#he had a breakdown or someone made him cry

[inkareds]

I, Carrion - Hozier Daemon Targaryen 5/10 - Unreal Unearth Event

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✧.* word count: 8.8k (long boy) ✧.* genre: angst -> comfort // sfw (but adult themes) ✧.* warnings: slow burn-ish, the reader is female, Otto and Alicent are minor villains, details of sickness (Daemon not reader lmao)

"Leave it now, I am sky-bound // If you need to, darling, lean your weight to me // We'll float away, but if we fall // I only pray, don't fall away from me"

Being the last member of a noble house was difficult, and the fact that you were a woman made it even more difficult. Surprisingly, you've found comfort in the Rogue Prince, and even more surprising when he finds comfort in you. A comfort built on mutual affection and respect, something a certain someone in court feels threatened by

Parts of this story were inspired by The Crucible, you'll know what I mean after you've read the story. Also hiiiii, I'm so happy to be back from my LONG hiatus, I'm feeling a lot better and hopefully will get into the writing groove back!

As always, lyric and story breakdown at the end of the story

Your mother died on the birthing bed, she had fought valiantly, screaming, crying, and clawing at the sheets trying to push you, her firstborn, out. 

When you echoed your first cries, your father came into the room, he held your mother’s hand and wept, the last thing she spoke was a plea to your father to love their daughter and to give it a name she chose. 

Your father honoured this last wish of your mother as she died. 

He raised you with nothing but a doting sort of love but he knew his time was limited. 

The Gods had not been kind to him or your mother, you were their first child in over ten years of marriage and in your birth, you had taken your mother. Because of this, your father found no more reason to remarry. His heart belonged wholly to your mother, he gave everything to her and in return to you, the last thing he has of her. 

Though that meant the extinction of his house once you marry or pass on, he doesn’t seem to mind it. He did fear for you, now ten and eight years of age. 

He feared for what would become of you once he dies, with no more kin to lean on and coming from a house that wasn’t as powerful as most others in your region, he wishes for you to live in content. 

So one day when a raven is sent out to many noble houses in search of a lady-in-waiting for the young Princess Rhaenyra, your father jumped at the opportunity. You were close of age to her and her other lady-in-waiting lady Alicent Hightower, though you were slightly older. He found this to be the perfect opportunity. 

After consolidating with you, he sends you off to King’s Landing with the hopes of interesting the princess enough that you’d become her lady-in-waiting. Much to his joy the princess was taken by you. 

You were straightforward and spoke rather brazenly compared to the other prim and proper ladies. Something Rhaenyra loved.  You quickly wrote to your father about how she told you that you amused her greatly and that she admires your sharp words and quick wit. 

After being chosen as a lady-in-waiting for Princess Rhaenyra, you came home only to retrieve your belongings before moving to live in King’s Landing. Your father had wept in private with you before you left, you were the last thing he had of your mother and though you did not know her, he says that you were quite similar to her. In that way, he felt if he could give you a content life, he’d be giving an extension of her another content life. 

“Promise me you’ll survive there, surrounded by dragons, you have to be strong, my beautiful daughter.” He weeps as he pulls you closer to him. 

Your father was old, older than what most men were when they had their firstborn, and so you knew he didn’t have long left. With what little time the Gods give him, you want to make him proud and happy. 

“I will father, I will keep both you and mother in my heart.” Your father pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“Then promise me you’ll survive no matter what, you’ll live and you shall thrive.” He looks at you with determination shining in his eyes. 

“I swear to you, I will not let those courtly dragons drag me down.” 

With that, you left your home for King’s Landing. 

It wasn’t much different, you weren’t from rigid lands like Dorne or Winterfell, so the weather didn’t bother you much. What did bother you was the social customs that you were expected to adhere to.

 Back home, your house was small but highly respected by the common folk around you as well as the other noble houses around you. Seeing as how in, what most assume, a couple of years you will be the last of your house, the noblemen and women of your lands gave you much more freedom than most women. 

You didn’t butter your words and spoke with an ardent fever when the topic would land on one of the many you were well-educated in. That was another thing you found ridiculous, the only women that were highly educated seemed to be the highest nobles. And those were Lady Alicent and the Princess herself. Those two were the only ones you found you could talk to. 

Whilst the men, as knowledgeable as they were, were rude and distasteful. You had found no comfort in court and found it difficult to hide your sneer any time anyone second-guessed Rhaenyra’s position as a princess and her father’s firstborn. 

The two of you shared a bond unlike any other, you were your father’s firstborn, just as she is. But unlike her, you hold none of the pressures she has from everyone around her to rise above her station while sitting prim and proper as the perfect lady. So she blossoms whenever she speaks to you, in you she sees a different side of the coin she resided in. 

And when her uncle comes to visit, let’s just say, her interest in you grows exponentially. 

“Prince Daemon, it is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance once more.” You curtsied at him when he caught you walking through the garden. 

The roguish prince grinned. 

“Might I ask why my niece’s attendant is roaming around without my niece at sight?” He nears you. 

“Princess Rhaenyra is studying with her Septa, my prince, during her lessons I am not with her.” You explained to him. 

After a few years of attending to Rhaenyra, you have met Daemon repeatedly. You would be lying if you said you didn’t find the prince quite charming, in a sly way. What little conversations you’ve had with him, he’d found humour and entertained your sharp tongue. Not to mention he actually speaks to you when topics of your knowledge come into the conversation. Unlike many of the men here who then go on a tirade about the topic, boasting about their knowledge, completely ignoring any of your statements. 

“May I ask what troubles you?” You ask when you see him observing you. 

"Do you think Rhaenyra is suited for the throne?" 

The sudden serious question caught you off guard. Though you tried to answer as honestly as possible, knowing the Prince would find it more favourable. 

"Of course, I do, she is the king's firstborn, knowledgeable, headstrong, and stubborn. This realm needs a strong leader, not one easily swayed by their court,” you paused, deciding to poke the bear, or in this case, the dragon, “I hope I could trust you not to misconstrued my words and twist them in court, my Prince.” You grinned. 

Daemon chuckled, letting his head fall back ever so slightly as he took a step towards you. 

“Now why would I do that?” 

Your eyes focused on him, “Perhaps to take all of the Princess’ attention? I do see the way you look at her, my Prince. I may not be well-accustomed to the queer traditions of the old Valyrians, but I am not blind. Perhaps you are jealous she’s spending her time with me and wishes to rid of me.” 

Standing in the deserted gardens nestled deep in the Keep, Daemon takes another step closer to you, pressuring you to take a step backwards. Yet you stand your ground, unwilling to let the invisible strings of tension pull you back as he pushes you forward with his noble visage. 

“You are one of the last interesting people in this keep. Dare I say, with a tongue like that and a mind like yours, if you were born a man you’d have been seated somewhere in my brother’s court. But alas, you were born to be the last of your house.” 

At the slight snide comment of your house, all but little of your playfulness dissipated. Of course, you understood the dire situation of your house, but you would be a fool to let its name be tarnished and insulted. 

“Alas, unfortunately so, if that is all you wish to say to me, then I shall take my leave,” you tilted your head upwards before lightly bowing and turning to leave. 

Daemon sighed with a tired smile before reaching out to grab your arm. 

“Are all southerners brass and easily emotional?” He remarks, causing a humourless and graceless fake smile to fill your expression. 

“If I am as emotional as you say I am I wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to roll my eyes at your words. Yet, here I am, still smiling, it seems I’m less emotional than you think I am, Prince Daemon.” You spoke the last words through gritted teeth, clearly showing your sarcasm. 

“As much as I do enjoy our banter, I did come here to talk business, though it seems you had distracted me.” At his statement, your brows furrowed and finally, you turned towards him. Seeing as you don’t seem to walk away, Daemon lets go of your arm. “There are snakes aiming to bite at your ankles, little hound. Keep a watchful eye.” 

Little hound, the nickname that used to make your blood boil as a child. Your house sigil consisted of the body of a bloodhound, standing regal with its head held up high and one paw in the air. It perfectly encapsulated your house’s longstanding history as a loyal and trustworthy house with a mind unlike any other. Your father gave you the nickname when you were younger as you would play with the pups and dogs near the farms. 

Later on, the nickname would catch on through the common folk. Little hound they called you. When Daemon first spoke of it, he spoke as if it was an insult. The little hound, the last of the bloodhounds of your house. 

But now it sounded different. 

“I would watch your back much closer,” he leaned closer to almost whisper to your ear, sending chills down your spine. “I’d hate for my favourite source of entertainment to disappear.” 

As quickly as he got serious, the boyish bravado and ease came back, Daemon pulled away, taking a step backwards to create some space between the two of you. Right before you open your mouth to inquire him about the statement, another voice joins you. 

“There you are, I had been looking everywhere for you.” 

You quickly looked back at the sound of the Princess’s voice. The young Rhaenyra stood there with a smile upon meeting your gaze, though that very smile dropped into a mischievous glint when she saw that Daemon was with you. 

“Uncle, I did not know you had returned from your travels.” Rhaenyra spoke walking towards the both of you. 

“Niece,” he greeted, “I had just arrived in port at midday.” 

Rhaenyra smiled though it looked more like a mischievous grin than anything. “Ah I see, and you had immediately gone to find my lady-in-waiting have you?” 

Ah, the Princess Rhaenyra, ever the lady without a filter covering her mouth. You wanted to grit your teeth and tell her she shouldn’t be saying things so easily, but you knew she’d simply call you a hypocrite. 

“I do enjoy seeing her face every once and a while, niece.” Daemon glanced slightly at you before going back to look at his niece. 

You wanted to roll your eyes at his flirtatious ministrations. 

“Hm, well, if all you wish is to see her face I believe that wish has been granted. Now the lady and I must go.” Rhaenyra took her hand in yours and quickly began pulling you away. 

You heard Daemon chuckle to himself right before you were out of earshot. 

“Do tell me you aren’t trying to bed my uncle.” Rhaenyra spoke, no sense of malice in her words, only humour. 

“By the six, I would never bed a married man, my lady. The Prince is far from my type of men anyways.” At that, Rhaenyra quirks her brows. 

“Do tell. What does a lady such as yourself look for in a suitor? Perhaps it would give me ideas for my own dream suitor.” She rolls her eyes at the last part of her statement. 

Being by her side all the time and seeing her act regal and noble in front of her many subjects, you’ve almost forgotten that she is still a teenage girl. A teenage girl that bored of her mundane life of being looked down upon by the masses. 

“Loyal.” You answered. 

~

Ever since that day in the gardens, you’ve found yourself unable to sleep a lot of nights, your mind being flooded by images of Daemon. His whisper against your ear, his body close to your own. You found yourself needing to take a breather outside now and again. Almost always your body leads you back to the gardens. 

The cooler air of the night comforted you and let go of any images of Daemon you would have. 

Tonight was a tough night to swallow, though not due to the Rogue Prince. Quite the contrary, your mind was filled by your father. Recently you had gotten word that your father had passed in his sleep. 

Old age has caught up with him and following his dying wish, his attendants and his beloved subjects buried him in the heart of the forest behind your old estate. The forest which you and your father had tracked down and killed much game before your stay in the keep. 

In the letter, it detailed that he had died a few days prior from when you’d received the letter and that the funeral procession had ended. The reason you were not told of the funeral procession was due to your father’s other dying wish. He did not wish for you to be burdened by grief or the past. 

He wanted his death to be just another event in your life, nothing major nor anything to bring concern to. Therefore he didn’t want you to travel all the way to your homeland just for his funeral. Something you gritted your teeth over. 

How dare he decide what was best for you?

Now you were alone in this cruel and tainted world. A little hound alone in a den of dragons. How curious. 

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Daemon’s voice behind you was the last thing you expected to hear when you sat down on one of the many marble benches in the secluded garden. He walked towards the bench and sat beside you, watching the same sight. 

A gorgeous splitting tree grew in the middle of the garden and in the dark of the night, its white flowers almost glowed in radiance. It reminded you slightly of the prince’s own white hair. 

“My father died a few fortnights ago,” you didn’t know what compelled you to open your heart to him at that moment. But you did and there was no turning back, “And now there is one.” You whispered into the night.

“You.” Daemon stated, causing you to nod. 

“Yes, me,” a dry chuckle followed after. “What misfortune befell on my mother to have birthed a daughter instead of a son. You were right, my prince, had I been born a man my lineage would continue. Plenty more bloodhounds would be running around my estate and my house would not die out.” 

You didn’t want to show weakness in front of the prince, not after all the work you’ve put in to fit into the social quo of the Keep. Yet, Daemon does not seem to care. 

“I wouldn’t call it much of a misfortune. If you were born a man, I would not have found you half as beautiful.” 

You couldn’t help the scoff that left your lips, any other time a little voice in your head would tell you that your tongue would be cut off if you did that. But now you didn’t quite care. Your house was dead, you were just the final piece. Whether you died or lived, what legacy would you bring?

“What glory it is to be considered beautiful by a married man.” 

Bitter were your words.

“The bronze bitch is dead.” 

At the sudden rashness of his statement, your head whipped in his direction. 

“My prince, apologies I did not know such news has befallen you-”

“Hah!” he laughed, “It is nothing more than good news. My marriage to her was loveless and lacked any sort of mutual respect. No,” he shook his head and turned towards you. 

Both your eyes met and in a single second, you wondered if his violet eyes lit up in the dark much like the red of fire at midnight. You wouldn’t be all that shocked if Targaryens had that power along with the one to bond with dragons, as Daemon seemed to have another power up his sleeve. Enamouring you with his gaze. 

“I came looking for you to ask for your hand.” Your brows quickly furrowed. 

Your daze broke almost immediately. 

“Pardon me, my prince?” 

“I can take you to Dragonstone and wed you there in Old Valyrian customs. You once said you saw the way I looked at Princess Rhaenyra. But it seems you’re blinder than you thought. They weren’t for her,” 

The cogs in your mind twisted and turned. 

“They were for you.” He closed in.

Your breath was caught in your throat the moment he leaned in. Daemon’s lips were harsh against your own, despite the slowness of his approach he did not hold back in kissing you. In a single moment after you reciprocated, his hand was at the back of your neck, pushing you closer and deeper into him. 

Both your eyes closed you could feel lightning striking through both your bodies, as he pulled you closer to him. Though right before your instinct pushed you to open your lips and let his tongue explore, your thoughts crashed into your mind. 

You quickly pushed away and stood up from the marble bench, your chest heaved from the lack of oxygen and the adrenaline. Daemon quickly stood up as well seeing your bewildered expression. 

“Why?” was your only question. 

Why now?

Why me?

Why the haste?

Why-

Too many questions, yet all start with the word why. 

You could see Daemon take a second to mull over his words, when he did figure out a response his hand reached towards your cheek. Lightly caressing it, a stark juxtaposition on how he had just been handling you moments before. 

“Though I debated on asking for your hand after what you had just told me. I leave for Stepstones at dawn. I intend to make you a bride before then, just as I always hoped for many moons now.” He answered truthfully. 

“You intend to fight the crab-feeder with Lord Corlys and his son?” You inquired, to which he nodded, awaiting your reaction. 

You thought to yourself for a second then a soft smile crept into your face. “Then do not make me your wife tonight, make me your friend.” You held onto his hand as you continued. “Fate and death have touched my father. I do not wish for it to touch my husband. Wed me when you win the war, that way you’ll perhaps find something to look forward to when you fight against these warriors.” 

A surprisingly warm smile befell on the Rogue Prince. He held onto your hand tighter and guided you back to sit down on the bench. An air of comfort and warmth blanketed the two of you in the cold desolate air. 

That night, the two of you spent it in those very same gardens, talking to one another. Not a single drop of wine was shared between the two of you and yet your hearts were open. Not in the way of speaking truthfully but in a way much more intimate. As if the two of you could hear what is unspoken and read what was between the lines. 

Both your minds and souls weaved together that very night. Entangling themselves into one another before the sun would rise and the spell would be broken. There was no need for a touch of passion to be shared. The company was all that mattered to the two of you.

Just as you were about to leave your room as the sun had just begun to peak from the horizon, Daemon stopped you. 

A sense of deja vu rushed towards you, the scene of the last time the two of you were in the garden alone replayed in your mind. 

This time no snide remarks were thrown, instead you turned towards him with no malice. 

His hand held onto your wrist as he spoke, “As something to remember me by.” He stated as he procured a dainty bracelet with a gorgeous red ruby in the middle, he held your wrist and clipped it on. 

“Valyrian steel, it shouldn’t tarnish nor break.” 

Speechless, you spoke only what was in your heart. “Come back to me after the war ends and you’ve had your fill of adventure.”

The two of you shared one last kiss before you turned to leave. 

~

The many months after went on as usual. Your friendship with Rhaenyra grew even stronger the moment she saw the Valyrian steel bracelet, immediately knowing it had to be from Daemon. She had been delighted to know of your and Daemon’s plans once he wins the war in the Stepstones. She yearns to have a true friend permanently within the court. Especially after Alicent’s marriage to her father. 

Unfortunately, it was also due to that event that your relationship with Alicent slowly tarnished itself. 

It seemed not only Rhaenyra realised the source of the bracelet you now wore every day. Otto Hightower was one of the many who had his suspicions. Whether you were another one of Daemon’s whores or if the rumours are true and you plan on wedding him. Otto knew you’d be a formidable opponent in his wishes for Aegon to be the king, for his blood to belong on the throne. 

So he pulls Alicent away from you, to make what he was about to do easier. 

One day a guard had called you over during one of your few alone times, seeing as Rhaenyra was with her Septa. The guard informed you that you have been called to trial under the eyes of King Viserys and the Seven. You didn’t know what was happening, but you weren’t a fool to not comply. 

Daemon’s words echoed through your head the longer the walk took from your bed chambers to the small council’s room. 

“There are snakes aiming to bite at your ankles, little hound. Keep a watchful eye.”

When you arrived at the small council meeting your worst fears were made into fruition. Inside the room was the whole small council including Alicent, which meant a good majority of them were people who didn’t like you. 

Sir Harold called your name as you kept your eyes trained in front of you. 

“You are trialled under the eye of King Viserys the first of his name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and under the watchful eye of the Seven. You are accused of dark witchcraft and conspiracy against the crown. How do you plead to these accusations.”

The suddenness of everything stunned you. Your brows furrowed and your eyes widened as your gaze flickered towards Alicent. She refused to look in your direction and so you immediately turned towards Otto, he was staring dead into your figure. 

“Excuse me?” you finally croaked out, “My King, I assure you I have never done witchcraft in my life and I would never plot against the crown. My father died to put me here, I would never do anything that would harm my house’s name as the last living member of it.” You practically rambled feeling panic begin to bubble up against your throat. 

There was a great silence in the room as you looked towards King Viserys. Despite being his daughter’s closest confidant, you didn’t have much interaction with the King himself, always so busy being pulled away by Otto. Realising the situation you found yourself in, you took in a deep shaky breath, swallowing the panic down as you gazed forward. 

“I plead not guilty.” You needed to regain your composure, all you had to do was convince Viserys, which shouldn’t be too hard. 

“I apologise for the formalities, I find this rather unimportant considering half of the things going on at this moment.” Viserys suddenly speaks with a sigh. “It’s clear my daughter’s lady-in-waiting is not a witch, now could we move on?” 

“I understand why you might be fooled by her, my king, but as my daughter come forth she will show you undoubtable proof.”

With a sigh, Viserys nodded towards the young Alicent’s direction. Alicent walked with bated breath towards the table without a single glance in your direction. 

Like clockwork, she placed a small doll made out of some scrap fabric roughly in the shape of a human proportion. However when she placed it down on the table the doll slightly tumbled forward and revealed its front. 

Though there was stitching in the middle of the abdomen, it’s clear that someone had ripped parts of the stitching open, revealing the inside of the doll. Sheep wool mixed with hair, human hair in the same wool’s colour was stuffed within the doll. 

This was no normal hair, it was Targaryen hair. 

This was no doll or toy, it was a poppet. 

“I had saw the increasing distance between the Princess Rhaenyra with my daughter after your marriage, my king, so I sent my daughter to reconcile with the princess. As the princess is usually seen with her lady-in-waiting, I sent Alicent to her room first. She returned to me in haste and panic, she had found a poppet under the lady’s carpet. A witch’s poppet, no doubt used to forsake you and your future male heir, my king.” 

“Lies!” You quickly yelled out, causing the entire room to look at you. “I have never seen that poppet in my life!” 

Seeing the way Viserys scrutinizes you underneath his gaze, panic bubbled up. Your eyes were blown wide you took a hurried step closer towards the council’s table. In a surprising response, the guards beside Viserys pulled out their swords. The blade aimed towards you. Your heart stopped in your chest. 

“Stay where you are, witch.” Otto stated, looking around and seeing no one on your side you took a few steps backwards, going back to your previous position. 

“Apologies for my outburst, your highness. But I can assure you, I’ve been framed. I’ve never seen a poppet in my life. I do not even know how to create one. My teachings are well documented by my septa from my homeland, if you wish to know of my good nature, ask my people. They know I would never forsake the throne.” You tried explaining yourself. 

Viserys gritted his teeth as he reached out towards the poppet. Silence enveloped the room as people awaited his response. Using his fingers, Viserys pried the front open even more, and there he pulled one of the hair strands. It was long, longer than his hair. He recognised it as Rhaenyra’s. A gasp left you at the sight of it. 

“This,” he glared at you, waving the poppet in the air, “This is blasphemy and conspiracy not only towards me but my daughter. You think I’d believe the words of a witch?” 

“My king, please! I beg of you to believe me.” Ignoring all kinds of shame you dropped to your knees, urgency clawing at you. “I have been in the Princess’ service for a very long time. I see her as my closest friend, I would never do anything to harm her. If you must doubt my character, do not doubt the maids who clean and tend to my quarters. Surely they should’ve found it had I kept a poppet of the princess this entire time?!” 

You tried reasoning with the king, even going so low as begging him. You didn’t know what to do. You knew what was happening, Otto Hightower. That reptile amongst dragons wanted to rid of you. But if you were to accuse him of treason, then your case would not stand. As it stands, Viserys trusted him more than you. 

Viserys stayed silent, as did the court. No one spoke to defend you, no one spoke to scrutinize you. Because the end was clear. The king looked at you with contempt.

“Please.” You made a final plea. 

“For your crimes, I would sentence you to an execution.” You wanted to scream but your pride wouldn’t let you. “But I appreciate and take account of the many years you have spent under the servitude of my daughter. For that, I sentence you to banishment. Leave Westeros at the first boat towards Essos. I’ll allow a single bag of your belongings to carry with you. What you do then will not be of any concern to me. Leave.”

~

What followed after came in quick succession. 

First, all your pleas and desperation dissipated. In its place was hot, flaming anger. Any and all niceties disappeared from you as you walked out of the room with a glare. 

Second, your maids were standing waiting for you in your room. Their heads bowed low as they try not to look into your eyes. They know the charges were false, they know you were framed. But they also knew they could not do anything, so you sighed silently and packed what was necessary. 

Your father had you taught all the necessary things a lady needed to know. How to sew, how to weave, how to speak, and how to enamour. But he had also taught you all the necessary things a lord needed to know. 

With no one else to lend down his knowledge, it was all for you. He taught you how to hunt, how to build a fire, how to fight, and most of all, how to survive. 

Third, you were sent off in a boat to Essos to Gods knows where. With only Alicent and Otto to watch and make sure you were truly leaving, your princess on the other side of Westeros finding suitors, and the man you love fighting in a war– you swore to yourself. 

You will survive. 

~

Daemon returned not a moon cycle after your banishment. Surprising everyone, Rhaenyra came minutes after Caraxes landed in the dragon pit. She had ended her tour early and Daemon had won the war. It was both a momentous and a frustrating day for Viserys. 

The war in the Stepstones was won and Daemon had bowed to him in front of his entire court. That very event warranted a celebration. 

Almost immediately the kitchens bustled to life, the servants prepared delicacies and parties. 

As Viserys laughed at stories from both his and his brother’s youth, Daemon could not help but let his eyes wander. He had known of Rhaenyra’s tour in search of a suitor. He had also known you had not gone with her for reasons unknown. So he had expected you to be here now to celebrate his win. 

He had planned on whisking you away in the night like that day he swore himself to you, bringing you to Dragonstone, and finally wed you, just as he promised.

Yet, you were nowhere to be found. 

When Daemon found out about your banishment, the Keep found out how irrational the Rogue Prince could be. Not a moment later, he mounted Caraxes and left King’s Landing for Essos, leaving behind an array of shouts and arguments with both his brother and the King’s hand. 

Rhaenyra didn’t take it any less lightly either. Though she could not simply fly off to a distant continent, she made sure her distaste and anger were felt across the estate. Any and all attempts of Alicent to speak to her were all brushed away harsher and colder than last time. In a bout of rebellion, the princess halted speaking with her father for a long period of time. 

But just as time continues to move on, so do people. After many soldiers and men were sent off to Essos to look for Daemon, the Rogue Prince finally returned. Muck and dirt stuck to his body like skin. From his eyes, everyone knew not to set him off. 

The prince wreaked havoc with his gold cloaks not long after. Loyal only to him, the soldiers became increasingly harsher in their punishments, all at his order.

Viserys never knew true anger as when he had thought Daemon had had his fill of violence and asked him to marry Laena Velaryon, to strengthen ties between house Velaryon and Targaryen. 

The lady was a friend of his, just as Rhaenyra is. But the anger that overtook Daemon at the mere idea of his brother banishing the woman he loved, only to send him away once more to marry someone else burned within him. 

Arguments, insults, and threats were poured upon them like wine on a wedding night. The keep did not know peace for a long time after that. 

However what did end up happening was that Laena Velaryon married another nobleman, and from her came Baela and Rhaena. Daemon would stay in Driftmark with Laena, all to cause gossip and havoc within King’s Landing and to cause even more of a headache to his brother. 

There he witnessed her husband’s untimely death due to an accident and her own during childbirth. He saw the way Laena’s body burned up in flames, leaving both Rhaena and Baela alone in the world. Just like that, he has lost another friend. 

In a single moment, he had thought about you. To the last night, he saw you. The two of you basking in the moonlight as you told him about your mother. Her untimely death. Seeing the way it tore you apart, he took it upon himself to take the two girls as wards of his family. He raised them as if they were his own. A part of him wondered what you’d think of him if he saw you. How he wished sometimes as he looked into the eyes of Baela and Rhaena after he comforted them of their mother’s death, that he was looking into the eyes of your daughters. The daughters he could imagine himself having with you. 

Would they have his platinum hair or would they have yours? Perhaps your eyes, though purple would look gorgeous. At night when he slumbers, he imagines and dreams about them. 

Children of his own with you. Be it two daughters like Laenas or three sons like Rhaenyra. He imagines them with your smile and mind, soft, comforting, but sharp and precise. From him, he hoped they’d have his tenacity, his edge for battle, his stubbornness, and perhaps his love for their mother as well. 

But when the sun rises and he wakes, they stay in his dreams. Forever missing.

Perhaps it was bitterness, perhaps it was anger, or perhaps it was something as simple as pettiness. But he knew the whole reason he pushed Rhaenyra for the war was because he urged for revenge. 

Then when that day came, the day when the Gods cried and thunder ripped through the sky, he held too many regrets as he leapt from Caraxes and plunged Dark Sister deep into his niece’s good eye. 

The battle above God’s Eye was a brutal one. 

Vhagar, a war dragon in her own right, yet slow from age, against Caraxes, the blood wyrm, the only dragon which can match Daemon’s bloodlust and anger, but always blinded by his rider’s emotions. 

Then Daemon, the Rogue Prince, fuelled by pure rage and revenge which boiled within him for years before his opponent was even born, against Aemond, the one-eyed-prince, who knows nothing but the desperate and filthy feeling of wanting to make good of his name. 

Their fight raged for what seemed like forever. 

The sky cracked and burned with lightning and rain. As Caraxes barely weaved through Vhagar’s piercing jaw, Daemon angrily yelled out. He could see no way he would win this, but he would be damned and let Alicent win. He’ll have to take down both Aemond and Vhagar, even if it costs him his life. 

Just as Aemond yells out commands to Vhagar, trying desperately to steer her, Daemon prepares his final attack. And when Vhagar’s jagged and sharp teeth finally sank their might into Caraxes’ wings, Daemon leapt. 

Aemond’s one good eye widened in fear as he struggled with the many straps that bound him to the queen of dragons. He could not get away. 

Daemon rained down on Aemond’s one good eye like the Gods’ judgement. Plunging dark sister deep into his skull, whilst Caraxes’ neck sprawled to bite Vhagar’s neck. 

The four of them fell to the raging sea like Gods. Kin killing kin, dragon killing dragon. Blood dyed the sea red that night. Daemon could only hope you would forgive him for his abandonment in the afterlife. 

Had he known that was the last night he’d ever seen you, perhaps he would’ve never gone to the Stepstones. 

So as saltwater fills his lungs and burns his eyes, he relinquishes himself to death. 

~

Deer fur has never been the softest, it’s short, stubbly, and quite harsh on the skin. But it is one of the best to bed with when winter comes. Due to this, a layer of sheep fur is always useful when placed atop of deer fur when one wants to sleep. The softness of the sheep perfectly balances the warmth of the deer.

Warmth, comfort, and the plushness of sheep fur atop deer fur greeted Daemon when he roused. 

He had thought the afterlife would be warmer and brighter. 

When he opens his eyes, the only thing he can see is a haphazardly made wooden roof, dimly lit by very few candles. One of those candles was beside him, giving off some warmth to the side of his face. 

His eyes squinted as they tried to adjust to the dim lighting. When he finds that he can’t he tries to move his limbs. Surely if he was dead then his injuries would amount to nothing. 

That assumption couldn’t have been more wrong as the moment he tried to sit up using his elbows, pain travelled through his entire body more painful than anything else he’d ever imagined. Causing him to collapse back onto the fur-lined bed. 

He groaned loudly as his senses jolted awake from the pain stabbed within him. Was the afterlife truly this ruthless that it asks him to feel his injuries though dead? 

His mind feels muddled as if a haze is crossing his eyes. His vision blurs and returns at random intervals and he feels sick. He knows he has a fever. Daemon feels the heat on his skin, despite the coolness of the air around him. 

Once more, he tries to move. This time to do a much less taxing task than the one prior. He tries to move some of the animal pelts around him, lessen the heat surrounding him. 

But when he lifts his arm to try, the door to the measly home opens with a shuddering sound. 

“Gods, you’re awake!” he hears a voice, though it rings in his head and he can barely make out the words.

Had his head not been spinning and pounding against his entire being, he would’ve looked to his left to see who it was. 

“Oh no, please stay still. Your injuries are grave and you’ve suffered so much frost.” The voice returns again albeit he still can’t make out the owner of the voice nor the words they speak. 

The figure, hazy in colour and shape runs towards him as they fix back his pelts to cover his body. He realises then that he isn’t clothed. He groans when they accidentally place very light pressure on one of his bruises. 

“I’m sorry,” they whisper, running towards a table somewhere in the room. 

When they return they hold a bowl of viscous liquid. 

“Drink it, it’ll help with the drowsiness and the pain.” They speak softly and very slowly. 

Though he doesn’t fully comprehend the words, Daemon is too far in his injuries to resist any kind of medicine. The bowl was brought onto his lips and he slowly drinks the viscous and bitter liquid. It burns his throat and tastes disgusting. He almost gags at the feeling of it running down his mouth. 

When he finishes the bowl, the figure places it aside and comes back to his bedside. 

Slowly, his ragged breathing returns to normal as his head stops its terrible spinning. The fatigue and pain of his muscles and bruises were still there but the burn of them lessened. 

When he can feel his throat and mouth again, he trusts himself to speak. 

“Who are you?” he whispers. 

The figure’s face expresses something, their mouth moves to emote but his vision is still too blurry to know what they are doing. 

“I’ll answer your questions once you’ve fully come to yourself. Rest for now, my prince.” 

They reach out to brush a strand of his hair that stuck to his sweat-lined forehead. In the corner of his eye, before he succumbs to sleep once more, he sees a silver bracelet. He does not know why he feels safe enough to sleep. But his mind wills him to and his body is too tired to care. 

~

In the days that followed, Daemon comes in and out of consciousness. Every time with blurry vision and a pounding headache. The figure aides to him as best as they can, he remembers them replacing the cold rag on his forehead every now and again. Feed him water and broth, anything liquid enough for him to drink and not have to chew. 

On the 1st full moon since his first rouse, he wakes long enough to focus on his vision. The figure wasn’t there, wherever they may be, Daemon was glad for the small moment of respite. It gave him time to think about what had happened. 

The fight above God’s Eye. Vhagar struck after Caraxes. His blade embedded itself in his niece. Then his fall. How he has survived so far was beyond him. A part of him wishes he was dead. Let the cold water fill his lungs again, let the salt burn against his eyes, let it stop his heart. Let him meet the one he loved. 

But no, it seemed the Gods had cursed him with a life longer than he neither wanted nor deserved. 

The figure didn’t come back for at least another hour, since then Daemon has found strength within himself to move his limbs lightly without much pain. His body ached from the lack of movement but that wasn’t the thing he was focused on. 

With much rest and nutritious broth, the strength in his mind had returned. With it came his clear vision. Clear enough to see the woman who walked through the haphazardly created wooden door, carrying two hares. 

Her clothes were ragged, her hair a mess, her skin muddied with dirt and God knows what else from the hunt. Her riding gear was old and tattered, barely holding onto dear life. But he’d still recognise her even if her body was covered with scars and burns. It was you. 

Daemon was confident he looked like a buck who’d just realised a quiver was pointed at it with the way he was looking at you. Eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed. His eyes focused on you as you huffed your way across this simple home of yours. 

Pulling off your shoes and discarding all your gear before grabbing a knife to skin the hares. You hadn’t realised Daemon was awake, he was far too quiet for that. It gave time for Daemon to wonder if he died during his sleep or if you were truly real. 

It wasn’t until you’d finished skinning and butchering the hare, placing the skin and organs away for something else and clearing the blood and butchered pieces away that you noticed he was awake. At first, your reaction had been shock, your eyebrows rose and your mouth went slightly agape at the intensity of Daemon’s stare. 

But then it softened, and a smile crept its way onto your face. You sighed and placed down your dirty and bloody rag, walking over towards him as his eyes followed you. Your hand, now clean, went over to push away some strands of his hair. Then his eyes caught onto the bracelet once more. 

It was you, truly you. You with the valyrian steel bracelet he gave to you so many years ago. 

In the choking intensity, Daemon whispered your name once. Like how a devoted disciple would towards his most forgiving of Gods. 

“Yes, my love?” You whispered, equally as quiet and reverent. 

Daemon choked. 

Emotions and years upon years of longing and yearning crawled their way from his heart all the way to his mind a mouth. Rendering him speechless. 

“Welcome back, my love.” You repeat, leaning down to press a soft kiss on his forehead. 

Not much was done afterwards, though Daemon’s body still pulled him to rest, he tried with all his might to stay awake. Afraid that if he closed his eyes you’d disappear. 

But with a soft voice, you coaxed him back to rest. Promising to speak to him once he heals. That was the only thing which allowed him to go back to a peaceful rest. 

~

The next time he awoke, it wasn’t a peaceful rouse. Quite the opposite. A loud shrill sound echoed through the house, it shook the windows and burst through the walls. He knew that sound. Caraxes. 

With little to no care for his own well-being, Daemon sprung upwards, since he first woke he’d been clothed. Though it was just a simple and thin shirt and pants to cover himself up but not overheat him in case of a fever. 

He winced slightly over the sudden action but the sound of Caraxes led him towards the exit. Clutching his side he lightly limped towards the door and struggled to open it. 

“Lykiri Caraxes! Lykiri! Daemon is alright, he’s healing!” 

You were in front of the blood wyrm, standing between the large dragon and your measly home. What bravery you held to stand your grown though he could tell the way you shivered you were just as terrified as many at the sight of the dragon. 

Caraxes had severe scars all throughout his body, many were closed off, but he could see some marks on his wing and leg which had been expertly dressed with soft leaves. Have you been caring for Caraxes as well?

His thoughts were cut off when Caraxes let out another shrill cry, his head lowering to be at the same level as your much smaller form. 

“Lykiri Caraxes,” though he could barely speak above his normal tone, both you and Caraxes heard him quite clearly. 

At the sight of his rider, somewhat healthy and standing, Caraxes let out another shrill cry. Though you swear this one sounded much higher pitched. All before he himself also lightly limped away and slumped to the ground not so far away from your fireplace. 

“Daemon,” you spoke before rushing towards him to support him. “You shouldn’t be walking around yet!” 

At the sudden reprimand, he laughed, “And let you be eaten by Caraxes?” 

You huffed, “He wouldn’t, I’ve been tending him for far too long.” You took a nervous glance towards the beast, “At least I hope he wouldn’t.”

“He wouldn’t.” Daemon states, leaning his head towards your own. Treasuring the feeling of your body against his. “How?” The question hangs heavy in the air. 

“Well he’s been unconscious far longer than you have so it was easy to try and patch by his wounds. My only fear was if he didn’t wake up he wouldn’t be able to eat anything, so every now and again I’d leave dead sheep around him in case he wakes up so he could immediately eat. But for the dressing, I don’t have enough cloth to bandage or do anything so I used soft leaves. It’s what I used when I first got here so I thought it’d be al-”

Though you misunderstand the question, Daemon can’t help but feel amused by your lack of hesitancy in speaking. He wouldn’t expect you to go on a tangent like you do now back when the two of you were still in King’s Landing. Years before the war. 

“I mean, how are you alive,” he questions after silence over his laughter cutting you off. 

At the question, the mood thickens. 

“Let’s talk inside.” 

You supported Daemon as he staggered inside the small house. Sitting him down lightly over the makeshift bed you’ve been able to make with cloth, feathers, and several different kinds of pelts. 

There when the two of you got comfortable you handed him a drinking bowl of warm tea as you sipped on your own. Only after the two of you finished both your tea did you start. 

You told him about your banishment, and how Alicent and Otto Hightower framed you for witchcraft and conspiring against the crown. How it was only due to your connection with Rhaenyra that you were able to miss the death sentence. Then you told him about your life in banishment. Essos hadn’t been too bad.��

Of course, it took a lot to learn new skills and put them to work. But there were a surprising amount of kind people in the area, especially the worshipers and monks. They taught you how to survive, but you couldn’t leech off of their kindness forever. 

So with what little gold you had from working odd jobs here and there, you left for a stranded area. With what survival skills you’d learn you had slowly built a home for yourself. The beach was what brought Daemon and Caraxes to you. Caraxes had been bloodied and mangled. Yet he desperately held Daemon in his claws as he dragged Daemon’s body across the sand. 

It was only when he saw you that he collapsed, leaving both the large dragon and his rider to your care. For the past month, you had been making the trip from your home to the beach to care for both Daemon and Caraxes. 

Only today did Caraxes find it in himself to wake and fly, though barely. It was when Caraxes landed on your home did Daemon woke up. 

That brought you to that very moment. 

After you finished, there was a great silence between the two of you. 

Daemon was the first to break it. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Daemon Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone, the Rogue Prince, the red wyrm’s rider, amongst his many titles and nicknames, seldom apologised. But with nothing else to his name or on his tongue at this very moment, he thought of the only thing he could say, an apology. 

You smiled, casting your gaze to your hands, sheepishly shying away from his intense look as you thought of how to answer him. 

“What do you have to apologise for, Daemon?”

His name fell like honey off your tongue, like a choir of songbirds, like the sweetest of fruits from Highgarden. The simple act of it threatened to bring tears to his eyes. How long he had waited for that? For you, to say his name one more time. 

He remembered the last time he’d prayed to the gods in his adulthood. It was when he first heard of your banishment. Atop of Caraxes, the beast felt Daemon’s fear and anger clutch against his heart as the red beast ripped through clouds and skies trying to look for any semblance of you. Daemon prayed then. Prayed to find you, prayed to hear you, prayed to see you. 

Anything. 

No gods heard his plead that night and so he stopped. 

But now it felt like every wish he had ever spoken had come true.

There were no words left to speak. Only actions. 

Careful and dainty actions, considering Daemon’s physical state. Your lips pressed and moulded against one another. Letting years upon years of pent-up yearning and hopes spill through a single act. 

Your heart soared, here was the man you loved, finally in your bed. No more words were spoken that night. Only sighs and soft moans of pleasure and contentment were heard throughout the lone and simple house. 

As the two of you lay in one another’s company, new hopes soared between the two of you. And Daemon promises one last thing, a promise he intends to fulfil this time. 

The promise of bringing you back home to Dragonstone once Caraxes and he can.

Why Daemon? “Once I had wondered what was holding’ up the ground // But I can see that all along, love, it was you all the way down // Leave it now, I am sky-bound // If you need to, darling, lean your weight to me // We’ll gloat away, but if we fall // I only pray, don’t fall away from me.” The song references to Icarus and Deadalus, the myth speaks about the Greek value of moderation. Icarus falls because he is so enchanted by his godly visage and his lightness that he’s enchanted by the sun and the wax melts. Hozier talks about an all encompassing feeling of falling in love that encompasses your being so much so that you’d do anything for your love. In more ways than one, both the Reader and Daemon have fallen from grace due to their love for one another. It’s the godly pull they have with each other that leads to Reader’s banishment and Daemon’s belief that she’s dead. The song inspires the last and first part of Daemon and Reader’s romance story, they lean on one another in more ways than one. Reader becomes Daemon’s friend, a true and honest friend built on mutual respect and affection. Whilst Daemon becomes Reader’s confidant, someone to go for comfort and source of joy. By the end of the story, neither thinks about the past, Daemon doesn’t care about the way the Reader has been living and Reader doesn’t care too much about why Daemon and Caraxes’ so injured. The two of them just cares for each other that nothing else matters and I think that’s so fucking sweet. 

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #daemon targaryen x you #daemon x you #daemon #daemon fluff #daemon angst #daemon targaryen angst

[and-bone-appetit]

yoo how about palette 21 with dream :D

Dream w/ #21! Thx for the request! :3

Another challenging palette! Wanted to draw Dream sad cuz the colors gave me those vibes, so have some angst (WHAT HAPPENED DREAM-)

Dream belongs to Jokublog

#my art #andboneappetit #art challenge #palette challenge #undertale #undertale au #utmv #dreamtale #sans #dream #dream sans #dream!sans #he had a breakdown or someone made him cry #that's up your interpretation

[werewolfbneimitzvah]

vent post. There are two stories i was told in my teenage years that even before i had a real concept of trans issues made me uninterested in discussing the supposed sacredness and safety of separated sex-based spaces.

First, when i was like 13 or 14 my PE teacher told us about a time she went to a women's public restroom, some guy was hanging out outside the bathrooms, she didn't think anything of it, went to the bathroom, and he walked in after her and like, creeped on her over the top of the stall. She was ok, she wasn't telling us this to scare us, just telling us what to do in situations like that (and iirc she was telling the whole co-ed class this, not just girls, bc it's useful for everyone), but this taught me immediately and forever that there's nothing actually keeping these spaces separate really, that anyone can be a creep in any space, and that establishing a space like that as for women only isn't actually particularly useful for safety.

Second, when i was 16 i was at an anime convention, a friendly acquaintance of mine and i ended up in conversation outside, and he showed me his bare wrist and told me he'd been kicked out. A female friend of his had stepped in dog poop outside, and between that and the stress of the convention she'd had a bit of an emotional breakdown, so being her friend, he started comforting her and ushered her into the women's restroom so they could wash the poop off her shoe together. And because he was a man who went into the women's bathroom, he got kicked out, no matter that he was doing something that was actually beneficial to a woman. Punishing a woman's friend for supporting her was supposed to... protect her somehow? This made it clear to me that a no-exceptions rule separating the sexes like that wasn't actually inherently good for everyone.

And this isn't even getting into me as a child needing to accompany my younger sister to the restroom when we were out with just my dad because she had certain support needs past the age he felt comfortable bringing her into the men's room with him. And what if I'd been born a boy, or she'd been the first born? Who's helping her then?

And of course even putting all this aside, we should always prioritize compassion and support anyway. But i never even needed to meet a trans person to know that "keeping men out of women's bathrooms" is silly nonsense. But trans people also need to pee anyway and as humans they have that right, so leave them the fuck alone. your precious women's restroom is just a fucking room with a door, holy shit give it a fucking rest, if someone is attacking you in the bathroom that's bad and if someone is in there to pee that's good and it doesn't fucking matter what their junk is or was when they were born.

a woman could have done the exact same thing to my PE teacher and it would have also been bad no matter how "supposed" to be in the restroom she was, and no one should ever be punished for helping a crying friend wash their shoe.

Anyway i know I'm speaking to like-minded folks here, i just think about those two stories literally every time bathroom gender shit comes up and it pisses me off.

[asimpforyagami]

🇨​​ 🇴 ​​🇴​​ 🇰​​ 🇮 ​​🇪​​ 🇸​ !

BSD MEN REACT TO YOU BAKING COOKIES FOR THEM AFTER A BAD DAY.

↷ A/N ─ we hit 5k+ notes !! im so happy :D there's gonna be an event which im gonna talk about at the end of this. enjoy and please leave likes and reblogs :)

★ FT. ─ dazai , chuuya , ranpo , akutagawa

!! TAGS ─ fluff, pure fluff, hurt/comfort, angst

"i know you had a bad day, so i made you cookies"

ᴅᴀᴢᴀɪ.

It wasn't abnormal for someone like you to see Dazai cry. Nevertheless, it'd make him feel embarrassed, even pathetic for showing his emotions to you in such a way. And somewhere in his mind, he could see the faint looks of pity on your face every time he broke down, eyes glossy as he'd remember his old days at the Port Mafia with his perfect little friend group.

He was Osamu Dazai. He had experienced pain, loss, a few fleeting moments of joy, and so much. He had been through a lot. He did not need anyone's sympathy - even yours.

This day was, hence, nothing out of the ordinary. Dazai had trudged back home with heavy steps, dismissing your questions about his whereabouts and remarks about how drenched he got in the rain.

He had gone straight into the bathroom and locked himself in. It didn't matter how many years had passed since Oda's death. It would always feel like yesterday to him, so close yet so far away. It would always rip his heart out how if he had been there just a few moments earlier, he could never have had to watch his only friend die.

He sank to his knees near the wash basin and cried.

---

There was a knock on the door. Dazai scrambled to his feet to open it. He was in the bedroom after another breakdown, locked away.

"Dazai?" he heard your soft voice from outside the door. His heart warmed up a little and he opened the door.

"I know you had a bad day," you said, holding out a plate of freshly baked cookies, "so I baked you cookies."

Dazai looked down at the plate for a moment, then looked back up at you. He felt numb. He felt disoriented. Slowly, he reached out to break one cookie with his fingers and ate it.

"This... this is amazing," he said quietly, tears blurring his vision, threatening to break him down once more.

"It's not much. They're only chocolate chip," you waved a hand off. "Do you like them?"

"Yeah," he replied in a breathy voice. "Yeah, I do."

His ruined day had been perfected by a mere batch of cookies. As you urged him to have more, he finally smiled.

How could someone be so kind?

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ᴄʜᴜᴜʏᴀ.

Chuuya was no stranger to drinking and passing out on his couch only to be woken up by you late at night so that he could come to the bed and sleep comfortably there. He felt pathetic for using wine and alcohol as a means of coping with loneliness, especially after Dazai left the Port Mafia.

"Chuuya?" you whispered softly in his ear.

He stirred in his sleep, one hand hanging off the couch while empty bottles crowded on the floor.

"Chuuya."

His eyelids fluttered open, and with a groan, he shifted on the couch, his hand instinctively reaching for the bottle that lay within arm's reach.

But before he could grasp it, you gripped his hand gently.

"No," you said firmly.

He paused to look at you before rubbing his eyes with his other hand and sitting up.

"I baked you cookies," you murmured, sitting on the couch beside him.

It was only then that Chuuya noticed his favourite cookies decorating a plate that sat on the table in front of him. You leaned forward to grab two cookies, shoving one in your mouth and the other in his.

With his mouth stuffed with a cookie, he couldn't help but stare at you as the events of the entire day crashed onto him all at once. A tear slipped from his eye - of joy, admiration or sadness, he did not know. But as he stared lovingly at the way you playfully scolded him for not including you in the drinking session, your voice muffled from the food, there was only one thought that crossed his mind.

How could he ever be stupid enough to believe that he was lonely when he had you?

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ʀᴀɴᴘᴏ.

Ranpo was not the type to cry in front of people. With his child-like confidence, very few people had ever actually seen him in a vulnerable state.

So it was distressing when he realized you saw right through his fake smile. He felt like an idiot for not predicting that you would get to know about how upset he was after the President scolded him.

He lay on his bed. Even thinking was too tiring for him right now. His hair was all over his face, his head pressed against his pillow. There was a knock on the door, and he spoke in a quiet voice, "Come in."

You entered with a plate of cookies. They were shaped like little stars, each with a different flavour and colour. You set the plate next to the nightstand and gave him a soft smile.

"I know you had a bad day, so I baked you cookies."

"You... you did?" he whispered, his voice cracking as he slowly sat upright to look at you in the eyes.

"I tried. I don't know how they taste. I wanted you to be the first one to take a bite."

He nodded and you sat down on the floor, looking up at him and putting a cookie in his mouth gently. Ranpo opened his mouth and felt the savoury taste of your baking.

"I like it," he hummed.

"Really? Do you want me to make some more for you tomorrow?"

"You will?" his face brightened up genuinely. "I love you!"

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ᴀᴋᴜᴛᴀɢᴀᴡᴀ.

Akutagawa was one to hide emotions from everyone. He did not like to let others think of him as human, but rather as a creature to be feared, and someone to be proud of to Dazai.

Since the night Dazai had been abducted and Akutagawa had interrogated him, the latter had been quiet. He was never to talk too much or overshare, but it could be sensed that something had hurt him deeply.

"Ryuu?" you said softly sitting down next to him.

"No," he looked away, shunning you out before you even got the chance to speak.

"I know you had a bad day," you smiled softly, "so I baked you cookies."

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye before his heart melted. You had the most beautiful look on your face, two hands supporting a plate of cookies. He had never told you what his favourite ones were, frankly he couldn't decide. Sweet things just weren't for him.

But these ones, the ones that you made just for him? These were his favourites. The ones you had made that showed how much you understood him.

At that point, he realized he did not have to change himself to gain the approval he desired in the past. He had already won in life the moment he met you.

.

.

.

.

.

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🇹​​ 🇭 ​​🇦​​ 🇳​​ 🇰​ ​🇾 ​​🇴​​ 🇺 ​ ​🇫​​ 🇴​​ 🇷​ 5 ​🇰​ ​🇳 ​​🇴 ​​🇹​​ 🇪 ​​🇸 !

HERE IS THE PROMPT LIST FOR THE EVENT.

WE DID IT AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHSHRFEEKFHKNFAKN

THE WAY I SCREAMED ILYYY TYSM FOR THIS IM SO HAPPY :D

so OBVIOUSLY there should be an event 🤭 because as I've said multiple times i love spoiling yall

again, the prompt list for the event is here. all you have to do is ask for a scenario + character and i'll write it out :)

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#bsd x reader #bsd x y/n #bsd x you #bsd scenarios #bsd hcs #bsd headcanons #dazai hcs #dazai x y/n #dazai x reader #chuuya imagines #chuuya x reader #fyodor hcs #fyodor x you #fyodor x reader #akutagawa hcs #akutagawa x reader #chuuya headcanons #dazai headcanons #dazai x you #fyodor imagines #atsushi hcs #atsushi nakajima #atsushi x reader #dazai bsd #bungou stray dogs ranpo #poe x reader #nikolai gogol #nikolai x reader #nikolai headcanons #bsd sigma

[reiding-writing]

hello!!!! could i get a continuation fic for "breaking the ice"? this time it could be like after a hard case and reader actively seeks out spencer for comfort (CONGRATS ON 1K FOLLOWERS!!! <33)

BREAKING DOWN [CLIMACTERIC]

/ˈbreɪ.kɪŋ daʊn/

spencer just wants to be there for you when you need him, but you get overwhelmed by his constant worrying and push him away, only to crawl right back into his embrace when you really need it.

WARNINGS: fem!reader, reader is mean to spencer in the beginning but apologises later, child death, guilt, reader having an emotional breakdown, angst to hurt/comfort

spencer x cold!reader | hurt/comfort | 2.4k | climacteric event

a/n: hit two birds with one stone for this one, god sometimes i forget how much i like writing characters suffering man-

this fic is a continuation of ‘breaking the ice’, but can be read as a stand alone!

main masterlist!! ⋆｡°✩ cold!reader masterlist!!

climacteric event masterlist!!

You felt like an idiot the first time Spencer caught you crying, failing to compose yourself in the office bathroom for no good reason and looking like an absolute wreck because your brain had just decided it wanted to ruin your day.

There’d been a few times since then when he’d caught you on the brink of a breakdown, but you’d masked them better the more he tried to look into your psyche.

“It’s okay not to be okay sometimes,” He said those few months ago. “I’m here for you, whatever you need.”

That was all said and good but it didn’t mean that you wanted him to be there whenever you were overwhelmed or emotional. Sometimes you needed the space to work through your emotions on your own.

“Reid. Leave me alone.” You turn to him sharply, impatience written all over your features.

He’d been asking you about your emotions for the past fifteen minutes after noticing you turn down one of the sugary treats Garcia had brought into the office and using the small amount of favouritism you had towards him as leeway in terms of you not getting angry.

But you had your breaking point even with him.

The harshness spilling from your lips wasn’t something that was ever directed at him, so much so that it actually took him a second to register that it was him you were snapping at and not some invisible person standing behind him.

He didn’t even have time to respond to you. You were already around the corner by the time he’d come back to his senses.

He didn’t bother you after that.

At all.

There was no small talk at the beginning of the office days, no conversations on the jet between cases. He stopped waiting for you before leaving the office and picking you up coffee on days he knew you’d be late.

It threw you back in time to the first few years of working with him. And it seemed that the rest of the team was feeling the inherent ‘nostalgia’ as well, and not in a good way.

The small lingering glances and silent conversations you’d engage in had completely disappeared, and not having Spencer has the bridge of proper communication between you and the rest of the team made merging your psychological profile with the main behavioural profile for your most recent case three steps longer than it needed to be.

Because he was basically refusing to speak to you. Following your instructions to a T.

It didn’t help that it was a child case either. You always seemed to have issues with those. You worked twice as fast, but also made twice as many mistakes, and without someone like Spencer to filter your thoughts through to make sure that they were all objective it meant that your profile was lagging behind.

The child you were looking for died before you found him.

And by the time you’d reached the jet to fly back to Virginia, you’d already internalised his death as your fault.

You kept yourself together through the airport, through boarding and take-off and until you watched your team members fall into a blanket of uneasy sleep as everyone tried to brush off the emotional wreckage that they’d seen over the last few days and detach themselves from the child they’d failed to save.

You were usually pretty good at that part.

Separating yourself from your work came naturally for you, and it was something you were extremely grateful for when getting rest after a particularly hard case. But children were different.

They always were. Especially when it felt like you had a personal hand in their death.

With an internal sigh you accepted your fate of staring at the beige walls of the jet’s cabin until you inevitably couldn’t take it anymore and barricaded yourself in the bathroom for the remainder of the flight.

Now’s about the time where you’d probably distract yourself by starting Spencer on a tangent. Getting him to talk about something that was completely unrelated to the case you’d just sat through to drown out the voices inside of your head and allow you to rest peacefully despite yourself.

But you couldn’t do that right now.

Half because Spencer was already asleep and half because you’d pushed him away.

And now you had to lie in the hole you’d created for yourself.

You didn’t even end up making it into the bathroom.

You curled your legs up into yourself in the corner chair you’d bagged yourself, rested your elbows on your knees, and covered your face with your palms as the tears started a steady flow down your cheeks.

It was honestly one of the worst feelings in the world. Curled up into yourself with your hands cupped over your mouth to keep your staggered breathing quiet enough to not wake the other agents sleeping around the cabin.

As you sat there, the weight of your emotions pressing down on you like a heavy blanket, you couldn't shake the feeling of regret for pushing Spencer away.

His concern was always genuine, his presence a source of comfort even when you didn't realise you needed it. Now, in the silence of the jet cabin, his absence felt like a void.

Each tear that slipped from your eyes felt like another weight added to the burden you were already carrying.

The familiar ache in your chest threatened to consume you as you struggled to contain the flood of emotions threatening to spill over and wake your teammates.

Despite the exhaustion pulling at your bones, sleep remained unobtainable, lost in the emotional maze of regret and self-blame that you’d managed to lose yourself in to the point where you couldn’t even stand up to give yourself some privacy.

You felt utterly alone, isolated by your own actions in every sense of the word. Each passing minute stretched on for what felt like hours, dragging you deeper into the abyss of your thoughts.

You weren’t quiet enough apparently, and you hear a small shift from the long sofa to your right as your emotional breakdown seemingly catches someone’s ears to the point where they’ve woken up.

“…are-” Spencer’s voice is quiet and mildly groggy as he wakes from the sounds of your internal anguish, and he cuts himself off before getting his whole question out.

You wanted him to leave you alone.

“sorry…” He shifts onto his side until his back is facing you, not wanting to pry if you were uncomfortable with it but also not willing to watch you break down if he knew he couldn’t do anything about it.

“I’m not okay Reid…” Your words are caught in between stunted breaths and shaking movements. “I need help-”

Your words sent an ache right through his heart that made him think it was going to split in two. He can hear the tremor in your voice, the shakiness in your tone as you force yourself to be vulnerable with him. And it makes him want to join you in a fit of tears.

If you were actively reaching out like this, it had to be bad.

“I know…” His voice is barely above a whisper as he slowly turns his body, still hesitant to look you in the eyes but wanting to see your expression.

He doesn’t know if you want comfort or advice, but he knows which he’d prefer to give as his eyes land on your face and take in the sight of you, curled up into yourself with tear stains tracking down your cheeks in the cabin’s low lighting.

“But I don’t know how to…” The silence is the worst part of the conversation from his end of things – a silence that was deafeningly loud. His eyes dart between the cabin door and you.

But he doesn’t move. He doesn’t get up, or get closer. He just stays put.

He doesn’t know what to do.

“Tell me how to help you…”

“I don’t-” You barely get the chance to start speaking before your crying renders you effectively mute, your throat filled with sobs that leave your mouth into the palm of your hand as you attempt to silence yourself and not ruin anyone else’s slumber.

He can see your fingers trembling as you hold back the noise. From across the aisle, Spencer watches the way you shake until his stomach ties in a knot just from seeing you distressed.

But there’s nothing he can do.

“Can I try something?” He murmurs his words softly, like he’s afraid of frightening you further as he pulls himself upright on the couch seat to plant his feet firmly on the floor.

You answer him with a nod, too unstable to even think about trying to answer him verbally under the threat of breaking down further.

He pads across the aisle deftly, taking a seat in the chair beside your own and deftly bringing his arm across the back of your shoulders to rub lines against your back.

It’s a somewhat pathetic pat, a mix of fatigue and hesitation mixing in his movements and making his attempt at comforting you feel clumsy and mildly awkward.

But he was trying, and that was the main point.

The awkwardness really held no ground under your inherent need to just feel comforted in the moment, and you take no note of it as you turn your head into Spencer’s shoulder with your hand still cupped over your mouth as you tremble under his arms.

His hand becomes a little more confident once you accept his attempts.

He didn’t know how to help you.

He didn’t know how to soothe you.

And the thought of not being able to save you from yourself was tearing him up inside.

But the least he could do was this.

Spencer’s touch is gentle as he places his other hand onto the back of your head, fingers brushing along your hairline as he encourages you further into his embrace.

There’s nothing he should say right now, nothing he could say right now.

Whatever would come from him would be a string of false assurances he wasn’t sure he would even believe himself.

Instead, he settles for the soft touches, his gentle fingers and trying to soften your breathless sobs into something less heartwrenching.

It felt mildly awkward to be the source of someone else’s comfort — he’d usually been on the receiving end of it — but it was working, and he could slowly feel your shoulders relax under his hands, your sobs reducing to small sniffles as you calmed under Spencer’s influence.

“Breathe…” He whispered the words quietly against the top of your head, making a show of taking deep breaths that you could feel against his chest as a silent instruction for you to mirror.

The rise and fall of his chest underneath your hand was crucial in helping you slowly regulate your breathing to match his, the remnants of sniffles that caught in your throat slowly dissipating until they were non-existent.

The peak of your distress slowly eludes you as you sink down to a gradual calm, and the harsh beating of your heart against your sternum was slowly regulating itself as well until it was soft enough that it didn’t ring in your ears.

Spencer remains quiet as he continues to rub gentle lines over your spine. If he kept you him his grasp like this for long enough, your fatigue might catch up to you and make you fall asleep. And that would be alright with him.

“I shouldn’t have snapped at you for trying to help me,” You air out your half-apology once you’re confident enough that speaking won’t send you down another spiral, your words muffled slightly against his shirt.

It’s a sudden break to the small pocket of silence you’d created, and Spencer’s hand pauses for a fleeting second before continuing to trace its path over your back. “You were stressed and I pushed a limit, it was understandable…”

He wouldn’t lie to you and say that everything was alright and he didn’t take it personally. It did hurt for you to be so harsh to him, but hearing you try to apologise made it feel a little better at least.

“I just wanted to help…”

“I know…” You turn your head further into his shoulder until your face is hidden in the curve of his neck. “I’m sorry,”

Your apology, voiced properly this time, elicited a small sigh from his lips, and he adjusted his arm around you to accommodate the new position you were in.

The feeling of somebody leaning on him, relying on him so much for comfort was a rather novel experience. He liked his distance, his personal space, and his preference for not being touched always trumped anything else. But this was different.

“Don’t apologise…” Spencer shakes his head against yours as he murmurs out his words. “Just rest…”

You give him a small hum as your only indication of acknowledging his suggestion, letting out a small yawn into his neck as the consequences of your emotional breakdown catch up to you and riddle your body with fatigue.

You were practically melting into him by now, your weight resting against his side, but Spencer wasn’t complaining.

It made you seem so vulnerable, so small and relaxed and different from how you usually presented yourself to the world.

Once your yawn reached his ears he knew your body was preparing to slip into unconsciousness.

But he couldn’t bring himself to move away from you.

He’d seen you fall asleep before; he’d seen the way your mouth had parted slightly right before a small snore left your lips, the delicate rise and fall of your chest as your breathing evened out and the way your eyebrows furrowed when you fell into a dream.

He didn’t want to interrupt his comfort by moving away. So he didn’t. It wouldn’t hurt to hold you for a little bit longer.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #mgg #climacteric 🪶 #asks 🫶

[httpsghostie]

Beneath the Surface

Part one

Part two

A/N: First post! English isn't my first language so I'm sorry in advance if there's anything wrong with the writing.

Can't stop thinking about this man, it's unhealthy at this point

Brought you something filthy, hope you enjoy

Requests are open and appreciated!

Summary: Simon, your father's best friend, shows up in the middle of the night to give you a shoulder to put your legs head on.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: smut, Simon 'Ghost' Riley x female!reader, unprotected sex (don't b silly wrap your weenie), p in v, implied age gap, choking, breeding kink (?

masterlist

NSFW below the cut

It had been an exhausting day and you felt like everything just decided to go wrong, all in one day. It started small, your sleeve getting caught in the door handle when you were cleaning the house, then it became a snowball. Accidentally hitting your foot on the corner of the bed, stumbling on the bucket and falling over it, spilling the dirty water all over the floor. At the end of the day you were overwhelmed, even the shower decided not to work properly, and you couldn't stand being near anything that could breathe. 

But there you were, endlessly trying to achieve the perfect eyeliner look because your college friends wanted to party. Failed attempts and sore eyelids lead you to a breakdown, and your attempts were soon washed away by your tears. Everything was too much and you just wanted a good night of sleep on a simple friday night. You sobbed in the bathroom as you tried to calm down, but your eyes were puffy and your face was swollen. The makeup was left on the bathroom sink and you went straight to your room to put on something more comfortable. 

Your parents weren't home, somehow when your dad was around he'd take your mom on late night dates. Simon, on the other hand, didn't have a wife or kids to come home to, and being your father's best friend, you probably saw the man even more than you saw your dad. He was almost always around when he was deployed, he had the keys to your parents house and he'd just show up. 

That wasn't exactly the best moment for him to appear in your living room when he realized the scream you let out. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare 'ya" he said. The room was lit by the TV screen and hopefully he wouldn't see your crying face. You sigh and walk to the kitchen, looking for something to eat, you end up making some popcorn and when you sneakily try to go straight back to your room, a cold hand grabs your arm. 

"Spit it out" he said. He knew you, usually you were happy and outgoing around him, and now you were just irritated and, of course, he couldn't comprehend. Your father didn't know but you were really close to Simon, he was kinda the cool uncle while your actual dad was strict and kind of annoying sometimes, Simon really made your high school years better just by being around when he could. 

"Not your business" you said, storming out. He followed your steps to your room, where you sat down on the bed and pulled a blanket over your legs, the bag of popcorn on your lap. He stood by the door frame, leaning against it, arms crossed as he eyed you. 

"Someone's grumpy" he tsked. "Come on, love, tell me what's wrong" he said as he came into the room and closed the door behind him. Something about him calling you love always caught you off guard, but now that you were in fact an adult with full knowledge of your feelings and needs, it made your stomach flip. 

"Nothing, Simon" you rolled your eyes at him as he sat in front of you on the bed. He made you a confused frown and laid a gentle hand on your knee. You could never keep things from him, his gaze burned you inside whenever he felt you were lying. "Just.. bad day, ok?" You sigh. 

"Bad day, huh?" You felt him mocking, but you couldn't care. "Elaborate." It felt so stupid to be angry because all the small things went wrong during the day, when you knew he had bigger problems to deal with in whatever army life he signed up for. 

"Everything went wrong today," you start, "I don't know, everything was either irritating me or hurting me, I even spilled the dirty water on me and the clean floor-" he cuts you off, laughing, you give him a killing stare. He holds the bridge of his nose and makes a disgusted face. 

"Have you showered?" His mood lightens you up and you chuckle, pushing him playfully. 

"Yes, I've showered." You say. "Cold shower, by the way." 

"What's wrong with the shower?" He asks and you shrug. "Aye I'll take a look at it later, 'k?" You nod. "Anything else that's bothering you?" God, it's like he could see through you. 

"I was going out with my friends," you explain shyly, "I couldn't finish my makeup and got frustrated, so I texted them saying I was sick." 

"And are you?" He tilts his head at you, you shake your head. "Why did you lie then, huh?" 

"Look I don't need a lecture on what to do, alright, Si? I just need to rest." The bag of popcorn on your lap became cold when you first took a handful to eat. 

"Want a massage?" He smirked. Of course you wanted a massage from those big, calloused hands of his that would fit perfectly around your neck. You stared at his hand and bit your lower lip, nodding. 

He gently pulled the blanket down from your legs and adjusted himself. You turned the TV on and he started to massage your feet. You let out a soft whimper as he ran his fingers against your skin, just now noticing how he shifted uncomfortably under your calves. 

Of course there was one more thing your dad didn't know: how touchy his best friend was with his daughter. You could say it was because he was a skirt chaser, or probably just touch starved, but the explanation didn't matter when his hand was traveling up your thigh under a blanket when you and your family were trying to watch a movie together. It was never more than this though, occasional touches that left you aching for him, hot and bothered. 

A movie played on the screen as he continued to massage your feet. There was something so sexual about him, the flexing muscles on his arm, his chest going up and down with his breathing, the growing bulge on his pants you could feel with your ankle and made a pool of arousal on your panties. 

Your shorts were... well, short, and he couldn't help but stare at you while you closed your eyes and imagined that monster of a man pinning you down and fucking you rough. More hums and soft whimpers escaped from your throat and they were going straight to Simon's dick. A malicious hand caressed your inner thigh and you opened your eyes with a confused, but hopeful look. He wasn't looking at you, and your stomach dropped when you saw a sex scene playing on the screen. You close your legs unsubconsciously and he looks at you. 

"'M sorry, love" he takes his hand off your thigh and chuckles. The nickname sent you over the edge, something snapping inside of you. He feels the way you shiver and how tense you seem, so he takes that bag of barely touched popcorn and places it by the bedside table and then land a warm hand on your waist. "What's on your mind, princess?" 

Well, nothing besides him naked, wasn't it obvious? But you couldn't say that, your mind was racing back and forth, and when you were unable to form a believable sentence, he caught you staring for too long. 

"Cat got your tongue?" He chuckled as his fingers traced circles on your waist. You can't remember the last time he tried doing this to you, but you know damn right you should've taken the chance to get laid, but God was it hard to understand this man. He'd tease you and pretend it was nothing, he'd leave you begging for him and say he couldn't touch you. Sometimes you just wanted to punch him for that. 

And yes, you found other ways to get satisfied. Got yourself a boyfriend during recess when neither Simon or your dad were around to pester the poor guy. But eventually they came home from wherever they were, and your father wasn't exactly happy about it, nor Simon, in fact, Simon was even more pissed than your dad. 

You couldn't say how many minutes you spent eyeing the man in front of you, but he grew impatient. The hand on your waist was gone and now spreading your legs to his liking, his body now towering over you. 

"If you don't tell me what's going on in that pretty little head of yours I'm gonna have to find out for myself." He said in a low, seductive voice. 

You gave in. Your hands grabbed the back of his neck and you kissed him feverly, a sloppy, wet kiss, he pressed his body onto yours and you could feel how hard he was on your lower body. But Simon was eager, he couldn't wait for it anymore, he needed to be inside of you. 

He yanked your shorts off, throwing it somewhere across the room, you also took his shirt off, revealing his perfect toned muscles and the scars that adorned it. He unbuckled his belt with one hand as the other one successfully removed your shirt. He didn't even bother taking his pants off, he just pushed them and his boxers down enough to let his dick free. He aligned it with your wet cunt, smearing your arousal all around your folds. 

"'S fucking wet already, huh?" He rubbed two fingers on your clit as he jerked himself off with his spare hand. "Can't imagine what you were thinking 'bout" he smirked. 

He put his tip on your entrance, looking at you for a sign of approval. You nod. He slowly pushed his length inside of you until it bottomed out. You clenched around him as you moaned. His body started moving faster as you adjusted to his size. He was big, you've felt it before with your hands, but you've never actually seen it. 

"Fuck, Si," you moan, "faster." You sounded like a desperate whore and he enjoyed it. You weren't exactly used to him not teasing you until you were on the verge of tears, so when he started to pound into you, you couldn't hold your moans. 

"Needy little slut." He grabbed your hips in place, almost using you like a fleshlight. He groaned, his chest rising with the heavy breathing. Fuck, that man was hot. 

His hands let go of your hips and held the back of your knees, so you were spreading even more. He watched as his dick abused your swollen and wet cunt, and he could cum just at the sight of his pretty princess getting ruined by his fat cock. You felt the cold metal on his belt hit the back of your thighs as he gave you deep thrusts. 

One of his hands traveled to your folds, his thumb drawing circles on your sensitive clit. As he was fucking your brains out, you dig your nails on his shoulders and earned a few moans along with a smirk. 

You were both really close when you heard a car park in the driveway, your eyes widened at Simon as he didn't seem to have listened to the sound of your parents getting home. 

"Fuck, Simon, my parents" you tried to push him away but his grip on you got stronger. He placed both of his hands on your neck and squeezed it. 

"Shut up" he whispered, not altering his pace. "Cum f' me, love" he demanded. Your hand rubbed your clit as he fucked you even harder. It was impossible to hold it back anymore and you reached your climax under him, your legs shaking from the overstimulation of his non-stopping thrusts. You heard the front door getting open. "'M gonna fill this pretty cunt of yours, huh? 'S that what you want?" He whispered in your ear. You could only slightly nod. "Good girl." He gave you a few more deep, shaky thrusts as he spilled his load into you and pulled out. 

"Y/n? We're home" you heard your mom shout from downstairs. Simon quickly pulled his pants up and put his shirt back on, throwing you your shorts that were across the room, tossed on the ground. He quickly got out and went to the bathroom, pretending he was fixing the shower. 

"Simon?" Your dad shouted in a worried and anxious tone, he obviously saw his friend's car in the driveway, and what was his friend doing here in the night when his daughter was alone? 

"Here" he shouted back from the bathroom, your dad ran upstairs to check if everything was alright and found Simon trying to fix the shower. 

"Everything alright? Heard noises" your dad asked. 

"Y/n gave me a call, she wanted to shower but apparently the shower wasn't working" you overheard Simon explain. He stepped out, turned it on and let the water run for a bit. "It's working now." 

You have absolutely no clue what the fuck he did with the shower in such a short period of time, but the effort was well appreciated. He tried to excuse himself out, but your dad insisted for him to stay the night. You waited in your room until your parents went to bed to get out, the back of your thighs were marked from his belt and your neck was red from his grip, not to mention the oozing cum on your thighs that your panties and shorts weren't able to hold. 

Simon was in the guest room when he heard you walk to the bathroom to get yourself cleaned, and of fucking course he wouldn't let you do it alone, he's finally got a taste of you after all these years holding back and he won't stop until he's fucking his cum inside you again as the running water muffles the sounds of how good he makes you feel.

#cod mwii #cod mw2 #ghost cod #simon ghost #cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod smut #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost smut #mw2 fanfic

[saerotonins]

watching nanami's last dance

ft. nanami kento x reader

content warnings: fluff, light angst, jjk actor au, descriptions of nanami's scene (im so sorry), light hurt/comfort, slightly suggestive at the end

wc: 1047

note: guys he's not dead it's all just acting ok

jjk actor au masterlist

the soft breeze of the air, the pretty scene across the beach.

kuantan, malaysia indeed looks like a sight for sore eyes. but more so is your husband.

kento looks so peaceful, the small but obvious smile adorned his face as he take his slow dance, prance like someone who had just got their freedom. he looks so free of pain, even through an untrained eye, his heart feels light.

and it was then replaced with kento's cries of pain, agony, and compassion, while fighting off curses that surrounded him.

contrary to what you have seen earlier, he looks so exhausted, yet he still fought so hard to protect the youth and save everyone with all what he has and with all what he can do.

but as soon as he felt like he did enough, as a man, kento lowers his pride, and with a soft smile on his face,

"you've got it from here," he had said as the soft smile on his vanished the moment he did.

kento jolted beside you as he heard you wail and cry while hugging the plushie of him. he can clearly see the pain in your eyes and the snot present in your face.

"NANAMI, NOOOOOOOO!" you shouted all over again as you hugged the plushie tighter. your eyes and nose are all swollen from all the crying and your breaths and voice have been escalating really bad.

she's really taking this seriously, huh, kento had thought while staring at you across the couch.

eventually, he felt a bit bad and scooted closer to you and wrapped you around his embrace as he kisses the crown of your head.

"you're here crying over a fictional man when the real thing is just right here, darling," he said with a slight hint of humor in his voice. even without seeing his face, you know he's grinning.

you try to wiggle out of his arms but unfortunately, he's stronger than you. "you're making fun of meeeee," you say as you sniffle through your still flowing tears. "he deserved betterrrrrr, he had done so much why is his ending like thisssssss," kento couldn't help but smile as he cradle you in his arms and brush your hair through his fingers as a way to comfort you.

"he deserved so much more kento, i'm so sad," you managed to muster in between tears, "i know, darling, i know, but i'm always here, alright?" he coos at you as he sways both of your bodies back in forth and hugging you closer to his body.

you stayed in the same position all while kento is still cradling you to comfort until the episode ended. once the commercials started rolling, he spoke up.

"you're so cute when you get worked up like this, darling," he chuckled as he cupped your face with his large and gentle hands so he could see you.

there, his heartstrings had been tugged once again by you. even after crying, you still look majestic despite the tear stains and snot that had decorated your face. he also felt a part of his shirt getting wet because of your tears but he doesn't mind it one bit.

"stop it, that scene was made so well it emotionally broke me, nanami deserved better," you pouted from his teasing.

"mhm-hm, i know, darling, you were so adorable," he replied accompanied by a kiss on your forehead.

"stop flirting with me right now, i literally just lost a husband," you say with faux annoyance in your voice.

you suddenly hear and see your husband let out a very hearty belly laugh, he finds your breakdown very much amusing. "alright, i'm sorry for disrespecting the dead," kento joked as he continued to laugh.

you slapped his biceps for teasing you, "you're such a menace! i'm a grieving wife and you're making fun of me," 

"alright, alright, i'll stop," kento then reached for your left hand and brought it to his face. you see him look into your eyes right before kissing the finger where your wedding and engagement rings sit. "you're still cute though, too bad i wasn't able to record it," the playful glare from your eyes made him chuckle.

"okay but seriously though, that made me so sad, i want to fulfill his wish," a frown creeped onto your face when you remembered that nanami wanted to go to malaysia.

kento's eyebrows perked up, "you want to go to malaysia?" 

"we will go to malaysia, he at least deserves to live his dreams through me," kento nods, agreeing to your idea, "alright, we'll go there around summer, i heard it's best to visit at that time, how's that sound?" kento saw a glimpse of sparkle in your eyes and your wide smile as you vigorously nodded before you pull him into a tight embrace.

a comfortable silence envelopes the both of you for a while until he breaks it and faces you, "you let a fictional man's dreams comes true but how about mine?" he said with faux jealousy and sadness in his eyes, and a hint of mischief, one that you didn't catch.

you look at him with confusion in your eyes, "huh? what would you like then?" kento closes the gap between you and whispers to your ears, "i really, really, want to have a daughter," and when he faces you again, a shit-eating grin is present on his face.

you were shocked, to say the least. "you're so stupid!" you say out of nervousness as you feel the heat rise on your face, but the stutter in your voice doesn't go unnoticed by your husband.

ah, five years of marriage and he still makes you feel like this.

you cleared your throat right after you recovered, "well, maybe we can start making that dream a reality now."

kento's smile grew even wider and let out a hearty giggle, "that's my girl," he said with a husky voice before lifting you off from the couch and carrying you bridal style as he took wide strides towards your shared bedroom.

"it's gonna take many rounds though, so i hope you're ready," he says mischievously with a bright smile spread across his face.

oh boy, it's going to be a long night.

another note: this is a treat for my fellow kento girlies. i hope everyone is doing well (i'm still suffering btw), giving yall a big virtual hug <33

#jjk actor au #nanami fluff #nanami angst #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento angst #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x yn #nanami x you #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk fluff #jjk angst #jjk x reader

[wonryllis]

YES BABY? ﹙ in a lovesick smile.﹚

────𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 .

( NOTES. ) lee heeseung as your comfort love. fluff. comfort hurt. fem!centered. lowercase intended. 810wc. frm my old acct. 𓈃 ๋ 𝐍𝐄𝐖 峠

reqs are open!

you watch as heeseung laughs with jay, giggling and snorting over something you assume jay told him. for minutes you have been contemplating whether you should tell him or not, more like ask him. afterall it’s something he bought, you can’t just have it like that, even if its as minuscule as it is.

for as long as you can remember you had been scolded and talked bad about when you took anything without asking, even something like a thin cucumber slice as a child. eventually you stopped, not bothering to have or ask for things that you liked or needed; being told you waste money when you only wanted to enjoy suppressed your will to voice out or act on your cravings.

walking up to the corner of the couch where both the boys are seated, you stand in front of heeseung. looking at the tiny mole near his jaw in a fiddling nervousness while he's focused on jay. but all that focus shifts on you before you even tap on his shoulder to get his attention, your index finger mid-way in the air, hovering over his arm as he subtly gestures to jay and then turns to look at you. removing his cap so that he can see your face better, he asks,“yes baby?” a fond and lovestruck smile spread on his lips, his eyes twinkling with hearts and stars.

for as long as you can remember you had always been looked past, disregarded or brushed aside during conversations. people, even your own family members wouldn’t consider whatever you were saying as important enough to acknowledge. simply your words, your opinions weren’t ever important, at least that’s you were made to feel.

“the ice cream..i..-”, you mumble out in a small voice afraid of him getting upset and mad at you or so but instead he pouts in an apologetic ‘oh no’ look, almost making you believe it’s wrong. “i only got myself rainbow sherbet since you had a cold last week and they didn’t have you favorite,"

“should i go get you some now? you want it, right?” he asks softly, reaching out to hold your hand in his, gently squeezing your fingers and rubbing his thumb across them while lightly swinging your arm with his as he looks up at you.

“can i go with you?” his smile widens at that and he nods.

but it falls immediately when he sees your eyes starting to water, the white turning into subtle red, as the tears begin to shine against the light of the room.

and for as long as you can remember your presence was ignored whenever you cried, it didn’t matter even when it was something as serious as the worst mental breakdown you had ever had in your life. like you were invisible, people walked past you, talked and laughed while you were there crying just beside them. people who were supposed to comfort you. you could say you never had someone comfort you during hard times or something even as small as hitting your head against the car door, when you would mumble out a small ouch and no one around would bother to look at you. no one would even ask if you’re okay when you would fall over and scrape your knee or walk over a piece of glass.

but heeseung, he is the kind of person you should have had or perhaps needed your entire childhood and up until you actually met him. being with him made you realize that you could be treated like a princess, you could be given importance, you could be given respect and a kind of love which doesn’t put you down. you could be cared for like a baby yet still not be spoiled, you could make mistakes and not be made fun of for that, you could be taken seriously and most of all, you could be you and still be loved with all of a heart, mind and soul.

he made you realize, right people make you feel right and wrong people come disguised as people closest to you. they may not intend to hurt you but they did and you’re not obliged to forgive them.

in an instant your boyfriend stands up, bending to your height and cupping your face. bambi eyes big and concerned as he wipes the tears now rolling down and constantly muttering 'why’, this is what you had missed, never experienced.

when you step back a little and tumble on a cord on the floor, almost falling over he grabs you in swift motion before crouching down to let him give you a piggy back ride to the store just across the building because he doesn’t want even a scratch on you.

love might not heal but sometimes it shows what should have been.

TAGLIST ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii

#enhypen imagines #k-labels #enhypen headcanons #enhypen fluff #enhypen reactions #enhypen drabbles #enhypen heeseung imagines #enhypen oneshots #enhypen angst #enhypen scenarios #enhypen soft hours #enhypen soft thoughts

[yanderestarangel]

HEADCANONS MW3 - "HE TOLD ME TO TAKE CARE OF YOU" | GHOST X READER

TW: spoilers about the canon story of mw3, death, mourning, angst, smut, praise, comfort, care, gn reader, use of medicines, breakdown, ghost soft spot, reader moves on after Mactavish's death, nsfw, reader's mixed emotions and ghost, post death of "soap mactavish" , dark themes.

A/N: People who are fighting in the comments: this is a work of fiction, if you take it seriously just DON'T READ IT.

Your world collapsed after the news that your fiancé "John Mactavish" aka "soap" had died, and what's worse, for Makarov. You felt your feet tremble and your breathing hitch - Price himself gave you this news, making you sob on the phone while Price, Gaz and especially, Ghost, listened to your pain and anger.

Ghost already knew you, he was soap's closest friend, he had been to your house several times and was even going to be best man at your wedding, along with Farah, however, Mactavish's young death took that away from you - and the man felt guilty, maybe if Ghost had been quicker, maybe if he had been close to Price he would have stopped Soap from trying to play the "hero" and getting shot in the head, maybe - Simon's mind was filled with "maybe " mute and would never have an answer.

You couldn't go with Ghost, Gaz and Price to throw Soap's ashes into the sea, you really wanted to - but part of you was paralyzed, as you clung to old photos and videos of Soap, or rather, your boy, your Johnny. Ghost went to your house, carrying the jar - now empty - of your fiance's ashes, he saw how weakened you were, and how quickly you tried to close the door in his face, however, he obviously didn't let you, using one of the hands to stop the blow. "-We need to talk (Y/N)." He just said that, muffled by the skull mask, his hard and cold eyes now carried a dead glow of sadness, anger and concern, Simon entered your house, without even hearing a vocal response from him.

"-I know things can be difficult for you, I know you loved Mactavish... But he asked me to take care of you (Y/N)" he paused significantly, a silence of understanding crossed the small and empty space between the two of you, while Simon squeezed the handle of the suitcase with all his strength, while holding back the single tear that tried to slip from his eye. "-He told me to take care of you if something happened to him and I will keep my word, whether you want my help or not." he added, as the cold gaze returned to you, searching for some kind of understanding on your face, he knew what it was like to lose someone you loved - however - he was focusing on you now, he could handle the pain, but you couldn't.

Then he did something he never did, he let the head of the impetuous and soulless man collapse slightly and letting the suitcase fall to the ground in a light tumble, the sound called you back to reality making you look at the tall and muscular form of Ghost with his arms open to you, while he was teary-eyed but refused to shed any tears, mixed emotions between the two of you, but the same feeling - the pain of sudden loss - you ran into the soldier's warm grip, feeling the smell of clothes wet from the rain and the thick, uncomfortable fabric of his sweatshirt, however, there was a warmth there, a warmth that you needed. You allowed yourself to cry, cry until your throat hurt, Simon's big hands made a pattern on your back and went to the top of your head, he didn't need to say anything at that moment, he just needed to give you the comfort you needed, you felt It allowed you to be taken care of, even if it was by a person you never thought would take care of you.

Simon watched you sleep after crying so much in his arms, lifting you in his arms to the upper staircase and placing you on the double bed, empty, due to the lack of John. He sighed heavily beneath his balaclava as he sat on the edge of the bed, watching you sleep. "-I will truly keep my promise, I swear to you my brother..." Ghost whispered as if he was talking to Soap, or, the ghosts that haunted him.

The next few weeks were calm and uneventful, with Simon offering to help you with the household expenses. "-You just took care of the house right? Totally dependent on Soap?" He asked calmly, no judgment reverberated in his voice, just doubts and an attempt to get closer. You nodded silently, as you watched him hand you a notepad and a pen. "-Write down all the groceries you need for the house, I'll buy them, I may not be Johnny, but I'll take care of you just like he did." he said seriously, his penetrating gaze looked at the floor as he rested both hands on his knees, waiting for you to finish the list. You didn't question it, his look was serious, a statement you couldn't deny.

So, slow steps were worked into these daily narratives, with Ghost always checking in on you, whether you were taking your medicines right, whether you were eating right and even whether you were well enough - with rare occasions of you not being able to eat and Simon preparing some soup. for you, ordering you to sit at the table while he himself fed you with a spoon, some small compliments were whispered under the typical skull mask. "-You're doing well (Y/N)." "-I'm glad you're accepting the food I made." "-Just this spoon and you can go rest, ok?" - he wasn't used to being soft with someone, but, besides the promise he made, something about you made him want to see you well, but he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind like many others.

Soon the two of you began to live together more and more, not just polite everyday conversations or routine silent care, but rather, verbalizing some abstract feelings from both your hearts. Some nights Ghost would stay with you in the dimly lit kitchen, a hot coffee in front of you both, the steam dancing between you as you smiled sideways - a sad smile, full of hurt and nostalgia, but still a smile - showing some photos of Soap, some photos of you together traveling the world on the few vacations he had while he was alive. Making him smile beneath the fabric that covered his face. "-Oh, I see... He was really quite an adventurous man." he spoke calmly, seeing your sad look as he ran his finger over the cold screen of his cell phone, so Ghost had the idea of ​​telling some stories he shared as a protagonist with Soap - like the time Captain Price made him and Mactavish clean the entire barracks because caught you both listening behind the meeting door - you smiled, now, genuinely happy, making Simon's heart warm a little, as if he was on a mission and it was finally bearing fruit, your happiness.

He accompanied you to doctor appointments and shopping, he insisted that you should take better care of yourself - Ghost dragged you to an expensive clothing store and gave you permission to spend his money however and on whatever you wanted, you couldn't deny it just nodding and swearing he could see a chaste smile appear slightly on the black fabric he wore. You changed for him, trying out some clothes while he approved them all, making you smile beautifully, questioning him if he was being sincere. Simon just crossed his arms and let out a breath through his nose "-I'm just being honest, you're a beautiful person, any clothes you wear look great on you." he spoke sincerely, not noticing the words slipping off his tongue. You thanked him for the compliment, while selecting the clothes, the two of you heard the attendants talk about what a beautiful couple you made. You didn't say anything and neither did Simon correct them, just holding your shoulders in a gesture of shy affection.

Your feelings were confused, you practically lived with Simon now, even giving yourself the freedom to walk around the house in just a towel, you felt good, good about yourself and the man who took care of you - even if your mind wondered if it was right to accept such intimate contact with your late fiancé's friend -

Questions were also present in Ghost's mind, but he liked to take care of you, it wasn't just an obligation for a promise but for pleasure and self-satisfaction, the two of you now practically lived together - something that happened naturally, over time , just proof of a greater connection that was growing in both of you - soon you found yourself arranging Ghost's clothes, like you did with Soap, taking care of his lunch, even though nothing more intimate had ever happened, nothing more than pleasant conversations and warm touches, but covered by the fabrics of your body and Simon's gloves. The spark that was igniting there transcended any bond he had formed and any morals built during his time with Mactavish. He wondered if it was worth going over everything he believed in and trying something with you, touching your skin, feeling you on his fingertips, seeing your happy face and contorting with pleasure because of him - thoughts he didn't think about. he managed to free himself, after all, no man is hypocritical in his pleasures and desires - and Ghost was one of them.

It didn't take long for it to happen, a few glasses of wine, a few laughs between you like any ordinary weekend you were both having in that routine of caregiver x person who was dying from care. But something shone in both your eyes and his, a look that didn't need words but just actions - when you saw it, you were leaning over the kitchen counter, the taller man's thick cock hitting your holes, the swollen balls of cum hit your skin, leaving your skin red. It had been so long since you felt a cock filling you and Ghost was there, fucking you without much thought, just sweet compliments as he ravished your needy hole against his hard, cold marble on the counter. "-Yes fuck... You look so beautiful like this, take it all baby..." "-Don't be ashamed, just let go, I'm here, you've endured so much, haven't you? Yes, you're so strong... So beautiful... Let me take care of you sweetheart." "-Mmm... Fuck (Y/N)... You're squeezing me so good, keep it up okay? I'm going to make you cum, I'm here for you." He spoke between moans in the air, holding your thighs, you forgot everything, the mourning, the past, who you were, just focusing on the blur with each thick thrust and hoarse praise, full of Simon Riley's accent to you. You two didn't know how you were going to act after that, but it didn't matter about the momentary carnal pleasure.

After the post-orgasmic bliss, you and Simon exchanged more glances. "-Sorry, I just... We can't do that." Ghost spoke first, while he was still physically connected with you, leaving slowly, seeing your satisfied form but full of doubts and guilt, even so he helped you take a shower, the two of you sitting in the same bathtub, just an oral silence and the sound calm of the water filled the air particles. You didn't know how to feel, nor what to say. Ghost agreed with the idea of ​​pretending that nothing had happened between you... And that didn't do anything.

It happened again, it always did, another cold, rainy night, with Ghost above you, Simon's thick hands caressing your thighs, his warm breath on your neck. "-I promised to take care of you, I think... Soap would be happy if I made you happy in other ways too." he whispered against your wet, sweaty skin, pushing the shaft already covered in his semen even deeper, from other times he had cum, and maybe, he was right, Mactavish wanted you happy, and you were happy. He reached out his hand, grabbing yours, as he looked you in the eyes, pushing you to your limit. "-Tell me dear... You want another chance to be happy, right?" he spoke from behind the skull balaclava softly and with expectant eyes, all that was needed was your answer to your future, a future with Simon or, a future trapped in memories of the past.

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

#yanderestarangel #cod mw3 #call of duty headcanons #call of duty mw3 #mw3 #mw3 x reader #ghost mw3 #ghost mw3 x reader #mw3 headcanons #ghost x you #ghost x reader #ghost simon riley #ghost headcanons #mw3 spoilers #simon riley x reader #gn reader #cod #tw angst #tw smut #cod x reader #cod x y/n #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley mw3 #ghost mw3 x you #ghost smut #simon riley ghost mw3 #call of duty angst #soap x reader #call of duty fandom

[sanakimohara]

“DDLG” H. H. Pt. 2

A/N: Someone made this request and I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED IT WHEN I TRIED TO ANSWER THEM….i almost had a breakdown from the guilt (I’m so sorry love) but here’s more DDLG Hyunjin for you guys 🖤

[ MDNI ]

++++++

Dom Hyunjin has you spoiled rotten to the core. His card lives in your hand and he loves it. “Daddy, look what I bought today. It comes with this too..” you show off everything you get and he’ll sit there admiring it all. His spending isn’t deemed a reward for you. No, it’s more of a natural instinct of showing his affection towards you, and his giving nature only makes you softer for him. He gives and you take.

Dom Hyunjin is a borderline hard dominant. He lets you get away with a lot of things if you’re in public but when you’re alone you pay the price tenfold. ‘Sorry’ doesn’t work on him often. Acts of submission do. “You want to be forgiven that bad?” “If you’re really sorry do as your told, baby doll.” “Stop crying. You asked for this, remember?”

Dom Hyunjin will mock you. He loves it, mirroring your pathetic pleads and dramatic pouts. He could be pressing your tear stained face into the pillows, laughing softly as you cry and tremble underneath him. You know he doesn’t mean any harm by it but the notion that he could care less turns you on more than you care to admit.

Dom Hyunjin gets possessive so easily. He’s not particularly fond of anyone eyeing you for more than two seconds. When you’re out together he’s got a causal grip on you. An arm around your waist or a firm hand on your lower back. Doesn’t matter to him as long as you’re in line of reach. It’s comforting on a surface level but you know he’s being discreetly territorial.

Dom Hyunjin likes to get a before and after shot of you everytime he fucks you. It’s a common habit you don’t entirely understand but find oddly endearing. Seeing your makeup so elegantly done just to be ruined with tears and a mixture of cum brings a smile to his face without fail. He’ll sneak in some pictures of you sleeping, all worn out, and curled into his side.

Dom Hyunjin prefers you wear skirts or dresses around him. If you add stockings/thigh high socks with it he inevitably trails after you all day, waiting for the perfect moment to bend you over and get a much a deserves taste of your cunt. You can try and swat his hands away or telling him “No, not now daddy. I’m busy.” He won’t hear a word you say, pushing your skirt above your hips, and kneeling to kiss the curve of your ass. “Don’t mind me then.” He murmurs against your skin, tracing your slit over your lace panties with two fingers, and you give in with a soft moan.

Dom Hyunjin sends you gifts when he’s away. Some are sentimental, intricate flower bouquets, personalized jewelry, and anything he finds particularly cute that he knows you’d like. You have a growing collection of designer products/clothes he’s given you. Never, once have you complained or wanted to return something because he doesn’t make a mistake…ever.

Dom Hyunjin lets you play with the rings on his hand when you’re bored, secretly adoring the way your fingers glide through his, and the slight size difference between them. Sometimes you don’t realize you’re doing it as a way to cope if you’re anxious.

Dom Hyunjin gives you random head pats when you’re completing a task. “Look what I made, daddy! Lix helped me..” you beam a smile at him, holding up the platter of fudge squares you’ve made, and he can’t help but to praise your efforts. “They look amazing, baby.” He compliments you softly, tousling your hair just a little as you giggle quietly, and hold up a piece for him to taste. He’ll gladly take a bite, letting half of it melt on his tongue before offering what’s left to you. “Open,” he commands gently, smiling as your lips fall apart, obediently accepting the treat with a smile.

Dom Hyunjin styles your hair a lot. Especially during aftercare -he’s adamant about brushing through it a hundred times, gentle as ever with you, and tying it back with a bow/ribbon of your choice. You doze off quickly each time, genuinely comforted by the gesture. Even in public he’ll play with your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear if it’s out of place, or fluffing it to frame your face perfectly.

Dom Hyunjin travels with you frequently. Flying from country to country is common for you two but doing it together is exceptionally exciting. It’s not everyday you get to spend a week in Paris before landing in Japan the very next day. “Can we go to the Sanrio store in Tokyo tomorrow?” He looks up from scrolling on his phone, squinting as he thinks of an answer, and eventually he nods in agreement. “We can. After the campaign shoot though. How’s that sound, baby doll?” You grin at him and rush to plant a kiss on his cheek to which he steals one from your lips. “That works for me…”

Dom Hyunjin doesn’t set too many rules for you. He’s aware you’re capable of taking care of things yourself, that you’re independent, and headstrong. However, when you do want to release control to him the transition is seamless. He can read you like a book when it happens. How quiet you get in public or gravitating to him at events. The slightest expression in your eyes tells him everything he needs to know. He’ll do any act of service for you, lace up your heels, order your meals, and carrying your belongings or bags. Princess Treatment galore.

+++++

Like I said someone requested this but I accidentally deleted it when I tried to reply to it….🖤 so I’m really sorry and I hope they see this and know it’s for them 😭🖤

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

His “Yes…” in the audio….???? that’s exactly how he’d sound saying it to you. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. 🖤 Credits to the creator fr 🖤

#skz #stray kids #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #skz x reader #hwang hyujin imagines #hyunjin hwang #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin series #hyunjin headcanons #hyunjin x you #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin stray kids #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin #hyunjin hard thoughts #hyunjin hard hours #kpop smut #ddlg18 #ddlgsub #ddlgdom #ddlgcommunity

[sprinkler-ashes]

begin again // aaron hotchner x reader

begin again

aaron hotchner x fem!reader

description: in which there are five times that aaron hotchner restores your faith in love and one time where you restore his. inspired by begin again by taylor swift.

words: 6.1k

warnings: cursing, a touch of angst, hotch in a quarter zip and casual clothes (yes this requires a warning), fluff, hurt/comfort if you squint, reader has an awful ex (gn pronouns for ex), mentions of violence and injuries

a/n: i’ve been working on this all throughout the week every night at like 3 am running on, at best, 4 hours of sleep so i’m very sorry if there are grammar/spelling errors – i will edit soon. also i fear i’ve been watching too much dharma & greg, and this was the product. enjoy!

i've been spending the last eight months

thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end

but on a wednesday in a cafe

i watched it begin again

One.

It was week one of your new job at the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit when you knew with absolute certainty that as soon as you arrived back at the bureau, you were going to hand in your resignation.

You were sitting away from the rest of the team who all sat together, though a little cramped, and deep into discussion about something that you couldn’t bring yourself to listen to. They were talking normally as if everything they just witnessed over the last few days didn’t affect them.

You knew that you were new to this – it was your first week on the job. But you felt like you should be… happier than the way you currently felt. This was your dream job: one that you’ve spent years working towards. One that you gave everything up for, including your relationship.

However, it was starting to feel like it wasn’t worth it.

The team was very lovely. From the moment the case had begun, each one of them made an effort all throughout the trip to Missouri to make sure you were keeping up and doing okay. They’d even tried to get you to come over and chat with them when the flight started, but you lied and said you were tired.

Your head was leaning against the window, your eyes peering out to see nothing but blue skies and clouds. This was everything you’d ever wanted, so why did you feel the way you did?

A voice in the back of your head told you that your ex was right; you weren’t cut out for this. You were going to fail just like they always said you were going to – this was a mistake.

You couldn’t help but be on the verge of a breakdown with all the thoughts running through your head, but there was no way you could cry due to the presence of someone moving to sit in the seat in front of you. A part of you didn’t want to look up because you knew exactly who it was. You didn’t want to look him in the eyes, but, reluctantly, you did look up only seconds later.

BAU Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner was sitting in front of you with his usual gaze that made you feel slightly intimidated. He seemed to be good at everything he did – or at least everything you had seen him do. He was well-respected, a damn good profiler, and so put-together that it made you feel like a mess in comparison.

“Can I help you, sir?” You asked, attempting to mask the conflicted feelings in your voice.

He ignored your question. “You just finished your first case. I wanted to see how you were feeling. You and Reid really helped by figuring out the geographical profile.”

You should’ve known he would know. This was a plane full of profilers – they probably all knew.

“I’m good,” you lied with an attempted smile that never reached your eyes. “I’m glad we caught the guy; I’m just really exhausted.”

Aaron didn’t say anything as he obviously did not believe you with his eyes still watching you, presumably reading more about you in mere seconds than you even knew about yourself. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the chatter from the rest of the team filling the air.

“They’ve all been here for years,” he suddenly said. “It still affects them, but it gets easier.”

“I don’t know if I’m cut out for this,” you told him, your voice cracking in the middle of your sentence. You shut your eyes, cutting off eye contact. You didn’t want to look at your boss after you basically just told him you can’t do your own job.

This is so embarrassing, you thought to yourself.

When you finally re-opened your eyes, Aaron was still watching you. He moved forward, crossing his arms and resting them on the table between the two of you. He was looking at you with what you almost would’ve called sympathy.

“You can do this,” he reassured you, making sure his voice couldn’t be heard by the rest of the team. “You wouldn’t be here if you couldn’t. It’ll get better.”

The sheer honesty in his voice caused unshed tears to form in your eyes. No one had given you the affirmation you so desperately needed in a long time – not even your ex, who often said more unkind things than kind.

“What if it doesn’t?” You asked, blinking hard to get rid of the tears that were threatening to fall.

“It will,” he said firmly, emphasizing his words. “Go home, rest, and come back for a new day tomorrow.” With that, he stood back up, straightened out the sleeves of his suit jacket, and looked at you one last time before walking back over to where he was originally sitting. “You did very well this week.”

Aaron said everything with so much sincerity that for the first time in a while, you felt a little bit better.

—

Two.

You didn’t end up quitting.

It had been a little over a month since you almost quit your job after the first week. Things still weren’t perfect, but you had gotten more used to being a profiler and had gotten to the point where going to work didn’t feel like such a chore.

You were now in a small North Dakota town on a case. It was the second week of December, and the heat was out at the inn you were staying at, which all of you had, unfortunately, found out when arriving back from the police department.

“I probably know the answer to this, but is there any way we could go somewhere else?” JJ asked as she stood by the door. “It’s freezing, Hotch.”

“Actually, in order for it to be freezing, it would need to be–”

“Reid, not now,” Derek cut him off.

Aaron looked up from the folder he was reading. “We can’t go anywhere else. This is the only place to stay in town, and it’s the only place that was approved and booked.”

“They said they will probably have it going again in under an hour. Maintenance is working on it now,” Rossi announced as he entered the room, stepping past JJ. “They apologized for the inconvenience.”

It was eleven at night, and everyone was in clothes they were sleeping in except for Aaron who still wore his suit, minus the tie and jacket. You didn’t know how he wasn’t freezing in only his white dress shirt. The rooms at the inn were relatively tiny, but the team had all managed to cram into Aaron’s room, who got one to himself this time. They’d all flocked to his room in an attempt to figure out if staying somewhere else was possible, except for you, who had already been there.

You were sitting on the couch in the room next to Aaron as you attempted to help him figure out how this particular unsub was kidnapping his victims. The couch was particularly small, leaving no room between you and him. The entire side of your thigh was pressed against his, warmth radiating off of him despite the cold room.

Aaron sighed, laying down the folder and running a hand across his temple. “I’m sorry, but it’s out of my hands. Everyone, go back to bed. Hopefully the heat will be back on soon.”

“You coming?” Emily, your roommate for the duration of time you would be in North Dakota, asked as everyone filed out of the room.

You shook your head. “I’ll be there soon. I’m going to look over this one last time and see if there’s anything I missed.”

Emily told the both of you goodnight and left the room, leaving only you and Aaron still sitting together.

He made you very nervous. 

Aaron was older, extremely accomplished, more experienced in the job, and working with him alone was nerve-wracking. You’d proven yourself immensely in the short amount of time you had been a member of the BAU. Still – he was wonderful at everything. The idea of being wrong around him was terrifying.

As you continued to look through everything laid out in front of you, you couldn’t focus. It was so cold to the point where you couldn’t feel the tip of your nose anymore, and you were slightly shivering, crossing your arms in an attempt to warm up a little.

“Looks like I should’ve brought a winter coat to sleep in,” you attempted to joke.

The left corner of Aaron’s mouth tipped upward as he stood up and moved to the small closet. “It is pretty cold, isn’t it?”

Before you knew it, there was a brown blanket being draped across your shoulders.

It wasn’t very thick nor was it very comfortable. In fact, it felt a little scratchy to the touch as it brushed over your bare hands, but Aaron situated it until it was entirely wrapped around you while his body hovered over yours. You stopped breathing momentarily, your heart picking up its pace every time his hands scraped over your own arms. Even through your thick sweatshirt and the blanket, you could still feel his touch.

“Thanks,” you muttered. Your heart rate had gone back down to normal now that he was moving to sit again.

“I can’t have one of my agents going hypothermic,” he joked and gave you one of his rare smiles; the ones that were usually reserved for outside of work.

You weren’t blind – Aaron Hotchner was a gorgeous man, and you wouldn’t deny that just the scent of his very expensive cologne alone was enough to make you feel slightly dizzy.

However, that's all you thought. He was your boss, and you were dealing with a breakup that was still laying heavy on your heart and constantly consumed your thoughts.

But even after the heat started working only half an hour later, you didn’t remove the blanket and temporarily forgot about the person who broke your heart while you worked next to him.

—

Three.

It was six months into your job when you found yourself having one of the worst days ever.

You’d woken up late and to a text from a friend letting you know that the ex you’d been getting over for half a year was now social-media-official with the person they told you not to worry about, you spilled coffee all over your car and your white top resulting in you being even later for work as you had to go back to your apartment and change.

You were a stumbling mess when you finally made it to the conference room for the meeting that you were six minutes late for. All eyes were focused on you as you mumbled apologies and sat down while trying to listen to Aaron’s voice. It was some housekeeping things and maybe you should’ve listened, but your head was elsewhere.

The rest of the day did not go well either. Halfway through the day, you had managed to screw up the fax machine, trip over your own shoes, and give yourself not one but two paper cuts. All of it sounded like minor things – a paper cut shouldn’t have set you off so badly, but it really did.

By the end of the day, you wouldn’t have minded if the ground opened up and swallowed you whole. Once you did one more thing, you would finally be able to go home.

“Come in.”

Aaron’s office was a place that you had grown to not fear so much. In the beginning of your job, every time you had to go in, it almost felt like you were in middle school walking into the principal’s office as he sat there at his desk with a stoic stare and hardly any emotion in his voice.

“I got your email about needing to speak with me,” you told him, coming inside and shutting the door behind you. “What did you need?”

He looked up at you as you moved closer to his desk. “I just wanted to know if you were okay.”

You frowned. “I thought you said in the email that you needed to speak with me about something important?”

Aaron nodded as if it was no big deal. “You’ve been acting off all day. How you feel is an important thing – even if you think it isn’t. So, are you okay?”

Your heart broke at his kindness. He was always nice to you, maybe nicer than he should’ve been, but calling you into his office just to make sure you were okay after a bad day made you wonder why no one else had ever cared about your feelings like this.

“I’m okay,” you told him. “It’s just been a terrible day.”

Still sitting at his desk with his full attention on you, Aaron asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You wouldn't lie – you did think about his proposal for a moment. There weren't many people for you to talk to. You had friends, but not many in Quantico other than your co-workers. You’d moved alone without knowing anyone, and you worked so much that there was rarely time for you to go out and meet new people.

But Aaron was a busy man. He was probably just offering to be polite – there was no way he cared that much to hear about your miniscule problems when his job was as hectic and busy as it was.

“No, Hotch, I don’t want to keep you here any longer–”

He cut you off. “I’m already here; it doesn’t matter. You can talk to me. I’ve been rather concerned about you.”

At that moment, you couldn’t come up with an excuse as to why the idea of him thinking about you was enough to make your heart flutter.

“It’s… it’s stupid,” you started, taking a seat in the chair in front of his desk. “I had a bad breakup right before I moved to Quantico. My ex didn't really care when I went to the Academy, but they exploded when I told them how I finally got this job. It was constant fighting before they gave me an ultimatum: them or taking the job.”

“And you chose the job?”

You laughed, feeling a little pathetic. “No, at first, I didn’t. They really got it stuck in my head that I wasn’t good enough to do this. I was going to turn it down and stay, but I changed my mind last minute. I found out this morning they’re now with someone else. Then, I was late, I fucked up the fax machine, and I got a couple paper cuts. It’s nothing, really – it was just a bad day.”

Aaron moved around in his seat, leaning back a little and crossing his arms. “It isn’t nothing if it bothers you.”

“I didn’t know you were a therapist,” you tried to joke, squirming awkwardly in your seat. You were already feeling vulnerable and the way he was looking at you wasn’t helping.

“Only part-time,” he said. “Don’t tell anyone – someone may think I have emotions.”

His face was completely stoic when he said it, but as soon as you started to laugh, he joined in.

“Really, though, I’m okay – just exhausted. I think the universe just hates me right now.” You stood up to leave. “I want to beat the rush hour traffic, so I should head out, but thanks for checking on me.”

He nodded in acknowledgement and you were on your way out while thinking the interaction was over, when he called out your name.

You stopped, hand still grasping the door you were about to open. “Yeah?”

“It’s their loss.”

A frown appeared on your face. “What do you mean?”

“Your ex,” he explained. “You shouldn’t lose sleep over someone who doesn’t know how lovely you are.”

Lovely.

You’d been called a lot of things in your life, probably even some adjectives better than lovely, but the way it just rolled out of Aaron’s mouth as if it was a casual, every-day-like occurrence made you feel warm.

Aaron Hotchner thought you were lovely and knowing that kept a smile on your face for days after while the wounds that had been given to you by someone else slowly healed.

—

Four.

After a year of working with the BAU, you ended up with your first unsub-related injury.

You thought going to the hospital was pointless because you truly felt fine, but both Derek and JJ argued relentlessly for you to go due to the nasty gash on your head. Unfortunately, you were outnumbered and sent to the hospital for an evaluation after the unsub you were after thought it was okay to slam you on the ground a little too hard, resulting in a blow to your head when you went down and hit the concrete.

JJ rode with you to the hospital in the ambulance that you, very much, did not think was necessary. After seeing a doctor, it was determined that you had a concussion. With a thick bandage on your wound and a drive home from JJ who gave you strict rules on taking care of yourself while you healed like the mother she was, you were finally alone in the comfort of your apartment after a long day spent in Manassas – the location of the latest case.

Now that the adrenaline had worn off, you were starting to feel the symptoms and the sound of knocking on your door felt like nails being drilled into your head.

However, the person standing on the other side when you opened the door made your head spin faster than the concussion did.

Aaron was standing on the other side of the door, one hand holding a brown paper bag with a look of worry on his face. He was dressed casually in a navy blue sweatshirt and jeans, nose slightly red from where he had walked through the cold November air to get inside your apartment building.

In other words, he looked very good. It was hard to not grab and kiss him.

You’d developed somewhat of an attraction for your boss since that fateful day in his office. Not that you hadn’t been attracted to him before, but it now felt more like a serious affection and not some small crush – the first time you felt this way about anyone in a long time.

“Hi,” he said, shifting his weight from one foot to another upon seeing you. “How are you?” He paused after his eyes glanced at the very obvious bandage on your forehead. “Wait, I don’t think that’s an appropriate question right now. I’m sorry.”

You giggled despite the throbbing in your temple, moving to let him into your apartment. “I’m as good as I can be right now. Come on in.”

He walked into your apartment, following you into the kitchen after you shut the door and locked it. Aaron had only been to your apartment once after giving you a ride home from work, but this was the first time he’d ever been inside.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” He asked while you got a glass of water.

You nodded slightly, careful to cause any more pain. “Probably, but I can’t get any rest until my medicine kicks in and my head doesn’t feel like it’s about to bust.”

Aaron winced. “I tried to come to the hospital, but JJ had already taken you home by the time I got there, so I came here. I apologize for coming unannounced and so late, but I had to make sure you were okay.”

“You do that a lot,” you told him, leaning against one of the counters in the kitchen. “Making sure I’m okay.”

“I happen to care about you a lot.”

Hiding your smile behind the glass of water, you took a sip before focusing your attention back on the bag he brought with him. “What’s in the bag?”

It seemed as though he had forgotten he was still holding something. He raised it up and held it out to you, an almost-shy look dancing across his face that you’d never seen before on him. “I, um, made a stop at the store for you on my way over. It’s just over-the-counter medicine, extra bandages, and a couple snacks that I know you like. I figured it might help you out since you can’t drive for the next two days.”

You couldn’t stop the grin that appeared on your face. It was almost as if every time you thought Aaron couldn’t get any more perfect, he would prove you wrong.

He continued as he sat the bag down on the counter next to you. “I also wanted to tell you that Strauss said take all the time you need to recover.”

You gave him a quizzical look. “She did?”

There was only silence between the two of you as you looked at each other until he shrugged. “Well, I told her that you’re going to be taking all the time off that you need, and she didn’t really say anything so take all the time you need.”

“It’s just a concussion,” you told him. “I’ll be back to work soon.”

“A concussion is a serious thing,” Aaron said with a frown, not liking the way you brushed the injury off as nothing. “I’m glad you’re okay. Morgan said you hit the ground pretty hard before he cuffed the guy.”

You took another sip of your water before sitting it down. “I’m alive and well – Derek was just worried.”

As much as you were enjoying the feeling of talking with Aaron in your kitchen, the heaviness you felt in your eyes reminded you that it was nearly midnight, and you’d had a long day. The yawn that escaped your mouth didn’t go unnoticed.

“I should go and let you get some rest.”

You really didn’t want him to go. There weren't many other opportunities where you would get Aaron in your apartment like this. It felt oddly domestic, and you hated the fact that you loved it so much. But he was right – you did need the rest.

“Thank you again for stopping by,” you told him as the two of you walked the short distance back to the front door. “And for all the stuff you bought. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” he said, his hand lingering on the door knob. “If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to call.”

He was opening the door before you called out, “Wait,” your mind flooded with déjà vu from the time he stopped you on your way out of his office.

Aaron paused and turned to look back at you. His body hadn’t left the room yet, but the door was slightly ajar where he opened it. 

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you walked over to him and threw your arms around his broad torso engulfed in the softest sweatshirt you’d ever felt.

“Thank you,” you softly said. “Not just for tonight, but for, well, just caring about me.”

He didn’t waste a second reciprocating the hug as he wrapped his arms around you even tighter, careful not to get near the bandage on your forehead and further hurt you. He was like a human heater – warm, tall, and you fit perfectly against him.

One hug from Aaron was like a band-aid healing any problem you had – even the external ones. Maybe this was what the placebo effect felt like and if this was it, you wanted it over and over again.

“Of course,” he muttered, arms still locked around you as if he needed this more than you did.

When you finally parted, his cheeks were dusted with a slight red shade as he wore one of his grins that you’d grown to love and receive more often. “Goodnight.”

Even though you had a raging headache and a painful cut on your temple, it had nothing on the big smile you kept on your face even as you drifted off into sleep that night still feeling warm and giddy.

—

Five.

It had been almost two months since you hugged Aaron in your apartment.

Since that night, something changed in the relationship between the two of you. You couldn’t really place your finger on what had changed, but there was a shift. Tension was thick – not in a bad way but in a way where you wanted to grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him to you any time you were alone.

You also had the feeling that he felt the same way. Aaron had been a profiler for many more years than you had been, but you liked to think you were good at your job. You could read him and from the way his eyes watched you, you could tell he was feeling the same tension in the air.

It was New Year’s Eve, and David Rossi had, after a lot of pleading from Penelope, agreed to host a small get-together for the team plus family including Will, Henry, and Jack – the latter two were currently running around the, very expensive, house, which was driving Dave insane as kept watch to make sure nothing got damaged due to the kids.

You were standing outside in the backyard, the late-December air hitting your face as you glanced down at your phone that told you it was almost midnight.

When you thought back to who you were around this time last year –  a woman in a new city with a demanding job and hardly any friends, still crying yourself to sleep over someone who didn’t deserve your tears – it made you want to smile.

It had been a little over a year since you started working at the BAU and as you glanced inside through the large glass doors, you felt like you belonged. There was no more doubt, no more tears, and no more days where you wanted to run away.

“What are you doing out here? You’ll freeze to death.” You turned around to find Aaron closing one of the glass doors and moving towards you.

He was wearing a black quarter zip and jeans – a casual outfit but one of your favorites. For reasons that you couldn’t understand, Aaron Hotchner in a quarter zip made you feel things.

“I came out here because it’s cold,” you told Aaron, leaning against a railing and crossing your sweater-covered arms. “It’s so hot and stuffy in there. It’s like Rossi is trying to burn us all alive.”

Aaron laughed and walked over next to you. He leaned against the railing, his arm brushing against yours. “He does keep his house pretty hot.”

“Is Jack having a good time?”

Jack Hotchner was probably your favorite kid you’d ever met. He was a total sweetheart, and you instantly got along with him from the first day you met him.

You didn’t miss the way Aaron’s face lit up a little as you mentioned his son. “Yes, I think so. He’s a big fan of celebrating the New Year because he gets to stay up late.” You then watched his face fall a bit. “He’s been missing his mom a lot lately, so coming here tonight – it’s good for him.”

You knew of Aaron’s ex-wife who had died before you joined the team, and you knew the terrible way that it happened. You’d also heard that it greatly affected Jack and Aaron, even though he hid it more than he should’ve.

“It must be hard on him, but I’m glad he’s having a good time tonight.”

Aaron smiled. “He loves the team, but I think you’re his favorite.”

You grinned. “No way! I’m honored.”

A comfortable silence grew between the two of you with no sounds other than distinct chatter and laughs from inside of the house. You glanced over to Aaron who was pulling out his phone.

“Eleven fifty-eight,” he said. “You want to head back inside and watch the ball drop?”

You almost said yes at first because you actually did want to see the ball drop, but you also wanted a moment alone with Aaron considering you rarely got them in a setting outside of work. Maybe you were being selfish, but you didn’t care – a few more minutes with him wouldn’t hurt. “I think I’m going to stay out here.”

He didn’t say anything. Aaron kept his phone out so the two of you could keep an eye on the clock app, its tiny, orange hand moving around the twelve, now signalizing that it was eleven fifty-nine.

Your eyes kept watch on the clock as it got closer to passing twelve again. You were starting to get nervous. A part of you expected Aaron to go inside after you told him you weren’t going back in – it wasn’t like he was obligated to stay out in the cold with you.

However, he never went back inside and as the clock kept getting closer to midnight, only seconds away now, you wondered if he was thinking the same thing you were: the traditional New Year’s kiss.

You discretely searched for any sign on his face that gave away if he was going to kiss you or not. You so desperately wanted it but if he wasn’t thinking the same thing, there was no way you were going to embarrass yourself by trying to kiss him.

Ten.

Still no sign – you were starting to panic a little.

Nine.

What were you supposed to do?

Eight.

Would he rather have a handshake? He did have a pretty firm grip.

Seven.

No, screw a handshake. Who gives someone a handshake at midnight on New Year’s?

Six.

He put down his phone and was starting to turn toward you.

Five.

Was he actually going to kiss you?

Four.

“Forgive me if I’m reading this wrong, but can I kiss you?”

Three.

You couldn’t form words, only a nod, eyes slightly widened.

Two.

He was moving his hand up to your cheek and, oh dear, this was actually going to happen.

One.

Aaron’s lips were warm against yours, and you weren’t sure if you’d ever been kissed with so much delicacy. He was gentle and respectful. Your hands pressed against his chest before you finally moved them up to the nape of his neck under the collar of the quarter zip you loved so much, pulling him even closer to you.

You felt secure and safe pressed up tightly against him with one hand of his cupping your jaw as the other rested firmly on your lower back. Your mouth was opening up before you could even stop it. Aaron smiled against your lips as he felt it before he deepened the kiss.

 This time, he was kissing you much more firmly and with the feeling of his tongue moving against yours, you couldn’t remember the last time, or if ever, you felt the way you did. His hand pressed even harder against your back, making you inhale sharply during the kiss.

There was a time in your life when you thought you would never find someone else – that maybe you were destined to be alone all because of one person who didn’t see your worth, but Aaron made all the pain go away to the point where you hadn’t thought of the person who hurt you in months.

Aaron made you feel like you were floating all the time. He reminded you of your worth instead of breaking you down. He was a man who did both the small things like throwing a blanket around your cold body and the big things like bringing you snacks and medicine after a hit to the head – the definition of “if he wanted to, he would” in the best way possible.

“Hey! You guys missed the – holy shit!”

You flung yourself off Aaron and looked behind him to see Emily standing there, her mouth wide open. You’d never seen her utterly speechless like she was at the moment. She opened and closed her mouth for a moment, glancing back and forth between the two of you before she finally found something to say.

 “Morgan and Reid owe me fifty bucks.”

—

(+) One.

It was three months into Aaron Hotchner’s relationship with you when he knew with absolute certainty that he loved you.

His job was difficult, and today was no different but instead of shaking it off before going home, he couldn’t help but feel a cloud of emotion follow him all the way back home to his apartment.

He knew that you were waiting on him because the two of you were supposed to have dinner. You’d gotten to leave at a reasonable time and not, he glanced down at his watch, at nine at night. Aaron had a lot of duties and responsibilities as Unit Chief, but he sometimes wished he didn’t in order to come home at a normal hour.

Aaron saw you sitting on his couch as soon as he unlocked and opened his front door. You smiled sweetly as you looked over at him, no trace of frustration or anger at how late he was getting home.

“Everything go okay with those reports? I know Strauss was giving you a hard time,” You said as you glanced back down at your phone you were holding. When he didn’t answer, he saw you look back up at him again but this time with a frown on your face.

He knew the look he had on his face was giving him away, but he just couldn’t force himself to not feel the way that he was feeling.

You put your phone down on the coffee table and stood up to move in front of him. “Are you okay?”

“That’s usually my line to you,” he attempted a joke, but it never reached his eyes.

You responded with a half-smile. “Bad evening?”

Aaron nodded, not saying anything further. You moved closer as you wrapped your arms around his torso, hugging him tightly. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry, honey,” he said, instantly feeling a little better just from your touch. “I missed dinner. I’m not the one who should be upset.”

You pulled back and rested both hands on each side of his face as he kept his situated on your waist. “Someone told me once that how you feel is an important thing even if you think it isn’t.”

He chuckled a bit. “Using my own words against me, huh?”

You cracked a smile. “It’s okay that you missed dinner. I know you had a rough and busy evening. Don’t worry about me. We can have dinner another night – it’s not a big deal that you couldn’t make it.”

You were looking at him so sincerely and touching him with so much care that he couldn’t help but pull you back in again, eyes closing at the feeling of another hug from you.

“Let’s go to bed,” you mumbled to him. “You look like you could go for an early night.”

Aaron wasn’t sure what he did to deserve someone as good as you – someone who cared for him even on days when he didn’t care for himself. You were kind, understanding, and patient. Sometimes he couldn’t even believe he was lucky enough to be with someone like you.

So while he wasn’t sure of how deserving he really was, he was one hundred percent sure of the fact that he loved you and your lovely self.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner one shot #hotch x y/n #aaron hotchner

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 10]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to protect his new family from not only Hell's Kitchen but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

Words: 4.2k

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

When Minnie was six months old, you used to sleep on the couch so you wouldn't wake her up trying to get ready for bed. It would hurt your back - your couch was not very comfortable to sleep on - but you would sacrifice your comfort so she could sleep. No one in their right mind would wake a sleeping baby - even one that was always happy to go down for a nap. 

As your mind begins to stir, you become aware of the familiar ache in your lower back and the unfamiliar one pulsing around your eyes. Your hand slowly snakes up from where you had curled it against your chest and press your fingers along the bridge of your nose and up to the curve of your eyebrow, testing to see if the throbbing was sinus related. Nothing is triggered but your memories of the night before creep into your consciousness. 

Minnie with her tantrum and Matt with his amazing senses. 

You groan into the cushion as it all falls into place. Your eyes hurt from crying, not your sinuses, and you must have fallen asleep on the couch after your breakdown. 

Shame and embarrassment course through you. You hate crying and you hate that someone witnessed it. You can't imagine what he must think of you now - losing it like that. You should have been able to handle the news far better than you had and you're going to promptly apologize the next time you talk to him. You had acted so selfishly when it was clear he had control over the situation. 

But you don't have time to sit and wallow in your wretchedness - your daughter needs you to get up and be a capable adult, so you will your aching body to sit up. 

Your phone is sitting on the table in front of you, so you grab it to check the time. It's half past seven and your daughter has probably been awake for at least an hour. More shame courses through you - you always try to wake up before her so you can take care of her. You can only guess what state she is in. 

Your head spins as you stand, but you try to ignore it in favor of heading towards the bedroom. You prepare yourself to find a soiled bed - you didn't bother to change her into her night clothes and a pull-up and she is still mastering waking up when she needs to pee at night. 

The door is partially open and as you near it, you hear her tiny voice talking nonsense as she plays with something. You take a deep breath and push into the room, ready to face the start of your day.

Your mind short-circuits at what you encounter.

Both beds are clean and made, far tidier than you usually make them, and Minnie is sat on the floor with Scooby and some of her other stuffed animals, having what looks to be a tea party. To your absolute confusion, she is already dressed, and her hair has been put into pigtails with mismatched bows. You know for a fact she can't reach where you keep her hair supplies - you put them on a high shelf after she got into them to play salon before and managed to get her hair tangled so badly you had to cut things out. 

It doesn't even take her half a second to notice you and her little face breaks into the biggest smile, “Mommy!”

Still very much confused, you step forward to join the tea party circle and kneel down to be level with her. “Hi, sweetie,” you greet, trying your best to not alarm her. “Did you get dressed all by yourself?”

“Not-uh! Mister Matt helped! We watched lots of videos about hair and he made me pretty!”

You frown at that, “Mister Matt helped?” Had he stayed the night after you fell asleep? If so, where is he now? Your apartment isn't that big, and the bathroom door is open. Had he left before you woke up? You don’t like the idea of him leaving Minnie unsupervised.

Your daughter nods as she turns back to her toys, pretending to pour you a cup of tea and handing it over. You automatically pretend to take a sip.

“He helped make me pretty,” she confirms after putting her tea pot down, “now he's getting foods. Bagels!”

You turn the statement over in your mind - there is a bagel shop around the corner Minnie loves and if Matt is right about her also having enhanced abilities, maybe, just maybe, he didn't leave her unwatched. 

You bite your lip, then dare to push.

“Mouse, do you think you can tell me where Mister Matt is right now? Can you hear him?”

She doesn't acknowledge you right away, fussing with another piece of her tea set. You wait, allowing her to process what is being asked of her and watch as she slowly starts to move her head in minute movements, like she's tracking something. It's terrifying and fascinating to see a look of concentration come over her face and after about thirty seconds, she breaks into another big smile.

“He's talking to a frog!” 

“A frog..?” You ask, wondering if Matt was wrong about Minnie having heightened senses and she's playing pretend again.

“Yeah, he says…he says.. He's telling froggy he can't go to work. He's gonna stay with us!”

It clicks instantly. Matt isn't talking to a frog. He's talking to his business partner, Foggy Nelson, and as far as you know, Matt hasn't mentioned him or Karen yet by name to Minnie. 

“Can you tell where he is?” You ask again, being sure to be gentle with your question. 

“Outside,” is her response, like it is the most obvious thing in the world. “Froggies can't come inside. Do you want sugar?” She holds up her toy spoon and you offer her your tea cup.

“Yes, please.” 

She pretends to scoop sugar and you watch her in amazement. You are of course going to have to confirm that Matt was talking to Foggy, but it is so hard to believe your little one can hear that. You can't hear what is going on in your own living room, let alone outside your apartment. You cannot imagine how loud everything must be, how much input Mouse must be getting - but she doesn't seem bothered by it at all right now. 

She seems to be completely over her tantrum from yesterday and you want to ask her about it, but you aren't sure how or if she has the ability to express it. You know there are days you get overwhelmed and upset and you can't think of another way to explain it other than “too much”. You can't expect a three year old to articulate it better than you can. 

She's got a sweet little smile and part of you fears if you bring up her previous upset, it will spiral right back into a meltdown. So, you watch instead - watch as she goes back to playing make pretend with her toys, seemingly unbothered. You sip at your tea, making up a list of questions for Matt when he returns from his errand. 

Minnie plays for about five minutes before she perks up, beaming up at you, “Mister Matt asks if you can open the door, please thank you."

Her statement throws you for a moment and you aren't sure how much you like the idea of her being able to tell you all these things. It scares you - her knowing things you don't and not knowing what she does know. 

Maybe it is one of the things you and Matt can talk about - then talk about it with your sweet Mouse. You are going to have to get used to it, either way.

You push yourself into standing and motion for Minnie to come along. She scrambles up and runs out of the room, delighted laughter following her.

You are still in your clothes from the night before and you wish you had taken a moment to check your hair or even brush your teeth. You try to tell yourself it is fine, but your anxiety just argues back, and you feel like a complete slob by the time you get to the front door.

Your stomach and heart both do a funny clench at the sight of Matt, who is still sporting his borrowed shirt. You don't know if you want to fall into his arms or throw up or go hide under your covers so you can pretend all of this is a dream. Instead, you step aside so he can come inside and silently beg your mind to stop collapsing in on itself. 

“Breakfast delivery,” Matt says as a greeting, his entire face lighting up with a smile. He's holding a bag from the shop around the corner in one hand and a drink carrier with two large drinks along with a small one in his other.

You can feel your face starting to heat up and force your eyes down to the ground, mumbling, “you didn't need to do that.” 

He shrugs as he toes off his shoes, “I wanted to, and someone,” his voice turns teasing as he directs his next comments to Minnie, “wouldn't stop talking about bagels.”

Your daughter erupts into giggles, then turns and runs back towards the kitchen. Matt gives a pleased laugh, and your stomach flips again. He follows Minnie, and after you relock the door, you join them. 

They are sitting at the dining table, Mouse watching with a big smile as bagels are laid out on the table. Matt narrates for both of you, “Three egg bagels with plain cream cheese, two large coffees, and one kid’s hot chocolate. Now, is that the right order or was someone taking advantage?”

Minnie giggles more and that relaxes your shoulders. “No, that's right. Thank you, you really didn't -” You cut yourself off as you realize the table is clear of any mess from the night before. There are no plates on the table or in the sink, there's no lasagna stains on the floor, there's no leftovers sitting out. Your eyes drift to Matt. 

He must have cleaned after you had fallen asleep. Guilt courses through you - he shouldn't have to be dealing with your messes, especially in your own living space. You are going to need to not only apologize but return the favor somehow. You aren't sure how you'll do that - no one has ever done this much for you before, and Matt has done so so much in such a short time. 

You're dragged from your thoughts as a coffee is placed in front of you. 

“It's just black, I didn't know how you took it,” the kind, handsome lawyer says, and your heartbeat is so loud in your ears. It beats harder when you remember that not only can he hear your body and mind freaking out, but so can your daughter. 

Your instinct tells you to panic at the idea of someone knowing that much about you. You always try to stay calm on the outside while having a meltdown, but that doesn't matter with him. He'll know you're a mess. You can't hide it. 

You hear Matt ask Minnie something about her tea party and watch as she skips away from the table, but it's like your mind doesn't process it. You feel completely frozen because you don't know how to act - you don't know how to hide yourself from the man in front of you. You don't know how to hide yourself away from your daughter. 

How can you protect her from yourself? Your own body?

Suddenly, Matt is in front of you, cupping your cheeks with his large, warm hands and whispering your name. He's practically right on top of you, gently rubbing his thumbs over your skin, “Hey, hey, it's okay. It's okay. Everything is okay. Can you take a deep breath for me?”

“What?” You ask, so confused about what is going on. You don't understand why he's saying it's okay. 

“A deep breath, sweetheart. Can you take a deep breath?”

Your mind will not wrap the reason for the instruction, but you do as you are told. You inhale through your nose and that earns you a soft smile. He continues to pet you, gently instructing you to exhale after a moment and you obey. 

“Again?” He prompts and you nod. You feel shaky as you try to focus on breathing. You've always hated these exercises - they've never worked for you and have only served to frustrate you, and now you are just trying to make sure you are doing it right. How embarrassing would it be to fuck up breathing in front of Matt? 

“That's it,” he says so calmly, “Just breathe. I know it's a lot. I know. One step at a time. Let's have some breakfast, okay? Let's sit and have coffee and we can all talk. How's that sound?”

It sounds good, it sounds like the right thing to do, but your throat is clenching and not wanting to produce words, so you nod instead. 

You close your eyes to try to center yourself and somehow calm down. Matt lingers, keeping a hold of you until you hear Minnie coming back to the kitchen. It seems like he waits until the last possible moment before pulling away. 

Seeing your daughter looking so happy helps to reset your mind. She's fetched Scooby and Pig and runs up to the table to put them in their chair. You smile at the sight.

She really does seem like she's perfectly fine and maybe Matt is right and everything is okay. For now, at least. 

You force yourself into action, moving to set one of the bagels in front of Mouse, setting it on a napkin. You're going to need to transfer the hot chocolate into a mug or Mouse will spill on herself.

“Thank you, Mommy!”

She practically dives into her bagel, picking it up and taking a big bite and getting cream cheese on her cheeks. She is completely engrossed with her food.

“Thank Mister Matt, he got us breakfast,” you advise before going to get a napkin. While you are in the kitchen, you grab your creamer from the fridge.

“Thank you, Mister Matt!” she chimes before barreling on. “Mommy, did you know Mister Matt can braid hairs!”

Guilt courses through you and you remind yourself you need to thank Matt for everything he has done for you. But you tell yourself to not think of it right now - you are terrified of Minnie sensing your panic and that somehow shuts your mind down and you go into parent mode. 

“No, I didn't. Did you ask him to braid your hair?” You ask as you move in to wipe her face. She obediently tilts her face towards you and closes her eyes as you clean away the cream cheese. In the corner of your eye you see Matt sip from his coffee, a smile forming in his lips.

“She wanted puffs,” he advises, “I learned a lot of new hair terminology today. Minnie is a very good teacher.” 

Your daughter preens at the praise before taking another bite of her bagel. More cream cheese gets on her face. You decide to wait until she's done eating before tidying her up again. It will be pointless otherwise.

Instead, you start to fix your coffee, removing the lid to add creamer. You eye your daughter as you do, letting yourself finally take in her appearance. 

“You're a good stylist,” you tell Matt, and it is true. Her pigtails look even and as smooth as can be expected for a toddler. You don't see any tangles and if Minnie is happy, you have no grievances with the outcome - only guilt that Matt was the one who dealt with it. 

“I have some experience,” he hums, before taking another sip of his coffee. Then he directs his smile to his daughter, “my best friend used to have long hair. He has little nieces and they used to do his hair at Christmas, and I got roped into helping. I'm told I do a pretty good French braid.”

Mouse giggles before gasping and pointing at you, “do Mommy's hair!”

Embarrassment floods you - you don't think anyone has done your hair since you were Minnie’s age, and your current hair is a gross greasy mess and you don't want anyone touching it. 

Matt hums as he tilts his head towards you, “I think Mommy is better at doing her hair than I would be. But maybe next time?”

“Maybe next time,” you agree, hoping that will be enough to deter your daughter from this path. 

Luckily, she quickly parrots, “Next time!”

You offer her a smile and take a much needed drink of your coffee. It not only warms you but helps to ground you back into reality. 

You remind yourself nothing has actually changed - you are just more aware of the world. To Minnie, this is the same as any other day and you need to get yourself back on track. 

Which means you need to confirm some things with Matt. 

You set your coffee down, then pick up Minnie’s hot chocolate and bring it to the kitchen to transfer into one of her kid-friendly tumblers. You clear your throat, then dare to try, “Minnie said you'd be spending the day with us?”

“You told the froggy!” Mouse happily adds.

Matt looks confused for a few seconds before it must click, “Foggy, sweetheart, not Froggy. Foggy is my best friend - the one who had long hair.”

“Froggy!” Is the defiant response and you know better than to argue. Once something is named, the name sticks. But of course, Matt doesn't know this and you decide to let him learn.

“Foggy,” he tries. “Like a cloud. Not a frog.”

“Froggy!” 

“Fog. Foggy. No ‘r’.”

“Frog. Froggy! Froggy! Froggy!” Minnie bounces in her seat, starting to giggle. You return to the table, securing the lid to the sippy tumbler before placing it down.

“Ribbit ribbit,” you add and that gets you a delighted burst of laughter.

“Ribbit ribbit!”

Matt practically pouts but seems to realize he isn't going to win this. “But yes, I… told Foggy I wanted to spend the day with you. When I was in the phone, outside.” His dramatic sad face turns into something soft as he tilts his head towards Minnie, “Did you tell your Mommy you heard me?”

“I, uh, asked if she could,” you say, feeling silly for admitting it. But you know this is the path you need to take to start understanding what enhanced senses mean.

“I can hear everything,” your little one proudly says, and you've heard her say it before - but now you know she isn't just playing pretend.

“Yes, you can,” is Matt's soft reply. Unlike your underlying panic, his voice seems to carry a fondness about the whole situation. He is the one with the experience and you want to trust him with the lead on this, but it's still absolutely terrifying. 

But you know you need to set the ball up, so you gently push, “Did you know Mister Matt can also hear…everything?” You know it's not everything, at least by what Matt said, but you aren't going to get technical with a toddler. “Mommy can't, though. Mommy’s hearing isn't as good as yours and Mister Matt's.”

Mouse looks between the two of you, pursing her lips up as she thinks, then she reaches out and pats your arm comfortingly, “I'll tell you what I hears, Mommy.”

Your heart soars with so much love and you turn your hand so you can take hers and give it a gentle squeeze, “Thank you, baby.” 

“I can hears a bark-bark dog and a woofy dog,” she starts, “and there's a puppy going ‘yip-yip-yip!’”

Matt laughs a little and your focus is ripped away from Minnie and over to him. He absolutely beams at you, looking proud as can be. You wonder what this like for him - having someone else who can hear what he can.

“There's a doggy day care about two blocks north,” he informs, and it is so hard to wrap your mind around the fact your daughter can hear that far. “Clients are starting to arrive, and they are lively.”

There's a flash of brown and Minnie is waving Scooby at Matt, “Bark bark bark!”

“Is Scooby a barky dog?” He asks, leaning forward towards her and putting his elbows on the table. “Not a woofy dog?”

“Bark bark!” Is the response before Mouse makes him growl. You finally allow yourself to sit and watch the sweet interaction. Everything still feels like it's too much and swirling inside you, but seeing Matt and Minnie bond is soothing - even if it's over something you can't understand yet.

“What about Pig? Does he go bark-bark or woofy?” 

His question gets Minnie to gasp as if she's scandalized. “Pig isn't a doggy!”

“Oh, he isn't?” Matt teases, “I can't see him. What is he?”

“He's a piggy!” She snatches up Pig and clutches him to her chest beside Scooby. You hope she doesn't have cream cheese on her fingers because cleaning her toys is always an adventure. She hates when they have to get washed and now, you guess, you understand why. They probably smell different after being washed or the texture is off. It's something you'll have to explore later.

“What type of noises do piggies make?”

“Oink-oink-oink!”

“Oh, that makes sense,” he hums, then hunches forward more and lowers his voice, like he's talking in secret, “And what sounds do little girls named Minnie make?”

You finally get to take a bite of your bagel as you watch her contemplate the question. Her face screws up in thought before lighting up when she decides her answer.

“Ooogie-boogie-boo!” 

Matt throws his head back with laughter, which makes Minnie dissolve into happy giggles. The sheer joy between the two of them pulls a smile out of you and the heaviness in your chest starts to lighten more. 

“Ooogie-boogie-boo?” You question and your daughter giggles more. 

“Ooogie-boogie-boo! Like Scooby!”

You don't understand what that means but you just let the positivity continue. 

“What about Mommy? What sounds do I make?” You ask, curious what her response will be.

“Bumbum-bumbum.” They aren't words, but you instantly get it is supposed to be your heartbeat. You feel yourself start to flush. Matt had told you that Minnie listens to your heart to ground herself, so of course that is what she associates you with. But hearing it from her mouth and getting that confirmation still rocks you. 

“It's a good sound, isn't it?” Matt asks Minnie and you can imagine how red you are turning. You try to hide behind your coffee.

“The bestest,” Minnie agrees before adding, “After Scooby Song. Scooby Dooby Do! Where are you!”

“We've got some work to do now,” you half mumble, half sing with her.

“I've never heard the Scooby song,” the man beside you says and that triggers Mouse into action. She slides off her chair, and still clutching her toys, hurries across the room to the television. She knows how to bring up what she wants, so it only takes a few seconds before there is an episode starting to play on screen. 

She drops her toys and the remote before running back to Matt and tugging on his - technically yours - shirt. “You gotta listen!”

He barely gets to stand up before being pulled into the living room. He does not resist in the slightest to being directed to sit on the ground and you watch as Minnie begins to explain the intricate lore of her favorite show. To your wonder she describes each character by their voice first and you can tell Matt is completely enthralled by what he is being told. Scooby gets moved from laying on the floor to being shoved into Matt's lap so he can hold onto him. 

You realize without fanfare that you can barely hear the television. It is still on low volume from last time you had it on, and it dawns on you that you never really have it turned up too loud. Minnie can probably hear it just fine and doesn't need it blasting throughout the apartment. You never got to really watch television as a kid, and you wonder what the normal volume for watching things is supposed to be. 

You sip at your coffee, watching as Minnie plops herself next to Matt on the floor, going on excitedly about mysteries and different sounds. Both of them are smiling and laughing like they don't have a care in the world. 

This is what you want your life to be like, you decide. 

You want your family to be full of love and joy and you have fought so hard to get to this point. You've climbed your way out of a cold and distant household to make your own little corner in the world and right now you need to enjoy it instead of letting your mind be taken over by darkness and despair.

So, you set your coffee down and move to join your daughter and her father in front of the television, asking in a teasing voice, “So who is the blonde man again?”

tags:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare @mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @hunnybelha @

Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets 

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium 

@

two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04  @ astridstark13

#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock

[parrythisucasual]

What About Me? Ch. 1

___HERES THE STORY SO FAR!!! NOT BETA READ SORRYYYYY___

PAIRING- JAX X READER (ROMANTIC)

Something is wrong. This isn't right. You were just lying in bed, starting a new VR game. Where are you now? There’s… music playing. Chipper, happy music. And every single color is like your mom’s phone screen- full-on brightness. You blink a few times, staring around. There’s a group of people… But they aren't people, exactly. They seem more like children's toys.

You're suddenly feeling very, very overwhelmed. You can feel your body shaking as panic punches you hard in the gut. You’re going to scream, you're going to have a breakdown, you're going to- 

“Where am I?” Oh. Well, that wasn’t so bad. Until the motley group turns and looks at you. The fear only rises as a doll woman steps closer to you “Another one? But Pomni just got here last week…” You blink, utterly dumbfounded. She spoke to you. You can understand her.

“Who are you?” a second question makes its way past your lips, your mind searching desperately for some kind of clarity. “This one’s taking it pretty well. Unless you count the crying.” another voice piped up as a purple rabbit sauntered over, stopping right next to you, “at least they aren't screaming like someone did when she got here.” 

“Jax!” the doll snapped at the rabbit, “I’m sorry about him, he’s just a bully. I’m Ragatha.” she gently placed an arm over your shoulder, causing a small bit of relief to flood through you. Something grounding. “I know this is really scary and off-putting, but I promise you’ll be okay.”

“Except you can never leave.” Jax’s smile widened. Your heart dropped rather suddenly “N-never leave?” you asked, looking from Jax to Ragatha. “Afraid not, my dear!” a third voice, a rather loud one, came to your attention. You turned to see who this could be and almost jumped out of your skin.

A set of teeth with bulging eyes staring at you, hovering a few feet in the air, “Welcome to the Amazing Digital Circus! I’m your ringmaster, Caine!” he greeted enthusiastically, spreading his arms in a display of showmanship. You think you’ve had enough.

Reaching to your face, you try to pull the headset off. But… it's not there. It’s just your face. But it doesn't feel like your face. It feels like a soft silicone rubber, almost like the Gumby toy you’d had as a kid. “It’s not there!” you yelp, now simply holding your own head.

“It’s okay, I promise you’re okay,” Ragatha gently reached over and took your hands from your head, “Just take a breath, okay?” You nodded, taking a deep breath and relaxing a bit, “Why isn’t it here?”

“Who knows? You’re stuck either way, why bother thinkin’ about it?” Jax walked past you, shrugging. You can already feel a twinge of anger at this… man? Rabbit? You’re clearly terrified and he can’t bother being kind for one second? 

Oddly, that anger only serves to calm you more. You ignore him and turn back to Ragatha, “Okay. I’m stuck here… in the circus… we can’t leave. You’re Ragatha. That's Jax. That’s Caine,” you list your knowledge, nodding with each statement. A small smile spread across her face, “Exactly.”

Nodding, you glance to the other circus members “What about… them?” you ask. Ragatha points to each member “This is Zooble, that’s Gangle, there’s Pomni,” she gestures to a pile of pillows, “Kinger is in there.” You made a mental note of each, making sure to introduce yourself later.

“Ya know, it's kind of refreshing not having to deal with some crybaby freakin’ out on us,” Jax mused, waving a finger in your general direction. The anger twinged once more, and before you could stop it, a realtor shot from your lips, “It would be refreshing if you shut your mouth. Nobody wants to hear your opinion.”

Shock spread across his face momentarily, then he frowned “I don’t care what anybody wants to hear or not. I say whatever I want to.” Ragathe interrupted suddenly, “OKAY! Let’s not fight… Um, what did you say you wanted us to call you?”

“I didn’t say. I’m- uh… My name…” you couldn’t remember. Terror gripped your chest once more. You could see Jax smiling, and that only worsened it. They knew you wouldn’t know. You pressed the anger back. No fighting.

“Um… just… just call me (Y/N),” you spoke quickly, taking the name off the top of your head. With a nod, Ragatha smiled, “Alright. Well, welcome to the circus, (Y/N).” You couslnt help but return the grin. She was too kind, making you feel so welcome. 

“Why don’t I show you your bedroom, then?” she offered, “if you’d like me to?” “Sure,” you accepted, following her away from the group. You couldn’t help but notice Jax staring at you as you left. Something about his face made you feel off. You couldn't place it, maybe he was angry? But it didn’t feel like he was. Oh well. You could deal with that later. For now, you focused on getting to your room, getting settled, and simply taking in your situation. After all… you were here to stay, weren’t you?

______HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!! ANY IDEAS?? SUGGESTIONS??? COMMENT!!! WANT TO CHAT??? DM!!!!___________

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #jax #jax x reader #tadc jax #tadc jax x reader #tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus jax

[sunny-mercya]

Sensitive Heart

Poly! Billy Loomis & Stu Macher x Male Reader

Fandom -> Scream 1996

Requested by -> Anon

Masterlist

Sidney had become quick to learn, that you're a rather sensible—if not even overstimulated sensitive—boy.

Most things; be it a large crowd, people accidentally bumping into you or someone saying something you had difficulty to understand—hell, even the most mundane compliment; you look really good today—brought you to tears.

And on some days, wether if they are bad or good ones, you would cry for an eternality of hours—exhausting yourself with a sore throat sobbing.

Throughout the school years, you had spend more time in the nursery office thanks to this—whatever and however it's called, Sidney doesn't bother to remember—than being actually injured.

Tatum, who had heard from Stacy—and she had it being told from Mackenzie, who had gotten told it from Helena—the nurses daughter—told Sidney once, that your over sensitivity of personality has been coming from your mother.

Your mother who had pampered you into a suffocating and constant anxious panic. She was a kind soul, with her off shrugging absently affectionate, but treating you well still.

Although, when you were at the age of ten—having been in the hospital again, because of your mother—your father had enough, filled a divorce and complete custody over you and told his ex-wife to leave.

So now, Sidney had to endure your tears filled stuttering jumble of words while accompanying you, yet again, to the nurse office.

Please god, she thought, end me. Holding back a groan, simply nodding along to what you're trying to say. If she's telling you to shut up, you would probably cry a flood then.

~~~

The cold wet washcloth always felt good over your burning irritated eyes. Cooling them off and bringing a sort of pain relief to them.

Mrs. Westbrock had left the office, after assessing you down onto the bed and giving you a glass of water and headache-pills. Nothing new, a normal occurrence for you to be alone—till school hours ended—in the nurse office, when you had another rather server breakdown episode. Then again, every episode brought you to the office.

»Aww, at this point you should ask the Director to let you live rent-free here« Stu did his best to lower his voice, when stepping in. Knowing well how headache prone you would get and he also knows how loud his voice can be.

It must be lunch break or a free period or study all, otherwise Billy and Stu wouldn't be able to visit you. Then again, you wouldn't put it pass them to just skip a lesson or two—and you knew they had done already more than once.

»What was it this time babe?« asked Billy, sitting down onto the chair. Someone would say his tone, when asking you this question, is coming off as annoyed, rude and tutting. It wasn't. It was Billys way of asking you how you are and what the cause was.

You shrugged at him, rubbing your eyes and sitting up a bit—letting Stu prep kisses onto your face.

»I.....don't really remember anymore.«

Billy hummed, knowing well it was lie of you, watching you and Stu, the both of you conserving now over some Cartoon.

»Did Jules brought you here?«

»Nu-uh, it was Sydney,«

Billy nodded, they all were somewhat friends with Sidney, though somehow she always seemed to be irritated annoyed by your mere presence—not that you took notice if it, always busy to greet everyone happily, even when it was hard to do for you.

»[Name]. Tell us, what made you cry.« a bit demanding harsh he sounded, but how would he know if Billy didn't use a dominant force to bring you to speak.

»It, it–it was, someone talked about–about how killing is, is–is something and I got upset over it, because they talked so causally about it, but killing is–is–is bad and taking–taking a humans life is cruel«

You broke into another, new, round of tears. Sobbing into Stu's arms, who cooed at you lovely and giving you sloppy kisses on the cheeks again.

Oh, how innocent sweet you are. Thinking so naively and thoughtful about the world. Aren't you adorable?

~~~

It was weeks after, when Sidney came to the conclusion that the ominous masked—dubbed as Ghostface—killer, who tried to killer her, is Billy Loomis.

Sidney, when she got the chance, pulled you into an empty classroom, cornering you. Doing her best to look as threatening as she could, to make you confess.

She always found it strange how Billy (and Stu) could love someone like you—someone who's a crybaby, skittish and meek in personality. Too Sensitive for a boy to be.

But then she thought, you're the perfect alibi for Billy or perhaps even someone who knows that Billy is the murder.

»You know Billy is the killer, don't you [Name]?«

»What? What are you talking about Syd?«

»It's Sidney. Billy is the killer and you're either good at pretending to play clueless dumb, which you are though, or you're his partner. There aren't any other options.«

Sidney hated it how you pronounced her name so dumbly wrong. It's a simple name, how hard could it be to say it right? Apparently hard enough for you.

»Accusing someone, a friend even, of something so horrific is a cruel thing to do.«

»Oh? I didn't knew you could speak english without stuttering in sobbing.«

Your lips begun to wobble, biting softly onto them to stop the starting trembling—which would soon racked through your whole body. Eyes getting wet, tears ready to spill.

Sidney had no rights to accuse Billy like this and neither had she the right to be this mean to you. You hadn't done anything to make her upset, so why does she say such things?

She clicked her tongue in annoyance, gripping your arm tight when you were about to bold off.

»We both know I'm right. Whether you like it or not.«

You freed yourself from her, jerking your arm out of her grasp and bolting out of the room. At some point colliding with Jules, who was looking for you, scrambling up again and running even faster away.

A lie. It's a complete conspiracy bullshitting lie, what Sidney had said to you. It wasn't true, Billy isn't a killer.

~~~

»I'm home!« greeted Billy once he had open the front door and stepped in, closing if afterwards. Getting out of his jacket and hanging it up on, he made his way towards the kitchen.

Leaning against the frame of the kitchen-door, Billy watched you, smiling at the sight of you cooking today's lunch—dancing slightly to the music which the radio plays.

»You need help, darling?« he admits, spooking you up like this was—the way how you jerked together into surprise—always a fun thing to do.

»Oh, Billy! How was work? Sure sure, you can set the table and please get Stu« you pecked his lips, when he leaned down, snatching a piece of bacon from the cutting board.

»Where is he?«

»Upstairs, doing the laundry.« you had long returned to the cooking, resuming with what you had stopped.

Billy passed through the living room, stopping at the commode in the hallway, next to the stairs.

Photo frames over photos frames filled the commode, telling their own stories—from their graduation, first house, to marriage, to their honeymoon and then to their Kids and their first kindergarten and school day to the here and now.

There was one photo in particular, which both Stu and him are very found of. It still confuses the kids, who couldn't figure out why a photo of you crying was a found memory to keep and share.

To the kids they had told a story of how they always found it adorable, just how bunny like you were and wanted to capture the moment.

In truth though, it was the moment when the broke you—your spirit of will—and had you forever to love.

It was after Sidney had inflicted your pure heart with self-doubt and questionable unbelief towards Billy. You confronted him, breaking out in hysterical when Billy bluntly admits it with a shrug and when you were about to call the police—Stu stepped in, holding you tight in his arms as you trashed in his hold and shouting words at them you never wished to say again.

They had to break a few of your bones, scaring and threatening you completely in submissive—because if they don't, you wouldn't be able to continue with going to school with them and enjoy life, if they didn't had done it this way—they had to kill you and that would be a shame. After all you're their precious little darling.

It took a few years—after framing someone else for their killings and making Sidney an implausible witness in the polices eyes—to shape you into what your are now; a good submissive husband, who showers them in unconditionally love.

»[Name]'s adorable, isn't he Bills?« Stu trotted down the stairs, flashing a grin at Billy.

»You're right, he really is. I was just about to get you, laundry-boy«

»Funny, man. Urgh, my back hurts. I never do laundry again«

After lunch, when the kids had retired into their rooms or going out to spend time with friends. You and your husbands sat on the couch, cuddling against another and watching another round of romance movies.

Even after all these years, you couldn't stop your sensitivity and the spilling tears from your eyes.

Billy and Stu wouldn't have it any other way. They adored you how you are, in their eyes you're perfect.

»Have I told you, just how–how much I love–love you two?« you asked them in between sobs, romantic movies always made you so moody.

»You do plenty of times, precious. We love you just as much in return.«

Both Billy and Stu pressed a kiss against your lips, tasting your salty tears.

You're their little bunny.

#male reader #x male reader #fanfiction #malereader #oneshot #scream 1996 #scream x male reader #scream #poly! billy loomis & stu macher x male reader #billy x stu x male reader #poly! billy and stu x male reader #billy loomis x male reader #stu macher x male reader #stu macher #billy loomis

[tarjapearce]

Bad Teachings (Pt. 3)

Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

WARNINGS: Sexual language, Adult situations, mild fluff, relationship building, slow burn, mild fluff, Miguel being a sly mf.

Word Count: 5k

Pt. 4

If there was something that came on Miguel's mind to describe teaching life was chaotic. What initially started for shits and giggles, was soon consuming all of his time. Peter B. Parker, someone that reluctantly had earned a spot in his life, had convinced him that he was good enough to teach and that college was under staffed.

He wasn't wrong, however Miguel had underestimated how much of a headaches he'd be constantly having . Students cried for a second chance, some classes were a pain in his ass since half the students, female mostly made sure to always pull at his patience strings.

Something he was sure he ran out in those few semesters he worked teaching. And then sexual content started to appear in his institutional email, direct number. Sure some of the students were bolder than others, but mostly unremarkable.

It had turned more annoying than anything. He had changed his number twice, even changed his teaching methods to have a bit of peace. It worked for a semester, but it got back at him again. His blocked contacts list was bigger than his own true contact list. One of the reasons he turned even more strict.

He had to take some weeks off to rearrange personal matters, The administration department called in last minute for him to cover up Peter B. Parker the last couple weeks of the semester, due his wife being on maternity leave.

It was kinda surprising for him to find a few couple senior students in the class. You among them, grades excelling in mostly of the classes, theory and some workshops specially, but average in those that implied maths and of course his class. He chuckled at the thought that you would eventually would ask for his help.

He counted the days as he had noticed you making up your mind in whether approach or not. It took you a week to stay after class and finally ask him. For once someone wasn't ugly crying before him with a made up-last second excuse. He could see honesty in your eyes, and of course sleepless nights.

He could see how you refused to crumble before him, wich amused him to no end. Of course he had said no just to test your determination. Five extra was a measly thing you had asked for in comparison from other students. And when he found you at the library, about to breakdown, he had waltzed in like a savior, and you gladly took the chance like a heaven sent gift.

Your happiness suited your features, it made your cheeks rosy and you to look a bit more alive. He more than anyone understood the sacrifice that college implied. And for you, social life seemed the perfect tribute. He rarely saw you on the parties in the common area.

It wasn't like you were some sort of special snowflake, or not like the other girls, hell, he had also sacrificed the little social life he had when he was practically a few weeks away to finally finish college. You had your priorities set, and that was something he admired in someone.

His train of thoughts however stopped at the sight of you, leaning against the wall as you made out with a student that certainly was up to no good. Maybe you were celebrating a small victory in another class. Kissing seemed natural on you, your lips melded so well with the young man's. It was odd to see you acting like a carefree student.

And then the video happened. He was on his bed, ready to sleep when his phone chimed in with a new message. His eyes squinted upon reading the caption 'For your eyes only' as the video uploaded. Your name on the top made him swallow thick, he pressed play.

His eyes widened as the video kept going, he cleared his throat as the tightness in his sweatpants grew enough to trap his manhood. It was a side of you he never thought to be a witness off. Of course alcohol was the culprit of your mistakes, and the whole show you were giving.

You taking your slicked fingers to your mouth was the breaking point for him to replay it again, girth in hand. Disappointment disappearing with each stroke he gave himself, pumping at the rhythm of your moving hips. But it wasn't enough.

You avoided him like the pest itself, and as much as the thought of confront you about it sorta displayed, he didn't press the situation further. Your attempt to make things right merely had entertained him, but he mentally praised you for being sincere. His restrain for actually indulging on the power that you, without knowing had invested him in, was hard to keep.

He didn't know if you were actually teasing him or you seemed oblivious at everything, as you waltzed in with a suit that made him throb. His eyes drifted Ocassionally to the pair of thighs you had caged in a skirt that snugged your figure. Plump, supple that looked perfect as ear mufflers.

He wasn't blinded to your female charm (Something you didn't dwell too much in), he just wanted to see past that to see what kind of person was underneath  the outside.

You were stubborn to a certain level, kept your moral compass in check, persevering, attuned with what you wanted, ambitious, polite, a good girl. He felt terrible for such thoughts. Almost ashamed of himself. But once you granted him permission there was no turning back.

It all was way too tempting, too forbidden to ignore, not when he had the biggest moral proof before him. He failed miserably. You made him sin in a way he never thought on doing at his age. Never he had felt so empowered, so desired, so needed, so in control.

And then you left. You left him, or so he had thought. He seeked relief in others but it didn't sate the feeling. Something was off. But eventually he learned how to live with it. He quited college and returned to Alchemax.

A couple months later the universe seemed to listen as he released a breath upon seeing you, trying to reach for a cereal box. He couldn't help but wriggle an explanation on why you had been gone out of his radar for such a long time.

"I was robbed. Lost a bunch of information, including your contact."

He didn't see any hidden lies, just a feeling of contempt to see him again, among nervousness of course. He loved the way you flustered whenever he was too straight forward. Your charm and beauty had only increased, to his eyes. And when you showed up in his home, he'd be lying if he didn't want to take you right in the spot.

The feeling he had missed for a long time, returned. But contrary to the previous encounter, he wanted to savor each moment. Take the time to indulge you. Something that you weren't used to, evidently, by how fast you were drinking your share of wine and how rosey your cheeks grew with every gentle and complimenting word that came out his mouth

Endearing

The way your body reacted to him, gave him a new dose of what his body had ached for. Contact, warmth from something else that wasn't his hand. You never failed to amaze him at what he could provoke on you.

You were the first one in falling asleep. Unkempt hair sprawled all over his pristine beige pillows, absorbing his scent to be replaced by yours.

He couldn't help but to snap a picture in case his memory forgot such image of you in the new sea of stress approaching on his work. Waking up to find your back facing him made him chuckle as his eyes roamed your figure. You made sure to not trespass his own intimate space and remained on your side of the bed, tangled in his sheets.

Such vulnerability displayed before him made him smile with a bit of fondness, relax even. You trusted him enough to fall asleep on his own bed. He got up to prepare your reward, for gifting him such thing as your time. It had been a while since he ever woke up like this.

Gorgeous woman next to him, naked, a wonderful night spent, and a delicious breakfast to enjoy with the promise of a next time.

---------

After arriving from Miguel's home, you parked your car in it's usual spot and got through the elevator. A lady jumped in with you, holding a box with some kitchen gadgets, as she gave you a discreet look but smirked to herself

Of course she'd stare, your hair was damp, and you were dressed just like you had escaped from a millionaire's affair.

You pressed the third button, keys tinkering at the action.

"Good night, aye?" She mumbled, and your cheeks flared up. Her British accent chirping in the air. She was black, Her dreadlocks neatly combed in a large bun as some white strands poked out. She wore combat boots, black sweatpants and a large hoodie, her left wrist adorned with a mild studded leather bracelet.

You just cleared your throat, unable to look at her in the eye. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, she was the first one in leaving. She opened the door of the first apartment, some boxes littering the entrance. A tall, black, slender young man with the funkiest hair you'd ever seen, peeked out to retrieve the box from the lady's hands and then closed the door.

New neighbors

You followed at the end of the hall, and finally, the privacy of your apartment welcomed you. Going to your room, you immediately wiggled out of the dress and put on sweatpants and an oversized thick shirt. Then, blow dried your hair.

Just got home. Thanks for everything.

You pressed send to Miguel. The seen confirmation appeared in.

The little emoji made you smile.

----

Work had been the so ever good distraction through the week from your plaguing thoughts about certain grumpy-looking geneticist. Besides the always mind blown gut rearrangement you had from him, you had actually enjoyed his company.

The way he had treated you, listened intently at your storytelling about the robbing, and other mundane things, The way he was always calling you Hermosa in that smooth spanish-speaking voice, made your skin crawl. But there was something that didn't add up.

As your teacher, Miguel O'Hara was brutal, He took no shit from anyone, hated the class clowns, and his due dates were always respected. He didn't leave much homework but every assignment always costed a good chunk of the grade. So ever serious with a scowl on his face. Why he'd help you out was still a mystery even to you.

You had arrived to your dorm room soaked, Legs feeling like jelly, shivering from the pouring weather. It was as if the rain itself had washed away the remnants of your previous sins. For once you were glad your roomie stuck to her own business and didn't question anything. Just giggled mirthful at your current state.

You chuckled at the memory

After the graduation ceremony he had gone out of sight, despite you giving him a blowjob an hour ago, you wanted to properly thank him and bid your farewells. You spotted him talking to the Suma Cum Laude students' parents, as your own called to celebrate.

You didn't know anything of him but two months later, against all your reasoning as to why he'd keep you in his contacts, you got a text from him.

"Hey, princesa"

And things just snowballed from there. There was a pattern in his text you could figure out, the longest and spiciest conversations you had were around finals, probably he seeked relief from the constant stress he faced. You had sent him enticing photos, even got you a set of lace and tulle lingerie in lilac for him to see.

You had liked, a bit too much his attention, admittedly.

He had told you how he was being considered by the higher ups for a higher position in college. Then, you got robbed and lost all contact from him. Some numbers had been saved in the sim card instead of the cloud storage. His was in the sim card.

The phone was blocked and soon you got another one temporarily. Took you a couple of months to finally find a job an hour away from your parent's home. The first months on your own almost deterred your mental health since you were busy trying to furnish your apartment with the basics, paying rent, paying phone bills, and when you had what you considered enough, you started saving up for a car.

Your 27th birthday gift

And now, not only you had found him in the same isle in the supermarket, but the two dined and wined together, only to fuck to your hearts contempt later. And so a new dilemma was born. Would it be too much for you to ask him out for lunch?

Now that he had retired from teaching to go back to a super job for really smart people, it was like he was someone else entirely. He was flirty yet managed to keep his so ever serious composure, demanding within reason, quite the gentleman and polite, but he wouldn't hesitate to put anyone in their place or call out someone on their bs.

Paycheck was around the corner, and you could afford to splurge a little. Besides, you wanted to know why he had helped you among some other things you actually never had the chance to really speak about.

What's your favorite food?—

You sent the message, something you had debated ever since the morning you got to work. And almost four hours later he replied

—Not a picky eater, actually. Why?

You sighed as your fingers prepared to type but stopped as he was writing again

—Oh, you wanna take me out?

Your face flushed, as you dropped the phone to hide yourself in your hands. Thankful that he wasn't around to see your embarrassment.

Fuck.

Sighing, you gathered your bearings and typed.

Actually, yes. I do. —

—Cute. What's the catch?

Of course he is fucking clever.

No catch. Just us eating and catching up. —

—Thought we did that already?

Shit. Your heart gave a sudden twist and your lips pursed.

Of course it was too soon for that...

It's fine if you don't wanna. Truly. Just wanted to know a couple of things I never got the chance to ask. But never mind, Read you later . . —

With a sigh, you put the phone away, and kept working, trying to keep your mind busy from what it felt a blatant rejection. Your phone however, buzzed an hour later.

— Such drama. Where you wanna meet up?

You blinked a few times and did a double check on the number before typing. Almost feeling stupid.

Saturday at Magnolia's, 1 pm.—

-Make it at 2. Have some extra paperwork coming in.

Gotcha. See you then. —

He had agreed. Gulping down a squeal, you finished work and went home.

------

Usually, during the weeks you barely talked since work consumed each other's lives, It was mostly you spamming him with random things to either annoy him or make him laugh. He occasionally reacting to terrible science puns.

This weekend felt different, special even.

It's just lunch.

Your mind reprimanded you, as you were picking an outfit. You liked to dress up, mainly for yourself since your first post debt paycheck was splurged in clothes from a popular shop online, to change your old and borderline tomboy-ish closet.

You liked to think it was a post college sort of glow up. Exploring your own femininity ended up being fun. Fashion sense wasn't top notch but you made sure to always look good. Something your job required from you as well.

You decided for a pair of brown, high waisted pants, cream ankle boots, matching cream button shirt, and a brown gingham jacket. Along a white handbag. Some makeup, and perfume.

Clock ticked 1 pm, and soon you went out the door. You saw the same young man from before closing his own door, then heading for the elevator, you rushed to get in, he prevented the doors to close completely.

"Thanks."

He nodded your way.

You smiled up politely at him, Now that you actually had a proper look of him, You could see he had an assorted set of piercings in his face. You had wanted to pierce your ears some time ago, but due busy life the idea escaped.

"You new here?"

The young man nodded, a guitar on his back, hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket.

"The Boss' idea." His tone flat

You blinked at him

"Mum, I mean."

"Oh! Heh, well, hope you enjoy your stay. Neighbors stick to themselves mostly of the time but are willing to help if you need them. Just avoid the Karen in the 3C."

He chuckled

"Thanks for the tip, runway girl."

"(Name)"

"Hobie."

"Love your style"

"So do I" You both chuckled

"See ya."

You waved as he got off the elevator and you headed for the basement, to get your car.

----

You arrived fifteen minutes early, got seated near the balcony on the second floor, in the further table. You went for a rose lemonade in the meantime Miguel arrived and took a look at the menu. Your phone buzzed five minutes before two pm.

—Where are are you?

Second floor, balcony on the right. —

Minutes later he showed up, beige button shirt, rolled by his forearms, green vest snugging his torso, lenses on his face and green dress pants with a black belt. A white lab coat on his hands. He put a small briefcase in the lone chair and sat across you. You couldn't help but notice some women glancing his way, some discreetly, others unabashedly.

"Hello"

He grunted in response as he sat. He looked grumpier than usual.

"You ok?"

"Just tired."

"Right. Sorry to make you come here after work."

"You apologize too much."

He asked for a simple mint lemonade and rubbed his face.

"I wasn't sure to invite you actually."

"Being brave, are we?"

"I didn't want to look, uh... clingy or desperate."

He raised and eyebrow and chuckled

"Qué adorable"

"But, seeing you here makes me feel glad I did."

"Place looks nice. Some things have changed."

"Wait, you've been here?"

"Had a couple of work meetings before, and some dates too, steak is great."

You gulped and sipped your lemonade. His eyes were set on your form and the sudden, brief tension you went on due his words.

"Good dates, I hope"

He shrugged

"They could've been better. Anyways, you look good. As usual."

"Thanks" it was a bit too curt than you actually wanted it to be, but sighed.

"Well, how was work?"

"What do you wanted to know?" His tone impatient. Surely had been a difficult day on his end. It kinda made you guilty for inviting him over.

Awkward

You rubbed your neck, and tore your gaze away from him. The waiter brought his lemonade and you both ordered. A well done steak with veggies and mashed potatos for him, a mushroom soup for you.

He sighed quietly and straightened up. His frustrations sometimes got the best hold of him, and they lashed out as too straight forward questions or anger. Clearly it had bummed you a bit. You were just trying to have a good time with him. He was making it difficult. He rubbed his neck and looked at you.

"Guapa"

"I just wanted to know a couple of things, if that's ok. You can go after"

He frowned and rolled his eyes

"Kinda concerns me the type of men you're mingling with, if you think I'll leave you here alone and be an asshole about it ."

"Well, you aren't exactly the most patient man on earth. Plus you kinda look uncomfortable by being here."

"Let's just, start over ok?"

"Fine." you shrugged

"How are you?"

"Ok, I guess. It has been a busy week."

"Same. New projects need to be classified, everyone is depending on me, it's a mess."

"I bet. Did you missed that from this work?"

"Not really. Things would be easier if everyone would do their part.".

"I can relate. Team is good but there is always a few ones that rely too much on us."

"They think you're a good leader. That's why they depend on you."

"Not really, they're just lazy"

He chuckled and sipped his lemonade.

"What do you wanna know?"

"Uh, well, to starters, something I've been wondering for quite a while. Why did you decide to help me back then, on college?"

"Cause you deserved it."

"Oh?" you swallowed as your eyes fixed on him.

"I always checked on my student's records whenever I used to take on a new class. Most were unremarkable, but you tried your best. You had spark. And didn't cry when you needed help."

"So basically you helped me because you were impressed I didn't cry when I asked you for help?"

He snorted, the previous tension melting away

"No, I helped because you were honest and you gave your best till the end."

"And me thinking it was because we... eh, fucked in your car."

He smirked and shook his head

"Not really, that was a bonus. But no, you passing that class is entirely your doing"

Your cheeks burned a little at his praising. It made you feel better knowing that he actually had taken in count your efforts.

"Well, that leads me to a second question."

"Shoot it."

"What did you think when you got the video?"

He gave a low whistle and leaned back in his chair.

"Me gusta que no te andas con rodeos" he nodded with a smile "Well, in all honesty, I wasn't expecting it from you. Many other female students did send stuff, claiming it was accidentally. Thought it was another video of a student showing off her breast for me to see. But when I saw your name on it, and what you did on the video, Dios mío, something had to be done about it."

Nervously you sipped your drink.

"Did you, sleep with any other students before?"

"No. Not my thing really. Not before, neither after you."

You almost grinned and his eyes squinted

"What?"

"Nothing, just feel like a legend. Or I just got too carried away in the moment. Still debating on it."

He laughed softly

"What about teachers?"

"A couple, but nothing too serious."

Your eyes widened softly at him with a mischievous smile.

"Desperate times, huh?"

"Semantics. Do you regret it?"

"No. Sure, it took me by surprise when you made an advance, but no. I don't. How about you? Do you regret what you did?"

"Not a single bit. Or we wouldn't be here."

"Cheers for zero regrets, then." Your glasses clinked and his eyes softened at you.

"Anything else?"

"I actually wanted to say my farewells to you after the ceremony but you were busy. And as much as that one on one session in your classroom was... great, I wanted to be civil enough and thank you. You were a hell of a teacher. Kinda owe my current job to what you and Miss Lyla taught me actually."

Your smile genuine, his breath hitched at your honesty.

"Glad to help."

"Im not buttering you up or stuff, I mean, you were demanding as fuck, a bit too pushy but, It was worth it."

He took your hand and kissed it softly.

"Thanks."

"Now, I wanna know though, What you thought when I stopped replying?"

"That your morals had won you over and that you grew bored of texting me. We didn't talk much really, so it wasn't that much hard to process."

"I did everything I could to get your number back, plus I wasn't sure if you were still at college and I didn't want to compromise your reputation as a teacher."

He crossed his arms and glanced your way

"Bold of you to assume that I care what people think of me."

"It's odd. Just I saw you as my teacher for a time, and it's kinda hard to get rid of that title. I mean, I'm still getting used to call you by your name."

"You better be, guapa. Hate formalities once a line has been crossed"

"Is that so? What if I called you Miggy?"

"Por Dios, No. I'd block you"

You giggled, and soon food was brought.

"Thanks." you smiled at the waiter

"Enough on me though, anything new in your life, or something interesting that happened in this week?"

"Besides new neighbors and a new client for the team, not really. It's boring."

"New neighbors are good?"

"Reserved, but good. yeah. Although the lady's quite perceptive."

"Hm?" he munched on a chunk of meat

"She saw me in the elevator, after I got home. Walk of shame." He smirked

"And they're British. She was all 'Good night, aye?'"

He nearly choked but managed to laugh softly. A sound that made your stomach flip.

"Jesucristo..."

"And today I met her son. Cool looking guy. I'll take my guess and say he works either in a band or a tattoo shop."

"Sounds like a punk."

"Hey, be nice, you haven't even met him yet."

"Neither have you, for real. Anyone I should know about?" He started on his vegetables

Your head shook softly.

"Nope. I was too busy trying to survive on my own the first couple months. I mean sure I met a couple of guys but ended up being ghosted" You shrugged.

His phone buzzed and he groaned in annoyance.

"Hold on." He typed something quick and put the device on silent, before rubbing the bridge of his nose, exasperated.

"Everything alright?"

"Don't worry your pretty head over it."

"Not to be nosy or stuff, but you mentioned that you had extra paperwork incoming"

"Puras mamadas,but yeah."

"What do you have to do?"

"Classify, organize and divide archives."

"That sounds awfully alot like Office Automation."

He stared at you, curiously.

"W-What? Miss Lyla gave me that class. It's also part of my job actually." you gulped, "I was one of the top three. So if there's anything I can help with, count me in."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean, You could send me the files so I can work on them at home-"

"That I can't do, some are confidential."

"Ok, uh, what about you give me the disclosed ones, and you work on the confidentials?"

His eyes bore into you, but then he huffed.

" What about tomorrow? "

"You have a due date?"

"Tuesday. But the longer ones are halfway done."

"Do you want me to help tomorrow? We can meet up at your place so you can explain me and do corrections if needed. I'll bring my laptop."

His eyes softened and smiled little.

"Sure, but I can't guarantee you that there will be breaks for fun time."

Your eyebrows raised as you blinked, cheeks flushing

"I-I wasn't planning on it, actually. I promise."

"Eso veremos"

"What?"

"Nothing. Tomorrow then."

"Of course. " You smiled and indulged your food.

-----

"Thanks for the lunch, hermosa"

"Anytime. I'm glad you enjoyed. And thanks for being honest."

"Tu compañía es muy grata, no tienes nada que agradecerme."

You blinked confused

"Uh, What?"

"Nothing" He pinched your cheek softly with a knowing yet lazy smile.

"In any case, I'll let you know the hour for us to meet up"

"Ok. Sure See you."

He opened the door for you and took your hand in his once more, to give a small kiss on it.

"Have a good evening" Your cheeks heated bashfully and you got into the car. You could see his smirk growing as he closed the door and you drove off.

He had a good time as well, your hand's warmth remained on his. He sighed, a new test for him approaching.

"Dame fuerzas para mañana" he mumbled to himself as he made his way towards his car.

------

Qué adorable - How adorable

Me gusta que no te andas con rodeos - I like your straightforwardness.

Dios mío- My God

Por Dios, No. - Oh god, no.

Jesucristo - Jesus Christ

Puras mamadas - Pure bullshit

Eso veremos - We'll see

Tu compañía es muy grata, no tienes nada que agradecerme. - Your company is enjoyable, you've got nothing to thank me for.

Dame fuerzas para mañana - Give strength for tomorrow.

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

Hope you liked! Still kinda nervous about this chapter. Going from absolute filth to the start of something deeper is sure a challenge. Thank you for reading <3. If you wanna be on the tag list for future works lemme know!.

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #x reader #female reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara fanfiction #slow burn #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fluff #mild fluff

[kelppsstuff]

Can you perhaps write an Adam x reader where the reader is extremely insecure about their looks and thinks they'll never be truly attractive and he comforts them after catching them in the middle of a breakdown ....... Thank you so much I love your work ♥️♥️

Divine

Summary: when your insecurities get the best of you Adam is there

F!Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: depression, depressive thoughts, making love, panic attack

Taglist: @fandomsbookclub @adamsfavoritesinner @leathesimp @mmichelleszn @sashaphantomhive @ladyninggs @sirenetheblogger @jawline-of-steel

You always were one to never feel confident in your own body. Even when you were alive. You were beyond surprised when the first man told you he wanted you, and even more surprised when you started dating.

You were a relatively high ranking angel, most people respected you. You were kind, compassionate, caring, and most of all, you were down to earth, or well heaven.

However even in your after life those thoughts followed you. Making you question everything about yourself.

The questions started small.

Were you too tall? Were you too short? Should you have long or short hair?

Then they began to form into something more.

Were you eat too much? Too less? Were your boobs big enough? Was your ass too big? What made you deserve Adam? Why are you even here?

You never told anyone about said thoughts. Heaven wasn’t a place of insecurity. Everyone was “hot” as saint peter like to put it, so no one really talked about their problems.

You tired hard to appear perfect. Always going the extra mile for something, for someone.

—

You walked around your home, glass of wine in your hand. You made a sudden stop however as you caught a glimpse of your reflection in one of the mirrors in your home.

You took another sip to try and stop the incoming thoughts, however it did no good.

Do you really think Adam wants you? It’s all a joke to him. You don’t deserve him, look at you.

Tears started to form in your eyes, tears of sadness filling eyes of rage.

You screamed out in frustration and threw the wine glass to the mirror. The glass shattered and red stained your white walls.

The thoughts stopped, finally a moment of peace, but it did not last. The came back stronger than before.

You grabbed one of your fire pokers and started to hit your glass cabinets. Throwing every thing you could find against the walls.

You didn’t find clarity though.

You slid down the walls while the tears slid down your face. “Just leave me alone!” You cried out to the empty room.

Now you’re throwing a fit? Get over yourself, god you’re pathetic.

You didn’t hear the door open, you couldn’t get out of your head. You didn’t hear footsteps crunching on the glass around you, it was blocked out by your crying.

You only focused back when Adam placed his arms around you and slightly shook the two of you.

“What’s the matter baby?” His voice was unusually soft, and it was delicate.

“I want the mirrors gone.” You begged to him. He pulled your head away from his chest and made you look up at him. “Then how would you see your beautiful face?”

You scoff out, “what a funny joke.” Your voice was bitter, and your throat was raw. The tears had finally stopped, but they still stained your face and your lashes were soaking.

“Funny of you to think I’m joking. Talk to me baby.” He noticed your insecurities to an extent. Adam wasn’t one to be too aware of mental struggles — even if he has some of his own — but he noticed things about you.

He would notice how you would always try and hide your stomach. How you would sometimes get lost in though while grabbing your thighs. He would notice how you never wanted him to go down on you even though you would blow him off. He would notice your long looks in the mirror and the distance face you had.

He would try and help. Telling how how hot he found you every time he saw you. He would always praise you. It wasn’t enough, he knew that but he wanted you to come to him about this first.

He didn’t want to upset you more with confrontation.

“I’m so ugly! I don’t know why you’re still with me! I’m an embarrassment for you. You’re too good for me.”

Adam brushed away your tears with his lips. Silently listening. This was your moment to get everything off your chest.

“I’m not smart, I’m not even that pretty.” You scoffed and looked away from Adam, “Lute would be a better partner than me.”

Adam pulled your face back to him. “You have no idea just how wrong you are. You are heaven itself. This place was hell until you.”

“You’re not an embarrassment, I’m so proud to have you on my arm. You’re so intelligent that you make god look stupid. Don’t even get me started on your beauty.”

“I love every part of you. I love every inch of skin you have. You’re so pretty baby and I love you so much it hurts that I can’t express how much I truly do. And I cannot wait until the day that I see you walking down that isle in white.”

You smiled at Adam, it would take time to fully believe him, but right now he made you happy. It had been a long time since the thoughts were gone and it was just the two of you.

“Thank you, Adam.”

Adam placed a kiss your lips and reluctantly backed away. “Don’t thank me baby. Here’s what I want you to do. I want you to go out have a spa day, go shopping, get all dolled up and when you get back I’ll have a surprise for you.”

You nodded your head and Adam kissed you all over your face leaving giggles to flea from your mouth. God you drive him crazy, in the best way.

—

You got your nails done, even gotten your hair styled, and you went to the mall to get new jewelry and a dress.

By the time you got home and walked brought the door all the glass and everything was cleaned up.

Another thing you noticed was the rose petals making a path to your room while music played out. The closer your got to the room the louder you heard the song.

You opened the door and there Adam stood. In a suit, maskless, while holding up a rose to you.

Adam could feel his heart stop. He looked you up and down and he knew that he would love you for the rest of his immortal life.

“You look…” and felt like he couldn’t breathe, you were simply, “divine.”

Red rushed to your cheeks as you walked closer to him, taking the rose. You wrapped your arms around his neck and looked around.

Candles were lit all over the room and you noticed he put a table in here that had your favorite food and wine. You looked to the left and noticed the bed was filled with rose petals just like the table.

The candles reflected against your skin and Adam knew that this was the moment, he couldn’t wait a second longer.

“Marry me.”

You snapped your head up to him, “what?”

Adam dropped your arms to his hands and he started to get onto hid knee. “I’ve lived in Heaven longer than I can remember, but it wasn’t Heaven until you. I have had two wives and yet it was you who taught me how to love.”

Adam pulled out a ring box from his jacket and opened revealing your dream ring. It was breathtaking.

“I was trapped in a marriage twice, and I don’t want you to think of this as a trap. When I ask you to marry me I’m asking for you to let me worship you. Let me wake up beside you every single day. Let me try and show just how deep my love for you goes, even though it’s impossible because I simply have too much of it to show. So I ask you. Will you marry me?”

A smile broke on your face and you dropped to you knees bringing him to a kiss. You put your hand to his cheek while he wrapped his arms around you.

You kissed all over his face saying yes a million times. Adam face was full of love and happiness as he placed the ring onto your finger.

You looked at him and placed your forehead against his, “never let me go.” You whispered.

“Never.” He promised.

He picked you up and carried you to the bed, kissing you along the way.

When he dropped you to the edge of the bed you immediately went to his belt but he pushed your hands away.

He dropped to his knees and pushed your back to the bed. “This night is all about you, honey.”

You were nervous yet excited.

He undid your heels, slightly rubbing your sore feet before his hands trailed up your thighs. “Lift your hips baby.”

You flushed pink, Adam said Vulgar things all the time but that would play a repeat in your head for days, hell eternity to come.

You did as he said and he pushed your dress up while pulling down your panties, stuffing them in his pockets.

He brought his lips to your own, and gave your heat a little kiss. Your little moan let him knew just how eager you truly are, along with the slickness along your folds.

He grabbed your legs and placed them on his shoulder, slightly angling your hips upwards.

He gave you a long lick, loving the taste of you. He wanted more, no needed more, he needed to taste you more.

He gave you more licks and suck before rubbing your clit while putting his tongue to use but pushing it past your folds and into your walls.

You could feel pressure in your stomach begging to be release, you were quite familiar of this feeling.

“Adam, I’m oh god, I’m going to cum.”

Adam paced quicken, desperate to have you gush on his tongue and gush you did. You poured onto him, crying out in pleasure. Adam didn’t let a single drop past him.

When you finally were finished riding out your high Adam climbed over you. A sight it was.

He ran a hand down his hair, his tie loose, your fluids over his face and a hungry look in his eyes. You made sure to engrave that memory in your head. You pushed off his suit jacket while he worked on his belt and shoes.

Adam ripped open your dress causing you to whine, “that was expensive!”

Adam started to kiss up your neck and to your ear, his low raspy voice right over it. “I’ll buy you ten more.” His breath blew over the curvature of your ear making your yearn for him.

You ripped open his shirt, buttons flying everywhere as you gave him begging eyes with a sweet voice to accompany it. “Please my love.”

“How can I refuse someone as pretty as you.”

You believe him, you felt pretty, you felt loved, you felt worshipped, you felt enough.

Adam pushed down his pants and lined himself up to your entrance. He slowly started to push into your slick walls, leaning down over you breathing heavy, matching yours.

When he finally bottomed out he had to take a moment to stop. You were so tight and you were squeezing him so nice.

In the very low of your stomach you could feel a tiny bulge.

He took you hand hand placed it over your lower stomach. “You feel me baby? You feel what you do to me? Only you could make me like this.”

“I love you Adam.” He placed a soft kiss on your soft lips, “not as much as I love you.”

Before you could deny it he thrusted up into you. Suddenly your ‘impossible’ turned into “don’t stop.”

“I won’t baby.”

He kept his word. He kept it slow and you didn’t ask for him to go faster. His thrust was hard and it his the exactly spot that he knew would make you tick.

He started to rub your clit, whispering praises in your ear and then suddenly you could feel yourself pulsing around him.

With you tightening Adam’s own release pushed deep into. Painting your walls white.

When you both came down from your highs he pulled out and made you two a bath.

While the two of you soak and nipped your ear and joke, “looks like I skipped dinner and went straight to dessert.” You giggled and splashed him.

The two of you went silent for a moment, just admiring the other. “I love you.” You both said.

Adam was truly happy.

You were truly happy.

Any problems that would happen you two would face them, together.

AHHHHH

Okay so let’s talk!

I’m so happy I wrote this! You have no idea, while writing this it felt like a piece of me healing.

If anyone is struggling I want you to know you’re not alone! There are others out there and I don’t mean that as a way to down play you, I mean that in a way they people understand and people will listen.

Don’t struggle alone there is always a door open and each and every person alive is beautiful and truly amazing and there is always someone something that loves you!

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