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greatooglymooglyyy · 16 days

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It's Never Over (C. S.)

contains: 2nd person pov, angst, somewhat toxic relationship, verbal argument, relationship issues, kissing, smut (softdom!chris), overstimulation, angry/make up sex, unprotected sex, 3.4k words

a/n: hi friends. this is apart of the triple threat event sooo don't forget to go see my babies @luv4kozume and @rootbeerworshiper for two more fics for your smutty needs. j will be posting in one hour and sienna is an hour after that.

masterlist

Maybe we’re too young.

The thought bounces around your head uncontrollably as you watch Chris move silently through the kitchen from your perch on the counter. You haven’t been home long- maybe 10 minutes- but after the day you’ve had, the silence feels like a jab.

“So,” you start, raising your eyebrow as he pulls out a drink and leans against the counter across from you. “How do you think the pictures will turn out?”

He gives you a tired look, seemingly trying to gauge whether your question is a trap. “I actually really fucked with it. It’s a new look for us.”

You two had spent the entire day on the set of a photo and promo shoot for Fresh Love’s new line of products. He was right about it being a new look and he’d gone all out for the launch; the shoot had been completely 90s-themed to match the vibe of the products and he’d recruited some influencers to model.

Not that you were keeping track or anything, but the original idea had been yours and you’d put countless hours in helping him execute it. That isn’t to say you minded at all... at least not until today.

“I’m glad it’s exactly how you envisioned it.” You say, testing the waters unsure if you wanted to raise the issue again.

But Chris takes the bait and groans. “Don’t start.”

“I didn’t even say anything, Chris. But I just don’t understand why my input stops being taken seriously as soon as other people are around.”

“Did you ever stop and consider that maybe my photoshoot wasn’t the place for you to start a random ass argument?”

“I wasn’t trying to start one. And my bad, I didn’t realize you stopped being my boyfriend when you walked on a set.” Your eyes narrow as you stare him down, irritation at the situation resurfacing.

He sighs heavily, running a hand over his face. “I don’t but it’d be cool if my girlfriend supported me on days like this instead of adding more stress.”

Your eyes grow wide and you look around dramatically. “I’m sorry? Is that not all I do? Planning with you. Pitching ideas. Running around finding any little thing I can do to help? You wouldn’t even have the new product ideas without me.”

He throws his hands up in surrender, pushing off the counter and stepping closer. “And I’m grateful, baby. You know I am. I’m not saying you’re not important to me. I’m saying it can’t always be about you.”

“Can it sometimes be about me?” You question, feeling like you’re losing your mind. “I would never have an entire photoshoot full of influencers and not even ask you to join. Do you know how embarrassing that was?”

“Oh my-” He laughs out harshly, turning away for a second and then turning back. “I knew that’s what this was about. The team wanted people with over a million, not me-”

“And who owns Fresh Love, Chris? Don’t act like you have no control.”

“I own it, but it’s not just me who runs it. How stupid would I be if I hired a marketing team and didn't fucking listen to them?” His voice raises slightly and he shakes his head, attempting to regain composure.

“Probably as stupid as I looked pulling up to the set and looking for hair and makeup. You should have told me.” With that you slide off of the counter, intending to let the argument die there and go to bed but he follows behind you.

“How are you mad at me because you assumed you were modeling? I never said that. I invited you to the set like I do every time because You. Are. My. Girlfriend.” He claps to emphasize his points and you spin to glare at him.

“I’m not just your girlfriend, Chris. I work hard on my content just like you.” You say defensively. The decision to even begin posting was his idea so you can’t believe how unsupported you feel.

“And I'm so proud of you. You know I am.” He says with sincerity, bringing a hand to his chest. “But you aren’t..." His sentence trails off and he gives you an uncomfortable look.

“What?” You challenge, knowing exactly where this is going. “Say it. Tell me how little I matter since I haven’t hit the right numbers yet.”

He rolls his eyes and looks up at the ceiling. “It’s business. And they asked for people with reach. What did you want me to do?”

“Fight for me, Chris. That’s what I expected you to do.” You turn and head over to your dresser, snatching out your favorite oversized t-shirt and changing quickly.

Chris leans against the door frame with his arms crossed, watching you intensely until you finally face him with a scowl. “Stop following me.”

“I just can’t believe this is how you want to end this night. Why can’t you celebrate this win with me?” He asks, annoyance coating his tone.

“Go celebrate with Brooke. You two looked comfy today.” You suggest as you pass him to head into the bathroom.

Behind you, he barks out a laugh of disbelief before whispering something under his breath. You don’t even bother asking him to speak up, grabbing your makeup remover instead.

“So what’s that supposed to mean, huh? You're gonna start throwing accusations at me now?” He sounds absolutely over the conversation but won’t walk away to cool off. It’s a flaw you have in common.

“Just saying Addison has twice the followers as her but somehow you put her centerstage. I mean, I thought this was a numbers game.” You say, refusing to look over at him as you lather your face wash.

If you’re being completely honest, it’s not like you actually believe Chris would ever cheat on you. One thing Chris has always been is loyal to a fault. But right now you're itching for a reaction. No matter how you have to get it.

“You have to be fucking kidding.” He says, reacting exactly like you expected him to. “When the fuck would I be cheating on you?”

“How am I supposed to know? People make time for what’s important to them.” You say, letting your voice take on a nonchalant tone as you pat your face dry.

“That’s so fucking stupid and you know it. Look, I’m sorry you’re not where you want to be in your career but don’t take it out on me.” He grinds out, his voice thick with distaste.

You spin to face him, your eyebrows high. There it is. At least he finally said it. “Wow, Chris. Tell me how you really feel.”

“Y/N.” He says, rubbing his eyes roughly. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Do you think I could buy a shoutout, Mr. Six Mill? Only if you have time, of course.” You drawl, pressing your hands together into a begging gesture.

“Tell me what you want to hear, baby. Tell me what I need to say to end this conversation.” He says, stepping toward you but you take a step back instead, leaning against the sink.

“How about an apology? How about recognizing that I worked hard on this launch too and deserved to be a part of it? Anything except this condescending bullshit.”

He drops to his knees dramatically, looking up at you with a faux pleading look on his face. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. Please forgive me.”

You shake your head and curl your lip up in disgust. “Yeah. ‘Cause everything’s a joke, right?”

Chris blows out a huff of irritation and stands up, reaching out to wrap his arms around you and spinning you around to face the mirror. He presses himself into your back and meets your eye in the reflection as he runs his hands up and down your body. “Aren’t you tired of arguing yet?”

Your gaze drops to his hands, watching as he slowly and methodically slides up your oversized t-shirt and rubs teasingly at your inner thighs.

"You know I love you." He whispers, his grip tightening as he trails higher, grazing your heat before dipping his hands back down.

“Do you?” You question childishly, heat flooding your body as his hands travel your skin. He leans in close, the cool breath of his words sending a shiver down your spine. “Let me prove how much.”

Part of you wants to snatch away from him and refuse to reward his arrogance. But there is something so erotic about the way his eyes stay locked on yours as he moves in closer to where you need him most. Without your permission your body melts into his, the muscle memory from every other time he’s made you feel this way activating naturally.

You turn your head to look at him full-on instead of the reflection, the slight flush on his face from the arguing turning you on even more. “Nah. Prove how much you need me.”

If Chris is at all surprised by your demand, he doesn’t show it. He just walks you closer to the sink and spins you around by the waist to face him. His blue eyes are so coated with lust and frustration they seem almost brown under the harsh bathroom lighting.

He lifts you onto the counter, pausing only for the barest of seconds before crashing his lips against yours. The sudden movement pushes the back of your head into the mirror but you barely feel it over the heat and pressure of his kiss.

His hand travels under your shirt, his fingertips grazing your nipple with a frustratingly delicate touch that has you groaning into his mouth. You pull away, drawing a shudder out of him when you lightly nip his bottom lip as you do.

“Stop wasting my time.” You demand, your hands fiddling with the bottom of his shirt in a hint for him to take it off.

He does with a roll of his eyes before he comes back, placing a firm hand on the back of your neck and bringing you closer. “You can drop the attitude now. You know you want this just as much as I do.”

Pain flashes through you again briefly as you consider the possibility that this is the only thing you two will ever agree on wanting but you push it down and lean in to run a tongue over his collarbone. “Shut up and prove it like you said you would.”

A smirk grows across his face before he nods and kneels down slowly, pushing open your legs and roughly snatching off your thin underwear. Pushing your legs open wider, he buries his face in your inner thighs and peppers lingering kisses on them as he trails closer to your heat.

When he finally reaches it, it’s clear he’s not done taking his time as he runs his tongue through your folds purposefully avoiding where you want him most. You push at his shoulders in annoyance and he chuckles darkly, only making your wetness grow despite yourself.

The first kiss he places on your clit is slow and shallow before he leans back to find your eyes. “I always forget how fucking pretty you are.” He says as he smooths a thumb over you before diving back in with a new urgency.

There’s reverence in the way his tongue circles your clit, the movements somehow both precise and desperate. Before you even realize what you’re doing, you find yourself grinding your hips up to chase your pleasure, pathetic whimpers falling from your lips.

You don’t need to glance down to feel his eyes on you, baby blue and laser-focused as he peers up to gauge your reaction, alternating expertly between sucking and flicking his tongue. But instead of giving him the reaction he wants, you press your fist into your mouth and work to keep your face a mask. You’re determined to grant him as little praise as possible, leftover anger spurring on your pettiness.

Smiling against your core at the challenge, he readjusts his hold on you, slinging one of your legs lazily onto his shoulder before locking his arms around your thighs to keep you still. He pulls fully away and you finally snap your eyes to his, a protest on the tip of your tongue.

“I can do this all night and still make sure you never come. Stop playing with me.” His voice is like velvet as he warns you, not even pausing for your response before he buries himself back in. He taps your leg, signaling for you to hold it before he readjusts to add his fingers, swirling them around teasingly before pumping them inside to stretch you out.

All of your pride flies out the window as he fucks into you with his fingers, finding your g spot easily and caressing it. Flinging your head from side to side and calling his name wildly, you feel a familiar pressure building inside of you. “Please, Chris.” You beg as you tangle your hands into his hair.

His pace only increases when he realizes you are close, his moans against your clit sending vibrations through your body and driving you even crazier. You tug his hair lightly as your body tightens and grind your hips against his fingers to ride out your orgasm.

Chris pauses and removes his fingers slowly before placing one last kiss on your throbbing heat. He comes up with his breathing unsteady and a look of pure triumph on his face as he sucks his fingers into his mouth.

Your legs are still trembling slightly as you slide off of the counter and pull his face down to yours. This kiss feels different, like coming home, and you can tell he feels the same. He kisses you back like he loves you like the taste of you is air and he’s suffocating.

It’s been a while since you two were desperate enough to leave marks on each other’s skin but he does tonight. And you let him without a single thought to the effort of covering them up, too focused on his tongue working over the sweet spots of your neck.

You reach down fumbling with his belt impatiently as your breathing goes ragged, and free his hardened length, stroking it slowly.

His lips freeze on your throat as he thrusts into your hand before he yanks away and spins you back around, pressing his palm into your back and kicking your feet apart to give him access.

You feel his tip nudge against your entrance, slipping down further to tease your clit briefly, your only warning before he slides inside of you. A cry tears out of you as he rolls his hips into yours, bottoming out.

You’re still soaked from your orgasm but as he stretches you out around him, you feel yourself coat him even more and he groans. “My pretty girl. Best fucking feeling in the world.” He pushes your shirt further up your back, his fingertips trailing your spine lightly as he continues to thrust into you.

Squirming with a need for him to go faster, you push your hips up to meet his, forcing him deeper and making you both curse. He takes the hint, wrapping his hand tightly around your shirt for leverage before setting a brutal rough pace.

Your vision starts to blur so you close them as you try to hold on to the counter for stability. With your eyes squeezed tightly closed, it’s almost easy to pretend the tears swelling up are from the intensity of the moment and not from everything that came before.

Because it’s nothing if not intense, your stomach pressing into the sink as he slams inside of you roughly. His free hand grips the counter so hard his knuckles turn white and he keeps up his insane pace. His name slips from your mouth as a moan, seeming to spur him on as he increases his tempo even more.

“That’s right, baby. What’s my name?” The sound of his voice barely breaks through your fucked out trance and you lift your head to see him through the mirror.

The sight of him almost pushes you right over the edge immediately and you watch him in a sort of fascination. The way his muscles strain with his movement, his slightly open mouth before he bites down on his bottom lip. But it’s the wink he throws you when he notices you watching that has you contracting around him for the second time tonight.

This orgasm tears through you like a wave and you lose all control as Chris fucks you through it, never missing a stroke. If you had it in you to be embarrassed right now, you would be mortified at the things you say at this moment. Making promises, calling him names you never thought you’d utter, telling him exactly who you belong to.

When you come down, Chris’ pace slows and he pulls you up to face him. He watches you tenderly before he lifts the shirt from over your head and kisses you deeply.

He leads you to your bedroom and lays you down at the center of the bed, climbing on top of you slowly.

He enters you again with a gasp and you bring your mouth up to his to swallow it, his hand traveling up to lightly circle your neck. You moan in contentment and he makes a sound of approval from the back of his throat as he begins to thrust.

His strokes are slow and as deep as he can make them, his hands roaming your body as his tongue explores your mouth. There’s emotion laced in every snap of his hip and you know him well enough to understand every message. I love you. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.

Pleasure coils around you as his thumb finds your clit and circles it, coaxing you closer to the finish line as he drops his head near your ear. His hips stuttering tell you he’s close and you bring your mouth up to his ear to whisper. “Come for me.”

He groans loudly in response, fighting not to lose control yet. “You first.”

“I already did!”

“I don’t care. Give me one more.”

At his words, he pulls himself up and angles himself deeper, finding your g spot and plowing into it mercilessly. You drag your nails down his back, yours arching up off the bed. “Chris, I can’t.”

He shushes you softly, his lips claiming yours again as he continues to push into you. Ultimately it’s his muffled moan of “fuck” against your mouth that sends you over the edge, your face screwed up from an erotic mix of ecstasy and exhaustion.

You know you can’t take much more but Chris follows right behind you, dropping his head on your shoulder and moaning your name into it.

You lay there breathing heavily, skin to skin, for a while before you tap his back and he slides out of you. Awkwardness settles between you, so thick you’re not sure what to do with it so you stand wordlessly and head for a shower.

Your thoughts race as you scrub the remnants of him off your skin. The words you threw back and forth play on repeat in your brain as you wonder how to fix what’s between you before it’s too late.

The bathroom door opens and you watch through the streamy glass as Chris settles on the counter. The same counter he had you bent over not long ago.

You step out of the shower and grab your robe, all the while avoiding his eye contact. This is the part you hate the most. The part that never ends. Because neither of you knows how to force it to end.

He clears his throat, gesturing for you to come to him when you finally meet his eyes. Once you are standing between his legs, he pushes your wet hair out of your face gently as he studies your face. “You know how much you mean to me, don’t you?”

The nod you give is reluctant and slow. It’s never been a question of if Chris loves you. Just a question of whether he appreciates you.

But he continues this time, his eyes holding a fierce sort of intensity. “I’d give this all up for us if I had to. My whole platform if it means I can wake up next to you.”

Your breath hitches at this and you feel the tears threatening to fall so you bury your face in his shoulder, letting him pull your body into his.

And you hope. Hope that his words are more than just words. Hope that you’re not too young to keep each other from slipping between your fingers.

A/N: thanks so much for reading my loves. don't forget to head over to my girl @luv4kozume's page in exactly one hour for her new matt smut. 🗣️

🏷️/ @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @mrsmiagreer @asturniolos @teapartyprincess4two @whicked-hazlatwhore @sukiipjs @fratbrochrisgf @sturniolosmind @imfromthediningtable @st4rswrld @thvvluvr @sturnssmuts @littlenerdybee @sturniolossss @iloveneilperry @eclipzw @chrissloverrrrrrr16 @sstvrnioloo @clemlament @maryx2xx @fwskullz

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cheesesoda · 10 months

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resident evil men as parents!

a/n: i had this idea randomly so i wanted to write some headcanons 💪 lmk if you wanna see the girls as parents! (i might edit these headcanons and add more later too)

cw: slight mention of smoking and alcohol

genre: fluff, headcanons/blurb

______________________________________________

leon kennedy

leon is a girl dad!

cried when she was born

from when she was born until age 1 he would just go into her room at night and watch her sleep

he spoils her fr

youll come home late from work (well past her bedtime)

there they are making ice cream sundaes in the kitchen

he participates in tea parties and he enjoys it

he tells even MORE dad jokes now

very protective

tries to drink less after his daughter is born

chris redfield

chris is a girl and boy dad!

i think he has 1 boy (older) and 1 girl (younger)

like him and claire

was in awe when his kids were born

“oh my god she/he’s so small”

auntie claire babysits all the time

teaches his son to play football

honestly i think he’d be protective of his daughter but not as much as the others because he would teach her self defense from a young age

ethan winters

ethan is a girl dad! (which we already knew)

we already know what hes like as a dad but i’ll still write a bit for him

100% cried so hard when his daughter was born

best husband and father

definitely bought every brand of diapers because he didnt know what to get

hes very affectionate and caring to his daughter

i don’t see him as the type of dad to kill any guy who speaks to her once shes older

if someone breaks her heart tho mans just might kill

albert wesker

wesker is a boy dad!

very calm when he was born

not very affectionate

he does care he just doesn’t show it very well

luis sera

luis is a girl and boy dad!

i think he’d have 2 or 3 kids

if he had 2 kids, he’d have 1 girl (older) and 1 boy (younger)

if he had 3 kids, he’d have 2 girls (oldest & youngest) and 1 boy (middle)

definitely sets a very high bar for how his daughter/s should be treated

teaches his son to be a gentleman definitely

loves all his kids so much

smokes less after his kids are born and would rather die than expose them to cigarette smoke especially when they’re babies

carlos oliveira

carlos is a girl and boy dad!

you cannot tell me this man does not want a village of children

he would probably have 4 kids

i think he’d have 3 boys and 1 girl

has the biggest soft spot for his kids

he’s very non-toxic masculine with his sons

he always tells them he loves them, hugs them, etc.

he also has tea parties with his daughter

#resident evil #leon kennedy #chris redfield #ethan winters #luis sera #carlos oliveira #albert wesker #leon kennedy x reader #ethan winters x reader #chris redfield x reader #luis sera x reader #carlos oliveria x reader #albert wesker x reader #resident evil headcanons #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy

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sunfyresrider · 9 months

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ミ♥︎OUR LAST SUMMER | NETEYAM SULI

❥Summary: You were never allowed to leave the lab, especially to venture off into the forest. However, one day you get a extreme urge to go to the river and that’s where you met him. The man who would surely be your downfall. ❥Word Count: 8k ❥Tags: obsessive tendencies, love struck Neteyam, mild manipulation, jealous!neteyam, interspecies relationship, wingman!Lo’ak, smut, fingering, oral, p n v, choking (slightly), mild angst. Am I missing anything? Lmk! ❥Author’s Note: This can be seen as a part one to a future fic of mine ‘Mated for Life’. S/O to me for finally remembering to add a word count LMAO. This is inspired by an older fic of mine so I’m kinda copyrighting myself😎

Neteyam knew from a young age everything would fall on his shoulders, that all the responsibilities of an adult would be his to bear. It made him pretty fucking miserable to be honest, but he would never let it show. It made him a better person in many ways, a better son, a better warrior, and a great brother. It did not make him happy nor did it make him forget the loneliness he felt.

Lo’ak always claimed he was misunderstood but Neteyam dare say he had it worse. No one viewed him as other than perfect, no one attempted to see what’s under the surface, and no one was there to love him in the ways he thought he deserved. Today was one of the days that proved he wouldn’t be anything other than the perfect soldier. Another day he had to take the blame for something he did not do.

His brother had snuck onto the battlefield and nearly killed them both. The second their ikrans landed his father had a speech to give to them both, even while his eldest son was bleeding. He took the blame as he always did, the yelling, the insults, and the beratement to protect his younger brother. How much more could he take though? After his wounds had been healed he found himself in the corner of the forest, knees pressed tightly to his chest.

Neteyam prided himself on not being weak but today he let the tears flows. He let the river attempt to wash away the burden that he had no choice but to carry. Neteyam wanted someone, just anyone, to understand him. That is what he prayed for from Ewya, even though the great mother did not involve herself in petty things such as this, he hoped she would this one time.

You had grown up on Pandora, your mother being one of the great scientists who worked with Grace Augustine and Jake Sully. She didn’t allow you to venture outside often like spider, you were too small, too precious to her to risk being harmed in the wilderness. In your opinion it was a load of bullshit and you deserved to play with the Na’vi kids just like him! Except now you were older, inexperienced, out of shape, and would probably die by a viper wolf attack.

Unfortunately for her you were born with rebellion in your heart and a strong sense of will. Dusk had fallen on the moon and the light from the windows inside the lab were beginning to fill the room's orange. It was one of the rare moments you were able to be completely alone. It was a strict rule to return to your room after biology lessons with Norm but you had plenty of time to stroll. Right now, your mother would still be aiding the warriors returning from the recent battle. It was prime time to make an escape and explore.

You first met Neteyam in a very compromising position, curled up by the stream and sleeping. There was a subtle stain on his blue skin from tears that were shed earlier. He looked pathetic, not in a bad way, in an abused puppy way that made your heart melt. How could you leave him out here all alone? Granted, he was twice your size and carried many weapons but that thought did not ease the ache in your heart. No one should ever be left alone to cry. You crawled next to him and gently placed a hand on his shoulder to shake him awake. “Neteyam?” You whispered into his ears.

His eyebrows began to furrow slightly, ears twitching in the direction of your voice. “Neteyam, wake up.” He jumped up and snatched your wrist, startling you. “Brother?!” His eyes scanned the surroundings quickly and you before settling with a confused expression plastered on his face. “S-sorry Lo’ak isn’t here,” you mumbled out. You knew the former vastly better since he visited the lab so often, all you knew of the eldest was stories.

Neteyam’s quickened breathing settled, his eyes scanning over your form. Which human were you? You were too pretty to be another scientist, too young to have lived here during the war. It took him awhile of staring at you for his brain to finally put it together, “star girl.” His hands released you slowly as his mouth hung slightly agape, why in Ewya’s name would Lo’ak hide you from him? He had seen you in passing once or twice but he didn’t realize you looked like this.

Neteyam never considered an alien could be beautiful but you proved him very wrong. You had the perfect lips, your eyes glistened with his reflection inside your pupils. Your hair fell perfectly, highlighting your pretty face. And from what he could see from your strange clothes you had a nice body too. “Lo’ak told me many things about you, all good so far.” He quickly cleared his throat, pulling his hands away to wipe the tears from his eyes. This was embarrassing, but he was going to push through it.

Two tiny, four fingered, hands cupped his cheeks. Your skin was warm, soft and distracting him from his original thought. “Are you alright? Was someone being cruel to you?” You regretted the last sentence as it stumbled out, he was just in a battle you idiot! Oh Ewya, help him because you sounded like the angels his dad spoke about. Neteyam was too dumbfounded to say anything coherent, maybe too starstruck by your presence.

You weren’t necessarily wrong, his father did hurt him deeply. His mother hurt him by not standing up for him either. The most perplexing part was you cared to ask, your tiny self risked being in these dangerous lands just to see if he was alright. Neteyam forced himself to nod slowly, not entirely sure how to react to such comfort.

Perhaps this wasn’t the best thing to do but your mother always comforted you in this way. You had even done this to Kiri a few times when she came to the lab to cry about her own problems. Gently, you swiped the tear tracks from his face, pressing two gentle kisses where they laid. “Don’t cry, you’re an amazing warrior, a good son, an even better brother. You finished your Rite of Passage before anyone else your age. You have so much more to offer than just those things and they’re just too blind to see it. And so many people love you like-”

“My child,” the sounds of your mother's cries echoed in your ears. Shit, she knew you had escaped. You let go of him quickly, preparing to run into her arms and feign innocence. Before you left though, you jumped onto him, arms embracing his frame the best they could. “You're perfect, okay? I’m always here to talk if you need it." You jumped to your feet, brushing off the dirt you had collected whilst exploring. "I gotta go... feel better!"

Neteyam sat up and watched you scurry away, his eyes were wide and time had stilled around him. Where the fuck have you been his entire life? His heart felt full in a way it hadn’t before, Neteyam’s stomach twisting around itself. The thoughts of your little hands, your little frame, your sweet voice and soft lips swirling in his head. You were so… perfect, so inviting… You had to be his.

He had never truly thought about having someone all for himself, especially an alien. But even the perfect son needed to indulge his own desires at times, even the hardened warrior needed to be held in times of sorrow. At this moment all he could think about was stealing you away, keeping you safe in his home, protecting you from the dangers of this world forever. He needed more, desperately and as soon as possible.

Neteyam pulled himself up, with a new found confidence he ran home. It was time he talked to his parents about finding a potential mate.

The talk went about as well as Lo’ak claiming his ikran. He mentioned he had found someone, and he was prepared to finally choose a mate. His parents rejoiced, the proud look they reserved for him finally returning. Until he mentioned that it was you, and the light drained from their eyes, the colors fading from their faces.

Neteyam’s idea was shot down faster than he could manage to speak it. You had an avatar body in that damn lab and he knew it! You could easily become one of the people like his father and be his mate. Why was his mother so against it? His father at the very least gave it some thought before succumbing to his mother’s rants.

It wasn’t her fault she was traumatized, but it was hypocritical considering his father was an alien when she met him. Fine, Neteyam was used to a challenge and he would claim you before they had another chance to say no. Hopefully this time around his love for you would override his fear of disappointing his parents.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The next time he came across you was far after eclipse, everyone in his home was fast asleep while he made his move. It was incredibly hard to sneak out of the camp, even harder to sneak into the human camp. Your stupid cameras and metal monstrosities make it nearly impossible to creep through, let alone into you. Neteyam vaguely remembered where Lo’ak claimed you slept, in moments like these he was grateful his brother had his back.

The more he tiptoed around the camp the angrier he became, were you even real or was that a fever dream? He stumbled onto a group of tree metal homes stacked against each other. Carefully, he peeked his head into each one searching you out. To his disappointment the first two were occupied by a snoring Norm and a drooling Max. It took him one more attempt before he finally saw your sleeping figure.

You were so adorable, all bundled up in the things called sheets and holding a pillow tightly to your chest. It made his soul melt at the sight, Neteyam wasted no time welcoming himself inside, pushing the first door open and closing it tightly behind him. If he let any air in from the outside you may die before he got the chance to touch you again. Thankfully, the next door was easier and much quieter than the first.

Neteyam had to crouch as he approached you, ignoring how terrifying he probably looked. He outstretched one of his long fingers to brush a strand of your hair out of your face, admiring the peaceful view in front of him. If Ewya allowed it he could stay and watch you sleep all night but your air was already taking an effect on his lungs.

“Yawne… wake up,” he gently placed a hand on your shoulder, urging you awake. You were an incredibly light sleeper, your eyes shot open and you jumped back as if you were about to scream. Neteyam quickly shoved a hand over your lips, bracing the back of your head with the other before it crashed against the wall. “Shhh, shh yawne, it’s Neteyam.”

You crooked your head to the side, watching him closely. Obviously pondering why he invaded your space at such a late hour. “Neteyam,” you murmured into his hand, confirming if this was a dream or reality. A wide grin blessed his features, “good morning, baby girl.” He heard that nickname from his father, and by the blush on your cheeks it worked quite well. “What are you doing here?”

You rubbed your eyes, gazing out the window, “it’s after eclipse...” you drawled into a yawn. His entire body language shifted, excitement coursing through his veins. “I’m always too busy during the day to visit so I thought now would be the perfect time.” You sat up on your bed, he reached up and brushed the hair out of your face again. His eyes were completely memorizing, and he touched you with the gentleness only your mother did. “O-okay.”

Neteyam smiled at you with such kindness, even with his size you didn’t feel threatened in slightest. “I thought since you never get to go out I would take you tonight. Of course, you would be under my protection the entire time.”

Your face lit up, you could finally leave and see what’s outside these dull walls. But at the back of your head the sound of your mother's voice telling you what not to do rang strong. The fear of disappointing her was even stronger and the fear of potential punishment. “I- I can’t.”

“No one will find out, I promise.” His amber eyes peered up at you with the same heart wrenching expression as the other day. “You wouldn’t want to make me sad, would you? I- I just thought you would want to spend time with me.” It was manipulative, he knew but it worked flawlessly with you. Neteyam would make up for this one transgression later. “Fine, just wait for me outside please. " you said in a nervous whisper.

Neteyam didn’t take his eyes off you as you slid into your “outside” clothing, at some point he would need to get you actual ones instead of the odd human fabrics that cover too much. You hastily slipped your mask on, taking in a deep breath as you did. He hated that thing, hopefully soon he could get rid of it. A very subtle, almost unnoticeable feeling of butterflies filled your stomach as you exited the lab.

“You ready, baby?” The word sounded foreign on his tongue but music to your ears. You nodded in excitement, letting Neteyam grasp your hand and pull you along. He was gentle with you no matter how much excitement was coursing through his veins. You moved in unison through the thick leaves, granted he whisked you off your feet anytime you seemed to falter. The farther away from the encampment you got, the happier you became.

The forest was naturally lit with bioluminescent flowers, vines, and grasses of all kinds. The noise of animals coming out to play filled your ears and for once it did not frighten you. Neteyam was basking in your joy, your voice carried only the excitement of someone innocent to this world. And when you glanced at him? It felt like Ewya herself had sent you to make his heart ache.

To avoid any possible maimings or accidental injuries he kept you very close to him. If Neteyam’s arm was not around you then his hand was on yours. The warmth you radiated felt like his only life source. To your surprise, he was naturally funny and laid back. You had only assumed he was cold, stern and serious, this must be a side of him he only showed a few.

You spoke with him more than anyone, babbling about everything you saw, heard or felt. It may seem obnoxious to others but to him it was like a melody being played by a flute. Each time you squeezed his fingers he felt the blood rush to his head, pounding at his skull in the most beautiful way. You had completely and irrevocably captured his heart.

As the evening progressed the original point of this journey was almost lost to the daze you put him in. Instead of immediately taking you to the sacred place he opted for the stream where you originally found him, you could call it a second, better, impression. It was memorizing in the eyes of a girl who never got to leave her cave of comfort. The fish glowing beneath a gentle stream, a waterfall glistening under the light of several moons.

But this place would be the start of your inevitable downfall. It started off as a dare that turned into swimming half nude with a man twice your size. You let the water flow past you, cradling your body in its warmth. Neteyam was a better swimmer than you, granted you had never gotten the chance before. You chased him in circles below the surface, quickly becoming distracted by the fish that swam by.

The orange was your favorite, reminding you of the sunset. His favorite was the yellow, said it reminded him of you because yellow was the color of happiness and you made him happy… It was a very sappy way of flirting but it worked. Neteyam spent most of his time indulging you on what you wanted or asked the entire night and he did not mind for one second.

You asked him personal questions no one else dared to, further carving your way into his soul. If he thought he knew what love was before he was terribly wrong. Whatever you were doing to him was much worse in all the right ways. It was about the time he came to the realization, staring into your eyes and seeing your future together, you started to nod off. Your eyes become droopy, yawns escaping your throat every other sentence.

Neteyam would stay like this forever if he could, drowning in your existence. Your health was more important to him though and you desperately needed sleep to survive. You tried to fight him off when he said it was time to go, whining to stay here forever. It was cute, and he almost didn’t make you leave, until another adorable yawn left you.

He whisked you off your feet without protest, wrapping your legs around him so he could carry you home. You felt embarrassed at first, realizing you probably looked like a baby being carried by their mother. But then you began to feel his breath on your neck sending goosebump down your spine, long fingers wrapping around you to keep you in place. The low, deep, whisper of his voice telling you sweet nothings echoing in the walls of your mind.

A new sensation washed over you as Neteyam’s lips brushed against your ears ever so slightly. A sweet ache between your legs that progressively got worse the longer he held you. You attempted to pull away, embarrassed he could feel the heat, but he easily overpowered you. Neteyam was determined to keep you in place, as close to him as humanly possible.

He paused his stride, gazing at you for a moment and then back to the forest ahead. You avoided his eyes, but you could feel the smirk creep onto his face. He didn’t say anything on the way home, deep in thought it seemed. However, you could hear his breath becoming ever so slightly heavier.

Neteyam should be a good little soldier and take you home and feign ignorance. He noticed every sound, every look, every smell, every movement coming from you. The warm feeling across his waist that was driving him to the brink of insanity. His own arousal was bound to be noticed the second he put you down… How far could he go with you before he was stopped? You wanted him and why should he not give you what you wanted?

Sneaking back inside the second time was easier than the first, and this time he intended to stay a little longer than necessary. You were drowsy, too tired to change yourself into dry clothing. You probably told yourself he was used to seeing people in less clothes and that it was nothing to Neteyam. Oh how wrong you were. He managed to keep quiet though, attempting to avoid the thing between his legs.

“Time for bed, yawne.” You threw yourself onto the bed, melting into the mattress. Sleep evaded you, the wetness between your legs making it unbearable to get comfortable. To your surprise, he climbed on top, hovering mere inches from your face. “You okay, baby girl?” His ears twitched, Neteyam’s tail betraying his thoughts. There it was again, the foreign nickname that rolled off his tongue like honey.

You crossed your legs together tightly, “I-I’m okay.” He cocked his head to the side, bringing a finger up to brush your face. “I can help you if there’s something wrong,” he purred. You gulped, opening your legs ever so slightly to make a little more room, but that only made the ache worse. His knee found its place between your thighs, applying pressure to the one place you were trying to avoid.

You turned away and evaded his gaze. You felt like a complete idiot, a grown woman acting like a horny teenager, it was disgusting! However, when you looked back at him he was still looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to ask for his help. His knee moved forward once more, you bit your lip to avoid the sound attempting to escape. “I can show you what helps me, yawne.”

He whispered lowly, you didn’t have time to think, or reply before his lips were connecting to yours. You attempted to push him back, tell him no, this was wrong, and you could get in so much trouble. But the feeling of his legs between yours was easing whatever plagued you. A sound of pleasure escaped you before you could stop it, and that seemed to embolden him.

His lips pressed harder against yours, the sweetness of his mouth made your mind hazy. Neteyam’s tongue found itself entangled with yours, and you found yourself getting lost in the moment. The feeling of need was quickly becoming too much so you moved your hips against him, desperately trying to release the pressure.

Neteyam chuckled into your mouth, his fangs glistening in the light. “All you had to say was your problem was down there,” he purred. “I can fix that for you,” Neteyam’s voice turned into an exhilarating whisper, sending chills down your spine. You shivered at the feeling of his fingers gently slipping inside your waistband, hovering over the spot you really wanted him.

You grabbed his hand, your nerves getting the best of you. “W-what if someone finds out.” Neteyam moved forward, cupping your pussy . It was so wet and desperate for him, how could he stop? “I won’t tell if you don’t.” You closed your eyes, nodding your head. Neteyam kissed you once more, this time more rough than before. Internally, he hoped everyone would find out.

He slipped his finger inside of you, his eyes growing wide at how tight you were. He could feel the heat emanating from your core, and you were practically throbbing. Neteyam’s fingers were large enough to easily reach your sweet spot, stretching you out as he added another. You clenched around him, a high pitched sound leaving your lips.

He groaned at the sight of you, you were far too good to be true. Neteyam leaned down, gently nipping at your neck and sucking on your pulse point. His fangs occasionally gliding across your sensitive skin. Neteyam continued to pleasure you, fingers moving at a steady rhythm, a pace he knew he could keep up for hours.

You bit your lip to hold back your whines, each breathy exhale turning into a high pitched moan. The sound was like music to Neteyam, he couldn't get enough of you. His tongue snaked out of his mouth, tasting your skin as he left marks. He wanted everyone to know you belonged to him, in one way or another.

His thumb began to circle your clit, thankfully human anatomy was similar to his own. His tail wrapped around one of your legs, pulling it to the side, allowing him more access. You gripped onto him, burying your face in his chest to hide the embarrassment of the sound leaving your lips.

Neteyam kissed your forehead, nuzzling you softly as he quickened his pace. You clenched tightly around his fingers, bucking your hips against his hand, riding it out as much as possible. Neteyam had you pinned under him, mercilessly trying to pull out your orgasm. He was almost certain he would cum in his loincloth.

"You're doing so well for me, baby girl." He purred into your ear, his tongue darting across it as his hand worked you. His fingers consistently applying pressure at the spongy spot inside of you. His thumb continued to move across your clit, working it to match the pace. You gripped tightly to his broad shoulders, rolling your hips against his hand as you felt your body begin to give way. "Oh, I-I-I..."

“Hmm? Baby girl I can’t hear you.” His breath was hot on your neck. “S-sgood, Teyam,” your new nickname for him made him groan. His fingers continued to move, making your words come out more high pitched and incoherent than before. He nipped at your neck, biting it and sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

He didn't want to stop, he didn't want this moment to end. The feeling of your warm cunt tightening around him as your body tensed. Your nails digging into his shoulders, you back arching and hips bucking. His hand moved at a steady pace as your body began to unravel, letting yourself go. The euphoric feeling washing over you like a tidal wave.

Neteyam took his time as he eased you through it, gently bringing you down as he whispered sweet nothings. He peppered kisses across your face, murmuring how good you were to him as you relaxed. "Good girl," he whispered. He carefully removed his fingers, and your body mourned the loss of him. “You did so good for me, yawne.”

Your body was limp underneath him, your weighted breaths slowing. “I’m so tired,” you murmured. Shh, go to sleep, yawne. I’ll clean you up.” And he did exactly what he said, unsurprisingly. He took the time out of his night to carefully clean up the mess he made on your body and clothes. It was pathetic to admit but at some point, he came in his loincloth, and it was leaking out onto your sheets.

Neteyam watched you sleep peacefully until the light began to shine into the camp. He rushed back home and thankfully, no one noticed his disappearance. This became a routine between the two of you, and Lo’ak became his best wingman. He pretended to not know anything, made excuses, and visited you pretending like he wasn’t just going so Neteyam had an excuse to follow. For once he was very grateful his little bro was the way he was.

Things were looking up for you as well, Now you got to leave the human lab more often and you got to watch him train with the other boys. A few people noticed the way you watched him and how he watched you, the way he moved if you moved. It was kept quiet, as far as anyone knew you had no relationship. Neteyam was always teaching and showing you exciting new things, making you laugh constantly, showering you with affection you received from no one else. He worshiped you in a way you never thought possible.

Neteyam was completely beside himself, and it was going to kill him eventually. You told him you loved him, were proud of him and he was so much more than just the perfect son. You liked him for the reasons no one else did, seeing him for how he truly was and wanted to be. It was no wonder he was infatuated by your existence.

Neteyam, thankfully, found enough self-control to not fuck you. To do enough to keep you attached to him but not enough to ruin you completely. He was pretty positive he wouldn’t even be able to fit inside you anyway. It didn’t change the fact he thought about it every single day. It was hard to explain the things he was feeling but he knew he was stuck to you. Without you he wouldn’t be able to breathe, eat, or sleep like he used to. Neteyam’s existence would become completely meaningless without your presence.

But for now, it was new and perfect. Shiny like a freshly carved toy bound to break.

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All good things come to an end, you learned that after Quartich had returned and Neteyam was being stolen away to a reef clan too far from you. The moon stopped its rotation, all of the life you had being stolen away after he uttered the words goodbye. It was an indescribable pain, unrelenting and all consuming. It took weeks for you to be able to leave your bed, for the nightmares to cease, but the thoughts of him haunted you at every waking moment.

The only place you could find him was at the river, in memories. A part of you wished to go back, to have never left the lab and stayed oblivious to his existence. In your heart you knew he was bound to carve his place into it one way or another. Neteyam used to say how he prayed to the great mother for you and Ewya always finds a way. Day and night blurred together, you stopped counting the hours and let them fly past you. In your darkest moments you repeated a chant to yourself, a prayer almost, One day, Neteyam will come back for you.

He cried, a pathetic display, in front of his parents to bring you with. Neytiri was disgusted, but not enough to hate you as much as spider. He took that as a small win in a losing battle. Jake never faltered on his stance, only family could come unless you wished to put yourself in danger. All he received for his pleas was sympathy from his siblings and a harsh scolding from his parents. It felt as thought his heart had been torn from his chest, the air sucked out of his lungs. You would be here alone, without him, doing all the things you should be doing with him. Neteyam would be stuck in the middle of the ocean with strangers on a droll island.

He did not adapt to the way of water like Lo’ak did. His brother had finally found an environment to thrive in but he was completely lost without you. It was becoming harder to maintain the perfection his father strived for. Even whilst in mourning he had to care of everyone, protect them, comfort them and receive none of it in return. It was a hard life to live but what other choice did he have?

Neteyam only ever felt happy again when he drifted off in his sleep. He was always with you in his dreams, feeling, touching, hearing and smelling you again. For a few hours each night he was back in your room making stupid jokes and listening to rave about your newest discovery. It was always sunny in his dreams, even when it was nightfall. Each time Neteyam closed his eyes it was as if he was in the promised land… but everyone has to wake up eventually.

To ease the eternal ache, he started pleasuring himself more often. It would be a sad sight if anyone ever caught the once mighty warrior stopping to such levels but desperate times called for desperate measures. Neteyam fully intended on stealing you away one day, human or avatar body he didn’t care anymore. If anyone was against you he would kill them… except his own blood, of course.

When he connected to Ewya he saw you, crouched down by your mother in a body he didn’t recognize. Oh, your avatar, your mother is finally allowing you to use it. You were still ethereal in the new body, still tiny, but you looked much more like him. You felt so close to him, your warmth radiating through the connection. He was at peace again, for a limited time only. Neteyam was dragged away the second he felt a shift in the water… Kiri

“We’re leaving… now!” You scrambled to grab the med supplies before you leaped onto the helicopter. For all that it was worth, you hoped Kiri was okay. Still, a very selfish, disgusting, part of you was glad you now had an excuse to visit Neteyam. Norm wouldn’t allow you to go in Avatar form, too early to tell if it would last the long journey ahead. You nervously picked at your fingernails the entire way there, she would okay you knew it.

Neteyam could only watch as your little form rushed past everyone to get to his sister. He never left her side or yours for that matter, choosing to stay outside and watch you work. He couldn’t put into words how grateful he was for you, for the effort you were devoting to his family, to saving his sister. He felt a sliver of happiness just watching you again, seeing that you were alive and well.

You hadn’t given him the time of day though, too busy checking Kiri’s pulse and giving her an IV. If you were being honest with yourself this didn’t appear to be a normal human illness. Almost all people can wake up from seizures naturally, almost, as she wasn’t waking up at all. You didn’t know as much about Ewya as everyone else but if this happened whilst she was connected to the tree… then it was probably due to that.

Of course, you hadn’t voiced this out loud in fear of insulting Norm and his hard work. Also, Neytiri breathing down your neck had you too scared to move, a good mother, but a very scary woman. Eventually, you were all kicked out and you nearly fell on your face rushing onto the woven walkways. They were much more bouncy than you expected but a rather large Metkayina boy caught you before you dived head first into the ocean.

“You should be more careful, alien.” You gazed up at him with wide eyes, he was even bigger than Teyam! The last word was in Na’vi but you knew very well what it meant. Luckily, it wasn’t filled with disdain like it usually was, rather disappointment paired with curiosity. A strange thing you did notice was his hand remained on your shoulder, was this normal? “Thank you…” His head raised, eyes scanning you cautiously, “It’s Aonung.”

The crowd around the marui had finally begun to disappear and Neteyam was able to release a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He stood up from his crouching position, thanking ewya for saving his sister and welcoming her back to the land of the living. It was times like this he was grateful his dad pushed him so hard, if he was too weak, too careless, she could very well be dead.

Neteyam slowly stalked out of the marui, lost in his own thoughts. He knew you would love the ocean, the water, the creatures, and all of the plants you fawn over. His dream was to be able to show you it eventually, under more positive circumstances. For now, he would accept showing you what he could whilst you remained here. A childlike smile graced his features as he looked around, head turning in all directions to spot you.

“I’m going to kill him,” his eyes twitched and Neteyam’s hands unconsciously balled up into fists, granted they were not the same as those with four fingers. Aonung was touching you, talking to you as if you weren’t an alien. After all the bullshit he’d done to his siblings he had the nerve to touch you? He felt the bile in his gut rise to his throat as you smiled at something he said. “It’s a waste of time,” Lo’ak appeared beside him and if he was in his right mind Neteyam would have demanded to know where he has been.

Except he wasn’t in his right mind. “Fish lips,” his younger brother mumbled under his breath before turning to go into the marui where Kiri rested. Jealousy, rage, hate, hurt, Neteyam couldn’t put a name to everything that was boiling inside, but it was too much. You hadn’t even fucking glanced in his direction the entire night. Before he knew it his feet had carried him right behind you, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath.

“Teyam,” you exclaimed, more excited than you have been in months. Your smile fell when you noticed the way his eyes were staring daggers into the water boy, enemies perhaps? “Back off,” he gritted through his teeth as he poked at Aonung’s chest. Obviously, this wasn’t a fight the other was interested in. He glanced at you with a raised brow, if he had a brow, and back at your Teyam.

“Okayyy then,” he lifted his hands in mock surrender. “It was nice meeting you, human.” Aonung spoke to Neteyam more than you, his smirk directed only at him. You swore you heard him growl lowly, maybe the heat was getting to your head. He didn’t move as he watched the fish boy walk away, his tail swaying violently behind him. “Neteyam?” You turned to him, staring at his face after what felt like centuries.

“Teyam-” you were cut off as his hand wrapped around your wrist, literally dragging you away from the camp. You protested at first, slamming your fist into his arm, offended by how he was behaving. Did the reef people make him cruel? “Let. Me. Go!” you shouted at him, but your cry fell on deaf ears. The grip he had on you wasn’t bruising but his strength far outmatched yours and this was completely unfair. You whipped your head around to watch where he was taking you, the sandy beach quickly turning into heavy shrubbery.

It was beautiful at the very least, you told yourself to remain positive. There hasn’t been a time where you’ve seen Neteyam this angry, especially at you. He paused in his steps when he felt you were now far enough away from everyone. Neteyam let your hand fall to your sides, taking a deep breath, “you!” You flicked when he raised his voice, your fear only heightened at your sheer size difference. "Y-yea, me."

Neteyam huffed, his eyebrows furrowed and gaze piercing though you. “Why haven’t I seen you all evening” Normally, he kept all of his feelings under check, making sure to never express them in case they would upset someone else. Now, the anger radiated off of his shoulders and his words dripped with malice. His question came out as more of a demand, and you could feel your own anxiety spike up. “I was helping Kiri.”

“Helping? You were too busy swooning over fish lips to help anyone.” The words fell from his mouth faster than he could process, regret immediately flooding his system. You wished the ground would open up and Ewya would swallow you whole. “I- I-'' you choked on your own words, tears welling in your eyes. “You don’t love me anymore?” Your damned mask began to fog as you stumbled over your words.

Neteyam's hands were around your shoulders before you could even react, pulling you into him, “don’t cry please, you’ll suffocate to death.” His tone was gentle and he spoke softly, but you could still hear the pain in his voice. The tears came quicker now and your heart hurt. His large hands ran up and down your back in an attempt to calm you down.

"I- I'm sorry, I don't mean to," You sniffled, attempting to keep the tears in your eyes. Neteyam didn’t mean to make you cry, although seeing you like this for him was far better than watching you with the other. Shit, was this manipulation? He dropped down on his knees so you could almost be the same height, placing his hands on your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. “Shh, I still love you. I would never stop loving you. No matter the time we spend apart or the distance between us, you’re in my heart forever, yawne.”

He always knew the right things to say, it made your heart swell and warmth fill your body. Neteyam could make the worst situations feel okay. "I-I," Neteyam placed a hand over his heart, "you don’t need to say anything to me, I've upset you." You sniffled "I still love you too," Neteyam released a deep breath, his face turning stern once more. “Let me prove to you how much I care about you.”

It took minutes before you were laid out on the sand, your pants long discarded. Neteyam had your legs over his shoulders, devouring you. Your toes curled against the cool beach as the wind blew through your hair, the breeze from the water chilling the heat radiating off of you. It was a new sensation, his tongue rubbing circles around your clit. The feeling was foreign and intense, sending jolts throughout your body.

Your hips bucked as his fingers prodded at your entrance, forcing all three inside as an attempt to stretch you more. Neteyam growled in response, the noise sending vibrations throughout your core. His fingers pumped in and out of you, curling against the top of you to press into the soft spongy spot that had you crying out. Neteyam lapped at the wetness leaking out of you, drinking up every single drop of you.

His eyes met yours, you felt as if the whole world was spinning, a euphoric feeling bubbling inside you, building and building. Neteyam's tongue pressed against your clit once more and you felt the orgasm ripple through you, your walls contracting against his fingers and squeezing them. The pleasure was overwhelming and you couldn't do much but writhe and cry out as Neteyam brought you down from your high, licking you clean of your mess.

He pulled away and you whined at the loss of his body heat, until you heard the sounds of his loincloth falling to the ground. You pulled your head up off the ground and gasped, he was large, incredibly too large for you. His tip was a bruising purple, shining with precum. Your eyes nearly burst out of your skull, it looked painfully hard as his veins popped out. “T-teyam-”

Neteyam climbed on top of you, shushing you with his finger. “I’ll be gentle I promise,” he purred, his hand snaking down to his tip, rubbing the sticky liquid around the head before placing himself at your entrance. “I’m gonna claim you, mark you with my scent so no one else fucking touches you.” The head of his cock prodded at your entrance and the pressure was intense, your walls achingly slow stretching to fit him. "I can't," Neteyam pushed the head of his cock into you, forcing a choked cry from your lips. “Shh, just be a good girl for me.”

It hurt, yet it felt good in the most bizarre way, a tingling sensation shooting through your body as he pushed deeper and deeper inside you. “Oh ewya, you’re so fucking tiny, baby girl,” he groaned as he pushed deeper. His cock was stretching your walls, the pain slowly disappearing as you grew used to his size. You could feel him against the very base of your cervix, his hips pressing flush against your thighs. “F-f-fuck,” you choked out in a choked whimper, trying to get accustomed to his girth and length, it had to be the size of your forearm at least.

Neteyam began to pump into you slowly, giving you a few seconds to adjust to his length before snapping his hips and forcing the air out of your lungs, causing you to scream and arch your back. You couldn't believe the noises coming out of your own mouth, the moans and cries echoing around the beach. Neteyam moved painfully slowly, thrusting himself in and out of you.

He used one of his large hands to press against your stomach, feeling his cock move inside of you. “You feel that, yawne?I can feel myself moving inside of you. Fuck, you're so perfect, sweetheart, taking all of me inside you.” He hissed as his movements got faster and more erratic. The feeling was indescribable, the mixture of pain and pleasure that had your head spinning and mind hazy.

Neteyam couldn’t fit all of himself in you no matter how hard he tried, he settled for slamming into the top of your cervix, forcing a scream from your lips. He hoped everyone could hear you screaming his name from miles away. “You like that, baby?” Neteyam growled, you wrapped your arms around his neck, clawing at his shoulders. “Ssyes teyam, sgood,” you slurred your words, feeling the waves of euphoria begin to roll inside of you again.

His thrusts started to become faster, and your mind began going numb. Your cunt clenched around him as your eyes welled with tears. “Teyam, p-please. Please!" You stuttered between moans and whimpers. Neteyam wrapped a hand around your neck, squeezing softly. "That’s my girl,” his praise made you whimper for more. His cock was throbbing inside you, his seed threatening to spill at any moment. "Louder, yawne. Everyone has to know you’re all mine," he growled into your ear, putting emphasis on 'mine’. Your entire body was going limp beneath him.

Neteyam removed his hand from your neck, wrapping his arm underneath your legs, spreading them as far as they could go and angling you so that he hit the sensitive bundle of nerves inside you, pounding against it rapidly. Your vision started to turn blurry and you felt yourself begin to fall over the edge again, a new kind of wave washing over you, “F-Fuck! Tey- teyam- please in for me!"

Your cunt clamped down around him, forcing Neteyam to cry out, his thrusts becoming shallow and erratic. You could feel Neteyam release inside of you, ropes of hot cum filling your insides, mixing with your own fluids.

The sound of a twig snapping nearby pulled you both out of your haze, “Neteyam!” Jake’s booking voice echoed around the beach. Both of your heads shot to the left, staring at the mortified father whose eyes were boring into you. Oh, you were completely fucked.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The walk of shame you both endured was the most humiliating moment of your entire life. It was an excruciating silent trip back home but at the very least Jake waited until you boarded the helicopter, with a traumatized look on his face, before he called your mother. Without a doubt he told Neytiri soon after and you could only imagine her utter rage. Norm and Max said nothing, opting to stare out the window and dissociate from the entire situation completely. You were extremely grateful for their silence.

You couldn’t imagine the scolding he was about to receive, the punishment he was going to endure. Your mom, although mortified, let you off the hook easily. No avatar for another month, and no Neteyam for the rest of eternity. That one hurt, you felt the same soul crushing despair as you did when he first left.

On the other side of Pandora Neteyam remained completely unphased. He took the yelling, the punishment and everything else like a strong man. In the end he had won, you were covered in his scent and no one was going to touch you again. As for your future together? He had a plan for that too. Neteyam had already practically mated with you no matter what his mother said and once you’re in that new body, he would run away and do it again.

You may not realize it yet but he was coming back for you. One way or another you were going to come to the reef with him, be a part of his family, bear his children, and never ever leave his side again. Even if it meant disappointing his parents one final time, but he had hope in Ewya that would not be the case.

#neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam x human reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam fluff #neteyam smut #neteyam angst #neteyam fic #avatar fic #atwow fic #atwow x reader #atwow fanfiction #atwow smut #neteyam suli x reader

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greenglowsgold · 11 months

Text

The List.

Based on the Cass Apocalyptic Series.

The first part of this has been rumbling around in my brain ever since that Super Sad Scene a month ago, but yesterday’s update gave me the other side of the coin, so to speak, and finally pulled it all together.

@somerandomdudelmao thanks for the fuel, friend

-----

Donatello’s days have become a series of checklists, as of late.

No, that’s not exactly true. His days have always been about lists: what he’s done, what he can delegate to someone else, what still needs doing. But these days he’s been doing less and listing more, piling tasks from the first category onto the second as fast as he can manage, hoping he has enough time to empty the queue.

The full catalog is written out in a series of files, reorganized for accessibility to the layperson and meticulously up-to-date as of yesterday. He meant to run through it again this morning, ensure all the relevant instruction manuals were attached to each item and double check his protocols, but he wasn’t… he couldn’t…

He’s going to die tonight.

It irritates him, his own miscalculation of the timing more than the stark presence of his oncoming demise. The latter has been inevitable for quite some time, long enough that he’s gotten used to the idea. But he thought he had another week or two, and he doesn’t like being proven wrong. He wonders if his brothers know.

Probably not. They know it’s bad now, obviously, because they’ve piled him with pillows and blankets and surrounded him on all sides, and Leo has finally gone quiet. But they trust him, they’ve always trusted him, even when they shouldn’t, so if he swears he’ll last a few more days, they’ll believe him. He thinks. He’s pretty sure. If they knew it was tonight, he doubts they would choose to sleep through it. Donnie thinks about waking them up, but only for a moment. He’d like to say it’s a noble act, to leave them in peace a little bit longer, but the truth is he’s just too fucking tired to move.

There’s something settled bone-deep in his chest, a heaviness that sits on him like a stone, a peine forte et dure pressing him down and down, stopping his voice and his breath and his heart. He wonders if this is what dying usually feels like, or if it’s unique to the Kraang. Raph would know.

He cranes his neck to the right, to catch Raph’s face out of the corner of his eye. Raph’s working eye is half-open, staring down at the floor. Donnie could ask him. (He won’t. Let him fall asleep.) The movement of his head is so slight it doesn’t even catch Raph’s attention. He’s too tired for anything more. He’s so goddamn tired.

His lists are out of reach at the moment, with his physical interfaces back in the lab and his ninpo locked behind a wall of oh-god-it-sounds-too-exhausting-to-even-try, but he memorized them all long ago.

Raphael: Maintenance (delegated to Casey, who has it well in hand). Plans (tucked away in a dedicated folder, long term, but someday they’ll have the materials, and Raph will have a proper body again, someday). Honey (yes, he passed that along last week).

Raph has access to the tracking programs, so he can keep an eye on everyone himself, even when Donnie can’t pull up locations or vitals for him anymore. He has his own space in the base once more, somewhere to close a door when he needs to (he insists he doesn’t, but Donnie isn’t a fool). He has more excuses to spend time with Casey, who’s taking over his upkeep. Donnie hopes it fills in some gaps for both of them.

He runs through the list, double checks each item. It’s his last chance to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything important.

He looks down, finds Mikey.

There’s a stockpile of the anti-aging serum in his safe, the formula in his database, plans for the permanent solution clearly labeled. As long as they have his lab, his systems, Mikey will be as young as his years. He’s walked him through the greenhouse, even if most of it is controlled by the computer system. Mikey misses the world being green; it’ll do him good to spend more time around the plants. He has his tea, his candles. He has Draxum, who by now should have received a — mildly — threatening message warning him not to pull any disappearing acts anytime soon. He has their ancestors, just a short call away.

Donnie’s sure Mikey will call on him soon. He doesn’t plan to stray far.

Up a bit. To the left. Leo.

The arm — Leo knows how to take care of it, as does Casey.

The passwords — reset, something even Leo will be able to remember without resorting to blackmail.

The schedule — reshuffled for the next few days, he’ll have a hard enough time sleeping as it is.

The photos — everything they have, even the embarrassing ones. He even managed a couple of prints, and one precious shot from their pre-apocalypse days, something for Leo to tuck into a pouch and carry with him, when they’re not around.

Raph, Mikey, Leo. He doesn’t think he’s missed anything. Donnie lets his head fall back, too exhausted to hold it up any longer.

Is it enough?

His mind stretches further out. He’s unraveling.

What about April? Her prescription is up to date, they just checked a month ago. She has the latest in his combat tech, which has kept her safe in the field this long, so he has no reason to think it will falter now. He’s leaving her a few extra pieces, since he won’t be able to use them anymore. Leo will find the time for a movie night once in a while, he’s certain, even if his taste in Jupiter Jim movies is horrendous. They still have coffee; he’d die before he let that particular supply run out. He will, actually.

Casey. Fuck, Donnie’s gonna miss his birthday. But he did plan for this, his protocols will kick in. The mask is finished, everything is in place. He’s reconfigured his workstations, fit them for a tiny human instead of a seven-foot turtle. Casey has a better head for mechanics than any of his brothers ever did. Kid likes to be useful, so Donnie’s left him as much use as he can. He’s taught him everything Casey can learn and left instructions for more, when he’s a little older and wiser. His family will take care of him, they’ll make sure he gets there.

The base. It has to hold, to give them somewhere safe. The infrastructure is sound, and they have people to manage repair work. Supplies are decent, the most critical items in stock, everything that can be made renewable is. Their allies — Leo handles interpersonal issues and leadership, but Donnie’s checked the list with a pragmatist’s eye, left notes and rankings for priority. Security is the largest concern, but he’s spent nearly half his time with his assistants since his self-diagnosis (he could have spent it with his family), running them through the programs and adjustments, trying to bring them up to somewhere in the realm of his own expertise (a fool’s errand, but still). They’ve been rigorously instructed, they understand that the little things like sleep are secondary concerns. It has to hold.

Is it enough? For them to be okay?

He’s done everything he can. He can’t do any more. So it has to be enough.

Donnie blinks, and for a moment isn’t certain his eyes will open again at the end of it. But they do. At least one more time, they obey him.

Raph. Mikey. Leo. April. Casey. Home. He rolls back through the list. It’s his last chance. He can’t miss anything.

Mikey’s hand tightens unconsciously around his wrist, fingers meeting easily on either side. Donnie feels only the echo of the pressure.

Raph. Mikey. Leo. April. Casey. Home.

Something bright sparks at the edges of his vision before it fades. The last gasps of a dying brain, he supposes. Synapses firing one last time before they’re snuffed out.

Raph.

Mikey.

Leo.

April.

Casey.

Home.

Light.

There’s light.

It hurts.

He thought dying would stop the pain, but it’s risen to a fever pitch instead. His brother’s arms are gone, but the disease wraps around him in their place, consumes him. It rages like a wildfire, burning through his center until pieces start to flake away like ash.

Oh, this is what it does, what it was built for. The Kraang could have killed him in a lot of different ways. He’d wondered why they chose this one.

He hasn’t planned for it. This is something he didn’t even know to fear.

It’s bright and it hurts but it’s quiet as he crumbles, folds in on himself like a black hole in the utter silence of outer space. It’s quiet enough that the voice that breaks through does so clear as a bell.

His head turns to follow the sound, instinct. He’s lost half his field of vision, but what’s left is enough. He looks, and finds Casey.

Casey looks at him, at him, not the body. Donnie opens his mouth to ask a question — What are you doing here? How? Why? — but something else sloughs out instead. Not blood. He doesn’t have that anymore.

Casey calls his name once more and starts running.

Donnie’s questions fold back into his mind. His mouth clicks shut, he swallows back the putrid rot and pushes himself up. His arms are shattered but they’ll have to hold him. They have to. Because Casey is here and he needs something, which means Donnie missed something, which means he isn’t done.

His spirit disagrees with him, doesn’t see the logic. His arms don’t hold.

Casey reaches to catch him as he falls, and the touch ruptures him instead. He scatters. Into the air and the ground and Casey. For a moment, he’s just pieces, fumbling around and latching onto anything that welcomes them, and Casey does that. They flow into him. They’re him. They’re…

He’s…

Casey, he’s…

Donatello pulls himself back together. Most of himself, anyway. The infection hasn’t followed him but the damage persists. He’s run through with cracks and crevices, shaking bits away into infinity with every movement. But there’s more of him here than not.

Unexpectedly, Donnie is not gone. He’s still dead, but that’s fine, he planned for that one.

Casey has him now. He wraps himself around Donnie in layers, helps hold him together with a kind of sheer will that makes up for any lack of mystic knowledge in spades. Casey asks him to stay, and Donnie takes up the task like Sisyphus sizing up the hill. This time, this time I’ll do it right.

Even better, Casey has taken him to another time, one where all of Donnie’s long-term plans are now completely-fucking-reasonable plans. Casey’s going to fix it, so Donnie can fix everything else. Whatever else needs it. He hasn’t really asked. And he knows he’s missed something, but he doesn’t think too hard about what, not yet.

First thing’s first: he needs a body.

It’s so simple to accomplish that it seems like the universe is mocking him. Just a quick 1-2-3, ticking off the list. It feels almost stupid, like running back through the early levels of a video game after unlocking all the ultimate weapons and burning through enemies and obstacles, laughing, shit, did I used to think this was hard?

In no time at all, his own face has formed in front of him.

In no time at all, he’s gasping.

It’s only been a few hours since he last breathed air, but he’s missed it.

Another thing he’s missed? Functional musculature. Casey slams into him and Donnie is startled to find that it doesn’t knock him over. His arms and legs look like actual limbs again, not fragile little sticks disguising themselves as such. He stands, dragging Casey along without a second thought. The weight barely registers. It’s amazing.

The power trip is heady, but it only lasts a few minutes before reality kicks it in the ass and pulls him back down to earth.

We lost, Casey says.

They’re dead, Casey says.

It wasn’t enough, Casey does not say, but Donnie hears it just as clearly.

All those plans, the preparations, the precautions and protocols, they only borrowed a year or two before they fell apart. He sees the timeline spiral out before him, tighter and tighter until it collapses in on itself, rendered all the more insignificant from his own point of perception. He was alive yesterday. His family is dead today.

Everything he did, it wasn’t enough. Of course it wasn’t. He was stupid to think otherwise.

(Raph. Mikey. Leo. April. Casey. Casey’s still here. It was enough for him, at least.)

It cuts at him a little, to have been so wrong. But he’s strong again, now. He can take the wound. More importantly, he has another chance to get it right.

Donnie breathes. His chest expands smoothly, easily. The air doesn’t rattle in his lungs. He’s alive, he’s a genius, he can fix anything.

He pulls up a list.

#rottmnt #cass apocalyptic series #Rise of the TMNT #fic I write #*looks at the word count* haha. anyway. i'm normal.#Donnie's expressions when he looks at his family one last time are so fuckin good they're so clear #I looked at him and I was like 'oh cool I can literally read his mind'#which may or may not be true (you tell me) but holy shit was it effective #(please @god let the formatting of this post hold)

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chuunai · 4 months

Note

I had an idea for the 100 followers thingy- so like the babies thing but you’re a single mother (maybe teen mom?) and dazai (pm) falls in love with you and your baby :} ps- I LOVE YOU TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF SUGAR 💗‼️‼️‼️

I’m trying I swear TvT

✧˚ · . you’re a virgin and I’m just a meth head - pm! dazai osamu

the new hire at the port mafia interests him. the baby, too.

summary ⋆ ★ comfort, fluff with a sprinkle of angst, mentions of teen pregnancy, reader and PM! dazai are seventeen, SFW, mentions of a former abusive relationship, mentions of suicide (it’s fucking dazai), happy ending.

Assistants were something he never cared for much.

They came and go, either requesting to work for a different department in the Port Mafia after witnessing his peculiarities or dying. He hadn’t ever formed any bonds with them. Hell, he hardly knew their names. Dazai preferred to give them childish nicknames such as ‘four-eyes’ for the ones with glasses or ‘baldy’ for the ones who had barely began balding.

No use in actually getting to know them.

All they were good for anyway was organizing his work and making a schedule of meetings and pointless missions he’d hardly follow. And what could they do? Nothing.

Once, he had attempted to get Ango to apply for the job during an outing at Bar Lupin, but that four-eyes declined. So did Oda. Geez, his friends lacked faith in him. Dazai wasn’t that bad of a boss. His subordinates didn’t die that often compared to the others.

Then again, his most recent assistant had died via overdosing. Straight from the Port Mafia’s warehouses, too. Dying of his own stupidity because karma struck him down. The high may have been sending him to the clouds, but he got too close to the sun just as Icarus did and burned—or in this case, vomited—to death. Fun.

A replacement would be needed, yes, but that would involve looking through so many applications and that was boring compared to strangling himself or pulling Chuuya’s hair when the redhead was speaking with Kouyou.

He’d pick irritating the slug over paperwork any day. At least one was fun.

So he just had Mori pick one out. As long as they wouldn’t be a nuisance and knew their place, he didn’t care who it was. Boy, girl, whatever. All ages welcomed. Dazai preferred younger though. The old farts were annoying and so utterly dumb! So when a subordinate gave him a file for his new assistant, he didn’t think anything of it. He always got those for record keeping.

Although this particular individual piqued his interest as his eyes gazed over the information attached.

The age was young—seventeen, same as him. A girl. According to the report, you were previously stationed as a secretary for some lower ranking member. And you’d just joined, too. Only a few blissful months ago. Just barely a baby in the crime world. All dewy-eyed and truly unknowing of the dark underbelly of Yokohama.

Most interesting, though, and the thing that struck his curiosity was the fact that a small sticky note was attached to the last page.

‘Single mother of eight month old girl’

There weren’t many parents in the Mafia, much less teenage ones. Nobody had time to have a baby with the lack of safety. But you did. Someone desperate enough to provide for their child to the point where they joined an illegal organization without even being an adult yet. That took will and selflessness. Something he lacked.

And without having even met you yet, Dazai found himself fascinated by you.

Murmuring your name to himself, he found himself a bit startled at how smooth it rolled off his tongue. He liked it, too. Your name was nice to say.

Tossing the file onto his desk carelessly, Dazai tapped his fingers on the desk, mind wandering once more. If you had a child then you’d probably work your best to support them. You’d be competent enough for him.

Apparently competent enough to the point where you felt like you could handle bringing the baby to the Mafia HQ.

“I don’t remember hiring two assistants.”

Dazai’s voice came out as slightly amused and startled. There you were, standing in-front of his desk while occasionally shushing your…daughter? It looked like a girl, anyway.

“Sorry- her sitter wasn’t available and I-“

His eyes stared at your reddening cheeks—embarrassment and shame, he could tell—as you spoke again.

“I don’t really have anyone to watch her. I’m so sorry, sir.”

Sir? You called him sir? That made him wave his hand a bit dismissively. The only people who called him ‘sir’ were the random grunts and gunmen that served under him. Or people who were scared shitless of him.

“Dazai. Not sir.”

Sitting up languidly, his uncovered eye focused on the baby. Curls of dark hair fell over her forehead while her tiny hands grabbed at your shirt and hair. Funny, he thought.

“And the baby can stay.”

She reminded him of some of the orphans Oda took care of. Especially Sakura. Maybe they had the same name, too. Unlikely, though. She didn’t look like a Sakura, really.

Picking up a pen, he pointed it at you, a small smile on her face.

“Speaking of, may I know her mother’s name?”

He knew it already. But it felt more right if he convinced himself you told him.

“Oh! Yes, uhm, I’m (L/N) (Y/N). And her name,” Tapping your baby’s forehead, she released a small coo, giggling slightly. “is (L/N) Yukirou.”

“Winter baby, huh. I’ll guess, December 16th?”

This was so much fun for him so far. Maybe Yukirou really could be his second assistant. As a joke, of course.

Nodding, you began to ramble on about the baby as he relaxed back in his chair, spinning around and making funny faces at Yukirou. The small child giggled and outreached her fingers to him, probably infatuated by his bandages and messy hair. He didn’t touch her, though. No need to let such a good small thing interact with a person like him.

And so minutes went by. Technically, he should’ve been doling out tasks and trying to kill himself again—he had heard of a technique where one could inject apple juice into their neck and die, but he wasn’t sure it’d work—but it slipped out of his grasp. Maybe it was the fact you two were so close in age. The fact that in another universe you could’ve been classmates fueled this moment. Dazai didn’t really know people his age other than Chuuya, but Chuuya was Chuuya. You were new.

New to everything in this line of business. The killing, the release of morals. Then again, you were just an assistant. You’d never directly be involved with that. Just helping him out with whatever was needed.

Dazai thought that was a smart choice, whether or not you intended for it to be. As an assistant, you’d be safe from the gunfire and outermost threats. More likely to live and protect your daughter.

So caring in a line of work where lives were dispensable.

He wondered how you got there. Not to the Port Mafia—the file told him. But how you took on such a frowned upon job to solely provide for your child. Was the father a deadbeat? Or actually dead? His father was the same. Dead five years into Dazai’s life.

His mother tried her best, but she died too and he slipped onto Mori’s grasp. Hopefully your baby wouldn’t end up in the same situation.

The peaceful moment was interrupted by one of his men who dropped off a load of documents, side-eyeing you before leaving.

Dazai wished you hadn’t turned the conversation back to work.

“Sir, sorry- Dazai-san, would you like me to organize the papers..?”

Why did he forget that you were just an assistant of his? The medication must be making his mind woozy again.

“By date and incident, yep. Also, if you see any that mentioned a Chuuya, please throw them out. Or burn them. Preferably the burning part.”

His office was always to be kept rid of that ginger.

“On it.”

And so he doodled a noose on the wood of his desk while you slowly put the papers away. It soon became clear to him that Yukirou was making the job a tad difficult by trying to grab at the papers.

A slight idea of letting her crawl loose in Mori’s office and destroying it entered his mind, but it quickly left.

“Y’know, if she’s being a devil, I can play with her for a bit. I swear I’ll be good!”

The words left him before he could really process them. Next thing he knew he was wearing the baby carrier with tiny fingers pulling at his shirt. Instructions poured from your lips as he nodded and patted the baby’s back.

“I’ll kill you if anything goes wrong.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the sound of that. You? Kill him? Never going to happen. Unless it were a double suicide, but you probably wouldn’t say yes.

And he replied when the slight fear in your eyes registered after remembering that he was your boss in the Mafia.

“If course, cutie. I give you permission to kill me if theoretically anything goes wrong.”

Dazai made sure to sneak a peek at your reddening cheeks before leaving his office with the baby strapped to his chest and tugging at his bandages like a little snake.

That’s how it all started. A boy and a girl who happened to have a baby.

He’d never regret how months went by as you two became closer and closer. Joking around, complaining about work, all the stuff friends did. Hell, Dazai even watched Yukirou sometimes.

Thank god Chuuya wasn’t there to see him watching children’s cartoons on your couch with a baby in his lap and a stuffed animal in the other.

Or how he insisted on covering some of your rent when you were struggling. Yukirou needs a home, after all. He sees himself in her a bit. And he didn’t want her to turn out like him. If he couldn’t change his own life for the better, he’d change hers.

And yours.

Much better than that dickhead that fathered Yukirou. You told Dazai about it one night when he stayed over after babysitting once more. Yukirou was napping in her nursery, and you two were sitting on the couch just talking.

Talking turned into sharing details of your lives, and he came up. Your old flame who ditched you. Breaking a promise that he’d be there for the baby and you. Dazai was silent all throughout it. Quiet when you spoke of the emotional abuse and stress that you had, quiet when you began crying over the fact you never got to graduate high school.

He was just there, daring to awkwardly rub your back as you vented. He wondered if you had talked about it before. Probably not.

Dazai felt like he too needed to share a story of his childhood too in exchange for yours. So he told you about the poor neighborhood he grew up in and the horrors he saw daily.

Did it lessen the impact of your venting? Most likely, but in his opinion, he was trying to show you that he trusted you now too. He assumed it worked when you fell asleep on his shoulder. He took care of Yukirou when she woke crying an hour later. He would’ve been a much better father than that bastard.

It didn’t help either that Yukirou began to see him as her daddy. He was there when she turned a year old, gifting her all sorts of things. Scolding her when she nibbled on his hands. Doing nearly everything a dad would.

Even when she managed to say ‘mama’ and ‘dada’ for the first time, it was when all three of you were in the room together. In her tiny mind, it was her family. Her mama and Dazai—her papa. Oda congratulated him for becoming a father when you came along one day with him to Bar Lupin.

It didn’t live up to Chuuya’s reaction when he first heard one of his guys call Dazai a doting father. The shortstack had gone up to him asking if he really was Yukirou’s dad—rumors went around at HQ quickly—and Dazai had to sadly reply that he wasn’t. Sometimes he wished he was. Months of time with you led to nights in bed where he dreamed of a universe that he was really the dad. That Yukirou had his brown eyes instead of her dad’s blue ones.

It wasn’t fair.

Nor were his growing feelings.

Dazai was smart. A genius thinker and planner. So of course he noticed how his heart began to rapidly beat around you. The sweating of his usually cold hands.

He’d had crushes in the past, sure. But it didn’t equate to this. Such a strong connection only made it worse. Was it wrong his Google history lately was filled with questions about confessing to and dating a single mom?

Did you even like him back?

That question couldn’t be answered by anyone but you. It scared him. You probably didn’t. Not as more than a brother, anyway. His suicidal ideation and tendencies scared off any woman who wanted more than sex. But he probably wouldn’t be living long anyway. So he’d have to shoot his shot eventually.

Which he did after another five months of consideration and thought. Dazai committed this act by simply asking you to sort out some notes for him. A total of eight. Each one had a single word on it. If you correctly put them together, it spelled:

‘I like you. Do you like me back?’

Much to his relief and shock, you did. You did, and he had hugged you so tightly. Tightening their bond, too.

So he became your boyfriend. And he wore the title of ‘dad’ to Yukirou gladly. The little girl saw him as her papa, and he couldn’t deny it. Even if it wasn’t biologically, she was his. And yours.

Dazai’s life used to be mundane and slow, yet with his new…family, he felt genuine happiness for once. A reason to live.

That was the greatest gift he could receive of all.

Regular Tags: @twst-om-lover, @xxcandlelightxx, @sinfulthoughtsposts.

Tags for everyone who interacted with this post (it’s over 100): @walking-simp, @hypocritic-trash-baby, @heartsfourdazai, @cheriiyaya, @depressed-monarch, @nyxt0t, @baby-tini, @h0nk3rs, @internet-angell, @cupidszvlvr, @owosamu, @my-dear-melancholy, @dazaibae, @nekomafumafufan18-blog, @cvsmois, @lizsano, @nanamiinto, @inojuuy, @reomarys, @mayanakahara, @briiscoolig, @maislovebot, @syona-sachyo, @xieqq2, @angelof-darkness, @moriiko, @fuckthisfuckingshit, @daushu, @wrynue, @amnda-ft-fyodor, @rain-alucard, @hanayoshiii, @moemoekunn, @thatwasa, @miiiloo, @probablyzombiedinosaurs, @mauviese, @chips-and-vinegar, @https-dazai, @rragudoru, @leyla3x0, @cheetozai, @jillyfsh, @rylerboi, @linaaeatsfamilies, @zorizoras, @onlinewhisper14, @komicoral, @anim3-simps, @theoddsinner, @caayye, @scaramow, @such-a-silly-little-gy, @bunnybs-stuff, @psychiclovecollective, @sleepy-yumi516, @fromjas, @suzurans-world, @mrstengenuzui, @mitislm, @tealover111, @edgarallanpoeswifey, @baby-tini, @yaz4luvv, @deliciouscandysalad, @isrealityevenreal, @briefcreationcandy, @astr3eaa, @underscoredaniii, @nolongerhooman, @notalooo, @ratinawetsocksweater, @tomiroro,

Rest in comments I’m crying now also if your tag is white it’s because you didn’t pop up when I was doing the @‘s

#bungou stray dogs #bungou gay dogs #aspiring writer #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #chuunai #fanfic #fem reader #pm dazai #dazaibsd #dazai x reader #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai osamu #fluff #bsd fluff #bsd tag #bsd #okay it’s lowkey shorter also might update later when I’m not about to pass out

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gators-aid · 4 months

Text

decode (pt. 1) - toji f. x reader

masterlist | part two.

previously titled: leave us

you and toji fushiguro have been in an on-again-off-again relationship all throughout high school. over the summer break after graduation, you find out you're pregnant. too bad toji has already skipped town after your last breakup.

tags: fem!reader, childbirth (not explicit), cheating, gun violence, mention of domestic abuse (not between toji & reader), teen pregnancy (reader and toji are both 18-19 range), mentions of abortion, mentioned that toji sold drugs, americanized setting, non sorcerer universe, 00's setting, reader is megumi's mom, toji initially denies megumi is his, i aged up gojo, geto, and shoko so you can have some frens, exes to lovers (eventually), their relationship is toxic rn, not beta read we die like toji :(

wc: 2.3k

You knew your chances of making it out of this town were slim, but in the back of your mind you had always hoped that you would be one of the lucky few. Finally, you had made it to high school graduation without dropping out or being shot, but you did not make it out unscathed.

Pregnant.

You didn’t find out until the summer after graduation, when you were still working out financial aid and payment plans with the money you had saved up working at a local diner for the past three years. Toji had already skipped town by then. It stung a little. Learning from his older brother that he had packed up in the middle of the night and left without so much as a goodbye was almost worse. Even though you broke up weeks before graduation, of course he had to throw in one more wrench in your life while he could.

It didn’t truly sink in until you told your mother. Your mother, who was so excited for you to get out of this town since she couldn’t. Who vowed to help you out with tuition payments to get you through school. It wasn’t until you saw her disappointed face that you became angry. Not only at Toji, but at yourself.

She had always warned you about Toji. How he was good for nothing, bad news, just a bomb waiting to go off. You, maybe too young, maybe blinded by love, brushed off her concerns. When he had to go to juvie for a couple months for an assault charge, you stuck by him until he got out. Filling his commissary account with the measly tips you earned from work when his family wouldn’t. Visiting him at every possible opportunity, even though the bus ride to the detention center was a three hour round trip. When he was shot in the shoulder and came to your window bleeding in the middle of the night, and you had awoken her, terrified to death that your boyfriend would bleed out in your bed. He refused to go to a hospital, meaning you and your mom had to stitch him up with rudimentary sewing skills. When he left a couple days later, you had sobbed into the bloody sheets your mom was helping you throw out. When you and Toji broke up for the first of many times, you had cried into her shirt for days on end. You ignored it all, and came crawling back to him every time.

The first time was because he had cheated on you with a girl in the class above you two. She was older, more confident, more experienced. You had to find out through word of mouth when a friend of a friend had seen them making out at a party you had to ditch for work. At that point, you two had only been together for a couple of months. Probably a bad omen and a warning for how the rest of this relationship would go. You cheated on him with one of his (now ex) best friends to get back at him. You were both young and were each other’s first everything. You had no idea how to navigate a relationship’s complexities, especially one as serious and tumultuous as the one you two had. It only took a bouquet of roses and an apology to get you to come back (in addition to that one dude getting his ass beat).

There was another time when you two had gotten into an argument over his attitude that escalated into a breakup. It was triggered when he had smart mouthed you about a simple comment you made, to which you threw his cheating in his face and you two began to insult each other for the rest of the night. When you arrived home two hours after curfew that night, your mother just held you until you stopped crying.

Your final breakup, the one before graduation, was simply because you were terrified for him. He was selling drugs, and you could see him looking over his shoulder every time you two went out in public. You gave him an ultimatum, and clearly he hadn’t chosen you. He was in too deep, and you didn’t want to have him showing up shot at your house again. Or worse.

You should have listened to your mother. It was all too much for high school kids. He could bring out the worst in you, but you figured that's just how it was here. You couldn’t count how many of your best friends had abusive boyfriends, abusive parents, lost loved ones to gun violence or something worse. Toji had never laid a hand on you, had never even threatened too, so at the time you thought you had it pretty good.

But Toji wasn’t all bad. He had his flaws, had done some fucked up shit, but you had never felt more safe in your life than when you were with Toji. He wasn’t affectionate in public, but in private, his favorite thing in the world to do was caress your hair until you both fell asleep. He loved to sneak into your bedroom window after your mom went to sleep just to hold you until you drifted off. When you’d pull doubles almost every weekend at the diner, Toji would bring you food from your favorite restaurant, and you two would eat in his beat up pickup truck until you had to get back to work. When you would visit him in jail for those couple of months, he always had a drawing or an art project made as a gift for you to leave with. For your first christmas together, Toji bought you a beautiful gold necklace that you hadn’t taken off a single time until graduation.

He put you head and shoulders above every other person in his life. He didn’t like to talk about his parents, but you knew they had given him the permanent scar on his lip in his youth. His brother was grade A asshole #1, and the uncle that he was placed with after a lengthy CPS investigation when he was twelve treated him more like a burden than a person. Toji clung to you. When it all got to be too much, and he was scared you would hurt him too, he would lash out.

And now there was Megumi. Years ago, when graduation was far away and you and Toji were in a good phase, you two had a conversation about what you would name your kids.

“Mmm.. I think I’d like to name her Megumi," he had stated. You two were in your room, whispering to each other as he had snuck in that night.

“And if this hypothetical child were a boy?”

He paused for a second and thought. You giggled at his face as he took longer to ponder. “Probably still Megumi.” He had finally said.

“Can I ask why that is?” You traced the lines of his bare abs under the covers.

He chuckled and leaned to hover above you on the bed. “Because if we have a child together, it’s a blessing for me either way, mama.”

He sure didn’t act like it.

It was a cold day in December when you gave birth to Megumi. He came almost a month early, nearly a week before Toji’s birthday. You had wondered, when your mind wasn’t clouded with pain, what Toji was doing as you laid there in the worst pain you had ever felt in your life. Maybe he was out somewhere celebrating his birthday early. Maybe he was dead on the side of some road. You didn’t know, but you couldn’t afford to think about it too much.

But when Megumi was born, you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything but love him more than anything in the entire world.

When you found out you were pregnant, you would have aborted if you weren’t three months along. If you hadn’t had your friends at that time, you don’t know where you’d be today. Gojo, Geto, and Shoko had all grown closer to you after that summer. Some people you never expected to see after graduation became your lifelines. You guys had been friends in school, sure. Shoko was even the one to tell you about Toji’s cheating. You guys had never been close until the three of them saw you at work and started cooing over your baby bump.

While your mom was the only one in the room during Megumi’s birth, those three waited outside for hours until they could meet your son.

The moment Megumi was placed on your chest, and you had let go of your mother’s hand for the first time in hours, you knew that Megumi was the absolute love of your life. You would do anything for him.

Over the course of your pregnancy, you hadn’t tried once to reach out to Toji. You were too hurt and angry to want anything to do with him. After Megumi was born, and you found yourself in your childhood bedroom with a crib in the corner, you decided you didn’t want Megumi to grow up without knowing his father, even if said father was a piece of shit.

So you had called Toji. It was one in the morning. You had just put Megumi down for the third time that night and stepped outside onto the porch to dial Toji’s number. It had been almost a year since you had last heard from him. You didn’t fully expect him to pick up.

“Hello?” you heard.

For a second, you couldn’t say anything. Frozen over hearing his deep voice for the first time in forever. Realizing just how much you had missed him. His voice was cold, but it was still his voice. You almost didn’t notice when you began to sob.

“Y/N?” he asked, a bit frantic at the sound of you crying. “What’s going on? Are you ok?” For a moment you couldn’t catch your breath, almost gasping for air. “Answer me mama, what’s going on?” It took you a couple more minutes before you could compose yourself.

“Yes.. I’m sorry. I’m okay. I’m just..”

It was silent from a moment.

“Why are you calling me?” His panic from earlier completely dissipated, he was back to a monotone pattern of speech. You paused. Leaning up against the door to your mother’s house. Contemplating how to tell this man, who, if you’re honest, is probably the love of your life, that he has a son.

“I, um, I have something to tell you.” You kicked a pebble off the porch and watched a car drive by. Toji said nothing, willing you to go on.

“I… I gave birth last month..” you said. You could feel your nervous energy manifesting in the finger nail you began to chew on. “You have a son..” It was cold outside, you gripped your sweater, one of Toji’s old ones, tightly around you and sat on the porch steps. You could see every bated breath in the frigid air.

For a moment there was nothing. It felt like forever, waiting for him to respond. Then he laughed. A cold, distant laugh. “How in the hell am I supposed to know if your kid is mine? I haven’t seen you in a year, I don’t know what the fuck you got goin’ on.”

He was pushing you away, probably scared. You knew that. But you weren’t mature enough to call it out. You were emotional, vulnerable, and now you were angry.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You whispered into the phone. “Do you realize you ruined my whole life? Left me here without a word, all alone? Now you wanna… what.. Try to claim I was cheating on you or some shit?” As you spoke, your voice pitched higher and higher, rage building.

“Who said anything about cheating?” He laughed. “You could’ve made your way around after you broke up with me. That’s your business.” You could hear people’s voices in the background, a woman said something to him on the other side, to which you could hear him distantly tell her to lay off.

There were the tears again but this time they were of rage. “So you get to go out clubbing, leave this town, leave me, and when I call you to tell you about your own… your son, you wanna call me a liar?”

“Left you?” This was the first emotion other than indifference or arrogance you could hear in his voice. Anger. “You left me. Don’t push that shit on me. I don’t owe your ass nothin’.”

“I left you because you were selling fucking drugs, Toji. After I had asked you, I begged you to stop. You chose that over me. You. left. Me. Seems like I made the right fucking decision because I’m not having my fucking baby around that shit. Around you.” By this point, you were practically yelling. You moved from your position on the steps to a corner of the porch closer to your house, pacing as you argued.

He laughed, “That’s perfectly fine with me, I don’t wanna be around some other dude’s baby, not my responsibility.”

Your teeth grinded back with every word. “I’m glad you think that way, Toji, because he won’t ever be around you. It’s fucking-” your voice cracked. “better that way.”

“What you fucking call me cryin’, trying to push some random fucking baby on me but I’m the fucking bad guy? Fuck off. Dates don’t match.”

“I’m not explaining myself to you, fucking asshole. Have a nice fucking life. I’m done with you.” You hung up before he could respond.

For a second you just stood there, watching your cold breath linger into the night. Then, you leaned against the side of the house and slid down to the ground.

No more crying over Toji Fushiguro. You won’t let yourself. You won’t give him another thought. You and Megumi will be just fine.

please let me know how you felt about this story! i plan to post the next part super soon! send me prompts and asks if you want too!! this is my first fic in this fandom and also the first time i've written in years, so forgive the clunkiness!

also let me know if i missed any tags!

thank you <3

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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mrsnancywheeler · 3 months

Text

the river (1) // finnick odair x f.reader

summary: the Capitol has taken you away from Finnick, the life you've been trying to build together and now he has to fight to get every part of you back

the end of a trilogy

the lakes previous chapter

next chapter

masterlist

7.2k words

warnings: angst, fluff, mental illness, suicidal ideations, self hate, young finnick and reader dynamics, a love triangle that was never a love triangle, smug finnick, it's so cheesey, pining, this is not a slow burn, implied soulmates, unedited, no use of y/n, allusions to trafficking, mentions of torture

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Finnick’s been staring blankly at the hovercrafts’ walls for longer than he can imagine, since it had stopped waiting and left you for dead in the dilapidated arena. He knew if he reacted the way he wanted too they would sedate him and currently he needed to live with his guilt. He should've refused to let you go with Katniss, or have torn out your tracker himself. Most importantly he should never have told you about the rebel plan, of course he only revealed the basics on how you were to get Katniss out of the arena and go to District 13, but that could seriously jeopardize any semblance of sympathy the Capitol would have for you.

He imagined you on the beach, devoting your life and love to him, and how before Snow broke or killed you, maybe even both, he'd never given you a proper wedding. All the traditions from back home, in a proper ceremony, with a dress would never happen. A large part of him didn't even feel like fighting the rebellion for you, since there was a probability that if the rebels one, you wouldn't be there on the other side to greet him. What was the point of a life if your future, the happiness, the children you could have had if all of this was behind you, if you were gone forever.

Plutarch begins to say something, but Finnick raises his hand as if to indicate he can't listen or speak right now. He's trying not to snap, not to take control of the ship so he can immediately perform his own rescue mission. Of course people were going to get hurt, even die, in the cause of the rebellion, but it was never supposed to be you. Why was he cursed to love someone who refused to patiently wait for him, who needed to be a part of the action? That's what had always been so magnetic about you though, the way you refused to fall into any constraints about how your life should be lived. Maybe, if you hadn't been left consumed by guilt after your first Games, you would've heard his plea and helped the rebellion from home, or he would've never told you about it at all to keep you safe. But that was wistful thinking, instead compassionate, worried, steadfast, beautiful you was in the grasp of the Capitol.

He decided he couldn't stay quiet any longer, he doesn't care if it's futile, what type of husband would leave his wife behind? For years you'd been fragile, like a bomb waiting to detonate, and he'd done whatever he could for you, he couldn't just give up on that now. You would have done it for him, you would have thrown yourself out of the hovercraft to save him, and knowing that hurt him and made him love you more. Finnick had spent years trying to prove to you that life was worth living even if you refused to admit that you felt that way, which in truth, caused him to grieve for the version of you from before the Games. The you that longed for a life that wasn't expected, to be lead by her heart and the wind, to be excited, until suddenly it was the you who didn't think she was worth being trusted, the you who stayed up wishing for death, and the you who wanted him, but felt guilty for it. Snow had taken that away from him, away from you, and now would take more from you. Finnick couldn't help but wonder how much was left to take, you had your compassion, your humor, your love, and if that was gone you'd be a husk of paranoia that he would desperately work to restore. Maybe death would have been kinder.

“Communications are down in seven, ten, and twelve. But eleven has control of transportation now, so there's hope of getting some food out." Plutarch says to Haymitch and Finnick can no longer be quiet.

"We have to go back.” His voice is hoarse, cracking with each syllable.

"I'm sorry, you know we can't do that. Her tracker was still in, they've definitely got her by now.” Plutarch tries to sound somewhat sympathetic, but it doesn't work.

“She's smart, she'll think of some way to pretend she knows less about the rebellion. If she can convince them of that, then she'll be used as bait.” Haymitch sounds so sure of himself, but Finnick isn't. You hadn't known too much, but not only were you willing to do anything if someone threatened him, you were like a glass sitting on the edge of the table, with one nudge you'd shatter.

Finnick starts shaking his head, “No, we have to-" Whatever plea he's started to make is interrupted as Katniss bangs through the door.

“Done knocking yourself out, sweetheart?" Haymitch focuses on Katniss, “So it's you and your syringe against the Capitol? See, this is why no one lets you make the plans." He's chuckling slightly, but only Plutarch would also want to laugh right now. “Drop it." He's forced Katniss to get rid of the syringe and sits down by Finnick, who's been infested with thoughts about how if he hadn't let Haymitch convince him of putting Katniss and Peeta first, he could've focused on you.

They're rambling an explanation of the rebellion to Katniss and Finnick is left once again wondering if he could hijack the ship. Snow probably wants him to, expects him too. You probably don't blame him, but Finnick knows your self-destructive ways. First, you'll try to find ways to end it all, and do nothing but mourn him, then you'll start to convince yourself maybe he left you on purpose, that you weren't stable or trustworthy enough to help with the rebellion, but you still wouldn't blame him, you'd tell yourself it's what you deserved. Finnick needed to be there to intercept the doubt before you ate yourself alive. Additionally, he didn't know how long he could last without you as an anchor, his sweet girl, refusing to acknowledge her own problems while trying to keep him afloat.

“I still don't understand why Peeta and I weren't let in on the plan." Katniss is saying, her voice just as broken as Finnick's had been.

“Because when the force field blew you'd be the first ones they'd try to capture, and, the less you knew, the better.” Haymitch explains.

"The first ones? Why?”

"For the same reason the rest of us agreed to die to keep you alive.” Finnick finally chimes in although he resents the words he's saying. He should've instead let you work your magic, try to convince someone to volunteer for him ahead of time, and stayed at home with you. If he stayed there was a higher chance you would too, yet maybe you would've gone over his head and decided you still couldn't live with yourself if you didn't volunteer.

"No, Johanna tried to kill me.” Katniss argues.

"Johanna knocked you out to take out the tracker from your arm and lead Brutus and Enobaria away from you.” Haymitch is seemingly getting exhausted and annoyed from all the explanations he owes her.

“What? I don't know what you're-"

Plutarch interrupts her, “We have to save you because you're the Mockingjay, Katniss. While you live, the revolution lives."

More words are mumbled and Finnick's head buzzes, it wasn't worth fighting the revolution if he couldn't do it with you. There was no way he could stomach it without your help, there's no way you would admit to it, but you kept him from drowning.

The way Katniss hisses at Haymitch helps Finnick zone back in, “Where is Peeta?" She's finally caught on, that her survival is without the person she loves safety.

“He was picked up by the Capitol along with Johanna, Enobaria, and-" Finnick hits the table interrupting Haymitch's train of thought. No one can be outraged at him for long though because Katniss has launched herself at Haymitch, screaming, and scratching, he's screaming back and Finnick is forced to leap into action. Katniss is only doing what he so desperately has been holding back on, how dare these people not understand that you had to be saved too. Yet he's dragging her off, back to her bed, to be tied down, sedated.

“Katniss. Katniss, I'm sorry. I wanted to save all of them, but I couldn't move." Finnick whispers, he doesn't know when he started crying, but he has. When the lighting hit the tree and Katniss' arrow had flown, the burst of electricity had left him helpless, frozen on the ground when he could hear you in the distance, screaming for him. “It's better for him, they'll figure out he doesn't know anything pretty fast. And they won't kill him if they can use him against you.

“Does she know too much or will she be used as bait, Finnick?" Katniss' voice is hazy in the mess of the sedation, but it's clear she's not very empathetic with her statement.

Finnick lets the tears take over him, weeping for you, how he couldn't save you. “I wish she were dead." He quietly admits, probably echoing something you'd agree with. "I wish they were all dead and we were too. It would be best.” Katniss is far gone, but Finnick can't stand his own thoughts any longer. He's basically begging to be sedated until they let him, he wants for it to stop the thoughts, leave him in a world where he's still with you. Even if you haunt his dreams.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

He knew of you, from school, from the similar social scenes, and you were well liked enough, but although he'd never admit it, Finnick Odair had never been confident enough to talk to you. Maybe it's because so many people spoke highly of you, but you'd never approached him. Shamefully he was a passive admirer, watching as you laughed at parties, nursed drunk friends, charmed customers at the markets. Maybe though he was scared that the person who everyone considered genuine would reject him as a person worth being around, see him the way he saw himself.

One sunny day in the market though he decided he had to take the step, see if were really the way people described you as, and possibly put to rest the infatuation he'd had for you. One that had really sparked when one of fair-weather friends, Beckett, had mentioned how you'd basically saved his life when he was drunk by a dock after another party. Kind, but brazen especially when Beckett tried to pay back the favor the next day by walking you home. Eventually the same night he told Finnick about you, he'd left to find you at the party and your magnetic company. You just seemed to draw people to you, a charm that Finnick couldn't resist much longer.

So there you were, flashing your tooth bearing smile to every potential customer. He'd talked to plenty of pretty girls before, but usually they introduced themselves to him, and the fact he barely existed to you certainly made you more intriguing. The moment the customer you were with was gone he forced himself up to your booth, one that was full of crates with huge crabs.

“Most of what the Capitol serves is from here anyways, so it's certainly not a downgrade." Your sweet, peachy voice spoke first and Finnick was somewhat taken aback, unintentionally sending you a quizzical look. “The crabs." You smiled, probably wondering why he didn't pick that up the first time.

“Oh, yes, of course, the crabs." He feigned interest in one, picking it up.

“You know, if you're not here for the crabs you better say something before I start listing off facts." Finnick decided he wouldn't mind that, your voice soothed his ears, but more importantly he'd been given a piece of who you were.

“Who says I'm not here to talk about crabs?" His natural playfulness shined through any persona he was scared he would have to put on if you weren't like he'd been told about, observed. For less then a second there was a flash of what must have been embarrassment in your eyes that quickly subsided with a shrug of your shoulders.

“They're caught in the-" Finnick couldn't stop himself from laughing when you diligently started on your promised list.

“No, please, you'll bore me to death. Guilty as charged, I'm not here to talk about crabs." He put down the crab he'd been holding, hands in the air.

You leaned on the counter, hands propping up your face, “Okay then, what are you here to talk about, Mr. Odair?"

“Finnick." He said almost too quickly for his liking, “Just wanted to talk to you." It was cocky the way he said it, but he couldn't help himself when you seemed so ready to bite back.

“Flattered, Finnick." You paused, like you were waiting for him to say something, “I'm working."

“And I'm a customer."

“Are you planning on buying anything?" Your hands moved from your face to the counter top.

“Maybe." He shrugged, his usual smug smile making its appearance.

You sighed like you were defeated, but your body language said otherwise. Maybe you'd wanted to talk to him just as much, but he'd been the one holding out on you. He'd like to think that even if it was presumptuous. “So, what does the Finnick Odair want to talk to me about?”

He didn't really know what he wanted to talk about, just that he wanted to talk to you. "The party, tomorrow night, are you coming?” It was a stupid question, you were at all of them, but much to his amusement you shrugged.

"Depends.”

"Depends on what?”

“Do you want me there?" You were bold and your aura exuded that even though if he stared deep enough into your eyes he could sense it hid other feelings.

“Are you flirting with me?" He clicked his tongue, head shaking as if it wasn't what he wanted.

“No."

“I don't believe you."

“Well it's your party, your house, I'm just asking permission." Your eyes widened, feigning innocence, and he decided you were nothing in short of perfect. Maybe he was just clouded because someone finally wasn't oooo’ing or ahhhh’ing at him. Or because he'd admired you from afar for so long that anything you said would be enough to draw him in. He also didn't really care because he'd made up his mind about liking your presence, more than that off any of his fickle friends.

“You've never asked permission before." The look on your face told him he'd caught you, that was your brain racking for a response before your face could slip back into its soft smile.

“You've never talked to me before." Maybe your words were even, but the way you fiddled with your necklace spoke measures to him.

“So you just show up at the houses of men you've never talked too?" Finnick teased, but he knew you'd always had plenty of invites from other people unlike the crazy fans who'd try to push their way into his home. Regardless, the parties were a way for him to keep up Capitol appearances and drown out his sorrows, so extra guests with actual connections to his social group hardly bothered him.

“If you wanted to talk to tell me it feels like I'm intruding, then you can just come out and say it. I get it and I won't go." You maintained a somewhat playful sound, but were so genuine it shocked him. So willing to give up your entire social scene if it made him slightly uncomfortable.

“No, I do want you there." He felt like he said it much too quickly, but he didn't regret it when your smile widened.

“Okay." You bit your bottom lip when another presence was ducking into the booth beside you. The local healer who whispered something to you. “You know you can have as many as you want for it, we can't thank you enough." You said earnestly. He handed you a couple of bottles of some type of medicine that you shoved into a netted bag before grabbing him a smaller box.

“Four or five?" The man said quietly and you filled the box with crabs before handing it to him. “Thank you, now you tell your mom I wished her the best and let me know how she's doing."

“Will do." You smiled as the man scurried off. “Sorry about that." Your attention was back on Finnick.

“Is your mom not well?" It was an obvious question but he wanted to show he cared, you just waved your hand in dismissal.

“She's okay, don't worry about it." So he respected the fact you didn't feel like opening up about it and moved onto playful banter again. “If you want me there and already knew I'd be there, why are you talking to me now?" You led the conversation back and it was obvious to him that it was a sore subject, perhaps you were one of those people who didn't like to trouble others with their problems.

“I can't talk to a pretty girl?”

"You talk to pretty girls all the time, Finnick Odair, and you've never talked to me before.” Your hands settled back up to support your face.

He leaned in closer, “Don't tell anyone, but maybe I needed to hype myself up before I talked to the prettiest one." Your laugh was addictive and he wished he could've seen more of how your face scrunched up when you buried it in your hands.

“God, you're treacherous." One of your hands decided to nervously play with an earring and the other went back to the necklace. “I bet that's what you tell all the pretty girls." Finnick's ears were blessed with another nervous laugh.

“Just you." He winked, grateful that he'd found an easy rhythm in talking to you. You were teasable, but would bite back, for the first time in a while he was glad he trusted his observations.

“You know flirting with the girl at the market to get free food only works for people not famous all across Panem."

“Good thing that's not why I'm flirting with the girl at the market then."

Your face was once again buried in your hands with a giggle, "You're dreadful. Is this how you usually entrap a girl, don't speak to her, and then it's all sweet talk?”

Finnick wished he could say it's because seeing you around gave him unexplainable butterflies deep within his stomach, but that wasn't a very suave explanation. “I had to make sure you didn't have a boyfriend first.” His voice was low and he could tell it was giving you goosebumps, or maybe you were just cold in your sundress.

"Oh, you're bold." You guffawed, “Besides you already have a hole in your story, there isn't a single person anyone would think I'm dating.”

"That's a bold-faced lie, sweet girl, most people think you do since he's always trailing around like a lost puppy.” If he was lucky you would melt at the pet name and you somewhat did before you scoffed.

"Who?" You didn't seem like the oblivious type, but so earnestly confused.

Finnick's eyes dragged over to a nearby booth where the subject stood, sulking and your eyes followed, “Looks like he might attack."

“Conway?" You shook your head so earnestly it made Finnick feel like he could blush from how ardently you wanted him to know you weren't taken. “No, no, no, no! God, no, he's just my friend. We're friends.”

"Have you told him that?” He smirked.

You were so cute, when you were biting back, when you were nervous, when you were embarrassed, he didn't know how a person could manage to be so adorable all the time. “Yes, he knows that, he's just, well he's just Conway. It's just a phase, he'll grow out of it." You rubbed your neck as a much more forced laugh escaped those perfect lips.

“Hopefully, looks like he's coming over to rip my throat out. Please come to my funeral, front row, no roses on the coffin, lilies preferably." Finnick pulled a faux terrified face as he clasped his hands together with his plea, successfully turning your laugh into a much more genuine one.

“Hi, Princess." Conway approached the booth and Finnick wondered how you could ever think he was getting over you. Behind the brunette's back he shot you a look, teasing you for as much which you seemed to instantly understand as you bit your lip with a shrug.

"Hey, Conway. You guys finished up?" You asked, that dazzling smile on your face.

“Yeah, mom was wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner tonight? Nixie and Delta had something they were excited to show you.”

“Yes of course! Tell them I have something for them too, and I'll meet you guys after I've dropped everything off at home."

“I'll walk you."

“I'm gonna walk her home." Finnick seized the opportunity, even if you said you were just friends he couldn't let himself lose the build up he was working for. Conway looked at him like he'd forgotten he was there and was angered to have remembered. “If you want me to, do you want me to?" Finnick looked back at you and you genuinely had a look of complete confusion.

"I always walk you home.” Conway said softly and Finnick wished he felt worse for interfering with another person's love, but he couldn't help that he felt a spark just by looking at you and fireworks in your presence.

"You wanna walk me home?” Your eyes were glued on Finnick, like you thought he'd just been bored and was going to leave after finding his enjoyment in flirting with you. He wanted to get inside your head, see why you were so vulnerable, prove to you that you deserved to feel better about yourself.

"Of course I do, sweet girl.” His voice was less focused on being charming and so earnest it rewarded him with the happiest, biggest smile he'd gotten out of you.

“I'll walk you home after dinner though, that way you're not walking home alone in the dark." Conway inserted himself once again and after a pause you shook yourself out of whatever haze you were in to turn to him.

“Thank you so much, you're so kind, Conway. Either way I still have to wait until everything closes or I sell out, so it could be a while."

“Oh, mom sent me over to buy the last half crate for dinner tomorrow,we've got some extra wiggle room, and we're all tired of trout and crawfish all the time. So a little something special until I'm sure we'll all get tired of the leftovers. Do you want to come tomorrow too?" He pulled out the money from his pocket to slip into your hand.

“Lucky you, I hope you all enjoy it!" You took the money to put into the small metal box where you must have been storing the cash. “I've got plans tomorrow or else I definitely would." You picked up a box to move the crabs into.

“Is there a party? You should've told me, mom won't want me to miss tomorrow and you'll have no one with you."

“Conway, as much as I appreciate the sentiment, I don't need to be watched over. I'm perfectly capable of myself." You handed him the crate, “Besides you hate going to them and I don't want to drag you to one just for you to mope in the corner."

“And I'll be there anyways." Finnick raised his hand as if to remind everyone he was still there and you did seem to soften when you looked at him.

“Yeah, Finnick, will be there. I'll be fine!"

Conway took a step closer to you as he filled his box, trying to whisper, but it wasn't hard for Finnick to eavesdrop. "You barely know him.”

You glared back at Conway and mouthed a ‘Stop it!" The much taller man seemed to reluctantly relent as he stepped away. “I just have to close everything up then, and I'll be ready to go." You look back at Finnick who nods and smiles.

“Let me help you."

“Oh no, you don't have to do that!" You quickly assure.

"Angel, I want to.” You seem to respond well to that pet name as well whereas Conway is instantly glaring into Finnick's head. He doesn't mean to be cocky, but Finnick can't resist a cocky shrug to the other man the moment you're going to retrieve your bag and the little metal container of money to shove into it. Finnick’s nimble fingers are quickly undoing the ropes holding the top up.

You exit the structure and walk up to him, “How'd you do that so fast, the knots always take me forever to undo."

Finnick can't hide his amusement with your awe,"Always been good with knots, I could show you sometime.”

You're nodding in agreement when suddenly your mouth is agape and you're playfully shoving him, “Finnick Odair, I hardly know you!"

“That's not what I meant, honestly!" He defends, laughing, and he's being truthful. It hadn't crossed his mind when he said it, he would love to show you how to tie a rope, he'd always found it calming. “Says a lot that your mind jumped to that though." He tilts his head and the way your eyes widen makes him wish he could feel how hot your face must be by now.

“You do barely know him." Conway mutters and Finnick wishes he would disappear.

You seem to regain your composure and point to the left, “I'm about 30 minutes that way, so you really don't have to walk me home if you don't want to, it's long."

“Stop worrying about me, I'm certain I want to walk you home."

You're nodding softly and biting your bottom lip, "Okay.” Swiftly you're leading the way, both men trailing behind and Finnick is annoyed that Conway is still sticking around, before he realizes his family's booth is in that direction. Suddenly you're stopping before basically leaping towards a booth, a fruit booth Finnick recognizes. “Douglas, you have peaches! Why didn't you say anything?"

The older man chuckles and gives you a knowing look, “Because you can't afford them and will barter me for them."

You gasp in mock offense, “So rude and after all this time too, Mrs. Damaris would be astounded by your behavior.”

"You know if you sneak me a couple of crabs tomorrow I'd give you a whole bag.”

"Your father would be angry-” Conway begins some sort of lecture when you're snapping at him like you'd also like to be rid of his presence.

"I know, Conway.” The look you shoot at him could kill, and Finnick feels a weird sense of elation knowing you're more peeved that Conway won't let you be alone with Finnick.

“Then I'm sorry, sweetheart, nothing's going to work on me this time. I've prepared myself."

Finnick is already pulling out his money, “It's okay, I've got it."

“No." Your resistance shocks him, he's used to people begging to be around his wealth and to charm you he's more than willing to she'll it out. “You're not buying things for me, Finnick. I'm serious." He says nothing, but doesn't return his money back to his pocket.

“Come on, princess, you'll live without one." Conway manages to still sound so kind and you purse your lips, refusing to satisfy the man you feel pestered by with a response. Finnick is busy trying to silently communicate with the vendor that whatever you try to barter he'll give him the money right after.

“My ring?" You hold up your hand, waving the finger around and the older man shakes his head.

“I can't accept every piece of jewelry you find on the beach."

You sigh dramatically and Finnick thinks he's finally been able to indicate to the vendor. “Mrs. Damaris would love this necklace, look it's got an actual ruby in it and I didn't find it. Someone gave it to me, it's worth a lot more than a peach and I only want one.” The man reluctantly exhales, glasses at the end of his nose, “Please Douglas, we barely ever get them here.” Your pout has to make you even more adorable and Finnick wonders how you can be so perfect.

“Fine!" The man grumbles with a sly smile and Finnick can tell the man would've taken the necklace even without the money he was about to give.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!" You gush as your fingers rush, struggling as you unclasp the necklace. Putting the necklace on the counter as the man hums. You take your time picking out the perfect peach before grabbing one, “I love you so much, Douglas, Mrs. Damaris is a lucky woman!" You began to walk off.

Douglas nods, “Sure she is, take care of yourself and bring some actual money next time." The moment your back is turned Finnick is putting the money on the table, with a little extra.

“Thank you." He mouths with a smile, grabbing the necklace.

“No, thank you. I've got no use for the necklace, or anything else she's given." The old man is shaking his head with a smile, grabbing the money. “You take care."

Finnick nods, catching up to you where he can hear another tense conversation between you and Conway. “God Conway, it doesn't matter. Tallulah gets me a gift every time I take care of her during a hangover because she feels bad, it doesn't matter. Yes it was pretty and I really liked it, but I'll tell her it fell off in the ocean and she'll buy me a new one.”

"You're just so careless sometimes, it's a fruit.” Conway shakes his head in disbelief.

"And it's just a necklace, what's your problem? It's not even from you, and it's not a big deal. I liked it, I'll probably miss it, but I might not have a peach for another year and Tallulah will have given me another gift by the end of the week for the hangover she'll definitely have from tomorrow night.”

"She's not a bank for you, and that trade was so uneven.”

"Why are you trying to make me feel guilty? That's not how I see her, I've been her friend for years and it's just how we work! You're being so weird about this and it's none of your business. I don't take her money, or ask for it, or let her pay for things, she just gives me them when I help her out!” Finnick finds himself being enraged at Conway for the way your voice shakes as you defend yourself, for the way he's making you seem selfish when you adamantly refused to let Finnick buy you something as small as a piece of fruit.

Finnick is suddenly standing beside you holding up the little heart necklace, it swinging in front of your face. You stop dead in your tracks, “Finnick." Your voice is so soft it makes him want to melt, "You don't even know me, Finnick. I don't need you to buy things for me, you don't have to do that. I traded it for a reason, go give it back.”

"He's much happier with the money, anyways, sweet girl. I have enough money to drown in, you're hardly breaking the bank with a peach. And I know you enough to want to do that for you. Can't a man buy things for a pretty girl?” You look like you might cry, but you don't allow yourself too and Finnick comes to the conclusion that you're not used to being helped, to have someone willing to just do things for you without some sort of transaction involved, and he's intent on changing that. "Red looks good on you, angel, let me put it back on you.” You're playing with your earrings as you finally slowly turn to let him clasp the necklace on. He adored the way you shiver when his fingers brush against your neck as he puts it on and the way you seem to miss his touch the moment it's gone. It's like fate designed the two of you to meet each other, to be perfect for one another and he's only just forced himself to talk to you.

He also gets a sick pleasure from how vexed it makes the other man vying for your affections. Within a few more steps you've arrived at the Delmare family booth and they're ecstatic to see you before they've calmed down. “I'll see you tonight?" Conway asks.

“Yes, of course." You offer a smile even though Finnick can tell you're still seething underneath and Conway nods somewhat sadly. You turn you back to him as keep walking, “So are you-"

“Yes, I'm sure I want to walk you home!" Finnick interrupts with a laugh and you accept the answer and finally begin to eat your peach. “Let me take your bag." He offers, hand reaching for it.

"It's okay I've got it.” You must have decided you're able to slip back into your normal playful tone, and he curses Conway in his mind for making you anxious enough to ever stop in the first place, “I know you must be used to women throwing themselves at your feet, but we are in fact strong enough to carry our own bags."

“You have an indent in your shoulder from it." He remarks, with what he's sure must be an infuriatingly smug smirk. You don't look at him as you seem to reason in your head that it is quite heavy and slowly pry it off your shoulder. He's grabbing it from your hand before you're even reaching out and although it's nothing for him, he's surprised by the weight. “Good thing I want to carry your bag even if you're a woman throwing yourself at my feet." He clicks his tongue as the two of you stroll down the cobblestone street.

You elbow him softly, “I'd say you're throwing yourself at mine."

“I'd agree and say I'm glad I am."

“Finnick." Your voice is suddenly much more serious.

“Yes, angel?"

“Seriously, why are you talking to me?" He assumes you must be trying to protect yourself and it hurts him to think you'd ever imagine that his intentions were anything less than true.

“Because I like you."

You laugh so delicately it could be carried into the breeze, “No you don't! We've never talked before, I mean you don't really know me at all."

“So you don't like me?" He teases, a glimmer in his eyes.

“No, I do, I mean, I just, that's different." You stutter through it, hands moving as you speak.

“How's it different?"

“Because you're you, you're Finnick Odair, everyone likes you and if they don't they're stupid. And I'm just, I mean I'm just some girl, who you've been trying to fluster."

“People talk about you too, I see you around, listen to you, what you say, what people say about you, and I've decided that I like you. And I think that if you didn't want to be flustered, you'd tell me. That's it, that's the explanation, and I'm talking to you so I can really know you.”

There's a silence where you must be deciding if you're satisfied with his answer, "What do you want to know about me?” The walk to your house seems to go by too fast with the stories and banter, the way you sass him back and then get ruffled when he makes flirty remarks before you make them back, and the way you savor each bite of that peach like you'll never have one again, which he'll make sure you will. He's already mourning your company when you're walking up to the door, “This is me, I know, it's not much to look at." It's a dilapidated little house, cracked, white brick and he can tell it used to be nice. You're slowly walking up to the door and he hopes you feel the same way he does.

"Go out with me tomorrow.” Finnick says abruptly.

"What?” You turn to him, trying to not act as giddy as he can tell you are.

"Tomorrow, just you and me, an actual date. It's a Sunday, so the market will be closed. We can picnic by the water, there's a lovely, private piece of beach in Victor's Village and we'll swim, we can do whatever else you want too.” He tries to sound nonchalant as he runs his hands through his hair.

"Okay.” You nodded, fingers running up and down the chain on your necklace. "Yes, I'd like that.”

"Okay, good, that's good.” He doesn't mean to seem desperate for your time, but he is. “I can be here at noon? I'll walk you."

“Yeah." You muttered, by now you're both standing at your front door. Staring at him and he prays you'll never go inside and just stand here with him. “My bag."

“Sorry, yes, your bag!" He pulls it off his shoulder and feels more embarrassed than he ought to be, “Sorry!" But you just laugh it off as he hands it to you.

"It's okay.” You're back is to the door, slowly pushing the handle. He wants to kiss you, but he's already moving so fast with everything else, he figures that he better let you have something to wait for even if it's disappointing to you know, it disappoints him too.

"I'll see you tomorrow, at 12.” He reiterates, feeling like a magnet being pushed away from his other half as he steps away, ready to fly back forward.

You do look somewhat let down as he moves away, but he has to be resilient,"Thank you, Finnick! Have a good night.”

"Have a good night, sweet girl!” He flashes his Panem adored smile and forces himself to turn his back towards you. Finnick decides he's glad he listened to the caverns of his soul when they called him to you. He can't help himself from being so forward with you when he's already so sure, like he's been with no one before, that you must be meant to be and he's running back to the marketplace praying that Douglas hadn't yet closed down shop.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Doctors occasionally hover above him and the ceiling is white, which is all he knows when he's in his sedated state. Sometimes they let him be without, but he can't process their questions, not when he's thinking of you which sometimes leads him back to being sedated when he starts lashing out at the nurses and doctors. Screaming, insisting you need to be saved. He's not sure when he asked, but at some point they give him a piece of rope which he diligently ties knots in to calm himself. It always seemed to work until he thought about how hard he tried to help you master different knots, but your hands would fumble. At some point he'd become sure that you did it on purpose so that his fingers would be by yours and his back pressed up against you, but he didn't care, it was heartwarming. Then he would fly into a fit again.

The same thing had happened when they'd brought him some type of dry oatmeal usually with a mix of berries that made it barely tolerable, once he could've sworn he caught a whiff of peaches in it that had him desperately trying to inhale the scent. Sobbing over the bowl until his nose was so stuffed he could no longer smell it, smell you and the sobbing became too uncontrollable. The doctors couldn't calm him down and he was once again sedated.

For weeks that's all his life was. Haunted by you, what could be happening to you, all the things he missed about you and trying to stay calm enough that he wasn't being restrained or returned to a cloudy state. Although the sedation sometimes brought back good memories he could dissociate into, other times all he could picture were all the things the Capitol, that Snow could be doing to you.

What if you were still being sold off like some kind of doll on top of what you were having to endure. And you'd have no one to comfort you at the end of the day which would drive you to insanity. Or he could picture you hypothermic on the floor. Or being taunted with jabberjays screaming in his voice. Or it could be a violent torture. He could picture thousands of unpleasant things that made him wish the rope was long enough to be a noose.

Sometimes he'd picture the last time he saw you, begging with him to not be upset when you parted ways with Katniss' insistence. Each time he thought about it he'd come to a different conclusion. Most of the time he blamed himself for letting you go, for not fighting harder to stay together or not tearing out your tracker right before you left even if it alerted someone of the plan. Sometimes he'd blame Katniss for forcing your hand in the first place, why couldn't she have just followed the plan that had been so carefully structured out. And on a rare occasion he blamed you for trying to follow the objective of keeping Katniss safe and leaving him, for not remembering to take out the tracker, for not keeping your promise. Which would then make him sick with himself for thinking anything slightly negative about your actions when you were probably enduring unbearable lengths of pain for him, for the rebellion.

On the lucky occasion where he wasn't heavily sedated he'd been anxiously tying small knots into the rope when the television began playing some mandated report from the Capitol and there was Peeta. Proclaiming how he and Katniss knew nothing about the rebel plan, that Katniss had coincidentally shot her arrow into the dome when the lighting struck, and how there needed to be a ceasefire. Finnick wished he hadn't told you about the rebel plan, that you would just be bait, not someone trying to hide that they had some semblance of information regarding the rebel plan to get out of the arena. He'd signed your death warrant and delivered it straight into the Capitol's cold hands.

Finnick got swept up in his thoughts of what he could've done differently, how much he despised himself for not doing so when suddenly it was your voice on that television screen.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

so exited to start the river with you guys and to explore reader and finnick's past more. thank you all so much for the endless support and for continuing to read my little series, ily all. as always reblogs, comments, and likes are super appreciated, and my ask box plus request are open even if they take a hot second more me to get through. again endless thanks to you all and love you 💋

taglist: @coriolanussnowswife @avoxrising @artsyaquarium @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @thatonegayloser616 @libertyybellls @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @ravensinthedaylight @innercreationflower @uhnanix @aesthetic0cherryblossom @yourdailymemedelivery @ang3lflor @maxinehufflepuffprincess @prettybiching @miserablebl00d @wowzabowza69 @nomorespahgetti @problematicpastries @abaker74 @nj01 @whens-naptime @sarcasticbooknerd12 @cakes-hq @honethatty12 @s1lngwns @alliex-o

#wanda 💋#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair angst #finnick odair x reader fluff #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x reader angst #thg #the lakes #the river #finnick odair fanfic #finnick x you #finnick fanfic #finnick x reader #finnick odair imagine #finnick imagine

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koipaper · 1 month

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YANDERE ABBIE CONCEPT

Pairings: Yandere! Abbie x Beloved (Yours/Your/Yourself)

Trigger warnings: Yandere behavior, Paranoia, Overthinking, Obsessive behavior, Worshipping, an OOC headcanon near the end, Manipulation, Guilt tripping, Probably OOC in general hhghd.

A/N: Despite being alive for only a few seconds, Abbie has become one of my favorite characters from Fundamental Paper Education.

‣ Stated in the introduction, Abbie is shown to be timid and the least intelligent in the class, as well as easily frightened in the animation as well. Him being a yandere is rather tame then most others.

‣ You're a student that had enrolled not long before Claire shows up, you never really noticed Abbie until you were paired with him for a partner project. Abbie was stressed and paranoid, what if he annoyed you with always asking for help? What if you just let him fail his part and he dies just like the other students here?? Oh gosh, he was terrified.

‣ The project was a take at home project, so you both agreed to exchange numbers and meet up at your house to get it done in time. Abbie arrived not a minute late, hands shaking like a leaf from his overthinking on the way there. You both greeted each other and sat down on the pillows you set up above the carpet so you both don't get sore. Abble couldn't stop worrying though. Almost everyone who has tried to help him has given up and left, what if your no different? However, to his surprise, you were very patient with him and even offered to work on the things he didn't understand.

‣ The rest of the night was fun, you both got to know each other a bit and you managed to finish the project within two hours. Abbie had told you that he wasn't smartest in the class, how usually his friend Engal would attempt to aid him but would fail because he was just too dumb to understand. So, you decided to help Abbie pass all of his assignments by doing it for him to save him from trouble. You already had his number, so you could just send him the answers before anything major like a test so he could write it down and pass. ‣ He agreed, and from then on, you both became best buddies! If only you knew that your little act of kindness caused an obsession to brew from the young man... ‣ How I write Abbie, his yandere traits would be Obsessive, Pathetic, Worshipping, Harmless, Dependent, Anxious, Clingy, and Tame. ‣ He sees you as a angel that was sent by heaven to aid him during his time at this wretched school, there was no denying it. He often praises you for how smart you are, as well as how kind and patient you are with him. He wants it all to himself... No one but him should be gazed apon with those loving eyes but him. You don't want him to feel like your abandoning him do you? ‣ Seen in official art, he was holding what seemed to be a love letter while Lana was pulling on his cheek teasingly. So maybe he writes love letters that he might one day send to his beloved to confess. These letters are his way to vent his feelings about you, since he gets too anxious to ever give them to you. ‣ SPEAKING OF ANXIOUS, I feel like Abbie would be in a constant state of paranoia that eventually you'll get fed up of helping him with his work. He'll die without your help! You don't want him falling to the hands of Miss Circle, do you?! Don't leave him, please! ‣ Abbie is quite obsessive when it comes to his crush on his beloved, he fantasizes about you, being in your arms, being able to kiss you, calling you his, he cannot wait! However, this is why he writes in a diary to prevent him from confessing too early. He'd die if you found out about his crush on you. ‣ Lana is no help either. If anything she more or so encourages Abbies crush on you (of course, she hasn't seen what lies beneath his lovey-dovey rambles about you, so she assumes that her best friend is just experiencing a normal crush.) If you ever come to her about Abbies strange behavior, She would shrug it off, saying that maybe he's just trying to show how appreciative he is that you stuck around. ‣ A bit OOC here (or just a personal headcanon of mine), Abbie's rather touchstarved, so affection by you feels like a high to him. Just a simple hug? He melts into your embrace. A small peck on the cheek? He's turning into putty as we speak. Holding his hand in the halls so you can get through a tough crowd? His face is flushing at the feeling. Even if the gesture is small, it fuels his obsession like wood to a fire place. He takes whatever he can get although, so there's that... ‣ Although, secrets can't stay secrets forever. You were invited to Abbies house to do another project just like when you first met. And you got curious and began snooping around his room when he went to get a drink for the both of you. Inside a drawer, you find a book labeled "DIARY: PLEASE KEEP OUT". You thought that maybe a itty bitty peak wouldn't hurt anybody, so you decided to read. ‣ Inside the first few pages were filled with words beyond words about you, mostly his thoughts about you. It was cute at first... until it started getting creepy.. The pages would be just word after word about how much he fantasized about you, how he felt every time he felt you were getting tired of him, and how he couldn't live long without you in his life before Miss Circle or any other of the teachers would kill him. He needed you, he wanted you, he would do anything just for you to be his. ‣ Before you could even react, a hand slammed the book shut causing you to yelp in surprise. Abbie stood before you, water in one hand and the diary in the other. His face was hard to read.

‣ His eyes were shaped like pinpricks, and tears were formed in his eyes, on the brink of spilling if you even dared to run. (His face is a ref to this.)

‣ "You didn't... You didn't see much, did you..?" He asked, his voice cracking and ready to break. Surly you didn't see much right?

‣ He hopes you didn't.

‣ He prays you didn't

‣ After all, he doesn't want to lose the only one who was patient enough to stick by him and his lack of intelligence. He NEEDS you to stay.

‣ He'll die without you, remember?

#yandere #yandere blog #fundamental paper education #fpe #abbie x reader #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere x reader #fundamental paper education x reader #yandere fundamental paper education

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tiddygame · 24 days

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ghost’s civilian wardrobe is nothing but hawaiian shirts. soap is in utter disbelief the first time he sees it. ghost says they’re good bc:

it’s so fucking ugly, no one can stand to look at it for too long so he doesn’t draw attention

No one thinks the ghost would wear something so bright and stupid meaning he’s completely under cover every time he’s on leave

they’re cheap and an easy thrift

but he just really fucking likes how goddamn ugly they are

…

at least, that’s what he tells soap. and himself. in reality, they were always tommy’s thing. he always wore them to the point everyone knew that the safest gift to get him was the ugliest patterned shirts they could find. in every family photo, tommy was the easiest to spot with the brightest eye sore worn proudly with a smile.

after that cold night in december, all of their stuff was either donated or thrown away.

one day, ghost was thrift shopping (because even though now he had more money, habits from being raised in a poor home die hard) and saw one of them. he froze. at first, he thought it was just one that looked similar. but when he inspected it, it even had that old tear tommy had gotten simon to fix and sew up for him.

he grabbed it in a daze. he searched every rack in that store and found a few more hawaiian shirts. if they were tommy’s or not didn’t matter. he bought them. for days, he hunted through every thrift store in town buying every stupid patterned shirt he saw.

knowing that the few shirts he collected was the only thing he had left of his baby brother finally broke him. he probably looked insane, sitting in his old beat up pickup truck, surrounded by shopping bags from different stores, crying into a yellow and orange button up with flowers on it, and one sewn up tear on the sleeve. but it was tommy’s. and it was all he had.

at first, they were hidden away in a box. he lied to himself that it was because he wanted to keep them safe, but in reality, he couldn’t look at them without either wanting to cry or punch holes in the wall.

but, one christmas, he finally pulls his head out of his ass and grabs them. visits the cemetery in a stupid yellow and orange monstrosity of a shirt and complains that tommy couldn’t have had a better fashion sense.

he wears another when he has to go grocery shopping. and again when he runs errands. and again. and again. and again.

the first time one of them got something on it, he almost cried and pulled every trick his mother taught him about removing stains. the shadow of it persisted but the pattern covered most of it.

eventually, they became a staple of his wardrobe.

years later, soap watched ghosts careful routine he had for washing the shirts. they were always washed separately on delicate and air dried with routine inspections for any holes or tears. it would click later, when finding an old family photo, one with a young boy on simon’s shoulders and another man next to him in a familiar yellow and orange shirt, that perhaps simon hadn’t been entirely truthful when he said he just liked them.

simon was scared the first time soap did his laundry, but johnny always washed them with the same level of care, following the exact same routine. he still made fun of him (lovingly, of course), saying that crimes against fashion must run in the family.

…

and further down the line, years later, they will be old and graying with wrinkles, wearing matching hawaiian shirts. johnny will complain about how ugly they are yet will still wear it happily (and tune out simon reminding him that it was johnnys idea to start matching)

#he also wears those skull and wolf shirts tucked in with a studded belt purely for the despair in soaps eyes #soap fell in love with a fashion disaster and ghost will spend the rest of their lives making him regret it #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #i can’t tell if this is nice sappy or hallmark cash grab sappy #sorry if it’s hallmark cash grab sappy

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beingsuneone · 6 months

Text

Memories & Delusions

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

SYNOPSIS: Jason Todd is dead, you have to remember that; even if the newest villain in town is both incredibly sexy and reminds you of the boy you used to love.

FANDOM: DC

PAIRING(S): Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

RATING: PG

CHARACTERS MENTIONED: Bruce, Alfred, Dick, Tim

GENRE/AU: fluff, different timeline AU (not mentioned in detail but the timeline is different than canon), canon divergence, reader is kind of like Stephanie so NOT Bruce’s kids but she does live in the manor.

WORD COUNT: 3.9k

WARNINGS: Swearing, mentions of blood and injuries.

A/N: I could fs do a part two to this ;)

DEDICATIONS: Myself for having this idea for more than two years and finally getting it out in writing in some way

CREDITS: N/A

“Jesus Christ! Who the fuck is this guy, Batman?” You exclaim, panting hard through your mask; whoever this Red Hood guy is… he really knows your team's weaknesses. It’s disconcerting.

Weirdly enough, he’s left you mostly alone.

Bruce shrugs from across the room. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

It’s a blur of movement as Red Hood tries to attack mostly Bruce, only attacking Dick or you if you get in the way.

He’s said almost nothing since this fight started.

After a few minutes, Bruce sends a signal and jumps out of the half destroyed building; Dick follows and jumps out shortly after.

Leaving just you and Gothams latest criminal.

You’re about to turn to jump again, when suddenly your wrist is caught in Red Hood’s hand.

The familiarity of it makes you gasp and freeze.

He stares down at you, intimidating and silent through his red helmet.

Returning his stare, with as much fiery energy as you can muster, you try to pull your wrist away; His grip is like iron and you can’t.

“Don’t get in my way, Y/n.” He says, making your heart drop with the use of your civilian name. “I won’t choose between you and my goal.”

Your back is rigid and you’re breathing has stopped… if he knows your name, that means he probably knows everyone else’s too.

Fuck.

He finally lets go, brushing past your stiff body.

You’re too shocked to follow him.

….

“He knew my name, Bruce!” You say, feeling panicked. “Do you know what that means?”

Bruce nods curtly. “It means you aren’t suiting up until we’ve taken him down.” You try to protest but Bruce holds a hand up to cut you off. “It’s not up for discussion.”

You fidget with the small red pendant hanging around your neck, something you do whenever you’re feeling too many emotions.

It reminds you of Jason, the first boy you’ve ever been in love with and also the last; Jason was also Bruce’s second adopted son.

Jason Todd died five years ago.

But when he was alive… There was something special about him. He was always so eager to help Bruce by being robin.

That was back before you had your own suit; really, you’d only gotten a superhero identity so you could hunt down the joker and get revenge for Jason, but Bruce had managed to convince you not to do that in the last five years.

Probably for the best, even if seventeen is too young for someone to die; even if having a strong bond ripped away from you before it could become anything still hurt so badly.

You follow Bruce down into the batcave. “What do we know about Red Hood? Do we have any idea how he originated? It seems like he just popped out of nowhere.”

Bruce contemplates his answer as he unlocks the bat computer. “All we know is that he would have had to fly under our radar for months in order to take over the whole underground drug ring.”

You over hover his shoulder, trying to see what’s on the screen below him. “I don’t understand how we wouldn’t hear anything about him? With that many people who work for him, you’d think one of them would mention something.”

He hums in response. “They must be terrified of him.”

Alfred inserts himself into the conversation and ushers you back into the main part of the manor. “Alright, Miss. Y/n, You’re officially off duty indefinitely.” He pauses. “Like Master Bruce said, it is safer if you disconnect yourself from your hero identity.”

You frown. “If he knows my real name, he probably knows where I live.”

“He also told you, quote ‘don’t get in my way’ end quote.” Alfred tuts. “He clearly has no intention of hurting you as a civilian.”

You huff and head up to your bedroom, feeling like you really need to be out there but not really knowing why.

You suppose you don’t know what to do with your time anymore, now that you’ve been superhero-ing for so long.

When was the last time you read a book? Or watched a movie, just because you wanted to? It’s been too long…

Your bookshelves mostly carry decorative encyclopedias and other books that would bore you to sleep, so you leave your room and head just down the hallway.

The door creaks as you push open and clicks when you push it shut; then, you’re left in the silence of Jason Todd’s bedroom. Unchanged and untouched from the last moment he was in here.

It’s a little messy but nothing out of the ordinary for a teenage boy; the bed was never made, and his clothes were ever put in his drawers despite them being washed.

There’s books pulled out and just scattered in places, schoolbooks, comic books, novels… finally you spot what you wanted to find.

It’s a very old and very worn copy of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, something the two of you used to read together when you’d sneak onto the roof of the manor at nighttime.

You’d watch the stars and one of you would read the book out loud, until eventually you both would pass out and give Bruce a heart attack the next morning.

Maybe it was time to revisit that tradition, even if you were only reading to yourself.

Bruce and Alfred are in the Cave so you find your way into the roof and lay back. The shingles are definitely more uncomfortable without Jason to lay on, but it’s still a nice feeling nonetheless.

Just the act of laying under the stars with that book in your hands, makes you feel a kind of warmth that you haven’t felt in years.

You close your eyes and take a long, deep breath of night air; It’s fresh and ever so slightly damp, but in a way that makes you feel nice. The cold nips at your body in all the right ways.

Unfortunately, all bliss is momentary, and someone clearing their throat makes you jump a couple centimeters upwards.

You’re met with the bright red helmet of Red Hood.

“Pride and Prejudice, huh?” He says casually, though you're pretty sure he has a voice changer on, which makes his voice sound more irritated than it probably is.

You back up a few inches. “Bru-” Red Hood slaps a hand over your mouth before you can finish yelling for help.

You squirm in his grip, but he just maneuvers you so that your back is to his chest and you can barely move which makes your body lock up again— you can’t help the feeling of familiarity that settles in your stomach, or the way your body reacts to his.

Worst of all, he smells just like… no, it must just be where you are.

Jason Todd is dead.

And yet.

“Relax, Y/n, I’m not here to hurt you.” Something about him makes you listen and you relax your body. He kind of half-scoffs in response. “Are you done?”

You nod as best you can. He releases you.

“Who— why are you here?” You say, trying to ignore the fact that everything about this masked man reminds you of Jason.

Your chest rises and falls irregularly as he stares at you.

His head snaps away randomly. “Why should I tell you that?”

“Don’t answer my question with a question.”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.”

There’s a look of defiance shared between the two of you, or, at least, on your end. You can’t actually see his face so you’re really just assuming.

You spin away and blow out a labored breath. “God, I must be going insane…” Even the way he talks with you sounds like Jason.

“You’re so short, you look like a bunny who lost its carrot.” He says with a laugh.

“I do not!” You exclaim angrily, your mouth dropping open. “Okay, that’s it, I’m calling Bruce.” Your hand slips into your pocket to pull out your phone, and just as it's out of your pocket, Red Hood grabs your wrist; he traps it in one spot and yanks the phone from your hand.

He gently sets it on the ground. “Tell that fucker whatever you want, but wait until I’m gone.” The tone in his voice sends a chill down your spine. He seems so angry…

With that, he leaves, taken the same way that you took off the roof.

You stand there until you hear the roar of his motorbike, and then you finally retreat from the roof with the book clutched tightly to your chest.

…..

“I’m going with you, Bruce. You can’t stop me.” You say, already moving to try to grab your suit.

“No, you’re not.” He says sternly, blocking your path. “You need to stay out of this fight.”

You raise your eyebrows in challenge. “I’m going whether you let me wear that suit or not.” Bruce apparently doesn’t like this because he frowns even harder than before. You continue, “You can’t go alone. Dick is out of town and Tim is at school. Let me come.”

“You forget I did this by myself for quite a while before I adopted Dick.” He says firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Bruce doesn’t need your help, you know that; helping him isn’t your real goal.

Ever since the rooftop incident with Red Hood you’d gone into some sort of obsessive spiral over his similarities to Jason.

You feel like you need to talk to him again, touch him again… just to see why he’s so familiar; you feel insane.

The deepest parts of your brain scream at you that it’s not just similarities, that he really is Jason but… he can’t be; you watched them bury Jason’s body.

“There’s something else going on with you.” Bruce says, basically sizing you up.

You stiffen, which unfortunately gives away your next lie. “There’s nothing going on with me.” No excuse comes to mind so you don’t say anything more.

Bruce pauses for a beat.

“This has nothing to do with Red Hood.”

“Okay? Why would that matter?” You say dismissively, but also way too fast. “I don’t think keeping me locked up at home helps anyone.”

He sighs and finally caves. “Fine, you can come.”

…..

You aren’t sure how this situation devolved so quickly, but your communications got cut off a while ago and you haven’t been able to find Bruce or navigate very well through the rubble.

You’re bleeding heavily from a few different cuts and you’re pretty sure you sprained your ankle.

The faint cackle of the Joker makes you dive under a fallen piece of concrete, because if he comes this way he’ll surely kill you.

But the laugh recedes so you crawl out and sit against it instead.

You’re just about to start sobbing from the pain when you hear footsteps again; you go silent and try to move but you don't allow that.

You see a flash of red, and then Red Hood turns a corner into your line of sight.

“Christ’s sake, Y/n.” He mumbles. “What happened?” He approaches and drops down so he’s sitting on his feet, he stares for a moment, and you assume he’s assessing your injuries.

“You can’t call me that— here.” You hiss when he presses a finger against your ankle.

He stands up and takes both your hands, completely ignoring what you said. “Up. But don’t stand on your bad ankle.”

You grip his hands and stand up, holding your bad ankle in the air; Red Hood scoops you up bridal style not a moment later.

You squeal. “What are you doing?”

He stops walking and turns the face of his helmet directly toward you. “I’m taking you back to my base so I can help you get fixed up.” He interrupts you before you can speak, answering the question you were going to ask. “Batman isn’t here anymore, he went to follow after the Joker.”

It’s a rough walk to his bike, and it lasts for about ten minutes; ten awkward minutes of you being carried by Red Hood.

Red Hood who’s supposed to be a criminal and your enemy. Red Hood who brings you more comfort than he should just because of who he reminds you of.

He settles you onto the bike, pulling out an extra helmet before he speeds off.

…..

“Jesus, you sprained your ankle really badly.” He curses, performing whatever medical procedures as you hiss and whine at the pain.

He’s already stitched and/or dressed any of the open wounds you had and he saved the worst for last.

“Okay,” he says absent-mindedly. “I can’t do this properly with this thing.”

He reaches for his helmet but you stop him. “You’re taking your helmet off?”

He hesitates, then nods slowly. “I have to. If you don’t want to see, then shut your eyes until I’m done.”

You nod and squeeze your eyes shut.

He sighs softly and gets back to working on your ankle.

…..

“I swear to god, Bruce, it’s him. Red Hood is Jason.” You say, purposfully making your voice flat and void of emotion. “He has to be.”

Bruce just stares.

And stares.

Sympathetically, softly. But he stares.

“Jason has been dead for a long time, Y/n, and you know that.”

“No— I know, but he can’t be— that has to be him.” You back up into one of the chairs in the batcave, trying to calm your racing heart; you still try to keep a calm outward facade.

“What makes you think he’s Jason?” Bruce asks.

You weakly gesture at nothing with your hand. “Just look at him. He’s— everything about him is the same.”

Tim snorts from the computer. “The running drug rings and murders?”

“Not appropriate, Tim.” Dick says flatly and Tim’s face falls quickly.

You don’t blame him, you probably would have made a joke like that too.

Shaking your head, you stare at the floor past Bruce. “They sound the same, they talk the same way, they look similar— hell, they even smell the same.”

Bruce’s brows furrow. “How do you know what he smells like?”

“Uh…” you stall. “You know, close combat.”

Apparently, he drops it even though he clearly doesn’t believe you, because he asks another question. “We’ve never seen Red Hood unmasked, how do you know they look similar?”

You shrug. “They just do. There’s just something about him. I haven’t been able to shake the feeling for a while.”

It’s silent again for several long moments.

Then Bruce shakes his head absentmindedly.

“Jason is dead, Y/n. No matter how much we miss him, he can’t come back.”

But he’s wrong, he has to be.

Because no one is that similar to someone. You’re sure of it.

……

Your cheeks are wet and your eyes are starting to become raw from you rubbing at them.

Sobbing pathetically on the rooftop of the manor because you had to be reminded about a death that happened a long time ago is not the highlight of your day.

It’s stupid, going from sure of yourself, to telling yourself you’re so stupid for ever thinking it could be true in the first place.

There’s footsteps beside you, but you don’t look up. You don’t care enough to see who it is.

You fidget with the necklace around your neck as you sniffle into your knees.

Something clicks and then hisses as if air pressure is being released before you hear a tiny thud, and then someone pulls you into them.

You know who it is now.

“What’s wrong?” He asks quietly. You know you could look up and confirm your suspicions at any moment but you just can’t bring yourself to do it.

It’s not true, after all, because it can’t be. It’s not possible.

You shrug against him. “I’m reopening old wounds for no reason.” You pause. “Why do you trust me?”

He’s silent, contemplative for a while. “You’re you.”

You laugh dryly. “That doesn’t explain anything.”

“You haven’t even bothered to look have you?” His hand strokes lines in your hair. “You could. I don’t think I’d mind.”

“I don’t want to know.” You say, wrapping your arms around his waist. “I’m not ready for that.”

He nods, you can feel the movement through his body, even though it’s subtle.

You sit, wrapped up in his arms for a long while before he clears his throat softly and asks, “what old wounds have you been reopening?”

Your eyes well again, but you choke back the tears. “An old… friend, I guess. He died.” You start to pull back but you don’t look at his face.

Instead, you bury your face in your hands again. He lets you pull back. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

You shrug. “It was a long time ago, he just meant a lot to me— and it’s really hard because you remind me so much of him.”

He makes a sort of strangled sound and then clears his throat again but more rough this time. “Why do you say that?”

His voice sounds even more similar without the helmet and voice changer. This man is going to be the death of you. Maybe literally. “I don’t… I don’t know. It’s just everything.” You shake your head and laugh sardonically. “It’s driving me insane.”

“How did he die?” His voice is darker than before, and there’s a sort of undertone you can’t place.

“Brutally.” You stop, take a deep breath, and offer only a bit more context. “The Joker.”

He hums. “The Joker‘s alive and ruling this dumb city.” He pauses. “How do you think your friend would feel about that?”

“Probably about the same as I do. Sick.” You run a hand through your hair, purposefully trying to avoid seeing his face. “That’s why I became a hero, you know. I wanted to kill the joker because he killed Ja- um, my friend.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“People stopped me before I did something I couldn’t come back from.” You say, wrapping your arms around your legs. “I hope the joker suffers a terrible death, but I don’t think it should be by my hands. He wins if I spend the rest of my existence regretting it.”

Red Hood picks up his helmet and clicks it back on. “Right.” He stands and stares down at you. “I have to leave now.”

You shudder at his sudden coldness, and stand abruptly. “Okay, I— um, goodbye…?” You want to smack yourself at how unsure you sound. “Did I say something wrong?”

He shakes his head. “I just don’t know why you would ever regret ridding the world of someone like The Joker, that’s all.”

Stiffly, you nod and wipe your hands on your pants.

“Sorry about your friend.” He finishes, before leaving you alone on the roof again. “Too bad I didn’t know him.”

Basically, crushing any hopes you might’ve had that he was Jason.

……

This is an atrociously stupid idea, you know; driving directly into the den of Gotham's biggest drug lord is the smartest thing to do.

But Gotham's biggest drug lord is Red Hood, and you’re fairly sure he won’t hurt you. Mostly.

His lackeys though, don’t seem so forgiving.

“Who the hell are you?” The man who barks the question at you, is raggedy looking and has the worst, most distasteful tattoos you’ve seen in your life.

“I’m here to see Red Hood.” You amend quickly, “I’m a friend of his.”

“Yeah, right.” The other guard says, a bulky looking woman who is also insanely beautiful… unsettlingly so. “A fragile little thing like you, friends with our boss… please.”

You scoff. “Trust me, I’m not fragile.” Stopping, you contemplate whether it’s a good idea to start something, considering your ankle is still healing. “Just call him.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine, whatever.”

An old phone hangs on the wall and she picks up the receiver and quickly dials a number. “Hey, I have a woman here who says she’s the bosses friend— her name? I have no clue— Oi, what’s your name?” The woman barks at you.

“Y/n.”

“Her name’s Y/n.” She’s silent for a minute while we all wait, then she hangs up the phone aggressively and yanks your arm into her grip. “Lucky. Let’s go.”

The corridors are a bit confusing to navigate, but you’re mostly just following the woman, who seems very familiar with them.

After ten minutes you reach a door, it matches almost every other door, but it has ‘boss’ written crudely on it in spray paint.

“You’re on your own from here.” She says gruffly before stomping away.

You take a moment to collect yourself before you knock, and the door swings open before you can even finish knocking.

“Why are you here?” Red Hood sounds breathless behind his mask, as if something winded him. “How did you remember how to get here?”

“I’m… actually not sure.” You chuckle quietly to yourself as Red Hood pulls you inside.

He sits down at a desk after pulling a chair out for you to sit in. “Again, why are you here?”

Your heart seizes for a moment as if the reason why you’re here hit you all over again. “I want you to show me who you are.”

“Are you sure?” Red Hood questions slowly, his body locking up. “You’re not going to like it.”

You nod curtly. “Yes, I need to know.”

He takes a deep breath and stands up, coming right up close to you. Far enough that you could see his face clearly but close enough to have your knees buckling.

He reaches up and presses a button you can’t see. The helmet hisses and opens, he pulls it off.

And your jaw drops.

Standing there, in grown up glory, black hair, green eyes that used to kill you, is Jason Fucking Todd.

“You’re— You’re not— dead.” You stammer, almost reaching out to touch him before you yank your hand back.

You’re so irrationally angry and also relieved and devastated all at the same time.

Jason sets the helmet down. You can’t decide whether to hug him and never let go or slap him for waiting so long to tell you. “That’s a… complicated story.” He pauses. “I promise I’ll tell you that story but I just— can’t get into that right now.”

You nod slowly. “Okay… that means I can get fucking pissed now.”

You’ve clearly confused him when you wrap your hands around his waist and squeeze tightly while also cursing him out. “I can’t believe you waited this long to show me.”

You can see the smart-ass comment on the tip of his tongue but he bites it back. “I knew you’d find out eventually.” His eyes caress your body and there’s a look of longing lingering in his eyes; he seems to be contemplating something. “Fuck it, I’ve been waiting too long to do this.”

You barely have time to react as Jason lowers his face down to yours and kisses you; As soon as you realize what he’s doing, you kiss back.

His hands go to rest on your hips, as you slowly get pushed back into his desk behind you. When you hit the ledge of if, Jason lifts you onto its surface, and pulls back.

“I’ve wanted to do that since we were kids.” He says quietly.

You gently touch your lips, almost in disbelief. “I’ve been wanting you to do that since we were kids.”

All content belongs to @beingsuneone , do not repost, copy or post on other platforms without my permission.

#dc #dc x reader #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #batfam x reader #batfam x y/n #batfam x you #red hood #red hood x reader #redhood x reader #redhood #dc universe

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luna0713hunter · 6 months

Text

Dancing to the beat of our hearts

Zoro Roronoa x reader

Summary : being Zoro's lover,was a dream come true. Everything was perfect about him,but...when the night comes and you see couples dancing,you cant help but to wish for more...

Warnings : none, slightly hurt/comfort,Zoro being a simp for you,soft Zoro, FLUFF,gender neutral reader

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

"ANOTHER VICTORY FOR STRAW HATS!!!CHEERS!!!"

Luffy's excited shout echoes through the night,as everyone cheer and down their drinks. All around you,people were celebrating,and happily serving you and your crewmates drinks after drinks.

You and your crewmates had managed to save yet another village from pirates,and it was time to celebrate.

Everything about this village was absolutely beautiful;from the cherry trees that had blossomed just recently,making the scenery breathtaking,to its kind and warm-hearted people who knew nothing but how to love and be happy.

They apparently,also loved to dance.

When the song changes to something soft and more melodic,you watch from your place across the bonfire how couples start to gather around;hands being placed on shoulders and arms around waists. You watch and sip your suddenly too bitter drink as they dance,and the sound of their laughter fills the air.

Your eyes wander to the green haired man sitting next to the open bar across you,and your lips pull down to a frown;Zoro didnt like to dance.

You loved Zoro,of course you did,but ever since you two became a couple...things didnt get too different between the two of you.

Obviously there were small kisses here and there,and Zoro became even more protective of you if that was even possible,but you craved real romance. Like the ones you would see young couples do,or read in the books; running under the rain while laughing,going shopping or matching clothes,and of course, dancing .

You could've made a list of the dances you wished to have with Zoro on so many occasions,but you never asked. You knew Zoro;he wasnt a big fan of showing his affection openly,always choosing to show his love to you through his actions. So it didnt take a genius to guess he would absolutely rather die than to dance.

You swallow the lump in your throat and stare down to your drink. You weren't even sure what it was; probably something light since you weren't feeling even slightly drunk. Something sweet. Maybe cherry? It sure had a good smell to it. As you swing the last of your drink around the glass,you make a mental reminder to tell Sanji to get some with you back to the ship. A small smile graces your lips as you think about sailing tomorrow morning once again with your new family,but the happiness is short lived as a bitter feeling fills your chest and you find yourself blinking rapidly in hopes of not bursting in tear right there.

Was it too much to ask to have a romantic love life?

As you start to wonder whether to return to the Going Merry or ask the musicians to play some other song,a small tap on your shoulder makes you jump in your sit slightly. You turn your head,and find yourself face to face with your boyfriend.

At first, Zoro's eyes search yours for a second,before jerking his head toward the back,where the road leads to the cherry garden.

"come with me for a second."

you silently nod,and accepting his offer to help you stand,you take his much larger hand in yours and make your way toward the garden. And when you finally step inside,you let out a loud gasp.

You dont think you've ever seen anything more beautiful in your life;the way the petals of the cherry blossoms dance in the air and settle on your hair,the air having the sweet smell of the drink that you had earlier,and the moon shining the brightest you've ever seen-

And none of them could compare to the picture Zoro was making.

You've always loved Zoro;ever since the very first moment you saw him,the first time he smiled at you,and the first time he held your hand. You loved Zoro,and you believed with your soul that there was no one prettier than him.

But now,as you watch the flower petals dancing around him,and the moonlight shining on his green air as he stares at you with the softest look on his face,you cant help your heart from beating awfully faster.

You loved Zoro. And gods above,he was the most beautiful being in the whole universe.

You're so busy admiring his features that when his fingers brush against your cheek,you jump slightly. Zoro raises his fingers up to you hair,and you feel him pluck something out.

When he lowers his hand,he shows you a small cherry blossom that was trapped in your hair. And in that moment,when he raises it up to his lips,you swear the time stops all together.

Zoro closes his eyes as his lips make contact with the flower,and he slowly opens his eyes to meet yours.

"y/n," he puts the flower in the pocket right over his heart and as he takes hold of your hand,with the sound of his three swords clanking together,he kneels right in front of you. Your gap at him,and you're torn between laughing and kneeling as well.

"Zoro,whats going on?"

Zoro scowls at you.

"what does it look like I'm doing?"

"proposing?!"

"no," Zoro deadpans,and your face visibly falls, "that has to be special. Not out of blue."

Your face brightens and small laugh escapes from your lips

"then,whats going on?"

And for the very first time since meeting him,he actually looks embarrassed.

You didn't know he could feel that kind of emotion

"I'm planning to ask you for a dance,if you let me finish."

When your mouth slams shut,he sighs and unconsciously rubs his thumb against the back of your hand.

Your heart flutter at how comforting he can be even when he's not realizing it.

"Babe,i know I'm not the most romantic person in the whole world," when you let out a snort,he scowls again, "but i promise,its not because i dont love you."

He slowly raises to his feet once again,and gently leans his forehead against yours.

"i know i dont say it enough,but i love you." His hand find your waist,as your arms wrap his neck;your eyes shining with unshed tears, "and i will continue loving you until my last breath."

You let out a small sniffle when he kisses your wet eyelashes.

"sounds pretty much like a proposal to me."

"oh,babe,i promise you that after my proposal, you'll cry your eyes out."

You tug at his short hair and give him an unimpressed look.

"you're making my heart beat with your smooth talk,Zoro. Keep it up and you'll no longer have a lover to propose to."

And when he laughs quietly,you cant help but to pull him down for a kiss.

The sound of the music in the background,makes everything feel surreal. The way Zoro holds you so gently,and his lips moving against yours with urgency,reminds you how passionate he can be. And its right there,that Zoro reminds your how much he actually loves you.

The sound of the music is still audible in the background,so when he starts swinging you side by side,you cant help the giddy laugh that escapes you. Zoro gives you a gentle smile,and kisses your forehead.

"from now on,tell me what you desire. I'll make all your dreams come true."

And when you raise your head to lock your lips with his once again,a small whisper leaves your lips.

"dont worry. All my dreams had already came true the moment i laid my eyes one you."

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

P.s : thank you everyone for 400 followers!!!

#one piece live action x reader #one piece x reader #opla zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #opla zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x reader

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bitterchocoo · 7 months

Text

Coffee

Young Ranpo Edogawa | M. Reader

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"Your smell like coffee!"

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Coffee isn't Ranpo's thing.

They're bitter, sure the barista adds some milk and syrup in them but they're still bitter! Which is why he likes hot chocolate better. Unlike the bitter concoction hot chocolate is sweet and nice and warm, especially if you add marshmallows! Some may say that it's too sweet but not for Ranpo. It's just the right amount of sweetness.

And that leads to his confusion as to why his friend likes coffee.

Ranpo once saw [Name] drunk at least 5 cups to finish his school assignments. Like huh? Maybe it's a thing students have to deal with? I mean -- he's technically not a student so maybe that's why it confuses him to his wits end? Regardless the reason behind that habit Ranpo's not one to judge. After all, [Name] was the first ever person that understands him and doesn't shut him down like those adults were.

In fact, [Name] seemed rather fascinated by Ranpo's deductions and how he managed to know everything in seconds.

[Name] was the first person to do that... his first... friend...

So Ranpo's not going to judge him for something as petty as that.

The day Fukuzawa took him in, even though he won't say it out loud he was happy and grateful for it. And [Name] can't be any more happier to found out how Ranpo's life seemed to have a turn for the better. Even if Ranpo doesn't admit it [Name] had always knew about his struggles, his anxiety, his fears, everything. Which why he was beyond happy to found out about it.

Unlike Ranpo who seems to be very gifted in deductions and all.

[Name] is just an average straight A's high school student.

Ranpo has his life planned out before him, a path already build just for him, a path of being a promising detective. "The greatest detective" he'd put it. While [Name] have to find his own path.

Unknowing to all...

This set's him off the rails.

What is he supposed to do? What does he need? What does he want? People say to get a job that you like, that you enjoy. But what about money? Don't you need that to survive? But what if the job ended up being too hard and he'll not like it? What if it's boring? What if it's dull?

But then again what was the point? We all die anyways right? So what was the point in getting a stable and enjoyable job, and a happy life where we all just die in the end?

What if's and questions filled his head, day in day out.

He's not ready.... He needs more time...

But time won't wait for him.. or anyone in that manner...

Coffee is nice... It keeps your adrenaline high, give you a boost. [Name] couldn't help but enjoy it. That sudden boost of energy makes him more focus on his school work rather than his thoughts. Not to mention that they have quite a nice and pleasant smell the taste is also nice. Because of that [Name] would smell like coffee a scent Ranpo had grown to love, despite saying that coffee isn't his thing.

As time goes on, Ranpo began to be occupied with cases, while [Name] is busy with school. The two barely have time for each other as they used to. But they don't mind as it would just lead to them having a lot more to talk about once they meet again. It was nice... very nice... the warm and pleasant atmosphere...

"Hey Ranpo, since you're practically a detective now. Do you see a lot of bodies."

"Of course I do."

"So seeing one won't scare you? The scent of their blood and the sight of their dead, pale, and possibly disfigured form?"

"Of course not! What kind of detective get's scared of a corpse!"

[Name] chuckles at Ranpo's words, finding the small outburst to be entertaining in some way.

It was a rhetorical question...

It was a rhetorical question, right [Name]..?

Although he doesn't say it, Ranpo felt uneasy at the question. Why is [Name] suddenly asking about that? It felt random. Out of place. Completely out of the blue. It's common to asked that to a new detective, right? But why was it so specific? It probably didn't mean anything, right? But even so... Ranpo can't shake off the feeling that there's a hidden meaning to his friend's words... like a shadow..

As the days turn into weeks and the weeks turn into months and the months turn into years...

[Name]'s graduation day is growing closer and closer.

Ranpo can't be any happier for his friend, a friend he had grown to love... was finally going to graduate high school! He even requested a few days off for this special occasion! Not that he really need to as he could just walk off like usual. But still!!

As happy as he is, Ranpo can't help but have a gut feeling that something is wrong...

He can't explain it but... It's just felt wrong...

Like a dark cloud is hovering above him... dark shadow...

And....

......He's right as always....

The day before the graduation.

Ranpo received a case, which he had refused since he did requested a few days off for his friend's special occasion, but Fukuzawa insisted that he take it. Almost begging.

With no other choice, Ranpo accepts it.

But what he saw in the crime scene was one out of his nightmares.

He didn't even need to open the sheet that covered the body as his had already knew who it is.

The keychain attached to the book bag speaks for itself.

A keychain that belongs to someone dear to him... someone close... someone he had grown to love and adore... someone he was planning to spill his heart out to... someone he was hoping he could call his...

And the results of his deductions didn't help at all. It just made things worse as it revealed to him how much the victim was suffering. A pain that the victim didn't show until their last moments. A pain that Ranpo was too ignorant to notice. A pain where the victim decided that it was too much for them and wanted it to end.

"Why..?"

The next day... Ranpo graduated from a school he didn't even attend...

He did it in someone's stead.

Ranpo doesn't like coffee.

No....

He hates it.

#top male reader #seme male reader #x male reader #bsd x reader #bsd x male reader #bsd ranpo #ranpo edogawa #ranpo x reader #ranpo x male reader #bungou stray dogs x male reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs

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fuckmyskywalker · 2 months

Text

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 — 𝐒𝐚𝐦 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐞

18+, smut, milf!reader x sam, mentions of pregnancy, body changes, breastfeeding, reader is divorced, age gap (reader is in 30s, sam is 21), afab!reader/fem!reader. | word count: 1.8k (not proofread!)

I did this for free ;( </3 (/j)

“Thank you for watching him, you are a lifesaver,” You smile, kneeling to pick up your toddler. Lifting him effortlessly, the child rests on your hip and wraps his arms around your neck. You kiss your son’s forehead, watching how he struggles to keep his eyes open. “Are you sleepy, Mikey?”

Your son nods and rests his head on your chest, yawning. Sam smiles, biting his tongue and wishing he could lay his head on your chest like that. “Don’t mention it. You know I can babysit Michael whenever you need.”

It’s true. It’s not like he has something better to do with his life, plus the extra money is something he can’t refuse. Your son isn’t annoying anyway— like his stepsiblings— and he can always play Xbox in the living room with him until he asks for food and Sam microwaves him a hot pocket. Not the best meal for a child but feeding him properly is your job, not his. His job is to make sure he doesn’t die. Babysitting always comes with an extra pay… seeing you. Sam has seen you all his life, and maybe— just maybe he has the biggest crush on you. At first, it was somewhat innocent; seeing you share a glass of wine with his mother, driving around, tending your garden… that’s it until he began paying more attention to you (which gradually became more and more physical the more he grew up).

It was still somewhat healthy, but that was until you had your son. Seeing you pregnant and being the only 19-year-old at the baby shower, made him feel… different. He couldn’t take his eyes off your stomach for a reason, he did notice how your body changed and that’s when everything went downhill. Sam did everything he could to be near you. Helping you with your trash, helping you with your garden, damn, even helping you move stuff when your husband was at work. He didn’t have anything against him, but the lingering thought of a young man who had a crush on his older neighbor who was married was a cliche.

I can treat you better than him.

Being realistic, he couldn’t. Unemployed, thinking about dropping college every week, and with a tiny teeny problem with weed and cigarettes. He always drowned himself in cologne when he knew you were coming over, but that didn’t mask the smell and he could see your nose twitching every time he walked in— pregnant women always know when you smoked— which almost made him quit tobacco… almost.

When he heard the news about your divorce, he was thrilled. Delusional would be the correct word, but thrilled nonetheless. Sam tried to be subtle, and he could listen to your conversations with Robin about the downfall of your marriage if he pressed his ear against his door. Of course your husband didn’t treat you right, of course his dick was just enough to impregnate you and not to make you feel good. That only reinforced his illusions. Seeing you just made his hormones crazy, and he would never forget that one time he walked downstairs for some water— after jacking off to the thought of you— and found you in the living room with his mother talking about the current flaws of the government while you were breastfeeding. He’ll never forget how he got a peek of your breast.

So, naturally, when the excuse to spend time with you came with the label of “babysitter”, Sam took it. No questions asked. He would’ve done it for free but you insisted. He’d never do anything for free— but for you? Just say the word.

“Let me put him to sleep and I’ll be right back.”

He nods and watches you go upstairs, his blue eyes gluing to your ass in that pencil skirt. He needs to go to the company you work at and thank whoever decided tight pencil skirts were a requirement. Sam feels and probably looks awkward as he waits for you, tapping his worn black Converse against the rug. His fingers twitch with the need to smoke, but not inside your house and not in front of you. You hate tobacco. It reminds you of your ex-husband. When you come back, Sam smiles politely, trying to focus on your precious face instead of the open buttons of your shirt. He was tall enough to get a peek of your cleavage if he walked closer, but it would be too obvious.

“You want to stay for dinner?” You ask with a sweet smile. He is a weak man. He can’t resist that charming, beaming smile— and those tits.

He watches you cook, admiring every movement and every sway. If he focuses too much it will be counterproductive, he doesn’t want to get an erection in your kitchen. Sam says nothing when you pour a glass of wine and declines when you offer him one— he’s not a wine guy, but it’s not like you’d have a blue ribbon lying around your fridge. You don’t look like that type of person— insisting on just keeping you company. Listening to you is one of his favorite activities too, especially when you are distracted. He can see you all he wants, but like it was expected, he has to cross his leg to hide his boner. That was faster than usual.

As you wait for the vegetables to boil, you turn around to look at him. A frown etches on your beautiful brows and when you step closer, Sam’s heart jolts. Is he in trouble? Your hand raises and he expects a slap— but you just remove a little piece of plastic off his cheek. He had no clue that it was there.

“You had a little something,” You explain, smiling comfortingly. “Were you guys playing with his legos? I think the new set I got him last week still has those little factory edges that Mikey likes to peel off.” You know your son better than he does, so your deduction is spot on.

“Yeah,” He tries to smile back, but it feels clumsy. It’s not something he does often. “He isn’t like Ryan, he is a pain in the ass—” He stops, he should watch his language when he’s around you. You laugh, which brings him relief. “He is!”

You laugh again, and what a joyful sound that is. Sam chuckles too, just following along. “He’s a child, he’s still discovering his own personality.”

Sam doesn’t have the strength to say otherwise. If you say the sky is purple, then he believes you. Whatever you say, he believes it.

So when you compliment his eyes, he finds himself suddenly shy. He tries to play it off modestly, which is 99% genuine. He just wishes you could compliment something… else. Thoughts begin to spiral down. It’s like a rabbit hole that keeps going and going and keeps him awake during his most lustful nights, with his hand wrapped around his cock and peeking over his window with the pathetic hope to see you. His silence doesn’t go unnoticed, and you bring him back to reality by placing a hand on his cheek.

“You alright?” Your concern makes him nod and swallow. In his fantasies, it is the other way around. He is the one supposed to make you flustered. “You sure? You dozed off.”

“I'm great, don’t worry.”

Or maybe he is dreaming. Because you definitely aren’t leaning closer, tilting your head to get a better look at his flushed cheeks… and you are definitely not smiling and placing your free hand on his thigh. Your fingertips must feel so soft, your nails, manicured and a vivid red color must feel so good touching his thigh but his damn ripped jeans are in the way.

“Are you sure?” It’s a whisper, and he doubts if he heard the salacious tone in it. “You look… upset,” Upset wouldn’t be the right word.

His eyes betray him, darting down to look at your cleavage. He can see the edges of your bra, it’s lace, they are black. It must be a push-up bra because there’s no way your tits look so good this close. It makes him want to slide his cock in between them. You chuckle at his reaction but you don’t seem bothered by it. Not in the slightest.

“Cat got your tongue?”

He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. It’s embarrassing, really. Why is he acting like a virgin? “No,” He manages to croak out, fighting with his own urges to not look at your chest again.

“Don’t be so shy. I don’t bite. Unless you want me to.”

That does it for him. Launching forward, Sam crashes his lips against yours in a messy kiss. Something came over him, something that he had been bottling up for years. You giggle in response but much to his pleasure you reciprocate. Your lips are as lovely and velvety as he imagined, your tongue tastes like wine and maybe he doesn’t hate it anymore. Lifting the hand that still holds your almost empty glass, you use the other one to cradle his head. It is as if the little restraint he had left snapped. His hand cups your breast, squeezing it perhaps a little too hard. Fighting with your buttons, he breaks the kiss to look at your chest.

“Can I?” He mumbles, taking a deep breath.

“Go on, darling.”

He almost rips off your bra, yanking it down and groaning under his breath when he sees your tits bounce softly. Wasting no time he attaches his lip to your left nipple, sucking it eagerly and swirling his tongue around. The labret piercing feels cold against your skin but his mouth is hot and enthusiastic. For him is like a relief, for you is an adorable display of desperation. Brushing his hair, you moan in delight at the way he is playing with your chest, nibbling your hardened bud and taking care of the unattended one with his hand. He rolls your nipple underneath his fingertips, even flicking it gently.

“Good boy,” Those words make his cock twitch. There’s definitely a wet spot on his boxers now. He could even come in his underwear just by sucking your perfect tits.

Sam moans when you tug his dark hair, urging him to switch sides, practically guiding him. He could argue he doesn’t need guidance, but right now? If you want him on his knees, he’s ready to kneel and adore you.

“Why don’t we take this upstairs?” You offer him and he nods, still keeping his mouth around your breast, sucking harder. He bites this time, which grants him the most delicious moan. Your chest arches, almost smothering him in your flesh. He could die happily. “I wanna see what else that tongue can do.”

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya writes!#sam monroe #sam monroe x reader #sam monroe x reader smut #sam monroe x you #sam monroe smut #sam monroe x y/n #sam monroe fanfiction #sam monroe x fem!reader #sam monroe x milf!reader #life changing

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