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peachsukii · 2 months

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₊✩‧₊◜ thinking about reader and bakugo’s intense “I’m home!” sex after he gets back from a month long mission. (follow up to this!!)

『 ♡ - k.bakugo x fem!reader 』 ꒰ tags & content ꒱ 18+ MDNI! masturbation, mentions of phone sex, toy usage (vibrator), praise, light dom/sub dynamic, pet names (baby, peach, sweets, good girl, princess - one mention of slut and whore but affectionately!), fingering, minor roleplay (bakugo in his hero gear & reader wears his mask), oral (blowjob), facial, cum eating, lots of dirty talk, nipple play, marking - biting/scratching, a sprinkle of choking, hair pulling, rough sex, overstimulation, creampie, aaand fluff! aged up characters to 22. ⋆ ˚ʚɞ — i didn’t expect this to be as long as it is, buuuut i had a lot of ideas of what they did when he came home...so there's a lot. what can i say? y'all missed each other! the smut immediately starts under the cut and does not stop until the end! 😵‍💫 ｡‧˚ʚ cross-posted to ao3 | word count; ~3.7k ɞ˚‧｡ -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist

It's been a long month without Katuski being home. You've done everything you can think of to keep yourself busy while he's been away - played games, read books, hung out with friends and worked overtime to make the days fly by. You called each other day and night, talking for as long as his assignments for the day allowed. Thankfully, they gave him his own room as an accommodation and didn't have to worry about sharing with anyone else.

Boy, did that come in handy.

You two are not shy and foreign to phone sex of all kinds, it was something you actually talked him into doing when you're apart longer than a week for work. FaceTime, voice notes, sexting; the full gambit. You had a private collection on your phone with all his voice notes that he'd sent to you over the years. You used it as "material" for when you're alone.

One folder was all for praise - "that’s my good girl," "go slow sweets, I wanna watch ya take every inch of me," "you’re so cute when you’re begging on your knees, baby," "love watching your soft lips wrap around my cock," "your moans are so fuckin’ pretty, peach," “god, y’have no fuckin’ idea how goddamn wild you drive me,” and more snippets of him coaxing you along to get you off.

The second folder? That was your sacred treasure trove. There were only three files, but they were some of the hottest things Katuski's ever graced you with. They were 10 minute audio clips of him jerking off to the thought of you, vocalizing every detail. Thank god for advanced technology because it allowed you to hear every mumbled ‘fuck’ under his breath, hushed grunts and audible shudders.

You didn’t have any other plans for the day - listening to your boyfriend’s sexy voice while you test out a new vibrator sounded like the perfect solution!

Stripping out of your clothes, you grab a t-shirt from his dresser and throw it over your naked body. It loosely drapes over the top of your thighs, barely hiding the fact you’re not wearing any panties. You grab the vibrator from your nightstand and lay in bed, phone nestled into the pillow next to your head. You decide to choose one of the three files at random. Before you even hit play, your face is flushed and heart is threatening to burst through your ribcage. It doesn’t take long for you to succumb to the gratification, getting lost in his husky moans and the hum of the vibrator.

You’re too busy to notice that the apartment’s front door has opened, along with the commotion of Katsuki dropping his bags in the doorway. He doesn’t say anything as he’s taking off his boots, assuming you could be taking a nap or had headphones on if you didn’t come skipping down the hallway. He didn't tell you he was coming home two days early and wanted to surprise you!

What a surprise it was for him to hear subtle mewls coming from your joint bedroom, immediately catching his attention. He was still in his hero gear, minus his gloves and gauntlets, with his mask settled into his hairline like a headband. As quiet as possible, he tip toes down the hall and peeks around the doorframe. He could hear faint audio playing and a buzzing noise, but couldn’t make out what it was until he got to the doorway.

When he peeked through the crack in the door, his dick throbbed violently as it tented his cargo pants. The sight of you sprawled out on the bed, viciously fucking your new vibrator in nothing but his t-shirt was hot as hell. And you were listening to...his voice notes? He was entranced by your delicious moans and how your legs twitched when the vibrator hit your swollen clit. Part of him jokingly thought you didn’t even need him right now, since you technically did have a version of him, but his selfishness took over instead.

Willpower be damned, he needed you. Now. It took everything in him not to pounce on you right then and there.

Katsuki retreats to the living room and sits on the couch, desperately fighting the urge to start playing with himself to the sound of you doing the same. Instead, he pulls out his phone and clicks on your name to call you. He could hear your phone’s audio shift from his own voice to your ringtone, a startled yelp escaping you.

“H-hey babe,” You answer, panting quietly. “What’s up?”

He almost bursts out into laughter, but keeps it together enough for his little charade.

“Everythin' alright? Ya sound outta breath,” Katsuki teases, but decides to get to the point. “Eh, fuck it. Come into the living room.”

He hangs up and hears your feet padding against the wooden floor instantaneously. Within seconds, you slide into view, overjoyed that he’s home.

“Kats!” You squeal, scrambling over to the couch and jumping into his lap. You’re peppering his lips, neck, cheeks and forehead with rapid fire kisses, giggling as he tries to still your movements to pull you into a warm hug. He nuzzles his face into your neck lovingly, returning your kisses tenfold.

Your excitement briefly makes you forget that you were just in the middle of pleasuring yourself before rushing to greet him. The realization catches up to you when you fully sit on his lap, his erection teasing your exposed slit. A heat pools in your gut at the thought of him catching you in the act - he heard you.

“Sorry for interrupting,” Katsuki says, hands gliding up your bare thighs and grabbing a handful of your ass, grinding your center against his own. The secondary contact causes a gasp to fall from your lips. You don’t respond verbally but lift yourself away from his lap, creating enough space between you two.

“What're ya-,” he’s cut off by you taking his right hand off of your ass and tucking his fingers against your soaked entrance. You take two digits and lower yourself onto them, coating his fingers in all your built up slick.

“I missed you,” you whine as he flexes inside you instinctually, petting your walls with his coarse finger pads. You start to move on your own, gripping his shoulders and riding his fingers to finish the job you started in the bedroom.

Katsuki is speechless, not even a witty remark coming to mind to tease you. His face burns hot when the sounds of your juices sloshing around his fingers fill the room, a heat creeping up the back of his neck. Since you previously wound yourself up, it doesn’t take long until you’re ready to explode. Your eyes are threatening to roll back into your head as you swirl your hips on his fingers. His entire being is pulsing with need as he begins to drills his fingers into you, knuckle deep, and drinks in all your breathy moans. The string in your belly is pulled taut - tighter than its been in the last month, snapping with an intensity that leaves your thighs quivering within seconds.

You come all over his fingers, down his hand and stain the crotch of his cargo pants.

“Hah, good thing they’re getting washed,” you joke breathlessly as you go to kiss Katsuki but stops you - he shocks you with something he’s never done before.

He retracts his fingers from your drenched cunt and swiftly smears it all over your lips before capturing them with his own, sharing your tangy release in ecstasy. He licks your bottom lip before sitting back, breaking the kiss and settling the two fingers back to your mouth. Your lips part ever so slightly at the pressure.

“Don’t ya think you taste divine?” He smirks as he watches you open your mouth invitingly, lazily sucking his fingers covered with your spend. You don't break eye contact with him the entire time, heavily panting like a dog in heat as your tongue leisurely trails the length of each finger. A thin string of saliva sticks to the corner of your mouth as you pull away from his fingers with a soft pop of your lips.

You reach for his mask in his hairline, pushing it back to fall into your grasp. Untying the small knot, you bring it to your own face and secure it around your eyes - just like he wears on patrol. Katsuki's giving you a curious look as you slide off his lap and kneel to the floor.

Oh fuck-

Putting your hands to his hips, you drag your fingers to the hem of his pants - he's scrambling to undo his belt while you yank everything to his ankles. His cock springs forward, bouncing off his clothed abs as it’s freed from the confines of his boxers. You can tell he’s aching for you to touch him, tip leaking pre-spend and blazing hot to the touch. With no hesitation, you edge his entire length into your mouth, tongue sliding delicately along the underside of his shaft and consuming every drop of him.

“F-fuck peach, should'a let you wear my mask ages ago,” Katsuki stutters, thighs trembling at the sight your lips enclosed around him. “’m not gonna…last long watchin’ ya like this.”

You start to slither your tongue around his length, subtly hollowing your cheeks and barely moving an inch. His tip hits the back of your throat as he grabs your hair, shoving you all the way to the base and meeting his soft blonde wisps with your nose. He's unable to control himself - your mouth just feels too good around his cock right now. Katsuki’s only known his own fist for the last month, you’re making him feel like a blushing virgin all over again with how fast he’s accelerating toward his orgasm. You’ve hardly touched - well, blown - him and he's ready to combust.

His grunts have morphed into higher pitched moans as he’s bucking his hips off the couch into your mouth in tandem with your own movements, ferociously chasing the building heat in his gut.

“S-shit, fuck fuck fuck!” he yells while ripping your lips off of him by your hair, endless hot ropes of cum painting your pretty face. His mask, your cheeks, lips, and chin are dripping with white, each droplet slowly making it's way to your jawline. The sight is enough to almost make him come a second time, needing to throw his head back on the couch to avoid eye contact momentarily and pull himself together.

You hum with satisfaction and rise from your knees, straddling him on the couch once more. In the heat of the moment, you grab him by the jaw and plant a messy kiss on his lips, smearing his paintjob in the process. In the lusty haze, he doesn't give a shit that you mimicked his actions. Honestly? He kinda liked his own flavor - it complimented your own, dancing together on his tongue.

“Don’t you think you taste divine?” you purr, repeating his sentiment and licking some of the smeared cum off his cheek. You untie the mask and let it drop from your face, realizing that you may have just ruined his professional hero gear. “This…is washable, right?”

Katsuki laughs. “Yeah, don’t worry ‘bout it. 's gotta be with how dirty hero work gets.”

The two of you get up from the couch and walk to the bathroom to clean up. Once he’s done soaking a wash cloth with warm water, you’re taking his place and bending over the counter to rinse the remnants of his facial from your skin.

Lucky for him, you’re still not wearing any panties. And bent over like that? Your ass and pussy are on full display, still glistening from your previous orgasm.

Katsuki crouches to the ground, kneeling behind you and bites your bare ass with a huff. The sensation makes you jump, water splashing all over the counter and collar of your shirt.

“Katsuki!” You yelp, shutting off the water and blindly reaching for a towel nearby. “You’re insatiable.”

“Like you’re complaining.”

His tongue then traces from the inside of your thigh and stops just shy of your center, a shudder of anticipation wracking your body.

“You’re playing with fire, Kat,” you warn, spinning around and lifting your leg, placing a foot on his shoulder to teasingly show off your messy core. His eyes dart up to meet yours, a salacious grin settling on across his lips.

“Then fuckin’ light me up, princess.”

Something in you snaps - an unexplainable strong hunger captivating your mind. You wanted him to absolutely obliterate you in any and every way possible.

Everything happens in a flash - remaining clothes are strewn across the floor, bodies pressed against the plush of the sheets when you fall against the bed, tangled and relishing in the bare skin contact. The sensation kindles the fire in your veins, begging for more of him - all of him.

"K-Katsuki," you whimper onto his lips, breathless between frenzied kisses. "I want - no, need - you to fuck me like you hate my guts."

Your lascivious request has Katsuki's head swimming in a lewd sea of thoughts, gritting his teeth to hold back the ravenous desire. He can’t help but fist himself in response before leering over you.

“Oh, is that how you wanna play this game, baby?” He growls into the shell of your ear, squishing you further into the mattress. "Want me to use you like a fuckin' toy, eh? Poundin' away at your tight-ass cunt 'til ya can't take it?"

You're too enraptured by the promise swirling in your head to form any logical thoughts as his hands travel to your breast between your bodies, palms blistering hot to the touch as he tweaks your nipple. "When ya can't walk tomorrow, jus' remember y'asked me for this."

The incoherent whine that escapes you is involuntary, a raw reaction to his words. You hear a pleased hum rise from Katsuki's throat as he towers over you once more. He places a few tender kisses to your neck before he fiendishly groans, "I'm gonna fuckin' wreck you."

Not a second passes before his canines are puncturing your delicate skin, threatening to draw blood with how deep he's sinking into the bite on your jugular. Katsuki releases only to keep biting anywhere he could latch on to as he roamed your body - your neck, breasts, collarbone, shoulder, nipples, hips, thighs - eager to mark every inch of you, claim you as his. It makes you squirm and your pussy ache with need, lightning bolts of pleasure coursing through you with each snap of his teeth. Usually when he bit you, he’d soothe the area with a few kisses - but now? He was a rabid fucking animal, carnality overwhelming his ability to think straight.

You're able to get a quick look at his ruddy cock when Katsuki leans back, repositioning himself while gripping your hips. You’re salivating at the sight - thick, swollen and pulsing, spend dripping down his length and coating the skin with a sheen of arousal. He’s heavily tracing circles into your hip bones, his firm clutch on your waist keeping you in place. He’s tugging your center toward his own, teasingly slipping the head of his cock between your creamy folds. You’re about to plunge down onto him when he pulls back, a wicked grimace crossing his lips. A dissatisfied squeak spills from your lips, pouting up at him with metaphorical hearts in your eyes.

“Y’want this?” Katsuki snarls, bouncing his dick against your mound, the contact causing you to inhale sharply. “Beg like the needy slut you are.”

Words are failing you as you attempt to fulfill his demand, the only sounds falling from your puffed lips a succession of jumbled moans.

“Cat got your tongue, princess?” He snorts at his own pun under his breath as he trails his palm up your body, resting under your jaw and fixating on the seductive gleam in you pupils.

“I know how to find those pretty words ‘a yours.”

Katsuki applies firm pressure to your throat under his finger tips, tilting your head upward to face him. Your hips buck up in response, begging for him to spread you open.

He clicks his tongue at your shameless plea. "C'mon baby, tell me what ya want."

His fingers flex over your throat, playfully interchanging how much pressure he's using over the pulse in your jugular. His gaze travels down your newly bitten and bruised body, pleased with how they adorn your features.

With every ounce of concentration, you blurt out everything lingering in your heat-riddled mind. "Break the fucking bed, rip my soul from my body, leave me choking on every word, ravage me until there's nothing left...please, Katsuki!"

You barely finished screaming his name before Katsuki releases the hold on your throat, roughly returning his grips to your hips and ramming his cock straight into your sweltering sex, the burning sensation rolling your eyes back into your head.

"Good fuckin' girl, baby."

He's hypnotized by the way your tits bounce as he fucks in and out of you at a feral pace, sweat glistening over both your bodies. The room's temperature heightens, the humidity only adding to the wild desire you're sharing.

Suddenly, he pulls out of you, leaving you confused and yearning. You don't have time to ask questions as he's rolling - shoving - you onto your stomach, arching your hips into place before resuming his unmerciful thrusts, growling and grunting from behind you. The new position has you crying out, intoxicated by the way his cock is hitting every hotspot along your walls and g-spot repetitively. You're unable to contain the sounds spilling from your parted lips as they harmonize with Katsuki's moans. He bends down to snatch your hair by the roots, forcing your head off the pillow as his other hand reaches around your waist, finger pressing harshly against your puffy clit. The wail that bubbles from your throat is sinful, overwhelmed as the coil in your core is wound tighter, tighter, and tighter.

"I fuckin' love when you moan like a whore, baby," Katsuki barks out between baited breath. "Ya keep screamin' like that, 'm gonna end up stuffin' your pretty pussy full 'a cum."

You flutter around his dick in response, stroking his length with every snap of his hips. "Hah, seems like that's what your beggin' for, isn't it?"

He screws his eyes shut, jaw clenched as he's inching closer to the edge. Your clenched walls coax his release to come rocketing out of nowhere, a guttural moan spilling out of him as he pumps you full of spend. The warmth is inviting - comforting, leaving you floating on cloud nine. Katsuki lets your locks drop from his grasp and removes his hand from your clit, folding over your back with exhaustion.

Imagine his shock when you push back against him, causing him to slide out of you with a schlep and fall back against the bed. You reverse your position to face him, taking hold of his shoulders to pull him into a sitting position and shove his back against the wall.

"Wha-"

You straddle his lap, springing his still-hard cock back inside of you and begin riding him mercilessly.

"One more," you whisper, voice low and demanding. "I know you can do it, my good fucking boy can give me one more."

Your nails are digging into his chest, red scratches left in their wake as you grind your soaked center against his shaft. Katsuki's stuttering, unable to find words as the overstimulation mixed with praise short circuits his brain.

"Ba-mmph-baby, wa-ahh-wait, fuck!"

Numerous beads of sweat roll from his hairline and drip down his cheeks, slack jawed from delirium. A second wave of release is rapidly rising in his abdomen, high pitched whimpers falling from his open mouth.

"Ah-almost!" you shout, fingers tracing his hardened nipples and pinching them roughly. He jolts, a final whine escaping him as the aforementioned wave crashes down, a second round of seed spurting out inside of you. Your own slick rushes to meet his spend, mixing together as it leaks from between your legs and into his lap.

"Holy fuck," Katsuki wheezes, barely able to speak. "Wh-where the fuck did you learn that?!"

Your legs are trembling uncontrollably as you lift yourself off of his dick, falling sideways onto the bed.

"I...just thought to try it," you sigh, "Never thought I'd get you to whine like that. Fuck, Kat. That was ungodly hot."

His face is burning red and heat traveling down his neck, somewhat embarrassed at his reaction of losing himself in the moment.

"Oh no, you don't get to be embarrassed! With half the shit you do to me?!" you tease, kicking his thigh jokingly with your foot. He grumbles, scrunching his brows together and crossing his arms.

"Alright, alright, I'll stop teasing you."

"Good, ya better. Now move your ass over and make room for me."

Katsuki flops next to you, too exhausted to get up from the bed. He wraps an arm around your waist and one under your head, cradling you close as your cheek meets his chest. You can hear his heartbeat thumping away as you close your eyes to the rhythm. He kisses your forehead before laying his head back against the mountain of pillows.

"Guess I should go away on missions more often if that's what I get 'ta come home to, shit. Feels like I just ran a fuckin' marathon."

You can't help but giggle, fighting off the itch to drift into slumber a little longer.

"I'm sneaking into your hotel room next time. No way am I waiting that long again!"

The two of you snuggle close, despite the ungodly amount of sweat coating your bodies and mugginess in the air, too enamored with one another to care.

"I love you so much, sweets. Don't forget that." Katsuki's voice is quiet, the words tightening in his throat as he speaks them aloud.

"I love you too, Katsuki. Forever and always."

He's satisfied with your answer as he closes his eyes, letting the wave of fatigue settle in his bones and lull him to sleep.

tagging @pastelbakugou as a thank you for the idea of a follow up 👀✨ no pressure tags!: @maddietries @slayfics @bkgrl @bub-ss hoping this was explosive enough! 🧡💥

#bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x you #katsuki bakugou x reader #my hero academia smut #bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugo #☆.rei writes

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cursedcola · 7 months

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Prompt: "Will You Marry Me?" - Proposal Headcannons Characters: Everyone :) Part(s): Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde(here!), Diasomnia(Pt.1)(Pt.2) Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Warning(s): The relationship is kinda toxic because it's Idia and I have to be realistic - but it gets better as you read. Just know that there are themes of miscommunication, self-sabotage, self-neglect, and insecurity in both Idia and the MC. I gave him some character growth at least and some maturation to the character. Note: All Ignihyde has is Idia so I gave his piece some extra love(super long. Like, this isn't even considered a headcannon set anymore. I really went overboard, I'm so sorry). Not proofread for grammar since I'm a bit lazy right now. Also, I haven't finished his chapter in game because I'm too weak (seriously wtf is up with these fights). I know the plot mostly but forgive me if there's an inaccuracy in a reference

Idia had it made during his youth - and deep down he knows it despite all his complaining. He knows that he won the introvert lottery. For three years he was able to live in a reclusive dorm room with no expectations beyond showing up to class (via a tablet of all things) and doing his work. Sure, he had to return home at some point and deal with that hot mess...but it was a displaced problem. One to be dealt with whenever. As a full-time 'student' he had junk food readily available, his brother down the hall, all the games and tech he needed, and somehow managed to land himself a loving partner despite his quirks.

The Ramshackle prefect - someone he initially wanted nothing to do with. Chaos seemed to follow their every move and Idia wanted no part of it. He never expected to come within a twenty-foot radius of them without force.

For the record, force indeed was used. Unfortunately they had a nasty habit of being nosy. Very 'main character complex' of them, if you ask him.

Yet it worked in his favor. Their stubbornness and intrusive ways wormed a place in his stone-cold heart. It fueled his ego much to everyone's chagrin. Out of everyone - princes, busy bodies, future doctors and the literal fish mafia - you picked him. The noob cursed to lose all his 50/50s and rot in bluelight. Idia seriously questions your tastes, but hey! He beat the normies and that's all he cares about.

Well, at least that's how he phrases it. Underneath that god-tier ego is an inferiority complex that he tries to keep down for your benefit. Something about your mood dipping by 20% when he talks trash? He'd need Ortho to run another test on that. Just to be safe.

Unfortunately, he still can't reign it in all the way. Victories can be temporary and who's he to say that your relationship isn't a one-shot story? Nothing worthwhile is ever that simple. Good games always get sequels...so the question lingers, will he still be a main character in yours?

When Idia graduates, he fully expects for you to walk out of his life. He returns to S.T.Y.X and leaves NRC to fulfill his role back home. You have no reason to care about him when he's no longer nearby. Life isn't like an isekai manga. You won't wait for him - no, you'll get a taste for how life is without him and indulge. Slowly you'll stop texting him, calling him, playing games with him - well, he'll do it first! He refuses to be the second male lead that gets dumped when you finally find your prince. That's for chumps.

He'd rather you just up and leave this world! At least then he wouldn't be in this pitiful situation...but he's seen that crow's shitty work ethic. You're stuck.

Idia's scared to say the least. One could say that his self sabotage was in action before your relationship even began. Old habits die hard, and no one could stop his spiral. Not even Ortho. Idia left his little brother behind as well. The boy sent him off with a smile, promising to take good care of you in his big brother's stead. After all, you both were in the same year.

It's not surprising that he reverts to his old ways. A hard battle is even more difficult to win when you don't have the motivation to fight it in the first place. Idia loses his drive...and in turn his already negative outlook grows worse.

Needless to say, Idia ... neglects you.

Your relationship has always been more of an 80:20 than a 50:50 - with him taking more than he ever gave. You always set aside time and made sure he was comfortable. You respected his anxieties and dealt with his temper on more than one occasion. His jealousy. You indulged his hobbies, always tried to include him in on activities with your friends (even though he rarely ever accepted), wore your heart on your sleeve and always took the lead. You were always too good to be true.

Two years. Two years with him at S.T.Y.X and you at NRC. Not a day passed where you did not text him or call. Not a week passed where you did not video-chat or play a game with him. You made time. You checked in. Told him stories about your life an friends. Ortho often would send him recordings and clips as well. During vacations you'd make plans to see him and always invited him to come to campus for events. Even though he never accepted, you still always offered. Throughout it all he kept you at a distance, yet unable to fully let you go at the same time. He needed you to do it. He needed his inner thoughts to shut up and to have someone else to blame.

You. You. You. When would you stop? Why weren't you tired of him yet? On a good day he can be frustrating, so how were you not mad when he was physically trying to make you hate him? Were you waiting until graduation to drop the bomb on him that you'd leave for good? On another's arm or back to your world?

Imagine his surprise when neither happened. On the dawn after Ortho's graduation ceremony, Idia came out of his cave to greet him at the S.T.Y.X entrance. He would no longer be as lonely, and perhaps without Ortho around, you'd finally put distance between yourself and the Shroud family. All would be as it should.

He did not expect to see you at the gate as well. Ortho flew up to him with a bright grin and twirl in the air - babbling on and on about how he arranged for you to come work as a research assistant in the lab. After all, you had an extensive knowledge of blot as well as field experience. It was a win-win situation for the company and your relationship! You could now be a happy family! Isn't that just amazing?

"It was extremally difficult to keep this a surprise!...Brother?" Ortho halts mid-rant, his receptors going haywire, "Brother, your heartrate has increased and your temperature is dropping below stable levels. You must regulate your breathing pattern!"

White noise rang like television static in Idia's eardrum. He watched you thank one of the guards while handing off your suitcase. His pulse increased and mind went under water. How long had it been since you were together longterm? You looked different. More mature. Meanwhile he was still the same - physically and emotionally. Still the pasty shut-in with dark eyebags and energy drinks running through his veins instead of blood. He wasn't used to seeing you in person. How should he react? Should he hug you? Do you want him to? That's weird. He hasn't held you in a while - yeah, it would be creepy. Does he even deserve to? What made you want to work here anyways?! You could have gone anywhere. ANYWHERE. - Shit. You're looking this way. What should he do?! aHH! You're walking over!

He does what he knows best. Shuts down. You receive a disgraceful greeting. No affection. Not even a smile.

Idia's brow furrows at your approach and he buries his hands deep into the pockets of his lab-coat. When you lean in to kiss his cheek, he catches you by the forearms and holds you in place. "Since when were you going to work here? You do remember what S.T.Y.X is in charge of, right? Once you're in, there's no going back. Are you a masochist or something?" Ah. There goes the heartfelt reunion. Being home did bring out a more harsh and cut-throat side of him after all.

Despite his poor treatment, you don't react upset. Now the relationship has now become something of a 90 : 10. He knows you have no reason to come here other than for Ortho and himself. You really are an Otome protagonist, jeez. Willing to do all that for him? Giving up your future and friends just to be at his side...dammit. Don't give him hopes! Don't undo all the work he's put in to survive without you! Stop welcoming misfortune for his sake! You're stupid. Stupidstupidstupid .... man he loves that stupidity. Gods he missed it.

Shit. Not even an hour in and he's reverting.

You don't realize it but you're heading straight for a bad ending. He does though. He's read the guides and played more visual novels than he can count. As a pro, he needs to steer you off this villainy ending and towards the true route.

After all ... what was that one saying? Heroes will sacrifice you for the world, while Villans will sacrifice the world for you? He heard it from some normie bookworm...but it seems fitting right now.

Idia's no hero. He'll destroy his world if it means you get to be happy. Not that he had much of one to begin with. You...gave him a life beyond fiction while all he's offered is a curse. Literally and figuratively. Its time he returned what he so greedily stole. He'll make you move on through force.

The months are slow and difficult. Despite being nearby, Idia only ever seeks you out for work-related reasons. Even then he is very cold and dismissive . He also does not turn you away when you take the initiative. Just like old times, you linger around his room and prod him for attention. He wants you to leave, but also doesn't want to be cruel. So, he maintains this impassive position and lets you do whatever you please. Yet the situation is scarily similar to how you both were at NRC. Except instead of using his past as an excuse, he now uses your work dynamic to enable his noncommittal ways.

There really is only so much one person can take. After Idia left NRC, you pinned his switch in behavior on the lifestyle change and distance separating you both. You knew Idia would be someone you had to work hard for when you started to date, and so the situation was one you viewed as an obstacle to overcome. The solution was simple - you would go to S.T.Y.X and prove to him that you were willing to make it work. Without the physical distance, you hoped that he would let you in again. That you wouldn't have to hear reassurances from his brother anymore, and instead hear his feelings from his own mouth instead. Then you both could work out the details together in time. Seeing him reject you at first was discouraging, but you did not let it rest there. Perhaps he needed time and to get used to your presence in his home. After all, these were new waters. You would be patient. You would prove yourself capable.

Life becomes a time capsule. As the days went by, a bitter feeling grew in your stomach. Why wouldn't he laugh? Why wouldn't he look in your eyes anymore? Why is he retreating even further? What were you doing wrong? How could you fix it? Is it you? Your performance in the lab is outstanding according to your supervisors, and your work friends seem to find you agreeable enough. Can't he see that you've adjusted well and are happy here? There's nothing to worry about. How else can you prove yourself?

These thoughts plague your mind to an extend that Ortho felt the need to preform psychiatric evaluation. You dismissed his concerns with a long list of things about your new home that make you happy - including him. It pacifies his panic and somehow mitigates your own as well.

Until one fateful day, when you decided to take your lunch early and overheard a conversation between two senior S.T.Y.X employees

"Isn't the boss' partner kind of pitiful?" One technician spoke in a hush whisper, taking a bite from her salad, "He doesn't give them the time of day. I can't believe they've stuck around this long. Screw the job, I would have been out after the first week," "Shhh! Quit gossiping, it's bad. Especially about the one who pays our bills," The other scolds. "I know....but isn't it just sad. They're clearly being taken advantage of. I can't help but feel sorry" "It's not just you...to tell the truth, I had no clue Director Idia had a partner up until recently. If anything, I thought he disliked Assistant MC and kept them around for Director Ortho's sake. Imagine my shock..." They both snicker at the notion. "Yeah. I give them a few more months...maybe a year. Despite being smart in the lab, they clearly can't read the room:

It was the last straw. Like ice water being dunked over your head after a hot shower. The lunch pale in your grasp suddenly felt like it weighed ten times heavier, and a cold sweat dripped down your back. They were right. He didn't want you here. It was time to move on or else you'll just be living out an endless loop. Nothing has changed since your youth aside from the location. No matter how long you wait, no matter how much effort and time you offer ... the relationship is doomed to fail. You gave him everything...and it was time to stop waiting. To stop expecting and hoping. Time to accept reality.

Your lunch goes discarded in a nearby bin and your shift abandoned. You would not work another second for S.T.Y.X despite the facility not being the source of your anguish. Your shoes clack loudly against the tile flooring as you speed-walk to Idia's office, where he was lazily reviewing data on a recent experiment. His phone set off to the side with some automated gatcha daily playing.

You use your 'special' pass (curtesy of ortho) to get in. The metal door swings out as you march inside and turn off his screen without asking.

"H-h'-hey! What are you-" He shrieks and turns in his chair. "We need to talk" "Can't it wait until later? I'm busy working, if you can't tell" "No" Your tone is demanding. Definite. You all but yank the badge from around your neck and drop it in his lap. In that motion, he knew. Your eyes scrunch tight and teeth grind together. He was prepared for this. For you to lash out and yell at him for your suffering. Make him the bad guy in your story and finally beat the game for good. Not for you to deflate. Not for the glassy, disappointed stain on your eyes. Or the shallow breaths as you calm yourself - not letting your emotions frighten him like a spooked cat. "I'm quitting," "S.T.Y.X? You know you can't just quit. There's a process," He refutes, lazily pushing his chair back with an anxious fidget. "Not just S.T.Y.X...I'm quitting us. I can't do this anymore," "Oh. Alright. Let me get the paperwork," "Alright?" You whisper, gaping at him "...just alright? That's all you have to say to me? Not even 'why' ?" He pauses typing on a holographic keyboard, cocking an eyebrow at the question. "What? You want me to beg you to stay or something like that? We're not in an anime," His words die out at the end, and had it not been for your disbelief you would have caught the note of sadness in them, "you want to go? Then go. I warned you about this place" "No...you warned me about the facility. It's not the facility I have a problem with. I actually like it here" "So it's me then, huh? I warned you about that too," He grumbles and continues to type, "I'm not whatever it is that you saw in me. It's your fault for sticking it out this long. I knew this was how it would end from the start" A silence follows aside from the occasional noise from his computer. That's it. The nail in the coffin. You finally realized the truth. He was no good for you. He couldn't be 'fixed'. With an approving chime, he finally has all the departure paperwork pulled up for you to sign. "Alright. Sign these and I'll get you an escort," He holds out a tablet in pen without looking from his computer. You don't take it. "Hello? I said - " he turns to face you, irritated "....here" Silent tears stream down your cheeks and pool at the tip of your chin, dripping to the tile below. Wide eyes lock in his general direction. Your hands tremble slightly at your sides, as if your mind was thousands of miles away. His heart breaks. "You never even gave us a chance, did you?" He says nothing. "It wasn't about 'making it work' for you. It was always a matter of 'how long'. You've been waiting for me to leave you, all this time?" It wasn't a question. "All this time, I've been trying to prove myself. I've been thinking that I did something wrong...that I needed to be better" the word stings your tongue and seems to strike him, " but I was never even close to enough" we were never enough

With languid movements, you take the pen from him and sign the papers. You would not hide your sadness. Your grief. Your pain for a relationship that was never actually one. For a battle that only had one party fighting.

He lets you go, the metal door swinging shut and rattling him to his core. Idia's hands shake as he tries to return to his work. They tremble over the holographic keyboard, making his blue nails look like moving neon streaks in the air.

He had always thought you ere just being kind. That your self-sacrificing nature was natural, and that someone else was more deserving of it. He failed to consider the possibility that all the things you did...you did for him alone. You did out of the same anxieties and fears he felt.

In a way, you both were at fault. He led himself down a self-fulfilling prophecy - letting his anxieties and what-ifs become reality. And you? You thought everything could be fixed with time. With sacrifice. That eventually he would grow. You both were plants, one overwatered and the other left parched in the sun.

He did get one thing right. This was defiantly a bad end. Just not in the way he originally believed...

Somehow, life becomes worse than before you arrived at S.T.Y.X. At least when you were around, people did see him more out of his office or room. Seeing him revert to his previous ways without so much as an inkling of sadness for losing you....yeah, it did not look good. Worse than people not even knowing you were his partner at first. After your departure, rumors began to spread that you had finally snapped. The pity felt for you morphed into judgement towards his character. Others saw him as a heartless recluse, and the pity was extended to Ortho of all things. If Idia could toss out a loyal partner of years, what about the little robot? Perhaps despite all the gossip, the others at S.T.Y.X did not fully believe that he would let you leave so easily. That he wasn't as detached as the Shroud name dictates.

Little do they know that he's become a shadow of his former self. He can't even act self-depreciative. Pleasantries don't hit like they used to. Having you at a distance...well, was still considered as being with you. Now that you're never coming back, it's harder. Everything reminds him of you. Your favorite snacks are still stocked in the cafeteria, and there are blankets in his room that still have your scent. Occasionally a file will pop up with your work in it while he's doing reviews...and then there's Ortho. When you left, he was crushed. He pestered Idia for days - the security cameras giving him full knowledge of what happened. Yet no matter what the robot said about the situation, Idia didn't want to hear it. Eventually he took away Ortho's access data to his personal spaces.

That didn't stop the bot from talking through the door and spamming his brother's inboxes. Despite cutting off contact with his big brother, you still spoke to Ortho regularly. He refused to let his big brother lose all connection to you, and updated him on your well-being. Regardless of what Idia said, hearing about you made a difference. At first it increases his anxiety and drops his mood...but every time, like a scheduled delay, his serotonin levels will spike. Be it from a clip of your voice, a picture, or even just the mention of your name.

"Brother! I just finished a call with MC. Today they decided to adopt a cat! Would you like to see a picture?" His computer beeps with an incoming missive. Idia clicks it, and the screen displays a photo of you with a small white kitten in your arms. "They've decided to name it Grimm Jr. From what I heard, the predecessor was not pleased to be 'replaced,' as he calls it" Ortho laughs from the other side of the door, but Idia is too focused on the image on his screen. The curve in your smile and the way you gently cradle the kitten. You seem...happy. Much better than how he is doing. He fails to hear the door beep, granting access, neither the bot fly up next to him to look at the picture. "Big brother, why don't you apologize to MC? They would listen," Idia startles, clutching his chest as his hair flairs cherry red for a brief moment. He swivels in his chair and closes the image quickly. "I'm not apologizing for nothing. It's not like I miss them or anything. My life's great without having a normie relationship to manage" "Your body language suggests that you are lying" Ortho states, his eyes squinting cheekily. Idia hunches over, glaring at his keyboard and fiddling with his sleeves, "It's not like they'd want to see me anyways. I blew it. Only an idiot would forgive what I did," "That's not true! MC loves you!" Idia glares at him from the corner of his eye, "Yeah? They look pretty happy without me. They were miserable here" "Because you purposefully made them miserable! You are very smart brother, but even I understand emotions better than you and I am an artificial lifeform!" "Then what should I do, Ortho? Go beg them to take me back like some cringe sitcom?!" "Yes!" Idia blanches at the thought, but doesn't entirely dismiss it. Ortho glares holes into his head, causing Idia to shrink into his chair. "You are always afraid, brother. You lost them to your fears once...do you want to regret that? Are you really satisfied with pictures and stories? Why deny yourself wonderful things! We are not trapped anymore!"

Ortho leaves him with one piece of information - an apartment address. He sends it to all of Idia's emails and even somehow makes it the background of his tablet. He can't change it or take it off.

He stares at it long and hard. Searches the place up and even uses virtual reality to scope out the building. While perhaps a bit creepy...he hacks the security cameras and watches feed of you coming and going over the past moths. Some days you look perfectly well, and others you look worse for wear. If he went...would you even want to see him? Would you let him in? Kick him out? Is he willing to even try? What if you already moved on...no, Ortho wouldn't set him up for that if he knew you were happy with someone else.

Idia leaves S.T.Y.X for the first time in months. His request for leave shocks other employees. Yet he's gone the moment it's approved, afraid that he'll lose his edge if he thinks too long on it.

He finds himself at the door of a middle-class apartment in the Kingdom of Roses. Second floor, third door to the left, just like he memorized. He knows its yours from the ribbons tied on the doorknob, themed after one of your favorite animes. One he introduced to you...

In his hands is a small box of candies - a peace offering, just in case you want to kill him on sight.

His boney knuckles wrap around the doorknocker and thwack it three times. Sweat pools in his palms and he jolts away. The seconds like hours as his painted nails dig crescents into his palms. The door opens. "Hi, how can I -" You pause mid-sentence, your mouth going dry. Grimm Jr. snuggled in one of your arms while the other holds the door open, "I-idia?" "T-that's my name," He grimaces, looking anywhere but at you. "What are you doing here?" His tongue feels heavy and the tips of his hair fade to a pale orange. He studders and fumbles with the box of candies, holding them out to you with a grimace. "I wanted to see you...urk. I hope that's not weird! Can ... I come in?" You eye the box in thought, before reaching out to take it and opening the door further. It was a start.

You hear him out - through the stuttering and the self-depreciative comments that he hastily retracts. This isn't just about him. It's about you and everything else in-between. Shockingly enough, you agree to give him a second chance. It wasn't entirely his fault after all ... and you did still love him. Although now there are ground rules. You would not be returning to S.T.Y.X. You've finally created a stable home for yourself and have a life in this new city. You have a career, friends, and a life that doesn't include him. You need the individuality. You would no longer try to morph yourself for him or be placid. If he wanted to spend time with you, he would have to leave S.T.Y.X and come stay at your apartment. You would no longer be the one always reaching out, he would have to start showing initiative and making time for you. You would see how things progress from that point. He was not a child, and you would not beg for basic needs to be met anymore. Words would not be enough, you need actions. It was time for 50 : 50.

Weirdly enough, he agrees to all your rules without a single complaint. Not a normie comment or slang filled statement leaves his lips. He's still that nerdy dork you fell in love with at heart, but these 'normie' things? Well, Idia's accepted that he wants those things. As much as it is difficult for him to admit, they only grossed him out so much before because he always believed they were unattainable

He's true to his word. He calls you every day, first thing when he wakes up (in the late afternoon. He still is a hermit at heart). At first it made him anxious, and he'd hover over the contact for fifteen minutes before dialing. Yet it soon became easy, with his heart only beating fast from happiness. He takes the weekends off and comes to spend them at your apartments. Sometimes he brings Ortho and it becomes a sleepover with games - and at some point you start inviting your other heartslabyul friends from back in the day too. Eventually you do come around the compound again. It's awkward to say the least, considering how you left. Yet at the same time, it's a breath of fresh air. The others are shocked to see him out of his office, and he eats IN THE CAFETERIA. Woah. He calls you by your name and not 'assistant' when in public. Homie scares some people. That's what he does. He gives you a special watch for your anniversary. It's paired with on he has and solar powered, so you can contact him at any time. As a natural born worry-wart, he can't help but worry for your safety. Since watching the appartment CCTV is 'creepy,' he just asks that you wear the watch if you're going out anywhere. It won't die and with the click of a button he'll be alerted. In exchange, you can use it to contact him whenever you want. He'll always get back instantly since it might be an emergency. The watch is also directly linked to Ortho's system, so you can contact him as well. Who needs Cortana when you have Ortho?

For the first time, Idia feels secure in a relationship. He can't count Ortho since the boy is technically his creation. Ortho would always be there...and now? Idia's confident you will too.

Does that mean you should get married? Isn't that the next step in all this?

Well....shit (pleasant connotation)

He never would have tinkered with this idea before considering his 'family'. Who the hell in their right mind would marry a Shroud? A fool. Are you a fool? Maybe.

It's late evening on a Sunday night when you're both walking home together after hitting up a local diner for hearty eats. Wow. Look at him. On a date. So weird...pshh.

Idia walks at your side, forcing his pace to match yours. Not everyone is graced with his long stickman legs. His hands are buried deep in his hoodie and his posture is slightly slouched. Classic scary dog privilege for a nighttime walk - well, if his hair didn't scream valentine's day pink to the world. Although no one else has flaming hair other than the Shroud family, so he doubts anyone would interrupt.

You decide to take the long path home and through a nearby park. The night was still young for nightowls such as yourselves, and fresh air was always crisp at this hour.

Along that path you decide to stop at a cement bench by some vending machines and chill out for a bit. Despite having just ate, Idia gets you each a can of coffee.

He'd be leaving to go back to S.T.Y.X tomorrow. Like he does every Sunday. His gaze drifts to the watch on your wrist and thinks about adding some new features - maybe video chat? So he can see you throughout the day. He wonders what you'll be up to while he's stuck in the lab. Maybe you'll go shopping, or play a new game. Maybe you'll try out a new recipe or take Grimm Jr. out to play. He wishes he could see you during the week.

Ah. You're talking. He should probably tune in or you'll get mad at him. Why's it so hard to focus? He hasn't felt this uneasy in a while...

Why is he having these kinds of thoughts? It's weird.

"You okay? You seem a little spaced," You pull him from his thoughts, a concerned crease wrinkling your temple. "Eh. It's nothing. Just not looking forward to the week," he chuckles weakly. "I know that feeling. It's always a bummer when you dip. Not to sound clingy or anything" His golden hues spark for a moment, a pale pink dusting his cheeks as he whips his head to look at you.

"W-wait - really? I was just thinking the same thing...." "You were?" "Yeah. It's...kind of weird without you. Everything's emptier. Wow. That was pretty cringe. Sorry." He grimaces, internally screaming and knowing that this was going to replay when he tried to sleep later. You tilt your head at him, a slight frown on the cusp of your lip. Something tickles at his fingers and he looks down to see you lace your hand with his. "I miss you too," your words are soft. Genuine. He feels his neck grow hot, the pink glow radiating off him betraying him. Idia looks between your interlaced fingers and the drink in his hand. There...wouldn't ever be a 'right' time for this. Would there? You've waited long enough. He pulls his hand away and pops the soda tab off with deft hands.

"Hey..." he twiddles with the soda tab in his hands, "on a scale of 1-10, how are my odds of getting a yes?" "A 'yes' to what?" "To this, " he sighs through his nose, holding the tab out towards you with a shaking hand, "will you marry me?"

{A soda tab from canned coffee. Not the most charming offering, and it barely fits around your pinky finger. Yet, Idia's always been impulsive at his core. Had he not acted in the moment, he likely would have ran countless possibilities over and over in his mind. While not your forever ring, the tab will remain a sentimental piece}

{Idia is not a man with a keen eye fore jewelry - but he knows quality. Combine his eye for perfection with his craftsmanship and behold - a ring made from purified blot. The center gem is a piece of magestone in it's most refined state. The band is titanium and there are small sapphires along the molding. Since he would be wearing a matching band, Idia decided to keep the design simple. He prefers functionality over all. Yet he does want you to feel proud of his handiwork, so he includes vintage molding on your band only. He wears a smooth black band on his ring finger, and never removes it}

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst scenarios #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #twst idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud #twst idia #IM DEAD #THIS TOOK FOUR HOURS #I LEGIT WAS NOT PLANNING TO WRITE ALL THIS #MY HANDS

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neteyamsilly · 1 year

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i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 1

summary ;; As Jake Sully's oldest daughter, you never see eye to eye with him, always challenging him and pushing his buttons to the limit. What happens when things go too far one day? [PART 2] pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; welcome to the labor of my daddy issues and my very own therapy. this fic is inspired by this one by @layonatanvi and I only wanted to borrow the running away from home to get an ikran idea/prompt! Please excuse my mistakes if you see any.

There’s a widespread belief among sky people that every first-born daughter is a direct copy of her father.

You listened in on your own father complaining to your mother about this privately one time; according to him, this was why you guys kept banging hammerheads like 'angtsìks.

Lo’ak was his troublemaker, yes, but you were the rebel pain in his ass, wouldn’t stop questioning one tiny simple step he made, never took anything seriously when he needed you to be on top of things hundred percent of the time... Even your younger brother knew boundaries after he was given the stink eye, but you hadn’t stopped testing him every single goddamn day after the sky people had come back.

His youngest son and oldest daughter were nearly identical in the speed they got him seeing red, but the similarities ended there. Lo’ak would go behind him to cause trouble, and you would do it right to his face, that fearlessness and defiance made you more dangerous than your brother in your father’s opinion.

His blood pressure skyrocketing was reserved for Lo’ak and the shenanigans he knew right away the boy was getting into, and you got his explosive anger the moment you would open your mouth to defy him — he couldn’t talk to you, a normal conversation even about your mother’s cooking wasn’t possible without you being passive-aggressive and things snowballing from there.

(“This is delicious Neytiri, thank you for the food. Sturmbeest?”

“Sturmbeest meat ran out like two weeks ago, father. You ask this everyday and mom answers the same everyday.”

Cue him reprimanding you for talking to him like that, you saying maybe he should greenlight a hunt soon to calm his nerves and promptly being sent to your room. It was Neteyam who’d saved some food for you that night.)

If only you would stop talking back to him and listen for once, he’d said, pacing in the tent with hands on hips like an agitated viperwolf as mother watched on, most likely tired from going through this loop for yet another day. You are the older sister to Lo’ak, Kiri and Tuk, why can’t you be a role model for them like Neteyam is?

(Mom had given him the flattest, “She is at the age for such behavior, Ma’Jake, we’ve talked about this. Let her be.”)

In your defense, he didn’t make sense sometimes, what harm was there in wanting him to explain the thought process behind his decisions?

Apparently you simply were prohibited from doing that to the Olo’eyktan.

But he was father, he was your family. Why did that have to be disrespect?

He wasn’t like this before.

A small part of you was aware this was you lashing out because you missed your father — the lighthearted rock in your life, the big shadow protecting you from the heat of the world, who knew how to smile and show his love before all of this. Now he was just the leader of the clan, the weight of the revered Toruk Makto on his shoulders made him a total stranger you didn’t recognize.

He barely ever called you sweetheart anymore, punishing you for being a brat, most likely. You tried to act like it didn’t hurt.

But it did. You missed him dearly when he was right in front of you. The rest of the family did, too, they just didn’t say it out loud the way you expressed through what you called standing up to him — in reality, it was a statement about the man he had become, father couldn’t read between the lines to understand.

Mom did.

She would always explain he did it out of love and worry, and his every move had a reason behind it after the scoldings ended. It was as if she saw right through the prickly exterior of her eldest daughter.

Her love wasn’t held back like his was, not shared like military MREs at decided moments in a day in between attacks, raids, meetings and duties. Hers were long touches, hugs, kisses on your temple, shared time and hunts together, her letting you ride on her ikran with her, the warmth of a meal and soft smiles; whilst his was randomly asking how you were after training and where you’ve been if he caught onto your absence sometimes. He didn’t have time for you or your siblings except for Tuktuk these days. That’s why you were now a mama’s girl.

Sooner or later, the breaking point was finally bound to arrive.

Yours did after a particularly heated-up fight about your rite of passage. You had had enough of father postponing it when Lo’ak, younger than you, had already gained his own ikran and gone through uniltaron. He was present in the tent while you were fussing and debating with your immovable mountain of a father only answering with single syllable responses, and his light snickers made you all the more aggressive. He got a strong jab from Kiri after a loud snort.

Kiri, you could get. She was built different from the start — got her mount earlier than anybody else, just walked up to it and asked. Besides, the girl wasn’t a dick about it like Lo’ak was.

“You aren’t ready yet,” father answered the more you asked him. You thought he'd say a different thing the hundredth time, but he didn't. “Your brother was.”

Lo’ak puffed his chest at that, desperate for a drop of recognition as always, and you could only roll your eyes. “So you think I’m weak? I’m not strong enough?”

Father sighed at the provocation. “That’s not what I’m saying. This and being ready are two different things.”

“How are they different? If I’m on top of my training, that means I’m ready.”

“Physically ready, and mentally ready are not the same.”

“How can I not be mentally ready, I’ve already seen what happens—”

“Enough!” He stood up, towering above you and leaning in slightly. Your younger brother had stopped smiling so quickly you almost let a laugh escape you, and father got agitated when he saw that, thinking you were making fun of him. “Some don’t return from the dream hunt. Do you understand? The strongest sometimes don’t return from that. Your mind needs to be strong.”

“And mine isn’t?”

He gave a slow exhale through his nose, not actually wanting to say it for some reason. “No it isn’t.”

“Why?”

There it is. Your signature phrase. ‘Why?’

And it made your father look above, asking silently for patience from Eywa as it always did.

“Ma’ite, why don’t we take a break, hm? Come walk with me,” your mom interrupted, taking your hand and standing next to you, your four fingers got enveloped in her larger, warmer grip, strong and insistent.

“No, I wanna hear it. What do you think makes me not ready?”

You insinuating that your father was entirely going off his own wrong opinion and not knowing any better set him off. You saw the change from ticked off to borderline on edge, but instead of giving into it, he turned his back on you and went back to cleaning his gun, movements choppy and harsh. “That immaturity for a start.”

And you hissed at him—actually hissed at him when none of your siblings would ever dare to talk back to him during a lecture.

The audible gasps, the holding of breaths, and the slow turn of your father’s head looking like he was going through confusion of reality upon being hit on the head had followed. His eyes narrowed and the lines of his eyebrows got gradually lower on his face, his form seemingly expanding in mass from building anger, spine slowly straightening after fully comprehending what you just did.

“I’m way past you giving me attitude missy,” his baritone and low voice was so steady that you’d rather him yell at you like usual, but he was scarily calm, pushing you to raise your chin righteously at him to show you weren’t bothered by him none, but your ears betrayed you by cowering flat and taut against your skull. “But you’re hissing at your father now? Hm? You think this right here is gonna get you the respect you think you deserve?”

“You don’t listen,” you said, ignoring your heart trashing away from how coldly father was to you. “Disrespect,” your fingers quoting in the air resulted only in making him angrier. Neteyam to his right, silent and observant the whole argument, was furiously shaking his head that the beads in his braids were clicking loudly. “is the only way you ever pay attention to anything anymore. See? Look how sharp you are right now. Mission accomplished, I guess.”

“Bro…” Lo’ak, frightened by the wide eyed glare father was giving you, weakly protested, but you knew he would never be able to interfere in the verbal struggle between you and father the way you did to his.

“You will go to your room,” father said between his teeth, “Do not let me see your face. I swear to Eywa—Neytiri, get her outta here.“

“Do you ever want to see our faces anymore, father?”

A beat.

Mom gasped your name in shock, grabbing your arm this time as if she wanted to drag you away.

All his fury froze away immediately. “What did you just say?”

You just stared at him.

“That’s enough,” your mother snapped at you, but you didn’t hold it against her, she was more worried about what would follow if this went on. “Come on, we’re leaving.”

“Okay.” Father slowly shook his head, the storm brewing right under his skin got you preparing for the impact, and all the kids flinched when he threw the unloaded gun back in the crate. “You know so much, don’t you? You’re smart, wise. Know better than Tsahik herself. Fine, you get your way. Go.”

You froze. “What?”

“Yeah, go. Get yourself an ikran.”

“Father—”

“Don’t father me. Go on. I’m not stopping you. Since you’re so ready and you’ll say just about anything to get what you want, who am I to get in your way, huh?”

But you didn’t want it to be like this. Iknimaya was supposed to be something exciting, prideful — a ceremony. He was saying it like you were being thrown out. Who was going to paint your face? Be proud of you?

“Why are you just standing there?” He poked your crushed ego further, confident in the fact that you wouldn't set one foot outside of the cave systems at this hour of the day. “Didn’t you want this?”

You didn’t want this.

“Dad, it’s the middle of the night,” Kiri said, appalled, not quite believing her ears.

“What does it matter?” He showed you in mock pride, up and down that you couldn’t stop the tears from stinging the corners of your eyes. “Mighty hunter here is ready.”

“Jake,” your mother warned in such a threatening tone that he stopped and shifted on his feet, almost uneasy.

“What? If she doesn’t want a father’s concern I’m not giving it to her.”

Like you weren’t standing right in front of him at all.

“Jake!”

That was the final straw. You wrenched your arm free from mom’s iron grip and screamed, “I hate you!” at the top of your lungs at him before storming off the tent.

His ears flattening was the last thing you paid attention to as everything became a blur because of tears swelling. Yeah, right. You wished you could hurt him, unfortunately he was too much of a wall for that. You bet he was scoffing at your declaration right now.

Your body thought faster than your brain did even when the emotions had you drowning under the current, deciding you were going to sneak off to the ikran rookery tonight. You knew he would send Neteyam after you — him barking, “Follow your sister,” at the boy right after you hid yourself between the rocks surrounding the tent was the confirmation of the hypothesis. He was to make sure you didn’t leave High Camp.

Everyone in your family knew your favorite hiding spot to cool off, Neteyam of course was heading there automatically, and it was the headstart you needed to get a move on.

Fine. You would complete your iknimaya yourself without anybody’s support, as if these things had any value anymore with how military he’d conditioned the clan to be. You were going to make him eat his words for humiliating you.

The muffled of father drifting off flared up your determination as you soundlessly sneaked off. "Jesus, I've spoiled her too much..."

#dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader #mom!neytiri x reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader #irma: 📝#📖: light

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laneywrld · 18 days

Text

alienated | Lewis Hamilton

one shot

word count: 8.6k

warnings: angst

you've been on that spaceship all alone.

You and Lewis had been separated for three months, which, if you think about is very long when you compare it to the amount of time you spent apart when you were together.

For four years, you and Lewis were inseparable, never spending more than a week apart. But that was then, and this is now, with three months of separation stretching out before you.

The two of you separated for one straightforward reason: You were the only person present in the relationship. Between his silence and your overthinking, it became a mess in the end.

Leaving Lewis was a heart-wrenching decision. The man you once believed would be your future husband, the man you were once engaged to, was now a distant memory.

As you reflect on the past, you realize how much you had been neglected. This realization strengthens your resolve and affirms your decision to leave, reminding you of your worth.

You weren’t sure if Lewis loved you. He didn't communicate with you, show you any affection, or pay you any attention. He didn't put time aside for you. It was hell being in a one-sided relationship.

It began to be exhausting putting in all the effort and trying to get him to see you because lately, you hadn't felt that.

It was a painful realization. Lewis, the man you loved, was slowly but surely draining you. His presence no longer brought you joy or adoration; it made you miserable. You felt like a ghost, unseen and unappreciated.

But even then, you gave him the benefit of the doubt. He'd had a hard season, was constantly stressed, and life wasn't going as planned. So, one more try: you would halt your efforts for one week while he was away in Miami.

It was a test, really, to see if he was still putting in the effort, a plan meant to expose whether he even thought about you or remotely cared. If he could go a week without you in any form, he didn't deserve you or appreciate you. That would be obvious. Or he would notice, and he'd get his act together. But a part of you lacked faith in the latter option. In the end, his actions would give you an answer to the question you've had for a while.

Would you want to stay with someone like that? Someone who's okay without you or, worse, doesn’t even notice your change?

May fifth, the day of the race, would mark your fourth anniversary, and while he would be away, you were still curious to see what he had planned or if he remembered at all.

Lewis left on Wednesday. It wasn't like your old send-offs. There were no passionate moments in bed, him leaving you something to remember him by or even your classic bye-bye brunches. He rolled his bags from your shared home while you were still deep in your slumber.

You awoke to an empty, cold house.

You spent that day alone, with Roscoe, of course. Spending the next two days cuddled up to your fur baby and taking him on exciting new adventures. You nearly slipped up and sent Lewis many pictures and videos of you and Roscoe plenty of times, only to remember your end goal and lock your phone with a sigh.

When Friday came around, and Lewis still hadn't so much as sent you a single text, you had an inkling of what you'd have to do come Sunday.

It was almost as if Roscoe could sense your turmoil; in return, he was extra clingy. He followed you everywhere, lying at your feet on the couch, snuggled into your side in bed, and even sitting patiently at your feet as you sat on the toilet. You could only sigh as you revel in the time you had with him. He was your good boy, your first child. The thought of missing him was nearly enough for you to call off your intentions, but then your therapist's words rang through your mind like a harsh reminder.

"Sometimes, you have to sacrifice your relationship with another for the sake of one; I know it might be hard to think about losing your friends and your little guy if you do find it's time to leave him, but in the end, your job is to save yourself. Never feel guilty for thinking of yourself for once. You'll always love them, yeah? He'll remember how much you loved him, and you'll miss him; he'll miss you. But how long can you survive in that relationship?"

You remember spending that entire session crying over how much you'd miss Roscoe as you contemplated the cons of leaving your relationship.

In the end, your job is to save yourself.

On Saturday, you stayed awake even when your eyes begged you to close them. You kept your phone tucked beside you, and your eyes dropped as the clock hit twelve.

Every year before that, Lewis celebrated your love immediately. For three hours, you waited for something as simple as a text or a post—something to acknowledge you. After a while, your exhaustion won, and you succumbed to your tiredness.

You tried not to get your hopes up when you awoke in the morning, your anniversary day. You felt like an idiot as you turned over your phone, and there was nothing from Lewis. Your expectations were still very much high, which is why you scrambled from the bed and rushed to the front door. Your intent to see if there were any florals delivered to your doorstep proved pointless as you swung open the door, and the only delivery had been your Amazon package.

With a disappointing sigh, you snatched it from the porch and called for Roscoe. You slipped on your Birkenstocks, leading him outside to relieve himself. You sat on the patio, bonnet on and nightgown pooling around you as you watched Roscoe run around in the yard.

It was becoming real then.

You stayed outside for an hour, playing around with Roscoe, chasing him, him chasing you, and even tossing his ball until you decided it was time to take action.

You hauled Roscoe into the home, giving him fresh water and food as you connected to the speaker and blasted your music.

Your impending decision wasn't so much impending anymore. You knew what you needed to do; sooner was better than later.

It was one in the afternoon, and if he hadn't shown any signs of acknowledgment at that time, you knew it wouldn't come.

A small portion of you wanted to cry, burst into tears, and scream because of how hurt you were. But the dominant part of you was just angry. Lewis would learn his lesson; he'd miss you, and you'd make sure he felt it.

You wanted him to miss you like you missed him. He'd find himself craving your random calls and appreciating your silly texts. He'd crave your warm embrace again, and he'd want to die without your unique smile and your loving eyes.

He'd want everything he had taken for granted because that is precisely what he had done. He made you feel alone, even when he was there. You were the shadow lurking in your home — the distant body in your shared bed.

You deserved someone who always told you he loved you, always hugged you, and never left without a kiss. You deserve a man who talks to you about everything, who cares about how your day went and how you feel. You shouldn't give everything and get nothing; you don't deserve that.

You've been nothing but superb to him. You always showed up for him when it mattered, embraced him when he was down or even when he was happy, cooked meals for him when he was home and made every dinner special for him. You asked him about his day every day, and you listened.

Lewis couldn't say the same, and he wouldn't be able to. And that was the straw on the camel's back. You refused to give that level of love to a man who wouldn't reciprocate it. You didn't care how much you loved him; that was a level of disrespect and negligence you weren't willing to tolerate.

You weren't raised to accept the bare minimum, which was precisely what he gave you.

That was your moment of realization as you packed your bags. Lewis was due back Tuesday night, so you had the remainder of Sunday and Monday to gather your belongings and make your furtive exit.

Lewis made P7; you knew this because as you separated your belongings from his, you had the race streaming on the TV mounted in your room.

On Twitter, you saw him later that night out partying, and that only angered you for approximately ten minutes before you were only feeling disappointed in the man. You'd never been good at the art of detachment until then.

Suddenly, you weren't angry or furious with Lewis anymore; you felt content with your decision as you zipped up your last suitcase and taped up the last of your boxes.

As night fell and night arrived, you lay in your shared bed for the last time, Roscoe's head on your tummy as he snored. Your hand caressed his head in gentle rubs, and you sigh.

When the clock hits twelve and your anniversary officially passes, you feel like an idiot for even having faith in the man.

First thing in the morning, the driveway was filled with moving trucks and workers. You sat patiently on the couch as you waited for Anthony to arrive. When the sun begins to set, and the loading is done, you see headlights beam through the windows.

The door opens and closes softly, and there they stand, Anthony and Nicholas with glum faces.

"Are you sure, love?" Anthony whispers as he approaches you. He looks so distressed that you can only nod back at him. He sits beside you, taking one of your hands in his.

"As long as you are sure." And you break down into a fit of tears as Lewis' father comforts you, even as you leave his son. Nicholas takes the spot beside you, his hand rubbing your shoulder to comfort you.

"You gave him time and chances," Anthony hums, his free hand rubbing circles on your back. "I love my son, and I love you just as much; we will always love you."

Nicholas hums in agreement. "Still going to be our family."

You know you must leave before you allow your love for his family to deter you. So you take one last shaky breath, standing to your feet, where Roscoe waits patiently. You squat down, tears falling from your eyes and soaking into his fur.

"I love you, buddy. So much, you're my good boy." You whisper, kissing his head over and over.

You stand again, looking at Anthony and Nicholas one last time and pulling them into separate hugs. "Thank you." You whisper out and pass the keys over and instructions on properly caring for Roscoe, even if they will only have him for less than a day.

"I'll be waiting to talk to you again," Anthony announces, and you nod.

"Don't tell him?" you request. I've left him a letter upstairs; I'd like him to find out on my terms.

They nod, and you trek through the house and out of the front doors to what used to be the home you planned on spending the rest of your life in.

As you close the door, you hear Roscoe's incessant whines and scratches against it, and you sob all over again as you continue your journey to your car.

In the end, your job is to save yourself.

You weren't selfish for choosing yourself, especially over a person whose life you're choosing to walk out of because you didn't feel as if you belonged in it anymore. You didn't belong in that house anymore, in that relationship. You didn't belong with Lewis. It was a harsh and painful reality. But change is unbearable, and from change comes growth. And that growth can also be painful. But nothing would ever compare to the pain of staying stuck somewhere you don't belong. Nothing would ever hurt you more than loving a man more than he loved you.

You always preached about "when you know, you know." You've always felt it, that gut feeling that it was time for something new. You were great at knowing when to move on and let go and acknowledging when those shifts needed to be addressed. You loved to say out with the old and in with the new. The point is that you never struggled with trusting the process of life until life told you that you weren't meant for Lewis.

This was the first time that you doubted the imminent change. This change meant that you were fleeing from your love. As you backed out of the driveway, your vision blurred by burning tears; you could only cry as you mourned the love you once had. But this was all for a greater purpose, the purpose of you finding joy in life again because you sure have felt drained of it.

Tuesday came and went, and as night fell, Lewis pulled into the driveway. Given the closed four-car garage, he did not find it suspicious that your car was missing. He grunted as he pulled his suitcase from the trunk and eased up the steps and into his foyer.

He isn't immediately greeted by Roscoe or your arms wrapping around him, and he squints when he sees how dark and cold it is inside the home.

That put him on edge.

You always liked a warm glow emitting through the home, so a dim lamp was always on to illuminate the open floor plan. At night, you liked the home to be slightly warm, like a spring breeze, yet there was an icy chill running through it.

He calls out your name as he settles his bags by the door. He even calls Roscoe, and when he hears nothing, he sets a fast pace up the stairs.

"Babe!"

No response.

When Lewis reaches the second level, he immediately heads to your guys' room. When he hits the light switch, he suddenly becomes aware of how cold and barren the room looks and feels.

You're not snuggled into the middle of the bed like he usually finds you; his pillow isn't locked in your arms and held to your chest. You're not there.

Your small trinkets are no longer scattered around the room, and he rushes to the closet; none of your belongings are there. Lewis feels his heart rate accelerate as fear creeps into his body.

He turns to face the bed again, and when he sees your nightstand, he rushes over; your ring sits in the same velvet box he proposed to you with, and a piece of paper is lying underneath it. He snatches them both up, his mind reeling, and suddenly, he feels like he could throw up.

I've made a decision that was hard for me in the beginning and became clearer as the days went on. I've gotten comfortable with the bare minimum. It's been my normal for a while. I'm choosing to evolve, grow, and learn to accept what I deserve. It'd be more challenging for me to stay with you than it would be for me to leave you. I've realized that. I couldn't handle it anymore. It was the same routine; you never noticed me or acknowledged me. I've tried to address this issue, and it's done nothing; you've done nothing but give me baseless promises. I can no longer stick around for a relationship where I've been the only one present. No matter how much I love you. And I really did love you, with everything in me. I should’ve never allowed myself to get comfortable with how you neglected and fell out of love with me. I've chosen you repeatedly, but this time, I must choose me; I have to, Lewis. Happy anniversary.

Your dad has Roscoe.

Lewis squeezes his eyes shut and clutches his chest with a firm grip. His body quivers as he slumps onto the ground, his back against the bed frame. Lewis wasn't new to panic attacks, especially with all of the stress he took on from his job. But this was his first time having to suffer through one without you.

The world seemed to close in on Lewis, a suffocating weight pressing down on his chest as his heart raced uncontrollably. His breath came in short, shallow gasps, each inhalation a struggle against the invisible hands that seemed to be squeezing the air from his lungs.

His vision blurred, the edges of his sight becoming hazy and indistinct as panic tightened its grip. Thoughts raced through his mind like a whirlwind, a cacophony of fears and anxieties swirling around him, threatening to engulf him in their dark embrace.

Desperately, he tried to ground himself, to find some semblance of stability amidst the chaos. He focused on his breath, trying to slow the frantic rhythm of his heart. But each attempt felt like grasping at smoke, his efforts slipping through his fingers like sand.

His body trembled with the intensity of his panic, a cold sweat breaking out across his skin as waves of nausea washed over him. It was as if he were trapped in a nightmare from which there was no escape, a relentless onslaught of terror that threatened to consume him whole.

And yet, somewhere deep within him, a flicker of resilience remained. Despite the overwhelming darkness that threatened to engulf him, he clung to the hope that this too shall pass, that he would emerge from the storm-battered but unbowed. But this hope came to him as visions of you.

In the midst of the chaos swirling around him, Lewis found himself grasping desperately for something, anything, to anchor him to reality. And amidst the turmoil, your memories came flooding back like a beacon of light cutting through the darkness.

He closed his eyes, allowing himself to be enveloped by the warmth of those memories. The sound of your laughter echoed in his mind, a melody that calmed the frantic rhythm of his heart. He remembered the way your smile could light up even the darkest of days, the way your touch could banish the shadows of doubt and fear.

With each breath, he summoned forth another memory, another moment shared between you two. The way you would lose yourselves in the conversation for hours on end, the way you would always know just what to say to ease his troubled mind.

It was as if you were there with him, a comforting presence in the midst of the storm. And with each memory, each recollection of your time together, the panic began to recede, like a tide slowly ebbing away from the shore.

In those moments, surrounded by the echoes of your love, Lewis found the strength to carry on and learn to breathe again. Though you were no longer by his side, your memory was a lifeline, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, love endures. And with that realization, he took a deep breath, the weight of the world lifting ever so slightly from his shoulders as he found solace in the embrace of their shared past.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the tide began to recede. His breaths grew steadier, the racing of his heart gradually slowing to a more manageable pace. The world around him began to regain its focus, the blurred edges sharpening into clarity once more.

As Lewis rereads your letter, a torrent of emotions overwhelms him, but solace is elusive. Instead, a heavyweight settles in his chest, burdened with the weight of misery and guilt.

Your words, filled with love and longing, only serve to magnify his pain. With each sentence, the guilt gnaws at him, a relentless voice whispering accusations in his ear. He replays the moments leading up to your departure, dissecting his actions and words, searching for where he went wrong.

The memories of your time together, once a source of comfort, now feel like daggers piercing his heart. Each moment of happiness is tainted by the knowledge of your absence, a constant reminder of his failure to hold onto what he cherished most.

As tears blur his vision, Lewis finds himself consumed by remorse. He wishes he could turn back time, rewrite the script, and undo the mistakes that led to this moment. But the past is immutable, and he is left to grapple with the consequences of his actions.

In the depths of his misery, Lewis feels utterly alone, adrift in a sea of regret and self-recrimination. He longs for a reprieve from the agony that threatens to consume him, but it remains elusive, just out of reach.

And yet, amidst the darkness, a flicker of hope remains. Deep down, Lewis knows that redemption is possible and that forgiveness can be found even in the darkest of times. But for now, he must navigate the storm of his emotions, clinging to the hope that one day, he will find peace once more. That you loved him enough to give him one more chance.

In the quiet moments of the day, when the hustle and bustle of life subsides, you find yourself grappling with a sense of emptiness that lingers despite your efforts to embrace change. Three months have passed since you made the difficult decision to leave Lewis behind, and while you've tried to convince yourself that it was for the best, a part of you still aches for what was lost.

Life has moved on, as it always does, and you've thrown yourself into new experiences and opportunities, hoping to fill the void left by Lewis' absence. But no matter how hard you try, there's a lingering sense of incompleteness that tugs at your heartstrings, a yearning for the familiarity and comfort of what once was.

In the midst of laughter and celebration, there are moments when you find yourself lost in thought, your mind wandering back to the memories you shared with Lewis. The sound of his laughter, the warmth of his embrace – they haunt you like ghosts, reminders of a love that once burned bright but has since faded into the recesses of memory.

You've tried to convince yourself that you've moved on, that you're better off without him, but deep down, you know the truth. Life may be different now, but it's not necessarily better. There's a void within you that no amount of change or distraction can fill, a longing for something – or someone – that you can't quite shake.

And so, as you navigate the complexities of life without Lewis by your side, you're left to confront the uncomfortable truth that sometimes, embracing change isn't enough to heal the wounds of the past. Despite your best efforts to move forward, a part of you will always be tethered to the love you left behind.

In the wake of leaving Lewis and embarking on a new chapter of life, there's a profound sense of loss that lingers within you. While you navigate the complexities of change and try to come to terms with the absence of Lewis, there's another absence that weighs heavily on your heart – the absence of your beloved canine companion, Roscoe.

Roscoe was more than just a pet; he was a faithful friend, a source of unconditional love and companionship through the highs and lows of life. His wagging behind and eager eyes greeted you each day, offering comfort and solace in moments of joy and sorrow alike.

In the quiet moments when the world slows down, and the noise fades away, you find yourself missing Roscoe more than ever. The memory of his warm presence, the feel of his fur beneath your fingertips, it all comes flooding back with a bittersweet intensity that catches you off guard.

You long to hear the sound of his paws padding across the floor, to feel the weight of his body nestled against yours as you curl up on the couch together. The emptiness left by his absence is palpable, a silent reminder of the void that he once filled in your life.

And yet, despite the pain of separation, there's a deep sense of gratitude for the time you shared with Roscoe. The memories you created together are a testament to the bond you shared, a bond that transcends time and distance.

As you navigate the complexities of life without Lewis by your side, you find yourself missing your tiny makeshift family, his family included.

Losing Lewis also meant losing the connection you had with his family, a connection that had become a source of warmth and acceptance in your life, especially given the complexities of your own family dynamics.

Growing up, your relationship with your family had always been strained, marked by misunderstandings and distance. But with Lewis' family, you found a sense of belonging that had eluded you for so long. Their laughter filled the air with joy, a stark contrast to the somber silence that often hung over your own family gatherings.

They embraced you as one of their own, welcoming you into their home and their hearts. Losing them in the separation felt like losing a piece of yourself, a painful reminder of the fragility of the connections we forge in life.

In the quiet moments when the ache of separation threatened to overwhelm you, you found yourself yearning for the familiar comforts of their presence. Their voices, their hugs – they were precious memories that you held onto tightly, like fragile treasures in the depths of your soul.

As you navigated the aftermath of the separation, you couldn't help but mourn the loss of not only Lewis but also his family. Their absence left a void in your heart, a sense of loss that weighed heavily on your spirit.

Leaving Lewis meant that you lost everything.

As you reflect on your decision to leave Lewis, the memories of his distance weigh heavily on your heart. It felt like you were carrying the weight of the relationship alone, like a lone traveler traversing a vast expanse of loneliness.

The moments of connection that once filled your days together had become increasingly rare, replaced by silence and a growing sense of isolation. It seemed as though you were the only one putting in the effort to keep the relationship alive while Lewis drifted further and further away, lost in his own thoughts and concerns.

You longed for the closeness and intimacy that had once defined your relationship, but it felt like an impossible dream, a mirage shimmering on the horizon, always just out of reach. No matter how hard you tried to bridge the gap between you, it seemed to widen with each passing day until it felt like you were living in two separate worlds.

In the end, you made the difficult decision to walk away, not because you stopped loving Lewis but because you couldn't bear the loneliness of being the only one fighting for the relationship. It was a choice born out of self-preservation, a refusal to sacrifice your own happiness and well-being for the sake of a love that had long since grown cold.

And now, as you navigate the aftermath of the separation, you can't help but wonder if things could have been different if there was anything you could have done to save what was lost. But deep down, you know that sometimes, letting go is the only way to find the happiness and fulfillment you deserve. So you go about your day, cozied up on the couch in your cozy apartment, still missing Lewis but very much understanding of your decision.

As Lewis sits alone in his room, his phone is clutched tightly in his hand, and he can't shake the feeling of desperation that washes over him. He's tried everything – calling, texting, even reaching out through social media – but all his attempts to contact you have been met with silence.

Each unanswered call and unanswered message feels like a dagger to his heart, a painful reminder of your absence and the uncertainty that now looms over his life. He wonders what he could have done differently to prevent this rift from forming between you.

His mind races with questions, each one more torturous than the last. Was there someone else, or was it simply a case of drifting apart, with two souls heading in different directions? He refused to believe that because he loved you more than life, he still does.

The lack of closure gnaws at him, a relentless ache that refuses to be quelled. He longs to hear your voice, to see your face, to have just a moment of connection with you again. But no matter how hard he tries, you remain elusive, like a ghost slipping through his fingers.

In the depths of his despair, Lewis clings to the hope that someday, somehow, he'll find a way to reach you, to break through the walls that separate you and bridge the chasm that now divides your lives.

As you step out for your first date since leaving Lewis, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbles within you. It feels like a tentative step forward, a chance to explore new possibilities and rediscover a sense of joy and companionship. Chris seemed nice, and he was attentive to you, something you hadn’t felt in a while.

But as you arrive at the restaurant, the atmosphere suddenly shifts, a sense of unease settling over you like a heavy cloak. The flash of cameras blinds you momentarily as paparazzi swarm around, their lenses trained on you like predators stalking their prey.

Caught off guard, you freeze in place, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggle to comprehend what's happening. How did they find you? And more importantly, how will Lewis react when he sees the headlines splashed across the tabloids?

The date itself fades into the background as you're engulfed by a whirlwind of anxiety and fear. Thoughts race through your mind, each one more terrifying than the last. Will Lewis think you've moved on too quickly? Will he feel betrayed by your decision to start dating again?

As the paparazzi continue to snap away, you feel exposed, vulnerable, as if your every move is being scrutinized and judged by the world at large. It's a stark reminder of the price of fame, the invasive nature of public scrutiny that leaves you feeling like a prisoner in your own life.

But still, your biggest concern was how Lewis would handle it.

He wasn't okay.

As Lewis catches wind of your date through the relentless paparazzi coverage, a storm of emotions rages within him. Jealousy, misery, and anger collide in a tumultuous whirlwind, threatening to engulf him in their tempestuous embrace.

The thought of you with another man fills him with a sense of unbearable longing and regret. He's missed you, more than he ever thought possible, and the idea of you moving on without him cuts him to the core. How could you be okay living without him, when every moment without you feels like a lifetime of emptiness?

In his mind, he replays the memories of your time together, each one a painful reminder of what he's lost. He wonders if he could have done things differently or if he could have been the partner you needed him to be. But now, it feels like too little, too late, as he watches helplessly from the sidelines as you move on with your life.

The bitterness of jealousy twists in his gut, fueling his anger and resentment. He wants to lash out, scream, and shout and make you understand the depth of his pain. But beneath the anger lies a deeper sadness, a profound sense of loss that threatens to consume him whole.

As Lewis grapples with his conflicting emotions, he's left to confront the harsh reality of your absence and the painful realization that he may have lost you forever. But he refuses to give up on you.

As Lewis observes the subtle ways you've been avoiding him, a mix of frustration and longing wells up within him. It's become increasingly clear that you're actively steering clear of any situation where you might cross paths, and while part of him understands, another part can't help but feel hurt by your apparent avoidance.

He's noticed your absence at mutual friend gatherings, the empty space where you used to stand, and it feels like a painful reminder of the void left by your departure. Each missed opportunity to reconnect only serves to deepen his sense of loss, leaving him to wonder if you'll ever be willing to face him again.

But amidst the disappointment, there's a glimmer of hope – your unwavering commitment to attending his brother's birthday celebration. It's a small gesture, but one that speaks volumes to Lewis. Despite the distance between you, despite the pain of separation, you're still willing to show up for his family, to be there for them in their moments of celebration.

In that realization, Lewis finds a sense of solace, a reminder that maybe, just maybe, there's still hope for reconciliation. He knows that healing takes time and that wounds need time to mend, but seeing you make an effort to be there for his family gives him hope that maybe, someday, you'll find a way to bridge the gap between you and find your way back to each other.

"She's going to be here?"

Nicholas nods cautiously, "Yeah, but Lewis, you have to let her be, okay?"

"What are you talking about? She's my fiance?"

"But she's not." Nicholas interrupts.

"And she hasn't been for half a year."

The words dawn on Lewis, and they make his heartache in a festering way, yet he can't help but feel comfort in knowing that for the first time, he'd be able to see you again, face to face.

As you step into Nicholas' birthday party, a knot forms in the pit of your stomach, a tangible manifestation of the nervousness that courses through your veins. You know Lewis will be there, and the thought of facing him again fills you with a sense of apprehension and uncertainty.

Your heart races as you scan the crowded room, searching for any sign of him. Each familiar face you encounter sends a jolt of anxiety coursing through you, and you can't help but feel a pang of guilt for the way you've been avoiding him.

Determined to keep your distance, you slip through the crowd like a ghost, carefully avoiding any areas where you suspect Lewis might be lurking. You plaster on a smile and engage in polite conversation with the other partygoers, but your mind is elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of the man you're desperately trying to avoid.

As the night wears on, the tension in the air becomes palpable, a silent undercurrent that threatens to pull you under. You steal furtive glances around the room, half-hoping to catch sight of Lewis and half-dreading the inevitable confrontation that awaits.

But as the hours pass and the party begins to wind down, you realize with a sense of relief that you've managed to make it through most of the evening without crossing paths with him.

The knot in your stomach loosens ever so slightly, and you allow yourself to breathe a small sigh of relief.

That is, until you see him.

As Lewis scans the room, his gaze inevitably falls upon you, blending seamlessly into the crowd. There's a longing in his eyes as he watches you from afar, a silent ache that tugs at his heartstrings with each passing moment.

He can't help but notice the way you move with a grace that belies the nervousness he knows must be churning within you. Despite your attempts to blend in, there's an undeniable magnetism about you that draws his gaze like a moth to a flame.

Memories of your time together flood his mind, a montage of moments both joyous and bittersweet. He recalls the way your laughter filled the room, the warmth of your smile, and the way your eyes sparkled with mischief when you were up to no good.

But beneath the surface, there's a sense of sadness, a yearning for the connection that once bound them together. He longs to reach out to you, to bridge the gap that now separates you, but he knows that now is not the time nor the place.

With a heavy heart, Lewis watches from a distance, his eyes lingering on you like a silent prayer. He knows that healing takes time, that wounds need time to mend, but deep down, he can't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, there's still a chance for reconciliation, an opportunity to find your way back to each other once more.

As your eyes lock with Lewis's across the pulsating dance floor, a surge of panic propels you into action. Without a second thought, you pivot on your heel and dart through the crowd, your heart hammering in your chest like a wild drumbeat.

Every fiber of your being screams for escape as you push your way toward the exit, the urgency of your flight drowning out the thumping bass of the music. But even amidst the chaos, you can feel Lewis's gaze burning into your back, his presence a heavy weight that follows you like a shadow.

With each step, your pace quickens, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you try to put as much distance as possible between yourself and the man you once loved. But no matter how fast you run, you can't outrun the memories that haunt you or the longing that lingers in your heart.

And then, just as you reach the sanctuary of the exit, you feel a hand grasp your arm, pulling you to a sudden stop. You turn to face Lewis, his eyes searching yours with a desperate intensity that leaves you reeling.

In that moment, you're paralyzed, caught between the urge to flee and the desire to confront the emotions that swirl between you. But before you can make a decision, Lewis's voice breaks through the chaos, a whisper of longing that sends a shiver down your spine.

With a sense of inevitability, you realize that there's no escaping the truth – no matter how hard you try to run, the bond between you and Lewis refuses to be broken. And as he reaches out to you, his desperation palpable, you know that you can't ignore the pull of fate any longer.

"Baby, please, let me talk to you."

As you finally turn to face Lewis, the sight of him stops you dead in your tracks. His eyes, usually so full of life and vitality, now seem dulled with a sorrow that cuts you to the core. They glisten with unshed tears, twinkling in the dim light of the club, and his fluttery eyelashes betray the vulnerability that lies beneath his stoic exterior.

At that moment, he looks like a kicked puppy, abandoned and alone, and you can't help but feel a pang of guilt for the pain you've caused him. His expression is a silent plea for understanding, for forgiveness, and it tugs at your heartstrings with a force you can't ignore.

Despite your best efforts to steel yourself against his gaze, you find yourself crumbling under the weight of his sorrow. The walls you've built around your heart begin to crumble, and all you can see is the hurt reflected in his eyes.

With a heavy sigh, you reach out to him, your fingers trembling as they brush against his cheek. In that moment, you realize that you can't bear to see him hurting like this, that despite the pain of the past, your love for him still lingers like a ghost, refusing to be silenced.

You turn, allowing his grip on your arm to remain as you continue out the door. You are in a dark alley, he's still looking at you with that same miserable pout lodged onto his face.

"You left me," He whispers.

As Lewis's voice trembles with emotion, his words pierce through the barrier you've erected around your heart. The sincerity in his apology is palpable, each syllable weighted with the regret of past mistakes. You can't help but feel a tug at your own heartstrings, a flicker of empathy for the pain he's endured.

"And I don't blame you, I was shit to you. I've been struggling more than I care to admit," Lewis confesses, his voice heavy with the weight of his words.

"The season has been relentless, and the constant setbacks with my car... it's been a mental battle I haven't been winning."

He pauses, searching for the right words to convey the depth of his anguish. "I know I haven't been myself lately, and I've taken that out on you. I'm sorry, truly. I never meant to hurt you, but I let my frustrations get the best of me."

There's a vulnerability in his voice as he lays bare his struggles, a raw honesty that cuts through the silence between you. "I see now how my actions have affected you, and it breaks my heart. You didn't deserve to bear the brunt of my pain, and I'm sorry for not being there for you when you needed me."

His gaze meets yours, pleading for understanding and forgiveness. "I'm trying to work through this, to find my way back to myself so that I can be better for you. I want to be better for you."

His admission hits you like a wave, washing away the bitterness and resentment that had taken root within you. It's as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders, the burden of hurt and anger finally dissipating in the face of his vulnerability.

With a heavy sigh, you meet his gaze, seeing the turmoil reflected in his eyes. In that moment, you realize that despite the pain of the past, the love you once shared still lingers between you, a flicker of hope in the darkness of your regrets.

And as Lewis continues to pour out his heart, expressing his remorse for the loneliness you felt in the relationship, you find yourself nodding in understanding. You know all too well the toll that suffering in silence can take, and you can't fault him for wanting to shield you from his own pain.

In the quiet of the moment, you find solace in the shared acknowledgment of your struggles, a silent understanding that binds you together even as you stand on opposite sides of the divide. And as you reach out to him, offering a tentative embrace, he physically brightens as if you have taken the sun and held it right above him.

"I need you to know," Lewis begins, his voice laced with a raw vulnerability, "how miserable I've been without you. Your absence... it's been like a gaping hole in my chest, a constant reminder of what I've lost."

His words tremble with the weight of his emotions as he continues, "I've missed you more than I ever thought possible. Every moment without you felt like an eternity, and the emptiness of your absence was impossible to ignore."

"I know I've made mistakes, pushed you away when I should have pulled you closer," he admits, his voice thick with regret. "But please understand, it was never because I stopped loving you. If anything, it was because I loved you too much and didn't know how to cope with the pain of making you feel as miserable as I was, but in the end, that is exactly what I ended up doing."

Lewis's gaze meets yours, pleading for understanding and forgiveness. "I can't change the past, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. Please, give me a chance to show you how much you mean to me, how lost I am without you by my side."

As Lewis pours his heart out, his words piercing through the walls you've built around your own heart, you feel a lump form in your throat. A single tear escapes, tracing a path down your cheek as you struggle to contain the flood of emotions welling up inside you.

His vulnerability is a mirror to your own, and in that moment, you realize just how much you've missed him, how much you've longed to hear those words spoken from his lips. With a trembling breath, you close the distance between you, your heart pounding in your chest as you lean in to kiss him.

The touch of his lips against yours is like coming home, a familiar warmth that envelops you in a cocoon of love and longing. In that fleeting moment, everything else fades away – the pain of the past, the uncertainty of the future – leaving only the two of you reunited at last in a tender embrace.

As you melt into each other, the weight of the world falls away, replaced by the sweet promise of a new beginning. And as you pull back, breathless and teary-eyed, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you'll face them together, hand in hand, forever bound by the unbreakable bond of love.

"Lewis," you begin, your voice soft but firm, "I need you to promise me something. I need you to promise that you'll open up to me next time, that you won't keep your struggles bottled up inside."

Tears still glisten in your eyes as you speak, but there's a determination in your voice that wasn't there before.

"That's how it works in relationships, you know? We're supposed to be there for each other through the good times and the bad. And I want to be there for you, always."

You reach out, taking his hand in yours, offering a reassuring squeeze.

"I love you, Lewis, and I care about how you feel. I don't want you to ever feel like you have to internalize your emotions like you have to suffer alone. I want to walk through them with you, hand in hand."

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you continue, "If we're going to make this work if we're going to have a future together, that has to change. We have to be able to lean on each other, share our burdens, and lighten each other's load. Can you promise me that, Lewis? Can you promise to let me in?"

"I promise I'll try," Lewis responds, his voice tinged with sincerity and determination. "I know I haven't been the best at opening up, at letting you in, but I want to change that. I want to be more vulnerable with you, to share my struggles and my fears."

He reaches out, gently wiping away the tears that still linger on your cheeks.

"I love you more than anything, and I don't want to lose you again. If that means being more open and honest about how I'm feeling, then I'll do whatever it takes."

A small smile plays at the corners of his lips as he continues, "You've always been there for me, even when I didn't deserve it. And I want to be there for you, too, to be the partner you deserve."

With a final squeeze of your hand, he leans in to press a tender kiss to your forehead. "Together, we can get through anything. I believe that with all my heart."

As Lewis holds your hand, his thumb tracing absentminded patterns over your skin, he can't help but notice the absence of the familiar weight of your ring. His heart clenches painfully in his chest at the realization, a sharp pang of regret shooting through him like a bolt of lightning.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammers, his voice thick with emotion. "I can't help but notice... your finger, it's bare." The words catch in his throat, choked with the weight of his own guilt and remorse.

His grip tightens ever so slightly as if trying to hold onto you, to keep you from slipping away. "It pains me to see you without it," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know I'm the reason you took it off, and I hate myself for it."

Tears gather in his eyes as he meets your gaze, his own filled with a mix of sorrow and longing. "I miss the way it sparkled on your finger, a constant reminder of the love we shared. I miss us, and I'm so sorry for everything."

With a gentle squeeze of Lewis's hand, you offer him a reassuring smile, your eyes soft with affection. "I missed you too, Lewis," you admit, your voice tinged with sincerity. "And I still love you, all the same."

You can feel the tension in his grip ease slightly at your words, a flicker of hope lighting up his eyes. "As for the ring," you continue, a playful twinkle dancing in your gaze, "I suppose you'll have to put it back on my finger when we get home, won't you? Can't have everyone thinking I'm single, now can we?"

The corners of Lewis's lips quirk up into a hesitant smile at your jest, the heaviness in his heart beginning to lift. "I'd like that," he murmurs, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "I'd like that very much." And in that moment, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you'll face them together, hand in hand, forever bound by the unbreakable bond of love.

Lewis's eyes widen in disbelief as your words sink in, a glimmer of hope flickering to life in their depths. "You'll come home?" he repeats, his voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and longing.

A rush of emotions floods through him – relief, gratitude, and a profound sense of joy that threatens to overwhelm him.

A smile spreads across his face, lighting up his features with an infectious warmth. "Roscoe will be so thrilled to have you back, and so will I," he adds, his voice filled with genuine happiness. "I've missed you more than words can say, and I can't wait to have you home again where you belong. Losing you has been hard on all of us," Lewis confesses, his voice tinged with sorrow. "But seeing how miserable Roscoe has been without you at home... it breaks my heart."

He pauses, his gaze drifting to the floor as he struggles to find the right words to express the depth of his concern. "He's been moping around, refusing to eat, just waiting by the door for you to come back. It's like he knows you're not coming back, and it's killing me to see him like this."

You can hear the pain in his voice, the weight of his worry pressing down on him like a heavy burden. "I know he's just a dog, but he's family to us," he continues, his voice cracking with emotion. "And I hate that he's suffering because of me, because of my mistakes. I'm happy that you're coming back."

"I've missed you more than words can say, and I can't wait to have you home again where you belong."

With a sense of renewed hope and determination, Lewis pulls you into a tight embrace, holding you close as if afraid you might vanish into thin air. In that moment, surrounded by his love and warmth, you know that coming home was the right choice and that together, you can weather any storm that comes your way.

As Lewis's arms envelop you in a warm embrace, a sense of clarity washes over you like a cleansing wave. In his embrace, surrounded by his love and warmth, you realize that the change you needed wasn't leaving him but instead learning to communicate with him all over again.

The weight of your decision to leave lifts from your shoulders, replaced by a newfound sense of lightness and freedom. You see now that leaving him only made you miserable, that true happiness lies in facing your challenges together, hand in hand.

With Lewis by your side, you feel stronger, more resilient, and ready to tackle whatever obstacles life throws your way. You understand that change isn't always easy, but it's necessary for growth and renewal.

In this moment, surrounded by his love and support, you know that change is indeed good and that together, you can navigate the twists and turns of life's journey with grace and resilience. And as you bask in the warmth of his embrace, you feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the opportunity to start anew, to rebuild your relationship from the ground up, stronger and more resilient than ever before.

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bunnyreaper · 8 months

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𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘 𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝖕𝖙 3 — 𝖕𝖙 2 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 wc - 7.2k warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom sub dynamic, hints of petplay, mild public play notes - part 3 kind of ran away from me, if you can't tell from the word count!! i had a lot of fun with this one, so i hope you enjoy! also on ao3! ♥

Life was teaching you early on in this budding relationship that life without Johnny drags.

The first day or two he was gone wasn't so bad. Before he'd even left the country, he'd sent you an incredibly drool-worthy photo of him in his fatigues. You've spent more time looking at it over the past week or so than you probably should've—fixated on the size of his arms, the confident pose, and the mic set around his neck.

The sight of that alone sent your thoughts reeling—and was the part you'd zoomed into on the most, beside Johnny's handsome face.

Then came the voice note, the one you've been listening to on repeat—addicted to Johnny's words and voice. Finally, you have it captured to listen back to on demand. He'd sent you other voice notes since, shorter ones with "I'm thinking about you." or "Just met a street cat, his collar said his name is Halim!" with a photo accompanying it.

Those made your heart sing, and your smile wide, but the last one he sent was him explaining he'd be going dark, and he'd message again whenever he could.

That had been over a week ago now, and the radio silence left your nerves on edge, frayed and tested as you waited for any sign.

Some sense of salvation had come in the form of an after-work drinking session that turned into a full-blown night out—it was a welcome distraction and an oasis of general socialisation after your desert of solitude.

You were dressed up nice, getting a little tipsy and dancing the night away—only checking your phone as you pulled it out to pay for a drink.

The missed call notification has you rushing to down the drink, so you can head out the back of the club. As soon as the pounding music fades away, you're pressing the phone to your ear and listening to the dial—it feeling tortuously slow as you wait for Johnny to pick up with every ring. Just before it goes to voicemail, his voice is blessing your ears once more.

"Hey, pretty girl." He greets, his voice seemingly as bright as always.

"Johnny!" You all but squeal in excitement, a heady combination of missing him and the effects of the alcohol making your enthusiasm bubble over.

He laughs, slow and sweet, as warmth spreads through your chest. "Missed me that much, aye?"

You missed him far too much considering the current state of your relationship, but even in your intoxicated state, you know to keep that mostly to yourself. "Missed you so much!" You giggle, moving further away from the door as a group of people join you out back—cigarettes hanging from their fingers.

"Missed you too. Where are yer?" Johnny asks, clearly hearing the commotion in the background.

"I'm out with some people from work, but I'll go home right now, I swear—"

Johnny cuts you off before you can even finish your offer. "Don't you dare, lass, enjoy your night. I just wanted to let you know I'm back, tha's all."

Hearing from him was such a relief, and you are so glad he called—though now you don't want to stop talking again. "Does that mean we can meet soon?" You ask—voice light, flirtatious, and most importantly hopeful.

"I was thinking Sunday if that works for yer?"

"Making me wait again, Sergeant?" You practically twirl your hair around your finger as you tease him, smiling unreservedly as you hold the phone to your ear.

"Keep talking like tha' and I'll come down there right now." His growl is playful, but you can tell using his rank has some sort of effect on him.

You pull your lip between your teeth, giggling once more and flushing with need. "Do it, I dare you." You taunt.

Johnny's sigh is a little defeated, his tone a little tired and flat compared to usual."I cannae, still got things to wrap up. Tha's why I said Sunday and not tomorrow, sweet thing."

You relent with your joking, not wanting to keep up with teasing when Johnny seems a little... low. "You're worth the wait." You whisper into the phone, soft and sincere—you hope that makes him smile at least.

"We'll sort out the details tomorrow, yeah?"

You nod, even though he can't see it. "Sounds good."

He perks up a little bit, even if it sounds somewhat forced. "Feel like doing me a favour before you get back to yer friends?"

"Anything." Your answer is instant, especially if it would cheer him up right now. Coming back from the things he must see has to be hard, and you can't blame him for continuing to be affected by it. Is that why he needed an extra day? To decompress and adjust back to being Johnny instead of a sergeant in the army?

"Send me a picture of your outfit." The sentence lands somewhere between a question and a command—though you had every intention of complying anyway.

"Yes sir." You answer instinctually, not putting too much thought into it until you hear Johnny's growl in response. The kind of growl that ignites something deep within you every time you hear it.

His voice is low, rumbling down the phone with a hint of playful warning. "Bonnie..."

"Sorry." You laugh lightly, before turning more sincere. "I'm glad you're safe, Johnny."

The line is silent for a moment, just long enough for you to worry you've said the wrong thing, but as always, Johnny washes away your doubt. "I'm glad you waited for me."

"Of course." A shiver passes over you, the night air making you want to retreat back inside. You wrap an arm around yourself as you brace yourself from the cold. "Talk tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow, for definite. Have a nice night, angel." His wish is sincere, the softness in his voice something you'll replay over and over again.

"Night, Johnny."

You wait for him to end the call before you rush back into the club, beelining straight for the bathroom to snap a picture just for Johnny. The dress isn't your usual clubbing outfit, having come straight from work, but you look cute, and you feel confident as you send the picture straight to Johnny.

The next day drags even more than the last few have, especially with the mild hangover thundering your skull. Every part of the day is just about going through the motions, getting through it, so you're one minute closer to seeing Johnny. Every moment is a little dull, until you find yourself waiting for him at the exit of the train station.

The excitement and the nerves wage war inside you—with each passing second, you're getting closer and closer to being swept up in Johnny's arms, to hopefully feeling like you're finally home. But with each second, you're inching closer to vulnerability, to risk, to the possibility that somehow he might decide after today that he never wants to see you again.

Maybe he'll look at you and realise he doesn't quite like your body, or the way your mouth moves when you talk. Maybe he'll hate your mannerisms, or find that in person you're actually really boring to talk to. Perhaps he'll just know within moments of meeting you that you'll never be his home, never be his.

The thought is terrifying, crawling around the back of your mind as you scan every passing face in the hopes of seeing the silly little mohawk you long to run your fingers through.

And when you do, the world stills.

You spot him before he spots you, and you get a moment to appreciate his searching gaze, his quietly confident swagger, the way his denim jacket stretches over his shoulders, and his shirt clings to his stomach.

In short, he's a vision. All man—big and strong and beautiful. It takes everything within you to not launch yourself into his arms as soon as he gets close.

He continues to look around as he makes his way through the ticket barriers, glancing between the crowds and his phone as he makes his way closer and closer. You emerge from your hidden spot, your legs carrying you without hesitation over to him—and when your eyes meet, you both stop completely still for just a moment. Nothing but wide smiles on your faces and a magnetic pull that draws you together.

The bodies in between you are a hindrance, a barrier you both need to be gone as you weave through them before finally standing before each other—and at that moment everything feels right.

"Wow." Johnny says as he looks you up and down and drinks all of you in.

"Wow yourself." You giggle, checking him out just the same and adjusting to just how much more handsome he is in person—as if such a thing were possible. "Hi Johnny." Even you are surprised by how breathless you sound, but it makes perfect sense when you consider how fast your heart is beating, how your hands are starting to shake.

"Think I must be dreamin'" He blinks in disbelief, unable to keep the radiant, infectious smile off of his face.

You blush deeply, and find you can no longer meet the intensity of his eyes. "Flatterer." Your word is a whisper as you push yourself to your tip toes and wrap your arms around Johnny's neck, pulling him in for a hug.

His strong arms wrap around your waist, holding you close, tightly enveloping you in a serene feeling of safety, as well as his fresh, masculine scent.

Home. You think it's the closest you ever felt to it, bundled up in his arms as he cradles you like you're the most precious thing on earth to him.

His hands roam over your back, caressing you so delicately and savouring every bit of you, as your own hands thread around the back of his neck, and you sink your fingers in, grasping him to ground yourself in the moment. It's real, he's real, and being in his arms feels so right it almost hurts.

"You're even more gorgeous in person, bonnie." He whispers in your ear, breath hot and sending shivers all over your body. Thank god he's holding you upright, as your entire being is so vulnerable right now to every sensation.

He pulls away slightly, but keeps you close, his eyes returning to yours once more, looking at you like you're everything.

"I could say the same about you." You giggle, feeling self-conscious beyond belief. "Your eyes..." They're so blue, two oceanic pools of deep emotion, pulling you under the longer you stare.

Everything you feel is reflected in his eyes—hope, bliss, excitement.

"Grew them maself." He laughs, his nose wrinkling as he laughs at his own silly joke.

He has you captivated entirely, as you drink in every single feature on his face—the strong brows, the scar on his lips, the dimples hidden behind his stubble. Every detail makes your heart thump against your rib cage, makes you want to reach out and trace your fingers over every little thing you discover.

You're snapped out of your reverie when someone's bag brushes past you, and you remember you're in the middle of a train station, blocking people's way.

"We should move out of the way."

"Aye." He nods, slipping an arm around you so as to not lose contact as the two of you shuffle out of the path of the commuters. "Fuck. Am not letting you go now."

His grip tightens around you as he pulls you in once more, hands settling on your waist as he stares down in adoration.

"Good." You can't help the smile on your face, so big and bright your cheeks hurt from how unwavering it is—that's just the feeling Johnny inspires.

This time, it's him who seems affected by your gaze, as he averts his eyes from yours. "'s a bit weird, though." He admits, a strange shyness to his tone.

Nothing about Johnny right now would suggest he's anything even close to nervous or uncomfortable, but you figure a man like him is very good at masking how he really feels. Your hands slip to his chest, your thumbs rubbing soothingly back and forth as you try to project a sense of calm to soothe you both.

"Have you never done this before?" You ask, curiosity brimming but with no underlying judgement.

"No." His cheeks begin to redden as he glances at you briefly, a rare display of shyness from the seemingly endlessly confident man. "Don't laugh, it's ma first time."

You continue your soothing gesture as you speak from the heart.

"I wouldn't laugh! I have done this before, and I'm still so fucking nervous." Said nervousness escapes you in the form of a clipped laugh. "... If it wasn't obvious from the blushing and shaking."

Johnny made you nervous, and yet peaceful all at the same time. His pull was irresistible, concrete, even if you stumbled to him on shaky legs. You knew what he might be feeling right now, if his heart was anything like yours.

"Oh, am sweatin' a tonne right now, if ya cannae tell." His laugh and smile are almost disgustingly sweet, along with his unbracing honesty. Johnny really is something else, you think.

You step away from him, intertwining your fingers into his much larger hand, as you start to lead the way out of the train station. "Better get you out into the fresh air then."

The two of you walk in comfortable silence across the short distance until you're hit with the sun's warmth and a blast of cooler air. You start walking into the city centre, aiming to wander around for a little to kill time.

As you walk, Johnny's grip tightens, and his hips sway playfully into your own, nudging you only to pull you back to his side with a bright grin on his face. "Meant what I said about not letting go of yer hand."

"Keep it, it's yours." You squeeze back, looking up at Johnny to see him observing his surroundings keenly—must be a soldier thing, you muse. "Do you come here much?"

"A little. Usually kept pretty busy back on base." He answers, glancing at you before taking in more of the area.

"Well, I guess you'll be getting familiar." You nudge his hips, returning his earlier playfulness as you flirt with him unashamedly.

His eyes are fixed on you now—a brow raised and a mirthful smile on his face at your assumption.

"Oh, will a now?"

"I hope so." You admit sincerely, feeling the heat in your cheeks. If you keep smiling as much as you have so far, the expression will be permanently etched onto your face. "But that'll be more, so after we see the kitties. Our slots in 20 minutes, right?"

"Aye, you excited?" He looks at you as if to confirm your true reaction, his eyes searching.

"I am, honestly I was expecting just a normal coffee date but as soon as you suggested it, I couldn't let it go." You're practically rambling, but honestly, Johnny's suggestion was perfect. First, it let you know he enjoyed, or at least was at ease around cats, which was always a green flag. Plus, it was something different, catered to the two of you that shows he'd been thinking about it, and who wouldn't swoon at that?

And on the off chance there was an awkward silence where you didn't know what to do, at least you had furry friends for you both to pay attention to.

His eyes flicker with doubt for a moment, before he masks it with a distracting smile. "Was worried it might be a bit naff."

If only he knew how much you had been freaking out about how cute you found the whole thing—and the fact that he might as well have just straight up said it was the beginning of your new dynamic together. You'd be his pet, the whole thing made perfect sense. "If it is naff, it'll only be because I might get jealous."

"Ach, why?" He asks, seemingly finding the idea of you needing to ever feel such a thing ridiculous.

You look up at him with soft, pleading eyes and a playful pout on your lips. "Well, you'll be giving all the cats head pats, but will you have any for me?" Even the tone of your voice is designed to tug at his heartstrings, slipping into your role so naturally.

"I'll always have some for you, kitty." He laughs, letting go of your hand just to ruffle at your hair until you playfully shove him away—then he's grasping at you again, not wanting to relinquish contact for even a second.

"Besides, they get to wear collars and flaunt it right in front of me. Don't they know what they're doing?" A suggestive smirk is directed at him, which he eagerly returns.

"Oh, you'll be in one before you know it, bonnie." He drops this news so casually, like it's the most natural thing in the world— as if the two of you are just having a regular conversation "We'll come again, make them jealous right back."

You swallow thickly, already aching for that eventuality—even if it may be a ways away.

"Sounds like a date." You mumble, filled with shyness and need. Coughing, you take a moment to compose yourself and steer the conversation away from something that will send your thoughts spiraling. "I did look through the website to see what kind of cats they had, and there's a cat with your name, different spelling though."

Johnny pulls you closer, head dipping slightly to talk close to your ear, his tone dropping to a dangerous low. "Now I'm gonnae be the jealous one."

His words make you shiver, make it difficult to keep walking like everything is fine—but you can flirt just like he can. You look up at him, fluttering your eyelashes prettily as you smile so sweetly. "I've only got eyes for one Johnny, don't worry."

The blush that rises to his cheeks tells you that your act had the desired effect.

"That's what I like tae hear." He mumbles, squeezing your hand in an affectionate gesture.

After wandering the high street for a short while and just enjoying each other's company, you circle back to your destination. The two of you enter the café, kick off your shoes (or boots for Johnny), and are seated at a table toward the back of the room— just a little out of sight from everyone else. You order a tea, while Johnny orders a flavoured coffee, giving you an insight into his tastes and preferences that makes you smile.

You remind yourself to keep that information in mind for later, filing it away under your list of things about Johnny that you're sure will only expand throughout the day.

When the server leaves the table, the two of you look upon each other fondly—shy smiles and burning cheeks. There are so many words at the tip of your tongue, so many things you want to say and ask and know about the man before you—as your brain buzzes with energy, so do your hands, feeling a little lost now they're no longer connected to any part of his body.

It's easy to tell that Johnny sees more than he lets on, as he observes you before him and seemingly filters through your thoughts.

You return the favour and watch Johnny intently—eyes fixated as his tongue darts out to wet his lips, as his throat bobs as he swallows, and your brain is invaded with a deluge of inappropriate thoughts.

Luckily, you're saved by the bell—a little tinkling noise from a cat beside you as it walks on by and demands your attention with a haughty meow.

"Look, there's Jonny!" You gasp quietly, the cat just a few feet away staring at you curiously. Taking it slow, you lower your hand to the ground and make no move toward the cat, waiting for it to get a smell and a feel for you. It isn't long before the cat in question is launching himself into your lap, drawing delighted laughs from both you and Johnny.

You run your fingers through the thick fur of the white longhair, figuring out what spots the cat likes most.

"He likes you." Johnny comments with amusement, shuffling ever so slightly closer until your thighs touch—his arm slips around the booth seat behind you as he settles in.

Your eyes meet his, your skin prickling with the intensity of his closeness. "Hopefully like the human version."

"Definitely." The arm around the back of the seat comes to settle on your shoulders, as Johnny slowly moves his hand over to the cat and lets him sniff his fingers. Johnny's eyes brighten unmistakably when the feline nuzzles against his hand, and then he breaks out into a mischievous grin. "D'ya think he's cuter than me?"

Johnny tilts his head to the side, almost puppylike as he preens at your attention—your eyes roaming over him as if you're making a difficult choice.

"Hmm. He has a lot more hair than you do, but I think you win." You give cat Jonny another stroke, while you smile at human Johnny with glee. "I'll have to feel how soft your hair is to make a real decision, though."

You say it mostly as a joke, but Johnny looks sincere as he urges you to do it. "Go on."

You raise your hand, panic flowing through you as you hesitate for a moment—your fingers hovering inches away from Johnny's head. He leans into your touch, as you stroke through the short tufts of hair. "It's... so soft." You admit, pulling away quickly before you get carried away.

"What did yer think it was gonna feel like?" Johnny asks with a barked laugh that you can't help but return.

You crinkle your nose, because honestly, with the fact he clearly uses styling products to make his mohawk stand on end, you hadn't expected it to feel as soft and pleasant as it did. "I don't know, I can't imagine you have premium shampoo and conditioner in the army."

"They're just naturally luscious locks, dinnae what to tell yer." He swishes his head playfully, as if he's flipping a head full of hair.

"Effortlessly flawless, just like the rest of you." You tease him, joining in the joking.

"Oh aye?" He asks with a wink, playfully fishing for more compliments.

Not that he needs to fish, you think. Surely Johnny knows how handsome he is, and even before meeting him, you've gushed over his good looks.

Still, you look upon him with genuine admiration and rapidly unfolding infatuation, you're exalting words tumbling freely from you without much thought. "You're just so... gorgeous, godlike, really."

"As are you, bonnie. Cannae believe it." The look in his eyes is so real, so intense it makes your heart twinge, and leaves no room for you to doubt the sincerity of his words.

The two of you continue to stare into each other's eyes, enjoying the silent conversation that seems to pass between the two of you—the unspoken desire and adoration.

"Are we just gonna spend the day staring at each other?" You giggle, breaking the moment when it becomes a little bit too intense for you.

"Wouldnae be such a bad thing." Johnny replies swiftly, ever so smoothly.

Jonny the cat takes that moment to crawl off your lap, rubbing himself along Johnny as he all but demands pets from the man. Johnny indulges him instantly, large fingers scratching at that perfect point between the kitty's ears. Watching it shouldn't make you blush as much as it does.

"I think he likes you too."

Johnny nods, a serious look on his face. "He knows we're chums."

"You must give really good head pats." You tease, wishing you could take the words back as soon as you said them. Was saying such a thing too much too soon? Was it too early to start to invoke elements of your potential future dynamic?

Johnny meets your eye, his lips curling into a smirk as his eyes turn mischievous. "Wanna find out?"

"Of course." Your response is instant, breathless—already offering yourself up to the man before you. You quickly remember your manners. "Please."

Johnny lets the cat on his lap jump down before he turns his attention to you fully, his hand settling on top of your head as he gently, carefully caresses you. Your body is quickly overwhelmed with shivers, an electric sensation coursing through you as his fingers dip deeper into your hair, massaging at the back of your neck until your eyes start to slip shut from the sheer bliss.

They shoot back open when his fingers dip the chain on your neck, tugging sharply enough to get your attention without putting any real force behind it.

He leans in as if to share a secret, his smirk wolfish as you continue to react so perfectly to his touch. "Nice choker, by the way, pet."

"Wore it just for you." You whisper, words weak as you tremble with so much need for Johnny.

He's pulling back, taking all his warmth with you, before he strokes through your hair one more time. "That's my girl."

You could burst into flames right now, or simply melt under the intensity of his gaze. Not even an hour into date one, and you can already feel how wet this man has made you, how much he makes your heart call out to him. Your body and soul burn with need, already wanting more of him in every way.

"Fuck." You sigh in frustration, burying your head into his shoulder to hide your aroused expression. "I hate that there's so many people around right now."

"Feeling naughty?" He chuckles in such a knowing way, because he knows exactly what he's doing and how you feel about it.

You meet his gaze, eyes desperate and pleading for mercy. "Johnny, I feel drunk and mindless already and you haven't even actually done anything."

He moves one of your hands from your thigh to his, holding onto it for a moment. He won't offer you mercy, but he will at least let you see how you make him feel too. "Can I borrow your hand?"

"Why?" You ask reflexively, before your thoughts catch up to you. Oh. Oh!"

You allow him to move your hand further up his thigh until your fingers graze over the hardness in his jeans, and you have to stifle your gasp with your other hand.

"Why am letting the cats come to me insteada the other way around." He whispers, voice gravelly and strained.

The feelings both his words and his body inspire in you are dangerous, causing you to act as you palm at his cock through his jeans, listening to the hitches in his breath as you begin to stroke and caress. He's rock solid, all before you even laid a hand on him, and it's addicting to you that he's clearly in just as deep as you are—that he sees all this as you do.

His hand moves to grab at your wrist, warning but not painful. "Ach, quit it." He groans, now on the receiving end of such wonderful torture.

"You started it." You whine, taking the chance to grasp him one more time before you stop your teasing. "Johnny you're fucking huge."

Already your head spins just contemplating it, but Johnny only adds to your delirium.

"Wait until it's stuffin' yer little cunt full." He purrs, lips brushing against your skin as he does, and you have to resist the urge to moan aloud.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to pull away from Johnny as you slip out of the booth. "Okay, I need a breather, join me at the cat tree when you've... calmed down."

His smile is devilish, as he watches you go, content to spectate from afar as you coo over the kittens until he can join you.

Your time at the café passes quicker than either of you would have liked, and when it's time for you to vacate your table, the server approaches once more with a bill for the teas and coffees you had enjoyed.

"Will you be paying together or separately?" They ask, which causes you to glance at Johnny questioningly.

You'd already, in your mind, prepared yourself to offer one or both halves of the bill.

Johnny speaks before you can. "Together." He insists, reaching for his wallet and offering his card to the server—not allowing any room for argument.

You stay silent until the transaction is complete and the two of you are alone again, before you decide to address it. "Johnny... I would've paid."

He shakes his head, flipping his wallet shut as he slips it into his back pocket. "Don't be ridiculous."

You open your mouth to offer further protest, but his brows quirks as he almost challenges you to say another word.

Accepting defeat, you smile graciously and sincerely. "Thank you."

"My ma would pitch a fit if she found out I let yer pay." He continues to wave it off like it's nothing. "Let me spoil yer, aye? You'll hafta get used to it anyway. Okay, kitty?"

You're not sure if it's the idea of him spoiling you or the nickname that makes you shiver the most, but the combination of both makes your head spin.

"I better start thinking of ways to repay you." You joke, throwing him a flirtatious wink as your hand snakes under his jacket to stroke at his chest.

Johnny pulls back, face flashing with a realisation and a bright grin. "Oh, before I forget."

You watch him, just a touch confused, as he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small, patterned paper bag—he hands it straight to you. "Got yer a little somethin'"

"Johnny..." You groan playfully, having not expected a gift, or having brought anything for him either.

"It's nothin', promise." He smiles, encouraging you to open it.

You peel open the paper bag to find a handmade, woven bracelet inside—one you've seen in countless stalls across your life, but the sight doesn't fail to make your heart sing.

"Oh my god, a friendship bracelet?" Your delighted gasp is genuine, as you feel touched by the gesture.

"Needed to buy something at a souvenir shop. Y'know blend in, look like a tourist." He shrugs casually. "Thought of you."

"I love it, thank you." You clutch it to your chest, genuinely so pleased. "Did you get yourself one?"

"No?" Johnny plucks the bracelet from you, as he takes hold of your wrist and gets to tying the threads together.

You pout, half joking and half serious, as you realise you won't be matching. "Wow, guess we're not friends then."

"Puppy." His tone is warning and serious, drawing your attention to him so obediently.

You swallow, nerves flooding through you. "Yeah?"

His eyes never waver from yours, the sincerity within making you tremble. "The things I'll do to yer, friends don't do tae each other, yeah?" His low tone and the lack of a playful smile make you clench.

"Understood." You nod dumbly, too awestruck and aroused to give him a real response.

"Good girl." He grins, patting your wrist with the bracelet now attached. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah..."

He takes your hand in his once more, leading you back to the entrance to collect your shoes before you make it back onto the street. All the while, you turn his words over in your head, desperately holding on to the soaring feeling in your chest and the pit of arousal deep inside you. The effect he has on you is downright vicious.

"Where to now?" He asks, waiting for you to lead him around the city.

The cooler air of the street helps calm you down, as you steer your thoughts back to more appropriate things.

"I was thinking we could just walk around, window-shop. Maybe grab some dinner? When have I got you til?"

"Last train is at 9."

You sigh wistfully, already dreading the moment he has to feel. "Doesn't feel like long enough."

"You'll be sick of me by then, lass." He chuckles, his smile still making you feel as full as it did the first time you saw it.

"Not if you're sick of me first."

The two of you take in the city streets hand in hand for a little while, wandering around the shops and chatting about anything and everything. The conversation comes just as easy as it always does, and before long the two of you head for something to eat and drink at a nearby pub.

The atmosphere is cosy as the two of you tuck yourselves away at a table in the corner, order your food and drinks and get to chatting once more. You've already teased Johnny for ordering another coffee along with his meal, while he needled you for ordering several side dishes instead of a main.

Both of you are excited to tuck in when the food arrives, and your conversation turns to getting to know more about the other.

"So, what can you tell me about work?" You ask, finally feeling brave enough to broach the subject. Johnny's work will come with a lot of complications, you already know that, and one of them is likely that he will have to be careful about the things he shares. That doesn't stop your curiosity, though.

"What d'ya wanna know?" He responds, open and earnest, as he dips a chip into his sauce.

You think for a moment, trying to conjure up your most pertinent questions. "Who do you work with?"

Johnny swallows his food before wiping his hands on his napkin and pulling out his fun. He turns it to you when he brings up a photo, zoomed in on an older man in tactical gear.

"Well, first there's the Captain, Price. Best captain we could ask for." He comments, looking to you for your response.

Something in the Captain's eyes tells you he's dependable, and you can hear the respect he holds from Johnny's voice.

"Interesting facial hair." You giggle, referencing the grown-out mutton chops that surprisingly suit him.

Johnny laughs, nodding in agreement. "Oh aye, a right character he is." He swipes along the photo to another man, much younger but tall too.

His smile is the first thing you notice, so bright and earnest, and with perfect teeth.

"Gaz, Kyle. We're always getting into shit together." He adds with a mischievous chuckle. "Good lad though."

"He looks nice." You offer, before scrolling across the image yourself.

The next man in line is the tallest and broadest, his face hidden behind a skull mask that you find strangely endearing. "Ooh, cool mask."

"That's Ghost." Johnny whispers, his voice more sombre than before.

The lack of a real name combined with the mask confuses you. "Just Ghost?" You ask.

"Aye, unless he tells you otherwise. Scary motherfucker, loves a good dad joke though." Johnny humanises him, and the fondness within his voice doesn't escape you.

All in all, you're left with more questions than answers, but you already feel privileged that Johnny has shared this much with you. Still, there's something pressing on your mind. "Everyone gets a nickname, what's yours?"

"Soap." He answers firmly, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

"Soap? Why?" You can't say you're familiar with military nicknames, but Soap certainly seems like a strange one.

"Am good at cleaning house." There's something underlying his playful tone that you can't quite put your finger on, something hinting at the inevitable darkness underneath.

Johnny pushes past it like it never happened, turning the attention back on you. "How's your work, anyway?"

"Boring, though I imagine every job is compared to yours." You pause, taking a sip of your drink as you try to conjure up anything interesting about your career. "I work at my PC all day and the highlight is office gossip, which is often about one or two messy people fucking everyone in the building."

"Like reality TV, but you live it?" He smirks, already seeming amused by the inevitable stories he'll get to hear. It seems Johnny might be a little bit of a gossip.

"Yes, exactly!" You giggle, finding his intrigue endearing. "So I live in reality TV and you live in one of those gritty military shows."

"Pretty much." He clicks his tongue, turning to take a sip of his own drink as his eyes glaze over again.

You dread to think of all the things he's seen—witnessing them on TV is already too much for you, never mind seeing them for real.

"... It must be tough." You offer earnestly, unsure of what else to say.

"Sometimes, it's no' so bad, really." He shrugs, a tight smile on his lips. "I'd rather not talk about it while I'm with yer, not now anyway. That okay?"

The softness in his eyes fuels the guilt gripping at your chest—you never meant to pry or make him uncomfortable, only to offer yourself up as a safe space. "Yeah, I'm sorry."

"Nothing to apologise for. You'll have plenty of time to get to know that part of me, tha's all." He gives you a smile, a more earnest one this time, as he refuses to let either of you settle in a solemn moment. Instead, he redirects to the idea of you spending time together in the future.

"Oh, I will?" You ask, voice hopeful—any negative emotions swirling away as Johnny reaches out to stroke your hand.

"Already planning our second date in ma head." He winks cheekily, that gorgeous smile back on his face in full effect.

You settle back into your meal with a contented warmth spreading through you, feeling like there's nowhere else you'd rather be than by Johnny's side.

When you make it to the train station hours later, your heart starts to sink as you get closer and closer to your goodbye. The sun is only just beginning to dip into the sky, but the train schedule demands Johnny's return to Hereford.

The two of you stand before the departure boards, savouring your last moments together as you hold each other close.

"How are yer getting home?" Johnny asks, ever the gentleman.

You don't look him in the eye as you speak words you know he isn't going to enjoy hearing, in fact, you all but hide in his chest as you mumble. "I was planning on walking."

He stiffens, pulling away slightly. "I'll order an uber." His words are laced with a protectiveness—and whether it's his instincts as a man, a soldier, or a dom you're not sure. Likely, it's a combination of all, making him determined to get you home safe and sound.

You already know better than to argue with him on this. "I can order my own uber."

His eyes soften, clearly relaxing upon hearing you relent so easily. "Promise?"

You nod. "I swear, I will."

You cuddle back into his chest again, the two of you clinging to each other. With your ear pressed against him, you can hear the steady rhythm of Johnny's heart, and you focus on it beating as you absorb every last moment with him.

That moment is interrupted by the station announcement, informing you that the next train to depart will be his.

"I better get going." He loosens his grip on you but still holds your arms as he stares down at you adoringly.

"Don't want you to." You admit, voice a little forlorn. It already hurts to let him go, especially since you don't know when you'll see each other again. Johnny could be deployed again at any moment, and after making all of this real, the thought seems paralysing.

"I don't want to either, but I'll see yer soon." He whispers soothingly, a hand stroking across your cheek as the promise falls from his lips.

You force yourself to smile, to feel strong in the face of your separation. Something within you urges you to put on a brave face, to show Johnny that you can be resolute for him. "We'll have to think more on a cool date number two idea."

"We will." He nods, fingers still stroking oh so delicately across your cheek, as his eyes flicker down to your lips. "Bonnie?"

"Yeah?" Your response is barely audible, your breath stolen as you know what's coming next, and you crave it so desperately.

"Gonna kiss yer now, if tha's alright."

"Please."

Johnny closes the final inches as he presses his lips to yours—soft and gentle at first as his hand cups your cheek, before the other comes to grasp at you too, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss. Your body floods with euphoria, desire, peace—as you kiss back with everything you have and pour all of yourself into him.

The two of you are lost in each other, all grasping hands and lips caressing lips—two hearts opening up to each other.

Johnny is the only one of you with enough restraint to pull away, settling his forehead against yours as he smiles unreservedly—his eyes shining with delight. "Fuckin' Christ."

You push against his chest, putting some distance between you as you giggle. "You better go before we commit acts of public indecency."

"Aye." He nods, yet he tucks a finger under your chin to angle your mouth up at him. "One more?"

You nod enthusiastically before diving back in, savouring his lips on yours—the taste of coffee, the softness contrasted with his stubble, the hint of a groan that rumbles through him.

"Okay." He sighs, forcing himself to step away, even if your hands remain linked. "Message me when you get home, yeah?"

"I'll be texting you the second you leave, sorry."

"Oh, I was planning on doing the same, dinnae worry." He winks.

Reluctantly, you let him go—instantly feeling a little more lost without him at your side.

"See you soon, Johnny." You call out, smile soft as he makes his way over to the ticket gate.

"Not if I see yer first, sweetheart." He calls back, then turns his attention away to scan his ticket at the barrier.

On the other side, he catches your eye once more, offering you a tiny, playful salute before he turns to make his way to his train.

You're left in a weird state between euphoria and emptiness—feeling like you have everything and nothing at the same time. Johnny was everything you could've wanted and more, and you're already counting down the days until you can see him again.

You watch until his silhouette disappears, and turn your attention to your phone to get to ordering that uber you promised him you'd take. When you unlock your phone, a message from Johnny is waiting for you.

Miss you already, my pretty kitty <3

#john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty x reader #call of duty fanfiction #soap mw2 #call of duty fanfic #soap cod #collars and cages #this is a big chonky read and idk how to feel about it but here we are

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not-magdi · 5 months

Text

"Us, Forever"

Summary: Pablo can't believe how lucky he got with you, he really can't believe it

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N

I managed to get Corona! The one time I would have had time to write something I got Corona and a Fever that cooked my brain. But, now my test is negative again and my brain is producing ideas like crazy!

Hope you like this one though,

Love you guys Magdi <3

You didn't know what to think when you saw his pain-filled expression on TV. You sat there, completely frozen, worry the only thing on your mind.

When you heard his sobs over the phone as he told you how bad it was, your heart shattered into a million pieces. That day made you realise that from that moment on, you had to be the strong one in this relationship.

It made you realise that he needed you to be the one he could lean on, the one Pablo could let his guard down, somebody that could be strong for him too. So he didn't have to be all the time.

You made it to your mission to do everything in your power to help him in any way possible. You rebuilt your living room into a bedroom, so he didn't have to go up any stairs. You held him day and night when the pain got too strong, and the only thing he could do was cry.

"Baby, I'm here ... I'm here for you. Let it all out I got you."

His grip on your hoddie was so hard that his knuckles turned white. You wrapped your arms around him like you wanted to protect him from everything terrible that this world threw at him.

Pablo felt safe in your arms. Your sent calmed him down. The warmth of your body engulfed him in a comforting manner.

He buried his face deeper into your neck as he felt his breath starting to slow down again.

"T-Thank you, I-I'm sorry. I don't know what happened."

You grabbed his head to make him look at you. You assured him, "Hey, it's completely ok to feel like shit sometimes. What you are going through is nothing easy. Sometimes you just have to let it all out."

Kissing his head, you stand up to grab something to eat for the two of you. Seeing that it was already 6 in the morning, you decided to start the day, knowing you two wouldn't fall asleep anymore.

Pablo kept lying on the couch. The pain in his knee was now only a dull ache. He sat up a bit to be able to see you rummaging through his kitchen drawers, trying to find something to eat.

An unconscious smile makes its way onto his face. He can't get his head around how you are willing to do all of this for him. Like he really doesn't know what he would do without you. You'd do everything for him, he doesn't even have to ask for it.

But it scared him that you wanted to help him so much. It frightened him that one day, you could wake up and realise how much work it was to be in a relationship with him. And that you would leave him because of that.

Realistically, something like that would never happen, but he was a chronicle overthinker, so let him be.

When you came back from the kitchen with two plates in your hand, you sensed something was bothering him, but you wanted him to tell you on his own.

You two ate your breakfast in silence, it was a weird kind of silence. You felt that Pablo wanted to tell you something the whole time, but nothing came. He just sat there and played around with his food.

"You not hungry?"

Looking like a child who got caught doing something stupid, he shakes his head and lowers his gaze again, not able to hold eye contact with you for so long.

Thinking he wouldn't say anything at all. You were about to say something when you heard him say. "How do you do it?"

Confused, you look at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, like ... like how do you keep up with me?"

Your confusion didn't get any better. You looked up from your plate and saw Pablo already staring at you, a curious yet slightly sad expression on his face.

Pablo noticed your confused expression and continued to talk.

" I mean, how can you keep up with literally having to be my server? You are cancelling your plans to stay home with me and do everything to keep me comfortable. You put my life before yours. Why do you do that? I-I don't understand. "

You loved him deeply and didn't see your efforts as a burden. It was natural for you to do what you could to help him. You couldn't enjoy yourself while he was suffering because it felt wrong to you.

Your silence made Pablo panic a bit, maybe he made you realise that you didn't want to live like that. What if you were actually sick of him needing care 24/7 now?

Your voice interrupted his inner monologue, " I have no clue, to be honest. It's just - the second I heard you were injured, I felt like I had to take care of you, to help you somehow."

You took a second to think of your following words. "When I heard you crying on the phone that day, I just felt the need to protect you, to take care of you. I know that you are a capable individual who can handle things on your own, but I want you to know that I love you with all my heart. When you care about someone deeply, it's natural to want to do everything in your power to ensure their well-being. So, even though I trust your abilities, I just want to remind you that I'm here for you if you ever need help or support. Your happiness and safety mean everything to me, and I'll always do my best to make sure you're feeling okay."

Hearing Pablo sniff made you stop your rambling and look at him.

"Dios mio, these medications make me emotional."

Pablo let out a wet chuckle as he wiped his tearing eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie.

You smiled at the boy before you and leaned down to place a kiss on his red nose. "I don't care, I love you one tear more or less isn't gonna change that."

"I love you too, so so much."

#pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi oneshot #gavi x reader #pablo gavi x you #pablo gavi icons #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi #gavi x you #fc barcelona #fc barça

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everparanoid · 6 months

Text

Wholesome Delinquent Behaviour┃Wriothesley

pairing: f!reader x wriothesley

genre: fluff , smut, light Angst

rating: 18+

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

tags: consent is hot, it's all good till the backstory, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Reader is Not Traveler, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Squirting, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, biting kink, inappropriate use of cuffs, spoilers for wriothesley story quest, No use of y/n, Past Murder, Minor Original Character(s), Facials, PWP, Blowjobs, handjobs, everything between reader and wriothesley is consensual

wordcount: 9.5K

synopsis: The first time you met Wriothesley was completely by accident. Not that you remembered it too well; if you did, he wouldn’t confirm it without putting you through a gruelling test. No, the first time you remembered meeting Wriothesley was much later.

You are a prisoner at Meropide who meets and falls in love with Wriothesley over the years of knowing him, and he falls harder.

Originally posted: 30.10.23 on AO3

a/n: I am now reposting my AO3 stuff onto tumblr. If you know me....no, you don't. ;) Also check out my AO3 for more wriothesley fics.

Song Inspiration: ''Safeword'' by TV Girl.

I don't own any of the artwork used.

If everything could come to a stop, just for something she says,

The first time you met Wriothesley was completely by accident. Not that you remembered it too well, and if you did, he wouldn’t confirm it without putting you through a gruelling test. No, the first time you remembered meeting Wriothesley was much later.

You wiped away the sweat coating your brow with the back of your dirtied hand, heaving a deep sigh. The production zone, despite being at the bottom of the ocean, was like what you imagined the hot springs of Inazuma to feel like. You wanted to go there one day—to Inazuma. Although the borders were closed to the outside, the stories you heard of the beautiful Sakura blossoms filled you with the determination to get there. One day, you would. You were sure of it. If you didn’t get struck down by their archon first.

“Inmate, stop slacking! Unless you don’t want to eat tonight,” the guard manning the floor yelled at you.

You rolled your eyes and continued hammering at the heated chunks of metal. Your arms were weak, and your palms were sweaty. It was times like this when you wished you had a cryo vision. You wished for many things. You wished you hadn’t been caught. You wished Fontaine were a better place. You wished that Monsieur Neuvillette felt even an ounce of sympathy for your case, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and the court of Fontaine was as ‘fair’ as they came. The sky had down poured the night you were sent to Meropide. It was the worst Fontaine had seen in four hundred years. You hadn’t seen the sky properly since you probably never would. People rotted down here. So, all you could rely on was the glistening memory of bitter water, and your dreams.

It was better, you decided, to be punished here than in Sumeru, Inazuma, or even Monstadt. You’d been to Liyue once, but you weren’t there long enough to have a clear judgement of whether their form of justice would be any better. Then again you had been arrested before you got out of Liyue and they handed you straight back to Fontaine to be judged by your home region’s laws.

“Inmate!” The guard yelled snapping you from your thoughts. “You’re wanted at the administration area.”

You dropped your hammer, relieved for the break, and shoved past the guard on your way to the lift.

I thought the whole point was you were living on the edge,

“It’s your lucky day, kid,” another guard said as you meandered leisurely toward them.

This guard you liked.

Meropide inductions didn’t happen often. Most of the time the convict was thrown into their dorm and made to figure it out themselves. In the instances of special cases, you were brought out like a friendly face before the storm. You had no clue why it was you they chose, but you always got paid handsomely in credit coupons, so the particulars didn’t matter to you. You had long since abandoned the idea of fairness down here where the sun doesn’t shine.

“What have we got this time?” you asked cracking your knuckles.

“A kid, your age.”

You paused. It wasn’t often you met people around your age down here. Everyone was either one foot in the grave or an adult.

What could this kid have done to end up down here with the downs and outs? You looked out the large glass window, it stared out into the deep blue Fontainian waters. The sea was dark, so you guessed it must be night. Time was more of an idea, a concept if you will, down in the depths. So, you enjoyed rare moments like these to re-calibrate yourself. It was a shame. You had hoped to at least feel the sun’s rays through the water’s refraction, but it was like you said beggars couldn’t be choosers.

The lift lowered down behind you, and you turned to greet this so-called new inmate. You were greeted by a tall scrawny boy, probably not even a year older than yourself with dull icy eyes and jet-black hair. He was drenched in that same bitter water.

You put on your brightest smile and offered your hand.

“Welcome to hell,” you said.

Not your best work but it caused a small snicker from the boy, and your favourite guard who stayed close by. Strange. They never stayed around. Were they that concerned about your ability to induct a fellow teenage delinquent?

Wriothesley paused. When he was given his verdict by the Monsieur Neuvillette he didn’t expect such a warm welcome. Well, warm as far as being greeted at its entrance.

He didn’t take your hand, instead opting to stare at you with those haunted eyes. You were disheveled at beast and downright filthy at worst. Nothing to sing or dance about. Nothing to fall head over heels in love with either, but you didn’t care. Who wanted to find happiness in misery anyway?

“Hell?” Wriothesley echoed. His voice was steady and stern like he was aged beyond his years; by the lack of life in his eyes, he probably was. “Is it that bad down here?”

You shrugged one shoulder.

“Depends,” you said.

“On what?” he asked, calculating. You could feel his brain working from where you stood.

Fascinating.

“Depends on how stupid you are,” you looked him up and down, chewing the inside of your cheek absentmindedly. Then, as if a rocket had been shot up your butt, you spun on your heels and gestured for him to follow with a lazy flick of your wrist.

He did so, catching up to you easily with his long legs and just as long stride.

“I didn’t catch your name,” you said as the lift doors closed behind you taking you down to the actual entrance of Meropide not the fancy entrance for visitors too afraid to see the truth. Fontaine was a giant opera, and you lot in Meropide were the hidden stage crew, slaving behind the scenes after losing your spot in the limelight.

“You didn’t ask,” he responded flatly from beside you.

“Clearly that was the hint for you to tell me.”

“It’s Wriothesley,” he said.

It didn’t sound like it was his actual name. Hell, it didn’t sound like a name at all, but who were you to judge? Meropide was a place to start a new; to redeem yourself from your sins, and nearly burn to death in the production zones breaking your back for an administrator who was a tyrant. What was a kid reclaiming their identity going to do to you?

“Nice to meet you, Ricecake.”

“Ricecake?”

“Hey, you give me a name I can’t pronounce you live with the consequences, Ricecake.”

The doors opened and the lift groaned as steam poured out of its pipes and vents. Some unfortunate soul was going to have to clean those later, and you prayed it wasn’t going to be you. You had a burn on the inside of your arm from the last time you cleaned those steaming pipes, it was a jagged ugly thing to look at, so you kept it hidden. Out of sight out of mind, right?

The receptionist sat behind the desk looking as melancholy as everyone else in this place. Wriothesley was going to fit in just fine, you thought, as you remembered that same almost dead look in his eyes.

“You coming?” you asked the boy who stood gawking at you from the lift. “It won’t take you back up you know. I mean you can try. It’s your sentence you’re lengthening.”

“You don’t recognise me?”

“No?” you said. “Should I?”

You tried to recall when you would have seen him before but only drew blanks. You’d seen so many of the same faces and watched so many of them die that telling anyone apart was a pipe dream for you. However, for some reason, you knew that Wriothesley would stick in your head. Not just because the name was so peculiar but because something about him intrigued you. He didn’t seem upset down here yet. No, he looked curious. Curiosity was dangerous. Curiosity got the smartest people in here killed or beaten half to death. No, Wriothesley stuck in your head because he reminded you of hope.

So, when those sounds start to drift down the hall, and stat to freak out the neighbours,

“No coupons, no meal,” the chef said, his voice booming through the place. You wondered over questioning who would be stupid enough to get into conflict with the head chef. He was a burly man, tall with a glassy eye and a wooden spatula the size of a person. The rumour was that he had been a Fatui skirmisher in the overworld. The truth was he was like every other soul in here, beaten and trapped. Upon seeing the familiar woolfy black hair, spiked in random places you inserted yourself into the conversation.

“Sorry about that boss. He’s new,” you said to the chef.

He waved his beefy, greasy hand at you to leave.

“Don’t let your friend come back unless he has coupons. This isn’t charity,” he said with a thick Snezhnayan accent.

“Gotcha,” you said and gave the chef a salute. Hooking your arm under Wriothesleys, you pulled him out of the cue. He nearly tripped over his foot. You dragged him to a secluded table a little away from everyone else, where your singular special box of bread and curry waited for you.

You let him go.

You pointed to the wall where it read, ‘If a man will not work, he shall not eat.’

“Sit,” you commanded pointing to the chair opposite yours.

Wriothesley stared at you like you had grown four heads.

“I have no food,” he said.

“I can see that,” you responded, opening your box and letting the steam waft out. Both of your stomachs groaned at the same time. It had been a while since you had had decent food from the chef, it would be even longer till you had another one; credit coupons weren’t easy to come by and they were better spent on other things like making sure you didn’t get smothered in your sleep.

“How much did that cost?”

“More than you’ll make in your first year,” you said breaking up the bread in your hands.

He gulped dryly.

“How do you know that?”

“You’re a fresher. You’re basically free labour until you have some experience behind you, and some meat on your bones. You’ll be lucky if they pay you a tenth of what you should be getting in your first year. Unless you can fight.”

You let your words settle in the silence between you.

“What did you do?” you ask.

“What?”

“Your crime? What did you do? The guards treat you like a danger to humanity,” you said glancing at the guard who watched you both intently. You could understand them glaring at you but why him?

Wriothesley shifted in his seat, straightening up as if preparing for something.

“I killed my parents,” he said.

He didn’t say anything more than that, he didn’t need to.

You blinked.

“Both of them?”

“Yes.”

You let it sink in for a minute and then nodded.

“I will not be offended if you run, after all this is the entire truth,” he said bluntly. His stomach growled again, and he clutched it willing it to silence itself.

“We’re all crooks and criminals down here,” you said. “But that doesn’t mean we are all bad.”

He lifted an eyebrow at you. You supposed it was because he was expecting you to run. Which meant he obviously didn’t know you.

“What if I am just a bad guy?”

You shrugged. It was not like you were the dog’s bollocks yourself.

“I have a good enough instinct to know that you aren’t, Ricecake,” you said and pushed your now broken-up bread and curry meal toward him. You were going to regret it. You hadn’t eaten a full-fledged meal in three months, but still, you gave it anyway. “Eat.”

You would have wanted someone to do the same for you when you got here. Friends weren’t made under the sea. His eyes widened and his pale face brightened for the first time since you had met him.

“This is yours,” he said, sounding flabbergasted.

“Now it’s yours,” you said. “Eat up and get some rest. You need to be strong if you want to survive around here.”

You noticed something in his eyes then, a spark. It was dull but it flickered. Your stomach flipped again.

You took a sip of your water before pushing it over to him. He was going to need it more than you.

“Thank you,” he said.

You shook your head.

“There is no need for thanks between us. See it as me looking out for a fellow delinquent.”

“Delinquent?” he said taking his first bite of the bread drowned in curry sauce and rolling his eyes in bliss at the flavours. He began to hoover up the box like it was running away from him.

You remembered when you were like that with every small crumb of bread you got when you first got here. Your stomach flipped. What kind of hell had Wriothesley come from?

“Slow down buddy meals like this don’t come around every day,” you said. “Take it slow, no one can kick you out of here to work anyway. Seems they’re too afraid of us.”

He did as you said. Licking off his fingers, he looked around the floor at the glaring stationed guards and occasional inmates. He faced you his eyes glimmered with light like a shooting golden star flying across an icy sky.

“So, how do I get them to trust me?” he said leaning in.

You leaned back in your seat, your arms crossed and a smile on your face. You were sure now, that feeling in your stomach was hope.

remember that it's good, clean fun,

“Happy Birthday!” you grinned, setting down a box you had smuggled up from the cafeteria into his room. He raised a brow up at you. It was the 23rd of November, the day he’d decided was his birthday; the same day he was sentenced to Meropide.

“Ah, thank you,” he said politely. His stomach growled at the delicious aroma coming off the box revealing, despite his calm thanks, his eager anticipation for your yearly gift.

Guilt riddled him, as he dropped the gauntlet he had been upgrading, next to the cashflow machine he had found and tinkered back to use. He had wanted to pay you back. Every year, on the day he arrived you came with a box and another ten pieces of meshing gear for his tinkering, and as much as he secretly loved it, he felt like he wasn’t doing enough to pay you back.

It had been six years and yet he hadn’t gotten you a single thing he considered worth the amount of your kindness. Aside from a necklace with a piece of meshing gear that he had forged into a Cerberus insignia. You wore it everywhere. You wore it then, the rustic insignia rested on your chest. He had already put aside the pieces for a matching bracelet, a little trinket from him to you. A subtle hint to show that you were his, even if he hadn’t said it yet.

He unravelled the box and two tea bags fell out of the wrapping.

You picked them up and shook them before him.

“Tea for the occasion,” you said.

He smiled and closed his eyes.

“I fear, you know me too well.”

He shook his head.

“I don’t know your favourite colour,” you said, brewing the tea in the teapot he kept on the wonky table.

“I don’t have one.”

Meaning he couldn’t choose one without them all tying to you. Maybe it was the colour of your hair, or eyes, or even the colour of your lips, he’d stare at those often. Too often lately. He was staring now. He looked away.

“Well, I guess I do know everything about you,” you chirped.

He thanked you as you handed him a cup of tea with two sugars just as he liked it. You knew these things. It wasn’t like you had spoken about them. No, you had been around him so much in the last few years that these things came naturally to you. It was like breathing. You sat beside him on the ground. Your tea warmed your hands.

“What else does the birthday boy want on his birthday?”

He fought back the blush though he was sure the colour still painted his skin.

“Nothing.”

“Come on! There has got to be something?”

Wriothesley shook his head and opened the box.

“Okay then if you insist. Share this box with me?”

“But it’s yours.”

“And I want to share it with you. Are you really going to deny me on my birthday? Remember, you are the one who asked what I want.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Fine.”

He broke up the bread inside one of the compartments in the box, the same way he'd watched you do it countless times. You reached in and dipped a large unbroken piece of bread into the soup before bringing it up to his lips. He stared at your hand.

“Open up. Come on, birthday boy, if we are sharing then you’ve got to have the first bite,” you said.

When it became apparent that you weren’t going to give up any time soon, he opened his mouth enough for you to slip the bread between his teeth. Both of you without the other's knowledge held your breath when he bit down, and his lips brushed the tips of your fingers.

A shiver ran through your body, one you knew would follow you to bed and into your filthiest dreams.

He pulled back and quickly cleared his throat, as he chewed without tasting.

“It’s delicious,” he said.

“It is,” you choked out, though you hadn’t tried it yet.

He didn’t bother to correct you, too lost trying to calm the riot in his chest. When he felt like he had better control of the battle in his chest he picked up a piece of bread, dipped it into the curry sauce and held it toward you. You blinked.

“You should try some too. You know since we are sharing and all.”

You took a bite from the bread letting the flavours wash over you. They too were lost to the way you noticed his eyes watching your lips enclose around the bread. You nodded and covered your mouth as you chewed.

“It is good,” you agreed, with a mouth full of mush.

He nodded and looked away from you, scooping up another piece of bread and popping it into his mouth. You would have thought he was unaffected until you saw his ears were deep shade of crimson.

Just wholesome delinquent behaviour,

“What’s this about?” You asked as he guided you with his large cold, calloused hands over your eyes. You envied his cryo vision, and his ability to stay cool down in that heat pit. He hid it well, but you knew he had one. You’d seen it one day by accident and not breathed a word about it since. Vision holders were targets down here and the last thing you wanted was to put him in any more danger.

“Patience. Don’t you know all good things come to those who know how to wait,” he said.

He had dragged you out of the production zone after finishing his work and disappeared off like he usually did only to reappear an hour later with that confident stride he had. You barely ever saw him these days, but when you did it would be like he was still the fresh-faced delinquent but older. You were both older. He guided you into a seat and then removed his hands. You missed the cool touch on your skin. It took a second for your eyes to adjust to the poor lighting.

“What is this?” you asked, staring at the giant box in front of you.

You looked up at Wriothesley. It had been twelve years since he came to the fortress and the once soft baby face was gone, lost to the grit of Meropide. Wriothesley commanded the trust and respect of everyone around him much to the administrator’s dismay. When you were working away in the production zone, to he would be off swaying the inmates and the guards, working his natural charisma on those around him.

“What happened?” You asked reaching up and grazing his split lip with your finger. He caught your wrist and dipped his head out of the way flashing you a half smile. He had grown even taller over the years and now you had to reach up to touch him. He glanced at the ring on your finger, and you snatched your hand away, your face flushed with embarrassment.

“I won some more coupons,” he said.

In reality, he had scrapped up the coupons that he’d hidden away in the case of a rainy day and used them to buy you the meal. A week earlier he had lost all his accumulated credit coupons in a single night to the Fortress’s administrator.

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Is that so?” he sassed. “I suppose I should write a will.”

Your expression darkened.

“Kidding, of course,” he said.

“Of course.”

“I went to Sigewinne,” he assured you. “She said I would be fine as long I rested.”

“Good,” you said.

You turned back to the box.

Metal screeched on the floor as Wriothesley pulled his chair closer directly across from you. The place was unusually empty—only a few guards manned the area, but no other inmates could be spotted on the floor.

“So, what is this?” You could smell the faint fragrance of something familiar. Something you hadn’t smelt in years.

“Open it,” he said and gestured with his chin to the box.

You gave him a cautious look and lifted the lid. Inside sat four rolls of bread and two bowls worth of curry. Your heart fluttered. When you looked up at him, he was already watching you; his icy eyes shining like stars. You didn’t want to think anything of it… to hope. Hope was stolen from you. Hope led to you becoming trapped in a loveless engagement with one of the crooked guards.

“You really did it?” you said and ached a little inside.

This was supposed to be a happy moment but all you wanted to do was weep bitter water.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his toned scarred arms over his chest. He looked so broad and solid; all that boxing had morphed his physique into something godly. “I told you I would pay you back.”

“That was twelve years ago, and this is more than triple what I gave you.”

“I added the interest,” he said.

“Why now?”

He looked down at your ringed finger again and frowned. His brows drew together in the way they did when he was annoyed or thinking more than he was going to let you in on.

“I’m going to fight the administrator,” he said bluntly.

You paused mid-snap of your bread.

“You’re going to fight the administrator?” you repeated, unsure of whether you heard him correctly. “Your sentence is up. Why would you do that? You’re going to die.”

He shrugged.

“I refuse to watch people suffer under the crooked ruling of a tyrant,” he said and eyed your ring again. Your finger felt like it was on fire; you dipped a bit of bread in the curry and handed it to him. He waved it away.

“Why are you like this?” you said, and dropping the piece of bread into the curry, you watched it drown and disappear into the thick liquid. “Is it not enough that you’ll be free?”

You blinked back tears, your hands clenched on your thighs. You had watched nearly all of his fights and every single time your heart was in your throat. Every time he bled, every time he shook hands with his opponent; every time the ringleader held up his beaten-up arm to declare his victory. You hated it. You hated all of it.

He said your name with a tenderness he reserved only for you. A tenderness you didn’t want to hear. A tenderness you blocked out with everything in your soul.

“Is it so strange that I would want to fight for those whom I promised a better life out of genuine care?”

“Why did you do that?” you yelled, your voice came out harsher than you intended but it was too late to take it back. That was the thing about words, they could never be unspoken. He cleared his throat.

“As I recall, I didn’t come here to live under the thumb of another driver, and I thought you would understand that more than anyone else, but I see now that I was wrong and clearly you have been broken down after all.”

You bit down hard on your lips, and your jaw clenched so tight that you were sure you would crunch a tooth.

“Ric—Wriothesley. That’s not fair,” you whispered.

“Indeed, it’s not but it’s the truth.” He glanced away for a second. “Look, I am in love with you, and I have been for the last twelve years. I can’t simply watch you be with someone you hate just to get a sentence lowered that you still won’t tell me about. I could have helped you. I am helping you. I’m helping everyone,” he pushed his chair back and stood.

“…What?”

“I’m fighting tomorrow. Show up, if you have some time, of course; or don’t, but I’ll be looking out for you. You can find me in my dorm before then.”

You fought back the urge to chase after him, to slap him, to kiss him, to hold his hand, to hold him so tightly and cry the way you haven’t been able to since the day you were convicted. Instead, you didn’t. You sat in silence and ate the bread and curry watching your heart walk away from you.

Oh, remember your safe word,

His dorm room was across from yours. It was sparse like everything else in the underwater fortress. A pillow and scatty blanket lay atop a barely functioning mattress in a corner. Wriothesley sat at the small table barely standing on its uneven legs. A tiny pot brewed a herbal smelling tea, and two teacups sat in front of him.

“You came,” he said barely above a whisper. His confidence was a quiet one.

“You love me.”

“Would you like some tea?” he asked, gesticulating to the second cup in front of the spare chair.

You had been in here countless times; shared many cups of tea with him; helped pierce his ears and manage his wounds; watched him shadowbox the air as you sat crossed-legged on his bed; you had wondered what life would be like if Meropide was a better place; you had wondered if the people you left behind missed you as you laid next to each other on his floor staring at the giant fan on the ceiling. Not that either of you had anyone but each other. Wriothesley had said his siblings were strangers to him, and he was probably a ghost they would never want to see again. An unfortunate reminder of something they’d all rather forget, but he never forgot. He refused to. He lived his truth.

Every time he told you about his past you worried about how his view would change if you if knew your truth. However, Wriothesley never pressed too hard, never touched buttons he knew you didn’t want to be touched. Instead, he watched and observed, and took in all that you were willing to give him, just to see a glimmer behind the cracks of your mask.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked.

“Please.” He gestured to the chair. “Sit.” he filled your cup.

You took your seat and shifted around, unable to find comfort despite it being your usual chair. Feelings always made things feel different—uncomfortable. You knew this. Yet you still felt the discomfort, nonetheless.

“How did you know I would come?”

“I didn’t but I hoped and thankfully you didn’t disappoint, but you never do,” he said, filling his cup.

“No need to be modest with me, Wriothesley.”

“I am anything but modest with you,” he said your name softly.

You gulped. Wriothesley wasn’t one to mince his words, though tact was his favourite game.

“You must have heard about it already?” you brought the teacup to your lips taking a sip of the liquid. Credit coupons bought anything in this fortress, even the finest tea. “It’s all people can talk about when it comes to me.”

His expression darkened.

It was only a matter of time.

“You do, and yet you still love me?” you asked.

“I recall someone once telling me that we all are crooks and criminals down here but that didn’t mean we were all bad,” he recounted the words you had said to him when he arrived nearly verbatim. He leaned onto the table, and it shook on its uneven legs from the added weight. “Besides, I like hearing stories from their source.”

“Then ask.”

“What got you incarcerated?”

You took a deep breath. What did you have to lose? He had heard worse rumours.

For some reason, you cared about what he thought of you. You knew that feelings were fickle things, and yet, you cared that he loved you. You loved him too.

“Mariticide,” you said cooly, breaking the ice.

“But you were—“

“A child, I know.”

“I was illegally married off when I was eight years old to a man, twenty years my senior.”

Wriothesley remained neutral, you took it as your sign to keep going.

“He didn’t do anything to me until my twelfth birthday and then it started. At first, it was just touching and then it got worse. He was an influential Fontaine nobleman. One of the maids tried to help me report him but it didn’t work. So, one night when he came to my room, I had hidden a butter knife under my pillow. I castrated him and ran away, fleeing Fontaine. I wandered through Sumeru and then to Monstadt but even the city of freedom couldn’t protect me. So, I kept moving. It was when I was on my way through Liyue that the authorities caught up to me. The maid who had tried to help me was sleeping with the man and hence reported me. The hearing was quick, and I was put away fast. No one wanted to consider the implications of a thirteen-year-old being married to a thirty-three-year-old whom they all dined with. I heard he died a few years ago but my sentence keeps getting extended every time it gets close to the date of my term. I suspect it’s the maid. I was supposed to be here for eight years and well, I am still here. That’s why I must marry that Guard.” You took a long sip from your tea and then placed the cup down. “I’m damaged goods,” you said.

Wriothesley remained silent. He looked to be thinking of something and you had never seen his expression so dark.

“You’re not damaged,” he said, “and he’s lucky he lived after that.”

You smiled. It was a bitter smile; one filled with more exhaustion than remorse.

“Luck favours the rich.”

“If a man will not work, he shall not eat,” Wriothesley said, reciting the famous lines that painted the walls of Meropide.

You raised your teacup at him before taking another sip.

“Jokes aside, thank you for telling me,” he said.

He stood up and you feared he was going to ask you to leave. You wouldn’t be sad, at least that’s what you tried to convince yourself, but the sinking feeling came all the same.

He offered you his hand and you stared at it. Your brows furrowed before you hesitantly took it. He pulled you up to your feet. His cold hand intertwined with yours.

“Can I hug you?” he asked.

He’d never asked this before. Did you look like you needed a hug? Because you wanted one.

“Please,” you choked out.

You would never have described Wriothesley as warm, but when he held you in his arms and you heard his heart racing you couldn’t deny that he was undoubtedly warm. A single tear rolled down your cheek. Then another, and another, and another until you were sobbing into his shabby inmate shirt.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “I know.”

You’d been holding onto these feelings for so long. Letting them fester inside you like a sickness. No one had ever stopped to hear your side of the story and you thought you were okay with that. You thought if they stayed away from you then you could pretend to be like every other inmate brought in for stealing a slice of cake meant for Lady Furina. You thought you could hide your truth, but behind every fake smile, you wore it on yourself like a body of armor.

His shirt crumpled in your hands. He swayed from side to side and traced tiny circles on your back with his thumb.

“You did what you had to do. If he was alive, I’d kill him,” he said.

You wiped your eyes and looked up at him. “Please don’t fight tomorrow.”

He brought a hand up to your cheek and brushed away your tears. He decided then that he hated your tears, and he would do anything to see to it that you didn’t feel that way again.

However, he hated the idea of you living with this pain more. He hated seeing that diamond on the finger where his should be. He hated it even more that you knew that he hated it before he had admitted his feelings for you. If his resolve hadn’t been solidified before now it would be completely. He would free you, and if you decided you wanted to be with him once you sprouted your wings, then he would accept you with open arms. He wouldn’t put you in another cage. He’d hate to see your heart break because to him you were his heart.

Wriothesley’s attention dropped to your lips; they were wet with your tears. He leaned down and brushed his lips to the corner feeling your sadness.

You turned your head at the last moment and captured his lips.

He froze.

You gripped his shirt tighter and reached up on the tips of your toes pressing your mouth further into his; willing him to reciprocate. Your first kiss with Wriothesley tasted like bitter water. It was soft and desperate. It knew what it was without the need for words or discussion.

His chest heaved as he pulled away.

“Don’t leave me,” you whispered.

“I won’t…”

He wouldn’t—at least not tonight. Although, he didn’t know whether it was day or night outside of Meropide. The underworld was a different world entirely. It never truly slept. It didn’t adhere to the rules of the sun or the moon. It was filled with endless possibilities. Possibilities that could alter both of your existences and if he couldn’t free you above ground, he knew sure as hell would free you below. Although, one night of keeping you safe in his arms couldn’t hurt.

You sat down on his mattress. You looked so much smaller than he remembered, then again it had been twelve years.

He recalled your soot-covered face, and dull eyes when you had greeted him, the day he arrived at Meropide. The day he had begun his new life; his birthday. Although the circumstances weren’t great, he knew from the moment you said, ‘Welcome to hell,’ that he would love you.

He sat beside you.

“Tell me what you want?” he said, earnestly.

You leaned into him.

“I want you to be yours.”

It was true. You wanted him. Engagement be damned. Even if it was just one night, you wanted something for you. Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was asking for too much, but you didn’t care. You had spent too long denying yourself the things you want to maintain a peace no one else upheld.

Wriothesley gripped your wrist and groaned what sounded like your name, but you couldn’t be too sure.

“Give me a word,” he said.

“What?”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he began.

“I am not fragile.”

Though in front of him, you were.

“I know you are not. Give me a word so I know to stop if it gets too much for you.” He tucked your hair behind your ear and rested his forehead against yours.

“Time,” you breathed.

That’s what you wanted—time. Time to love him, time to live, time to take back all the things you regretted and start again. Time to meet him before you both became who you were.

“Okay,” he said, leaving a kiss behind your ear. “Tonight, you’re mine.”

Only tonight. He reminded himself.

He could promise you that for certain. He couldn’t promise tomorrow, not because he was a pessimist but because he knew tomorrow was never certain. He had you now. He would make sure he had you forever but now would have to be enough. He would make it enough.

“Yours. Completely,” you said.

Another tear rolled down your cheek.

He pulled off his shirt.

Your mouth merged with his, your tongue slipping into his open mouth tangling, exploring searching. He cupped your face in his hands, his eyes closing despite the desire to see every expression on your face.

You broke the kiss and leaned back pulling off your shirt. His eyes dropped to your breasts.

“Just for me,” he whispered, taking them into his hands and kneading them slowly.

He traced kisses down your neck, wishing to mark you, to lay his claim to you. He wouldn’t however, not yet…not tonight.

You fiddled with the string to his bottoms, untangling it and reaching in to feel his erection. He groaned against your neck unafraid to let you know how good it felt. You grasped his cock. It was thick, thicker than you expected, and so hard. You needed both hands to grip him properly.

“Take off that fucking ring,” he hissed upon feeling it on his skin. You did, taking off the ring and dropping it with your shirt on the floor. You gripped his cock again, your hands feeling so much lighter without the mental weight of the ring.

“Harder,” he growled as you stroked him.

You tightened your grip watching as the crease between his brows grew. He rolled his hips into your hand.

“Oh, that’s it,” he panted.

You bit your lip and focused on the reddened tip.

Your thumb brushed the crown wiping away the drops of precum. He jolted, his jaw unhinging, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. You froze and released his cock. He opened his eyes, worried, only to see you on your knees between his legs.

He opened his legs wider and slid closer to the edge of the bed. He brushed your hair out of your face and gripped it in his hand as he used the other to keep him up on the bed.

“Go on,” he said. “Show me how much you want me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

Gripping, his cock you gave the tip a lick listening to his pleased grunts. Slowly you took him into your mouth, enjoying the sensation of his hand gripping your hair.

“Good girl, taking me so well.”

You were soaked just from listening to his praise. You slipped a hand into your underwear and began rubbing your clit.

His breath quickened, and his mouth felt incredibly dry from his inability to close it. His hips jerked, as you took him deeper. He heard you gag as he felt your throat quiver around his cock. He pulled out, letting you catch your breath before he thrust back into your throat. Your eyes rolled and drove a finger into yourself.

You bobbed your head keeping up with the brutal pace he was setting. You loved hearing his grunts and groans; you loved feeling his cock twitch and his pace stagger as he got closer. Despite how hard it was, you looked up at him. His mouth was agape, his eyes barely open. You released him just when you knew he was going to cum.

Wriothesley opened his eyes to see you waiting, mouth open, your mouth and chin dripping with saliva. You looked glorious.

“You’re stunning,” he breathed and released your hair, wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping it until the first spray of cum splattered your lips. “So perfect, with such a pretty mouth.”

You licked your lips and opened your mouth again, leaning closer till the tip rested against your tongue.

Wriothesley felt like he was in a dream or heaven or both.

“Swallow it all,” he panted as he pumped the rest onto your tongue.

You did so, licking your lips and opening your mouth to prove it.

At the sight of your flushed face, your blown lust-filled eyes, and your hand deep in your pants, he found himself hardening again. He had promised tonight, and tonight he was going to have. If he died tomorrow, he’d die a happy man.

“Get on the bed right now, naked and on your back,” he ordered.

You shimmied off your work pants and your underwear, laying on the bed under his hungry gaze. He stood and stripped the rest of his clothes away before joining you on the bed. It was barely big enough for both of you, but he was going to make it work. He kneeled before your closed legs.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Good.”

“Just good?” he teased, a smirk on his lips.

“Mhm just good,” you responded, reciprocating the expression.

“Oh, we’ll have to fix that,” he said, and scooping under your thighs, he opened your legs and pulled you closer to him.

You giggled at the speed at which he had your legs wrapped around his waist and his hard cock pressing against your soaked folds. He caged you between his arms as he rolled his hips slowly.

“I love you,” he said, staring into your eyes.

“I love you too,” you responded.

“I know.”

He kissed you with everything in his soul. At some point, he knew you loved him even if you hadn’t said it till just now. He knew it like how he knew the back of his hand but hearing it made it even better. It made it real.

He rubbed the head of his cock against your soaked hole, pushing in the tip just enough to feel you quiver before pulling out and running it over your pussy again.

“If I fuck you, you’re mine. No one touches what is mine. Do you understand?” He asked

Your heart stuttered.

“I understand.”

“After all, no one will be able to fuck you the way I can. Once I’m inside you unless you tell me otherwise, I’m not stopping until we both see stars,” he said, making sure he looked straight into your eyes as he did.

This wasn’t a game for him, he meant every single word and you knew it.

“Wriothesley, there will never be anyone like you.”

He groaned and slid in. Your back arched at the sheer size of his cock stretching you beyond your limits. You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, grabbing onto the sheets for support.

“Breathe, relax,” he whispered. “Hold onto me.”

He continued to slowly push in bringing his knees closer giving him the right angle to get in as deep as possible. He gasped upon seeing himself completely disappear inside you. You tightened your legs around his waist, and dragged him down gripping his back, locking you into a mating press.

He waited till the need for release subsided before he began to move. The shitty bedframe, not built for the purpose it was being used for, squeaked, and hit against the wall. The sound of skin slapping against skin, and stifled cries joined the air disturbing whatever sorry soul had the misfortune of being on the other side of the wall. Neither of you cared at that moment. Within minutes you had already come twice.

Your chest heaved, and Wriothesley cupped them leaving bites all over your breasts, he avoided any place people would be able to see but needed to mark you somewhere. He moved back up to your ear and nibbled on the lobe.

“Show me how you touch yourself,” he said quietly.

You slipped a hand between your rocking bodies and began to rub your clit. Wriothesley leaned back till he was kneeling. Gripping your waist, he continued to fuck you watching with hawk-like focus the way your fingers played with your clit. It was like you were under display, laid out for him to observe and study, and you were.

“So, that’s how you like it?” he said, feeling your walls clench around him for the third time that night.

You whimpered in response, your words had long since failed you. You began to slow as your hand grew tired and your body became closer to a collection of jolting nerves than functioning limbs.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. You can give me two more, right?” he said.

You moaned as he replaced your hand continuing to rub your clit just as vigorously as you had started.

“Wriothesley,” you cried,

“Ssh, you’ve got this. Let go. Be a good girl and give me two more,” he urged you on.

You bit your lip and threw your head back letting out another cry which he swallowed eagerly. Your walls clenched again, and your body began to show the signs of a squirt. You sprayed, your legs shaking, your toes curling.

“Shit, you’re incredible. One more,” he captured your lips. “You’ve done so good. Just give me one more, my love,” he said against them.

One more and he would be satisfied. One more and he could guarantee that he would have enough resolve to follow through with his plans. Just one more.

You shivered again and bit down on his bottom lip as your final climax washed over you barely a minute later. He growled at the pain, tugging his lip from your mouth, and kissing you properly.

“Well done,” he said but continued thrusting at the same brutal pace. “I’m nearly there.”

You used what little strength you had to keep him inside. He said your name for what was the thousandth time that night.

“Not tonight,” he panted, smiling against your lips. “Trust me, I want to. I do, but not tonight.”

He pulled out and kissed you softly, stroking himself until his release painted your stomach. He kissed your forehead and rolled off you to not squash you under his weight.

You turned onto your side and cuddled into him. He wrapped his arms around you and entangled your limbs. You faced each other on the damp sheets.

It felt like time stopped. Everything melted away, you didn’t know whether it had been forty or four hours, and you didn’t care. You felt sticky and wet, the only thing cooling you down was the natural coolness of his skin on yours. Sleep drifted over you like a blanket not soon after. You tried to fight it off, wishing to talk to him longer; to try and convince him against fighting the administrator; to find a way with you because as long as you had each other you knew everything would be okay…

“Everything is going to be okay,” he said quietly as if he had read your mind, sending you off to sleep. “It’s all going to be okay.”

When you woke the next morning, well when the sound of the guards woke you from your sex-induced coma, Wriothesley was gone.

Remember your safeword.

You woke to cool scarred arms wrapped securely around your waist. Wriothesley’s head rested on your breasts. Flecks of grey mixed seamlessly into the stream of black hair reminded you that you were no longer in the past. You shifted slightly to free an arm. He grumbled something and nuzzled his head further into your breasts, securing his arms tighter around you as if afraid you were going to disappear. It was a habit he had developed over the years, an incessant need to hold onto you when he slept. You didn’t mind it too much, you liked being cold when you went to bed; it helped you sleep better.

“Wriothesley,” you whispered and ran a hand through his hair. You laid a peck on his forehead, and he stirred.

“Is it morning already?” he grumbled, though his eyes remained closed.

He had been awake for as long as you had been lost in your thoughts, silently listening to the sound of your pounding heart. He couldn’t help but wonder what thoughts ailed you on nights like these.

You admired the thick dark lashes casting shadows over his face.

“No, I just can’t sleep,” you said.

You knew his skin like the back of your hand. The scar under his eye, the scar on his neck that led down to the center of his breastplate and stopped on his sternum. The ones wrapped around his arms, the ones that scattered his waist and stomach, the ones on his thighs; even the small faint one on his calf from when he fell over as a kid. He told you that was when he knew his skin was going to be littered with scars. Wriothesley scarred easily and he scarred badly. However, despite their jagged appearances, none of them were too hideous for you to bear. You didn’t like them, but you loved Wriothesley, and as they were as a part of him as any other part of him, you learnt to love them too. They represented how many battles he had won. They represented every promise kept.

You lifted his head up and kissed the scar on his face, the one right under his eye.

You could feel his hardened cock pressing against your thigh. His pupils were blown when he finally opened his eyes.

He loved you so much it hurt. Yes, physically but also mentally. He loved how you accepted him, he loved how you chose him, and he loved how you chose you too. Most of all he loved how you looked when you teased him, so raw, so ripe, so ready to dismantle you completely.

“Oh, I can think of ways to help with that,” he murmured.

“I don’t know if I have the stamina, your grace,” you teased.

He let out a guttural noise.

He nibbled and sucked on your nipple, messaging your other breast in his cold, rough hands. Your breath staggered as you gave in to his touch. The sound went straight to his cock. He had fucked you into the sheets earlier that night, till you were blubbering and couldn’t remember your own name. Still, it wasn’t enough. It was never enough; he would never get enough of you. Despite your fear that one day he would disappear, he never would. It was Wriothesley who worried that one day you would grow tired of his incessant need to be near you; to have you, to consume you. So, he savoured every squirm, every shiver, every breathy gasp of his name that you would spare him, terrified that they’d be his last.

“Ah, well it’s a good thing that I have enough stamina for the both of us,” he said switching his attention from one boob to the other. The earlier hickeys had already darkened on your skin. “Think you can cum again?”

He would kiss each one later wishing for them to last forever.

“You’re insatiable,” you blushed.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I have my favourite meal right where I want her,” he said and began to trail his tongue down your stomach towards your sensitive clit. He wanted you on his tongue, in his senses… everywhere.

“Do you remember your safeword?” he asked. It was what he always did before you both did anything sexual beyond intimate fondling and brisk kisses.

“Time,” you said.

“Good girl.” He half grinned.

He continued teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue, absorbing every twitch and shake of your body.

“Wriothesley,” you spluttered. “I need you.”

“You’ve got me,” he said.

He slipped his tongue into you, circling, lapping, like a man possessed he devoured you. His nose brushed against your skin. It was knowing his eyes were on you the entire time that made everything feel ten times more stimulating. You let out a quiet gasp and gripped his hair.

“You’re so good for me.” He gave you a broad lick. “So perfect.”

He replaced his tongue with his fingers, curling them inside you and scissoring them open to stretch you out not that you needed much with how well he had fucked you before. Still, it was the thought of giving you pleasure that spurred him on.

“Wriothesley,” you said.

He hummed to show you he was listening, the vibration made you quiver.

“I want your cuffs.”

He paused and pulled away, perking up. He secretly loved it when you surprised him.

“Oh? What for?”

You smiled and gestured for his cuffs. He scrambled off the queen-sized bed and walked butt naked to where he left his cuffs. You admired his ass from the bed. He had a great ass, he knew it too, it was why he wore his jacket around Meropide. His nickname Ricecake had gotten around the Fortress years ago and whilst it was okay when he was a convict, he didn’t need that level of familiarity as the Duke. Besides, you were the only one he wanted observing his ass.

He climbed back onto the bed and handed them to you, the spiked metal looked so good in your hands. His eyes flickered to the rings on your ring finger—his rings. The ones he gave you when he officially proposed.

He never ended up fighting that day due to the administrator’s sudden disappearance.

He recalled how you had run around Meropide searching for him, your hair a mess, the beginnings of one of the love bites he had left dauntingly close to view, poking out of one of his shirts that you had thrown on instead of your own. He recalled how you had slammed open the door to the administrator’s office, breathless, beautiful, with your eyes full of tears to him sitting behind the desk organising the abandoned files. He recalled how he claimed you again there, in that office over and over and over again. The other man’s ring was long gone somewhere down the many drains of Meropide, and your sentence cleared not long after. There were perks to becoming the administrator of the fortress of Meropide. Perks that had the maid of that man who hurt you disappear to a place only known by Celestia, the Archons, Navia, and Wriothesley. Neuvillette knew too but unless there was a trial, he would keep his nose out of it.

You knelt on the bed swinging the cuffs on your fingers.

“Where have you gone?” you cooed bringing him back to reality.

“Mm, nowhere, just admiring the view,” he said coolly.

You shook your head and pushed him to lay back against the pillows.

“You’re working too hard, your grace. I can fix that,” you said and straddled him.

Reaching above him, you cuffed his arms to the bed frame.

He cocked a brow and playfully tugged against the restraints.

“Ah, I hope so,” he said.

You kissed the corner of his mouth, smirking.

His cock twitched at the memory of your first time together.

“Remember the safeword?” you asked.

Seeing you sat on him, your eyes filled with life, he couldn’t care less that you didn’t remember your past before Meropide. He didn’t care that you didn’t recall how he was the boy you gave bread to once when you spotted him wandering away from his home. How you had given him, a complete stranger what looked like your last piece of food because he was sitting alone. He didn’t care if all you remembered was your last two and a half decades together… because you were here now with him. You chose him just as he chose you.

“Time," he responded.

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#wriothesley imagines #genshin impact #wriothesley fanfic #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley smut #genshin smut #fluff #smut #angst #light angst #angst with a happy ending

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koipaper · 2 months

Text

YANDERE ABBIE CONCEPT

Pairings: Yandere! Abbie x Beloved (Yours/Your/Yourself)

Trigger warnings: Yandere behavior, Paranoia, Overthinking, Obsessive behavior, Worshipping, an OOC headcanon near the end, Manipulation, Guilt tripping, Probably OOC in general hhghd.

A/N: Despite being alive for only a few seconds, Abbie has become one of my favorite characters from Fundamental Paper Education.

‣ Stated in the introduction, Abbie is shown to be timid and the least intelligent in the class, as well as easily frightened in the animation as well. Him being a yandere is rather tame then most others.

‣ You're a student that had enrolled not long before Claire shows up, you never really noticed Abbie until you were paired with him for a partner project. Abbie was stressed and paranoid, what if he annoyed you with always asking for help? What if you just let him fail his part and he dies just like the other students here?? Oh gosh, he was terrified.

‣ The project was a take at home project, so you both agreed to exchange numbers and meet up at your house to get it done in time. Abbie arrived not a minute late, hands shaking like a leaf from his overthinking on the way there. You both greeted each other and sat down on the pillows you set up above the carpet so you both don't get sore. Abble couldn't stop worrying though. Almost everyone who has tried to help him has given up and left, what if your no different? However, to his surprise, you were very patient with him and even offered to work on the things he didn't understand.

‣ The rest of the night was fun, you both got to know each other a bit and you managed to finish the project within two hours. Abbie had told you that he wasn't smartest in the class, how usually his friend Engal would attempt to aid him but would fail because he was just too dumb to understand. So, you decided to help Abbie pass all of his assignments by doing it for him to save him from trouble. You already had his number, so you could just send him the answers before anything major like a test so he could write it down and pass. ‣ He agreed, and from then on, you both became best buddies! If only you knew that your little act of kindness caused an obsession to brew from the young man... ‣ How I write Abbie, his yandere traits would be Obsessive, Pathetic, Worshipping, Harmless, Dependent, Anxious, Clingy, and Tame. ‣ He sees you as a angel that was sent by heaven to aid him during his time at this wretched school, there was no denying it. He often praises you for how smart you are, as well as how kind and patient you are with him. He wants it all to himself... No one but him should be gazed apon with those loving eyes but him. You don't want him to feel like your abandoning him do you? ‣ Seen in official art, he was holding what seemed to be a love letter while Lana was pulling on his cheek teasingly. So maybe he writes love letters that he might one day send to his beloved to confess. These letters are his way to vent his feelings about you, since he gets too anxious to ever give them to you. ‣ SPEAKING OF ANXIOUS, I feel like Abbie would be in a constant state of paranoia that eventually you'll get fed up of helping him with his work. He'll die without your help! You don't want him falling to the hands of Miss Circle, do you?! Don't leave him, please! ‣ Abbie is quite obsessive when it comes to his crush on his beloved, he fantasizes about you, being in your arms, being able to kiss you, calling you his, he cannot wait! However, this is why he writes in a diary to prevent him from confessing too early. He'd die if you found out about his crush on you. ‣ Lana is no help either. If anything she more or so encourages Abbies crush on you (of course, she hasn't seen what lies beneath his lovey-dovey rambles about you, so she assumes that her best friend is just experiencing a normal crush.) If you ever come to her about Abbies strange behavior, She would shrug it off, saying that maybe he's just trying to show how appreciative he is that you stuck around. ‣ A bit OOC here (or just a personal headcanon of mine), Abbie's rather touchstarved, so affection by you feels like a high to him. Just a simple hug? He melts into your embrace. A small peck on the cheek? He's turning into putty as we speak. Holding his hand in the halls so you can get through a tough crowd? His face is flushing at the feeling. Even if the gesture is small, it fuels his obsession like wood to a fire place. He takes whatever he can get although, so there's that... ‣ Although, secrets can't stay secrets forever. You were invited to Abbies house to do another project just like when you first met. And you got curious and began snooping around his room when he went to get a drink for the both of you. Inside a drawer, you find a book labeled "DIARY: PLEASE KEEP OUT". You thought that maybe a itty bitty peak wouldn't hurt anybody, so you decided to read. ‣ Inside the first few pages were filled with words beyond words about you, mostly his thoughts about you. It was cute at first... until it started getting creepy.. The pages would be just word after word about how much he fantasized about you, how he felt every time he felt you were getting tired of him, and how he couldn't live long without you in his life before Miss Circle or any other of the teachers would kill him. He needed you, he wanted you, he would do anything just for you to be his. ‣ Before you could even react, a hand slammed the book shut causing you to yelp in surprise. Abbie stood before you, water in one hand and the diary in the other. His face was hard to read.

‣ His eyes were shaped like pinpricks, and tears were formed in his eyes, on the brink of spilling if you even dared to run. (His face is a ref to this.)

‣ "You didn't... You didn't see much, did you..?" He asked, his voice cracking and ready to break. Surly you didn't see much right?

‣ He hopes you didn't.

‣ He prays you didn't

‣ After all, he doesn't want to lose the only one who was patient enough to stick by him and his lack of intelligence. He NEEDS you to stay.

‣ He'll die without you, remember?

#yandere #yandere blog #fundamental paper education #fpe #abbie x reader #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere x reader #fundamental paper education x reader #yandere fundamental paper education

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xmalereader · 8 months

Text

ID Leon Kennedy x Teacher! Male Reader

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|| Masterlist ||

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Authors Note: This sat in my drafts for months and didn’t even finish it properly 😭, but oh well. In order for the ages between Sherry and Leon to make sense it would have been RE4R Leon instead of ID Leon, but fuck it, it doesn’t matter. Enjoy this trashy draft!

Summary: Leon is in need of a teacher for his daughter, Sherry and is recommended one of the best homeschooling teachers.

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of family, slight age gap, Sherry needs parents, single dad leon, language, homesickness, really short, mentions of Hunnigan and the DSO, mentions of Claire and Chris, Infinite Darkness Leon.

Word Count: 3.2K

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He always wanted to be a preschool teacher, teaching young kids and watching them grow. He had a way with kids he knew how to talk to them and interact without making them uncomfortable. He grew up in a household with six sisters, he was the only boy in the family and took majority of his time raising his own sisters while his parents worked to maintain them. He never hated it, he enjoyed taking care of his sisters, learning how to do their hair, take them shopping, finding out which clothes fits best with what shoes.

His sisters knew that his dream was to be a teacher one day and to teach younger students, after he graduated high school he quickly went to college to get his proper degree, spending day and night studying and getting his work done. Passing tests and finally reaching graduation, only for everything to crumble.

He’d applied to many schools and was denied. Not because he wasn’t educated enough but because he was a man who wanted to teach young children which caused many schools to be suspicious about him. He had a clean record and showed no signs of trouble but that didn’t matter to them. His dream of being a teacher came crashing down to the point where he was close to giving up.

It wasn’t until he applied for home schooling, hoping to get something. It took him a few days to receive a call from a family who wished to have a teacher for there kids. After they looked at his records and file they quickly accepted him, giving him the chance to interact with the families kids and educate them. The kids he taught were between eight to ten years old, giving him the chance to teach different levels of education.

He was with the family for a year before the kids were officially sent to a public school, his time spent teaching the kids gave him hope in advancing only for the wife of the family ending up recommending him to one of her co workers. She told him that he was a single parent raising a ten year old daughter.

He didn’t meet up with this new client until a month later, giving him time to prepare for a visit and to meet up properly with his new student and parent. Y/n was given an address of where his new client lived, imagine his surprise when he arrives to a large house, big enough for a large family.

He was confused, checking the address twice to make sure that he was at the right place. Did a single parent really live here? Perhaps the job they worked provided them enough money to afford such a big house. He gives himself some time to allow his anxiety to subside before stepping up to finally knock on the door.

It only took a few minutes for someone to come to the front door, pulling it open to come face to face with the most attractive man he’s ever seen. Y/n can’t help but swallow nervously as he asks in a soft voice. “Mr. Kennedy?” He questions, hoping that this man standing in front of him wasn’t his students father.

“Yes, that’s me.”

Fuck.

“I’m Y/n.” He sticks his hand out for a friendly handshake. “You called about homeschooling your daughter, I believe?” He asks, shaking Kennedy’s hand before he was let inside.

“You were recommended to me by a co worker, she told me that you are good at teaching along with Interacting with kids.” His students father raises a brow, guiding him inside the house, giving Y/n the chance to look around the place.

“Yes! Martha was her name—“ he referred to the mother of his old students. “She told me very little about you, telling me that you are a single parent raising a daughter on your own and looking for a teacher.” The two end up in the living room with Y/n sitting down a little further away from Kennedy. “Mr. Kennedy—“

“Please, call me Leon. Mr. Kennedy sounds a bit weird to me.” He chuckled out.

“Right, Mr—Leon. Can I ask, why not send your daughter to a public school? I’m not saying that I’m a bad teacher I’m simply curious to know.” He didn’t want him to think that he was judging Leons decision of homeschooling his daughter, he was curious to know. Most families had attachments to their kids and weren’t ready to send them to a public school, others were concerned about there safety.

He watched as Leon sighed to himself, siting back in his own seat. “I took sherry out of a bad situation, took her under my wing and signed the adoption papers after everything. Her situation caused her to close up.” Leon began to explain, getting Y/n’s attention. “She’s open around me and a few friends of mine but she’s not great with strangers or kids her own age. I believe that it’s a smart decision to have her homeschooled until she is ready.”

Y/n nods along at his words, taking everything in. He’s never dealt with a child who has been through trauma, but he’s willing to accept a challenge and provide the proper tools to help. “Is there anything I should know about Sherry? Perhaps curtain things she doesn’t feel comfortable with?” His question catches Leon by surprise. He guesses that not people ask about his child’s worries.

“She doesn’t like needles or tight spaces nor the dark.” Leon starts to name off a couple of things. “She doesn’t like shouting, it scares her and sometimes she can freeze up.”

Y/n takes mental note of all of this, making sure that he doesn’t do or say anything that will cause the poor kid to panic. “I will make sure that I don’t put her in a tough position, I always want to make sure that my students are comfortable. I would like to meet with Sherry first, if that’s alright? I usually spend my first day getting to know my students before I officially start their studies.”

Leon was hesitant, eyeing him up and down before coming to a stand, nodding his head. “Yeah, follow me.” With that, Y/n comes to a stand and follows Leon deeper into the house. Guiding him down a hall towards an open door, Y/n makes sure to stay back as Leon steps inside, giving the door a soft knock to get his kids attention.

“Sherry, your new teacher is here to meet with you. Think you’re up to it?” Leon asks as the young girl gives him a nod as she stands from her desk chair, coming to stand by Leon’s side as Y/n enters the room with a soft smile. He makes sure to provide her enough space to feel comfortable with as he stands from afar.

He gives a small wave. “Hello Sherry, I’m Y/n.” He intrudes himself, holding onto the strap of his book bag as he swallows. Leon is watching him closely as he approached her. “Honestly I haven’t heard much about you, all I know is that your dad here wants me to be your teacher—“ his eyes avert towards her desk where he takes notice of a Microscope.

“Do you like science?”

That gets the kids attention.

“I know a thing or two about science, I see that you like doing on hands projects.�� He continued. “Perhaps I can teach you a few things, what do you think?”

“Will I see real micro organisms?” Sherry speaks up, her voice high pitched but soft. Y/n smiles with a small chuckle. “Of course, you’ll be able to work on the real stuff. Perhaps we can see how many germs things have?” He suggests.

Sherry is quick to nod, finally opening up to him and claiming that as a victory.

“Do you want to see what I’m working on?” Sherry asks, walking back to her desk to show him her own work that she’s been doing. Leon gives him a reassured nod when he glanced over to him, being granted permission to get closer to her as he stands next to her desk, looking down at the different tools that she had. The material before him is worth hundreds, if Leon was able to afford all of this it made him question what he did for work.

Sherry went on a ramble about her discoveries, showing him everything and pointing out random things that she found. Y/n listens to her and asks a few questions here and there, the child showed high interests in science and it made him question how far up her educational level could be.

After spending a few minutes with Sherry under Leon’s supervision, he is pulled aside by Leon while Sherry is distracted by her own hobbies.

“She’s a good kid, fast learner too.” Y/n says with a smile as he follows Leon out of the room and into the hallway. “I want you to be her permanent teacher.” Leon blurts out getting Y/n’s eyes to widen. “Per—But I usually only teach for a year.”

“And I want you to be Sherry’s teacher. Look, I have met with many teachers and none have made her to open up like you did. She’s usually quiet and doesn’t speak, most of the ones I’ve met so far have given up on her but you haven’t. I saw the way she reacted, she’s comfortable with you and I’d like you to be her teacher. I’ll pay you double and would like it if you moved into our guest bedroom, I spoke to to the agency about your living situation and know that you still live with your family.” Said Leon, catching Y/n by surprise, opening and closing his mouth, not knowing what to say.

“Mr Kennedy—Leon, you don’t have to do that—“

“I insist.” Leon cuts in. “Sherry needs a teacher.” He’s pleading at this point that Y/n can’t resist the offer, sighing to himself he nods in response. “Okay, I—I want to teach Sherry. I just have to get some things packed up before anything else.” He says softly.

“Thank you.” Leon tone is laced with relief once his offer is accepted and is quick to show Y/n the guest bedroom and where he will be staying, letting him know that he’s welcome to come and go as he pleases that he was still free to do so since he was here to teach Sherry.

It felt weird for Y/n.

He was going to be Sherrys teacher that was also going to be living with her and her father, under the same roof. This was new to him and knows that he would have to get adjusted if he is to teach Sherry.

After Leon provides him a key to the place he lets him know that he can move his stuff in whenever he can, giving him the time that he needs with his packing. When Y/n arrives back home to his family he is bombarded with questions from his younger sisters, always wanting to know what kind of kids he will be teaching. Y/n answers his sisters questions with a smile on his face before they leave his side after he was done answering their questions.

His sudden smile faltering and going noticed by his mother who knew that something was wrong the minute he walked through the door.

“Something happen?”

His mother is quick to assume as his father rolls his eyes at her, but Y/n gives off a small shrug. “Well, I got the job but this parent seems persistent to have his daughter learn, he’s had many other teachers see her, but none were to her liking nor was she comfortable with them. She liked me a lot and her father wants me to move into their house until she is ready to go to a public school.”

He can see his mothers face shift into a sad one. “So, you will be leaving?”

Y/n nodded. He couldn’t always going to live with his family he was going to be twenty six soon and affording a place on his own was rough without having a roommate and with Leon’s offer he knew it would be best for him. He was getting paid to live and teach his daughter. This would be the first time he leaves the nest, finally being able to go somewhere that he can provide him the support, not only that but he was being paid double. “I’ll be fine, I can still visit.” He reassured her knowing how worried his mother will be when he leaves the house.

After his discussion with his parents, he gets their help on packing up a few boxes. There’s a lot that he leaves behind for them, letting them know that he already had the necessary stuff back at Leon’s house, not too worried about leaving stuff behind for his sisters to keep. He didn’t have much to pack and is quick to move into the Kennedy household in less than a day.

It felt odd using a key to a strangers house, his stomach filled with knots at the idea of coming home to someone else. His years being sheltered by his parents created anxiety along with fear of change, they were always together and it was finally his time to follow his own path.

His first night there was uncomfortable for him. The silence was new to him for many nights he would hear his sisters gossiping non stop until midnight, falling asleep to their voices and waking up to them arguing about who was going to use the bathroom before school started in order to get ready for the day.

He didn’t hear the sound of his sisters voices in the morning instead he woke up to the sound of silence. Leaving his room and heading to the kitchen where he finds Leon cooking his daughter, Sherry a decent breakfast. Y/n stood frozen, unsure of what to say or do only for Sherry to take notice of his presence and smile at him.

“Morning!” She calls out loudly, getting both Y/n and Leons attention.

Leon looks up from his cooking and gives him a small greeting. “Sleep well?” He asks while Y/n rounds the table, sitting down next to Sherry who bounced in her seat, excited to have him here. “A bit, I’m used to waking up early with the sound of my sisters arguing.” He chuckled out.

“You have sisters?” Sherry’s voice is laced with curiosity as she stares up at him with wide eyes. “Yep!” Y/n smiles at her. “Six to be exact.”

“Six?!”

Y/n laughs at her small outburst. “That’s a big family.” He hears Leon say, finishing up on the cooking and serving them all their own plate. “I’m the only boy in the family.” He blurts out, taking his own plate of food and thanking Leon, staring down at the nicely well cooked breakfast.

“And you? Any siblings?” He suddenly asks Leon.

“Only child.” Leon answers, sitting across from the two as he focused on eating his food.

“I’m guessing its just you and Sherry right?”

Sherry speaks up before Leon could. “And Aunt Claire and Uncle Chris.”

Y/n knew that Leon didn’t have any siblings, it’s possible that these aunts and uncles of Sherry’s are close friends of Leon’s who he’s claimed as family. “You must love your family, a lot, huh?” He chuckled at Sherry’s bashful smile as she goes back to eating her breakfast, finally giving Y/n and Leon the time to talk.

“Can I ask, if its not a problem, but what do you do for work?” Y/n is quick to shove food in his mouth, keeping himself distracted with something.

“Office work.” He answers with no hesitation, feeling Sherry’s eyes on him, knowing damn well that what the man did was not just any ‘office work’ she knew that his job was dangerous and was lying to keep them safe.

Y/n’s eyebrows raised in surprise, another question coming to mind but keeps his mouth shut, not wanting to bother the man any longer. “Oh? I expected something totally different.” He chucked out nervously, clearing his throat and finishing up his food before rushing to the sink to keep himself distracted with the dishes he is currently washing.

“You don’t have to wash those.”

Leon speaks up from his spot on the dining table but Y/n is quick to cut in. “I want too, besides if I am to be living here to help teach Sherry, I might as well and be decent and do my own dishes. Let alone any chores I have of my own…” He mumbled softly before focusing back on his task in hand and setting the wet dishes aside to dry.

Leon chuckled to himself, knowing that he shouldn’t argue back with his daughters teacher. “Very well,” he states, turning to Sherry and giving her a soft kiss on the head after he finished his own breakfast. “I have to head out.” He announced, getting the young girls attention. “How long will you be gone this time?” She pouts out.

“It’s only for a day, Claire will come by to stay the night.”

“Will uncle Chris be with you too?” She questions.

“Yes, both Chris and I will be out for the day. So, again, Claire will come by tonight after your schooling is done.” Leon promises, watching his daughter frown at his words. He knows that his job is dangerous and is sent on long missions, he’s spoken to Hunnigan about wanting to spend more time at home, which is why she tasked him with the shorter missions. But, even those felt too long for Sherry.

“It’s only for tonight.” Leon reassured Sherry who gave a curt nod, pushing her unfinished plate aside before leaving the dining room. Leon knows how stubborn she becomes when he is needing to leave for a mission, Y/n on the other hand didn’t know how to deal with the situation, the tension building up in the room as he quietly moves around the kitchen, distracting himself from what he witnessed.

Y/n looked around frantically, looking for something to do, something to clean but Leons kitchen was already clean. The man kept it clean for him and his daughter, after cooking breakfast he had cleaned up his own spills and washed the dishes that he’s used all expect the pan that he was rushing to clean in order to run away from the awkwardness that filled the room around them.

Leon had been staring towards the direction that Sherry disappeared too, sighing deeply and standing up straight. “Let me know if she causes any trouble.” He speaks up, getting Y/n’s attention and the teacher nods. “Of course…” He whispers softly and watches Leon leave his own house, giving Y/n the chance to sigh in relief once the tension disappears.

It was only his first day and had no idea how react to this change and instead focused on finishing up his cleaning and get started on Sherry’s schooling.

#Leon Kennedy x male reader #male reader #resident evil #resident evil x male reader #Leon Kennedy #ID Leon Kennedy #teacher AU #male teacher reader #one shot #drafts #Resident evil x reader #Leon Kennedy x reader

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roosterforme · 1 year

Text

The Grateful Dad | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: When you lose Bradley's favorite possession while you're away for a work conference, he starts to panic when you get home.

Warnings: Fluff, swears, mentions of sex and pregnancy

Length: 1400 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is an optional one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time!

Check my profile for my masterlist

You just had a hunch. Something was telling you that the timing had worked out perfectly this month. It could have been that night that Bradley made you a romantic dinner for your birthday, complete with s'mores made over the stove burner. Or maybe it was the evening when he'd come into your office while you were grading exams and spread you out on your desk. It could have even happened that Sunday afternoon when he tried on his new dress whites for you.

But regardless, you weren't too surprised when your period didn't start the day it should have. You weren't shocked that it didn't come the following day either. You were in fact very excited when you had to find a store that was open late on the random Tuesday night when you were in Philadelphia for an academic conference.

You took a stack of pregnancy tests back to your hotel room and looked at them sitting in a row on the desk while you called your husband. You would take the tests in the morning as the instructions told you.

"Hey, Sugar."

His voice sounded extra raspy through the phone, and it made you smile at the Clear Blue Easy box in front of you.

"Hi, Beer Boy. How was work?"

"It was fine. I miss you. What time does your flight land on Friday night?"

"Kind of late. Not until ten."

Bradley groaned. "I can't wait to pick you up. I can't even enjoy the Hard Deck without you. Everyone just asks where you are the whole time, and the beers don't taste as good."

You smiled. Hopefully after you took a pregnancy test in the morning, you could tell him he'd have to keep drinking without you for a while. "I'll be home before you know it."

"You gonna send me a selfie?" he asked, and you could practically hear him smirking. You quickly snapped a photo of you all dressed for bed in his old tie dyed Grateful Dead shirt, and when you texted it, he moaned into the phone.

"You look so good in that. You look better out of it."

You laughed and said, "Maybe I'll send you another one in the morning while I take a shower."

"Oh, fuck. Please do. And then get your ass home to me."

The selfies you took in the shower the next morning and sent to him were a big hit with Bradley. And you had to admit that your smile had never looked brighter or happier than they did in those photos. Maybe with the exception of when you and Bradley reconnected at your ten year class reunion.

So you threw away all of the pregnancy tests and got dressed for your conference. And on the way there, you found exactly what you were looking for on Amazon and ordered it with a giddy laugh.

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

Bradley was waiting around, contemplating keeping his uniform on after work on Friday. He knew you would like that, but he still had hours until it was time to pick you up from the airport. So he changed into jeans and a backwards cap instead and decided to clean the house.

"Good, god," he murmured, simply closing the door to your messy office instead of even attempting to do anything constructive in there. First of all, you'd get pissed if he moved anything. And second, the food wrappers and dirty mugs were your problem to deal with, not his. "She's as bad as Nat."

You were kind of a slob, but he loved you and he was delighted when it was time to collect you from the airport. His week had been empty without you. At times it felt like he was still living in that ten year period when he didn't have you with him; nothing was wrong, exactly, but nothing was right either.

"Sugar!" he called out when he saw you at the airport. And holy shit, did you always look this beautiful? Had he been taking you for granted recently? He really hoped not, because you were fucking stunning even in leggings and a sweatshirt as you approached him with a gorgeous smile on your face.

"I missed you, Beer Boy." Your hands were on his neck as you kissed his lips and his mustache, and Bradley pulled you tight against his body. "You look cute in your hat."

He was going to take you home and fuck you hard into the mattress.

However, upon arrival, disaster struck. Bradley watched you open your suitcase on the bedroom floor and gasp as you dug around. "I think I lost your shirt."

Bradley's heart sank. "My Grateful Dead shirt?"

"Yeah."

"Sugar! What the fuck, baby?" he whined in desperation. He loved that stupid thing. He loved that you always wore it. He loved that you kept it with you for ten solid years between college and when you and he reunited. "Seriously?"

When you just winced, Bradley took out his phone. "Which hotel did you stay at again? I'll call them. Maybe one of the housekeepers found it." He had pulled up google to search for the phone number, but he saw you smiling out of the corner of his eye.

"Don't worry about it too much. I got you a replacement."

He thought his eyes were going to bug out. "A replacement? No, that shirt was vintage. Where did you possibly find a replacement?"

"Amazon!" you said brightly, and he groaned and dropped his phone. "Come over here and look at it!"

There was no way you couldn't tell that Bradley was pissed off as you stood and held up a hideous orange, brown and teal tie dyed monstrosity in front of him.

"Oh, no. No no no," he moaned as he read the front of it. "It's all wrong! It's like that 'No Regerts' tattoo meme. And don't even get me started on the colors."

You turned it around the other way so you could look at it, and you calmly told him, "It looks good to me."

Bradley was sweating now. His priceless shirt was gone, and his wife had lost her damn mind. "Sugar. It says Grateful Dad. Not Dead. It's a typo."

You examined it again and shook your head. "No typos," you told him, smiling while he wanted to scream. And then you held it up one more time.

"Wait," he whispered. "Oh."

It couldn't be. Could it? But the two of you hadn't been using protection for quite a few months. The idea of letting it happen naturally, if it happened at all, had appealed to both of you. Bradley's heart was pounding in his ears as your smile grew.

"Sugar?" He pulled the shirt from your hands and tossed it onto the bed, taking both of your cheeks gently in his hands as he gaped at you. "Are you pregnant?" His voice was soft, so scared that he might be wrong about this.

But you nodded and said, "Yes!"

He hauled you up into his arms and shouted, "Hell yeah!"

"You're going to be a dad! To a little Bradshaw Bean!" you told him as he spread you out on the bed and very gently laid on top of you, making sure he didn't put pressure on your belly.

"I'm going to be the Grateful Dad! I'm so happy!" He could feel tears prickling at his eyes as he kissed your face before easing himself down your body and gently pulling up your sweatshirt to kiss your belly. After nuzzling around your belly button, he pushed your shirt up further and paused.

"You are such a brat!" he scolded with a grin when he realized you had been wearing his authentic, vintage Grateful Dead tee under your sweatshirt the entire time. "Just for that, we're naming the baby Jerry Garcia Bradshaw."

Your hysterical laughter as he kissed and tickled you had him smiling for the rest of the night. And when you fell asleep on him, all wrapped up in his shirt after he made love to you, he ordered a newborn sized tie dye onesie.

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

This one goes out to @sometimesanalice for the perfect title, and @je-suis-prest-rachel for the shirt idea! Thanks for loving Beer Boy and Sugar! And thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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The Grateful Dad Part 2

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yanderestarangel · 4 days

Note

So I just finished reading the newest Bi Han fic that you fed us with and now it got me thinking. If it’s fine with you, how well would he take care of (ftm) reader when he finds how that the reader is pregnant? And how well of a father Bi Han would be himself?

This is my first time asking for something like this. So if you don’t want to do it, then it’s completely fine!!

Have a nice day🦾

headcanons mk1 ┊father bi han x pregnant reader

TW ┊ftm reader, pregnancy, first time parents, fluff, soft Bi Han, cute headcanons, little smut, breedkink, breasts, pussy etc are mentioned to refer to the reader, lactation, sex during pregnancy, childbirth, gender neutral baby.

a/n: I see him as a father figure... Father of my children.

໒ Sorry to place your order just now, I'm a bit busy with other things, btw, I hope you like it <3

Bi Han was still a surprise for him to discover that you were pregnant with his baby. But it wasn't a negative surprise... In fact, deep down he always wanted that, even if you would only find out later.

It was a surprise for him, but not for you, after all, every time you had sex for a year it was without a condom and Bi Han always ended up inside — and with all his commitment to being grandmaster he totally forgot this crucial detail, it was obvious that One time or another, even with your care, some mistake was going to happen and after the last meeting between the two of you, you soon started to feel nauseous and even feel sick at the smell of your own boyfriend.

So with all the suspicions, you took a pregnancy test hidden from the cyromancer — and confirming all the clear signs of the last few days... the two lines confirmed that you would be a father. You obviously got tense, cried and despaired, having a mild panic attack in the bathroom of your shared house with him. You didn't know how to think or what to think, but you knew you couldn't hide it from him.

You sent a few messages and called him soon after, you didn't usually send so many messages while he was at work so he immediately got worried and returned your calls as quickly as he could. You cried on the other end of the line while Bi Han's deep voice showed concern and irritability, precisely because you made him nervous and didn't get straight to the point.

"Calm down, breathe, what happened my boy? I can't understand you with you sobbing like that."

The sentence was punctuated with a heavy sigh coming from him and he was practically getting ready to go home to see you, when you dropped the bomb that you were pregnant, with him, you were going to be parents. You expected shouting, swearing and a heated argument, but all you received was silence and then a calm sigh heard from you on the other end of the line.

"I'll be home in a few minutes, have a glass of water and calm down, let's talk about this ok? And no, I'm not mad at you."

That was all you heard before he hung up, his voice was so soft that it scared you, but instead of you becoming desperate you just did as he told you, trying to calm down a little. You heard his heavy footsteps arrive and soon Bi Han's tall shadow was seen by you, before any words you just felt his muscular arms squeeze you tightly in a tight and safe hug, a silent way of saying that he was with you. you and not against you... It was his non-verbal way of saying that he also wanted that.

"I was really surprised, I won't be a hypocrite and lie that I expected you to get pregnant with me now but... You are my boyfriend, the man I am sharing my precious time and moments of my intimate life with, details that only you and I know, I trust you my boy, and I want you to trust me, I'm more than happy to know that I'm going to be a father with you."

A barely visible smile could be seen on the killer's thin lips as he placed a kiss on the top of your head.

"Regardless of everything, I will accompany you my love, I will be with you and sincerely?"

He paused, getting out of the grip and making you look deep into his brown eyes.

"You're going to be a handsome man with a round belly running around the house and carrying my children."

The dreaded Sub zero, was... happy, almost as if the heat had returned to his body, his large, cold hand was now warmer as it found your belly with no sign of swelling, for now. Soon after that, you felt the tears come, as the two of you hugged each other tightly and felt the fear and uncertainty be replaced by a warm feeling of welcome and a prosperous future. You knew that even if he was a cold man, for you, he could change into his best version to see you smile.

When your belly started to take shape, even if small, Bi Han became even more protective than he was. You weren't even lifting a finger to do anything at your house — he woke up earlier, cleaned the house, the dishes and left lunch ready for you while he prepared his lunch to take to the Lin Kuei or some money to eat at a restaurant next.

But that didn't mean he was going to leave you aside, on the contrary, his lunch hours were extended so he could stop by your house and check if you were okay or needed anything - his cell phone, which was previously on silent mode ; now all the notifications were turned on and the volumes were high enough so that he would already be aware of any signal from you. He would fill you with messages and would constantly send some Lin Kuei recruit to deliver a basket of fruit and sweets to you and he would always check if you ate everything.

"I want to see you well fed, you're going to be a father, you're pregnant with the future heir of the Lin Kuei in your belly so you better eat well, do you hear me, baby boy?"

Bi Han would be serious and placing a hot and appetizing plate of food for you as soon as he returned from the clan, he would make sure to feed you every day and make sure you didn't skip any meals.

He became more attached to you too, making a point of accompanying you to every medical appointment you needed to go to and at the baby's first ultrasound he couldn't hold back the tears that insisted on coming down, he didn't really care about the baby's sex as long as the child would be healthy and well and that you too would be well in the process.

He felt like he was in a sweet dream, seeing you looking beautiful walking around the house with a growing baby bump — you had become needier and he didn't deny that he loved it. Seeing you all touchy holding his biceps while he held you from behind and felt your belly, watching your breasts fill with milk and smiling mischievously.

"My boy is all affectionate, isn't he? You're more beautiful this way, you know? Round, with those beautiful breasts that are even more swollen... I can massage them if they're too heavy."

The ninja teased you by seeing the pout you made while he smiled and touched your breasts, his cold hands helped with the constant pain you were suffering from the formation of milk in your mammary glands. And soon after, this ends in sex, more affectionate and careful sex, since at that point your belly was already big and heavy enough and he didn't particularly want to hurt your baby. So Bi Han would always go from behind and slowly insert his dick into your pussy, holding your belly and making you use his body as a safety bar, not wanting to let you fall or get hurt. Soft strokes were given by him inside your wet hole while hoarse grunts could be heard coming from your boyfriend, his balls beat rhythmically at the entrance to your cunt while he placed kisses across your shoulders.

"You're such a beautiful man... Fuck-- do you know how hard it makes me? Knowing that you're going to be mine forever--? That we're going to have a family together? Do you know how much I love you?"

He obviously loved your body, especially the extra weight you gained during pregnancy, it was soft, sweet and he wanted to sink into your flesh.

"I can't believe my boy is so excited... Even pregnant."

He moaned as he squeezed your breasts lightly and made some milk come out of the nipples, licking his fingers and tasting the sweet taste. After a few thrusts he would pull out of your pussy and finish outside, cumming in his own hand so as not to dirty your insides and make it difficult for you to clean yourself.

"I promise I will breed your little pussy as soon as our child is born... I will get you pregnant again later, I promise."

The birth was something different and difficult, a storm of emotions ran through his mind when he saw his water break and the clear liquid coming down your legs — luckily he was late that day and managed to be home when you needed him. He saw the pain and despair in your eyes and didn't even imagine how much it must hurt.

"Calm down, calm down ok? Take a deep breath, shh... Yes exactly like that, good boy, let's go to the hospital. I'm with you on this ok? Look at me."

Bi Han would calm you down as he picked up your bag with the necessary things and put you in his car, driving impatiently and taking you to the nearest hospital.

The hours passed slowly as he practically made a hole in the marble floor beneath his feet, with his arms behind him, he heard your screams in the room and tried not to do anything crazy. He even felt his ice powers go out of control, but he took a deep breath and calmed down, thinking that in a few hours he could have you in his arms again... When the doctor came to inform him of the birth of his child he practically left running to see you in the living room, with the little baby already cradled in your arms, you were tired, sweaty and pale... But he swore to everything that he had never seen a more beautiful man in his entire life. Tears came out of his eyes again and he finally cried as he held on for fear of breaking the little baby you two had made.

"They looks like me..."

Bi Han said, trying not to let his most vulnerable side show but it was in vain, as he leaned over to kiss you on the forehead.

"You got it my prince, you gave me the most precious thing in my life, you are such a strong father..."

He said with a silly smile and saw the nurse take the baby from his arms to place it back in yours, to the little child to feed. The cyromancer observed everything and mentally promised to be the opposite of his father, to be a good father and really take care of you and his child, not to make the same mistakes in his upbringing that he had. And he kept that promise. You didn't need to wake up every time the baby cried, Bi Han did it for you and only in cases where you needed to feed the child did he wake you up, watching the baby sleep again in your arms while kissing you on the temple, apologizing for having disturbed your sleep — he also took a month's vacation from the Lin Kuei to spend the whole day looking after your child, you could see the dark circles under his eyes getting bigger but he didn't feel obliged to rest for more hours, the feeling of being a father was incredible for him, and he has never been happier in his life.

"I'm fine my pretty boy, our little snowflake fell asleep again and I don't want to wake them up..."

The grand master smiled tiredly as you saw the baby sleeping on his chest and he just let you, closing his eyes rhythmically but returning to waking up at every sign of the baby moving. Overall, 10/10, he's really pleased to have gotten his boyfriend pregnant and have a family to call his.

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