoned even.

it's not like you're not home, it's not like you had an argument that didn't end well and hence refuse to sleep next to him, it's not like some college assignment is keeping you awake late into the night. you're just busy watching reruns of your favourite series because it had your favourite actor and rin is too prideful to admit he's not used to falling asleep without you threading your fingers in his hair.

he told himself he can sleep just fine on an empty bed. and he believed it for about three hours.

now you find him hovering like a ghost by the end of the room, all wrapped in blankets as he's taking long and impatient strides over to where you're slumped on the couch.

“bed. now.” he says, almost a little desperate.

you spare him a glance, then back to your tv screen, “rin? why're you still awake?”

“it's cold. i'm cold. come back to bed.�� you know his short and quick answers are just a reflection of how tired he truly is.

“you're cold?” you ask, and rin simply nods.

“just two more episodes rin, promise i'll come after that.” you say, eyes still set on the tv screen and rin eyes the way your eyes glimmer with awe when that actor shows up.

and then suddenly your vision is blocked, the fluorescent light from the tv casting white shadows across rin's large physique as he eclipses your view of the tv, “what's so great about him? you can watch these tomorrow, come back, i can't sleep without you.”

you're about to say what the hell rin step aside before the realisation hits, and his words replay in your mind. the gears in your head turn, an amused smile gracing your lips, “are you jealous of this actor?”

rin huffs, kneeling down so he's eye-to-eye with you, “i never said that. i said i can't sleep without you because your side of the bed is cold so it makes me cold.”

you laugh a little, and rin feels a sort of warmth tingle his skin, “but they won't air these old episodes tomorrow, and its only two more, give me like, half an hour?” you bargain, bringing a hand to cradle the side of his face, rin leaning in your warmth even more.

he ponders your words, grumbling something unintelligible as he gets up. you think he's about to leave, before he plops down next to you. adjusting himself on the couch with you with barely enough space to accommodate the both of you, rin manages to bury his face in your chest while you have to tightly wrap your arms around him to keep you from falling.

“we're gonna fall and it'll be your fault,” you breathe, and rin holds you even tighter at your words.

“no, it'll be your fault. you won't come to bed with me.”

“you're such a baby.” you laugh again, your chuckles reverberating through him with your closely pressed bodies, the comfort of it beginning to lull him to sleep like magic. he's a little grateful to the lack of space on the couch in exchange for the intimacy of this moment.

the last thing echoing in his mind before he dozes off is the sensation of your fingers running through his hair, with a light tug at times that relieves him of all his exhaustion.

sleeping on the couch is perhaps much better than the bed.

© yuquinzel2023 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

#❀˖° ─ hana writes. #I NEED HELP IM NOT OKAY #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x you #itoshi rin x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff #rin drabble #rin x reader fluff #itoshi rin fluff #rin itoshi fluff #itoshi rin

[angelshadowsinger]

Too Late (Priorities 2)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Azriel x f!reader 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.1k 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐲: angst

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

Azriel hurries back from his mission to find you’re gone. (sequel to Priorities)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

hiii guys! i originally intended on leaving Priorities an open-ended angst, but! y'all demanded part 2, so here it is~ just so you know, this is not happy. if i make a part 3, that might be! also, sorry this is a bit late. this last week was crazy busy and next week probably will be too. TW: very brief mention of vomit

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇ��ᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

The wind howled as Azriel pelted through the sky, his raw cheeks stinging from its relentless barrage. Scarred fists were clenched so hard the imprint of his fingernails marred his palms, jaw set as he grit his teeth and powered through exhaustion. 

You were right. 

The mission that Rhys had sent him on was nothing but a menial task. Any of the lower members of Azriel’s investigation force could have done the job the same as him. But ultimately, it was only himself he had to blame; even if his brother had given him the task, he had failed to pass it on to his espionage underlings. Delegation was perhaps one of his weakest skills— even after all these years he felt he had to earn his worth within his family. 

Thankfully, he was already on his way home the evening after leaving, the ordeal taking not even a full day. And he was flying full-speed in order to get back to you as fast as he could. 

His stomach had been in knots ever since he winnowed from his room at the Town House, where he had left you alone with your tears. The sound of your sobs echoed in his head, and he bit the inside of his cheek as he recalled your pleas for him to stay. 

He should’ve listened— This mission was the last nail in the coffin he had been slowly building every time his brother had summoned him away from you, calling him to duty with barely any time to rest between requests, barely any time to hold you in his arms. 

Gods, he missed you. Every time he had to leave you was like pulling teeth, his body and his shadows always begging to stay by your side, savor your kiss and your touch and your voice whispering sweet nothings in his ear. But his mind always won out. He couldn’t count how many times he had forced himself to withdraw from your ambrosial embrace, how many times he averted his sight from your melancholy gaze. If he allowed himself to linger on it, shame would begin to swirl in his guts and tighten his throat. 

The border of Velaris came into view and the shadowsinger dared to smile, stopping on a tall plain to gather a few wildflowers together. A meager peace offering, but a gift to show his remorse nonetheless. He had never returned to you empty-handed after a fight, and would not begin now.

Azriel plucked a few more stems to fluff up the bouquet, silently preparing himself for the emotional turmoil that was bound to ensue. The things he felt for you terrified him— and maybe that was partly why he would always answer Rhys’ call. Because if he stayed, and told his brother no… that would be his recognition that you had become his top priority. Perhaps it was time to make that leap, he thought, as he winnowed right into the foyer of the townhouse.

The home was eerily silent as he materialized in the dark, no candles or faelight illuminating the first floor. The sound of the clock ticking caught his attention, hazel eyes glancing at the last hour of dusk. The Illyrian frowned, straining to hear you, hoping to pick up the clank of dishes in the sink, the crisp turn of a page from a book, or even the quiet breaths of your sleeping form from the couch you usually dozed off on when you waited up for his return. But he detected not a single sound. 

Anxiety exploded in his chest, his shadows immediately surging out in every direction without needing instruction. His feet were moving before he could think, swiftly carrying him to the last place he had seen you— where he left you, falling apart and alone. 

He cursed as he hurtled up the stairs, three steps with each stride. It was times like these that he especially wished you were his mate, so that he could reach out to you and calm the ceaseless concerns that regarded your well-being every second he was apart from you. 

Rounding the corner, Azriel burst into his bedroom, eyes immediately zeroing in on the empty, made bed. Within a second, faelight lit the room. His shadows dwindled in the corners of the room, uncharacteristically mild as they slowly swirled at the floor, not reporting their findings to their master. Azriel bared his teeth at none of them in particular, but the reprimanding he was ready to bark out died in his throat as he noticed a small whirl of black lingering on the nightstand at his side of the bed. 

He came closer to inspect it, the little mass of shadow concentrated there, some spilling down the drawers at the side and joining its gloomy brethren on the ground. With a wave of his hand it dissipated. The bouquet in his grip fell to the tile with a soft whoosh. 

Your ring. 

It felt as if he had been shot, the jolt of lethal pain akin to when he had taken an arrow to the chest in Hybern. His lips parted as he examined the delicate silver band, the large, tear-shaped sapphire that once gleamed so brightly now dull against the wood. 

‘Stop wearing this the day you stop loving me,’ he had said, his arms around her as she giggled into his chest. She was giddy at his gift, kept admiring how it looked on her finger, her hand fanning out so the moonlight would catch the gem and shine. 

‘That would be never, shadowsinger,’ she had replied easily. 

He had never felt so light, so careless and content; she loved him too. She loved him, and he kissed her like she was the only thing that mattered.

Perhaps she was. 

Azriel fell to the ground, his knees buckling and smashing onto the hard tile. He barely felt it, every fiber of him in shock as he stared at the piece of jewelry that lay on the tabletop, now at eye-level. 

He barely heard his shadows inform him that the ring was the only piece of you in the home left, that your clothes and books and even that ugly throw pillow he hated was gone from the sofa. His wings slowly dipped until they pooled into a black mass on the floor behind him, dread oozing through him as he read the words that laid on the note beneath your ring. 

I’ll never stop, even if you have.

The shadowsinger sat and stared at the ring, at those awful words. He read them again, and then he reread them, again and again. 

He had told you he loved you before he left… But you didn’t believe him. And why should you, when all he gave you as of late were empty promises? Pretty words could only satisfy temporarily, and the latest string of seemingly-endless missions was longer than ever before. 

Doubts began to fill his mind with malicious whispers, his gaze still stuck on the ring and that hideous note. They murmured the thoughts that often found him at the odd hours of the night, when he would lay with your perfect body in his arms and sleep would welcome you but evade him– that you deserved more than he could ever give you, that he was unworthy of your pure and whole love. 

The sound of droplets splattering on the ground summoned Azriel from his descent into devastation, and his eyes slowly fell to examine the tiny pools his tears had formed beside his knees. He hadn’t realized he had started crying. He gingerly raised a scarred hand to his cheek, studying the newfound wetness on his fingertips. It had been so long since he last cried, the evidence of his emotion was foreign. 

Shaky fingers plucked the ring from the nightstand, coming to hold the tiny finery in his lap. It looked so bizarre against the crude black of the leathers binding his thighs, so bright and pure that he couldn’t help but think of you. Couldn’t help but think of when he had seen you personified the same, and he himself as a mass of darkness that would bleed into your light and poison you somehow. He thought of how every time he felt that way, you had worked so hard to convince him that he deserved you and that he deserved love, that you were so happy to be the one to give it to him. More tears escaped as he now realized his failure in telling you the same. You had always been there for him, and when you had begged him for support in your time of need, he had failed you. He had run away.

And now you had erased all traces of yourself from the house Rhys had gifted him. 

The town house had become Azriel’s official residence since his brothers had coupled off, and it had once been the fortress of his solitude. That was before he had found you, and before you had gradually moved your things in… before it had become a home. And now that it was void of you once more, it had suddenly reverted back to that empty, bleak place he had learned to hate.

A lump formed in his throat at the notion that perhaps this place had slowly transformed into your own prison of isolation these last few months. That maybe you had felt this sinking, desperate feeling when you were here, in the place that was meant to be your nest of love, your safe haven. That you had told him you were drowning here, and he had simply told you to wait for him when you were already exhausted, gasping out for him with your last breath. That when he had disregarded your desperate plea, he had effectively swung the sword and severed any faith you had left in him. 

You were gone, and it was all his fault. 

He was too late.

Nausea rolled deep in his gut and he winnowed in front of the toilet just in time before the contents of his stomach surfaced. Only once his body had heaved up everything it could did he begin to sob, knuckles pale as they clenched onto porcelain, his broad form slumped on the cool tile. Shadows swarmed the bath, mirroring their master’s distress. 

Eventually the shadowsinger sat back against the nearest wall, trying to calm his ragged breath. The shadows produced the note that had been left behind, and the sight of your parting words to him nearly triggered another fit, bile rising at the back of his throat. But he paused as he read the words again, scrutinized them even though they were few and short. He sat up and analyzed the note, hazel revisiting and eating up every curve of ink.

You still loved him. 

Even after he had ignored you, neglected you, failed you… you still loved him. Was there a chance that you… still wanted him? If he could repent and swear to do better, would you take him back? If he could just talk to you, if he could get one more chance from you… he could love you. He already did love you, but if he had another shot to be with you, then he could really give you his all, he could really allow himself to love you like he had always dreamt of. He could stand up to his brother, he could tell you how his world was meaningless without you, he could cherish you– prioritize you, he could… 

Azriel frowned, a panicked hand combing through his dark hair. 

Could he do all of that?

He had never been so outright with his emotions, it felt weak to bear his heart to such a degree… But what was the alternative? A life without you? A life filled with wondering what could have been had he not been a coward that was too scared to tell you how he really felt, too scared to even try? 

If there was a time to be brave, it was now. 

He was absolutely terrified, but his resolve was steel as he took a minute to fix himself, another to grab the flowers from the ground and ensure he had your ring. And then he was off in search of you, shadows enveloping him and melting into the night.

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar angst #acotar x you #acotar x reader #azriel angst #my work #angelshadowsinger

[pinkanonwrites]

As Our Fingers Entwine

The end of the trilogy!!! I hope you all enjoy, both newcomers and those who have been eagerly anticipating this piece! It is in fact NSFW, appropriate tags below. Read it on AO3 here!

TRIGUN STAMPEDE EPISODE 7 SPOILERS IN FIC BELOW!

Vash/Reader, 6,000+ Words, AFAB Reader but no specific pronouns used, mutual pining, body worship, frottage, vaginal sex, alien biology, praise kink, enthusiastic consent, begging

You couldn't say for certain why the ambience of the peaceful town didn't lull you to sleep the same way the rattling underbelly of the Sand Steamer seemed to, but you had a distinct feeling it was because you weren't right next to Vash.

You'd never admit it aloud, mainly for fear of revealing your painfully obvious affections for your blond companion, but nowadays you always slept better with Vash by your side. And as happy as Vash seemed to have a room to himself and time to catch his breath, a selfish little part of you had hoped he'd be cheap again, crowd the two of you into a single room to save a few double dollars. The last time you truly got to sleep side-by-side with him was a few bumpy hours on the Sand Steamer, before the incident with the Bad Lads and the shootout and the, well, the entire steamer nearly catastrophically crashing to pieces. There wasn't much sleeping on the bus ride into town either, no matter how exhausted the both of you were. 

And yet, when you collapsed face-first into the surprisingly comfy hotel bed, you found yourself agonizingly conscious. Somehow, a simple wall in between you and Vash was enough to keep you from getting a good night's sleep. Just when did you become so dependent? Now three nights have passed, each one spent tossing and turning, unable to get more than a few blissful moments of shuteye. It wasn't like you were scared, or even stressed! Your body had just acclimated to the idea of sleeping curled up next to Vash, and now without him…

"Hey, anybody home in there?"

"...Hmm? Oh! Oh, yeah, I'm listening." You hadn't realized you'd started to doze off at the diner table over your supper until Vash leaned over and snapped his fingers in front of your face. You jolted up, grabbing a wedge of your sandwich and jamming it quickly into your mouth as he gave you a soft and sympathetic smile, his salmon sandwich basically finished and his free hand twiddling a stray french fry back and forth across the plate. Ah, he must have been waiting for you.

"You're a little out of it today. Everything alright?"

You waved him off, taking a swig of water to force down the mouthful of bread and various fillings. "It's fine! Just not sleeping well, it's no big deal."

Your response didn't seem to soothe Vash's worries at all, as his little smile fell into a frown. "That's no good. Is everything alright? You don't feel unsafe or anything, do you?"

"Nonono, nothing like that, really!" His concern really shouldn't have been enough to fluster you, Vash would have been worried for just about anyone who looked as worn-out as you did. But it still hit a soft little spot in you, something eternally sensitive to Vash's care and attention that you had to do your absolute best to stifle basically every moment of every day. "It's just too quiet, you know? I'm not used to having a room to myself anymore, heh. Pretty silly, isn't it?"

Judging by the soft and further  furrowing of Vash's brow, your  placations did nothing to assuage his concern. "Is there anything I can do? To help, I mean."

Stay. Stay with me, always.

Yeah, right. Like you could actually say that out loud. You sunk further into your seat, feeling a bit like an insect under a magnifying glass in the face of his consideration. It felt as if one wrong word or move would suddenly and jarringly expose the affections you held for him that seemed so glaringly obvious at all times, always.

"I dunno. It's not a big deal, anyway. We don't have to worry about it."

He seemed to sense your own discomfort with the subject matter, and leaned gently back in his seat. "I saw there was a tailor in this town! If you want you can come with me tomorrow, maybe get that tear in your cloak patched up?"

You thumbed the rugged fabric edge in your hand, almost not wanting to. Vash had patched it for you last time, and though the job was a touch on the rough side you didn't exactly like the idea of someone undoing his heartfelt, albeit clumsy, stitchwork. But shopping with Vash? That definitely sounded like how you wanted to spend your afternoon.

"Yeah, that'd be nice. Anywhere you wanna stop by?"

"Might pick up some ammo, but not much besides that!"

And you were certain that would be the end of it. Even after thumbing out a few double-dollars to pay for dinner, opening the diner door for you with a cartoonish bow, and chatting idly as the two of you made your way back towards the hotel, Vash didn’t broach the subject again. By the time you’d made it to the door of your room you were certain he’d forgotten about it. But just as you were about to wish him goodnight and slip through the crack of the doorway his hand came to rest upon the door handle, that familiar soft expression of concern sneaking back up across his face.

“If you wanted… I could stay until you fall asleep?" There was a distinct shyness about it, like he was genuinely afraid of what your reaction may be. "Just to see if it would help?" 

You blinked at him once, twice, needing a moment to process the words he was saying before it actually clicked in your mind. Face growing hot, you prayed your expression didn't fully give away your embarrassment as an image wormed itself into your brain, an image of yourself in Vash's arms, his lips resting on the jut of your collarbone peeking from the hem of your shirt, of warm hands on the soft dip of your hips climbing higher, and higher…

Seeming to take your extended silence as rejection, or worse, disgust, Vash began to frantically backpedal, hand flying from the doorknob to tangle in the soft hair at the base of his neck. "You can say no! I just wanted to offer. Maybe that was a little weird, huh? Sorry, you can forget about it.”

But you didn't want to forget. Forgetting meant a return to… To whatever you and Vash were before that first night you woke up and saw him gazing at the stars. Forgetting meant pulling away again, faking a smile, pretending there was nothing there when you so desperately wanted there to be. Forgetting meant not acknowledging that he kept offering his hand to you, and that out of your own foolish anxieties you kept drawing away. 

And yeah, maybe things could still go catastrophically wrong. But wasn't that what you loved about Vash in the first place? How the entire world could fall apart around him and he'd still get up again, offer you a smile and put his best foot forward? 

You loved him. You loved him. And you were fucking sick of pretending you didn't. Your fingertips had closed around the fabric of his sleeve before you could second-guess yourself. 

"Stay with me."

And oh, oh, if the expression that crawled its way up Vash's face wasn't worth any and every possible humiliation, rejection, or vague discomfort. Red bloomed up from his collar, creeping up his neck into his cheeks and the tops of his ears. He blinked twice behind his oversized lenses, gaze flicking from your face to where you'd gripped his sleeve and back again a few times over. A thin, wobbly smile snuck across his lips, making his relief obvious despite his conscious efforts to hide it. A peek of sharp canines glinted from the gap as he shot you a crooked, sheepish grin, despite being nearly as red in the face as his signature coat.

"Y-Yeah!" He winced at the way his own voice cracked, oblivious to just how endearing you found it. "Yeah, heh, no problem! Let me, let me get my… I'll be right back. Five minutes? Give me five minutes, pinkie promise."

He even interlocked his pinkie with your own, a small, familiar laugh sneaking out before he slipped, momentarily, from your grasp. You watched as he stumbled down the hall to his own room, fumbled the door handle once, twice, banging his body into the wooden frame before managing to get it open, never once taking his eyes off you until the door slipped closed. Cute.

You stepped into your own room, clicking on the bedside lamp and flooding it in a warm, yellowed glow. Shedding your day clothes as quickly as possible, you kicked them into a heap in the corner and scrambled into your pajamas, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Without Vash's buzzing, eager energy at your side you had just enough time before he returned to briefly feel incredibly embarrassed at your show of need, face growing hot as you replayed the little scene over and over in your mind. Your hand around his sleeve, his expressions, your choice of words… God, you were so obvious. Had he really not picked up on it at all? But he seemed so eager, as eager as you were at the very least. Maybe he wasn't the only one who had been a little oblivious lately.

True to his word, it couldn't have been more than five minutes before you heard a soft knock on the door to your room. Standing on the other side was Vash, not clad in his signature red jacket but rather his familiar, beige pajamas. The worn out shirt hung loose around the collar with the sleeves draping just long enough to cover half of his hands, the loose elastic of the sweatpants held tight with an old, white drawstring. His hair was floppy and now shower-damp, hanging partially in his face as he gave you that so soft, so sweet little smile.

"You look comfy." He said, voice as soft as his grin.

"I could say the same for you." You responded, cracking a similar smile. Stepping to the side you let him join you in your room, door closing with a soft click as a palpable air of… something simmered between you two. Tension? Nervousness? It felt like a melting pot of just about everything you had or could feel when it came to Vash. He stood awkwardly in the center of the room as you flitted around him towards the bed.

"You should probably get some rest, huh? I'll just grab a seat at…" He gestured vaguely towards one of the two chairs set at the table by the window, words dropping from his lips as he watched you pat the open space in the bed next to you. He blinked again, face flushing pink once more.

"...Only if you want to." You added softly. He visibly swallowed, nodding so gently you could have almost missed it, and set his glasses on the nightstand with a soft clack. Carefully, hesitantly, he pulled back the covers and let himself into the bed beside you, moving like he was afraid at any moment you were going to change your mind and ask him to leave. 

You would never. You wanted him beside you. At all times, always.

He clicked off the lamp, and the two of you were plunged into darkness. A single stream of moonlight filtered between the thin curtains, falling diagonally across the bedroom floor and providing just enough light for you to keep Vash's face in view. When the two of you shared a sleeping bag for the first time the closeness was a necessity, there was nowhere else for you to go in the tiny shared space. But even now, with the width of the bed slim but still far greater than a sleeping bag could provide, you couldn't help but press yourself close to him. As always he was warm, so warm, heat radiating under the thin covers to soothe you, a constant thrum of energy just beneath his skin even when he was relaxed and doe-eyed as he was with you right now, laying on his side mirroring you, unable to look away. 

In this moment you couldn't help but consider that Vash was more alive than you had ever been in your own lifetime, or that you ever would be. He was a walking enigma, incredibly powerful yet so gentle, capable of such inhuman feats but so intimately, painfully fragile. Maybe you'd never fully understand him the way you wanted to, maybe there would always be secrets he couldn't share or stories he wouldn't tell. But you didn't mind, not as long as he was yours and you were his.

"Hi." He murmured, breath hot against your lips, that small, sappy smile never leaving his own.

"Hi." You replied. "Is this… Is this okay?"

"Yes." There was a relief in his voice, a borderline reverence. His hand hovered, briefly, coming to rest on the small of your hip and sending a jolt of need crawling up your spine fast enough to give you a headrush. "Are we… okay?"

"Always."

He let out a low, shuddering breath, hand flexing around your hip. "I haven't… I want… I want…" His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips and back again. He let out another breath, a short, warm huff as he hesitated, brow knit like even now he was afraid of the oncoming rejection, the inevitable hurt.

The two of you really had been completely oblivious, hadn't you?

You closed the gap yourself. Slowly, carefully, for no more than a few moments, you pressed your lips to his. He gasped when you did, a sharp, surprised inhale through his nose before his entire body seemed to melt into your several points of contact: your legs, his hand on your hip, your lips. You watched his eyes slide open again after you pulled away, crease in his brow receding as he blinked at you, almost owlishly.

"You kissed me." He murmured, that air of reverence returning to his voice.

"I did." You said it like it was the easiest thing in the world, and that's because it was.

"You'll… You'll always be in danger. You know that, right?"

"I do."

"We're always going to be moving. You wouldn't rather settle down somewhere nice?"

"Not if you're not there."

He sucked in another shaky breath, corners of his eyes growing glassy and wet. "It won't… It won't be easy. Being with me. It's hard."

"Vash." You cupped his face with your hand, forcing him to meet your gaze. "I promise you it's not. It's really not."

He positively beamed, knocking his forehead against yours as he burst into quiet giggles. "You're really amazing, you know? You're the most amazing person I've ever met."

"Shouldn't I be saying that to you?" Your own laughter joined his, and any hint of apprehension or concern Vash may have still held seemed to melt away in the face of your smile. "Now shush. Kiss me again."

He was clumsy, clearly overeager as he pressed his lips to yours once more. It started as another soft, fluttering thing, then a second, then a third, before you tipped your chin up and opened your mouth into the next kiss, inviting him to do the same. Fingers tangled in his soft hair, you pressed further into him, tasting honey and sunlight as you licked into his open mouth and he moaned against your lips. You didn't even realize he was moving you until you found yourself on your back, Vash's sturdy build boxing you in, knees framing your thighs as his teeth clicked wetly against yours and he groaned again at the feeling of your mouth moving against his. It was a messy, relief-stricken thing, like finding sweet, cool water after a day trekking across the open dunes. His still-flesh hand gripped your hip, fingertips indenting your soft skin, but his prosthetic hand cradled your cheek so gently, with such veneration it could have brought you to tears. There was a wet smack and a sharp gasp when he finally pulled away, like he was coming up for air. A single sticky strand of saliva still connected your lips, and as you swiped it off of his lower lip with a smile he gave you a sheepish grin in return.

"You gotta breathe through your nose, Vash."

"I know, I just…" He watches as you bring your thumb to your mouth, licking off the smear of spit there. He gulps, teeth worrying his lower lip. "...Just got a bit sidetracked, is all."

When he leaned back in a second time his target wasn't your lips, but the gentle slope of your neck. He placed a featherlight kiss upon you, relaxing when he heard your content hum and your fingers carded through the hairs at the base of his neck. Then he sucked a mark into the soft junction between your neck and exposed collarbone, teeth grazing and tongue lathing over the sensitive spot as you writhed beneath Vash's touch. His breath ghosted hotly over your neck, goosebumps prickling out across your skin as heat pooled low and eager in your stomach and you fisted one hand in the front of Vash's night shirt.

"Vash." You whined, and his low groan in response rumbled out against your already sensitive neck. "Vash." You moaned again, louder this time, needy but not completely sure what for. 

"Hmm?" His questioning hum was barely discernible from his soft, pleased groans, only the uptick at the end of the throaty sound cluing you in that Vash had even heard you at all. His lips rested on the curve of your jaw, thumb trailing back and forth across your cheekbone. You fisted the back of his shirt in one hand and tangled the other in his messy hair, whimpering at each barely-there kiss he left as he trailed his way up your jawbone to your ear. "You're so soft. So, so soft."

His lips brushed the shell of your ear and you couldn't help yourself, whining as your hips jerked up against his. His breath stuttered and he jolted back from you to blink with wide, shocked eyes. Immediately a hot flush of shame coursed through your body, searing behind your eyes and cheeks. Was he disappointed? Disgusted? 

"I'm so sorry." If you could shrink back and disappear you would, but it's not like there was anywhere for you to go. Vash's brow furrowed again for a moment before his eyes blew wide once more, immediately taking your face in both hands as gently as he could.

"No, no it's alright! There's nothing wrong you just- just surprised me a little! That's not bad! I just- Aw jeez." He pressed a kiss to your lips, then your nose, then your forehead. "Please don't cry. I promise I'm not upset or anything, so don't cry, okay?"

"I'm not gonna cry! I'm just… embarrassed." You mumbled between squished cheeks, eyes trained down and away from Vash's sympathetic smile.

“There’s no need to be.”

“I know that.” You whined, covering your eyes with the palm of your hand. You felt another fluttering kiss on the tip of your nose, and peeked through your fingers to find Vash beaming at you. There was a cautious apprehension behind his eyes now though, a similar fear to what you knew you were currently feeling.

“There is, uh, something I have to tell you though.” He fidgeted a little, not quite meeting your gaze. “It’s just that my body is kinda… Well, it’s a little… different? And I don’t want to freak you out or anything. But if you do freak out… That’s probably completely valid, I’ll be honest.”

“Vash, I’ve seen your scars before. You know I don’t mind, right?”

He winced a little, lower lip jutting out in a bit of a pout. “...That’s not what I’m talking about. It’s a… It’s a PLANT thing.”

“Oh.” As Vash sat back on your thighs you propped yourself up a bit to meet his gaze. “Well, that’s alright too. I won’t judge you for anything you can’t control, Vash.”

“Yeah but it’s… It’s pretty out there.”

“Try me.”

Vash opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it, then shut it again, blush crawling its way up his cheeks with his fisted hands tucked into his lap. He twiddled his thumbs, worried his lower lip with his sharp teeth, and still failed to meet your gaze. 

"It's, uh, it's just that it's a bit… different. My, uh… y'know?"

You'd been pretty oblivious to Vash's affections for you, but that didn't mean you were stupid. The way his gaze flickered down and then back up again when he spoke? The way one hand fisted the fabric of his pants and the other remained firmly tucked between his thighs, not quite against his crotch but definitely blocking it from your view? You could at least put those puzzle pieces together.

You rubbed the top of his knee with your hand, and tension seemed to melt from his stance with your touch alone.

"Would you… be willing to show me?"

He grimaced a bit, continuing to nibble on his lower lip until you ran the thumb of your other hand across it, trying to soothe the reddened skin. "I just don't want to freak you out or anything, is all."

"You really think at this point there's anything you could do or say to freak me out?" You bumped your forehead against his, the same way he had for you just moments ago. "Hate to break it to you, but you're kind of stuck with me now." He barked out a laugh, saying nothing but finally meeting your gaze, so you continued. "I don't want you to feel like you have to make yourself uncomfortable for my sake, but I also don't want you to run away from me. You trust me, right?"

"I do."

"Then trust that I won't run away either. I promise. I just want you, Vash, that's all."

He sucked in a shuddering breath, nodding softly against you. "Yeah. I want you too." Looking up at you through his eyelashes, he flashed you a cartoonish pout. "Maybe if someone gave me another kiss I'd get a bit braver?"

"You dork." You giggled, cupping his face in your hands and kissing him breathless once more. He leaned into you again, mouth open and eager, finally letting his hands trail back up your body where you'd wanted them. "Wait, switch with me."

"Hrmm? Whoa!" You wrestled Vash to the side, rolling the two of you over until you were now the one straddling his hips, not the other way around. He blinked up at you, mouth agape and lips slightly slick as he took in your form in the pale moonlight. "Oh. I could get used to a view like this."

With a single, sudden twist upwards of your arms, you pulled off your shirt and let it fall somewhere off the side of the bed, baring your chest to him fully. Vash gasped, hands squeezing against your soft sides as his gaze raked over your form.

"This one too…" He murmured. Trailing your fingertips down the length of his chest, you fiddled with the hem at the bottom of his shirt, lifting a bit but not quite tugging.

"This okay?" 

He nodded, hands joining yours to help wrestle his shirt off over his head. Immediately you were upon him, a featherlight trail of lips and fingertips upon every inch of scarred skin, tracing the outline of the metal reinforcement over his left pectoral as gently as you could. Your thighs squeezed around his hips, the front of his loose pajama pants tented and straining where they met your clothed core. He was big, that much was obvious. Another roll of your hips, not accidental this time but intentional, left Vash gasping out a sharp, labored wheeze as his hips finally jerked forward against yours.

"Sensitive." He panted, shuddering helplessly as his hips stuttered forward again. "C-Careful, it's sensitive."

That sensitive, with several layers of clothes still between you? Now you were getting really curious. You rolled your hips again, friction sparking pleasure up your spine but it was nothing compared to the way Vash positively mewled, back arching and hips rutting erratically to meet you. A dark, damp spot was beginning to seep through the fabric at the tip. You cupped his clothed length with your hand as gently as you could. 'Sensitive.' You reminded yourself. But a bolt of surprise rocketed through you instead when you could swear that, just for a moment, you felt his cock squirm against you, pressing up into your hand without the aid of his hips.

"Please don't freak out." Vash wheezed. You squeezed his length again, pressing in firmly, but it was impossible to tell what writhing was from Vash squirming around and what came from, well, Vash squirming around.

"I'm not freaking out." You reassured him, and in all honesty you weren't. Were you surprised? Of course! But there wasn't really anything about Vash that could truly "freak you out" anymore, even this. You stroked his length through the fabric once more and watched that wet spot at the tip bloom farther and darker, Vash shivering like he'd just touched a live wire. "Is it okay to take these off? Only if you're okay with it."

You hooked a finger into the waistband and waited, Vash's gaze laser focused in on your hand. Slowly, carefully, he nodded. Fingers looped in the elastic of both his pajama pants and his boxers, you gave him plenty of time to change his mind as you tugged them down, Vash letting out a quiet, hitched gasp when his cock sprung free.

Well, Vash certainly wasn't lying about it being different. Arching upwards from between his legs was what you could only describe as a tentacle, thick base sprouting from slick folds at the apex of his thighs. It curled upwards towards his belly and tapered slim at the tip, beading semi-translucent liquid that dribbled down the length of the shaft. It wasn't the same shade as his skin; It was closer to a bluish-white, marked up the length with abstract patterning similar to the glyphs on the outside bulb of a PLANT. Vaguely you wondered if it was always out like this, or if it settled itself snugly within those wet, petal pink folds when he wasn't aroused. You had to think it did, if Vash was as sensitive as he made himself out to be, otherwise he'd be on the verge of cumming with each step he took.

On second thought, that wasn't a bad image either.

Vash gulped, squirming a bit under your gaze, knees pulling together but unable to close fully with your body in the way. "So, uh, you're not screaming. I'm gonna go ahead and take that as a good sign!" You smoothed a hand up the length of his thigh, pausing right at the junction of his hip, and his cock twitched towards you subconsciously like a writhing tendril. He seemed to shrink in on himself a little at this, shoulders pulling up towards his ears as he anticipated your reaction.

"Vash, God Vash… Do you even have any idea how pretty you are?" He had to know, you couldn't let him wake up tomorrow and just bumble around for the rest of his life not knowing. He was ethereal, scarred skin painted in hues of blush pink, cheeks burning, eyes soft and wide… He had to be a PLANT, because it just wasn't feasible for a normal human to be this achingly beautiful. "You're so, so pretty Vash."

"Oh." His breathing shuddered, hips twitching when you squeezed down on the fat of his thigh. 

"Sensitive, right? I'll be careful, just tell me if it's too much, okay?" Fingertips trailing off the junction of his hip, you finally, finally, closed your palm around his length. It was hot, slick to the touch everywhere you put your fingers on it, and you could swear for just a moment that those glyphs pulsed with a faint blue-white light as Vash whimpered. "This is okay?"

He nodded furiously, hands fisting the bed sheets as he all but gasped for air. "Good! It's good. I haven't, it's been a long time since I- ohhh please…" Another bead of thick, slippery pre-cum drooled from the tip, slicking your palm as you moved it so slowly up the length of his cock, squeezing slightly on the downstroke and making Vash's back go concave against the mattress as he moaned. Heat burned low in your core, and you wrestled a hand down the front of your pajama pants to stroke your own slick folds directly. You couldn't help but picture how the silky writhing of his cock would feel inside of your pussy, slick oozing around where your bodies would meet as it pushed upwards into your aching core…

"Me too…" Vash groaned, hand grabbing for the waistband of your pants as he struggled to sit up. "Lemme touch you too, please." You stumbled off the bed for only a moment, but it was still far enough to make Vash whine at your lack of contact. Slick from Vash's cock smeared across the fabric as you wrestled both the pants and your underwear onto the floor before crawling back into Vash's lap like you couldn't stand to be away from him for another moment. His hands found your hips the moment you were within reach, rubbing soothingly up and down the outer curve of your thighs as he stared down at you, eyes swirling with arousal and adoration.

"Beautiful." He murmured, pressing his lips once more against the curve of your neck. "Tell me what you like, tell me how I can make you feel good."

Hand around his wrist, you guided him to the dark patch of hair between your legs. His fingers crooked carefully, curiously, two fingertips swiping upwards through your wet folds and catching over your clit. He shuddered when you moaned, the very act of giving you pleasure seeming to do him the same. Finding your clit again, he rubbed over it with his fingertips in slow, almost soothing circles.

"That's good." You cooed, taking him in hand again. "You're so good for me, Vash, such a good boy."

"Yes!" He moaned, his metal hand coming around to grip your ass, urging you to roll your hips against his hand. "Yes, 'm good, I'm so good." Sharp teeth dragged over your collarbone, just hard enough to send a prickle of pleasure up your spine. As you began to rock your hips he pressed his hand further in, letting you grind your clit against the heel of his palm as he slid his middle finger into your entrance. The intrusion was slick, effortless, and you couldn't help but moan as he curled his finger against your soft, hot walls. You pumped him again, another thick glob of pre-cum dribbling over your fingers as his cock wriggled in your grasp. "You feel so good inside." He continued to babble, drooling against your neck as he whined and gasped. "Wanna… wanna feel you, so bad…"

"Yeah?" You purred, shifting your hips further up his. With how keyed up you were you doubted you'd even be able to last more than a thrust or two with Vash inside you, but still you wanted. Nudging his hand out from between your legs, you shifted your hips down to trap his cock in between your pussy and his tense stomach as you rolled your hips and let it slip messily back and forth between your folds. Vash positively howled, head tossed back against the pillows as his other hand came around to grip your ass as well.

"Yes! Yes, please, oh please wanna make you feel so good." Shifting your hips to align his tip with your entrance, he peppered wet kisses across your neck and up your cheek as you hovered over him. You tipped your head to catch his lips with your own, moaning into his eager mouth as you finally let him nudge into you. Euphoria crackled up your spine with each small movement, an almost unbearable heat between the two of you as he shifted you so gently down his slick cock. It was almost effortless the way he slid inside, your combined wetness leaving no room for pain around the incredible pleasure as he stuffed you full, coiling and massaging your walls as you finally found your thighs resting on his and your lungs gasping for air.

"Oh, oh Vash." He shuddered at the sound of your name leaving his lips, hips snapping forward and once again driving the breath out of you as white-hot pleasure exploded behind your eyelids.

"Sorry, 'm sorry, not gonna last. Gotta make you cum, fuck, please cum for me…" His chest pressed to yours and his face pressed into the curve of your jaw, his hips thrust forward again, and again, wriggling one hand in between your sweaty bodies to thumb eagerly at your clit, rolling the swollen bud beneath the pad. You wailed, pleasure prickling tears at the corners of your eyes as your stomach coiled tighter, pushed you higher. 

A sharp blossom of pain erupted from the crook of your neck, making you cry out as Vash growled against your skin. His sharp canines dug into your sensitive flesh, bruising the soft skin there and blooming pain and pleasure into a swirling cocktail of overwhelming sensation. You dug your nails hard into the flesh of his back, shivering helplessly in his grip. The desert had been cruel, and crueler still had been its people, but you would make sure that any marks you left on Vash would be ones he wasn't ashamed to show, to feel.

"Love you." You sobbed, bleary-eyed and desperate for release, babbling similar nonsense to Vash as you tumbled into pleasure-drunk ecstasy. "Love you, I love you I love you Vash!"

He wailed, teeth pressing further into your soft neck, hips stuttering forward once, twice more before he finally shuddered, pouring his load into your awaiting core. Molten heat flooded your pussy, sending you tumbling into your own release. Rapture flooded your senses, writhing in Vash's hold as waves of pleasure overtook you, walls fluttering helplessly around his length again, and again, and again. He was spilling so much into you, you could feel it pooling out around where the two of you were joined, slicking his thighs and inevitably staining the sheets below. Even as your own orgasm began to subside, little aftershocks of pleasure sparking in your mind, he was still spilling more into your fluttering heat.

"I love you." He sobbed into your neck, drool and tears dampening your skin as he clutched you tight, so tight. "Love you so much." His tongue lathed over the bruise his teeth had left behind, a silent apology for daring to leave a single mark upon your body. With a final, shaky thrust of his hips, he seemed to spill the last of his cum into you, muscles relaxing with a stifled groan. You curled a hand in the hair at the base of his neck, pressing a kiss to his temple as he nuzzled into you. He whined as his cock seemed to slip from your heat of its own accord, another gush of hot slick spilling from your entrance as it went limp.

"I've got you, baby." You cooed. Slumping gently into his lap and ignoring the sticky-slick feeling cooling between your bodies, you let yourself melt fully into Vash's gentle hold.

"...They're probably gonna charge you extra for cleaning, you know?" He quipped, and you could feel him grimace a little at the tacky feeling between your thighs. "A lot extra."

"I'll take my chances." 

He guffawed against your neck, dragging you down to the mattress with him in a sticky heap. You curled into the curve of his body, head resting on his shoulder. His arm immediately rose to curl around you, pulling you tight against his side.

"Mmh, we should probably clean up." You mumbled, eyelids already beginning to flutter.

"...Five minutes?" He rumbled, pressing his nose into the crook of your jaw.

"Mmm… Five minutes."

#vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #trigun x reader #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #trigun #my writing #long post #alien biology vash

[theemporium]

Heyyyy, love all your works i’ve read so far, and i am still scrolling through your feed.

I wanted to request a Daniel x sunshine, where they have pregnancy scare, and daniel wasn’t in a right mood so he kind of had a bad reaction but then they end up alright because he apologises and tells sunshine how it was all because he had a bad day.

Thank youuuuu, take care💚

whoops this is a bit of a long one but thank you!! and thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

To be frank, Daniel had a shit day.

He had been dragged into the factory at an ungodly hour—far earlier than he was meant to be—and it started off his day in a grouchy mood. The meeting seemed pointless in his opinion, but he was still forced to sit through it regardless and fight the urge to doze off. 

Then, it had been a day jam-packed full of media duties and sponsorship promotions that he was in no mood for. Everybody had their off days, even Daniel Ricciardo and the people on set could tell. Unfortunately, there was a deadline to be met and they couldn’t keep putting the filming off. 

And to top everything off, you had been blowing his phone up all morning, forcing him to turn it off for the rest of the day when the team started to get a bit irritated at the constant interruption.

By the time he headed back to your shared apartment, he was downright exhausted, hungry and in desperate need to just sit on the couch for five minutes before he did anything. He expected you would either be in your office working, or in the kitchen whipping something up for the two of you.

He was surprised to find neither of those options. 

Instead, you were pacing around the living room, lost in your own world as you muttered away to yourself. Your head snapped up when he shut the door behind him, your eyes wide like you were a deer caught in headlights. He waited for you to saunter over, press a kiss on his lips as you greeted him like you usually did. 

But you just stood there. 

“Can we talk?” you eventually blurted out, and a part of him sensed the heaviness in your voice. He knew it wasn’t going to be some silly story, and he didn’t think he had it in him to have the conversation right that second. 

“Baby, I just walked through the door, at least let me shower,” he sighed as he shuffled further into the apartment, dropping his backpack near the door before he shrugged his shoes off and placed them beside the others. 

“Danny, please—” you started but the exhaustion within him finally snapped, hitting the last dregs of his patience. 

“Please, I’ve had a long fucking day at work, I don’t need to hear whatever you’ve been nagging me all day about right this second,” he muttered, his words a little harsher than even he intended. “Just please, give me like thirty minutes alone.” 

You blinked before clearing your throat, your eyes instantly looking anywhere but him. He felt a twinge of guilt rush through him.

“Baby—”

But you just shook your head, making your way past him and towards the door as you shoved your feet into the first pair of shoes you could find. “It’s fine, I needed to get something from the shops anyways.”

Daniel sighed. “Sunshine—”

But you were already out the door.

Daniel ran his hands over his face, letting out a small groan before he started making his way deeper into the house. He would make it up to you once you returned, he would make sure of that. But right now, he needed a hot shower and a change of clothes, and maybe some food to help him feel a little more human. 

However, when his hand reached out to flip the bathroom switch, the last thing he expected to see when the lights turned on was the plastic stick lying on the counter. 

His blood ran cold. 

He knew exactly what it was and he didn’t need to step any closer to know. It was a pregnancy test. You had done a pregnancy test. And then, just when he thought he could breathe again, everything started clicking in place. 

The phone calls throughout the day. The messages that went unanswered on his side. The sketchy behaviour when he walked through the door and the insistence to have a chat. 

You wanted to tell him you were pregnant—with his child—and he had snapped at you.

Daniel swore he could have thrown up there and then as he quickly exited the bathroom, his mind whirling with a million different thoughts as he made his way to the living room. He sat on the edge of the couch, staring at the door as the seconds ticked by like hours as he waited, as he waited for you to come back home, as he waited to say a thousand and more apologies the second you stepped a foot into the threshold of your shared apartment. 

When you turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open, the last thing you expected was to be ambushed by your boyfriend into a tight hug that almost made you drop the tub of ice cream you bought. 

“Danny—”

“I’m sorry,” his words came out slightly muffled. He then lifted his head, his expression wary and his eyes glossy with tears as he continued. “I’m so fucking sorry. I should have never snapped at you and I should have answered your calls—”

You gave him a sad smile. “Babe, it’s fine—”

“No, no, it’s not,” Daniel said with a shake of his head as he cupped your face in his hands. “I’m gonna be there for you, you hear me? I might have been a jerk earlier but that’s gone now. I’m gonna be here for you, to do whatever you need. I’m gonna be here for you and our baby and—”

“Daniel,” you repeated, gripping his wrists to catch his attention. “I’m not pregnant.” 

He shook his head. “Sunshine, you don’t have to lie, I saw the test—”

“It’s negative.” 

He blinked, feeling as though the air had been wiped out of him. “What?”

“It came back negative,” you told him, letting out a shaky breath. “I’d been feeling shit the last few days and realised that I was late. I started freaking out and panicking, and I tried calling you on the off chance that you’d be able to come back home.”

Daniel’s eyes softened. “Sunshine.”

“I’m sorry,” you muttered with a sheepish smile. “I was shaking so much, I couldn’t even drive to the shops. I walked, bought the tests and a litre of water and just…chugged it on the way back.” 

His thumbs gently caressed the apple of your cheek.

“Those three minutes were the scariest three minutes of my life,” you confessed to your boyfriend, swallowing back the emotions you felt in the back of your throat. “I mean, I don’t even know if I’m ready to be a mother and I just—” 

Daniel waited. 

“I just wanted you there,” you whispered.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured and he wrapped his arms around you, bringing you close and tight into his chest. It was the comfort you had been seeking all day. “I’m sorry I wasn’t with you, and I’m sorry for being a jerk earlier.”

“It’s fine,” you muttered. “You were stressed.” 

“I shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” Daniel retorted and pulled back so he could look at you again. “One day, I hope you will be the mother of my children, and I hope I will be by your side when we find out.”

Your lips twitched. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he grinned softly. “I’m in it for the long run, Sunshine.”

“Me too, Ricciardo,” you whispered before giving him a teasing smile. “Even if you’re a jerk sometimes.”

He laughed softly. “I’ll make it up to you, Sunshine, promise.”

But you just smiled. “I know you will.”

.

#daniel ricciardo #formula one #f1 #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x y/n #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

[angel-kyo]

Pay it no mind

Part VII

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself. Satoru is slightly inebriated in this one.

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI

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

“We are almost there.” You closed the door of Satoru’s apartment with your foot, trying to keep balance as he leaned on you.

Shoko’s birthday had been fun. She had not hated the sweater Satoru ended up giving her, and she had loved your present, so much that she had even shared a little with you after most people had left.

Although Shoko offered him some, Satoru had refused any wine. Normally, he would just not drink or have an alcohol-free (and awfully sweet) drink, but Shoko had then ordered something for him and insisted he tried it because it had almost no alcohol in it, and he should like it with how sweet it was. He had obliged.

“Just for the birthday girl,” he had said.

It was a terrible decision in your opinion.

“Can you at least try to walk properly?” You were on the way to his bedroom, but he was dragging his feet.

Turns out that 'almost no alcohol' is not the same as 'no alcohol'.

“Where… Where are we going?” His words were a bit slurred

You opened the door to his bedroom and helped him inside. “You are going to bed…” you made him sit on his bed, “and I’ll take these.” You took the sunglasses off his face and left them aside. He squinted and fixed his eyes on you.

He felt exhausted and his head was spinning. Before he knew it, he was lying down looking at the ceiling of his room.

You returned with a glass of water and made him drink it.

“What’s this?!” You rolled your eyes at the face of absolute disgust he had made after the first sip.

“It’s water, silly. Just drink it.” You sat next to him.

He did as you said and scratched his head, His euphoria phase had ended at the restaurant, and he was now feeling sleepy.

“Well, you look better now. I thought you where going to throw up on me for a second.”

Satoru grinned as response and looked back at you. Even with his thoughts scattered, you were beautiful.

“I’ll leave now then.” You were going to stand up when he grabbed your hand.

“Huh… Do you need anything else?” He was giving you a strange look. “I know you are not used to this, but you’ll be fine in the morning; hungover but fine nonetheless.” You smiled at him.

“Can you stay?” He was leaning closer.

I shouldn’t. This isn’t doing us any good.

“Please…?” Even in the dim light, his eyes were shining, and his voice was almost a whisper hard to ignore.

You sighed. “Just for a bit.” He made space for you to get in the bed.

You thought you could wait for Satoru to fall asleep and then leave, but as soon as you were within arm reach, he had wrapped himself around you and dozed off. You tried to loosen his grip but it only made him squeeze you tighter.

Should you wake him up just enough so he could let you leave? His breath on you neck was not helping you think. It was not like the position you were in was uncomfortable, but is this what you should be doing with the man you are trying to get over?

You mind returned to the Satoru of that morning.

“I had a rough night.”

He really has it rough, and he doesn’t sleep much; maybe I should let him be.

You yawned, a sign you were feeling pretty tired as well.

Your eyes closed. Maybe you could indulge yourself just this time too.

***

“Who are you?” Satoru was about to knock your door again when he had to look down at the small dark-haired girl that had made the question. She was probably four or five. He had never seen her before but he thought she might be one of your neighbors.

He was about to respond when the girl spoke again. “You are not their boyfriend.”

He blinked and a small smile formed on his lips.

Funny how we usually get the exact opposite opinion…

“Right, I am not.”

“There you are!” a woman walking up the aisle exclaimed looking at the girl. Satoru guessed it was her mother. The girl did not seem fazed by it, though, and she tilted her head looking at Satoru.

“Are you a homewrecker?” she asked him next in the most innocent tone.

That made the strongest sorcerer blink. “What?”

The mother, who had already arrived to where Gojo and the girl where standing, almost dropped her jaw. She apologized to Satoru, lifted the girl and walked away in embarrassment, scolding the kid.

“Where did you even learn that world?” her mother asked her.

“Grandma’s tv shows.”

Gojo smiled. Kids that age were funny; it reminded him of when he had first met Megumi, although he had never called him a homewrecker.

He was about to knock on your door again when you opened it. You looked like you had just taken a shower.

“Sorry, I thought you were coming later.” You let him in. “You could have used your key, though.”

Gojo followed you into your home and to the kitchen. “I thought you would like me to ‘knock the door at least once’.”

Right, you had told him to do it.

You grabbed a mug from the cupboard and poured in some water, and you were about to ask Gojo if he wanted something to drink, but he spoke first.

“I just met your neighbor’s kid. Kinda short, dark hair. Do they live on this floor?”

You looked at him. There were not many kids in the building, so you figured he was referring to the girl a couple doors away. Her mother seemed to have issues to keep her inside the apartment, and the kid was always wandering around the floor.

Luckily, it not really unsafe here, but still...

Satoru went on. “She called me a homewrecker.”

Your mug stopped mid way to your lips, and after the initial surprise, you laughed.

“She called you a what?”

“A homewrecker.” Satoru broke into a fit of laughter too.

But…

“I wonder why she would get that idea,” he said still sounding amused.

You looked away from him. Actually, you had a theory. Ikeda had dropped by a couple times; once to lend you a book you had told him you wanted to read, and another time to pick you up to go out. Could it be that the girl had seen him and gotten the wrong impression?

“I’ll go change.” You left the mug on the counter and walked to your room.

As you changed, you were thinking of how to tell Satoru about Haruki. It had not been your intention to keep it from him this long, but the subject had just not come up, or rather, it had not seemed to be the right time before. In addition, you were not exactly thrilled about telling your best friend you were reconnecting with that old friend he had disliked so much.

You looked at yourself in the mirror.

I’ll just tell him after the movie. He will be cool about it.

However, as you walked back to the kitchen, Satoru’s bright smile took away your resolve.

“You look good.” He was resting his chin on his palm and looking at your clothes. You were not wearing anything he had not seen before, but his gaze made you self-conscious. You hated keeping things from him. It had never worked.

Nothing could have prepared Satoru for your next words when you stood in front of him and looked him in the eye.

“Satoru, do you remember Ikeda?”

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

Note: No notes from me today, just love.

Thank you for reading!

Next: Part VIII

@mavs-stuff @witchbybirth @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @tqd4455 @maybe-a-bi-witch @mo0nforme @maliakealoha @zacatecanaaaa @blushhpeachh @astriarose

#gojo satoru #jjk #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk drabbles #jjk fanfic #gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo #gojo fanfic #gojo fluff #satoru

[anotherspnfanfic]

Surprise Visits

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x reader

Word count: 2400

Warnings: seizure, epileptic reader, possible inaccuracies

Summary: Eddie shows up unexpectedly. Reader is glad he did for more than one reason.

A/N: This is only my second time writing for Eddie and last time it was a co-write. I did a whole bunch of research and had some proof reading from the lovely @thatonewriter15 and @muchamusedaboutnothing. Hopefully this is a somewhat accurate representation... 🤞🏻

Trudging up the stairs towards her apartment, she cursed the elevators for being broken. All she wanted to do was collapse into her bed and sleep for two days. Unfortunately, that was impossible since it was only Wednesday and she had an important meeting first thing in the morning.

Passing the third floor, she considered if she was going to eat before she went to bed. She was starving, but cooking seemed like too much effort and time. Then she considered having something delivered but guessed that would take even longer than cooking. She decided to just eat a spoonful of peanut butter so that she wasn’t battling hunger while trying to fall asleep.

Finally reaching the fifth floor, she exited the stairwell and took the four steps to her door. It was a small victory for climbing the stairs— at least she didn’t have further to go once she got to her floor.

She unlocked the door and pushed it open. Immediately, she dumped her purse, jacket, and laptop case on the floor beside the door before pulling her shoes off one at a time to drop in the pile.

Rounding the corner into the living room, she gasped. Her favorite scented candle was lit on the coffee table next to several containers of Chinese take-out. Eddie stood from the couch as she approached.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as she let herself fall into his embrace.

He pecked a kiss to her temple as he pulled back to look at her. “You sounded a little overwhelmed when you called earlier. So I had Buck take Christopher for the night, and I brought you dinner.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she was overcome with emotions. “I love you. You are the best. I was about to eat some peanut butter because I’m too exhausted to cook or wait for delivery.”

“And let me guess, you’ve barely eaten anything all day?” he chastised.

She shrugged. “I had a bagel for breakfast.”

He pulled her over to sit on the couch. “I’m glad I came then.”

“I’m really glad you did.” She grabbed a fortune cookie while he started to open the other containers. “Are you staying all night?”

He nodded. “I’m all yours. Buck is taking Christopher to the zoo tomorrow.” He dumped some rice on the plates he’d gotten out of the kitchen. “Chicken, beef, or shrimp?”

“Some of each, please.” She set the fortune cookie back down as she stood. ”I’m gonna go change out of these work clothes. I’ll be right back.”

Before Eddie could even finish dishing up the food, she returned in sweats and a shirt she’d stolen from him.

As she sat back down, she picked up and opened the fortune cookie. She pulled out the piece of paper. “‘Life will soon become interesting,’” she read. “I think it’s already plenty interesting.”

Eddie chuckled. “Yeah, where’s the one that says we get a vacation soon?”

He finished adding everything to their plates as she flipped on the television and started an episode of How I Met Your Mother.

They ate in a comfortable silence and had finished before the twenty-minute episode had ended. He set the mostly-empty plates on the table, and she shifted to curl in against his side while he wrapped his arm snugly around her shoulder.

As the credits rolled, he asked, “Bed or another episode?”

She yawned. “One more. I’m probably going to fall asleep, but I’m comfy.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead as the TV rolled over into a new episode on its own. “As you wish, mi amor.”

She had just started to doze off when, suddenly, she was overcome with a familiar, distinct, full-body tingling sensation along with intense nausea. She quickly shifted to leaning forward on the edge of her seat. “Oh, no. No, no, no.”

Eddie reached out and placed a tentative hand between her shoulder blades. “What’s wrong?”

She stood and moved over to the empty dining room, which she kept devoid of a table and other furniture precisely for this reason. “Seizure,” she stated as calmly as she could before lying down in the middle of the floor.

“Oh, uh, okay.” Eddie was surprised, but quickly stood. He grabbed a blanket from the recliner and moved to sit beside her. He knew about her epilepsy and the medications she took for it. However, in the eighteen months they’d been dating, she’d never had a seizure. He lifted her head to slide the folded blanket underneath.

She let out a quiet whimper before her eyelids fluttered closed.

“Okay. You’re okay. I got you.” He pulled out his phone, opened the timer, and set it on the floor. He continued to whisper soft reassurances to her and started the timer as soon as she started to seize.

Despite his training and having treated patients with seizures at work, he couldn’t help but notice the way his hands shook as he carefully kept her rolled on her side. “You’re okay,” he repeated, more to reassure himself than anything. He continued to repeat it several more times as he waited for her to stop.

He felt his anxiety spike again as he watched the timer hit four minutes. He thought about what time it was, trying to figure out which shift was manning the 118 currently. He knew if she hit five minutes, he would have to call 9-1-1. As the timer rolled past four and a half minutes, her movements finally began to slow. He breathed a sigh of relief and pushed some hair out of her face as she stilled. Next, he used the corner of the blanket to wipe the saliva that had dribbled out.

For his own peace of mind, he checked her pulse, satisfied that it was steady and only slightly tachy. Next, he counted her breaths, ensuring her breathing was also back to normal. Then he sat there, running his fingers gently through her hair, and waited for her to wake.

Finally, after several minutes of anxiously waiting, she groaned.

“Hey, sweetheart. You with me?”

Slowly, she cracked her eyes open and looked around for several moments before finally landing on his face. She was clearly confused and still disoriented.

“You’re okay. You just had a seizure,” he explained. “Do you remember feeling it coming on?”

She thought for a minute before finally nodding. Groaning again, she rolled onto her back and threw an arm over her face. “Trash,” she slurred.

Eddie shifted away to grab the trash can sitting in the corner and move it beside her. “Do you want to sit up?”

“Not yet.” She lied there, trying to regain her bearings.

He took her hand in his and ran his thumb softly over her knuckles. “Anything I can do?”

“Mmmm, make the jackhammer in my head stop? And the nausea, too.” She rolled back onto her side before starting to push herself into a sitting position and pulling the trash can between her knees. “This blows.”

Leaning forward, he placed a chaste kiss on her temple. “I know. I’m sorry. Do you want something for the headache?”

“Not yet. I don’t want to puke it right back up.”

She didn’t know how long she sat there, taking slow, deep breaths in an attempt to clear the nausea. All the while, Eddie rubbed soothing circles across her back. The soreness was already starting to settle in all her muscles. Eventually, she pushed away the trash can and leaned into him.

“Ya know, this isn’t the kind of interesting I was hoping for. Stupid fortune cookie,” she grumbled.

“Me either. You think you’re ready to move?” he asked as he wrapped his arms around her gently.

“Yeah.” She nodded. He stood, and she reached a hand out for him. “Help me up?”

Instead of pulling her up, he bent down and slid one arm under her knees and the other around her back and easily lifted her. He walked slowly towards her bedroom, cautious of making the nausea worse, then set her gently on the bed. “What do you need?”

“Uh, I will take that Tylenol now. Plus, water and some Advil for in the morning, and the trash can by the bed,” she listed, then, with a pout, added, “Please?”

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

She laid back into her pillows as she waited for him to return. Next thing she knew, she was peeling her eyes open to find Eddie beside her, rubbing a hand across her head.

“Here, take these and then you can go to sleep.” He handed her the pills and then opened a bottle of water before offering that as well.

Once she’d swallowed them, she took a few deep breaths to clear the flare of nausea. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He pressed another kiss to her hairline.

“As much as seizures suck, it’s really nice having you here to help. I’ve just slept on the floor in there so many times because I just didn’t have the energy to move.”

“I’m glad I was here. I hate that you’ve had to go through that alone.”

“I hate that I have to go through it at all.” She sighed. “And I just broke my longest streak. At least I didn’t try to take a chunk out of my tongue.”

“Ouch.”

She nodded. “Yeah, one time, I had to get stitches from biting it so bad.”

He cringed. “That sounds awful.”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, eyes fluttering closed. “Work is really going to suck tomorrow.”

“No, it won’t.” Eddie argued. ”You’re taking the rest of the week off.”

“I can’t!’ she declared, opening her eyes and leaning forward. “I have too many things to get done and a meeting first thing that we’ve been working toward for three weeks.”

“You just had a seizure,” he pointed out the obvious. “For the first time in, what, two years? And a long one at that. You were about twenty seconds away from a trip to the hospital. You don’t think your stress levels had something to do with this?” His tone was one of frustration, but she could tell he was just worried.

She sighed, knowing he was right. “Maybe.”

Eddie climbed into the other side of the bed and settled nearly in the middle. “So take the long weekend. Just relax and get some rest. Doctor’s orders.”

Shifting to curl into his side, she giggled. “You’re not a doctor.”

He huffed. “Medic’s orders. Is that better? Or I can call a doctor.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Rolling impossibly closer to her, he pressed one more kiss to her forehead. “Good night, mi amor.”

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was her alarm clock. She was surprised to find it was nearly ten already. Slowly, she shifted onto her back and turned her head to look at the other side of the bed. She found Eddie sitting on the bed, scrolling through his phone.

“Good morning,” he greeted as he noticed she was awake. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m okay. Just a bit sore. Which is pretty much what I expected.” She took Eddie’s hand in hers. “And maybe a little grateful that I got to sleep in and I don’t have to get up and go to work.”

He lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles. “You needed it.”

“Oh, shit!” she panicked. “I didn’t call. I missed the meeting. I’m gonna get fired!”

Eddie shushed her. “I called. Just breathe. It’s okay. I called earlier and talked to your boss. He knows you’ll be out today and tomorrow and told me to tell you to take Monday also, if you need to.”

She took a deep breath and let herself relax. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Of course. How about some breakfast?”

“Mmm. Yes, please.”

Eddie let go of her hand and got up off the bed. “Stay there. I’ll be right back.”

He disappeared out of the room, and she could hear him moving around her kitchen. A few minutes later, he returned with a plate and set it on the bed in front of her.

She looked up at him, surprised. “Since when do you make omelettes?”

“Uhh, well, never?” He laughed. “I may have called in reinforcements. Bobby dropped it off earlier. I just reheated it according to his very direct instructions.”

“Eddie! I could have just had some cereal or something. You didn’t need to make him drive over here so early on his day off.” She reached over to grab her phone off the nightstand.

“I figured you could use real food. I was going to order delivery, but Bobby offered.”

“Why would he have offered?” She opened Bobby’s contact to send him a thank you text. “Oh. You told him about last night.”

“I couldn’t fall asleep. Then they were all texting in the group thread. So when they asked why I was still up, I told them. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have without asking you first.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s not like my epilepsy is a secret. They’re your—our— friends. I’m sure I would have told them anyway.”

He nodded. “Okay. Eat and then you can go back to sleep for a bit. If you want.”

She cut a piece off the omelette and ate it. As she chewed, she spoke, “Bobby says we’re invited over there for dinner if I’m feeling up to it. I told him we would let them know a little later today.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me.”

She took another bite of her food. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

Shaking his head, he explained, “I ate earlier.”

“Oh, right.” She glanced at the clock. “I forgot it was so late already.”

“Anything else I can get for you?”

She contemplated for a moment. “Umm, maybe a glass of apple juice?”

He disappeared from the room with a simple nod.

Soon after he returned, she finished her omelette and he took the plate into the kitchen.

“Did you want to go back to sleep?” he asked.

“How about a shower and then a movie on the couch?” she countered, throwing off the blankets she was still tucked under. As she stood, dizziness flared, causing her to sway slightly before sitting back down.

Eddie was in front of her instantly, steadying her. “How about a bath instead?”

“Sounds perfect.”

#eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz fanfic #911 fanfic #911 oneshot #hurt/comfort #epileptic reader #seizures

[lightbarebunnies]

Napping with Valkyrie

summary: some lil hcs about napping with valkyrie's members :) tags: fluff, gn!reader - you/your pronouns characters: mika kagehira, shu itsuki a/n: first actual post? first actual post. screams. I might resize my header images because they feel way too big, but I will wait and see how they look on mobile x_x

Mika, like any other black cat, loves to sleep in the warmth of the sun.

He's napped out on benches, beneath trees, once even on the floor of the handicrafts room while he was waiting for Shu to finish alterations on their costumes.

However, it was when he first moved into the dorms and Ritsu, that Mika learned the joy of napping with another.

There’s a closeness that he’s appreciated from those dear to him, even outside of a romantic context. He’s just a cuddler!

Once he started collecting plushies, he had at least one near by to hold onto. During his crushing stage, there definitely wasn’t one he named after you and would imagine was you, yearning to be able to hold you tight...

Once you started to date, however, he’s always been the clingy type of partner - pulling you close so that you’re leaning on his shoulder when you watch movies together, having you sit on his lap when the two of you are both just scrolling on your phones, and essentially attaching himself to your arm when you’re out shopping for fabric.

He adores the feeling of you. Your warmth, the slow rise and fall of your chest as you breathe, the pressure of you on top of him… Genuine, physical facts that you are there and with him in that moment.

As much as Mika likes to spoon, he actually prefers for you to be cuddled up beside him and resting your head on his chest.

In a perfect world, you’d just be directly on top of him without worrying about it being comfortable for him… He can handle it, even if you hear something crack or pop, he’s not that scrawny anymore! It’s just like a weighted blanket-

...That’s something he’ll try to convince you to do on another day.

Today, however, he just needs some time with you. You’ve both had a long day, and it wasn’t even dinnertime yet. So… like clockwork, he drags you off to the couch for a nap to recharge.

Mika’s essentially formed a nice little nest out of his spare blankets, with just enough space for the both of you to lie down and be snuggled up together.

He lies down first, then lets you get comfortable and find the right position before he’ll wrap his arms around you. He tends to have a hand wander and eventually find its way into your hair, playing with it until he dozes off.

Sometimes, Mika ends up waking up before you. That’s a real treat for him… he loves how peaceful you look when you sleep – just getting to watch you at rest with him makes him feel all fuzzy inside.

Shu Itsuki and naps do not usually come hand in hand.

Usually, he keeps a strict sleep schedule to ensure his own health and maintain the proper work balance between schoolwork and his idol activities.

Though, it's due to his stubbornness that he's wound up passed out in the snow when he still was attending Yumenosaki. While he hasn't worked himself to absolute exhaustion, he still is prone to pushing himself far to meet deadlines.

You're dear to Shu, and your presence is absolutely vital to his work when he's on a time crunch.

He trusts you enough, about as much as he trusts Mika at this point, to assist in simple sewing tasks.

So, as the sun rises and creeps through the curtains, you finish applying bias tape to the sleeves of Shu's most recent commission. You're wiped, but you can't seem to convince yourself to go to sleep if it means more work for Shu...

Shu looks at you sleepily rub your eyes, placing your pin cushion on the table, and his heart aches. There was still another day until the deadline... perhaps the two of you have done enough for now.

He quickly makes a baste stitch with the applique he had been fussing over, then stands. He walks to the couch and grabs a shawl he had knit months ago. You don't really think much of it, until you realize he's not by the couch anymore... and is in fact standing behind your chair.

"Come, mon Amour." he whispers in your ear, wrapping the shawl around your shoulders. "I've decided that I can't stand watching your constitution waste away, so we shall be going to bed."

It's an obvious excuse, a way for him to say he too is tired without admitting such weakness and instead using you as an excuse It was something you'd normally point out, until he gives your shoulder a gentle kiss - a silent apology for not deciding to rest sooner.

... Alright, you'll let him off easy this time.

Whisking you off to his bedroom, he first ensures your own comfort once he lays you down - fussing over your position and making sure that the sheets are adequate.

On one side, he tucks you in, before he gets in on the other side. He ensures you're still wrapped in the shawl as he holds you, so that if the two of you separate in your sleep, you'll still have a part of him holding you as you rest.

Shu watches you as you drift off, gently brushing his fingers through your hair and humming softly. He always makes sure you fall asleep first.

Feeling the knit lace pattern of the shawl between his fingers, a habit to keep him from fretting about the unfinished work, he finally drifts off to sleep with you in his arms.

In a few hours you'll both wake up and get back to work, likely with a cup of caffeinated tea to help. For now, however... he'll rest.

#enstars x reader #ensemble stars x reader #mika kagehira x reader #shu itsuki x reader #kagehira mika x reader #itsuki shu x reader #valkyrie x reader #.hyacinth writes #mika kagehira #shu itsuki #enstars #ensemble stars

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A Fresh Start [14]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: self doubt, anxiety over appearance, past medical trauma, sexual tension, like so much sexual tension, some heavy petting, slow burn (i use it as a warning here b/c it’s gonna feel like an attack by time you’re through with this chapter lol)

Word Count: 4,682

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

Ch. #14: AM I MAKING YOU QUIVER?

Chapter Summary: Exploration and Anticipation

“i must have loved you in other lives because when i see you it feels like coming home. no one makes me feel more myself than you. when my hand is in yours it’s familiar and safe, like i’ve known your soul since the beginning of time, through all the lives i’ve lived. maybe that’s why my love for you is infinite.” --m.m.

This was the first time you woke up beside Din. Up until now, every moment that involved him taking you to bed or falling asleep on him ended with you waking up alone. Alone or with Grogu. Din always seemed to be up before you. There was absolutely nothing comfortable about the cot you were laying on. At baseline it was hard and covered with crinkling, thin sterile paper. It was also only large enough for one person. Which, granted, with Grogu alone on it the cot had looked massive, but now it held Din, Grogu, and you. You were startled that you hadn’t woken up on the floor.

You had Din to thank for that. He laid on his back, armor and helmet present, with Grogu sleeping soundly on his chest. You laid half on his side, curled around him, but he had one arm under you and resting on your waist clinging to you tightly. Saving you from sleeping on the hard, tile floor wasn’t the only thing you had to thank him for.

Last night had been… difficult. Nothing short of the Maker himself was going to stop you from doing everything in your power to heal Grogu, and even then the Maker might not be able to hold you back, but the cost had been steep. The moment your body registered that Grogu was safe, vitals steady and father in the room, you had crumpled in on yourself like a dying star. Every single demon that called your mind home crawled out of the wood works to plague you.

Surely, you thought, they’d devour you whole and leave you an empty shell. Yet, here you were. Still alive, still functioning, and⏤ dank farrik⏤ you were content. Content, borderline happy. An emotion you thought would be impossible after the events of last night. You felt safe. Lying here, watching Din and Grogu sleep peacefully, Din’s arm clinging to you, you felt like there wasn’t a force in this galaxy that could touch you. Over the last year, a lot of people promised that you’d be protected. Many swore that nothing would hurt you. 

Din was the only one you believed.

Despite wanting to stay in this moment forever, you knew you needed to rise. There were things you needed to collect and, though you had revealed a lot of who you were last night, it’d be nice to not have an audience. Carefully, you untangled yourself from Din’s arm. He stirred for a moment, but you whispered a reassurance. It was a testament to how exhausted the Mandalorian was as he laid his head back and dozed off once more.

As you stood, that’s when the aches began to settle from the night you had. The cot, and technically Din’s armored body, had not been forgiving to your skin, bones, or joints. You stretched as you walked over to the medical shelves. You wanted to make another two doses of the antipyretic, just to have on hand, and an additional dose of antibiotics for Grogu to take. It was overkill, technically, but you didn’t care. It was also mildly illegal for you to take some of these supplies home, but who was going to stop you? Daelar? That coward was off world so he had no say over this clinic, and you had a pretty solid relationship with the Marshal. Enough so that you doubted he’d be arresting you for this.

Quietly, you worked with practiced ease compounding the medications. Without the added stress of a ticking time bomb in feverish child form, you were able to find the action calming. That is until a figure settled next you. Her presence startled you at first, but you recognized the girl you held at gunpoint only hours ago.

“Oh, Aayla, hey.” You greeted in a whisper, to not disturb Din, “I’m sorry about last night. With the blaster and the⏤”

“No, no. Don’t apologize.” Aayla replied. “You were incredible. This is incredible.” She motioned to the medicine you were half done compounding. “I think I’m in love with you.”

“Wait, what?”

“I came here to gain experience before I apply to medical school, and I was so disappointed with what I found.” She said. The girl was practically bouncing in place. “But now I have you! Oh, I am so excited to work with you!”

Your fingers froze and you slowly shook your head. “No. No, no, no, no. I’m not⏤ We’re not⏤”

Aayla tilted her head in confusion. “You’re gonna be the new on site physician, aren't you?”

Maker, in your panic last night had you just told everyone you were a doctor before? You shook your head. You needed to get this done. The sound of Din stirring made you glance over your shoulder toward him. You hummed, “Aayla, can you take out Grogu’s IV? Have you done that before?”

“I have!” She rushed away and you took that as a victory.

Din sat up on the cot at her approach, Grogu still cradled in his arms, and you sighed in relief once more. Grogu still hadn’t woken up, but that didn’t surprise you. You had made both medications last night with a sedative effect. The poor kid needed as much rest as possible. All thoughts were interrupted when Din’s t-shaped visor lifted from Grogu to focus on you. You physically felt his eyes on you and a thrill ran down your spine all the way to your toes. You quickly turned back around and went back to work. You were nearly done with the last one. Would’ve been finished by now if Aayla hadn’t caught you off guard.

As if the universe knew you were trying to stay focused on task and wanted to distract you, an all too familiar form silently approached. Din towered over you, quite the sight in all his beskar, and though his presence hadn’t surprised you the way he curled around you did. Din rested one hand on the counter, his other wrapped around your waist, and he leaned into you so the side of his helmet was pressed against the side of your face. The man might as well have set you on fire with the flamethrower connected to his vambrace. Heat warmed your cheeks and flooded into every nook and cranny of your body.

This was hardly the first time he had broken the barrier to touch you, but this was the first time it wasn’t spurred on by some emotional turmoil. You hadn’t expected him to be so casual. To openly touch you in this way. 

“Hi.” You mumbled, unsure of what else to say.

A low, rumbling chuckle spilled out from the helmet’s modulator and the sound made your breath catch in your throat. Din squeezed your waist. “Hi.” He nodded his head down toward your hands. “What are you doing?”

“I, uh, I’m…” Habit told you to lie. You were supposed to keep this a secret. Nobody was supposed to know about your past. Your logic argued that it was a little late for that and telling Din you were ‘making mixed drinks with the medical supplies’ wasn’t going to convince him of anything. “Medicine.” You blurted. Mentally, you cursed your lack of allure and tact. Maker, why did Din make you babble like an idiot? For once, could you just be cool? Give off an air of mystery and intrigue like he was able to? Kriff. “Uh, medicine for Grogu. Just in case.”

“Good.” He replied. “Smart.”

“What can I say? I have my moments sometimes.”

Din hummed out a sound of amusement, but before you could commend yourself for saying something marginally clever and well thought out, you felt his gloved fingers brush just under the hem of your shirt. The leather warm and firm on the bare skin of your abdomen, and your entire brain short circuited at the motion. 

“You almost ready to go home, ner kar’ta?” He whispered.

Voice broken, you nodded dumbly. Din chuckled once more before pulling back and walking back to the cot. Maker. Oh, Maker. You glanced over your shoulder to watch him saunter away. He didn’t do it on purpose, he didn’t seem to know what his gait did to the people around him, but you could watch Din walk for hours. It was such a casual and strong pace⏤ confidence oozing from every step.

For weeks now, you had been fighting an emotional connection to this man. You were terrified of messing up the good thing you had. It couldn’t be argued that the ship of staying distant had sailed. The wall between the two of you, emotionally speaking, was a pile of dust now. The physical thoughts? Those had always been easy to swat away. You forced yourself to not let your mind wander on his hip to shoulder ratio. To not think about the sliver of flesh you’d see at home between the waistband of his sweatpants and the hem of his shirt. To not think about his strong arms and the way they would feel wrapped around you.

You had been so good about it. Up until now, that is.

Now? Dank farrik, you wanted to jump his bones. 

Maybe it was the excess adrenaline from everything that happened last night, or maybe it was you being too weak to hold back those primal thoughts, but regardless of the reason the desire was there in full force. Your eyes traced him from boots to helmet once more. He was standing by the cot watching Aayla work with his hands on his hips and his head faced down in a studious manner. Oof. A man covered head to toe in metal and the woven material of a flight suit should not look this good. The man didn’t have a single patch of skin showing, yet you were foaming at the mouth feral for him.

As if reading your wanton thoughts, Din’s gaze snapped to you. Your eyes widened. Though you couldn’t see where his eyes were trained, you still flushed as if he were raking over your form, and when his head tilted to the side it felt like your heart seized in your chest. Double oof. You whipped your head back around, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, and tried to get back to the task at hand. Focus, focus, focus.

Medicine for Grogu first, eye fucking his father second.

They had slept in the clinic far longer than Din had thought. The quick trip back home was made in early morning light and the city was beginning to come to life. Normally, this would frustrate him, but Cara had left him a note saying that Karga was excusing them of all duties today⏤ as a thanks. Any issues would run through him. In any other scenario, Din would argue over this plan, but today? No, today he was going to send Karga a damned fruit basket as thanks when he got the chance.

There was a very long list of tasks Din had to accomplish. He needed to hunt down Daelar so he could rip the man’s cowardly spine from his body and beat him to death with it for leaving his son and you without medicine. He needed to repair his vambrace so the communicator would work once more. He needed to ensure Grogu was healing properly⏤ though you were handling that better than he ever could it seemed. And a few other dozen items he always had on his to-do list. One of the more important things on his list of goals for the day? You. 

Din knew he had a bad habit of tunnel vision. He knew because people told him this constantly. He tended to make a goal and then barrel through any obstacle or issue with blinders on until he got what he wanted. It was part of the reason why he was so good at bounty hunting, though it was also the reason why he found himself in so many messes over the years. Today, it would come in handy because you were at the end of this tunnel.

“How much longer will he be asleep?” Din asked. Grogu was bundled up in his arms as the two of you entered into the house. 

You set the bag of supplies you had taken from the clinic onto the kitchen counter then shrugged. “If I had to guess…a couple more hours?”

“Good.” Din replied. Without another word, he began the journey to his room. First things first, he needed to get his son settled. The last time Din had seen Grogu sleep so soundly was when they first met and he saved him from the mudhorn.

Carefully, he tucked the boy into his hammock and shuffled through the toys below to find Grogu’s favorite stuffed frog. Din set it in the hammock as well and took a minute to breath out a sigh of relief. Maker, he was thankful Grogu was safe and healing. He was thankful for you, and he wanted to show that to you in any and every way you’d allow him.

Din stepped back and began to peel off layers of his beskar. The gloves and his gauntlets fell away first followed by his shoulder pieces and his torso. He had even shrugged out of the tight upper half of his flight suit leaving him in the plain t-shirt that sat beneath. His hands drifted to undo his belt, but he heard you pass by his room on the way to the bathroom. Din paused in his process and walked out of his room⏤ almost like a man possessed. As he shut the door behind him quietly, as to not rouse Grogu, he heard the sound of the shower kick on. His body was moving before he fully registered the motion, and his knuckles rapped against the wooden door.

“Yeah?” Your muffled voice called out.

“Can I come in?” It was a weighted question, he knew, and judging on the silence that followed it you were aware of this as well. Your eventual reply was a soft affirmative noise, and Din found himself pushing the door open slowly. He’d keep all his movements slow. Din would give you every opportunity to push him away. The relationship between the two of you was a series of lines drawn in the sand, and Din knew he was blowing past every single one right now.

You stood at the bathroom counter, back to the mirror, and the shower off to the side was already running. His helmet’s sensor told him the water beating down was ice cold. 

“I was thinking a, uh, shower,” You cleared your throat, eyes not leaving him, “might be the best thing for me right now.”

Din gave a small nod. Then took another step in your direction, “I can help with that.” Din said every word slowly, took every step slowly, in order to give you every opportunity to stop him. “If you’d like.”

The corner of your lips twitched up, a sight that made him ache, and you shrugged. “The buttons on this shirt were really tricky.”

It was the only invitation he needed to close the remaining space between the two of you. Din cupped your face with his bare hands, thumbs caressing your cheeks, and he tilted your head up just so he could look at you. Maker, you were gorgeous. The light in your eyes, the way you glowed when you smiled, it put the stars to shame. 

“You’re a work of art, ner kar’ta.” He breathed.

“What does that one mean?” You asked softly. “Ner kar’ta.”

Din tilted his head with a chuckle, “If I told you, I’d have to come up with a new nickname to call you.” 

His fingers trailed down your neck and found the buttons that started at your collar. Din continued to move slowly as he undid each button of your shirt, but this time it was for his own sake rather than yours. He wanted to savor every second of touch he had with you. He soaked in the soft gasps you made every time his cold fingers brushed against your warm torso. 

“I like this look on you, by the way.” You whispered. Din hummed in response⏤ too busy admiring your bare skin to be decent at holding a real conversation. You leaned forward enough that he could pull the shirt down off your body leaving you in only a bra. “The t-shirt. With the beskar plated pants and boots⏤ plus that helmet. You’d have bounties quivering.”

Din ran his hands across your belly, over your sides, then up your back. So close now that his chest was pressed against yours. He kept his voice low and quiet. “Am I making you quiver?” The sharp breath you sucked in was a sound he’d have memorized for the rest of his life. Din let his hands explore your upper body determined to memorize that as well. 

Eventually his hands made it back to your chest and he let his fingers brush against the scar on your collarbone. Briefly he felt you stiffen. “Mesh’la.” Din reassured, then followed it up in a language you’d understand. “Beautiful. You are so kriffing beautiful, ner kar’ta.”

Din traced his hands downward, pausing over your breasts, then continued to drag his palms over your abdomen⏤ his thumb dipped against your navel. When his hands reached the waistband of your pants, he undid the button and zipper then knelt down in front of you. Din helped you step out of the first pants’ leg and he held his hand behind your knee allowing his thumb to tenderly caress circles against your calf. Din stared up at you the entire time. The pupils of your eyes were blown wide with desire and your tempting lips were parted. It was a look that Din wouldn’t mind staring up at forever. He’d spend the rest of his life on his knees for you if it meant you’d continue to look at him in this way.

“Pretty girl.” Din hummed as he worked to get your other leg untangled from the rest of your pants. He focused his gaze back to eye level and took in a shaky breath. Your dark underwear was a shade darker at the center, a damp spot he could just barely see, but it was enough to tell him you were in the same state of being nearly undone by the other. It was a match to the near painful hard on he had pressed against the thickness of his flight suit’s pants. 

It was absolute torture to be so close to what he wanted, but still be separated by so much. Din had never been so tempted to rip the helmet off his head just so he could press open mouthed kisses up your thigh to your damp center. He was an Apostate anyways according to the covert. That title just might be worth it for a taste of you.

“Din.” You breathed his name and he shuddered in response.

Maker, he wanted you to know how much you meant to him. Din wished he could string together paragraph after paragraph about how you made him feel. But, he was bad at talking. Din didn’t have the skills to voice how strong his thoughts were. Action though? Oh, Din was very good at action. And, he planned to reveal how strongly he felt for you with every touch he was allowed. You said Grogu would be asleep for another few hours. Din didn’t think that was near enough time, but it would be a good start to how he planned to worship your body.  

He may not be able to use his mouth, but years of being bound by this barrier made him very, very good with his hands. Din hooked his fingers under the bands of your panties with full intention to rip them off of you, but your hands suddenly landed on his.

Worried, his head snapped up to gauge if you were alright. “Cyar’ika⏤”

“I’m okay. I’m more than okay, I’m⏤” You took a slow, shuddering breath. “But if you get started, I’m going to absolutely fall apart, Din.”

“That’s exactly what I want, pretty girl.” Din chuckled. As the other nickname left his lips, Din wished he knew your real name. Calling you Soran, knowing the little he did, felt wrong. Another chuckle escaped him. It wasn’t often he was on the curious end of this conundrum. 

You ran your hands over his forearms, to his elbows, and you tried to pull him up to stand. Din, reluctantly, stood back up so he was towering over you once more. The bright smile that filled your features was enough to make it worth it. You reached out and set your hands on his shoulders. “It’s my turn to explore.” Din tilted his head, in genuine confusion, and you dragged your hands down to his abdomen. The tips of your fingers brushed against his bare skin and his entire body stiffened in response. “You’re wearing too much clothes.”

Din hesitated, only for a moment, before he reached back to grasp the collar of his shirt and pulled it up over his head. A nervous energy settled in his chest as he let the shirt fall to the bathroom floor. Din watched you as your small fingers ran across his abdomen, chest, and arms. Every scar you came across, you spent the time tracing it softly as he had yours. 

“Mesh’la.” You said though the pronunciation was just slightly off. He chuckled and your smile widened. Your hands trailed to his back and he felt you lightly dragging your nails against his skin. Goosebumps formed on his skin. “I’m serious though, Din. I could spend all day staring at you⏤ touching you.”

Din couldn’t help but shake his head. “You don’t have to lie. I think I have more scars than normal skin, at this point.”

“I’m not lying.” You replied. He didn’t think he could be more surprised by your actions, but you leaned in and pressed your lips against a rather gnarly patch of scarred skin on the left side of his chest where a vibroblade had cut through the armor he had before his beskar. Honest to Maker, an actual whimper slipped from him as his eyes fluttered closed. You continued on. Taking the time to press your lips against every scar you could find while mumbling about how beautiful he was between each one.

Din had never been so intimate with a person before. He was no stranger to sex, to carnal desires, but up until now every encounter had been a means to an end. Quick and to the point. Nearly every time, he’d still have on every piece of his armor. The partners he found would be in various stages of undress, but Din never felt comfortable enough to match them in that state. Everything about this moment was starkly different. He felt safe and he treasured every single tender second that passed. He craved it. Din craved you. Another difference. Before now, his sex life had been a series of hit and runs. Never the same person twice. It wasn’t necessarily a conscious choice, but Din was always traveling and nothing tempted him enough to return and repeat. 

You were not those other partners. Maker, he’d never get enough of you. Din knew that without a doubt and he technically hadn’t even fully touched you yet. That was the stranglehold you had on his mind, body, and soul.

When you pulled back, Din reopened his eyes to stare down at you. He cupped your face once more and for what had to be the thousandth time he wished he didn’t have a wall of beskar separating the two of you. Your hands lifted to hold over his then trailed down to his elbows. Without looking away from him, Din felt your hands on his abdomen. Tracing lower, lower, lower. You undid his belt then buried your hands into his pants to pull them down further. He could feel your hands against his thighs, and it was absolutely pathetic how close he came to falling apart just by having you near his cock.

The sudden loud banging of someone beating their fist against the front door of the house drifted down the hall into the bathroom, and it was just as jarring as if Din had stepped into the cold shower himself. Both of you froze, his hands cupping your face and your hands still buried in his pants. A beat of silence made Din hopeful, but it was followed by a now repeated banging that did not stop.

Din let out a groan and let his head fall forward to lightly rest against your forehead. His frustrated words came out in a near snarl. “I’m going to kill whoever is at the door.”

The sound of your quiet laugh loosened the tension in his shoulders but did nothing to the new level of frustration he had. You pulled your hands out of his pants, a loss that devastated Din, and placed them over his again.

“Well, you know what they say about anticipation.” You said.

“No.” Din shook his head. “I don’t. What do they say?”

Your smile turned sheepish as you shrugged. “I, uh, I don’t actually know.” Din’s lips curled into a smile of his own. “I didn’t think you’d call me on that. To be honest, words just sort of fall out of my mouth when I’m with you.” Din chuckled, and you squeezed his hands. “I don’t think my brain works right when my skin is touching yours.”

Din knew lust. He could recognize the hot, burning solar flare it tended to be. It was blinding. Like, a comet rushing by him leaving him spinning in the heated sparks of its tail end. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel that way with you⏤ Maker, knew that wasn’t the case⏤ but with you there was something else. It came on so slow that he didn’t even realize he felt the comforting warmth until it was nestled deep in his chest. The feeling planted roots in his soul and blossomed into something he couldn't live without. It was invigorating. It was life. It was standing in the sun on a warm day and soaking in every ray of warmth. 

“I need to answer the door.” You mumbled. “Before the knocking wakes up Grogu.”

Din nodded with another sigh. You turned your head, pressing your lips to the palm of his hand, then stepped away from him. You leaned over to turn the shower off⏤ the shower neither of you ever made it to⏤ and he bent over to scoop up his shirt. Din held it out to you. A deliberate decision. You raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t hesitate to pull his too large shirt over your head. Din nodded at the sight of you, appeased at seeing you in his clothes.

“I’ll be right there.” Din said as you hurried away. 

When he knew you were a safe distance away, he pulled his helmet off and rubbed his face with his hands. Anticipation. Din had been on the edge of anticipation for much too long. He was sliding straight into sexually frustrated now. At this rate, when he finally did get a taste of you it might just kill him. 

“Mando!” Your voice called out. He had already gotten used to hearing you use his name after one day. Enough so that the moniker disappointed him. Still, Din felt a flash of pride that his trust had been rewarded. He didn’t even need to tell you not to use his real name in front of others. You just knew. “It’s Karga!”

“I’ll be right there.” He called back and grabbed his helmet. Din would have to step back into his room to dress back into his gear before meeting the High Magistrate. One thing was for certain, he would not be sending Karga a kriffing fruit basket anymore.

mando’a translations

Mesh’la: Beautiful /// Cyar’ika: Sweetheart /// Ner Kar’ta: My Heart

taglist

@aheadfullofsteverogers @yyiikes @kneelforloki @c-ms1ut @sgt-morgan @luthienaliceisilra @fawn-kitten @missbabyjay @coldlamaspersonspy​ @dilfsaremyfavourite @jamesbuckybarnes @yorkeylover​ @teawrites01​ @emily-roberts​ @djarinxore​ @impala1967666​ @shelbyteller @faithrenner​

#the mandalorian #din djarin x you #din djarin #din djarin x reader #protective din djarin #good dad din djarin #mando x reader #mando #mando x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #mandalorian fanfic #Female reader #reader insert #slow burn #tension #all the tension

[3mcwritingmcuhcs]

How the Avengers Would React to You Falling Asleep on Their Shoulder

(Includes: Thor and Natasha, was gonna do more but i got tired lol, gonna be a part 2 posted later with other Avengers)

Now, we all know Thor is a huge himbo.

He's huge on physical affection--hugs, ruffling people's hair, patting them on the back--if he has adopted you as his friend, you are now subject to being bombarded with pure, wholesome, himbo interactions.

Now, let's say that one night, during one of the usual movie nights (bc you can't tell me that they didn't have any), you sat down next to him. Well, as we've established, he is very physically affectionate, which means that whoever ends up next to him pretty much volunteers to be his personal teddy bear.

One week it was Steve, the next it was Tony (though if ever brought up, he'd only pull up a video of when Thor did it to Steve), honestly, almost everyone had been in that position.

But this night, you were more tired than usual. Training had been harder that day, you hadn't gotten a great amount of sleep, and you were just exhausted.

Enter Thor's natural cuddliness.

You scooted up next to him on the large couch, leaning your head back against his side. Before you knew it, the comfortable warmth combined with him shifting to where your head was cushioned against his rather voluptuous pecs, had meant you were entirely too comfortable.

Five minutes into the movie and you were out.

Thor didn't notice until Natasha pointed out, too entranced with the strange Midgardian performance on the screen.

"Huh, I guess she wasn't exaggerating when she said she was exhausted," Natasha had commented, making Thor look to his left, only for that movement to cause you to slide.

Luckily, you didn't wake up, and instead only curled closer into his side.

Thor just looked down at you in awe.

You looked so pretty.

He stayed entirely still for the rest of the movie night, determined to let you rest as long as you needed.

He succeeded, but at the cost of him also dozing off on the couch.

The rest of the team saw the content expressions and let you two be, though a certain someone was very tempted to draw mustaches on the both of you.

Natasha isn't a super touchy person.

After years of being nothing but a weapon for other's use, her bodily autonomy was something she couldn't bear to lose.

That's not to say that she couldn't be autonomous while still having no problem with touch, but she had used her body to get what others wanted for years.

She couldn't just forget all that and be able to hug people like anybody else. She had to work through it. And though she spent years reclaiming herself, making things right, things still stuck.

With the people she genuinely cared about, she was comfortable with physical affection, but she also didn't feel pressured into giving it. She didn't have to act like nothing phased her.

With you, she could just be Nat, not "the Black Widow" or "Natalie Rushman" or even "Natasha Romanoff". She wasn't an Avenger or a spy or an agent.

She was just her.

Given how close the two of you were, you had grown to understand her unease with sudden physical affection.

You respected her boundaries, only giving her that type of affection when she specifically said that it was okay.

One day though, you broke your rule of asking first.

It was dark out, the two of you were on the roof of the compound, looking up at the sky.

You were both sitting up, talking quietly, the occasional laugh exchanged.

But you had severely underestimated how tired you were.

Natasha felt your head rest on her shoulder, being faintly surprised just because you hadn't asked as you usually did.

But when she saw that your eyes were closed and your breathing was slow and even, she smiled softly.

Sure, touch wasn't her forte, but you had never made her uncomfortable, you had never pressured her, you had always stood close (but not too close, because you understood her need for personal space), and smiled at her sincerely no matter what.

Having you fall asleep on her shoulder, well, it just felt like the most pure affirmation that you trusted her.

And maybe she wouldn't let most people do it.

But you weren't most people.

#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fluff #thor x reader #thor x you #thor x y/n #thor odinson #avengers x reader #the avengers

[call-sign-shark]

Hey Bunny pt. 2 || Yandere!Arthur Shelby x Reader

Summary: You try to escape. Arthur is clearly unhappy with that: don't you understand that you're made for each other?

Words: 5k

TW: Drugs use, unreliable narrator, unrequited love, graphic depictions of violence, blood, domestic violence, allusions to non-consensual sex, stalking, depiction of obsessive behavior, horror, psychological manipulation, — this is dark, experimental, and out of character.

Notes: Italicized+bold are quotes from the show said by Arthur.

PART 1. || Masterlist

How many days went by since Arthur Shelby brought you home?

Such information was impossible for you to tell, especially because of the throbbing headache that was still hammering your skull. What you knew though was that you could not help feeling exhausted and slightly ill. The sensation was quite hard to describe, but it mainly manifested itself with a general weakness; to the extent you had trouble standing for too long, on top of being the unlucky owner of a constant dizziness that left you disoriented. Gathering all your feeble strength, you tried to open the bedroom window for more air but nothing happened when you pulled its handle. You frowned, confused, but you hadn’t enough energy to insist nor to investigate further — your legs were threatening to give up at any moment. It was with drawling steps that you came back to bed, your flickering frame collapsing on the mattress. Then, you sunk your face into the pillow and whined.

“How’s me little Bunny doing today?”

You raised your face from the comfortable pillow at the sound of Arthur’s hoarse and low voice, looking at him above your shoulder. His tall silhouette was standing in front of the door, holding a plate: he came to bring your dinner. “I still feel exhausted, Arthur. It’s really unpleasant…” You replied with a little voice, for even speaking seemed to require too much effort. At this point, your fatigue was becoming a real nuisance — which was odd considering how full of energy you usually were. You rolled on the bed to lie on your back, your beautiful but so-tired eyes looking at the ceiling with tears dawning at their corner, “I don’t think it’s normal. Maybe we should call a doctor?” You suggested, bringing your trembling hands to your forehead to wipe the thin layer of sweat that was covering it. Arthur remained silent and stared at you for a little while, his steel blue eyes slightly squinted as if he was actively thinking about his answer. Finally, he let out a little sigh and walked to the bed, first putting the plate he had in his hands on the nightstand before sitting on the edge of the bed. Once he did so, he gently grazed your cheek with his fingertips as if he had been afraid to break you with his simple touch. The physical contact with the leather of his gloves had the immediate effect to make you relax. Surprisingly enough, the infamous Arthur Shelby had been a real sweetheart with you these past few days. Indeed, the man was at your bedside, constantly spoiling you with care, good food, and company. The moments you appreciated the most were certainly when he held you in his long arms and fondled your hair, telling you about his favorite childhood memories or the many mischiefs he did with his little brothers. The more you talked, the more the emotional facet of Arthur you discovered, and the more your tiny soft spot for him grew. During this loving moment, you’d always end up dozing off, lulled by the warmth of his gravel voice. Such kindness definitely unsettled you though, when thinking about the Hell you’ve been through for months because of him. But when you thought about that it seemed too anchored in the past for you to really hate him. Moreover, people changed — or at least that was what you liked to believe.

“S’alright, love.”  He whispered in a tone so soft, so loving, that you could not help but offer him a tiny and genuine smile; which made the gangster’s heart flutter — he bit the inside of his cheek. Fuck, you were so cute, lying in his bed, depending on him. Arthur stopped his caresses only to lay down next to you. He uplifted his body with one arm to lean over your frame,  “The doctor came when ye were asleep eh. ‘Told me you caught a little something but it’s nothing serious. All ye need is rest and someone to take care of ye. Which is exactly what your Arthur does hmm.” He almost purred. The gangster had brought his face closer — so close that his nose was grazing your ear and his lips, hungry for you, were ghosting over your jaw.  A deep shiver ran down your body at the caress of his scorching breath against your freezing skin. Despite his care and the comfort he gave you these last few days, you still turned your head to the other side to deny him access to your mouth. It did not seem to bother him though.  His feverish sigh brushed the sensitive skin of your neck. “I brought ye dinner. It’s me Aunt who cooked it, yer going to like it. It’s yer favorite meal…”  He let his sentence hang for his lips and pressed a delicate kiss right on your throat— A surge of electricity crossed through your body and died between your legs, leaving you a bit confused. Your brows slightly furrowed in response as one of his calloused hands languidly ran down your ribs, right above the fabric of the shirt he had lent you, “Me clothes suit you well, y’know.” The sight of you wearing nothing but your lace panties and one of his far-too-large shirts gave his stomach butterflies. 

Something wasn’t coherent. How could a doctor came and diagnosed you without you even noticed it? Even asleep, you’d have heard something. 

“Arthur— please…” You called him, your weak little hands trying to gently push him away, “Can you— can you tell me what happened again? I’m trying so hard to remember but everything is foggy. I feel like my mind has erased everything of this awful party…”  Which was ultimately true. At your request, Arthur hummed and pulled his face back from your neck only to lock you in an intense stare, the proximity between you small enough for your noses to still touch. 

“Of course, love.” The fingers of his free hands stopped fondling your body and reached your face in order to trap your chin between his thumb and his index,  “Ye were partying at the Garrison when a bastard bothered you. Ye spent a bit of time with him outside, wearing light clothes.  The doc’ said it was prolly why you caught somethin’ eh.” Listening attentively, you swallowed the lump in your throat. Arthur was clingy, so clingy that it stirred conflicting feelings In you. A part of you tensed at the thought of this criminal you barely knew being so lovey-dovey with you, with his hands and lips roaming freely on your frail body. The other part, lost and tired, was looking for any kind of comfort it could find, and the comfort of his arms outmatched everything you had ever experienced. “At some point, I checked if everything was okay but I overheard your conversation and he wanted to bring ye home. I heard you yelling so… I beat the shit out of this cunt and brought ye here safe.”  

“You did?” Your voice was merely an exhausted meowing as you offered him another smile; He nodded in reply. Very timidly, you put your hand on the back of his head and pressed your forehead against his at the realization that he probably saved you from getting abused.

Something is wrong, that was what your instinct whispered to your ear.

Yet, your lonely heart was tamed by his softness. Could it be possible that you’ve misjudged him? Sure, what he did to Gaspard was unforgivable and he had sincerely creeped you out, but… Maybe he didn’t mean to do harm? After all, he protected you, so he could not be that bad right? Stuck in this suspended moment of utter tenderness, you observed the very details of his face as if it was the first time you saw him. Your heart missed a very small beat at his adorable freckles and the way his dark lashes fluttered when your breath melted with his — the oldest Shelby brother was definitely good-looking and charming. A kind of wild and raw charm.

Arthur could have stayed like this forever, lost in the beauty of your gaze and locked up in this room with you, but unfortunately, Tommy wanted to see him tonight and he could not say no to Shelby’s business. His lips parted and the words left his mouth reluctantly. “I’ll have to go right? Eat your dinner. Drink your nightly glass of milk and try to sleep hmm.” He hummed against the corner of your mouth . The vibration of his voice combined with the sensation of his facial hair melted your core and sent a wave of warmth in your belly. Finally, he kissed you there one last time before forcing himself to get up. This was at the moment he was about to leave the bed that Arthur felt the feeble grip of your little fingers closing on the fabric of his vest’s sleeve, trying to hold him back.

“Stay with me, please.” You sniffed, for his presence and the devoted way he took care of you made you feel safe. Something you hadn’t experienced in years. Your hazel eyes, whose color reminded him of sunlight going through a pool of honey, shone with a beseeching look, “Art’… Pretty please.”

“Oh… Bunny.” Arthur clenched his jaws — he felt his heart’s pace quicken in his chest at your intoxicating words and at the submissive way you were looking at him. At this very moment, keeping the thought of ruining you out of his mind was the most difficult struggle he had always faced. War in France was nothing compared to the restless battle that was happening in his soul. Arthur bit the inside of his cheek harder until the metallic taste of blood flooded his tastebuds and soothed his violent desire. His whole being had lit up with such an indescribable euphoria that you almost saw the flames dancing in the frozen desert of his eyes, “I’ll be back soon and stay with ye forever,” He let out a long and shaky exhale from his nostrils in an attempt to keep his brutal emotions in line. For sure he didn’t want to burst into hysterical laughter in front of you and scare you away. Not after everything he did, everything he sacrificed to make this moment happen. Once he managed to alleviate his inner turmoil, the gangster gently took your little hand in his and kissed each of your knuckles with indescribable tenderness.  “Sleep tight and wait for me, I’ll come back soon, slip under your bedsheet and keep ye warm eh.”

You did not wait long after Arthur left the house to eat what he had brought. Despite your poor health condition, you surprisingly felt like you were starving. Eating the last slice of bread, your lips stretched in a faint smile: he didn’t lie when he said you were going to love it. His aunt truly cooked like a chief, and you mentally noted down that you’d had to compliment her for her cooking skills the day you’ll meet her. Following this pleasant meal, your general fatigue caught up with you and you decided to go back to sleep rather quickly. A little yawn escaped from your lips — never mind the glass of milk. You left it on the nightstand, untouched, because you were already dozing off. Ready to sleep, you snuggled in the good-smelling sheet, made yourself comfortable in the large bed, and even found the best position… But Morpheus didn’t want you anymore. Worst than not sleeping, you emerged from your torpor only twenty minutes later, with an insufferable aching feeling that twisted your stomach. The pain had been so sudden, so vivid, that you sat up straight on the mattress, your eyes wide-opened and cold sweat running down your spine. The room started to spin around you for what seemed to be an eternity — and it spin so bad your nails dug into the bedsheet in a desperate attempt not to faint. Your heart was beating so fast that you could feel it pulsing in your throat, ready to be thrown up and run away by itself. But despite these sudden symptoms, all the indescribable and odd fatigue you went through for the last couple of days had entirely vanished, leaving you well-awake. The only reminder of your weak condition was the bitter taste that remained on your tongue. 

“Hell…” You exhaled slowly, the heavy nausea and dizziness you just experienced finally decreasing, but the relief was short. Indeed, it was at the very moment you started to feel better than the musky and masculine perfume that was floating in the room struck you. To these peculiar fragrances, your body reacted with another fit of panic: you could recognize this cologne among thousands of others, for its owner had been the bane of your existence since the night you met at the Garrison. Arthur Shelby’s scent was all around you. It impregnated the bedsheets and stuck to your own body and hair so strongly you even wondered if he hadn’t crawled under your skin in your sleep. With renewed energy, you jumped from the bed like a cat that had just touched water, and looked all around you with quick and erratic movements: this was not your bedroom.

“No,  no…” You repeated, slipping one moist palm in your fire hair, and slicking it back, all the while your mind began swirling in a whirlwind of utter panic. However, you knew you had to stay the calmest you could if you wanted to understand what was happening and if you wanted to find a solution. Hence, you focused on the cold sensation of the wooden floor to keep track of reality. After wiggling your toes a few times, the realization that you were almost naked slowly crept into your mind, “No…” A gasp escaped from your lips when you looked down and discovered that you were only dressed in your panties and a man’s shirt that was running too large for you. The same shirt you saw Arthur wore sometimes. That damn white shirt with thin dark stripes. Panic settled in your bones again, making your breath hitched and your throat tightened as if an invisible hand was trying to choke you, “Calm down Y/N, calm down!” You scolded yourself. In an ultimate attempt to remain stoic, you focused on your shaking hands — as your mother had taught you before your very first day of school. However, it wasn’t the way your fingers shook that grabbed your attention but rather the burns and scars of ropes that were engraved in your wrists. The marks, still a bit reddened, showed how harsh Arthur had been. You took a few steps back as if you had just been stricken, and wobbled under the violence of the chaotic flashbacks that suddenly assaulted your mind.

The bottle of whiskey shattering on the ground.

The ropes hanging from a gloved hand.

Arthur’s lanky body pressed against yours, trapping you against the wall. Oh Bunny… I won’t hurt ye.

Ropes biting on your skin?

In search of the truth, your eyes quickly traveled on any visible parts of your body. Then, you saw them: similar marks on your thighs and ankles. The sole sight of them triggered a stream of uncontrollable tears to overflow from your eyes, and helped you reconstitute what happened during your odd blackout: Arthur Shelby had kidnapped you. The disgusting epiphany made you feel sick in your stomach all of a sudden. Yet, many questions still remained, buzzing in your head like a hive of furious hornets: how did he manage to abduct you? Why couldn’t you remember anything? And why were you so docile these past few days? In truth, all these interrogations would have been left without answer if your gaze did not fall upon the still-full glass of milk that was on the nightstand. Water had beaded over the surface as the beverage warmed up due to the room temperature, trickling down the glass just like your crystal tears did down your cheeks.

“He drugged the fucking milk…”  You whispered with a broken voice. It was all becoming clear. Yes, your excruciating fatigue and dizziness suddenly made sense. Arthur had purposefully drugged your daily glass of milk to keep you all nice and quiet, hence finding another use for the meds the doctor had prescribed him. Consequent to this last information, your self-control broke down — it was too much to handle.

 “FUCKING SICK BASTARD!!!” You yelled, for your repressed panic exploded in a fit of anger and sadness. The feeling of betrayal was so excruciating and your hopelessness so crushing that all you could do was grabbed the glass of milk and smashed it against the floor. The white liquid splattered all over the parquet and filled the small space between each board. Then, not relieved by this violent gesture, you pulled your hair and screamed louder, eyes squeezed tight and lungs burning. Never in your life you had felt so close to losing your goddamn mind — and it was awfully One sole rational thought crossed your mind at that moment: you had to get the fuck out of here before he came back. Without further waiting, you rushed to the door like a chased rabbit and tried to open it — but of course, it was locked. What were you expecting? “SON OF A BITCH!!” You screamed, shaking the handle as fiercely as you could, but the door remained shut and only the only thing that replied to your desperate shrieks was the dull silence of an empty house.

Truth was, the most logical part of you knew that no matter what you attempted, it would not work. And this last conclusion killed the last bit of control that remained in your soul. Slipping into a temporary fit of fear-induced insanity, you slammed your tiny body against the heavy wooden door one first time. Your being shook at the collision with the hard surface but it didn’t stop you. Quite the contrary, adrenaline had numbed your nerves and you were more than ready to destroy your bones in bits if it was the price to pay for freedom. “OPEN IT!!” You roared, crashing yourself against the door a second time. A big thud resonated in the house. “FUCKING OPEN IT!” Another impact. And another. And another until all your strength left your body, exhausted by useless efforts. Silence fell again in Arthur’s bedroom: the only sound that could be heard was your erratic and whistling breath.  You might as well face if: you were trapped for good, with no way out of this hell. All you did after your fit was to let your back slide along the door until you ended up sitting on the floor, hopeless. As your eyes aimlessly wandered around you, you noticed a sheet of paper floating in the puddle of milk. Curious, you frowned and tilted your head to the side to look at the drawing that was on it. The sketchy and dark lines were forming the shapes of a bunny, lying limp into the fangs-filled jaws of a creepy-looking wolf. You started crying again. And so did the bunny, for the milk had made the ink that composed the drawing run down the animal’s face in tar-black tears.

 

Arthur had been looking forwards to coming back home.

During the whole mission, his mind kept obsessing over the sight of you, peacefully sleeping in his bed with your doll face relaxed and your long fiery mane spread out on the immaculate white sheets. He had nervously moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue at the maddening memory of your feeble voice begging him to stay by your side — a sentence that was playing on repeat in his mind like a broken record. The way you had looked at him, with teary eyes and lips parted, got him on his knees. With spiraling thoughts all revolving around you, Arthur didn’t even reply to Tommy when the latter talked to him about the Epsom Derby and the Eden’s Club. All he did was stare blankly at the wall facing him, lost in the meanders of his own sick brain. The club, the races, the money, the pretty dancers, he didn’t care anymore. All that mattered was your frail arms around his body and the intoxicating way your lips grazed his burning skin when you nestled your face in the crook of his neck. 

Tommy and John quickly glanced at each other after witnessing one too many of their older brother’s absences, but still, they did not ask any questions. Masculinity obliged. Moreover, it was not unusual for Arthur’s gaze to turn into the thousand-yard stare, especially after the war. Somehow he had never fully returned from France, like many other veterans. Like John and Tommy themselves — it was just more frequent in Arthur’s case. When Tommy told him they were done for tonight, Arthur simply mumbled a gruff “Alright, see ye brothers” before leaving with hastened steps, his tall silhouette disappearing in the dark veil of the nights with the walk of a preying wolf.

“Something’s wrong with Arthur lately.” Thomas Shelby’s husky and quiet voice stated as his mesmerizing turquoise eyes still remained fixed to the horizon, even after the darkness of Birmingham’s streets had swallowed his brother’s frame.

“Something’s always wrong with Arthur anyway.” John shrugged.

They never talked about it ever again.

As soon as he came home, the gangster hung up his long black coat stained with dried blood behind the door and threw his cap on the living room’s coffee table. Before heading upstairs, he stopped in front of the corridor’s mirror to slick his hair back, smooth his mustache and rearrange his bow tie: he had to be perfect for you. After a very short while of dolling himself up, Arthur finally grabbed the red carnation he had brought earlier and went up without wasting any more time. So late in the night you were certainly sleeping, but still, he had promised you to crawl in the bed, and, to be honest, he didn’t want to miss an opportunity to feel your dainty body against his. So strong, rough, and scarred. Stealthily, he walked to the bedroom, careful not to make any loud noise that would disturb your well-deserved rest. Yet, he stopped at the door and hesitated once he arrived – his heart went wild at the simple thought of seeing you. Arthur clenched his jaws, his mind spinning round and round to the point he had to grip the handle to keep himself from slipping into madness. That was because of this unpleasant feeling of being overwhelmed by his love that he took a blue little vial out of his trouser’s pocket and poured the white powder it contained on the back of his hand. Blocking one nostril with his index, Arthur snorted the cocaine line in one row, coughed a little bit, and then threw his head back, letting out a long and raspy moan. His lips parted as a sweet cocktail of euphoria and energy spread in him in a warm wave. Now he felt better, now he felt invincible. After that little boost, Arthur entered the room with a smile etched on his lips and closed the door behind him. What an unpleasant surprise it was for him when he saw you sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at him with your face distorted by both anger and disgust. His smirk soon vanished when he noticed your eyes, swollen and bloodshot from hours of crying.

“Bunny?” He asked with a tinge of worry in his voice.

“You’ve kidnapped me.” You replied, biting down your enraged sobs. The gangster opened his mouth to reply to your cutting remark, but no sound came out: you had taken him aback. Instead, his steel-blue eyes quickly searched for the glass of milk, which he found smashed on the floor. It didn’t take much more for him to understand what had happened.

“It’s not what ye think, love.” He tried to remain quiet but panic was already setting in him. The red carnation slipped from his fingertips and fell on the wooden floor.

“You’ve locked me up in your bloody bedroom, almost naked…” Even you barely believed the words you were speaking, for they sounded almost surreal. It surely was a nightmare. An awful, awful nightmare.

“Fuck me.” Arthur grunted when he noticed the damaged door handle, undeniable proof that you had done everything in your power to escape. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat… You had tried to escape. In a matter of seconds, Arthur’s heart rate increased, and his mouth dried at the escalating anger he was experiencing. Why? Why would you want to escape? The first flicker of irritation manifested itself with the way his body tensed and the long inhale he took.

“I—I want to leave.” You said as firmly as you could, standing up in front of the bed.

“Leave?” His forehead creased above his frowning brows, “Nah, you ain’t leaving.” He straight off replied. All the softness and the honey with which he usually talked to you had disappeared, handing over a corrosive hostility. You batted your eyes, not recognizing him anymore. But despite everything, Arthur did try his best not to let the destructive rage that was burning within overcome him. Gathering all his willpower, he gave a dismissive wave of his hand and went on “Yer going to come back to bed eh. And yer going to let me take care of you, right? We’ll talk about it after a good night of sleep ‘cause you’re not thinking straight at the moment.” He talked slowly, making several short pauses in between words for he was fighting against the urge to let the switch in his brain flip. But the way he handled the situation, dismissing the problem and ordering you to go back to bed as if everything was normal made you lose your temper.

“Are you fucking serious? You think I’m going to obey and go back to bed? So what, Arthur? Do you want me to spread my legs for you and then thank you for fucking abducting me?” Now you were yelling, fear temporarily replaced by a blinding hatred you had never felt in your whole life, “You’re a maniac, a fucking sick bastard!” Tears flooded your vision as you spoke, "You've been ruining my life for months!"

“Stop it.” He said, as calmly as he could, his eyes flickering between you and his boots. Blood was boiling in his veins.

“The fuck is wrong with you ey?! You’ve tied me with ropes… You kept drugging me to use me as your puppet and satisfy your fucking twisted urges… Christ, Arthur!” Your voice boomed in the room. Carried on by your hatred, confidence grew in you and you approached him step by step, " Wake the fuck up!"

“Stop it.” Arthur had trouble breathing, his anger nearly suffocating him as seconds passed. He clenched his fist until his scarred knuckles whitened – God knew he didn’t want to hurt you, but a vortex of rage swirled inside him, and he knew he was about to reach his breaking point in a minute or another. Trying hard to suppress his caustic wrath, he slowly broke the distance between you and brushed your hips with his trembling fingers in a seemingly soft gesture, “Stop it, Bunny.”

But his touch felt like he had stabbed you with a knife.

“STOP CALLING ME BUNNY! MY NAME’S Y/N FOR FUCK’ SAKE. I’m not your bloody bunny! I’m nothing, and so you are!”  You almost choked with your screams, pushing him with a surprising strength – At least, it had been enough to make him take a few steps back. “Get fucked, Arthur Shelby.” That being said, you pushed him again and rushed to the door in an attempt to run away from him. But Arthur’s reflexes were sharp, enhanced by cocaine, and he managed to catch you by the arm before you could reach the exit. Surely you didn't mean it, you were just a bit... Confused. But soon you'd understand that you loved him too.

“Y/N.” He scolded but you weren’t listening anymore. You didn’t want to listen, you wanted to leave this damn place and you wanted it now. Guided by panic, you threw a nasty punch right at his chin -- your knuckles aching from the shock with his jawbone. When you realized what you had just done, it was already too late. Arthur’s face turned to the side at the violence of your blow, making him bite his tongue so hard he felt the metallic taste of blood exploding in his mouth. Then, silence fell in the room. The threatening and chilling silence which follows the blast of a bomb, right before the screams and cries start to echo. “What the hell did ye…” He muttered, bringing his trembling free hand to his bleeding mouth. The other was still firmly holding your arm, keeping you from escaping so firmly that he almost broke your bone. His fair eyes, adorned with pretty lashes and charming crow feet, suddenly darkened like a predator that had just smelt the distress of a wounded prey.

“Let me go!” You whined, pulling on your arm as fiercely as you can and clawing his hand with your nails to try to break from his grip.

“ALRIGHT THEN!” He burst out, definitely losing control. With brutal movements, Arthur pounced on you with the strength of a rabid wolf, and trapped your wrists with one of his hands before pushing you against the nearby wall to pin them above your head, “Al-fucking-right! Are we hitting each other now? That’s what ye want?!”  He barked loudly with blood dripping from his mouth, only a few inches away from your face. “Did I laid a fookin’ finger on you? Nah, so the least you can do is be FOOKIN’ civilized!” A cry of pain escaped from your lips as he shoved you a second time against the wall, the collision between it and your frail body making all your bones shake.

“You’re hurting me!” You lamented, wriggling under his grip. The gangster was holding your wrists so tight that your fingertips were starting to tingle.

“Am I?” He replied in a low growl – Arthur’s lips stretched into a carnivorous smile, showcasing blood-stained teeth whose canines were pointy. His face was red, his rage highlighted with the pumping vein on his forehead, “Listen to me. I don’t bloody know what the hell yer implying, but I didn’t satisfy my urges, as you said. If it had been the case, you would have woken up every day with cum dripping down yer tight pussy.” All you could see now was the white of his eyes. “I would have ruined ye until ye could not walk anymore, filled every fookin’ hole of your body,” He pressed you harder against the wall, his words stirring desire in him, “Marked every inch of your skin,” He licked the blood off his lips with the tip of his tongue, the taste only arousing his more, "Made you fookin' choke on my cock ‘til you’d look at me with teary eyes and drool running down your bratty mouth." The sparkle that lit up his steel-blue eyes betrayed how he enjoyed keeping you restrained -- and probably how the darkest side of his obsessive love would love to make such things to you, "So don’t make me fookin’ regret being a gentleman with ye.”

“Please Arthur, stop! I—I wanna go home please…” You begged him, despair and terror overcoming you.

“Now ye say please, ey! Now you ain’t callin’ me a maniac anymore, are ye?!” He let out a hoarse and menacing chuckle, spitting a few droplets of blood at your face as he did, “That’s not how ye should talk to your bloody man, sweetheart.” With ragged breath and bare teeth, you knew Arthur was at the very edge of going for your throat.

Yet, you looked at him straight in the eyes through your tears and spat at his face, disgusted by all he had said. “You’re not my man and you’ll never be!”

“YOU FUCKING BITCH!” Trembling with rage, and fury shining in his eyes, Arthur grabbed you fiercely and threw you on the floor, right where the glass shards were scattered. You had barely understood what had just happened when the piercing and excruciating sensation of the glass cutting your flesh awoke in your body. You yelled in pain, your voice so loud that it did not seem human anymore – you sounded like prey screaming with agony. Terrified and in utter panic, you wanted to move but didn’t, for the sight of your own blood suddenly made you feel sick. You were bleeding. Fucking bleeding.

“Oh God, oh God…” You sobbed.

“Why don’t ye understand that I fookin’ love you eh?!” Arthur brawled even louder, standing in front of you and towering over you with all his height as you were crying in crimson stains of fresh blood and shattered glass, “We're made for each other, Bunny. I know it. I knew it from the moment ye smiled at me at the Garrison: you wanted me to come for you... And here I am, love! All fookin' yours!" He said, opening up his arms and tilting his head slightly to the side, his lips stretched in a blood-stained and frightening grin. As your eyes watched him with horror, you understood the extent of his madness. Then, Arthur leaned over you and grabbed you by the neck to bring you closer again. In a reflex, you shut your eyes tight at the sensation of his calloused hand tightening around your throat, “I won’t let you leave me, hm?” He groaned. His breath – erratic and panting – crashed on your face, “I’ll tell you…” He started with his low and gruff voice, whose gravel tones broke the last will of fighting that remained in you, “All you’re gonna do now is be a good fuckin’ wife,” He breathed heavily, while his free hand roamed over your face in a soft caress. In the violence of your fight, some strands of his hair had come loose and were now hanging down his sharp face, “Yeah, like the perfect couple. We’ll go in the bathroom hm.” Arthur strangle you a tiny bit harder to feel your heartbeat against his palm, which resulted in you moaning in pain. “ We’ll go in the bathroom. We’ll get you all clean yeah.” His lips crashed against yours without searching for your consent, stealing a few pecks from your plump lips before his voice turned into a whisper, “Yeah. We’ll make love, hmm?” He kissed you again and again until his light pecks weren't enough for him and he decided to let his tongue force its way into your mouth. The taste of whisky and blood overwhelmed you. Desperate, you tried to move away, for you were suffocating as he moaned softly and low in your mouth, but he was too strong.

“Please…” You begged against his lips, sobbing — but he remained unmoved by your cries. The room was spinning all around you as you realized how stupid you had been thinking you could have escaped. How suicidal it was to underestimate his obsession with you.

With trembling fingers, you cautiously touched the back of the hand that was choking you. Despite your thoughts crashing into each other in your skull and the despair that was beating you down, you still managed to understand one essential thing: you had to calm him down. You had to do it if you didn’t want him to kill you out of anger – especially since his brutal and crazy fit was enhanced by the fact he was high.  Yes, you definitely had to find a way to lure him into a more stable mood…Because you just knew that if he couldn’t have you, no one else would. With everything it implied. Gathering your courage, you looked up and hold his gaze even though pure terror shone in your hazel iris, “I’m… I’m sorry Arthur…” You gritted your teeth, black dots dancing in front of your eyes. Air. You needed some air.

“Hmm?” He replied, his lips still grazing yours. Nevertheless, the tender sensation of your skin against his made him loosen his grip around your neck.

“You’re—You’re right. We’ll do that.”

“Are we?” He groaned, rubbing his cheek against yours like a wildcat. If he could have purred at this moment, he would have certainly do so.

You forced a smile, but tears still ran down uncontrollably from your honey eyes, “Yes Arthur.” You finally said, letting his void swallow you whole. Why would you fight? Your fate was sealed, and you just knew you would never leave. Your future was to be with him and nothing would ever change that. Even if you managed to escape one day, you knew he would track you down until you were either his or dead and cold. All you could do now was just do your best not to get yourself killed.

A few days ago you were Y/N. A young and joyful student, whose excellent grades and good nature made your mother proud. Now you were just Bunny. Fucked up and enslaved Bunny. And Bunny belonged to Arthur Shelby.

For the best.

But particularly the worst.

Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

The image of the limo rabbit in the wolfs mouth was an idea of the talented @zablife

Tagging some of Arthur’s bunnies: @helen06dreamer @zablife @brummiereader @peakyltd @peakyswritings @dearshelby @raincoffeeandfandoms @kissforvoid @psychadelichues @shelbydelrey

Gif by Ria (@alicent-targaryen)

#peaky blinders #Arthur shelby #Peaky blinders imagine #Arthur shelby x reader #Peaky blinders x reader #arthur shelby x y/n #arthur shelby x ofc #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders fanfic #Tommy shelby #A little too much #dark fanfiction #yandere x reader #dark!arthur shelby

[kheni-universe]

Gojo Satoru, your busy sorcerer husband

You've been married to Gojo Satoru for four years. You met when you went from Kyoto Jujutsu Tech to Tokyo Jujutsu School.

It was not easy being a Sorcerer and married to the strongest Sorcerer. You and Satoru barely have time for one other, let alone go on dates or simply converse about each other's days. Despite this, you both managed to maintain a solid and lovely relationship.

2:00 a.m. on October 21st

Y/n had just returned home to their apartment after exorcising the last grade 1 curse ghost assigned to her by Yaga , downtown. She set her keys and phone on the counter as she moved to their living room couch, letting her body drop down on it. She breathed deeply, releasing her emotions and exhaustion. Her phone began to ring as she was slowly dozing off.

"I might kill the person who's calling right now," she told herself. Standing up, she dragged herself to the counter to answer her phone.

She answered the phone without even looking at the caller ID.

"Hello, my lovely wife," the other line says cheerfully.

She then began to consider what she had just thought earlier.

What do you want?" She has a fatigued tone in her voice.

"Heh thats not a great tone to hear as you greet your husband whom you havent seen in a while, sweetheart."

Right, Y/n and Satoru haven't seen each other in a few days due to their hectic schedules, and they don't even see each other in their apartment because none of them comes home to relax.

She hummed, "Hmm."

For around 10 seconds, there was silence before Satoru spoke.

"You home?" he inquired, his tone different from before.

"Yeah...just got home. You?"

"Hmm well I'm outside right now supervising my dear students for their first grade 1 cursed spirit." He went on to say.

"Then why'd you call?"

"Is it bad if I call my lovely wife?" he asked in a teasing tone.

The silence returned.

"I missed you, you know.."

He spoke in hushed tones.

She sighed deeply before responding.

"I missed you too, idiot"

His lips curled into a grin.

"Call later when your done ,I wanna sleep.."

She said as she looked down at her wedding band.

"Whaa, my darling wife got bored on me now, how mean," he teased, noticing how silent her wife is on the other line.

"Mhmm okay then, I probably won't call since you will be asleep anyway. Get some sleep then, my tsundere"

"You idiot, don't call me that," she hissed under her breath.

"Hahaha Ill call you whatever I want, sweetheart... Go to sleep... I love you" he blurted out.

She remained silent for a split second as she fidgeted with her ring. "Love you too, Asshole"

As Satoru ended the call, he looked at the building where he could watch his students fight the curse with a wide grin on his face.

"I love you more, Y/n." he said quietly before leaping down the building to assist his students.

#jjk imagines #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #fluff #marriage #gojou satoru x reader #fypシ #Spotify

[navybrat817]

Don't Let Go - Prologue

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Series Summary: Bucky Barnes breaks your heart after a passionate night together. Doing your best to pick up the pieces, you try to distance yourself and move on. When he comes back into your life and refuses to walk away, will you give him a second chance or let him go for good? Prologue Summary: Bucky reflects on the past, present and future with you while you sleep. Word Count: Over 800 Series Warnings: Explicit sexual content, vaginal sex (wrap it before you tap it), pregnancy, angst, angst with a happy ending, miscommunication, violence, more tags to be added, Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: This is series I hope you have out in a few weeks! This idea wouldn't leave my mind and I hope you lovelies enjoy this journey. While the prologue is from Bucky's POV, most or all of the series will be from your POV. ❤️ Beta read by the beautiful @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Also thanks to @11thstreetvigilante, @sweeterthanthis and @dreamlessinparis for letting me scream about this. Banner and moodboard by yours truly. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblogfor new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!

The safehouse was quiet as Bucky did a second sweep, his feet silently padding across the floor as he listened and looked for anything out of place. He couldn't be too careful. He wondered if he should've taken Steve up on his offer to stay, but you were already overwhelmed with one overbearing super-soldier. If anyone would keep you safe, it was going to be him. Not to mention, he selfishly wanted time alone with you to fix his mistake.

Even when you vehemently snapped that once you were safe, you'd be out of his life. 

Not happening, doll.

Once he was satisfied that everything was in order, he made his way back to the bedroom at the end of the hall. You were still asleep on your side of the bed with a soft blanket over you, having dozed off minutes ago. He was thankful you managed to get some rest. You fought to close your eyes when you got ready for bed and you needed a good night's sleep.

You also didn't want him to sleep in the same room as you, but you lost that fight. 

He knew this wasn't easy. You were a good agent, always had been, but you were attacked in your home. Between that and the news he received, both of you were in a bit of shock. Now you had to deal with him watching over you and being involved in your life.

For the first time since he could remember, he had hope for tomorrow. 

Even in the dark, and though he couldn't see your face, he knew you weren't fully relaxed. Your breathing was even, but your muscles were tense. You were on edge the moment you came face-to-face with him again and the earlier argument exhausted you. The stress of everything couldn't be good for you. 

I know you're afraid, but I'll help you get through this. 

Bucky quietly slid into the bed beside you, hesitating for a moment, before he slid an arm around your waist. His hand rested on your stomach and he took pride in feeling you go lax under his touch. He closed his eyes as he nosed along your neck, breathing in your sweet scent. Memories of that night flooded him like a tidal wave: how pliant you were under his touch, how beautiful you looked when you let go for him, how you accepted every part of him. 

You didn't try to fix him because you didn't think he was broken. 

He wishes he could hold you like this every night, just like he imagined since you first fell asleep in his arms. It was difficult to not get aroused with you curled up against him, but he knew you'd sooner stab him if he tried anything. He would tread carefully for the time being.

How did I think I could ever walk away from you?

After what HYDRA made him do for all those years, he wasn't sure if he could be a warm and gentle person again or if he deserved a chance at happiness. He had no choice in the matter for what he did, but it didn't wash away the blood from his hands. It didn't take away the guilt or memories. You reminded him that he was still Bucky and someone worth caring for. Maybe even love.

He repaid your kindness by treating you as if you meant nothing to him. 

The hurt in your eyes when he callously dismissed you haunted him ever since. Natasha told him more than once that he was an idiot for what he did, even when she tried to distract him from his feelings for you. If anything, it only fueled them more. You were it for him. 

Give me another chance and you won't regret it. I swear, I won't hurt you a second time. 

It pained him to have you so close physically, yet so far away in your heart. He broke it as a means to protect you, but he was only kidding himself. You got under his skin in the best way and he couldn't let you go. He couldn't let you run again either. 

You had every right to give up on me, but why did you run away from everyone?

As strong and capable as you were, he knew the attack was just the beginning. Someone was after you. He had to find out who wanted you and why. There was also a lot to talk about and work through. You weren't ready for what still existed between the two of you and you sure as hell didn't trust him. He couldn't blame you for that, but he was a part of your future whether you liked it or not. 

I won't let anyone get you, doll. You or our baby. 

*****

Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan

[writersdare]

He Called Her a Fairy | Luke Hemmings

Pairing: Luke Hemmings x Reader (she/her)

Summary: No matter how excited Luke was to go on tour, it was always too heartbreaking to say goodbye to Y/N. However, that parting was worth going through to meet again.

Warning: hurt/comfort, angsty

Word Count: 1 004

Requested: yes

Author’s Note: It's been a while! Thank you for continuing to read my stories, it truly motivates me to keep writing. I hope you'll enjoy this a bit moody but in a way cosy story with our golden boy ♡

Six months away from the loved ones was not a joke. Luke was always certain he’d get used to it eventually. Sure, it wasn’t easy, but over time he adapted to the new changes, even the most difficult ones. At teenage age Luke thought he’d never be able to ignore hate comments, but there he was. Of course, it still annoyed him, not as much as when he was starting a career of a musician, though. Yet, every time it was tough, almost unbearable, to leave home. No matter how excited Luke was to go on tour, it was just too heartbreaking to say goodbye to her. He hated it, truly.

The very first time, when they had to experience it, was, probably, the hardest. The musician refused to say goodbye and mumbled a short "I’ll text you at the airport". Luke was scared to think even for a slight second that it’d be their last time seeing each other. Maybe for someone it’d sound overdramatic, but the problem was that it did happen in the past. Just few months were enough for a partner to message him "we aren’t working any longer" and "it’s better to break up". Squeezing Y/N in the arms and trying to memorise her perfume, Luke barely kept a phrase "please, wait for me" to himself.

"It will pass quickly," she promised, being cheerful as much as she could, although once Luke left that door, Y/N burst into tears. The girl trusted her boyfriend, and the tears were not a reflection of doubts about him or their relationship, no. It was only an expression of bitter sadness because of the simple fact that they wouldn’t be able to see each other for quite some time.

LA looked a little bit alien. The flight was long and tedious. Usually Luke couldn’t sleep normally on planes, but the last few concerts were so exhausting that the whole fight back home he spent dozing off constantly. Even when his bandmates woke him up, saying they finally landed, the golden boy needed a minute or two to figure out where he was and what actually happened. And then it came as a wave – six months had passed. He was finally home. 

It was the middle of the night, and Luke begged Y/N not to bother with driving to the airport. Even thought it could be romantic, in reality it was more of a torture for a public person. His girl was waiting at home. She did have a second thought to make a surprise at the airport, however, Luke was right, and there was no need to take a risk. The musician was too tired to deal with paparazzi as well.

Luke didn’t exactly remember how he ended up next to the entrance, waiting for Y/N to open the door. He was sleepy the whole way there, however, realising he was going to see her after six month being apart, it awakened goosebumps all over his body. The butterflies raised in the stomach once again. Suddenly, he felt cold, terrified by a pessimistic thought of her not being there. Or her, preparing a speech how she was not ready for that type of relationship, for that kind of difficulties. But ones Y/N opened the door, she jumped on Luke, cuddling softly, and the guy, lifting her from the floor, lost it, sobbing like a child and smelling her perfume, always the same, always so special.

"Baby…" Y/N had promised herself she wouldn’t cry when she’d see him, but as the girl heard a quiet sob, she couldn’t hold hers, too.

"Please, don’t go," the musician mumbled, letting out a phrase he had been holding since the day he left for the tour. Luke kept those words to himself, being scared they’d be prophetic, but at that moment the guy knew he had nothing to worry about. She was there. She was with him…

"What are you talking about? I won’t go anywhere," Y/N rested a palm on his cheek, smiling and glancing at Luke’s blue eyes. "You look so tired… You’ll eat and then have a rest, okay? You need to sleep a lot now, in few days it’ll get bett–"

"Hush, just kiss me," Luke chuckled, not being able to believe that the girl decided to give him recommendations how to survive jet lag. Him, travelling the world since he was a teenager! But that’s why he loved Y/N so much. She was caring from the very beginning, it was so unfamiliar and almost strange to him at first. The girl was never "too much"; Y/N always knew when Luke needed her and when he needed time alone. The musician called her a fairy, meaning Y/N certainly had magical powers, knowing him that well. "A witch" was too offensive by his taste, it didn’t suit the girl. She was a fragile soul that for some reason found a safe place in him. Luke couldn’t find the right words to express how actually thankful he was to her for choosing him. Him, with all the problems and flaws. Y/N would only laugh when he’d say that she was perfect. The girl would repeat that no one was, but that what was special about both of them.

"When you love someone, even flaws become favourites. I can get annoyed when you chew loudly, but when you were gone… Every time I had breakfast alone, it was too quiet," Y/N admitted, patting his golden hair.

Luke couldn’t get enough of her, so after late dinner, they lied together on a couch, and he cuddled Y/N tight, resting a head on her shoulder. The guy already warned that he wasn’t planning to let her go any time soon, but it’s not like Y/N was complaining. She didn’t mind a little battle who of them was more affectionate. And the silly competition has just begun. 

taglist: @dgrangaa, @gracieboogirl

– gifs aren’t mine and belong to the rightful owner – saw them here @kaleidoscopeminds –

© writersdare | all rights reserved

All stories are original and written by me. Do not copy, trace and post anywhere without permission and credit. The stories are fictional, they do not correspond to reality and written just for fun ♡

Masterlist | Taglist

#luke hemmings #5sos blurb #5sos imagine #5sos imagines #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer imagine #5sos #5sos fluff #5sos fic #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings fluff #luke hemmings x reader #luke hemmings x y/n #luke 5 seconds of summer #luke 5sos #luke 5sauce #luke hemmings blurb #writersdare #writersdare Luke 5sos #5sos angst #luke hemmings angst

[goddess-of-green]

𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚋𝚢 | 𝚗. 𝚔𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚎𝚍𝚊

You think your bed is more comfortable than anything else. Komaeda thinks so too. Word count: 676 | creds to zakiko for the art!

enjoy this drabble until i talk myself into functioning again.

(wrote this on my phone early asf in the morning. i was rlly tired if you can’t tell.)

Warnings: GN!Reader

Tucking yourself into bed, you curled into the most comfortable position you could and adjusted your blankets. 

Monokuma had been going completely off the rails lately and you were nothing if not exhausted by it. Each day on the island only felt longer and longer. 

Despite your awful circumstances, you found it in yourself to be grateful you at least had a comfortable bed to sleep in at the end of it all. Soft sheets and a nice warm cottage just to yourself certainly helped you stay sane during the killing game. 

Before your thoughts could go much further, you found your consciousness slipping and your thoughts trailing off as you fell asleep. 

You weren’t sure how long had passed before you woke up again, but it felt like it had been at least a few hours. 

As you came into awareness, you realized what had woken you up in the first place, and looked up groggily at the figure looming over you. 

“-/N…Y/N…” Komaeda whispered, nudging you so gently it was a wonder you’d woken up at all. 

Despite your coming to, you nearly flinched as Komaeda came into focus, and you looked him up and down. 

His long green jacket was hanging at his elbows, hanging down long enough to cover his boxers, as it didn’t look like he was wearing pants, though his pale arms and collar bones were on full display due to this scoop neck tee. 

His hair was even more of a mess than usual, (if that was possible) and he had a pillow tucked under his arm. It really didn’t take a genius to figure out what he was there for. 

Still, your brain was cloudy from just waking up, the only thing on your mind was continuing your rest, but you couldn’t very well just ignore him and go back to sleep. Especially considering he broke into your cottage. 

“Ko…? Huh…?” You murmured, blinking up at him. 

“Y/n…” He clutched the pillow tighter, an uncharacteristic look of nervousness crossing his face as he looked into your eyes. “I’m…so sorry to ask this of you…but...um…” He trailed off, seeming to have trouble saying it. 

“You wanna sleep together?” You murmured, gazing at him with hazy eyes. You were still half-asleep.

Nodding, Komaeda looked to your face anxiously for a response. 

This wasn’t the first time Komaeda had done something like this. You really should have expected it, but at the same time, he should have expected what your answer would be. 

You scooted over as efficiently as you could with your mind still so fuzzy, stopping when there was a Komaeda-shaped space beside you in bed, and you patted it with a small smile, frankly tired of using your words. 

Komaeda swallowed hard at the display, but made no move to deny it and quickly took the opportunity to get into bed with you. 

He put his pillow beside yours and settled in with you, taking up the space you’d given him and more as he pressed himself close to you. 

His arms wrapped around your waist and he rested his head on your chest, intent on listening to your heartbeat. It was slow, because of how tired you were, but he seemed to find the steady rhythm relaxing as his eyes drifted shut. 

Half asleep, and much more comfortable with a warm boy cuddled up to you, you felt yourself start to drift off for a second time, and you stroked Komaeda's hair until you fell asleep, wanting him to doze off before you. 

Tugging gently on the ends of his soft white hair proved to be relaxing for you too however, and you quickly found yourself falling asleep, arms coming to rest lovingly around Komaeda's shoulders. 

You may have been stuck on an island of death and despair, but…you two were at home right there. Fit together like a puzzle piece. 

#sdr2 x reader #super danganronpa 2 x reader #danganronpa x reader #dr x reader #danganronpa 2 x reader #dr2 x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #nagito x reader #komaeda x reader