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storiumemporium · 6 months

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Astarion As a Father

Fem!Tav/Reader

I FINALLY GOT A NEW KEYBOARD WITH FULLY FUNCTIONING KEYS LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I elected to write about something that's been giving me brainworms for ages, because I'd been talking about it with someone on here awhile ago and it just infested me. Astarion finding out you're pregnant and how he handles fatherhood. (Or, in this case, doesn't at first.) This isn't my best work but I blame it on the fact that I didn't intend for it to be THIS FUCKING LONG okay 😭

But without further ado, daddy Astarion:

Finding out:

When it comes to children, I think Astarion hasn't put much thought into it beyond 'me!? ABSOLUTELY NOT—'

He has no illusions about his state of mind and his faculties, you see. Astarion knows that he's fucked up, he knows that he's a problem, and he's only entirely too confident that any child unfortunately put under his care would likely end up just as damaged as he is, were they to miraculously make it to adulthood. He's just not equipped for it.

And, frankly, Astarion isn't even aware he can have children... That's just, not something he ever thought to question. He's undead, is he not? That should take care of the...fertility question.

Shouldn't it?

Truth be told, Cazador never told him of the possibilities because it was never meant to be a possibility. Astarion was too malnourished, his victims too short lived for anything to ever have come of it. He was supposed to die a sacrifice, not live to carry his own bloodline (hah) onward.

Were you to ever ask him about it, even jokingly over dinner one eve, he'd be very firm in the fact that it's a terrible idea and he'd be entirely unequipped. He would even go so far as to say he's the worst choice out of all of your past companions.

"Me? No. Absolutely not. I'm sure whatever little devil you managed to cook up would be the most charming child Baldur's Gate has ever seen... But even that magical explosive that fancied himself a God would be better suited to fatherhood, darling. I am built for luxury and adventure, nothing else." All bookended by typical Astarion preening.

So when the day comes and you inform him of the little life growing in your womb?

Nope. Not happening, not even a chance of happening.

The denial is strong with this one.

And when I say denial, I mean that Astarion well and truly blots out what you've said from his mind, as if it simply didn't happen at all. You never had the conversation, you never dropped the revelation, there is no child, he is not becoming a father.

It's not a lack of want— though he doesn't realize that yet— it's true, blinding terror. Before it was just a joke, just something for him to brush off with commentary about how terribly he'd do as a parent, better the uncle than anything else. But now it's a reality and to accept what you've said is to accept that he might well and truly destroy a child. But not just any, yours.

The traumas Astarion possesses heap onto his shoulders and slough off plentiful enough to make new oceans of it. Now, not only is he just beginning to regain his own autonomy, he's supposedly being given responsibility over a brand new life?

(It would only make sense for Astarion in retrospect, that the life you willingly sacrificed to nourish and nurture him would in turn allow him to grow a new life within you. The fool had just been too blind to consider it: The way, fresh off your blood, he could pull back from the delicate column of your throat and you would find his cheeks and ears and chest flushed with the loveliest shade of pink, eyes wide and soft and alive. The way his entire body would warm, going from corpse frigid to something just beneath normal. The way his once-still heart would slowly beat again.

He'd even asked you once- curled together on a familiar silken bed, foreheads touching and your hands clasped together between your chests- if you knew what it felt like to be so, so hungry that all you could even think about was about badly you wanted to eat? How food sounded so good that the desire became crossed and instead felt even more painful and nauseating? How it consumed your ability to make rational decisions, denied you the capacity to control your emotions?

He'd told you then, voice tender and timid and weak, that he'd felt like that every single day for two whole centuries, until the night you'd willingly laid down on that cot and put your life in his hands.

It was so simple really, of course you granted him the strength to create life. It was you.)

And of course it comes to a head before there is any chance at recovery. Your body begins to show the changes, you begin to swell, and Astarion only grows more avoidant and flighty. Because now he can't simply wipe the idea from his mind and continue on as if the child doesn't exist, the proof is there every single time he looks at you. He makes it very clear to you that he will not be returning to your side without a confrontation, a very potentially ugly one at that.

And ugly it is, explosive. Astarion hasn't truly had the time to recover from his life under Cazador, and all of those protective traits he grew remain sharp as ever, returning to the surface as if they'd never truly gone away to begin with. He sneers and hisses, tries his best to dig in and hurt you enough to stop poking his tender wounds. Enough to push you away so he can lick his wounds back open. He'll go so far as to accuse you of infidelity, though he regrets the words the moment they leave his lips, it's easier for him to imagine that you simply grew tired of him, that you were weary and longed for the daylight. That you wanted someone who could hold you beneath the sun, unlike him.

How you respond to this is entirely up to you, but just shy of throwing something truly despicable back into his face, such as Cazador, Astarion will apologize... eventually. If you remain stalwart and patient, if you have it in you to recognize that he doesn't mean his words, that he's barbing you with intent, Astarion will break down in that very same argument, his angry and accusatory rant will dissolve into an admission of deep insecurity and deeper terror.

But if you respond with anger? Justifiable, and Astarion knows that even in the moment as it's happening, but emotions rule him far more than he'd ever care to admit, and he will dig in and relish the reaction he's managed to draw from you. He will bristle and bite back until suspicion and bitterness fully claims his heart, and he aborts the conversation to hide in the shadows.

Astarion will wait until nightfall, until his freedom calls for him. The one thing that always manages to clear his head, even when you prove to be the cause of his muddying. It's a reminder, every time he steps into the cool and dark of Baldur's Gate, that Cazador is dead and he is a free man. That he can go where he chooses and when he chooses to, and not only that no one can stop him, but that you wouldn't even want to stop him.

And that truth is always what brings Astarion home.

Under the distant lonely stars and that cold moon, he has to remember that time and again you have let him. You have accepted him, you have not fought him on anything shy of a horrible mistake he wanted to make in a moment of weakness and hysteria. You have accepted all his deepest and ugliest wounds and kissed them like they were freckles to pour affection on. You fought Cazador for him, you defended him from your own friends. You even- at times- tested your own morals for him.

You wouldn't betray him, and Astarion knows he can't betray you.

Astarion would return to you late, curling into bed at your side, his eyes would not meet you, and his apology would come in the form of a simple confession. "I am... afraid. I am afraid."

Astarion wouldn't blame you if you don't forgive him immediately for his transgressions, he was cruel and you were vulnerable. But even then you'll find that your love doesn't abandon you again. He accepts- however frightened- that what you've said is true and is coming, and he must accept it. Mind you, it won't be perfect and it won't be romantic. Astarion doesn't know the intricacies of handling a pregnant woman, he's hardly tactful beyond his well honed and flirtatious lines. He genuinely loves you, but he's going to come pre-equipped as father material.

You need something? He'll get it with minimal complaint (but never none, you'd sooner get him to dye his hair black than cease complaining for the sake of it), he won't begrudge you your mood swings though he might be inclined to poke fun at you ever so often. And he will panic when you burst into tears for seemingly no reason, and no- time doesn't make him adjust, he will panic just as much the thousandth time as the first.

However, if it's any consolation. The moment your child enters the world, Astarion is a changed man.

When You Go Into Labor:

Astarion did the honors of informing all of your friends about your pregnancy, once he came to terms with it. And believe me when I say it is extravagant. The stationery and grandiose script that Astarion wields when informing everyone that you were expecting better fits a wedding invitation than it does... well. Very elegantly explaining that Astarion had accidentally knocked you up.

You can tell from the splotchy stains addressed to you from Wyll and Karlach that one of them had been crying when penning the message, Astarion has coin on Wyll, and you on Karlach. Lae'zel never responds to begin with and you know for a fact the Githyanki's response will likely come in the form of her simply showing up one of these days, unprompted. Jaheira personally and rather frequently visits as well, she becomes a sort of bastion as nerves take you over, confident and calm as she is. Halsin's "letter" arrives late, rather because alongside his letter is several little carved animals for the child's room, and mentions of a quilt he intends to bring along when next he visits. Shadowheart's letter, while congratulatory, contains an air of interrogation strung all about it, all aimed with pinpoint precision at the man responsible for your pregnancy and dripping with sarcasm.

Gale's letter is seven pages long, comes with a violet hued wax stamp, and multiple different inks in the most lavish hand he can manage. You daresay he's competing with Astarion. However, surprisingly, Gale's seems to be the most... helpful of them all? It wasn't your intent, you simply wanted your dear friend to join you in celebration, and yet Gale goes on to inform you that upon reading the letter he'd become a madman in pursuit of knowledge on pregnancy and giving birth. He admits that this wasn't a particularly fruitful endeavor, as he's rather confident that you're not a gnoll, troll, cambion, succubus, or any other variety of strange creature with strange metrics of procreation. Still, Gale directs the latter portion of his letter to Astarion quite pointedly, informing him of bookshops around Baldur's Gate where he might have more success.

Astarion scoffs, but you don't miss the way his fingers twitch and flex.

After the hilarity of this is resolved and you just begin to believe that peace might return to your soft little home in the city, the first of your companions begin to arrive.

This continues on for the next week or so, without you ever knowing that this had been planned- and without knowing that Astarion had been the one to plan it. It's a furthering of his apology, of his guilt over the way he'd treated you. Again, Astarion has no illusions of the kind of man he is, and the fact he's not nurturing in the sort of ways that you need- but he's not completely stupid and he knows you're scared. So... bring the cavalry, darling.

Eventually your entire home has become a crash pad for all of your dearest friends, your family, and you only grow suspicious of Astarion's hand in this chaos because he's surprisingly amicable to having his peace so thoroughly disturbed by 'everyone and their mother'. Truly, he manages to bite his tongue some of the time about them trampling his fine rugs and scratching the plates. He even seems... wistful about it. As nostalgic as you openly are at seeing all of these beloved people under one roof again.

Nights are filled with raucous laughter, clattering utensils, a table so thoroughly overcrowded that people are playfully shouldering each other out of the way for a chance to get at their own food. And Astarion stays faithful at your side, his hand perpetually clasped gently around yours, thumb rubbing over your knuckles. Days are never spent alone, no matter what it is you need to do, someone (if not everyone) is following you along. And though Astarion feels his heart ache that he can't join you, he'll be glad to know you're safe.

Besides, your companions are likely all taking turns tormenting, testing, and relentlessly teasing him about what is to come. He has his own hands full. He's starting to regret being such a generous lover.

And then your water breaks in the dead of night.

Remember how I said Astarion was far from perfect? This would be one of those moments that it really shines.

Not that he's particularly terrible, no. He's not actively cruel toward you, and certainly not dismissive, it's somewhat the opposite. Halsin and Jaheira end up the ones helping you, the only two with some iota of understanding on what was happening and what to do with and for you. The others, less experienced in "mundane" medical situations will take up the second most important role.

Prevent Astarion from catastrophizing any more than he already has been.

Karlach has been the sole force capable of keeping Astarion away from the wine, typically bear hugging him away from your cellar while Wyll tries his best to talk your lover down from a total nervous breakdown. Of which he nearly has, several times. It's not even the sight of you, specifically. He's okay with being at your side and holding your hand, in trying his best to provide comforting words that aren't laced with sarcasm for once. But the sounds you make, that's what breaks him. Astarion isn't good at hearing you scream from the pain, he isn't good at the choked sobs or your heavy breaths. The way you sound like you're struggling against death. It makes him want to crawl out of his own skin, fight assailants that aren't there.

And for a few hours there, in the midst of your labors and your exhausted, pained little cries, Astarion isn't sure how he can love the child causing you this much suffering. It's not as if Astarion was an altruistic man on his best days, as if he were particularly reasonable when it came to you. You've both come to a mutual understanding that were something to happen to you, no morals would be involved in the things Astarion would do to rectify it.

And now, here you are, suffering. Astarion isn't supposed to do a thing about it? He's supposed to be- what, overjoyed by it? It infuriates him, he's truly prepared to have a grudge match with an infant.

Until, as the sun is starting to creep up on a brand new day, it's no longer your screams that meet the air, but another's entirely. Tiny but powerful, high pitched little squeals of fury and distress. And your laughter, disbelieving, soft, adoring already.

Astarion has a daughter.

I go with the HC that Astarion had eyes like honey once, and that his daughter takes after that, along with the delicate points of his ears mirrored in her own. She's small, so small, but healthy and already feisty, wiggling as best as her tiny body can whilst still too heavy for her to lift and move.

You're the first to hold her of course, and Astarion will be at his knees beside the two of you. The expression he wears is something you've seen maybe two or three other times in the entire time you've known him- moments when you know he expected everything to fall apart, moments where he couldn't believe that the world was so good.

It's then that you can breathe for the first time, and know that both of your darlings will be just fine.

Once he does hold her, he's not inclined to let her go. Even once you ask to have her back, he'll simply move you into his lap, so that he can hold you both. It's better that way anyhow, having both of his girls in his arms. And Astarion will repeat again and again how stunned he is, he just can't believe it. Cannot fathom any of it. I think he's the type to say that he's speechless and then spend the next five minutes doing nothing but talking. It's nervous rambling, but still, speechless is not the term I would use to describe him here.

Astarion With Your Baby:

Once your little darling is actually in your lives, you get to see how hilariously unorthodox Astarion is with children. Especially his own. Astarion doesn't baby-talk like you or the rest of your companions, he speaks in the same exact tones as he would a grown woman. In fact, for the first few days you're adjusting to a child in your life, you sometimes mistake Astarion as speaking with an unexpected guest, only to round the corner and find him lightheartedly chastising his own daughter for her poor nappy conduct as he wrinkles his nose and changes her diaper.

He's disgusted by that, by the way. Absolutely hates it, complains loudly about having to do it. But if you so much as try to stand to help he'll force you back down onto your chair or the couch, something something not useless something something already up, darling. It's as if Astarion is simply allergic to admitting that while it makes him nauseous, he wants to care for his daughter. He wants you to rest.

And yes, Astarion is the type of father that thinks all other children are hideous little fecal beasts and his daughter is the only gorgeous little angel in the entire world. Perfect, can do no wrong. He tells her as such too, in the same deadpan voice he always uses, wiggling and stretching her legs.

"You know, darling. You should count your blessings, you're the only child I've ever seen that doesn't look like some sort of hideous, deformed bean. I can't be surprised though, with as gorgeous as your parents are." And though he rolls his eyes, he's unable to contain the grin that shows his teeth when she coos and squeaks at the sound of his voice.

And yes. Astarion dresses up with his child.

The older she gets the more he does it, little matching outfits and ribbons. Nothing that she would choke on, were she to get her mitts on it. (You had to be the one to tell him no, at first. He did throw a little fit about it, just a small one).

But it's not all lighthearted, good or bad.

There are times where Astarion won't touch your daughter, won't be alone with her in the same room. He fears it, he'll eventually tell you. His... affliction came with it's dangers, always. But he's always trusted that you could defend yourself, and you're big enough that he can't just kill you between one blink and the next. The same can't be said of your darling girl. She's so small and so fragile that, were he to lose even the slightest grip of himself around her, it could cost her her life. No doubt it would traumatize her for life, regardless.

You watch it, too. The way it pinches his brows and makes him wipe his palms against his pants as if he were sweating. Nervous habits creeping up his throat and causing him to pace about like a caged animal. It's during these times that you have to bring your daughter to him. Gently place her in his arms and remind him that he's loved her from the moment he saw her. And where once he held trepidation and queasiness at the prospect of fatherhood, you can see him care so much about this little bundle that he looks sick from it. A vulnerability he can't mask.

And of course, there are times he nearly weeps for other reasons.

Like when she takes her first steps, and immediately tries to run for him.

And Astarion knows he should let her tumble, that it's good to let her fall and get back up again, but the moment her unsteady feet cause her to careen she's safe in his arms. Little kisses peppered against her giggly face. And he'll tuck away against her to try and get his bearings back, but she'll pat his cheeks and tug his ears- and you'll have to distract her with a toy while he hiccups and sniffles down his need to cry. He wasn't ready for her to grow so fast, gone is the tiny bundle that could fit perfectly in one arm, now she's walking. How long before she's dating? Gods, should he be preparing for betrothal requests!?

"I want to be mortal." He whispers to you, one night. She's tucked between your bodies, sound asleep and wiggling from time to time. This is one of the rare moments you and your love can speak to each other uninterrupted, in the tranquility of the dark hugging around you.

It's strange that he brings this up now, you'd spoken about it several times since the Elder Brain had been taken down... But in the past few years since your daughter had been born, all of that had fallen to the wayside. "What brings this to mind, Starling?"

Your hand comes to cup his throat, as you watch and feel him work as if he were swallowing a stone. "I don't want to outlive this."

It's hard to blink the tears from your eyes, understanding the implications.

Were he actually two hundred years old, Astarion wouldn't survive well past the existence of his sweet little family.

He'd been more melancholy the past few weeks, after realizing that your daughter was beginning to function on her own. She was walking, grabbing things, talking in rudimentary sentences. She was even beginning to call him pa.

He'd cried, at that.

"I'll forget," his voice draws you out from that brief reverie. The distress is palpable, but runs low like the tide before a storm. "I'll forget all of this. I don't want to know what I'll become, then."

And when you run your hands up into his hair, to scratch lovingly along his scalp, he doesn't hide the shiver or the way his face presses against your palm, cold and smooth on your skin.

"We'll find a way, Astarion. I haven't given up yet... We just- she's too young."

It's both a strain and a relief, to know that. To be reminded that your daughter is still so small, that he won't be losing her- or you- any time soon. There's still time.

Astarion With Your Teen:

Arguably this is the best time between your daughter and him. It's simultaneously a surprise and yet- not at all? He's more like her confidante and best friend than strictly a father. He isn't one for harsh curfews and strict ways of dress- rather, he's the one she comes to when she's made some sort of mistake. Or when she's angry about something.

In general, Astarion withholds judgement of her, for better or worse. The unintended consequence is that you might become more of her enemy than Astarion, because he's less inclined to punish for questionable behaviors.

It's not that he's afraid of angering her or dealing with push back- rather that Astarion's frame of reference for what constitutes a mistake is ah... rather broken. Even in the beginnings of your relationship with Astarion, the mistakes that would anger him constituted dropping an entire building on his head or... risking being turned into a Mindflayer to help some old lady find her cat.

Not feeling up cute boys in alleyways.

As a result you'll likely need to have a few conversations with him about not being so lenient on her, because she needs to have structure in how to behave. Stealing things is in fact, not okay! And Astarion will listen, but he's always going to be a bit more of a friend than anything else.

A total gossip with her, too. You'll catch them huddled around the dinner table at night, both with a glass of wine (this was an argument that Astarion ended up winning, she's allowed one glass a week, but that's all!) in hand shittalking a storm together. Astarion has become the Baldur's Gate equivalent of a PTA mom, he shows up as stylishly as he can and beefs with the parents of whichever children have upset his daughter the most. And then when they get home they just toss it back and forth together.

But I want to stress, just because he doesn't punish her doesn't mean he isn't protective of her. Astarion is more protective than you are.

Once she begins dating you'll find yourself home alone semi-frequently, because Astarion will play the supportive, loving father part when she leaves- and immediately follow her out into the dark. He's had centuries to know what dangers lurk around every corner, and foggy memories of simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time before his nightmare began. He won't allow that to happen with his girl.

And it's funny, because Astarion will talk mad shit to himself while he does it. Logically he knows that she's with some teenage boy or girl, but it doesn't stop the petty, emotional side of him from rolling his eyes and sneering at the cheap one-liners and the dumb tactics that this would-be charmer utilizes. Really, taking her into dark alleys to get her to tuck into you? Going to a totally secret spot that Astarion has known about for at least a hundred and sixty years? Get real, kid.

And you have to try valiantly not to laugh when he comes home, huffing and puffing about it. Because you will hear every single petty thought he had the entire time, and you will know that he looks like a petulant child. It's very cute.

All in all, I think Astarion is a reckless, chaotic, petty father. And one that loves his child so, so much. To the point of ruin, to the point where suddenly staying in one place doesn't seem so bad, just so she can have friends. Helping people isn't the worst, just so she can know there are heroes in the world. Suddenly he's learning to bandage scrapes and kiss bruises, and having tears and snot on his clothes mean nothing compared to the grief of the one shedding them. He loves her in ways he didn't anticipate he ever could. Enough to know all of her ticks and secrets, to know when she's lying through her teeth and when she's being devastatingly obvious.

Learning to cook even when he can't eat, listening to her spin a story with a straight face and then- as she's stepping out the door- telling her to be careful with that boy and listening to her groan loudly as the door slams shut, a mischievous smile on his face.

Holding you and dancing you around, cradling you close with all the tenderness he has in the whole of his body and soul. Kissing you, calling you the mother of his child, thanking you for giving him something he didn't even know he'd wanted. A family.

Small and odd, but his.

#astarion ancunin #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin x tav #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin x reader #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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morganski-19 · 3 months

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The One with Shaved Legs

Eddie walks into Steve and Robin’s apartment, planning on asking if can borrow a charge since Nancy has banned him from borrowing hers. But instead, he’s stood there staring at them with a hand on the door handle.

“Oh, hey Eddie,” Steve waves a greet as if what’s happening is completely normal.

“If you’re going to ask for a charger, the answer is no. Nancy already told me you’re blacklisted.”

Eddie opens his mouth to say something, closing it and reopening it a few times. “I’m sorry, what are you doing?”

What they are doing, in question, has Steve with his leg on a chair, wearing the shortest shorts known to man, with shaving cream rubbed all over his leg. Robin is standing next to him with a razor, delicately shaving the hair off.

“Yeah that. Robin’s shaving my leg,” Steve rolls his eyes.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, finally able to step into the apartment. “But why?”

Robin stand upright, rising the razor off in a bowl and glaring at Steve. “Do you want to tell him why or should I?”

“I didn’t know, ok I didn’t know. How was I supposed to know?”

“Did he not show up to parent teacher conference?”

“Fuck he did, I forgot.” Steve runs his hands over his face, mortified.

Eddie clears his throat. “Explanation, please. Clue in the person not connected to your weird twin telepathy thing that you have.”

“Steve’s on a sex ban,” Robin informs. “He slept with one of his student’s parents, again.”

“Divorced,” Steve clarified, “I knew that much. And he was very hot, could you blame me?”

“Yes, always.”

“How hot?” Eddie asks.

Steve reaches for his phone on the counter and almost falls over in the process, swiping through his phone to pull up the guys dating profile.

Eddie takes it and stares at it. “Yeah, very hot. Not for me, but I can see why you went for it.”

“Thank you.”

Nancy walks into the apartment. “Oh, there you are Eddie.” She takes one look at what’s happening and immediately gives Steve a deadpanned look. “Sex ban again, seriously, Steve.”

And because the timing couldn’t be more perfect, Jonathan and Argyle show up and walk into the apartment unphased.

“I forgot, ok. I wouldn’t have slept with the guy if I knew.”

“Parent again?” Jonathan asks while already knowing the answer.

“Wait, how many times has this happened?”

“Too many,” Nancy says annoyed. “The first time was in college when he slept with the TA to get a better grade.”

“That was not why, it was not grade motivated,” Steve depends.

Nancy rolls her eyes. “Either way, he got a weird grade boost so we invented the sex ban.”

“It happens like once every year or so,” Jonathan fills in.

Eddie crosses his arm, still confused. “How exactly is this a sex ban?”

“We only shave one leg,” Robin explains.

“Yeah, shaving both would do nothing, now I get so disgusted by the feeling of my legs rubbing together that I won’t want to sleep with anyone. I can do with both having hair, or both shaved, just not one with both.”

“Oh, yeah that makes sense.”

“I shave my legs all the time,” Argyle says unprompted.

Jonathan nods. “It’s true, he does.”

“I like how soft they get.”

“Very soft.”

“You’ve touched his bare leg to feel how soft it is,” Eddie questions.

Jonathan shrugs. “Hard not to when he does that thing where he shaves and then makes me feel how soft it is.”

“Because I want someone to appreciate it,” Argyle reasons.

“Just because I didn’t say anything doesn’t mean I didn’t appreciate it.”

Argyle rolls his eyes. “Well, you could have said it.”

“Your relationship still confuses me.”

Robin finishes the last stripe on Steve’s leg, swishing the razor in the bowl of water. “Done, go rinse it off.”

Steve brings his leg off the chair and walks to the bathroom with a wide stance, so he doesn’t get any of the shaving cream on his other leg. He comes out with a clean leg.

“You missed a spot.”

“Even better.”

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low, @thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady, @apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic, @fearieshadow, @mentallyundone, @eightpackdiaz

#morgan's friends au #stranger things #spicy six apartment schenanigans #friends au #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #argyle stranger things #modern au #steddie #ronance #jargyle #pre relationship #for alll of them though

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axelsagewrites · 4 months

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Aegon Targaryen*Daughter

Pairing: aegon x mum!reader

Word count: 1904

Warnings: unexpected pregnancy, aegon having a bad reaction, absent father, mentions of alcholism and drug abuse, mentions of birth/morning sickness, aegon coming back

Part one here or read alone

Masterlist Here

“Pregnant? You can’t be- you’re not- how?” you sat back as Aegon shot up from your bed, instantly pacing the bedroom as he tried to come to terms with it. you couldn’t blame him you suppose. After all you’d spent a whole week trying to convince yourself it was a lie and your roommate had to literally slap some sense into you. “But we were so safe?”

“Condoms aren’t perfect I guess,”

“But you were on the pill,”

“Its only like 90 something percent effective, look I don’t know,” you let out an exasperated sigh as Aegon looked at you with eyes bulging out his skull.

He walked over and picked up the test, “Maybe you did it wrong,”

“I didn’t do it wrong Aegon I did 20 of them!” you snapped, instantly regretting it as he sunk down on the bed next to you.

You went to speak but he finally broke the silence but broke your heart at the same time, “You’re getting rid of it right?” ‘it’. the words hit like a brick colliding with glass.

“I hadn’t decided yet,” you admitted in a quite voice but loud enough for Aegon to rub his hands over his eyes before dropping his head between his knees, “But we’ll figure it out Aegon. We’ll make it work,” you told him, trying to rub his back but he snapped back up.

“Maybe you can,” he said, his voice cracking, “Not me. I can’t be a dad. Look at me!” he said, standing up and pointing to himself like he was an exhibition, “I am a fucking mess I can’t raise a kid! Ill break it!” he said as he started to pace again.

“They’re not it!” you yelled back standing up too.

“Don’t yell at me!” he screamed as he turned around, his eyes instantly softening when he saw you stepping back, “I’m so- “

“Get out,” you managed to grit out through clenched teeth, “You don’t get to talk to me like that. Leave. Now,”

Aegon paused, his hand half reached out to try comfort you before he sighed and turned around. He headed to the door with his head hung low, “If you need me to go to the doctors- “he started to mumble as he reached for the door handle.

“I won’t need you. ever. You’ve made that clear enough,” you forced the words out your mouth even though they burned you to even saw them. You saw his heart shatter, but you didn’t care as you laid a hand on your stomach.

Telling your parents was defiantly not something you looked forward to. You told your best friend Heleana first who offered to fly out the next weekend to see you, but you insisted you were fine. She however insisted on being there to tell your parents to make sure you were okay. the whole time you refused to tell her who the father was.

“Who’s the dad?” your mother asked after a very long and teary-eyed conversation.

Your eyes wandered to Heleana. She reached for your hand and tried to say something, but you cut her off, “I’m so sorry Hel,” you whispered making her tilt her head. You cleared your throat and spoke up so they could all hear, “Its Aegon,”

Heleana’s grip on your hand loosened as her eyes fell to the floor. For a moment you thought you’d lost her too btu then you felt her hand squeeze yours again, “What did he say?” she asked but she could tell from the look on your face, “I will fucking kill him,”

It was the first time you’d heard her swear but not the last time it was brought up when discussing Aegon. You ended up telling her the full story later that night and she was ready to fly out and kill him. the only issue was no one knew where he was. Alicent was used to that by now though you could see it begin to weigh on her know he’d been gone for 3 months.

You however were now 4 months pregnant, postponing school, and unable to hide it any longer. “Alicent?” you asked as you awkwardly shuffled into the room with Aemond and Heleana behind you as backup. Aemond had sussed it out pretty quickly though was equally shocked by the father when you told him.

Alicent smiled at you from where she sat on the sofa reading her novel, “Is everything alright dear?”

“I need to tell you something,”

Alicent was silent as she processed it all before suddenly taking your hands with a teary smile but a happy one still, “Thank you for telling me sweetheart. Its going to be okay,” And for a while it was. Well, if you didn’t mind the morning sickness and ballooning to the size of a small house. That and still no one had heard from Aegon.

Heleana had helped pick out the decorations for the nursery in your new flat. Yes, a new flat paid for by Alicent. Well technically it was one of her rentals she had inherited when her father died but she decided to let you live there free of charge as well as telling you she’d help out when you decided to go back to school.

Aemond helped you get a job in the restaurant he’d been at for years and even though working as a waitress could be draining at the best of times you knew it would be worth it. especially now you were holding your daughter in your arms.

She was adorable with tuffs of blonde, white hair covering her perfect head. She was such a giggly baby, always gurgling away with a smile. Heleana had to go back to university, but Alicent made sure to adjust her schedule to have the baby when you were at work. Everything was finally feeling good again.

“Hush little baby doesn’t say a word,” you whisper sang to your baby as your nighttime routine with her, but she was already out from a long day at the park with her gran. As you laid her in her crib you heard the doorbell ring.

You froze, watching your daughter who initially stirred but luckily didn’t wake. You quickly padded to the front door, shutting the room to the nursery as you did. when you looked through the peep hole you felt your stomach tighten but still you reached for the door handle.

“Aegon?” you asked as he began to turn and walk away, probably assuming you weren’t in.

He spans back around, “Hey. I- “he began to stutter, “My brother said I could find you here,” you mentally cursed Aemond but stayed standing in the doorway, “I needed to talk to you,”

“Maybe I don’t want to talk to you,”

You saw the hurt in his eyes, but you didn’t care. well at least you tried not to. “I should go,” he muttered, turning to leave once more.

You sighed. Even if you hated him for what he said he was still your daughter’s father, “Wait!” you called out, wincing at the noise you made. Aegon turned back, “Come in,” you sighed.

He walked in in silence, sitting down on the couch you pointed him to as you sat in your armchair. You turned to the table beside you and flicked the baby monitor on. “How is she?” Aegon broke the silence with his head hanging low.

“She’s okay,” you paused but decided to go on, “She’s got your hair but my eyes and all she ever does is laugh,”

“Just like you then?” Aegon smiled softly, looking up as for the first time in a year you shared a smile with him, “I’m sorry. For what I said, for even thinking it,” he began, the smile fading, “I fucked up. Nothing I can say will fix it and I don’t think ill ever make it up to you,” he took a deep breath before continuing, “But I won’t be my father. I don’t want to only see her at Christmas and sign some cheque to pretend I care. I want to be there for her, and you. if you’ll let me,”

He said it so sincerely, but you couldn’t help the pit in your stomach, “What if you leave again?” you whispered. “I didn’t even know where you went,”

“I won’t,” he said firmly, “I know I fucked up. That night I left, and I ended up back at square one. Maybe less than one. All I remember is me leaving then waking up in a field surrounded by broken bottles. I couldn’t face you after. Not after how hard you worked to help me,”

“I kept it up for a bit, the drinking. Bounced around some houses sleeping on couches. Drank myself to sleep every night,” he continued his ramble, all while his eyes stared at the empty ground, “Then one night I was drunk again at a party and some guy offered me something. I almost took it. but something just snapped,”

“I checked myself into rehab the next day. Aemond’s been helping me, but he refused to tell me anything about you or well her. I couldn’t blame him. I was there for about four months. Got sober. Got better. Got another therapist. Ended up getting some jobs here and there. I work down at the Carstark Warehouses. Pays not much but enough to get by,”

Aegon paused again and finally looked up, “I really am sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me or feel bad, but I am sorry,” he said as he pulled an envelope out his pocket, “Take it,”

“I don’t need your money,”

Aegon sighed as he leaned forward and held it out to you. hesitantly you took it. inside was letters though. You pulled them out. At least thirteen of them, you weren’t too sure as your eyes began to well up. Some were to you, but most was to your daughter. “I brought this too,” he said making you look up.

He was holding a white plush bunny, your favourite animal, with a bow on its neck. “I got it when I saw my mums post on Facebook with the baby. I thought she should have it,” he said as he reached out to give it to you.

You shook your head this time, “No. you should give it to her. not me,” you said as you stood up, “You want to see her?”

Aegon shot out his seat, rubbing the sweat of his palms on his jeans, “Yeah course,”

You nodded as you led him to her nursery, “She’s asleep so you need to be quiet. I don’t want to wake her,” Aegon nodded as you creeped the door open.

Together you both walked in and for a moment before you turned around you thought he might run away again. However, when you turned and saw his awestricken face staring at your daughter you somehow knew he wouldn’t. he tenderly walked over to the crib, a tear trickling down his cheek as he held the crib by its rails. “I can’t believe I missed her being here,” he whispered so softly you barely heard him.

“You’re here now,” you whispered back, rubbing a hand on one of his shoulders while leaning on the others. “Just please don’t leave again,”

“I won’t. I’m never going anywhere again,”

General taglist: @strvngestark @headinfantasy @meg-ro @427120lxld @obx-josie18 @ravenmoore14 @tessakate @justtilly @jjkjbhj @clairacassidy @valeskafics @meg-ro

HOTD taglist @jmii722 @hypocritic-trash-baby @starkleila @jacesvelaryons @sashadevil766

Part One Tags: @heavenly1927 @aemonds-holy-milk

#aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen imagine #modern Aegon Targaryen #modern aegon #modern aegon Targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon imagine #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #modern hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon x reader #game of thrones x reader

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arieswritez · 5 days

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puppy love

puppy love | yandere!mark grayson x afab!reader | MULTI-CHAP: 3

chapter 2

cw; DARK CONTENT!!! MDNI!!! reader is neurodivergent, ableism, growing up is messy & adults suck, angst, niceguy™/slight incel mark, childhood friend/bully!mark, mark gets his powers sooner, teeny tiny implications of pseudo incest (blink and you'll miss it), violent rape, threats of violence, & canon typical violence, stalking, implied murder, gender & body dysphoria, mentions/implications of disordered eating, mark teases reader about their body once, overall asshole mark, implied grooming (mark handles it but he's a lil bitch about it later), so, victim blaming, misogyny, the inexplicable horrors of being afab, objectification, sexualization

about; you don't know how long i could stare into your picture and wish that it was me i guess it's different 'cause you love him but i've got an interactive sick and twisted imagination and that's gotta count for something - not allowed (tv girl)

you'd found a boy that made your heart go thump thump, thump. and you knew very well how the rest of that story usually went.

your love was encompassing. asphyxiating and obsessive. and in the very first moment the two of you interacted, you knew, this could be it.

you didn't blame yourself.

you couldn't blame yourself.

blame the love stories.

the disney movies with the princes and the magic mirrors. breaking curses with true love's kiss. much like the fabricated sugary fantasies, your potential life with him unfolded before your eyes.

he could be the one.

true love's forever kiss.

you imagined it all.

movie theater dates, awkward parental meetings, proposals, a home, kids, pets. arguments. therapy, even. pushing through at the end. death. rebirth. trying it all over again in the next life.

all you had to do was get him to stick around.

you had to make him understand that you could be his true love kiss, too.

you had to be perfect.

. . there was just one miniscule problem.

the boy so happened be on the same baseball team as mark.

it's the way the two of you had met.

despite the fact that you were supposed to be there for mark: your eyes were . . elsewhere. your eyes - then your focus - had gravitated towards him even before the first pitch. and you found yourself blushing as you watched him stretch: holding his baseball bat over his head.

you'd made it your only goal to attempt to extract as much information about it from mark as discretely as you could. and frankly, you should've known mark would be able to read you like the back of his hand.

because he found out what you were trying to do embarrassingly quickly.

and he was just as quick to shut it down.

you hadn't noticed the boy before. not really. but since the baseball game, he seemed to be everywhere. and you were excited to find that he was the new addition to mark's friend group. you knew this because you saw him and mark sitting together during lunch.

which meant they were at least acquaintances.

so imagine your shock when you came to find out. . mark didn't like him.

everything about him seemed to rub mark the wrong way. mark would clam up the moment you mentioned your boy. he'd change the subject. or his mood would just straight up sour. he'd go quiet and avoidant. and when you kept pushing, he finally snapped.

your boy was stupid.

your boy was shallow.

"don't say i didn't warn you." mark would mumble.

but warning you wasn’t enough.

your boy barely looked at you.

and you weren't sure if it was in part because of the way you acted. . the way you looked. maybe he was so out of your league that he'd completely removed you from his radar.

you'd watch him from across hallways and excitement would swell in your chest when you found that you'd be walking in opposite directions.

you'd see him coming.

he'd see you.

time would slow as you walked past him.

your heart rate would pick up.

but his eyes would remain forward and time would pick back up again as soon as you were past each other.

all it'd leave you with was the bitter taste of rejection in your mouth and a deep ache of anxiety bubbling in your stomach.

the only thing that sobered you up were the dizzying possibilities.

he hadn't seen you. he hadn't noticed the effort you'd put in.

but eventually, he would.

you don't know what it was that grabbed his attention.

mark was vehemently against introducing you two.

you were at a loss until you realized that you'd just have to try harder.

whenever mark left for the bathroom, you'd made it a mission to swipe mark's phone during study sessions. you'd go through his socials and send yourself screenshots of both his follower count and who he was following.

it was a long tedious progress but eventually, you'd found your boy's account.

thankfully, it was public. which meant the the decoy accounts you'd made to snoop just in case he was private turned out to be a waste of time.

you looked through his followers and did your homework on anyone he showed a particular interest in. you'd even made a list of the usernames of the people who’s posts he interacted with the most.

and soon you became a master of disguise.

you studied them top to bottom.

those that went to the same school were far easier to emulate.

you copied their mannerisms, the way they styled their hair, you changed the cadence of your voice, the way you rolled your r’s. your clothing grew tighter and your slouch was now an exaggerated upbeat gallop as you chased after the object your new affection, hoping one day he'd notice.

. . and the exact moment he looked into your eyes and did a double take. . you did one, too.

it was completely out of surprise before you caught yourself and continued to saunter away from him with butterflies in your stomach: flapping their wings so violently it felt like you'd be swept away.

his attention was the most excitement you'd felt. . in a long time.

and you knew you'd do anything to retain it.

it was a sickly sweet feeling: syrupy, sticky. clogging your vascular system to the point your head swelled. the lack of oxygen only heightened your fantasies.

the attention was addictive and so, so good you found yourself chasing that high all the time. going to extreme lengths to get his attention. even if they’d end up embarrassing you after.

you never allowed yourself to wallow in the feeling of dread that settled in your stomach when you did everything in your power to get his attention, though.

specially whenever it made a smile stretch across his face.

whatever you did faded into the background.

it was all worth it in the end.

something was wrong with mark.

and he needed to get to the root of the problem fast.

he was looking at you. . differently.

he talked to his dad.

nolan had said something about the changing moods having to do with his powers. how being intense and passionate was just in his blood.

he talked to his mom about it. albeit in a more discrete way. he'd never be able to live it down if she'd found out you were making him behave a certain way.

she'd just chalked it up to it being puberty.

mark didn't know who to believe.

he just wanted to stop thinking about you.

his nerves were shot to shit whenever you were near.

senses heightened: you were a fog blanketing his brain until your voice carried with it a technicolor vision.

he could smell you coming like a damn blood hound.

he could hear your pulse while sitting next to you.

something was wrong with mark.

he knew it when his teeth ached when you'd stretched your neck: raised your arms over your head and let out a little sound of pain and discomfort.

something was wrong with mark.

when the day's turned warm and wet. . and your clothing became more revealing.

he could see more of you.

freckles and moles, blemishes and scars, he hadn't noticed before.

he'd follow sweat drops rolling down your skin.

smooth. soft.

he'd held you, once.

when was the last time?

something was wrong with mark.

he'd lay awake at night staring up at the ceiling.

thinking about how you'd looked while you concentrated on a book. while you looked down at your phone. while you listened to music: smiling when a song you liked came on.

your little humming. . but not singing.

never singing.

mark noticed you'd stopped singing in front of him when he started to make fun of you for it.

that, too, was how mark knew something was wrong with him.

the way your moods would shift like tides under a crescent moon whenever he'd said something excited him. he felt pleasure - a violent zap of electricity shooting up and down his spice - watching your eyes light up or darken when he'd say something to you.

about you.

i like your hair today.

light.

you talk so goddamn much.

dark.

i missed you.

light.

your stories take fucking forever.

dark.

something was wrong with him when he found his own mood depended on fantasizing on how he'd make you feel that day.

if he was in a bad mood, seeing you in one, too, was a sure-fire way to make his day a whole lot better.

something was wrong with mark.

when he'd have to smother the sounds he made while imagining you -

something was wrong with him. . when red, hot anger consumed him when one of his friends made a smart quip about your body.

when he couldn't just laugh it off anymore.

something was wrong with mark.

. . or so he thought.

because he'd later find out. .

. . no.

something was wrong with you.

all of a sudden: mark was the one double texting.

triple texting.

mark was the one asking if he could hang out. . and when the fuck did he ever need permission?

mark was the one seeking you out.

something was wrong with you.

and he needed to get to root of the problem.

he picked his brain apart in an attempt to figure out what it was. you couldn't be under any stress. you looked fine. better than fine.

you looked happy.

fucking elated.

to the point where mark couldn't affect your moods anymore.

mark wanted to know what the fuck you were so happy about.

why the fuck you were so happy when he was falling apart at the seams. when his world was crashing down.

and there you were, completely fucking oblivious.

mark had always been curious.

and so, he went to see you.

the two of you were in your room.

you'd excused yourself to go to the bathroom.

and mark started looking.

you were predictable.

he knew where you kept your journal. despite how many times he'd found it and read it aloud - holding it above his head whenever you tried to snatch it away - he'd always managed to figure out your next hiding place.

it was easier that way.

he pretended he didn't know where it was.

you pretended to have some privacy.

he pretended not to know every single, minute, insignificant detail of your life.

of your thoughts.

thank fuck you were still so naive.

thank fuck for dairies.

he'd found it in a box under your bed.

and after flipping to the page with the freshest set of ink. . he'd found out what your problem was.

you'd found a boy who'd made your heart go

thump.

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thehandymen · 1 year

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ok controversial opinion but. although spy x family and buddy daddies appear to have a lot in common (traumatized hitmen acquire a child etc etc) i really don’t think they should be compared. yor & loid, despite rushing into a marriage of convenience, are both pretty decently equipped to act as parental figures despite their unconventional backgrounds. yor has the experience of practically raising yuri from a very young age, and loid’s jack-of-all-trades spy career and general hyper competent personality means they’re able to handle anya and the whole sudden family situation better than your average single, childless, late-20s(?) adult. of course they still face a lot of bumps in the road/have a lot to learn, but what they do know from their respective lives and occupations definitely helps, and let’s not forget that anya is a whole telepath.

kazuki and rei, on the other hand, have absolutely ZERO parental qualifications. it’s pretty obvious both of them have lived through their fair share of tragedy, with kazuki and his presumed dead wife and rei and his brutal childhood, but they’re also just. really messy people individually. kazuki is shown to regularly hang around gambling houses/the red light district and rei is a wet sock of a man when not in uniform. miri is your typical 4 year old: wildly energetic, no filter, constantly making a mess, requires attention at all times, and so on. unlike anya, she cannot read the minds of those around her, which means the only way she knows how to “help” her papas is by unhelpfully inserting herself into whatever tasks they’re trying to complete (and if you’ve been around small children, this is super typical behavior). she means well but she often inconveniences rei and kazuki’s already precarious lifestyle. and frankly, that pretty much sums up the early years of parenthood.

kids are a lot of work. raising a child, even when you’re a “normal,” well-adjusted adult is really tough. but it’s supposed to be fulfilling, and it’s supposed to be something that parents view as “worth it.” we can’t really blame miri’s mom for resenting her so much when she never wanted to be a mom in the first place (and it’s clear she’s not suited to it, either). kazuki’s argument with miri’s mom demonstrates that his concept of parenthood is pretty idealistic, although not incorrect. kazuki may like the idea of protecting a child’s happiness, but he doesn’t realize the difficulty of the logistics involved, which we see in the daycare episode. we also see in the daycare episode that rei has no clue what a traditional childhood looks like. it’s implied he never went to school and doesn’t really understand how children usually act.

kazuki and rei are arguably much less qualified than yor and loid to be parents, and therefore the buddy daddies family dynamic is going to be way more dysfunctional in a way that viewers may find bordering annoying rather than comically chaotic (i’ve read the crunchyroll comments). the same goes for miri, who is your average run of the mill small child, and not some super kawaii esper. but kazuki and rei are trying their best, in their own ways, and it’s clear that miri is going to brighten up their lives in really touching ways. so buddy daddies is definitely still worth a watch, especially if you already enjoy spy x family, but people should keep in mind that buddy daddies is not the “ripoff” of spy x family i’ve seen people say.

#i did not intend for this to get so long. but clearly i have opinions #i should stop reading the crunchyroll comments #to be fair they've improved #but also i can't not ignore the lingering person who just Doesn't Get It #buddy daddies #spy x family #kazuki kurusu #kurusu kazuki #suwa rei #rei suwa #unasaka miri #miri unasaka #loid forger #yor forger #anya forger #kazuki papa #rei papa #sxf

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creative-crybaby · 1 year

Text

Birds of a Feather (Flock Together)

PAIRING: yan!timeskip!Kageyama Tobio x fem!reader

GENRE: smut | dark content (18+)

Minors DNI

TAGS + WARNINGS: yandere themes, toxic friendship, nipple play, light manhandling, semi-public sex, creampie

Let me know if I missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 6.6k

SUMMARY: What was supposed to be a helping hand became an unhealthy relationship when Kageyama mistakes your kindness for something more. All characters are 18+

@creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify

Now that you think about it, you’ve always been too nice for your own good.

Not that it’s your fault. Your parents raised you that way; show kindness to others whenever the opportunity presented itself. The limit of knowing when to stop never came up, opting to believe that your positive behaviour would be contagious. Wishful thinking, of course. You don’t blame your parents for those drawbacks—their boundless optimism, perhaps, but that’s all.

You wished reality showed some mercy when slapping you across the face. Sooner, too, maybe.

When you especially wished for a backbone, you were in your first year of high school, standing before your anxious friend after offering your help. You know her pretty well, having gone to the same middle school; your brain saw no reason to process possible consequences. (Not like you could ever predict your current outcome, anyway.) If anything, the muscle was too busy thinking about how the blonde’s spine would break eventually. No ill feelings behind the idea, but it doesn’t stop your brows from furrowing in guilt.

You worried for Yachi, that’s all. And with her bent over at a 90° angle before you, a position you both seem familiar with, you couldn’t help but sigh.

“Hey,” you began softly. The sheepish blonde didn’t budge, and it wasn’t until you said her name a bit louder did she tilt her head to peer up at you. “It’s no problem, okay? I’d be happy to help. Besides,” you quipped with a smile for good measure, and your classmate rose from her deep bow, though kept her position so you remained above her, “this could look good on a resumé, no?”

By now, Yachi’s posture returned to normal as she offered a nervous chuckle. “I guess you’re right. It’s just that those two can be a handful sometimes, especially with each other. I don’t want to put any stress on you.”

Your arms crossed as you arched a brow, considering the new volleyball manager’s words. “Then, how about I take care of one of them and you keep the other? It’ll be easier to help if you focus on one person’s struggles, and that way they won’t bicker all the time.” A small smile graced her lips as she pondered your idea, and you leaned forward curiously. “You make them sound like an old married couple. There’s no way they’re that bad, are they?”

Yachi’s eyes widened ever so slightly before she frantically shook her hands in front of her.

“No, no, no!” she insisted, voice raising a bit more than probably intended. A few classmates paused their conversations to glance at you two; you waved them off apologetically. “I don’t mean to make them sound terrible or anything! It’s just that they care so much about their club that,” she paused, searching for the right words, “they can’t seem to focus on anything else.”

You hummed, head tilting in thought. A valid concern, but it was a drawback most teens had with studying. Not that you needed to remind Yachi: with keeping up with a team where she somewhat understands the sport, tutoring her teammates and keeping up with her schoolwork, stating the obvious may not put her at ease.

Instead, you grinned reassuringly, and light pink dusted across the blonde’s cheeks. “Nothing I can’t handle. I got this.”

It didn’t take long to find your tutee upon entering Class 1-3. Based on Yachi’s description, you were sure you’d seen him a few times in the hallway, a scowl seemingly stuck on his face. That expression remained as he stared at whatever was in his notebook. And with other students in the room tiptoeing as they passed his desk, you were even more sure that was who you were looking for.

“Kageyama.” Despite your voice’s volume as you attempted to gain his attention, your tone carried its usual gentleness. It did the trick, his frown softening as his brows lowered to a neutral expression. Not as intimidating as his previous look, but you understood where Yachi’s hesitance came from as she tried to describe him.

“You’re Yachi’s friend?” It sounded more like a statement than a question, but you nodded. He hummed. “What’s your name again?”

You are–were–kind, not a saint. The question irked you, having put effort into knowing who he is and how he worked to help him raise his grades. He can’t bother to remember your name? Surely, Yachi gave it to him.

There’s no need to get mad, you remembered. Reminded. Wired. It was just introductions; give him a chance. Give him as many as he’ll need to open up in his own way. Yachi said he wasn’t the best at communication. He’s trying. You were both trying.

You gave him your name with a smile.

The first lesson had more to do with diving deeper into his brain than helping him study. With only a summarized description to go by, you needed more information.

Kageyama understood onomatopoeias better than imagery. Tone flew over his head while clear instructions prepared him for the journey ahead. Studying English and Japanese had their wins and losses. (Mostly the latter, though some battles must be lost to win the war.)

The next couple of sessions weren’t any different. You wondered if the environment distracted the setter, and while it didn’t appear that way, you suggested meeting up at the library. A minor improvement, though his brain’s wiring still wasn’t completely translated to you.

Whenever you and Yachi sat together for lunch to update each other on the tutoring, you tossed in some enthusiasm in your tone as you promised her you were getting there. Following up was a back-and-forth of the blonde insisting that you could back out of the deal whenever and you assuring her that everything was going smoothly. (Can’t say “fine.” No one believes in fine anymore.)

Now, you observed the twitch of Kageyama’s eye as he glared at the graphs, angles and equations in his notebook. You didn’t blame him: not when you were slowly running out of methods to help him.

As time passed, so did his patience. The ravenette slammed his notebook onto his desk with a groan, hands flying to slap his face, making you jump in your seat across from him. Other students flinched as they turned to face the commotion, whispering to one another before trying to look away.

“This is a waste of my time,” Kageyama muttered.

That makes two of us, a fleeting thought grumbled. You swatted it away, ignoring the tightening of your chest.

His glare trailed toward the window to his left, muttering about how he could be improving his technique—or rather, something more about a certain pipsqueak needing to work on his spikes.

You hummed. “Tell me about volleyball.”

His gaze snapped to you, brows still furrowed, though curiosity replaced the aggression in his eyes. “What about it?”

“Whatever you want,” you shrugged, placing your pencil on the desk. “I only really know the basics of the sport, but there’s no use stressing yourself out over something you’re stuck on. Consider this a little break.”

A slight pout formed on his lips, either from hesitation or pondering where to begin.

Kageyama lived and breathed volleyball. Not his words verbatim, but his rambling told you as such. He knew his strengths and his weaknesses (even if he’d rather not discuss them), and his irritation toward his teammate sounded like complaints on the surface. Still, it came from high expectations and confidence in the ginger’s potential, and it wasn’t until he rambled on about A passes and C passes did a light flick in your brain.

“There it is!” you exclaimed, a grin tugging the corners of your lips. You slid the notebook closer to the setter. “Try what you were just explaining to me and add it into these questions.”

It took him a few seconds to process the order, his head tilting to the side as that pout returned. A cute look on him, but that wasn’t relevant then, nor now.

“What, my passes?” Kageyama blinked, and it seemed to click.

You nodded. “You’re so precise with your sets. Just apply all the knowledge to these situations. It may not be exactly the same thing, but it’s possible.”

Kageyama looked at you for a bit before returning his attention to his notebook, taking his time looking over the written words before skating his pencil across the paper. You figured Yachi was exaggerating when she told you about his passion for the sport, but that assumption went out the window soon enough. But weaknesses can be strengths if you view them from a different angle, and soon the setter’s distraction became his motivation.

Not all the questions he answered were correct, but the improvement was impossible to miss. You beamed, praising him for finding his way. Despite his resting face, Kageyama’s eyes shined from the encouragement, his posture straightening ever so slightly. The baby pink dusting his cheeks didn’t go unnoticed by you, either, and you had to refrain from cooing. Holding back a chuckle as he stammered an invitation to his team’s next practice match wasn’t possible, and you agreed should he continue to work hard.

The study session ended early, with you wishing the ravenette good luck at practice and his upcoming quiz. You slouched while walking in the opposite direction, pride washing over you like a warm shower. An accomplishment, a job well done. Completed.

You remembered thinking how you could only go uphill from there, academically speaking. What else was there? Aside from volleyball, there wouldn’t be anything else to worry about, and you weren’t even responsible for that department. All you could do was observe the sport and those who play it, learning bit by bit as you cheered for your school’s volleyball club.

You didn’t know the opposing team or their capabilities, though you could only assume they were a challenge. Yachi sat beside you, scribbling notes and occasionally explaining whatever she learned herself.

“I heard you found a way to help Kageyama,” she said between sets. “How’d that go?”

As if he heard you, the setter trailed his gaze toward you two, giving you a curt nod before drinking from his water bottle. You returned a small smile before giving your attention to your blonde friend.

“Figured things out a few sessions in,” you responded as the remnants of pride from that day of discovery still swirling in your chest. “He should get the hang of it soon enough. I’m sure getting to stay in this club is more than enough motivation for him.”

Yachi perked up at the news. “That’s great! Thanks again for helping out. I owe you bigtime.”

“Don’t say that.” You shook your head with a giggle. “How’s your tutoring process coming along?”

Movement teased the corner of your eye, but the shriek that echoed throughout the gym was impossible to ignore. Your attention went to the source, and the new manager almost dropped her notebook at the sound.

Kageyama held a death grip on a ginger teammate–Hinata’s–hair, roughly tugging the locks as he glared at the shorter teen. The latter continued to beg, though aside from who you could only assume to be the team captain, no one paid them any mind. As the senior student handled the situation, the setter caught your gaze. His glare faltered, but his frown didn’t disappear as he seemingly analyzed your expression. He walked away with a huff, and soon enough, the second set began.

It was normal, apparently. You got to interact with a few of the other teammates, one of which–Tanaka, if you remembered correctly–barked out a laugh as he assured that Kageyama and Hinata fought like an old married couple all the time. You weren’t sure what kind of elders he’s been around, but so long as the explanation put you at ease, you’d take it.

You eventually got used to the random quarrels as well. A deal was made between the setter and you that you’d see his games should he continue to work hard academically. Or rather, he’d let you know when his upcoming practice matches would be like you’d already planned on showing up. Not that it bothered you; it was probably his way of connecting with you outside of tutoring, and with your first impressions of him, you assumed making friends wasn’t his forte.

The only downside is that you also had your own club to go to. The boys’ volleyball team didn’t have practice matches too often, so you had yet to miss any, at most showing up a bit late as you’d wrap up your club’s meeting for the day. You’d catch Kageyama with his usual frown until he found you’d shown up, and his expression would soften as he straightened his posture. Having already been in the game, he couldn’t say anything about your tardiness, so you’d sneak to the balcony and observe from above, cheering on a little harder to make up for it. After the game, he’d approach you with a pout, though he’d only discuss the match with you.

It was late fall when you first missed a match. Kageyama informed you a few days prior, as you helped him with Modern Japanese, that a practice game would partake. You thought nothing of it until that day arrived, and you had yet to dismount your seat in your own clubroom. The calligraphy club was pretty straightforward, though that day, there was a meeting, one you barely recalled as your eyes continuously glanced at the clock. Along with cleaning up the classroom, you lost more time than expected, and rushing to the gymnasium did little to fix the issue.

The game was in its second set by the time you arrived. The first thing you noticed upon entering the gym was the starting setter’s head whipping toward your direction. His alertness subsided, but his gaze stayed on you for a few seconds too many before he served the ball. You assumed things would go as usual, with you sneaking to your designated spot and watching the match until it was over.

It wasn’t until the opponents requested a time-out did you discover how wrong you were. While the other boys went to fetch water and towels, Kageyama stomped over to you, his sweat-slicked bangs hovering over his eyes in a way that made his glare all the more intimidating.

“Where were you?” His voice was of normal volume, but his tone matched his furious expression perfectly. Your body froze.

“I had this thing,” you stammered. “My club meeting took longer than I thought, and—”

“I was waiting for you,” he seethed, stepping closer. “I even asked Coach to wait a bit so you could make it. I shouldn’t even have to make excuses for tardiness. You couldn’t have told your club that you had places to be?”

Your mouth went dry as he got louder, and by now, most of his teammates were watching the commotion. You’ve seen him frustrated, sure, angry on bad days, too. At least he’d take it out on his homework.

Still, your habit of patience was second nature, even when it wasn’t called for. “I’m sorry—”

“Kageyama.” Daichi was behind the ravenette with a hand on his shoulder before you could further explain yourself. His tone was stern, sharp even, but nowhere near as intimidating as what you received. A warning. “Go take a breather, why don’t you?”

The setter’s gaze stayed on you a little longer than necessary. He scoffed before walking away, his back facing you as he sipped from his water bottle. You politely dismissed the captain’s apology on his junior’s behalf, assuring him you were all right.

“His Majesty’s probably just upset his girlfriend couldn’t watch him show off,” you heard Tsukishima mutter to Yamaguchi. You weren’t sure if he intended for you to catch his comment, but he wasn’t exactly out of earshot, only a couple of feet away. Regardless, you didn’t bother responding. It didn’t take long for everyone else to leave the little incident in the past, and the tall blonde’s snarky words lingered in your brain for the remainder of the match.

No one else showed up to watch these games. You were there for the tournaments, too; aside from Tanaka’s older sister and a few of the coach’s old friends, the boys’ volleyball club didn’t have much moral support. Much less Kageyama, from what you could tell. You’ve heard about his behaviour back in middle school from Hinata and Tsukishima, the latter with taunts, and the new fragments of information added pieces to the puzzle.

Kageyama was trying. He didn’t always succeed, but it didn’t stop him from attempting to steer away from the tyrannical path he was heading. You’ve seen him reach for Tanaka’s high-fives, albeit with a confused expression, but it didn’t falter his senior’s enthusiasm. His compliments (if you could even call them that) came out as awkward and forced when he gave them to Hinata after the ginger won a point, and he wasn’t afraid to ask Azumane if he needed to adjust his sets to suit the Ace.

Maybe you were supposed to be his tutor and nothing more. Maybe it would’ve been better that way. But with very little assistance and even lesser options, Kageyama might have considered your listening to his ramblings as a sign of friendship. You supported him in staying on the team, and now you’re watching him flourish as a result. That’s what friends do—it was only fair for him to ask you to stay as such. You’d ask yourself why not indulge, though you were probably in too deep to call it that anymore.

The following morning, you find Kageyama waiting by the school entrance, two milk cartons in each hand and a strained apology on the tip of his tongue. You smiled, the two of you sipping on your refreshments as you waited for the first bell to ring.

Your calligraphy club disbanded at the beginning of your second year. You weren’t all that surprised at the time: there were barely enough students for it to exist in the first place. Why certain members decided to leave was beyond you, but you saw no point in pushing them to stay if they didn’t want to. Still, you missed your club: you were left to your own devices, the black ink dancing across paper lulling you to a place of comfort.

It was Yachi who suggested you joined the boys’ volleyball club as another manager. She figured you learned some things from Kageyama here and there while tutoring him, and she has no problem helping you catch up.

“Besides,” the blonde smiled, handing you the sign-up sheet, “it’s pretty lonely now that Shimizu graduated. It’d be nice to have a friend around.” You take the paper from her, staring at it somewhat skeptically. You didn’t voice your hesitance, and after a few seconds of silence, your friend added, “I’m sure the others will be happy to have you around, too.”

With how often you dropped by to watch the team practice and compete, the club members have grown to know you. It didn’t take too long for you to warm up to them, too, usually sitting with Ennoshita, Kinoshita and Narita and having them explain the gameplay whenever you were lost. Otherwise, it was mainly Kageyama who kept you to himself either because you had time to assist him in his studies or simply because he wanted your attention.

You later found out it was his idea to have you join the team as another manager, and Yachi agreed immediately. Who would complain about that? Another sweet and pretty girl to help and cheer them on was a dream come true for most. You were the only one that had yet to vocalize content, and you handed in the application sheet soon after receiving it.

Even with the progress, you still tutored Kageyama. Seeing him more often after classes only gave you more opportunity to support him, especially when Coach Ukai would remind certain members to keep their grades up.

Not that any of this bothered the setter. He had no problem having you continue helping him with his schoolwork. He’d listen to your instructions, try out new learning techniques whenever he struggled on a particular unit and remained patient (by his standards, anyway) with you when things didn’t work out.

You had no issue continuing your support. You knew Kageyama was trying his best, even when his brain could only focus on volleyball, and you figured you could still learn more about how he interacted with others as he tried to come out of his shell.

His one-track mind came to a disadvantage at times. When Hinata suggested studying as a group, Kageyama quickly shut the idea down. He’d sometimes go on tangents about strategies and new techniques for the sport while you tried to help him. Tanaka and Nishinoya would quip that the setter had a crush on you and didn’t know how to express it, though you knew better than to take those two seriously. Kageyama told you that becoming a manager would be more suitable for your future than your previous club. He’s grown used to your routine of getting all your attention for tutoring, and having others there would throw him off his game. As for his rants, he’s merely passionate about the sport—you don’t need a reminder.

So, you became a manager for the boys’ volleyball club, continued your one-on-one tutoring sessions and instructed him to only speak of team strategies in English as practice. And you do so until you graduate.

It’s where the connection between you and Kageyama seemingly disappeared, set ablaze before dwindling into disintegration. He didn’t even give you the time to say goodbye to your friends outside the club before asking them if he could steal you away. (It was more of a declaration—the questioning tone was a mere formality.)

“Ready to take your volleyball career to the next level?” You didn’t know what else to say: not after the abrupt isolation. He’s brought you one of the many hidden corners the school had to offer, away from all the other graduates and their loved ones. Sakura petals fluttered through their descent, softening an otherwise overwhelming atmosphere full of completed chapters and new beginnings. You read manga: it felt like prince charming would swoop in with a confession, second gakuran button in hand. Having blueberry eyes boring into your awaiting frame in such an environment should make the butterflies in your stomach perform their very own acrobatics number, the anticipation eating you from the inside out. And it did, the churning in your belly boiling your face as you tried to meet his gaze. Kageyama’s resting face was always a disadvantage regarding his approachability, but with three years of getting to know him under your belt, you still felt a ghost’s kisses up your spine.

“Obviously,” he answered. You would have chuckled at the comment in your first year of high school. But even the smile you’ve managed to muster no longer seemed convincing. Part of you wondered if you could find your friends once more to keep in touch before you all left. “I should be asking you that, though.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, yet you kept the corners of your lips upwards. “I don’t know if being a manager for a volleyball team counts as a volleyball career.”

Kageyama didn’t laugh at your quip. You didn’t expect him to, but his response caught you off-guard.

“When will you be joining me?”

Your tiring performance of halo and white wings evaporated at his question, brows further creasing as your smile dropped. A clear indication of confusion, though a hint of offence found its way into the mix.

“What are you talking about?” Your body instinctively inched closer to your corner. The setter noticed.

“One of the biggest reasons I’ve managed to get as far as I am with volleyball is because of you,” he stated. “From helping me keep my grades up to becoming manager. I can grow to adjust to any team I become a part of, but I need someone who gets me to be by my side if I want to continue to prosper in my career.”

The butterflies once performing in your belly dropped dead before they had the chance to bow. The love confession you dismissively thought of boomed with laughter as it slapped you across the back. Your lungs were empty as your brain progressed his words, your face slowly morphing from one expression to another.

Did you do this?

“Kageyama,” you began, barely knowing where to go without a map, “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but that’s not the path I’m taking.” His resting face grew sour. You forced yourself to continue. “I’m flattered, but really, you did most of the work. I just gave you a little push.” Kind words didn’t weaken the blow—his staredown didn’t falter. “I have a life outside of the sport. I’m no prodigy. I don’t work anywhere near as hard as you do. I don’t feel the same about volleyball the way you do—”

“Bullshit.”

The snap from harsh lips forced yours shut. You shrank back once more, a scolded child fearing further punishment.

You dared to glance at him. Kegayama was seething, leaning forward with clenched fists and jaw. You didn’t want to peer out to the crowd; had anyone heard him? They either didn’t or were too afraid to jump in. You knew you would be, too.

“You think some sweet talk is going to make any of this okay?” His voice grew in volume, and you flinched. “You learned past the basics, you understand strategy better than the average player. You’re throwing it all out the window for what? That damn club you were in before had nothing to offer. I can vouch for you if you just follow me.”

There he was: King of the Court. You always thought Tsukishima would exaggerate to gain a reaction, but that title came to be for a reason. You just never thought you’d fall victim to it.

“Look, I’m sorry if I led you on,” even in a situation like this, your feelings seemed to fall to a second priority, “but I’m telling you now that I don’t love the sport as much as you think I do. It’s not in my future.”

“I showed you opportunity and you throw it back in my face,” he sneered, getting closer.

“I joined because of Yachi and my old club disbanding,” you defended, voice quivering. “I don’t understand why you’re yelling at me.”

A petal landed on your cheek, and you went to brush it away until you discovered the soft touch was a stray tear. It seemed enough to silence him, if only momentarily, though his glare remained just as deadly.

He wanted to say something; you knew he did. More words of anger, most likely, but he tightened his jaw instead, opting to walk away after giving you a final look of disdain.

You didn’t hear the hopeful and cheerful banter between graduates, nor did you catch Yachi calling your name until she laid a hand on your shoulder, snapping you out of your daze. Kageyama lingered in your head for the remainder of that day; no harsh words in particular—mainly the darkening of his blue eyes as his tone became aggressive. Part of you thought you also heard a twinge of betrayal, but after such a whiplash of a confrontation, you weren’t sure you could recall that moment in your state.

Wherever he was during the remainder of graduation, you didn’t see him.

To be more precise, you didn’t see him afterwards, either. With moving to another prefecture for school and time passing by, you eventually put that memory behind you. That isn’t to say it didn’t make your body temperature drop; on the rare occasions Kageyama would be brought up, the daggers his eyes threw your way would flash in your mind. Of course, you saw no reason to voice the issue—you only ever heard about him from Yachi whenever you’d catch up, which isn’t as often as you’d like. From what you know, he’s out of the country, furthering his career like you assumed he would. And while the setter was right about how being manager brought more skills and opportunities, your studies had nothing to do with volleyball.

Neither does your career.

You never thought you’d set foot in Italy, much less work there after university. Your parents told you that your kindness paid off, much to your irritation. (Was school not already enough of a hassle? And the extracurriculars? The people?)

Even though the conversation was over the phone, you found yourself putting on a smile as you told them about taking the opportunity, your tone hopeful as if you still needed their permission.

It took you who knows how long to realize you didn’t. And as soon as it hit you, you packed your bags and flew halfway across the world with barely the basics of the Italian language in your brain and newfound perseverance in your heart.

Whatever bits and pieces made you a doormat evaporated into the air as that airplane took off to your new home, and you planned on making what should be the next chapter of your life a completely different book.

Easier said than done, of course.

The last person you’d expect to see at this pub meets your gaze, and your eyes widen from instant recognition.

Kageyama hasn’t changed all that much. His resting face is hard to miss, the light crease in his brows making him appear far angrier than he is. And with his increase in height and muscle, his intimidation goes up, too. His hair is also somewhat shorter, though that’s all regarding his changes.

You continue to gawk at him, though his expression remains calm like you two were back in high school and you showed up to one of his games. You should be there.

He’s wearing his jersey, you realize, and grouped up with other men in the same attire. You don’t recognize the team; you haven’t been keeping track of the setter’s career.

One of his teammates follows his stare, and Kageyama mumbles something before approaching you. You don’t hear what the other man says in return, your attention stuck on your old high school friend. (Can you still call him that? Could you ever have called him that?)

He says your name; your feet plant themselves on the ground. “It’s been a while.”

You blink away the myriad of emotions before nodding. “Still playing volleyball.”

It wasn’t a question, but it doesn’t make you feel any less stupid for bringing it up. Kageyama tilts his head back a bit, motioning to his team with a hum. “Yeah.”

“Can’t say I’m all that surprised,” you try to quip, your fingers toying with the hem of your shirt. Even if the ravenette’s height wasn’t a prominent factor, he’d still tower over you with how his eyes bore into your frame.“Last I heard, you joined Schweiden Adlers.”

His frown deepens. “I’m part of Ali Roma now.”

You bite your lip, your face growing warm. Kageyama appears offended, what with how he slightly tilts his head back for his eyes to look down on you. His brows furrow more, and you’re surprised you still remember his quirks even after all these years.

“An Italian team? Congratulations!” You don’t mention living in the same country, working on the same soil where he now lives and breathes his beloved sport. In fact, you don’t say anything for a little too long, and your eyes glance behind him. “Well, I wouldn’t want to keep you from your team. It was nice seeing—”

“Don’t worry about them,” he says, moving towards you. “I plan on catching up with you. They’ll understand.”

He’s making you approach a corner booth, and neither your feet nor your voice can protest. Even once you’ve sat down, all you do is shift in your seat, seemingly never comfortable. And whatever you originally planned on ordering is replaced with a glass of water. If Kageyama noticed, he doesn’t comment. He sips his beer occasionally; you’re halfway with your drink in a minute.

“So,” you hum, “you like your new team?”

The setter looks at you for a few seconds before responding. “Yeah. Full of great players.”

He sounds more like he’s being interviewed than catching up with someone from high school. You try not to deadpan at his short answer. Your habit comes back crawling, keeping up performances and your back straight, head forward and heart thumping.

Your glass is almost empty when Kageyama speaks once more. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in Italy?”

He didn’t sound offended or hurt. The question came out as curious and casual like you two were going on about your day. But you know that’s not what’s happening, and his eerie calmness makes you nearly choke on your drink.

“We kinda lost touch,” you answer steadily, briefly. “It was a pretty quick decision, too. Only a handful of people knew.”

Not a complete lie, but you consider it necessary for now.

“Had to find out from Yachi that you were here last time I played in Japan,” the setter grunts, eyes glued to his drink. Your hold on your glass tightens at his words as your head snaps up to face him, a mix of confusion and a twinge of fear making your expression. You don’t get to ask him anything, not that you’re sure you can, and he continues. “Kind of a hassle not being able to reconnect with you whenever I had time back home. Switching teams was a good call, especially with my previous contract coming to an end. And it’s not like I wouldn’t have made it into Ali Roma anyway. I guess you leaving was a blessing in disguise.”

Whatever he says afterwards, if anything, drowns out as you stare past his shoulder, and your stomach drops. The strength you gained found its cowardice as the old you that disappeared into the clouds crashes down on you like a rainstorm, soaking you to the bone and making you shiver.

You rise from your seat a little too abruptly for your liking. “I need to use the bathroom.”

Also not a complete lie, but who’s keeping track? Not a drop of alcohol touched your tongue, yet you stumble down the hall towards the sign with a female stick figure in a dress and clumsily push the door below it open. You’re unsure if you should hunch over the toilet or splash water on your face, but you aren’t rewarded with a choice, nor the time, to make it.

A knock rinses the blood out of your ears, and you can hear the cheerful and far-from-sober banter back in the bar.

“Occupied,” you stammer hurriedly, carrying yourself to the sink. The creak of the door opening has you inhaling sharply, and who you see in the reflection keeps the air in your lungs.

Kageyama stands a couple of meters from you, his brows lightly furrowed. “Why do you keep doing that?”

You don’t answer him. The ravenette takes a step forward. You flinch.

“I was right, you know,” he begins, strangely calm. “That old club of yours–the calligraphy one–it was a waste of time.” His movements are slow as he approaches you. “It’s a good thing everyone left. Even if your new job has nothing to do with volleyball, your manager position definitely brought you to where you are now.” As vague as he may be, you can’t help but move back every time he gets closer, your fist tightening near your chest. “It would’ve been better if you’d just joined me, though.”

Your back hits the wall, and you don’t register what happens afterwards as your jumbled thoughts decipher possibility after possibility over the athlete’s implications. You don’t realize he’s kissing you or grabbing hold of your face to make you return the forced affection. You’re elsewhere as he lifts your top over your breasts and your skirt past your hips. Your mind is groggy as he gropes you through your bra, soon sliding past the material to tweak your nipples.

It isn’t until his hand slides down your body and into your panties do you awake to a nightmare.

Your front presses up against the tile wall; you don’t recall when he turned you around, the dead end’s coolness painting goosebumps all over your body and juxtaposing the warm fresh tears cascading down your squished cheek. Kageyama’s fingers languidly glide across your lower lips before he clicks his tongue. You can hear the irritation; you always could.

Not as wet as he’d like you to be. But the setter only has so much patience. He’s human, after all. He’s human.

The thought barely registers when you hear a faint zipping sound behind you, and suddenly his hard-on presses into the small of your back. Your breathing picks up as he spreads your legs with little effort, further pushing you into the wall before doing the same with your panties, revealing your entrance to him.

He doesn’t grace you with sweet nothings and mercy: just a blob of spit in his hand to pump his cock followed by heavy panting. And when he finally enters, the silence deafens you as he chokes on a gasp.

That’s the moment that felt never-ending; he went in and never stopped, it seems, dragging himself into your insides until he was everywhere. He is everywhere. He is inside and behind and looming and crushing.

The nicest he was to you was when he waited to let you adjust, and you hate yourself for being the sweet little high school girl who tried to see the best in people. He doesn’t deserve it. You don’t deserve this.

Kageyama makes his first few strokes slow, but they’re still deep enough to have you gritting your teeth. It isn’t long until he gasps your name and picks up speed.

“All this way,” he rasps in your ear, almost masking the slapping noises his hips would make when colliding with your ass. “All this way to another part of the world, joining a new team, starting over and getting better, all to see you again.” You don’t hear him when he speaks, nor as he grunts extra loudly as you tighten around him. “I should’ve done this sooner.”

A large hand slides back into your bra, squeezing your breast, calloused fingers tugging at the hardened bud, while the other one further shoves your panties aside to hastily rub your clit. The dry friction does little to soothe you, and with his lack of patience, the nub receives no pattern except whatever it's offered. Still, the added stimulation makes you tighten and the ravenette more restless. Even in your position, he finds a way to slam his lips against yours again. His tongue makes its way into your cavern as his thrusts get sloppier. You can’t breathe.

Not when he pulls away from the kiss.

Not when his hips sputter as hot ropes paint your insides white.

And certainly not when your high follows soon after.

It wasn’t strong, and it didn’t last long, but the shame that creeps into your stomach lasts an eternity.

Your heavy breathing syncs with his as everything finally settles into your slowly-sobering mind. Kageyama’s still inside you, his hot breath fanning the back of your neck as his hands find your wrists to grab hold of.

You’re in high school all over again. His actions have evolved to more dangerous heights, but you’re back in that gymnasium watching him practice. Even when he finally pulls out, even when he pulls you close, even when he snuggles into the junction of your shoulder.

Kageyama hasn’t changed one bit.

@creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify

#fanfiction #fanfic #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#hq #dark content #yandere haikyuu #yandere kageyama #kageyama tobio #kageyama smut #kageyama x reader #karasuno #smut #haikyuu smut

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bitchlessdino · 2 years

Note

I have a request. You have to really imagine it. But like imagine DILF!seungcheol, with a daddy kink, being like your boss because you babysit his kid. And he finds out you’re attracted to him so he teases you about it. Long story short you end up on his thigh, him helping you chase your high. Then after that he makes you ride him, i don’t know why but I have this image of him throwing his head back and like that would be so hot. I don’t know this though came to me in class.-🎧

Pairing: F!reader x Seungcheol

Genre: suggestive unless yall count thigh riding as smut

Word count: 2.7k

Tags: dilf!seungcheol, loving father cheol, assertive cheol, mention of kids, thigh riding

author note: daddy. that is all. but also, A TATTOO CHEOL??? (mingyu voice: show me!)

Seungcheol was the eye candy of every PTA meeting, especially given that he is a single dad. That was one of the many things you’ve noticed since volunteering to take his place in volunteering in place of him at school events. Everyone practically gave you stink eyes seeing you instead of him, wondering why he bothered hiring a nobody when he could easily wife up one of the other single parents (yes those reasonings had no correlation, yet it somehow makes sense.)

You couldn’t blame them. Your boss is that devastatingly handsome. He turned heads every corner, smiling that gorgeous gummy smile he’s known for, even making you weak at the knees. You had to see him every day, it was natural you developed a little crush on him too, considering he checked all the boxes in your “Daddy issues must haves,” but that’s another story for another day:

He’s just so good with his daughter. He made every opportunity to prove that. He would do anything and everything for his daughter. You noticed that right away when he hired you to be her babysitter and that impression stayed with you even when you upgraded to au pair, basically breathing the same as him 24/7. That didn't make your feelings any easier to manage.

It was his fault now that you think about it. He had to grow super comfortable with you enough to walk around shirtless or come up from the pool for a late dip after the sweetie went asleep, going as far as inviting you to join him. You’d decline every time, thanking the night air for cooling your flushed cheeks, and quickly retreat to the guest room you currently reside in.

If it wasn’t to that extreme, it’s the subtle way you’re making dinner together, living out your delusional domestic dreams. His chest would briefly meet your back, grabbing something in front of you, which you could’ve easily retrieved for him. His gaze lingers on you a little longer than you should’ve when either one of you asks a question.

The tension was deafening.

“It’s really screwed up of him for being that attractive,” You spoke to the other line.

Nami, your friend, was used to your rambling at this point and rolled her eyes at your humble bragging about exactly how hot Seungcheol was, having personally only met him a handful of times. “Oh no, your super sexy boss is not only hot but a perfect father figure for his daughter, making him the most perfect living man on Earth. How awful.”

“It is fucking awful, Nami!” you cross your leg over the other sneaking glance in the gaps of your bedroom door, “He is driving me off a cliff. I don’t know how much I can handle being around him so often. It was fine every two days a week, and now it’s every day. What am I supposed to do with all these feelings?”

“Seduce him.”

“Nami, I’m being serious.”

“So am I, get sexy daddy boss to be your daddy.”

You couldn't see her but you can just visualize the wiggle of her brows.

“Yeah, I’m not doing that. And if I was going to, you know how bad that would go?”

You stand up from the bed to act out the scene in your head, exaggerating your strut toward an imaginary masculine figure, and drawing out the most nasal voice you could muster, “Seungcheol. I am so deeply and irrevocably attracted to you. Please give me one night to prove to myself how I can be devotedly yours.”

You lose yourself in your own laugh as it sounds off in the room, but it was not loud enough for you to ignore the deeper voice in the background. “Just one night?”

You freeze when you realize who it is. Nami could only get an “ooo” in edge-wise until you hung up the phone and hide the phone behind your back. “S-Seungcheol.”

A corner of his lips lifts to his ear before slowly approaching you with his hands in his pockets. He had his sleeves rolled up and the top three buttons of his shirt unbuttoned, revealing a sliver of proof of how he spent his mornings at 5 am. He softly snickers, “I’d love to hear about what you can do to prove it to me.”

“Sir, I-I was simply–um, talking about your admirers I’ve noticed. I’m sure you’re not blind to these kinds of people, how forward they are, or how brass…” You chuckle nervously to yourself.

“Do you happen to be one of these admirers?”

He gets closer to you, backing onto the cushion of your bed, towering over you curiously. You could feel your heart racing a million miles a minute, eyes rapidly blinking and you tried grasping any grip of reality. “I-I’m sorry,I—”

“How cute. I figured you were acting peculiar around me but the reason for it is much more interesting than I realized.”

Either of his arms creates a barrier around you, leaving you in his direct line of vision with barely enough air to breathe. His wide-eyed gaze is tense, piercing back at you as you stare back in fear and admittedly lust.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Miss Y/n.”

His deep gaze lowers to the shape of your lips, watching them quiver at the sight of him, which fueled the yearning that settled in the pit of his stomach. He sees your eyes dilated, yet shaken, seeing your body dip behind you into the sheets he paid for, you softly panting in the room he owned, staring back into his eyes like a deer caught in headlights. His breath tickles your skin and you could feel him draw him closer.

“I don’t know what I’d do if you confirm my suspicions.”

The tension severs when he hears the voice of his little girl calling for him at the end of the hall, dropping his head in disappointment with a soft whine when the moment passes.

He turns his head and responds to her. “I’ll be right there, sweetie. You wait right there.”

He averts back to you, the sly smile reappearing on his face. “When you join us for dinner today, you’ll sit opposite of me so I can keep an eye on you. When we tuck my little dove into bed, why don’t we have a movie night? Just you and me? Is that okay with you, Miss Y/n?”

You feel as if you held your breath for a long period of time, slowly nodding back at him.

“I prefer verbal consent, Miss Y/n. Would you please accompany me on a company movie night, just the two of us?”

A hasty gulp ran down your throat, “I would like that, Sir.”

“Good.”

The man lets you be, retreating to his daughter who kept calling out to him. His slow steps taunt, echoing in your ears as you fall back against the mattress. You take a silk-lined pillow to the face, muffling your screams, hoping to suffocate under the cushion like that moment suffocating you just then. A loud exhale escapes you as you pulled it away, and you find anxiously wait for dinner time.

Before that incident, Seungcheol insisted on making dinner and having kept that promise you enter the kitchen reluctantly with his back towards you. You keep yourself at a distance, watching the frame of his body constantly shifting as he diced green onions, and you lean against the wall next to him, taking quiet breaths and struggling to do so.

It wasn’t a long show when the most darling girl calls you by name and joins your side. Your eyes grow twice their size and picked her up in your arms, side-eyeing Seungcheol who perked up at the sight of you two together. He washes his hand thoroughly before following after, cooing at his daughter and stealing her away.

Her giggles were astonishingly infectious as he bounced her in his arms, similarly to her father’s laugh in just a higher pitched tone. She was just as sweet as candy, bringing light to every room she enters. You love taking care of her and dare you to say you love her. What wasn’t there to love about someone as precious as she is?

“Alright, now, my little dove.” he sets him on the tile floor and bends his knees to her level. “Y/n and I will finish up here and bring food right out. It’s your favorite, little darling. Spaghetti.”

She bounces in her step, gleefully shouting ‘pasget, pasget’ before running into the dining area, leaving you and Seungcheol alone once again. His eyes shoot right in your direction as he places one foot over the other towards you. Your feet trace back, stumbling until hitting the smooth metal surface behind you, unintentionally cornering yourself. It’s much like the position you were in only some time ago, feeling the weight of his presence, drinking in his full attention.

When you shut your eyes, anticipating the impact, instead you hear the suction of the fridge release. Your eyelids slowly parts when you realized he just went to grab something in the fridge which you decided to fall flat against. Seungcheol chuckles at your embarrassed reaction, shutting the door to draw his lips dear to your ear. “Can’t seem to wait for me, hmm? Be a little patient, dinner shouldn’t be too long.”

You could hardly focus on dinner after the events that have occurred, glancing up at your employer occasionally as he eats his meal, who cooing every few bites at his daughter beside you. You were lucky to not have had her across from you, fearing your anxiety was obvious on the surface, unable to meet his eyes the entire night. His gaze would occasionally drift off to you, taking note of the unsteadiness of your grasp,

When the darling did finish her meal, she was all ready to wash up, tugging at your shirt to have you follow. You quickly exchange looks with Seungcheol, who nodded and let you know that he’d be cleaning up after dinner. You get to her night routine fairly quickly: bathing her, brushing her teeth, and reading her the story she wanted luckily without a hitch.

You softly sigh as her eyes drift off to sleep, seeing that perhaps dinner was a bit indulging enough to give her the sleep bug. She murmurs words of ‘good day’ and ‘good pasqet.’ You pat her head, tucking her in when you hear from the door to her bedroom creak, her father being the culprit.

He presses a single finger to his lips before delicately approaching and having a hand resting on your shoulder, having you hyper-aware of that fact. He doesn't notice as his eyes are tending to his daughter, before pressing a kiss on her forehead. “Night, dove.”

The hand from your shoulder soon falls to the surface of your palm, lacing his fingers through. His head turns to you expectedly, watching that inconsistent breath leave you before whispering with a smile, “Shall we?”

You steadily follow him to the common area where a movie is already playing, seeing the familiar lion’s head roar at the screen above the fireplace. When you ask him what movie he picked out, he responds by saying it didn’t matter, “It’d only be background noise anyway.”

He ushers you on the couch, letting go of your hand. His whole body faces you, locked in your dazed expression, your head thinking, ‘what the hell are you about to do with your boss right now alone?’

“Mind explaining to me what that conversation was about this afternoon?”

You caught the words in your throat, an explanation you planned in your mind all day, replaying the script over and over until you were here with nothing. You blank out in his eyes, wonder what he expected, no, what he wanted you to say. He does nothing in front of you, simply balancing his chin on his hands, and propping at the elbows on his knees. His presence mere inches away from you was enough to sputter incoherent nonsense. Nothing comprehensive to the older man’s ears.

“What was that?”

“I’m…sorry.”

“Sorry about what?” he grins.

His body shifts, his expression relaxed and confident, and he fixates on your breathing. “You can tell me anything, you know. I know when to relax.”

“I…was careless and fully aware of what you witnessed, but I won’t take action, sir. I wouldn’t do anything that breaches our contract and trust.”

He snickers, glancing at the iced whiskey on the coffee table before retrieving it and taking a sip.

“Well, you’re a diligent employee, I’m sure, and even a better caretaker for my little girl. But I’ll have you know, there’s nothing in our contract about having feelings other than what other professionals do for each other.”

“For each other,” You repeat.

“For each other.” His index finger traces the line of your jaw, eyes dropping to your hips.

The silence persists. Nothing but the sound of practically white noise from the television sounds and you’re lost in each other’s presence. Seungcheol’s hand drops the glass back on the coffee table until ultimately rests on your thigh, meanwhile, your hand fingers the fabric of his cotton dress shirt was still pristine despite the stereotypically messy dinner.

“...May I make the first move then?” You ask.

“I would want nothing more.”

Scooting closer, your lips line up with his, hesitating momentarily before feeling the thick pair brush up against yours languidly. There was an immediate sense of guilt that you held hostage in your gut, pulling away almost instantly. His eyes stare back at you confused, watching you draw out excuses. “Maybe we shouldn’t…This seems like a bad idea.”

“Why…” He pesters, pushes you back on the couch, pressing you on, “because I pay you? Because I employed you? Or…because you think you won’t be able to stop?”

“...all of it.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about.”

He takes hold of your hips and seats you in his lap in an instant, you now towering over him with your eyes blown out in shock. You groan making contact with his body, repeatedly bumping into your clothed cunt, dying to be set free of its restraints. His arms embrace your body with all the strength within him until he feels your lips finally relax against his. Your lips press against his daringly, a harsh pressure releasing with his tongue inviting you inside in mere seconds.

You press up against him, rhythmically grinding down on him. His groans leave him naturally, his grips tight on your hips. “Should I help you chase that high of yours?”

His hips guide you over his lap, seeing how one of your legs traps itself between his legs, he feels your body loosen underneath him, gradually picking up your own pace. His head slightly throws back at how bold you let yourself be. Your hand creeps through his hair, rolling your dampened arousal on the stiff steel thighs, “Mmh.”

“That feel good, beautiful?”

You nod achingly, “Yes, daddy.”

“Daddy,” his expression lits up, “Well that’s quite the declaration.”

“I’m sorry,” you manage to breathe out, “Can’t help myself.”

A devilish grin spreads far across his cheeks, pushing away the loose strands of hair away from your face. Your weight presses into him, and he feels his already hard cock twitch in his pants. “By all means, baby, call me whatever you want. If daddy is what you want, daddy is what you’ll get.”

You smile at him softly, gratefully, “Thank you…daddy.”

He soft moans, your body finding home in his embrace. Your tongue entangled with his, just pure heat between your body. His shirt is lost between the cushions of the couch, all thanks to you, and his hands reach underneath your shirt to hold you by the small of your back as the other kneads a breast in his hand. “Fuck, you feel heavenly.”

He moans against your swollen lips, running your body up and down on his thigh, hearing those sweet melodic moans he’s starting to get used to. Your skin was flushed against his, you whine loud and desperately for him to hear. “Please daddy. I want you to ruin me.”

And like that, a switch flips in his body and he’s pulling you up from his lap to loop around his waist. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

#seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seventeen smut #choi seungcheol smut #choi seungcheol #seventeen scoups #seventeen seungcheol #anon asks #asks #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x you #🎧 anon

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seresinsbabe · 1 year

Text

Some Strings Attached 3

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x fem!reader

Synopsis: It was supposed to be a quick fuck. No strings attached. That was all. But six weeks later when you’re staring at two pink lines you realize there were some strings attached. And now you have no idea how to find the father because you only know his first name.

Warnings: Mentions of abortion, drinking, this chapter is a bit angsty

Word Count: 1.7k

THIS BLOG AND ITS FICS ARE 18+! MINORS DNI!

I do not consent to having any of my work shared on any other platform. If you see any rendition of my works on another site know that it has been posted without my permission.

You had never left Jake’s mind. Even when he was flying you were there, the woman he’d hooked up with on a whim in the back of his truck. In some far corner until he was on the ground and then you were back on the forefront.

Which was unusual for Jake. He was more than content leading the bachelor lifestyle. It was easier with his job. Deployments sucked and he was more than sure it would only be that much harder if he knew he had someone waiting at home on him. Javy told him he was missing out. That sure, it sucked being away from your lover but knowing he had someone waiting on him to get home made coming home that much sweeter.

It wasn’t like Jake didn’t have anyone waiting on him to get home. He had his family, his sisters and their kids and his parents. That was all he really needed or at least that was all he thought he needed. He liked his life. He liked not having someone nitpicking at his every move. Not having someone getting mad if he left his boxers on the floor or forgot to put the toilet seat down.

He was almost certain that whatever infatuation he had with you he could get out of his system with a couple of hookups. That the only reason he couldn’t get you out of his mind was because he hadn’t been able to properly fuck you.

When he saw you in the store he was certain that was his chance. He’d get your number, flirt a little and then you’d meet up at his place or yours and then he’d have you screaming his name. Just as he did with every other woman he’d been with. Of course any excitement in seeing you again had quickly disappeared when he’d heard that word.

Pregnant.

You were pregnant and it was his. Or so you said. You didn’t come across as the type to irresponsibly have sex with multiple men, but then again he didn’t really know you. What he did know was that a child was not in the books for him. Jake didn’t have any responsibilities outside of work and bills. Hell, he didn’t even have pets or plants because he wasn’t around enough to properly care for them. A child? That was a whole different ball game.

Maybe he did feel a little bad about the way he’d gone about it, but could anyone blame him? It was sprung on him in the fucking vitamin aisle of a grocery store. He had only gone because Javy’s wife told him to bring something to the cookout and he couldn’t show up with nothing other than beer. Or at least not again. Last time he had promised to bring potato salad and dropped the ball on that.

The guilt of how he’d reacted to you finally started to settle in as soon as he pulled into Javy’s driveway. How long he’d sat there just staring at the dashboard of his truck he wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t until someone tapped their knuckles against the window that he finally got out of his own head. Jake turned to find Bob standing there, his wife and her prominent baby bump standing next to him looking equally concerned.

“You good man?” Bob asked when Jake finally stepped out of the truck. Jake took a heavy sigh as he grabbed the beer and macaroni salad from the back seat. For a moment he pictured a car seat securely nestled on the same spot and pudgy little hands reaching up to pull on a toy attached to the handle. The Texan quickly shook his head and turned back to Bob who now looked even more concerned.

“I’ll uh…talk about it later.” He nodded his head in the direction of the backyard gate. “Let’s enjoy the cookout right now, yeah?” Jake wanted to quickly change the subject. It wasn’t what he wanted to talk about right now, or at all really but he knew he would have to at some point. Honestly, who better to help him talk through it than his work family.

When he finally brought the topic up the sun was getting ready to go down and they were all situated around the in ground fire pit Jake had helped Javy build. He didn’t have to look to know everyone was looking at him with incredibly disappointed faces. The gravity of the situation and the way he’d reacted was hitting him full force.

“I don’t know what to do.” Jake finally relented, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. His green eyes stared directly into the flames before glancing up at Elyssa, Javy’s wife, when she spoke.

“Man up and apologize.” The tone of her voice was one Jake only heard when he was scolding her kids. “This baby is a result of your actions just as much as it is hers. If you don’t want the responsibility that’s on you, but when she does exactly what she told you she would and doesn’t let you in that baby’s life it’s no one’s fault but your own.” Elyssa shifted in her seat as she spoke, moving a sleeping toddler from one position to the other.

Jake knew she was right. He needed to apologize, but before he did he needed to figure out if this was what he wanted. He’d grown so used to not having to care for anyone but himself. Sure, he flew million dollar jets, but a baby seems exponentially harder.

“What if I’m not a good dad?” The words tumbled out like vomit. “I mean…I didn’t have the best role model.” That was putting it lightly. Seresin Senior was an ass. Verbally and mentally abusive to his entire family, even a bit physically, and a fucking drunk. Nothing Jake had ever done satisfied his father. Not when he made varsity on the football team or joined the Navy, made into TOPGUN. None of it. He’d spent his whole life trying to appease his father when he knew it would never happen.

Jake didn’t want to end up like his father, even if he’d already done so much more with his life than his dad ever had. Still, he was scared he would end up just like him. That wasn’t the childhood he wanted for anyone, let alone his own children.

“Then prove you’re not him by doing what’s right.” This time it was Bob speaking up. “I get that you’re scared, but think about how much more scared she is. It’s her body that’s changing, she’s the one that will be pushing this baby out, breastfeeding. She could be doing this entire thing alone and scared. How is that fair?” Jake almost wanted to ask how it was fair to ask him to be forced into this, but no one was forcing him.

You’d given him the option, but you’d made it abundantly clear that if he didn’t want this, he didn’t get to come back. Just as Elyssa had said – this was just as much Jake’s fault as it was yours. He could have said no to sex without the condom. He could have even, at the very least, pulled out but he didn’t. The blame couldn’t land solely on you.

He stared back into the fire. Nodding his head after a good minute. “Alright, yeah you guys are right.” He hated admitting that he was wrong and that someone might know more than him, but this was one time even his ego had to take a step back.

Reaching behind him he pulled out the ultrasound photo that he’d shoved in his back pocket. He had almost thrown it away, but that annoying little voice in the back of his head had convinced him to keep it. Scanning the photo his eyes took in everything on that glossy square. Your name, how many weeks along you were, the measurements. How could they measure something so small? The baby was nothing but a blip pointed out by a white arrow.

Flipping the image over he read the scribbles on the back. All your information written in dainty half script. His thumb ran over it and then he flipped it back over. All the ways he could fuck up that little spec were running through his mind. Putting doubt in his head that he was actually capable of doing this.

Later that night Jake laid in bed, staring at his phone screen as it lit up the dark room. He’d typed, deleted and retyped his message to you over and over again. At first he had just laid it all out in the message. Bared his soul, but then he quickly realized that seemed like a little much given the way he’d acted in the store. So then he deleted it and just typed ‘Hey’. That was quickly discarded. He couldn’t text you like you were one of his hookups. Even if that was kind of exactly what you had been, but now you were much more than that. Finally he settled on something simple.

After proofreading the message a time or two he finally sent it and then immediately put his phone on do not disturb. Otherwise he’d lay there the rest of the night waiting to hear the text tone. As if you were even up at this time of night.

His mind wasted no time conjuring up images of the two of you. Ones where you were a happy, nuclear family. The exact opposite of what he’d grown up with. Images where he’d help a very pregnant you up like he watched Bob help his own wife up. And ones where he collected your sleeping child while you followed behind with their blanket and the sticky sippy cup they’d been drinking out of. It was wild considering he had no clue if that’s the course things would run between the two of you. Would it make things easier? Sure, but that didn’t mean it would happen.

Just because you were having a child together didn’t mean you would fall in love.

@rosewritesitout@startrekfangirl2233@blackwidownat2814@izzyomfg@entertainmentgal8@cowgirlornot@zbeez-outlet@glenpowellsstargirl@laneyspaulding19@isakyakiisak@clancycucumber230@crthurston@Marvellover91@the-house-of-rose-and-ember@fighterpilothoe@eternalsams@honeymilkshakesblog@Cycbaby@whatislovevavy@cherrycola27@so-I’m-blue@cassiemitchell@bioodforbiood@mjsvinyl@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth@buckystwilight@luvrrish@Yourmomssidehoesposts@Urmomssidehoesposts@afterglowsb-tch13@classyunknownlover@pono-pura-vida@shewritesfiction13@plaper1@milestomaverick@stiles-banshees@hangmanscoming@alana4610@itsa-me-marioooo@freeshavocadoooo@ravenhood2792@finelytaylored@fredsandlokiswhore@lillie-g98@one-sweet-gubler@saskiameyersstuff@hopeless-romanticnamed-s@agentstarkid@lilyhw1@nobody7102@cosmic-psychickitty@goldenloverschild@novagreen04@sophham@algae-tm@darkheartcherry@djs8891@Kenia-rvl@mannsachds@shawnsblue@food8me@Littlebear423@topgunruinedme@emilyoflanternhill@prettygirlsily@bellaireland1981@shinypapervoidduck@japannialllotion@sveetnn@zetasaturno99@Jazminlahey20@bookish-bucky@aaprilshowers@strokesofstokes@jstarr86@Queenyamimarrero@krismdavis@Sagittarius-LoveWitch@lunamoonbby@blitchen@supergoldenlotus@just-a-confused-creature@shedevil22@Caidi-paris@Neonkiwi@dreamgirl3300@Thorin-Oakenshield-2345@chaiandgoodvibes@wooya1224@roosters-girl@endofdays56@chaoticassidy@princessashley99@appledressing@The-mouse27@lunamoonbby@t4medicroe

#jake seresin fic #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x y/n #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #jake seresin x you #top gun au #top gun maverick

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noddaduck · 5 days

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What gets me about Kipperlilly is that while her trauma envy is messed up, she really is facing an opposite problem to the Bad Kids.

Some people on here are saying that if she wanted to go on big adventures she should have done it herself and not expected some kind of plot hook to give her an opening. But we are seeing how that is going for the Bad Kids this season, and it clearly sucks. Fabian went on his first date with Mazey, yet so much of that conversation and role play was still about the mystery and the mission. Gorgug lost a chance to spend time with his bio parents because he was trying to get into a really learning heavy class. The Bad Kids are such good friends, but they can only spend time together in shared classes or as part of the mission. Why would you expect that of anyone?

Most Aguefort kids aren’t going on big real-world adventures like the Bad Kids cause that’s literally being in High School while also working a full time career oriented job. And yet some of these kids know that this is all just leading up to that real job that they’ve never really experienced or seen proof that they could handle. Is it so weird for a child to want confirmation that they’ll be able to do all the things they’re supposed to do as an adult, especially when they are seeing other kids get that confirmation?

Riz isn’t strong because he suffered, he’s strong because he has an amazing mom he looked up to and learned from and who taught him. Having that vision of his own best self, not just a copy of another person but really something he loves that he was able to really learn thanks to the support he was lucky to get DESPITE his and his mom’s financial situation. He chased his own dream of being a master detective, of dishing out justice, and he got so good at it that it let him kill an ancient red dragon.

Personally, I was one of the smart kids in class, but I wasn’t one of the gifted and talented. One kid was working with circuitry in a class where I was learning about screws and levers. In a photography class I got paired up with a kid in a lower grade than me who full on made his own model rocket fuel for homemade bottle rockets. Combining that with having ADHD that nobody properly educated me about, I always thought I was just missing something. I’m taking my medicine, I’m going to class and trying to join clubs, why is it that every time I ask someone to teach me they don’t have time for a total beginner? Why is being my own teacher the only way to learn these things, and why can’t I do that if apparently everyone else does?

I just don’t blame Kipperlilly for being upset when she is presented with the Bad Kids as an example to follow despite the fact that neither she NOR the Bad Kids are given proper time to actually work toward that goal. The Bad Kids don’t actually have the time for adventures on top of their regular lives, but they are forced to do it anyway. Kipperlilly allowed for time so the Rat Grinders could have whatever their normal lives looked like, at least until they all were taken by Ancarna. If your choice is to either work yourself to death and be told you did the correct thing, or to take your time and be shown that you are wasting it, why wouldn’t you be angry?

#dimension 20 #fantasy high junior year #fantasy high #fhjy #fhjy spoilers

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charliesgoodboy · 1 year

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Scaramouche x Male reader

WARNING: This has NSFW themes I don't care for age I'm not your parent, just don't complain to be if something bad happnes like you getting caught if you werent supposed to read this.

A/N: Guess this is Karma😔

This wasn't it was supposed to go.

It went all wrong.

You werent supposed to be being fucked in a closet within your own home.

But that wasn't the issue really.

The issue was it was that you already had someone.

And you had tricked them.

They think your at work right now, but no.

Your in your own closet being fucked by your own best friend Sacramouche.

They trusted you. And you should trust them. But thats not the point right now, it felt to good to even give a shit.

Your silent whimpers and muffled grunts had filled the closet, with Sacramouche's hand covering your mouth.

"Shh, be quiet. You wouldn't want them to hear you. To hear you being fucked by your friend like the little slut you are. Just begging for me huh??"

You look at the corner of your eye, Sacramouche already looking at you with eyes filled with lust, and want.

So many things were running through your mind, what if you get caught? What if you get kicked out? What if they forgive you? Fuck if they forgave you it'd make you feel even worse.

"I know what your thinking love, don't worry, if we do get caught you've still got me of course. I'd be able to fuck you like this. Every. Day."

A shiver goes down your spine, every single day? How would you even handle that?

You can barely handle him now. If one loud like sound slips from your lips you'd be done for.

His hand slipped from your mouth to secure your hips straight, so his thrust won't be so sloppy.

And was that a horrible idea.

The moment he pushed your hips down with both of his hands you lets out a loud moan that anyone in the house could definitally hear.

Your partner was confused. They knew they heard something from they're bedroom, so they went to go see what it was.

What? I'm sure you'd be confused as shit if you heard a loud moan in your house.

"Shit..I told you to be quiet." So now he's blaming you?!? It was his fault in the first place he went down on you to hard. Not that you didn't like it though.

"Me?? It was you who- hmph!?" His hand was back on your mouth, but the thrust kept going he wasn't going to stop? You would just be sitting on his dick the whole time which would get you impatient and want more, but it would only be for a little while.

"What the hell was that? I know i heard something come from here..but..it was like a moan..I know I'm the only one in this house."

The atmosphere was just mixes of emotions at this point. Lust, need, want, and confusion.

The bastard behined you decided test you by being more of a dick- no pun intended, by giving you marks down your back starting off with hickies, then bite marks.

This fucker really wanted you guys to get caught, right after telling you to stay quiet.

The marking of your skin continued, but it was extremley hard to stay quiet even with his hand on your mouth.

But another moan slipped.

It was quieter than the last, but could still be heard by anyone in the room.

Footsteps. Footsteps could be heard getting closer and closer, the panic was rising in you, the door was going to open, the door was going to open.

A ringing sound could be heard throughout the house. It was your house phone. Thank whatever fucking god who did this.

Your partners footsteps stopped and faded away into the other room to answer the phone.

"Told you we would be okay." You shake his hand off of you and turned your head to him giving him the most pissed off look you could.

"Fuck you."

He chuckled. "Watch what you say love, it might backfire~"

#I'm under pressure rn #Scaramouche x male reader #Genshin x male reader #Genshin impact Scaramouche #Male reader insert #Male reader #Male reader x genshin impact #scaramouche x male reader #scaramouche genshin x reader #Scaramouche x male y/n #male y/n #genshin impact x reader

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herofics · 10 days

Note

Hi. How are you?

I've feel really suicidal lately so i wanted to ask some angst/confort of dadzawa, please.

His daughter attempts to take her life and he arrives home from patrolling just in time beforw it was too late. And maybe the after math

Thanks, i love your writing, it have really help me to cope in multiple times

A/N: I'm good, thanks for asking :D I’m sorry you’re feeling this way anon, I hope this can help even a little bit. I wanted to write this quickly for you, so I'm posting this already. Thank you for liking my writing, it means a lot to me that I can help people cope.

TW: Suicide attempt and blood

Aizawa was home a couple of hours earlier than usual, because he wanted to surprise you with some of your favorite take-out. He entered the house to find all of the lights off and the house eerily quiet. Had you gone out? You always let him know where you were going, even if he was at work, because he had requested you do so. Aizawa felt like something was wrong, there was this pit in his stomach that just kept growing, the closer he got to the door to your room.

He had turned the kitchen light on when he placed the take-out on the table, but the hallway was still only dimly lit as he walked towards your room. He didn’t see what he was stepping in, but he could feel something soaking his socks as he passed the bathroom door. There was light coming from under the door and he heard the water running. It was odd. As he looked closer, he noticed the water was slightly red. His heart jumped into his throat as he tried the door handle. It was locked. Aizawa didn’t hesitate for a moment as he kicked it down.

That’s where he found you, in the tub, bloody water all around you. He quickly turned off the running water and pulled you out of the tub. There were these deep gashes on both your wrists, that were slowly bleeding you dry. You were clammy and incredibly pale compared to your usual skin tone.

“(Name)!? (Name)?! Please answer me” he begged.

You weren’t moving, and he wasn’t even sure if you were breathing. He pulled his phone out and called for medical assistance, as he held you in his arms. He was trying to put pressure on the wounds on your wrists, to hopefully stem the bleeding. The next four minutes, before the paramedics showed up, were the longest of his life. Watching you slip further and further away was terrifying.

When the paramedics came, Aizawa let them do their job. They lifted you on the gurney and one of them kept working on you as they carted you off to the ambulance. Aizawa got a ride in the back of the ambulance, he was just silently praying you would make it. He didn’t know what he would do if you didn’t. Parents aren’t supposed to outlive their children.

When the ambulance got to the nearest hospital, you were quickly taken away, and Aizawa was left standing behind the doors that lead to the trauma center. He walked to the lobby and sat down on one of the chairs, leaning his elbows on his knees and his head on his hands. His hair hung around his face as he stared down at the floor. How could he not have noticed how much pain you were in? How did he not see the signs? Surely he should have noticed. You were his kid, and you’d always been close, so how could he not have seen this coming? He’d been so busy with work lately, both his job as a hero and a teacher. Aizawa blamed himself, who else could he blame?

When you woke up, the first thing you felt was confusion. You looked around, but you felt like you couldn’t focus your eyes. You did notice someone in black clothes and with black hair, snoring away in the armchair next to your hospital bed. You looked at your father and you couldn’t help but tear up. This wasn’t supposed to happen, you didn’t want this to happen, you didn’t want to wake up, so how come you were relieved to still be here? How come, just the sight of your father made you feel so guilty.

Aizawa woke up to sobs coming from your bed. Ironically, it was like music to his ears, to hear your voice again, even if you were crying.

“Good morning angel” Aizawa said, as nonchalantly as he could.

He didn’t want you to think he was angry or disappointed, he just wanted to sound like what he truly felt, heartbroken, scared and confused.

“D-da-dad?” you blubbered.

“I’m here” Aizawa said, taking your hand.

“I’m sosry…” you stumbled over your words, and continued sobbing profusely.

“It’s okay angel, it’s okay” Aizawa attempted to assure you.

You just sobbed for a while as your father held your hand. You didn’t understand how he wasn’t angry, surely he must have been disappointed in you for being weak, for giving up.

“I’m-I’m sorry for being weak, I’m so-sorry for… you know” you sniffled.

“You’re not weak, you were in a lot of pain” Aizawa said sincerely. “I’m sorry for not noticing, I’m your father, I should have been able to tell you were suffering”

“I think you not noticing was kind of the point” you joked dryly.

“Even if you were actively hiding your intentions from me, I should have noticed something. I knew you were in pain, but I had no idea how bad it was” Aizawa sighed, squeezing your hand.

“Can we just not talk about it? It’s not your fault and what’s done is done” you yawned.

“We can not talk about it now, but we’re going to have to talk about this eventually” he emphasized the “now”.

“Yeah, I know…” you sighed. “I’m just tired, I wanna go back to sleep” you lied.

You let go of your dad’s hand and turned your back on him as you laid on the bed. You didn’t want to talk about it, and you didn’t know how to either. How could you explain to someone else how you felt, when you didn’t even know yourself.

“I love you angel, sleep well” Aizawa said, as he leaned back in his chair.

He didn’t want to pressure you, but he wanted to understand. He wanted to know why you would do something like this, but he didn’t know if he would understand, no matter what your explanation. He loved you so much. He remembered the first time he’d held you when you had been born, and the time that had almost been the last, not 24 hours earlier. He would never forget either of those times. The first one filled with such joy and the other with such indescribable fear. No child should die before their parents, and he was just happy you were going to be okay. It was going to be a long road, but you were going to be fine, he knew you were strong, no matter what you thought of yourself. You would keep fighting, and he would be there to help you up when you stumbled. He would walk with you, holding your hand through it all.

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #aizawa shouta #dadzawa #mha scenarios #bnha scenarios #mha angst #bnha angst #comfort #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader #mha x reader #suicidal tw #blood tw

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holyhead-hufflepuff · 2 years

Text

pathways

FRED WEASLEY X READER

"I am more interested in experiencing life than in analyzing it" - will bradley

warnings: none

notes: lol not me writing about how you don't have to follow a set path and I'm willingly and gladly pre-med

"Stop it, Fred Weasley." A laugh escaped your lips and ruined your annoyed facade as the redhead continued to poke your sides. "Quit it! Some of us are attempting to study for our N.E.W.Ts."

Fred flopped back in his chair, a cheeky look smudged his face, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. "You and every other nerd in this castle. My mum hasn't let up on Georgie and me about studying for these boring tests. What is knowing mooncalf M.O.M classification going to do for my future?"

"XX," you beamed, putting down your quills and scrolls. "Don't take these tests too seriously; they are meant to see how you handle intense, lengthy material. Just like the O.W.Ls but with boomslang. Get it? Because it's a slow-acting poison, and the exams are slowly killing my brain cells."

"No, I didn't because you don't need boomslang to make the potions I care about. I want to make people forget about bad times- not induce blistering in their throats until they chock on their blister pus."

"Boomslang doesn't do that," you teased, sitting next to Fred and placing your arms around his shoulders. "Nonetheless, I see your point and agree that these exams will do nothing for your future."

Fred shrugged his shoulders, your arms dropping softly. "Do you, though? You, my mum, my family, and all the professors push school onto me. I'm not brilliant like Percy- Merlin, save his soul from the ministry- nor do I have some niche brilliance like Bill and Charlie. I'm a joke. My future is making sure people laugh at my antics and not me."

You watched Fred and the way his lips pressed together as his eyebrows knit together. He was always soft laughing lines; you forgot how much he'd grown up since the two of you met. You forgot how much of his softness had been sharpened by external pressure and expectations.

"Do you know what I see when I look at you, Fred Weasley?"

"Someone who is going to fail all of their N.E.W.Ts?" Fred questioned back, avoiding looking at you.

"Yes," you laughed, nudging the boy lightly with your shoulder. "I also see the boy who runs to crying, homesick first-years and shows them Whiz-Bangs. Or, the boy who acts "scary" to anyone who likes his sister but would walk through fire to make her laugh when she's heartbroken. Even better, I catch a glimpse of the thirteen-year-old boy who grabbed my hand and ran me down the hall so I wouldn't get blamed for a prank on Filch."

"Actually, it was George. I just never had the heart to tell you that you got us mixed up," Fred laughed, his cheeks warmed with embarrassment.

"Nope. You don't need to put yourself down and throw a pity party, Mr. Weasley." You threw your arm back over his shoulders, bringing him in for a side-hug. "If you could see yourself through my point of view, your ego would explode."

"Please, I always have room for flattery."

"I'm sure you do."

"In all seriousness, thank you," Fred whispered, leaning his head on you. "I-I don't know what came over me? I have all this confidence in George and I's plan. We aren't the type of brilliant our mum wants us to be, but we have this dream and all these ideas. I just-my family means everything and my mum has the best intentions. If everyone pushes something at you- maybe it is for the best?"

"Or, maybe some people aren't supposed to follow the pathway? Don't get me wrong, I will be a ministry drone for years until I get a position in the International Confederation of Wizards. However, I want that for myself. Either way, it's not wrong only if you want it for yourself and not someone else."

"I wish my parents could hear you right now," Fred chuckled, his shoulders dropping. "I want them to be happy with me being happy."

"They wanted nothing more than for you to be happy. It just takes parents a while to realize what will make their kids happy."

"You're too smart to be a ministry drone, you know," Fred smirked, wrapping his arm around your waist and giving you a squeeze. "Too attractive too."

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #harry potter headcanon #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fluff #holyhead-hufflepuff

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jmojellybae · 1 year

Text

Waiting For A Girl Like You - Part 1

Pairing: Robin Buckley x Fem!Reader

Word count: 4.7k

Summary: Having to spend spring break in a new city as a stranger wasn’t going to be easy, but fate sometimes comes through when you need it the most. Or: It only took you one week to fall for the weirdest girl in Hawkins.

CW: Language. Robin being hard on herself. Period typical homophobia (I’m sorry, but it’s brief in this chapter and I promise it isn’t the main focus of this story) Reader has divorced parents. Reader has an asshole dad. Reader is from New York City.

A/N: This was requested but I wanted to turn it into a series. This story will be 7 parts. Each part will be equivalent to a day so the story will take place over a week! This first part is more like an introduction, but don’t worry, there will definitely be more Robin in the next parts.

Masterlist

🎶Enjoy my 80’s Robin playlist here🎶

Sunday, March 20th 1986 - 10:35 AM

“God, I can’t do this anymore.”

You cross your arms defiantly as you inspect the plethora of moving boxes that cluttered your semi-empty room. You’ve been unpacking for the last two days straight, but it’s like the damn things were never ending. For every box you emptied, two more seemed to have popped up from thin air and you're certain that you’re no closer to seeing the floor then when you started. Your mom wasn’t fairing much better either. Who knew two women could have so much shit between them?

You moved to Hawkins, Indiana a few days ago leaving your life in New York City behind after your parents had the world’s messiest divorce. Your dad was a grade A asshole and has been your entire life, so it wasn’t the hardest, or the most surprising decision that you chose to stay with your mom, but the move from a big, bustling city to a quaint and, to put it nicely, dull small town was an adjustment you weren’t quite prepared for. Having to leave your friends so far into the school year was the most difficult part of it all. You begged your mom to push the moving date till after spring break so you could at least spend the week with your friends as a final farewell, but it wasn’t feasible. You couldn’t really blame her though, she was miserable in that city, and she wanted to get as far away from your dad as she could as fast as she could, but now you’ll be spending spring break in Hawkins as a total stranger to everyone and everything. What the hell were you supposed to do for a whole week besides unpack boxes?

“Who knows, maybe you’ll grow to love it.” Your mom said to you on the first day you got here.

You remember smiling at her, trying to be optimistic. You didn’t want to break your mom's heart anymore than it already was. You could definitely handle this new life for a couple of months anyway. Hopefully the rest of the school year goes by in a flash and you’ll get into a college that is not anywhere near Indiana.

Ugh. School. It was hard enough making friends back in New York, how the hell were you going to make any here? This is the kind of town where everyone knows everyone since childhood. Did you even want to make friends if you plan on leaving this place as soon as you graduate? You ran your fingers through hair exasperated. You needed some fresh air. You needed to do something that wasn’t unpacking anymore damn boxes.

You rushed down the stairs of your new home, suddenly feeling suffocated by your unfamiliar environment. Your mom was humming away in the kitchen, carefully putting away plates and other various knick knacks. You explained to her that you were going out. “Sight seeing” you said amusingly. You aren’t sure if Hawkins even has a “downtown” worth exploring, hell, you knew next to nothing about this place, so maybe driving around wouldn’t be the worst idea ever. Your mom seemed happy with the thought of you wanting to get to know Hawkins better, so she excitedly tosses you the keys to her car.

“Do me a favor while you’re out and about and try to find a decent pizzeria.” You’re mom says as she ushers you out of the front door.

“Yea right mom, I doubt Hawkins, Indiana is known for their pizza.”

“Hey, you never know!”

You hop into the car and give your mom a sharp finger salute before backing out of the driveway, eager to see what you will discover in this seemingly unsuspecting town.

It was late morning on Sunday, so the roads were rather barren. It was unusual, unsettling even, how truly quiet this place was. There was no traffic, no constant honking or people screaming about nothing to one another. The whole town lacked the usual perpetual buzz of life you were used to hearing your entire life. You’re not going to lie to yourself though, a part of you is kind of enjoying the placid nature of Hawkins.

As expected, there wasn’t much to see. You managed to find the library, police department, your new high school (go Tigers?), and a few restaurants but nothing that immediately jumped out at you and unfortunately there wasn't a pizza place sight. You’d only been driving around for about 20 minutes or so and you’re certain that you just saw everything Hawkins had to offer. You were about to head back home, ready to suffer through more boxes until you spotted a shopping center that was painted orange and purple.

“Oh an arcade!”

You never thought something as mundane as an arcade would get you so excited, but it was probably the most interesting thing you’ve seen so far. You pull into the shabby parking lot that had a few cars scattered about and parked in a hurry. You get out of the car and walk up to the double doors attempting to open them but they were locked. You notice a small sign with times on the window and see that the arcade didn’t open till 3pm. You check your watch: 11:00am

“Of course.” You sigh, shoulders sagging with defeat

All the excitement drains out of you in an instant. You lean in close to the glass and cup your hands around your eyes determined to get a better view inside.

“This place is actually rad…” You mumble to yourself.

“Hey, the arcade isn’t open yet.”

You nearly jump out of your shoes at the voice behind you. You whip around harshly, making yourself dizzy with the motion.

“Whoa, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you!”

A boy, about your age stands behind you with outstretched hands and an apologetic look. He’s wearing a hideous green colored vest that says ‘Family Video’

“Sneaking up on people like that usually scares them!” You shout, voice shaky with fear and adrenaline. You put your hand over your chest to keep your heart from beating out of it. The nerve of this guy!

“Yea, yea you’re right. Totally my bad.” He eyes you curiously.

“Ok well. Thanks for the info. I’ll just be on my way.” You say, tiptoeing cautiously back to your car.

“Wait! I actually work at Family Video. It’s just down the end of this building.” He points. “We uh. We just opened up for the day.”

You briefly look into the direction of where he’s pointing, still wary of his presence. You shrug your shoulders and turn back waiting for him to continue.

“And?”

“And I feel bad for scaring you. How about you stop in and pick out a movie to rent? Free of charge of course.” He runs a hand through his voluminous hair, making it impossibly fuller, and puts on what you think might be a smoldering look. You can’t help but roll your eyes.

I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name…?”

“Oh it’s Steve.” He puts his hand on his chest and stands up a little taller. “Steve Harringto—”

“Are you hitting on me, Steve?” You ask bluntly.

“Yes…?” He answers with a grimace, and you snort.

“Sorry, not interested, but I’ll definitely take you up on that free movie.”

Steve’s mouth hangs open for a bit before he shuts it with a resounding click and shakes his head laughing, clearly not offended at the rejection.

“You know what, that’s fair, I did offer.” He puts his hands in his pockets and scuffs the tip of his shoe against the concrete. “And what did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t.” You walk past him smirking.

A bell chimes above the glass door as you enter Family Video. It’s much bigger than your average movie rental store, which doesn’t surprise you to some degree. With not much to do in Hawkins, it’s only fitting that they have an above average place like this to cater to weekends and school breaks much like this week. Steve walks in just after you and shouts into an empty store.

“Yo Rob! Got someone you can help out!”

“Alright Dingus, no need to yell! Geez!” A disembodied voice calls out from somewhere.

“You’re not helping me?” You turn to Steve with a cheeky expression.

“Yea no. I’m taking my bruised ego and going to do inventory out of sight.”

You genuinely laugh, and so does he. Despite an awkward first encounter, he doesn’t seem so bad, at least he’s being a good sport about earlier. Steve leaves you standing in the middle of the store as he disappears behind a door in the back. You look around, taking in all of the movie titles packed on shelves and the fun posters plastered on the walls. You hear mumbling and rustling coming from behind the register. You walk over and lean on the counter only to see a young woman sitting crossed legged on the floor, sorting some empty VHS cases into stacks.

“Hello?” You say gently, careful not to startle the girl, unlike some people.

The girl looks up from her spot and you feel your breath catch in your throat the moment she locks eyes with you. Her eyes are a beautiful deep blue and her face is littered with the most adorable freckles you’ve ever seen. She smiles, crooked and toothy and you would have fallen over if you weren’t leaning your weight on the counter top.

“Oh hi!” Her voice is raspy, and it cracks slightly, making your ears twitch. She stands up and brushes off her vest. She’s wearing a loose fitting suit with the sleeves rolled up, complete with a tie and blazer. Even though her clothes seem to be oversized in every aspect, she still looks incredibly dashing. “Sorry, I kinda got lost in what I was doing. My coworker said you needed some help?”

You look at the lopsided name tag she has pinned on her vest.

Well, hello there Robin.

You slightly shake your head to clear your thoughts and remember you need to stop staring and say actual words like a normal human being.

“Y—yea. Your coworker graciously offered me a free rental on account of him walking up to me like a creep in the parking lot and scaring the hell out of me.”

Robin groans and runs a hand over her face. You immediately take notice of the pretty, silver rings she has on her fingers, particularly the ring with a small chain connected to her bracelet.

“Oh no. I apologize for whatever he did.” She says flatly.

“Nah. It’s fine. I know he didn’t mean to, but I think his attempt at flirting scared me even more.”

Robin laughs with a minor squeak at the end, and you swear you felt your heart do gymnastics against your sternum.

“Leave it to Steve to flirt with every pretty girl that crosses his path.” Robin sighs.

Your eyebrows quirk up when you hear the word ‘pretty’ and Robin seems to have caught on to what she said rather quickly. For a split second, you see a flash of panic in her eyes, but it disappears just as fast as it came. She clears her throat and tugs on the collar of her button up.

“Did uh—did you have a movie in mind?” She asks shakily.

You didn’t really have a whole lot of time dedicated to watching movies as of late, considering your parents divorce and all the time that took up from your life. You don’t even know what’s out or what’s good. You're so out of the loop of what’s popular right now.

“Ah, I don’t know. Maybe something funny? My family could definitely use a good laugh.” You try to smile, hoping your voice didn’t come off too sad.

“Y—yea, a good laugh never hurts.” Robin lets out a breath she was holding. “Our comedy section is over here. I’ll show you.”

Robin stumbles out from behind the counter, knocking over an organized stack of VHS’s she was compiling. She makes a frustrated sound and waves her hand dismissively at her now ruined work. You follow behind her, quietly admiring the full ensemble that is her suit.

“I like your suit.” You blurt out. So much for quietly admiring.

“Oh!” She spins on her heels to face you and walks slowly backward, rubbing the back of her neck meekly. “Thanks uh. Sometimes I get weird looks from customers.”

You scoff. “Well, those people obviously have no sense of style. You pull it off very well.”

Robin beams and shyly ducks her head, you definitely don’t miss the light pink blush colored on her cheeks, making her freckles stand out even more. She spins around again and almost trips on her untied shoelaces of her converse, but she tries to play it off like a skip. You giggle behind your hand and see the tips of her ears go adorably red.

“So um, here’s the comedy movies, and this shelf has the newer releases”

You examine the numerous titles on display, none really stand out to you immediately. Hell, renting a movie wasn’t even on your agenda today, so you go completely blank trying to choose.

“Have a recommendation?” You ask after a moment.

Robin hums and taps at her lips, pondering. You stare at her pursed mouth and at the way the tendons in her hand shift every time she moves her finger.

God, keep it together and stop being weird.

“I’m not like, the biggest comedy connoisseur, but—”

Robin reaches for a movie on the newer release shelf and holds it up with both hands framing it.

“Have you seen the first Vacation movie?” She asks.

“Oh I actually have! I enjoyed how stupid funny it was.”

“Well—” She hands you the case. “This is the sequel, European Vacation. I think most people like the first one better but that’s usually the case when it comes to sequels, right? The first one is always better, but this one is still good. A lot of hilarious moments. Of course, you don’t have to choose this one, you can choose something else—”

Robin is suddenly talking a mile a minute, gesturing wildly with her hands while doing so. You’re taken off guard with the sudden outpouring of words, but you keep up, hanging on to everything she says. You study her, totally fascinated with her scratchy voice and how animated her face is. You don’t ever want her to stop talking.

“—I’m not sure why I picked this one out, maybe it’s because I saw it with my dad last summer and it’s kinda the only comedy movie I know of right now. Or I—um.”

You smile softly and nod your head, letting her know that you were listening, but she frowns, internally scolding herself and she deflates.

“God, I’m so sorry. Didn’t mean to go on like that.” She runs a hand through her tousled honey hair and pulls at the roots in obvious frustration.

“Hey no, don’t apologize.” Your heart cracks at the sight of her looking so visibly upset with herself and you wonder if it happens often. “You sold me, I’ll get this one!“

“Oh, are you sure?” Robin looks unconvinced.

“Of course. I’ve always wanted to see this one anyway, I just haven’t had the time.” You smile trying to assure her.

Robin takes a deep breath through her nose, spinning the ring on her middle finger with her thumb.

“Cool, cool. I’ll get you rung up.”

You follow Robin back to the register. She quickly finds the tape in a drawer and puts it in the case snapping it shut. You open your bag pulling out your wallet, riffling through its contents for some cash. Robin tilts her head, looking at you quizzically.

“Hey, the movie is free, remember?”

“Oh I can pay for it. I know your coworker was just being silly, I really didn’t expect a free movie anyway.”

“Steve is always silly, but uh—what if—what if I insist?”

You freeze, and look up from your wallet. Robin is crimson red, and you feel like an arrow just penetrated your heart.

“Oh, you insist huh?” You tease.

You lean your elbows on the counter, cupping your face with both hands and boldly flutter your eyelashes. You think you might have laid it on a little too thick when Robin goes rigid where she stands, but then she starts choking on nothing and pulls at the collar of her shirt again.

“Yea. Yea I—I do.” She stutters and attempts to smile, voice cracking again. It’s an octave higher than what it has been this whole time and you feel your knees buckle again.

“Well I can’t argue with that.” You giggle as you put your wallet away.

Robin laughs nervously, clearly flustered, but you don’t want to think too much into it. You can’t, right?

“I still need to take down your information, you know, company policy and all.” Robin says with a wave of a hand as she boots up the computer behind the counter. “Name?”

You give her your name and Robin repeats it as she types it into the system. You know she’s just doing her job, but the way your name sounded falling from her lips sends your insides into a frenzy.

Chill out.

“Address?”

“Hmm? Oh, uh…”

You say your address after it took you a few seconds to remember it, and you watch hypnotized as Robin expertly types away on the keyboard, fingers dancing between each key, never missing a beat.

“Okay, you’re all set!” Robin chirps. She hands you the VHS and you grab it, fingers slightly brushing against hers. The contact was so light but it still made your stomach drop with how warm her skin was. Robin yanks her hand back quickly and you swear you hear her mutter an apology.

“Thanks for the help.” You clutch the VHS tight against your chest like it’s your most prized possession. “And thank Steve for me too, you know, for scaring me and offering a free movie as an apology.”

Robin shakes her head and laughs. “No problem. Uh, I’m Robin, by the way.” Robin points to her name tag and curses under her breath when she notices how crooked it is.

“Nice to meet you, Robin.” You smile.

And it really is. You feel fortunate that the first couple of people you meet in Hawkins seem to be decent. It’s like an enormous weight has been lifted off your shoulders. The weight of the unknown, the weight of your parents' divorce, the weight of moving over 800 miles to a strange, new place. You weren’t entirely sure what kind of people you were going to meet in this small town, but at least you know there could be some cool people out there. Maybe even people you could call friends in the future.

Robin’s expression softens, and she starts spinning her middle finger ring again, mouth opening and closing repeatedly like she’s searching for the right words.

“Hey, so are you new in town? Because I—”

She’s cut off by the bell chiming above the store door. A gaggle of kids, a few years younger than you, burst through the threshold chatting loudly at one another, penetrating the otherwise quiet store. A petite older girl with tight brown curls follows behind them, carrying a couple of coffees in her hands and looking completely miserable. Robin groans, and bonks her forehead a couple of times against the counter top softly.

“Okay so I’ve got a long list of movies we need for this week.”

“I don’t want to spend the entire spring break watching movies, Dustin!”

“I’m with Max on this one dude. We gotta do something actually fun.”

“Fun? Mike, talking to your girlfriend on the phone all day isn’t fun.”

“Shut up man!”

The group rushes up the counter, still talking over themselves, and Robin was having none of it.

“Nope, nope, nope! Go to Steve! He’s in the back room! I’m with a customer!” Robin says assertively, putting her hands out in front of her like a force field. Funny enough it seems to work, and the kids stop dead in their tracks.They quiet for a moment, blinking at one another, before they resume their bickering and storm off toward the back.

“Hey wait you can’t actually go back there—! Ah screw it. Steve’s problem.”

The brunette walks over with a sincere contrite look and slides a coffee on the counter top to Robin. Robin catches the sliding cup without looking, like they’ve rehearsed it a million times before.

“Sorry Robin, got you a coffee.”

“Thank you, Nance.” Robin says, devoid of any emotion.

She gives Robin one last apology before walking away toward the back, attempting to wrangle up the kids. You stare at Robin, the group, and then back to Robin, extremely intrigued.

“What was that?” You ask, giggling.

“Ugh, don’t ask.” Robin replies, gripping her coffee like a lifeline.

You shrug, still curious. “Well alright. What were you going to ask me?”

Robin tilts her head in confusion like a little puppy.

“You said something about me being new in town? Which I am by the way.”

“Oh!” Robin exclaims.

She’s suddenly very interested in a particular chipped edge of the counter, picking at it with her finger nail and trying her hardest to avoid eye contact with you.

“I was asking because, uh—you’re probably unfamiliar with our rental policy!” Robins snaps her fingers. “Yea, yea that was it. It’s um, 3 days.”

Disappointment hits you like a freight train, knocking all the wind out of your lungs. You’re not exactly sure what you wanted Robin to say, she barely knows you, and you barely know her, but the discontent you’re feeling is kind of surreal.

“Ah.” You say, trying very hard to mask the despondency in your voice. “Yea, I’ll be sure to remember.”

Robin doesn’t notice, at least you think, and maybe that’s a good thing. The welcoming bell chimes again as actual customers rush into the store, and you take that as que to leave before you make a fool of yourself.

“Well, I better get going.” You stuff the tape in your bag and take a deep breath. “Thanks again, Robin. I’ll see you around?”

“Y—yea. For sure.” Robin chews on her lip. “Have a good day.”

You give her a small smile and a half hearted wave before turning on your heels. You feel eyes burning a hole on your back as you leave the store, or maybe you’re just imagining it.

You look back over your shoulder, just as Robin seems to look away and take a sip of her coffee.

You drive straight back home.

You greet your mom, who’s still taking things out of boxes. Even though you weren’t gone for that long, you feel guilty for leaving her alone to deal with the moving mess. She’s surprised to see you back already. You insist that she take a break, and she fortunately relents after some convincing. You both sit on the singular couch in your living room, and you tell her about your brief adventure. You mention the places you found, (and places you didn’t find), how you scored a free movie, Steve, and Robin, but you end up talking about Robin more than anything else.

“Do they go to Hawkins High?” Your mom asks, elated that you met some people your age.

“I actually don’t know, maybe?”

You chat with your mom about anything and everything for a few minutes. It’s probably the most talkative you've been since you arrived at Hawkins and your mom is delighted to hear your voice sound happier than it has been for a while. She gives you the “I told you so” mom look, and you playfully swat at her arm, feeling a tad embarrassed, but having your mom laugh and smile with you completely unabashed makes your heart burst with familial love.

You clutch at your bag that's still wrapped around your front, and you feel the familiar shape of a VHS inside.

“Hey mom, feel like taking a longer break?”

You pull out European Vacation and wiggle it in your hand. Your mom sighs, but nods her head and grins ear to ear, knowing you both desperately need this reprieve, and spending quality time with each other wouldn’t hurt either. You’re grateful that one of the first things you and your mom did on move in day was set up the TV and VCR system, because god forbid your mom misses any episodes of General Hospital or All My Children. You hop off the couch and shove the tape inside, pressing the play button excitedly. Your mom pats the cushion next to her and you plop yourself back down, getting comfortable.

It doesn’t take long for your mind to start wandering during the movie. You’re enjoying it, and hearing your mom laugh so joyously and unrestrained when you haven't heard her sound like that in years almost makes you want to shed a tear, but you can’t help but think about Robin. Your stomach flutters every time her freckled face flashes through your mind. You find yourself smiling like an idiot, and it’s not because of the movie. Sure, you’ve only known her for a whopping 30 whole minutes, but it’s been a while since you were hit with a crush this hard so fast and you’re not quite sure how to handle it.

This isn’t New York. This place is completely different. You need to be careful.

You briefly glance at your mom, her attention fully glued to the TV screen and oblivious of your inner turmoil. You sigh softly. New York wasn't exactly the pinnacle of acceptance, but it’s without a doubt better than most places, and compared to a small town like Hawkins, it might as well be a sanctuary. You mentally scrub your mind, not wanting to overthink something as insignificant as a crush. Still, you have this inkling feeling that Robin might be, well, like you, or she could just be an extremely nervous person and it’s better not to deep dive and over analyze some of her reactions. Her nervous laughter, her blushed cheeks, the way she would spin that damn lovely ring on her finger over and over again–

“Honey, did you hear me?” Your mom’s soft voice makes you jump.

“What? S–sorry mom, what did you say?”

“I asked if you wanted some lunch after the movie is over.”

Oh yea, the movie. You refocus your eyes on the television and remember that you’re suppose to be watching. You only feel slightly bad that you’re not really paying attention, but you’re not going to let your mom know that.

“Yes please.” You smile and readjust your position on the couch to be more attentive.

You are already in so deep, there was no point in trying to snuff it out. A few days into your new life and your heart is already going to get you into trouble. It’s infuriating how badly you want to get to know Robin more. Can you be hung up on someone you just met? It doesn’t seem right, or maybe it’s perfectly right? You wonder if Robin is thinking the same things right now No, no, definitely not. There is one thing you know for sure…

It’s going to be an interesting week.

#robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley fanfiction #robin buckley fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction

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you-can-be-what-you-want-to-be · 10 months

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thinking about the faroe situation again and like. Imagine something with me.

you are a babysitter five days a week. Part of your job is giving a bath. You usually do this at seven thirty and the parent usually get back at nine. You’ve had time planned off for months however, maybe just a movie, maybe a doctors appointment, but something you asked for ahead of time and asked they come home early so you can be there at eight.

they get in a little after you start the bath, the entire bottom of the bath isn’t even wet yet. You hear them get in, go out and great them. “Oh, how was the date, fine fine thank you for letting me off early today. I started her bath, waters still running so you’ll need to check on her, ok? Great thank you so much have a great night.”

and then you leave, because your job is over and you shared all the information needed and they’re her parents who love her more than anything and you’ve been waiting months for this night off. They said they had it handled.

you find out when you come to work the next day they never checked on her and fell asleep watching Netflix, and now she’s dead. This happened say, 15-20 minutes after you left.

now, what could’ve you done to avoid this? You had no way to know the parents would slack off, no reason to question or do any of the following, but you think about what you might’ve done if they seemed a bit distracted:

1: “Thanks for watching her! Heres your money have a great night!” “actually I’m going to stay here until I see you go into the bathroom.”

“excuse me? Are you doubting my parenting? I already told you it’s fine. Didn’t you have an appointment? Go.”

2: “I am physically taking you to the bathroom”

this might end in firing.

3: “I’m actually going to miss my appointment and finish her bath real quick.”

“no it’s fine we got this.”

4: maybe you should’ve never put her in the bath

“she’s in bed”

“yeah? Did she brush her teeth? Get her bath?”

“no I didn’t want to leave in the middle.”

“so now we have to wake her up and do your job for you because you don’t trust us to parent. I get that you had an appointment but I’m really displeased with you, it’s part of your job and why we pay you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ll let it slide this time but you need to do your job.”

like. She told him. She was off the clock. She said months ahead of time she wanted the night off. She didn’t leave her in a full tub, it was still running. Her employer and parent of the kid dismissed her and told her to go. What else was she supposed to do. Was she supposed to psychiclly know he was going to be in the zone? Cancel her night off? Not do her job? How was she supposed to know he wasn’t going to do the thing he said he would when she left the kid? If it’s a “she should’ve know Arthur would be in the zone” 1 is it her job to take care of or pay any attention to Arthur? No. 2 Arthur should also know he’d get distracted and already knew she was leaving early that night. Maybe just don’t start the piano if you know that.

literally her crime was starting a job off for someone else, who again, SAID THEY WERE ON IT TO FINISH IT, and then leaving on her scheduled time off. Like. Come on. Is she actually at fault or are you uncomfortable with Blorbo being right about taking blame for something because he’s so sad and the main character? or maybe she should’ve been expected to do better because she’s a woman taking care of a kid? Like what.

#malevolent #discourse

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avengersfantasies · 6 months

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Series Summary: When you were little, your life was changed forever. Your parents were brutally murdered before you, and the doctors said it was a miracle that you survived. Now, almost 22 years later, you come across the man who took everything from you.

Chapter Summary: A night of heavy drinking leads to a drunken choice.

What to expect: heavy alcohol use, smut(ish), ptsd, angst

taglist: @felicitylemon @lostinth3echo

Series masterlist: Here

The tense silence filled your small apartment living room as Bucky held the Purple Heart Medal in his hand, holding it carefully as if it would break if he were to mishandle it. Knowing that you had just told him a large part of your history, you chugged the rest of your glass of whiskey and got up to pour yourself another.

“I’m so…,” Bucky started with a soft voice, “I-I’m so sorry.”

You stood at the counter in your kitchen, looking at him through the pass-through that faced your living room, drinking your glass. How were you supposed to respond? You couldn’t say, “It’s okay,” because you knew it wasn’t. You couldn’t say, “Thank you,” because why should he feel sorry for you? You caused this, after all. Your choices that day changed the lives of multiple families. The last thing that someone should feel towards you is sorrow or pity.

Instead of replying, you downed the glass of whiskey you had just poured before going to pour another. It was at that point that you realized you had run out.

“Shit,” you cursed to yourself, sighing and gathering your coat and wallet. Bucky watched you curiously, cautiously following you out of the apartment. You didn’t acknowledge him as you walked to the small liquor store on the corner of the street.

Bucky recognized the signs of someone with an addiction, and knowing he was in no position to help you, even if he could, dug a deeper pit in his stomach. For all he knew, he was one of the reasons why you had turned to the depressant. He stood by quietly, letting you make your purchase of four bottles of Jack Daniels, two one-liter bottles of Fireball, a twenty-four pack of Bud Light, three handles of Absolut Vodka, and six packs of rolling papers. Altogether, the total for your little spree came out to be $253.11, and you paid it as if it were nothing to you. Gathering your purchase, you finally spoke to Bucky.

“If you’re gonna follow me around, you can at least help me carry something.”

He reached out his gloved left hand and grabbed two of the bags, making sure to carry them carefully so as not to break them. You, on the other hand, carried the twenty-four pack and the other three bags.

“This is a lot of alcohol,” he pointed out as the two of you walked back down the street. He recognized your strength, becoming curious as to how you were able to carry such weight without straining or becoming tired. “Sure you don’t need me to carry anything else?”

“I go it,” you replied flatly. “Didn’t need you to carry those ones. Just thought I’d give you something to do.”

Bucky nodded, following you up to your apartment, setting the bags on the floor and watching while you poured two glasses of Jack.

“Thank you,” he said quietly when you handed him one of the glasses, going back over to the couch to sit with you.

The next few minutes were tense as silence filled the air surrounding you both. Unable to stand it anymore, you turned on the TV and started a random show. Bucky exhaled and sipped his drink while the two of you watched it silently. Bucky didn’t know what to say, so he sat there silently, looking down toward the floor at the glass that rested in between his hands. While you rarely showed your emotions, you could easily read others like open books.

“I don’t blame you,” you told Bucky. “For that night…I don’t blame you for it.…not anymore, at least. Once I found out everything, it shocked me, but it helped me direct that anger to the right place.”

His blue eyes looked up and scanned your features, looking for any sign of fear.

“But I did it.”

You shook your head. “But why?” you begged. “Why were they targeted anyway? What reason did HYDRA have to even know them?”

Bucky opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to come up with some sort of explanation. “I…don’t know,” he finally said softly, traces of regret in his voice. “I was programmed to follow orders, not question them.”

You nodded, staring off past him as you were lost in thought. “You wanna help me heal, right?” you questioned him.

“More than anything,” he confirmed.

“Then help me figure out why HYDRA wanted us dead.”

He nodded and gave you a small, tight-lipped smile. “I can do that.”

A couple of hours passed as you and Bucky sat on your couch, drinking away the alcohol you had purchased and watching movies on Netflix, when finally, something occurred to him.

“How are you not drunk?” he questioned curiously. “I mean, we’ve almost finished two bottles of Jack.”

You shrugged. “It’s weird…since I got back, my tolerance has gone way up.” He looked at you skeptically. “I’m not complaining, though,” you continued, “I love the taste of it more than anything…I am starting to get a bit tipsy.”

Bucky chuckled. “It’s been a while since I’ve gotten drunk drunk,” he told you. “Takes a ridiculous amount for me to get drunk. Gets expensive after a while.”

“Well, what do ya say we get drunk then?” you asked, chugging down a bit of the bottle you were drinking from before getting up and grabbing the rest of the alcohol and bringing it over to the coffee table.

The sergeant raised an eyebrow and sipped from his own glass. “Is that really a good idea?”

You finished off the last little bit of Jack Daniels before grabbing two beers and throwing one over to Bucky. “Probably not.”

He smirked and held his beer up to yours. “Cheers.”

It was creeping up on three in the morning, and you and Bucky had collectively finished off three bottles of Jack Daniels, six beers each, a handle of vodka, and had taken ten shots of Fireball each. He had his head thrown over the back of the couch, and his eyes closed, letting the feeling of drunkenness take over him for the first time in what seemed like a century. You, on the other hand, allowed the feeling to engulf you. Here you were, having an admittedly fun night with a handsome man by your side. There was plenty of alcohol to go, and there was one thing on your mind. Giving into your urges and not considering the repercussions, you slowly climbed into the soldier’s lap, causing his eyes to open and his head to shoot up.

“What’re you doin’?” he asked quickly, his eyes wide.

“What’s it look like?” you chuckled, the smell of alcohol strong on your breath as you kissed his chiseled and scruffy jaw.

“You’re drunk,” he reminded you, trying to hold you away from him.

“Oh, come on!” you pouted. “So are you.”

He looked down, bit his bottom lip, and shook his head. “As much as I want to…we shouldn’t.”

“Says who? I’m not even that drunk.”

His eyes were filled with regret. “I’ve hurt you enough,” he whispered. “The last thing I wanna do is take advantage of you.”

“You didn’t do anything!” you begged him to understand. “And how would you be taking advantage of me? I want this.” He didn’t respond; rather, he closed his eyes and tried to ignore your actions, but you were making it more difficult with each second. “Come on, Sarge,” you began rubbing your hands over his shoulders, nipping at the skin underneath his ear, and feeling him tense underneath you. “I can feel you, ya know.” You ground your hips against him, his erection giving him away.

“Godammit,” he hissed, exhaling deeply.

Finally, you looked into his blue eyes, your lips mere centimeters from his. “If you really don’t want to, then push me off your lap.”

“Didn’t say I didn’t want to…believe me, I do,” he argued softly, the smell of the alcohol on his breath permeating your senses. “I said we shouldn’t.”

“We both deserve to feel good…feel wanted,” you insisted, kissing his jaw again. Hesitantly, his hands made their way to your hips, and his lips ghosted just above the skin on the side of your neck. You let out soft moans at how his breath touched your skin, and his hands gripped your hips. “Please…” you whispered, “give me something good to dream about.”

Bucky’s breathing and heart rate skyrocketed, the urge becoming more difficult to resist.

“You’re in charge,” he told you, his voice deep and gruff as his resolve finally broke and his lips finally touched your neck. “You say the word…and we’ll stop.” His hands gripped your hips tighter.

“Deal,” you agreed.

Suddenly, his hands gripped either side of your face, his lips collided with yours, and your tongues began exploring one another as your fingers tangled into his hair. His lips were soft, a complete contrast to the deep and harsh way he was kissing you. The soldier was devouring you, teeth clashing together as moans were swallowed up by each other. One of his hands wrapped around your lower back, holding you tightly and pressing you into his body as you continued to grind on his lap.

“You feel so big,” you moaned into his mouth, causing him to pick you up and carry you to your bedroom, your legs wrapped around his waist.

He chuckled deeply and lay you down. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Eagerly, you undressed each other until you were both only left in your underwear. Your eyes closed as his mouth began to trail kisses up your body, beginning at your feet. His vibranium hand wrapped around your leg, and suddenly, your eyes shot open, and breathing became almost impossible as you were reminded of the feeling of the cold appendage gripping your skin.

“Stop!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, kicking him as hard as you could. Your foot connected with his face, causing a bone to break in his nose and his upper lip to be busted. “Get away from me!”

Bucky backed away from you, holding his hands up to show that he meant no harm.

He watched in pain as you shook and cried, the fear of that night coming over you once more. “Get away, get away, get away!” you continued to scream and plead, curling up in the fetal position against your headboard. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Bucky spoke softly, staying in his spot across the room. It killed him to see you in this amount of fear and agony. Even though he knew his nose was broken and his mouth was bleeding, he didn’t care at the moment. Your sobs hurt more than a broken bone ever could. “It’s okay,” he continued to soothe you. “I will never hurt you ever again,” slowly, he made his way closer to the bed, going for his clothes that had been discarded on the floor. “I’m going to go, okay? I’m going to get my clothes, and I’m going to go.”

Finally, you looked up at him, remembering where you were and what had been going on.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered faintly, choking up again. “Oh my god…I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he spoke calmly and softly as he picked up his clothes from the floor. “I’m going to go, okay?”

The idea of him leaving broke your heart, causing the tears to gather again.

“Please don’t.”

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