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drabblesandimagines · 4 months

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Dove (part six)

Leon Kennedy x female reader - the slowest, slow burn I swear Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Part five.

After the two of you had finished dinner, you’d began clicking through the channels in search of something to watch. It was far too early to go to bed, or even pretend to go to it - you’d just be staring at the ceiling, alone with your thoughts. Leon had insisted on taking the dishes to the kitchen despite your offer to help, said he’d leave them in the sink to soak. You know that’s a task you’re not going to be able to handle until your arm is free of the sling, fingers unsplintered. You want to say you’ll do all the cooking and cleaning when you can, but that implies that you think you’ll still be in the safe house, with him, in however long it’ll take to be free of the sling...

By all intents and purposes, Leon had planned to wait until you’d gone to bed to pull together his report, but the fact that Hunnigan hadn’t replied to his text yet was giving him an unsettled feeling in his gut. Maybe she was doing it on purpose, tit for tat - no information for him until he gave information to her.

After setting the dishes and pan in soapy water to return to later, he’d come back to the sofa and picked the laptop up off the coffee table, almost reluctantly.

“Er, I’m gonna start my report now, if that’s all right?”

You look at him, noting the laptop now tucked under his arm. The report, of course – he hadn’t typed it up yet, couldn’t have, not when you’d sobbed and then napped all over him.

It’s like emotional whiplash - the soft, almost domestic moments where you could pretend this whole situation was normal - it’s dinner and a movie with a friend, first date vibes but both of you too cautious to make a move.

And then there’s the startling reminder that, no, actually, you’re not even home, in a one-bedroom bungalow, no idea where you are in the state, or what state, with a man, a bodyguard you hardly know, after very nearly being murdered the day before and could possibly be murdered in the days to come.

You must’ve stared too long in response as he raises his arm to rub the back of his head – you wonder if it’s a nervous habit.

“It’s nothing to worry about, Dove. The report’s just a formality after the interview earlier, and it’s better that I submit today. It’s fine if you’d prefer not to be in the room, though. If you’re not comfortable, I can wait until you’ve gone to bed.”

“Oh… No, go ahead.”

“Are you sure? I’ll be listening over the audio again but I’ll use headphones, so…”

“Yeah. It’s fine – needs to be done, as you said.” You smile, turning your head back to the TV to end the conversation.

Leon had sat on the other couch, laptop resting on his knees, plugged in a pair of in-ear headphones. For over an hour, you’d heard him tap away at the keys, brows furrowed in concentration when you’d chance a look his way. The last few times his eyes haven’t been on the laptop screen but that of the TV, watching the dumb romance movie you’d settled on during your channel searching, hoping it would prove a good distraction.

“Leon…” You feel rude for interrupting his work, but he’d tugged out an earbud, hasn’t typed anything in a good while now, definitely not since the last ad break.

Not that you were keeping track.

“Mm?” He hums in response.

“Can I…?” He looks over as you clear your throat - start over. “Can I ask you something? If you’ve got a minute.”

There it is - the encouraging smile. “Of course, Dove.”

“It’s going to sound stupid, but those things – were they BOWs?”

“The Lickers?” The smile drops as he tugs out the other earbud. “Yeah, they are.”

“Lickers?” It sounds too cutesy for what they are, like a lollipop brand for kids and not indescribable monstrosities.

“There’s probably some scientific name that Umbrella would use, but that term came from a cop that first saw them in the Raccoon City Police Department. I guess we kinda kept the name as a weird tribute.”

“Right.” Maybe it was the cop’s way of trying to make them less terrifying on first sight.

“Why do you ask?”

“I didn’t think BOWs were actually…” You swallow, though you know it’s not going to dislodge the lump in your throat now. “..things, if that makes sense. Like, I knew we were trying to protect the public from biological warfare threats, but I thought it was man-made diseases, or poisoning the water supply… That sort of stuff.”

“You’re not wrong. Those things were once human, mutated by a man-made virus. I’ve had a fair amount of experience with different iterations of the virus over the years, unfortunately.”

“Mutated…?” You feel sick as the image once again flashes in your mind’s eye, the grotesque features of the Lickers juxtaposed with those of humans, your colleagues… “Fuck.”

“Yeah - fuck.”

“God,” you exhale, but it doesn’t feel enough. “I’ve been so naïve to what I’ve even been doing all these years - I didn’t know what we were actually trying to prevent.”

“You sound like you think you’ve been doing something wrong.”

“Well, maybe I have.” You protest. “What if I missed something that led to that the other day?”

“You did not miss anything.” He says firmly, closing the laptop – you’re not sure if he’s concluded his report or not. “Is that what happened to everyone - they were infected and then they mutated into those… those things?” You can’t bring yourself to say the identifier out loud.

“No, Dove, the… The bodies they recovered matched with the amount of people signed into the premises. Excluding you, obviously.”

“So, someone brought them there and set them on us?”

“Maybe. They’re still working on how they got in the building. They don’t exactly use doors, so…” He laughs, though it’s half-hearted.

The lump feels too big in your throat, tears burn at your eyes as you drop your head down but you know you’re not quick enough.

Leon stands, soft footsteps on the carpet as he circles round the coffee table and sits down a cushion’s width away from you.

“Sorry – it was a bad joke.”

You shake your head, sniffling a little, eyes fixed on your thighs. “No, it’s not that, or you. It’s so stupid, but I wish I could go back and stop it…”

“I know.” He places a hand down on the sofa, swivels his knees in your direction. “But it doesn’t help to think like that – trust me. And I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to keep going.”

“And you’ve faced those things before.”

“More times than I’d like to count.”

“How do you stop them?” You look up then, wiping away the tears from your cheek with the heel of your left hand.

“You couldn’t have done anything differently back there, if that’s what you’re thinking. A couple of gunshots to the head or an explosion is the only thing that’ll stop them.”

“You can’t… you know, turn them back?”

He shakes his head, looking solemn. “Afraid not.”

“Maybe for the best. I don’t think I’d want to be turned back if I’d…” If you’d ripped off your colleague’s head.

“Hey, that is not going to happen to you.” He leans forward, places his hand on your knee - having you fall asleep in his arms earlier has removed all sort of boundaries, it seems. “I promise.”

You shake your head then. “You can’t promise that.”

“I can. I am going to keep you safe.” He pauses – wind it in a little, Kennedy. “And if it makes you feel better, you won’t be the first. Want my credentials? I rescued the President’s daughter from a cult, got her home safe.”

“The President’s daughter?” You hadn’t heard about that, but then again why would you? Probably wouldn’t want it announced to the world that the leader of the free world’s daughter had been abducted.

“Mm. She had a codename and all – Baby Eagle.”

“But you would know her name.”

“Yeah, but still used codenames on official comms.”

“So, what would happen if I told you my name?”

“Er, well, I’d…” There’s the arm raise, rubbing the back of his neck again. “I’d have to report in to HQ that your identity had been compromised, I’d be redeployed elsewhere and you’d get a new security detail.”

“Why?”

“Part of your protection is that I’m not a risk of revealing your identity if hostile forces used… certain methods of interrogation if we were to be captured.”

Your stomach twists at the code. “Torture?”

“I suppose.” He shrugs, like he’s going to collect your mail or water your plants when you’re on vacation as a favour.

“No, you can’t… How can you shrug at the prospect of being tortured for me? You don’t even know me.”

Leon wants to say he does know you, not completely but there’s things he’s picked up over the course of the day that he feels reasonably confident on. You don’t do good with sitting idle, has the feeling you keep yourself busy when you’re not locked in four walls. He got the feeling you’re thorough and proud of your work, or you were before this doubt crept in.

You like coffee with a splash of creamer, honey in your oatmeal. You don’t have any close friends or family nearby that will be wondering why you’ve gone AWOL just yet… ..and you’re definitely single, because if you had someone waiting at home you would’ve mentioned it they spoke about whisking you away to a safe house, or when Hunnigan said she was going to search your place.

He smiles. “I know you don’t deserve any of what’s happened to you over the last 24 hours, and that’s reason enough.”

“How can you be so sure I don’t?”

“Experience, Dove. Been in this line of work for a long time and, more importantly, I’ve been where you’ve been, okay?”

“Okay.” You nod, relenting. “Sorry, my head’s just…”

He squeezes your knee. “I know.”

You leave the bathroom later that evening – Leon had ducked in at some point and prepared your toothbrush again – and find him leaned over the sink, scrubbing at a pan and a cloth draped over his shoulder. He’s left out the medicine – two painkillers, two sleeping pills - on the counter, next to a glass of water. It feels oddly domesticated again for what all of this is.

You walk over to the counter, slowly, as he continues washing the dishes.

“I forgot to ask earlier. Have there been any updates?”

He turns, gives you a sympathetic smile. “Not yet. But it’s only the first full day of the investigation, so I’m sure I’ll hear something soon, especially since I’ve sent the report over.”

He’d sent it whilst you were in the bathroom, half-expected Hunnigan to ring right there and then but his cell had remained silent, so he’d moved his attention to the dishes.

“Yeah, suppose other things will take precedence too.” Other things meaning families to inform… What would they tell them?

You take a swig of water before picking up the pills, swallowing them all down in one. Knowing how quick the sleeping aids helped yesterday, you’re aware there’s only a limited time before you’ll feel the effects kick in.

“Well, goodnight, Leon.”

“Wait a sec.” He pulls the cloth off his shoulders and hurriedly dries his hands as you watch on, curiously. He fiddles with the watch around his wrist, pressing a button on the side, then undoing the strap before he holds it out to you. “Here, so you can tell the time. I know there’s no clock in there, so…”

You stare at the offering, not raising your hand to take it. “But what about you?”

“Got my cell.” He pats his pocket, then holds the watch out again. “It’s yours, if you want it.”

You step forward to take it, gripping it a little too tightly in your fingers. It must be your imagination because it feels warm, but that can’t be right.

“Sleep well, Dove.”

Without another thought, you lean up on your tip-toes and press a kiss on his stubbled cheek.

“Thank you.”

You swivel on your heels and walk into the bedroom, closing the door without looking back, missing out on the sight of a flustered DSO agent in the kitchen.

If it wasn’t for the sleeping pills now coursing their way through your system, you would’ve been up for hours longer, heart pounding at what you just did. Instead, you climb into bed, close your eyes and it isn’t long at all until sleep washes over you, his watch still clasped in your hand.

Leon’s phone finally vibrates with Hunnigan’s caller ID as he enters back into the living area after finishing his perimeter check. Had to do two rounds of the building because he knew he was too distracted on the first by your kiss, admonishing himself for being so put out of joint by a simple gesture. After his second, more thorough check of the area and confident there was still no sign of any unwanted guests, he’d headed back into the building, making sure everything was locked up before he answered the call – placing the phone up to his ear on the opposite cheek that you had kissed.

“Hunnigan!” He answers, a little too jovial, would lower if his voice if he wasn’t confident you’ll be fast asleep by the amount of time that’s passed since you took your medication. “I was getting worried you’d forgotten all about me.”

“I’m sure.” Her voice is a little tense, but he can tell she’s tired. “Just finished your report.”

“And?”

“Well, it’s not exactly airtight.”

He rubs the bridge of his nose, holding in a sigh. “What happened to innocent before proven guilty?”

“That’s why I’ve put Dove in a safehouse with you, rather than in a cell.”

“So, restrictions remain?”

“Restrictions remain.”

He rolls his eyes, grateful it’s not a video call. “Did you search her place?”

“Unfortunately not. The President wanted the surveillance department back up and running ASAP, so all available manpower had been diverted to that. The tech analyst, however, has confirmed that the breach on the database yesterday wasn’t what you’d call successful.”

Leon walks around the sofa, drops on it a little too heavy. “You don’t sound particularly thrilled by that.”

“I’m not - the attempt itself was successful, but as soon as the system detected the forced entry, it wiped itself. Every subject that was still under surveillance has been lost.”

“Maybe that’s what they were trying to achieve.” He frowns. “Is there seriously no back-up server?”

“Analyst seemed to think it was their protocol, but it’s just a theory. Everyone who knew exactly how that division had their server set up is no longer with us.”

There’s a pause and he can hear Hunnigan tapping away at her keyboard as usual. “There is something I need to inform you of, though.”

“Right.”

“The tech analyst found the CCTV feeds have been tapped. They couldn’t trace where the feed was being diverted to, but it was definitely a system not within the DSO infrastructure. It’d been active since the attack, but they cut the connection when they discovered it.”

Leon frowns. “So, you’re saying that whoever orchestrated the attack could’ve been watching the cameras since.”

“Mm.”

“And if their objective was to leave no survivors…” Leon’s eyes focus on your bedroom door.

Hunnigan stops typing. “They’ll know they’ve failed.”

Part seven.

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

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skzstannie · 4 months

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"I'll take care of you"

SKZ-> Felix x Reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, stranger to lovers wc: ~3,100 cw: Abusive/toxic boyfriend, yelling, violence, Felix is literally the biggest sweetheart

summary: you'd never expect the coffee shop down the street to be your saving grace, but a certain sunshine had other ideas

A/N: Hellooooo! I reached 200 followers today, so THANK U AGAIN! Should I do something special for it?

Part 2 is now posted!

Happy Scrolling! | Masterlist

"Baby, please," you sob, your cheek throbbing in pain.

"Don't 'baby' me, you know this is what happens when you don't do your chores." His smirk is villainous as he stands over you. "Don't be a bitch! Get up and go do what you were supposed to do," he seethes, making you flinch.

You slowly get up off the floor, brushing yourself off as you stand. You feel his eyes on you as you scramble into the kitchen.

You forgot to do the dishes again. You should've known better than to forget; you know he gets like this every time. You don't necessarily blame him, though. He does so much for you, and you can't even remember to do a simple household chore.

You scrub the plates clean, the hot water burning against your skin. His footsteps echo into the room, coming closer to you.

His hands wrap gently around your waist, holding you close. "You know I don't like to hit you, baby. Why can't you just listen?"

"I'm sorry. I'll be better for you," you tell him as you lean back into his touch.

"I know you will be."

~ ~ ~

"One medium Iced Americano!"

You stand from your seat in the coffee shop, making your way towards the counter to grab your drink.

The cafe is crowded, the queue at least 10 deep. You squeeze past people, muttering the occasional "Excuse me" as you pass.

You're disappointed when you get to the counter, seeing your drink nowhere to be found.

"Excuse me," you call out to the barista behind the counter, "What happened to my drink? The Iced Americano?"

"Oh, some guy just took it. It was yours?" she asks distractedly, another cup already in her hand as she pours coffee into it.

"Yea..." you trail off, your eyes scanning the shop for the drink-stealer.

"I'm sorry about that, I'll whip you up another one. What size would you like?"

"Medium, please." The barista nods her head and gets to work. "Thank you so much."

You sit down at a table near the counter to wait. Your mind starts to wander, thinking about all the work you have to catch up on this week. You're an editor for the local newspaper, and your boss decided to dump a bunch of stories on you last minute. While they weren't set to be published for another few weeks, you were incredibly meticulous with your work, so it usually took you longer than necessary to get through them.

You're brought of your thoughts by a boy walking up to your table. "I'm sorry, but I think I accidentally took your drink. My friend ordered a large iced Americano, and I think this is the medium." His cute face is twisted in an apologetic expression.

"That's ok, she's making me a new one. No worries," you reassure him, giving him a soft smile.

"Oh good, sorry again." You expect to him to walk off, your original drink in his hand, but he continues to stand in front of you, his eyes never leaving yours. It's a little uncomfortable, and you're about to get up to avoid the awkward tension when he speaks again.

"Mind if I sit? You look like you could use some company."

You hesitate to answer. If your boyfriend found out you let some random man sit with you, he'd freak out.

"I was actually just about to head out. I have to get back to my boyfriend," you answer, deciding that rejecting his offer was for the best.

"Here you go miss, one medium Iced Americano," says the barista. Her arm is stretched over the counter, your drink in hand.

"Thank you so much," you immediately stand, stepping around the man to grab it.

As you go to step away, the man stops you, "My name's Felix by the way. I've seen you around here before." His eyes twinkle from the dingey lights overhead.

"I'm Y/N," your lips morph into a smile at his kindness.

"I'll see ya around?" there's a questioning twinge to his voice, a hint of hope peaking through.

"Sure. See ya around, Felix." With that, you walk towards the exit, heading back home.

~ ~ ~

"What took you so long?" your boyfriend's voice booms through the house as soon as you open the door.

"Someone else took my drink, so I had to wait for them to make me another," you explain, hopeful that you're calm energy will have the same affect on your boyfriend.

"You think that's a good enough excuse?! For all I know you could've been cheating on me! What am I supposed to think when you're gone for so long?!" he yells, his heavy footsteps approach you quickly from the living room.

"Babe, I promise it was nothing like that," you panic, your eyes darting around the foyer for an escape.

"Next time," he's in front of you now, his face red in anger, "tell me if you'll be longer." His rough hand reaches towards your face, roughly grabbing your jaw between his fingers. You wince, sure it'll leave yet another bruise. "Got it?"

"Yes," you mumble, your jaw stinging from his tight grasp.

"Good." He releases your face and wipes his hands on his pants, like he's disgusted by you.

You hurry off to your bedroom, quietly closing the door behind you.

~ ~ ~

It's been a couple weeks since you've been able to stop by the cafe. Your boyfriend's been stricter since the last coffee incident, not letting you leave the house without him.

"Hi Y/N!" your eyes glance above your computer screen, meeting the happy face of the man you met the last time you came here. What was his name again?

"Hi..." you say, hoping he'll fill in the blank.

"Felix!"

"Oh yea," you chuckle, embarrassed by your forgetfulness, "Sorry, it slipped my mind."

"That's ok!" You're heart warms, his bright and happy personality filling the emptiness of the coffee shop. "May I sit?" He gestures to the chair across from you.

You think on it for a moment. You really need to finish this article, but you guess a little break won't hurt. "Sure."

You didn't know it was possible, but his smile turns brighter at your answer. "Thanks!" He pulls the chair out and sits. It's silent between you for a minute, and you go back to typing away on your computer. "What are you working on?"

"I'm an editor for the newspaper, so I'm just finishing up this story," you reply.

"Oooh, that's cool? Do you like being an editor?"

You and Felix hit it off right away. He asks you more about your job, and you love the way he genuinely seems interested in what you have to say.

You ask him a few questions about himself, too, and you find out he's in a band with his friends.

"That's so cool!" You've finished you're article by this point, and you're nearing the end of your coffee, as well.

His eyes light up as he talks about his friends. They sound like an interesting bunch from all the stories he tells you.

"And then," he stops, letting out an adorable giggle, "he fell right on his ass, in front of everyone!" He laughs again and you join in. Something about Felix's aura just makes you feel so comfortable around him, like you've known him forever.

You both quiet down, and you become a little uncomfortable under his intense gaze. His eyes focus on your chin.

"What happened to your chin?" It's obvious he doesn't mean any harm with his question, pure curiosity taking over his features. However, the attention to your bruises makes you severely uncomfortable, and you instinctually look to flee.

"Oh, it was nothing," you think for a second, trying to come up with an excuse, "I'm just clumsy and hit my chin on my nightstand. No biggie," you tell him distractedly as you hurry to pack up your things.

His eyes widen at your panicked movements. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry," he apologizes, standing up as well.

"It's ok, I actually had to go anyway," you lie, swinging your bag over your shoulder. "I'll see you around." You quickly make your way out of the cafe, not even giving him a chance to say goodbye. He stands there with a slight tilt to his head, watching you rush out of the shop.

~ ~ ~

Weeks go by before Felix has the chance to talk to you again. He waits for you on your usual days at the cafe, hoping to see your familiar figure walk through the door, but you never do.

His eyes light up one particular Monday morning as you walk through the door, the little bell dinging, alerting the employees someone came in.

His smile falters a little upon seeing the man holding your hand. You're expression is stiffer than normal, your lips pursed in a tight line, replacing the bright smile you usually wear.

Felix watches as the man orders for both of you. "One medium iced Americano and a small Hazelnut latte," he says.

The man looks nothing like he thought your boyfriend would look. His eyes are cold and emotionless, practically burning holes in the side of the barista's face. Felix doesn't miss the way he rudely tosses the money onto the counter, not even gracious enough to hand it to the cashier.

Felix's gaze shifts down to your hands, your boyfriend's grip looking unnecessarily tight around your small hand. He notices the way your fingers are white from lack of circulation, and his blood boils.

Felix manages to catch your wandering gaze, your cheeks heated in embarrassment from the way your boyfriend was treating the staff.

He gives you a small wave, the corners of his lips upturned.

Your eyes widen at his show of friendliness, and you give him the smallest of head shakes. Your expression conveys, "Please don't say anything to me", and his heart clenches at this. Who does this guy think he is?

As much as Felix wants to go up to you and rip his hand from yours, it's clear you don't want him to acknowledge you right now. He knows it is because of the man next to you, and he begins to wonder if those bruises he saw on your chin weeks before weren't from your clumsiness after all.

~ ~ ~

"You never order anything when you're here. Why is that?"

It's a nice, sunny Monday morning, and you and Felix sit in the corner of the cafe.

"I don't actually like coffee much," he chuckles, his face flushing in embarrassment. You raise your eyebrows at that, waiting for him to continue. "I just like the atmosphere here, and now I come for you, too!"

Now it's your turn to blush, a pink shade creeping up your neck. "For me?"

"Yea, I figured we're friends now, and I like to spend time with you." his voice is deep and charming as he speaks, his eyes soft.

Friends aren't something that have come easy to you. Your boyfriend rarely lets you go places by yourself. Work is the main exception, and after some begging a few months prior, he allows you to come to the coffee shop by yourself, too.

Being friends with Felix sounds nice. It's been months since you first met, and most weeks you both sit at the same table, you working on your articles and him doing various other activities. Sometimes he'll bring a book to read, other times he'll just play on his phone until you're finished working.

The silence sits between the two of you as you think, and Felix worries he's made you uncomfortable. "I mean- we don't have to be, like friends, or anything. I just thought-"

You cut off his rambling, a smile gracing your lips, "I'd love to be friends with you Felix."

His shoulders slump in relief, and he gives you a relaxed smile. "Oh good, I was worried I'd scared you off."

"You're practically the nicest person I've ever met. How could you possible scare me off?" you laugh.

"I know I can come off a little strong sometimes, but I'm just a friendly guy, and I like your company," he explains to you, and you can't help but agree with everything he says.

That first day he talked to you he did seem a little overzealous. Now, after hanging out with him numerous times, you know that's just him, and you're ok with that. You love how Felix is able to bring a little sunshine into your life, even if it's only for a few hours every week.

"Well, don't worry about it. I wanna be your friend, too, and I like hanging out with you just as much," you assure him.

"Perfect! As my first duty of being your official friend, I have to ask you to stop lying to me," his voice goes serious, the light in his eyes dimming.

Your breath falters a little at this. "What do you mean?" you try to play it off, taking a swift drink of your coffee. You know he's not stupid; anyone with eyes can see the various bumps and bruises that litter your body.

"All these bruises... nobody's that clumsy, Y/N."

The familiar urge to escape fills your body, and panic bubbles in your throat.

"Felix," you choke out, your gaze lingering on your hands nervously rubbing against your pants. Tears gather in your eyes.

No one has ever confronted you about this. You pushed your family away long ago; it was upon your boyfriend's request, but who were you to tell him no? You've not been close with someone since then. You had friends before, but after so many unanswered texts, they just stopped texting. Stopped calling. Now their contacts sit in your phone as constant reminders of what used to be.

Felix's heart softens as your eyes well with tears, but he stands his ground. If he was going to be your friend, he couldn't let this slide any longer. "No more lies."

"Felix, I can't," the anxiety becomes too much, and you're quick to run out of the cafe, leaving your bag and coffee sitting on the table.

Felix quickly gathers your things and follows you out, earning a few curious glances from the people standing in line.

His eyes find your form, speed-walking down the sidewalk in the normal direction you leave in. "Y/N, please wait!" he calls after you, jogging to catch up.

He only has to run for a few seconds, catching up to you quickly. He reaches out to grab your elbow, and he immediately recoils upon seeing the way you flinch at his touch.

You stop walking, knowing there's no point in running anymore. Your head hangs low, your gaze permanently set on the ground in front of you. You allow Felix to guide you towards a secluded bench, sitting on the side of one of the buildings.

Felix's body immediately kicks into comfort mode upon seeing the tears flowing down your face. He softly sets his arm around your shoulders. You don't flinch, so he takes that as his sign to wrap you up into a hug, pulling you further into his body.

You continue to cry into his shoulder, not sure how else to deal with the emotions that overwhelm you.

"Y/N," he whispers as he rubs your back, "Can you look at me for a second?"

You raise your head from his shoulder, your eyes glossy with unshed tears.

"Please let me help you," he begs, his arms firm around your body.

"Felix, I can't," your sobs return, your arms leaving Felix to cover your face.

"Y/N, you've let him control you long enough."

Your lips wobble, and you don't know what to say. You've dated your boyfriend for years; he's all you know, all you have.

You've listened to his verbal abuse for so long, his words constantly swimming in your head:

"No one else will love you like I do."

"Nobody cares about you."

"Your family and friends left you, but not me. You can trust me."

His physical abuse marks your body. Old scars litter your arms and legs, bruises coloring your jaw and neck. You're always aching, different parts of your body always healing. You know your body needs a break.

"I know you probably feel stuck, like you have no one to go to," Felix continues, hoping that there's room in your cluttered mind for his words to get through to you, "But I'm here now. I'll help you. I won't let him touch you anymore."

Your mind is full of every emotion imaginable.

You know you can trust Felix. The problem isn't whether or not you can trust Felix. After all these months, he's proven to be one of the greatest people you've ever met. He's kind, loving, caring; everything you're boyfriend is not.

No, the problem isn't whether you can trust Felix; he's one of the most trustworthy people you've ever met. You just don't know how.

"Please, Y/N, I can't sit by and continue to watch you walk into the cafe with new bruises every week. I'll help you get out of this mess; you don't have to stay with him anymore."

Felix's pleas swirl around in your mind. The kindness he emits mixes with the words of your boyfriend like oil and water. If Felix was ice, your boyfriend would be fire; the two polar opposites in every way.

"That boyfriend of yours is no good for you," you remember your mom telling you. It was one of the last conversations you had with her before he made you cut all contact with her.

Maybe she was right. Maybe it is time for a change. Felix has always made you feel safe, like you could tell him anything. He could help you.

"It's your call, don't let him think he has power of you. All you have to do is tell me, and it'll be taken care of. I'll take care of you, Y/N."

You sit in silence for a few moments, nothing but the sounds of your sniffles filling the air.

The cold wind whips past your clouded head, bringing you back to reality. You finally gain the courage to look up at him, and his eyes have never looked softer.

"Please help me, Felix," you sob, your hands going to grip his hoodie as you lay your head against his chest. Your ear presses against his heart, the gentle beat soothing you better than words ever could.

"Oh, sweet girl," he whispers, running his hand through your hair. He's holding you so tight now, like he never wants to let you go. "You'll never have to see him again. I've got you now, nobody will hurt you anymore."

Part 2

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letstalkaboutfandomsbaby · 9 months

Note

I just found your account, and I love your writing especially the ones with Geto!! (I love that man!!)I do apologize for asking but do think you would ever write more of chubby reader Geto? Especially the one where chubby darling is trying to make herself useful in his temple? I love that one especially!

I actually wanted to write a fic for that prompt for a LONG time but i never found the strength to finish it, so allow me to expand upon chubby reader who works in Geto's temple 💕

CW: chubby fem reader, non-sorcerer reader, Geto refers to reader as a "monkey" once, allusion to suicide, bullying, the twins are around 10-12 yrs old, smut (mostly implied)

───────────────

Let's start by saying that you're nothing special. You are not the type of girl that Geto would see himself with. It would take a miracle for him to fall for someone like you.

And yet, miracles happen every day, don't they?

Your family has acquired some debt. They have been paying Geto to exorcise curses for them, and he has always delivered, but they have run low on funds and there's still a nasty curse to take care of. They beg and plead with him to remove it, but he refuses to lift a finger until they bring him a hefty donation again.

That's where you come in.

You can't see or sense curses, but you've felt their effects, dealing with the repurcussions of your family's awful attitude. This latest curse is the worst of them all, feeding off of every negative thing your family spews, weighing you down with their toxic energy. You'd do anything to get rid of it, to finally know peace again.

So you offer a trade. You promise to provide your services to the sorceror if he exorcises this curse for you and your family.

Geto ponders this deal for a while. He believes that monkeys are only good for providing curses or money, so he doesn't see the appeal of you at first. But then he remembers that he recently disposed of his maid because the twins disliked her, so he decides to make the deal. He will dispose of the curse if you act as his maid, cooking, cleaning, the works.

You have no other choice, so you accept.

The work itself isn't hard. Dusting, sweeping, mopping, polishing. You cook breakfast and dinner, lunch if requested. You're starting to get callouses from the work, but that's the least of your worries.

The twins hate you. You don't expect them to like a non-sorcerer like you, but they're cruel without reason. They tip over your mop bucket and run off laughing, they leave worms in your bed, they once took scissors to your hair and cut a piece off. They are awful, but you know you can't fight back. You have to take the high road, be the bigger person, endure their hatred so you can get by. If you step out of line, Geto will kill you without hesitation, you know this for a fact. So, you don't fight back. You show no reaction. You pray they get bored of you before you jump off the roof of the temple. At least then you would find peace.

The girls get into a fight one day. Nanako ripped Mimiko's doll as payback and now the both of them are sobbing and yelling at each other. You think it's karma for how they've treated you.

And yet, you take the high road once more.

You separate the girls first, sending Mimi to the kitchen and Nana to the living room. You quietly sew and mend Mimiko's doll, eyes watching you as you did so. Once the doll was fixed, you coaxed Nanako to take the doll to her sister and apologize. Surprisingly, she did so, and the girls hugged. They went on their merry way, not hurling insults at you for once. You go back to your chores.

The girls ask, no, demand lunch a few days later. You comply, making onigiri and cutting fruit into fun shapes, adding a cookie for dessert. The girls coo about the hearts and stars on their plates before digging in. They take their plates to the sink when they're finished and linger for a moment, staring at you. You ask what's wrong, but they scamper off before you can get an answer. You wash the dishes in silence.

Nanako falls and scrapes her knee on a rock. The other workers are shocked still, terrified of what Geto will do now that one of his precious girls has been injured, but you don't fret. You take action, bringing the young girl inside, grabbing a first aid kit, tending to her small wound. You clean it, apply a bandage. She requests a kiss to make it better, so you comply, pressing your lips gently against the bandage. She seems satisfied, getting up and running off with her sister again, throwing back a "thank you" as she does. You're surprised at her gratitude, but you think little of it.

You become a beacon of sorts. The other workers saw how well you handled Nanako's wound, and now they come to you whenever they don't know how to handle the twins. The girls are fighting? You are retrieved to break it up. They want lunch? You're always the one who makes it. They're getting ready for bed? You are now the one who ensures they brush their teeth, tucking them into bed before Geto bids them goodnight. You don't think much of your new role, chalking it up to just being a new part of your job that you have to take care of.

It's not until they call you "Mom" that you look at your role differently.

Mimiko calls you "Mom" first, after she finishes her lunch and puts her plate in the sink.

"Mom, I want a cookie."

You pause, frozen, processing what she said.

"Um... what do you say when you want something?" The young girl rolls her eyes.

"May I please have a cookie?" You smile softly at her compliance.

"Yes, you may." You take down the cookie jar, pulling out two and handing them to Mimiko. "Take one to your sister."

"Okay!" And she's off, leaving you to think about your new label.

Later that night, when you're tucking the girls into bed...

"Goodnight, Mom," Mimiko mumbles from below her sheets. You pause at the door, hand on the handle.

"Night, Mom," Nanako speaks up, hiding her face with her comforter. You swallow, inhaling deep.

"Goodnight, girls. Sleep tight."

You hesitantly close the door, hearing it click softly. You sigh, turning around, running into someone.

It was Geto. He stared down at you silently, eyes boring into you. You quickly bowed, moving out of his way, gaze glued to the floor. He watches you for a moment before grabbing the door handle, pushing the door open. You hear the girls chirp with delight as the door closes. Once it clicks shut, you bolt out of there, not looking back.

You become a maternal figure for the girls, someone they look up to, someone they rely on. You take care of them daily, tending to their every whim, scolding them gently when needed. The girls begin to follow you, insisting that you play with them, that you give them time and attention. Other people start taking on your chores so that you can entertain the twins and keep the peace.

At the same time, Geto starts to notice you more.

He notices how the girls light up when they talk about you, how they ask for you at night to read another chapter in their book, how they cling to you whenever they have a free moment. He thinks it's silly for them to enjoy the presence of a non-sorcerer such as yourself. Of all the people to become attached to, why you? There were plenty of socerer women that wandered these halls, so why did they choose you? What was so special about you?

It bothers him for a bit, but ultimately he's just happy that his girls are happy. He even began to appreciate your presence, your maternal instincts allowing you to care for the twins better than anyone else could. He came to value having you around to give his girls the love and attention they lacked when they were so young.

But there were other perks to having you around. Geto found himself delighted whenever you smiled, silently hoping you could direct that smile towards him. He began speaking with you casually, enjoying the sound of your voice more and more with each conversation. And you were attractive, to say the least, bright and lovely. He savoured being able to see a pretty thing like you so often, your round cheeks, your glittering eyes, your delicate hands, your bountiful hips. His mind began to wander to your body during his little meetings, wondering how soft you were under that cheap, coarse uniform. He imagined how your thighs would squish as you sat or kneeled before him, gazing up at him, willing to take whatever he would give you.

That's when he started fantasizing about you in earnest. He started thinking about you late at night, about your plump frame and how it would feel under his fingers. He thought about your thighs warming the sides of his face, your ass bouncing as he thrust into your, your mouth forming a perfect 'O' as you came over and over again. He thought of all of this as his hand trailed down his body, wrapping around his cock and tugging it, groaning at the sensation. You'd be so much better than his hand, soft and warm and wet. He wanted to feel you, to brace you against him, make you all his. God, what he'd give for just a taste of you.

He does this for a while. He doesn't know how much longer he can go. Maybe he'll make you his personal maid, have you draw him a bath, make you massage his scalp as he soaks. Maybe he'll be forward and tell you exactly what he wants. Maybe he'll force you into his bed; people will do anything if they're threatened properly. Maybe he'll woo you with gifts, perhaps a few dresses, maybe even a kimono, something traditional to match him. He's not sure, there's so many options, he can't decide.

The girls want to go to an aquarium. They want you to come along.

Maybe he could court you properly.

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#ask #smut #geto suguru #chubby reader #fem reader #chubby fem reader #☀️ asks #geto suguru x reader #geto maid au

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zepskies · 9 months

Note

Hello my lovely friend! I would love to see an imagine/head canon of Dean and the reader seeing each other for the first time after he either comes back from hell or purgatory if you’d be up for it 💕 up to you whether it’s an established relationship or mutual pining 😉 thank you! 😘

Hello, my dear!!

Thank you so much for this imagine! I needed a bit of Dean. 😘

Now I went with Purgatory for this one (S8, E01 – “We Need to Talk About Kevin”).

I diverged from canon of Sam not looking for Dean to make sure if he was dead. Not just because I think that choice by the SPN writers wasn’t true to Sam’s character (Even Jared has said this lol), but because I think if Dean had a girlfriend at this point in time, Sam wouldn’t just abandon her to deal with Dean’s loss alone.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Song Inspo: Yes, I had one for this! Weirdly enough, it was the entire “Moneyball” soundtrack. The whole smooth but intense pace of it really drove me on this.

Word Count: 2,200 Warnings: 18+ only for some smuttiness.

Imagine: Reuniting with Dean, not knowing if things will be the same.

You’re doing the dishes when your phone rings.

You check the caller ID, frowning when the number is unfamiliar. But you answer with a thread of wariness while you’re holding a glass.

“Hello?” you answer. For a moment, there’s silence on the line. Your brows knit together in suspicion.

For months, you’ve been living with Sam and Kevin in this dusty cabin in the woods. Literally, in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. It was the only way you and Sam could try to protect the prophet from Crowley.

So the fact that you're getting a call at all is surprising in and of itself.

Your frown deepens. “Whoever this is, you have three seconds before I hang the hell up.”

“Hey…it’s me.”

Your suspicion fades, but shock overtakes you. Your breath stills in your lungs when you hear Dean’s voice. However, your brain can’t compute.

It’s been a year.

“Sweetheart, are you there?” he says.

You finally choke on a gasp, and the glass slides out of your hand and shatters in the sink.

“Hey, you okay?” his gruff concern is so very Dean that it continues to choke you into tears.

“Dean,” you utter. Your mouth trembles as your eyes close, and your tears find their own way down your cheeks. “I…I’ve been…you’re okay?”

“Well, I’m here,” he answers, with some dry humor, but he sounds off. You don’t know what to make of that, but now you’re worried.

You look down at your shaking hand, and you realize that there’s a small piece of glass that ricocheted into your palm. You ignore it, because all you can focus on is your boyfriend’s voice in your ear.

“Where…are you?” you ask. Every trembling, heave of breath brings you closer to a sob.

“Louisiana. Clayton, Louisiana,” he replies. His voice is even, but there’s emotion there too. You hear it, only because you know him so well. “Where are you?”

And how soon can you get here? his tone implies.

After Dean disappeared in the aftershock of Dick Roman’s death, you, Sam, and Kevin had been scouring every lore book on God’s green Earth. Nothing has gotten you closer to finding Dean in the last year.

You hadn’t allowed yourself to fully give up, but in recent weeks, you would never admit that your heart has been starting to falter. So has your body.

Sam watches you closely on the way out of the house, heading to the Impala. You’re grateful for the way he’s been looking out for you, but you also resent it. You don’t need help. You’re fine…mostly.

As strange as it’s been living in this house, it’s become your safety blanket. Your cold shell where you can block off the rest of the world, as if time hasn’t been ticking by all these months outside of it.

But now you’re practically shaking. Call it nerves, lack of sleep, too much caffeine, too much crap food, stress, and grief. You ignore it, taking a firm grip of the passenger door handle and yanking it open. Sam drives.

The hours are excruciating. Your leg bounces restlessly, and Sam notices, but doesn’t comment. He does try to soothe you with your favorite music in the car. He tries to pick up conversation, but you’re not having it.

You’re even being pretty selfish right now. Sam had been without his brother for a year, just as you had been without. And here he is, trying to comfort you.

You can’t help it though.

You’re not okay. You don’t think you’ll ever be okay again until you see him.

Sam eventually pulls into the dingy motel in the middle of rural Louisiana. (And yet, somehow on the corner of a Hustler, one of Dean’s favorite sex shops. Your lips curve slightly.)

Sam’s calling Dean on his cell, but you’re too impatient to wait for the man to come out.

You jerk the car door open, and in your haste, you don’t realize that you’ve slammed the door shut.

“Hey, easy on my Baby.”

You turn with a gasp lodged in your throat, but not even that can escape when Dean comes into view. Complete with red plaid and old jeans and rough stubble that approaches a beard, and a duffel bag.

Dean’s smirk fades into a softer grin when he takes in the familiar curve of your face, the gentle frame of your body, the sight of your tears, welling up in your eyes.

You take in a shuddering breath, and you go to him. Dean drops his bag so that he can properly welcome you where you’re supposed to be.

His arms wrap around your waist, a hand coming up to cup the back of your head. He smells like motel soap and second-hand clothes, but all you care about is that he feels solid and alive and your heart’s just shy of shattering, or knitting back together. It beats a fast flutter in your chest.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he rumbles in your ear. You nod, even though you can’t help the way you’re shaking, crying, clinging to him.

“I’m sorry,” you say. You hate that those are your first words to him, but you can’t help it. That’s what you feel, down to your bones. “We tried so damn hard to find you…”

Dean pauses a bit on that, but he just shakes his head. He meets Sam’s gaze behind you and offers his brother a smile. Sam smiles back; he’s full to the brim at the sight of Dean, but for you, he’s patient. He can wait his turn.

“I know,” Dean tells you, holds you a bit tighter. “I'm all right. It’s not your fault, you understand?”

You draw another shaky breath and lean back far enough to see his face. You raise a hand to touch his cheek. When he stares down into your eyes, you know you’re going to be okay.

And so will he. You’re going to make sure of it.

In lieu of words, Dean leans down and captures whatever you might’ve said then with his lips. The kiss is heat and longing, both sweet and rough. It’s everything you need.

It’s a long drive all the way back to your cabin in the woods. Dean checks on you often while you’re passed out asleep in the backseat. He’s back in the driver’s seat of his car, hands wrapped around the familiar leather steering wheel, but he still doesn’t feel totally…right.

Despite being wrapped around the leather, his right hand feels empty. Like it needs the weight of a weapon. He’s still tense and on edge, even now, and Sam notices.

“What was it like?” he asks, quietly so he doesn’t wake you. He’s glad you’re finally sleeping.

“Purgatory?” Dean scoffs. “Like being deep in God’s freakin’ armpit.”

Sam’s brows knit together, but he waits, seeing if Dean will continue. And he does, after giving Sam a brief glance.

“It was monsters, Sam.” A never-ending twilight. Never a moment to rest. A wide-eyed existence of gnashing teeth and blood and black ooze.

When Sam inevitably asks how he got out of Purgatory, Dean is vague, evasive. Castiel didn’t make it, he admits, also in halting detail. But Dean is more willing to focus on how tired you and Sam both look. How pale your skin is. How it seems like this is the first hour of sleep you’ve gotten all week.

“How’s she been?” Dean asks, once again checking on you through the rearview mirror. Sam inhales deeply, making Dean frown.

“She’s been holding on,” Sam replies. “Strong, for Kevin especially. Poor kid’s too scared to go outside half the time.”

Dean turns to him with a frown.

“You’ve been taking care of her, right?” he asks.

Sam huffs, with a wry smile. “When she let me.”

Dean quirks a bit of a smile. That sounded like you. Stubborn at your best, damn near impossible at your worst. But the latter is what he’s worried about.

He later carries you inside the cabin, acknowledging your sleepy mumbles that you can walk, but not actually heeding your words. Sam tells him which one is your room, and Dean carries you there. By then you’re awake, but resigned to the fact that he isn’t going to let you down.

Your hand smooths up his arm, up the back of his neck and into his hair. It makes a pleasant tingle run up his spine.

“Your hair’s gotten long,” you muse, sorting your fingers through the strands. His hair’s darker too, not quite so dirty blonde, now leaning closer to light brown.

Dean smiles a bit. “If that’s all that’s changed, then I’d say I’m in good shape.”

He lays you down on the bed, and you bring him down with you by grabbing onto the front of his gray undershirt. He sinks down onto the edge of the bed and drifts a hand from your arm, to your face. He refreshes his memory of every angle, the soft feel of your skin. He knows his hands are rougher, but you feel the same.

You draw him into you and it begins.

Kissing him feels like taking a much needed breath. The way he grips your arms when you lick sensuously into his mouth—a sudden squeeze, an iron hold—it ignites your blood and the fire in your lower belly.

Your fingers rake into his hair. His solid grip moves to your hips, and you lie back when he guides you onto the mattress.

The sound of your breaths mingling together become shallow as you shove the plaid off his shoulders and ruck up the shirt. He does the same for your shirt and jeans, followed by his own. All that’s left it his skin against yours and rough hands squeezing fingerprint bruises into your hips and thighs.

You don’t mind at first; the strength of his hold and how much he wants you spurs you on. You’re slick and pulsing with need when Dean eventually slides home inside you. He has a hand tight in your hair, gripping tighter as he begins to move hard and fast.

“Dean,” you pant. You moan on his name, but you’re also trying to get his attention. You wince as his hand tightens, both in your hair, trapped against the pillow, and on your hip. You hold onto his wrist.

“Ease up, baby,” you whisper. You don’t want Sam or Kevin to hear you, even though you’re sure they could guess what you and Dean are up to.

But Dean doesn’t seem to hear you at first. You look up into his eyes, and you’re not sure if he’s entirely seeing you. It’s not like him, and it triggers warning signals in your mind. You have to wrap your legs tightly around his hips, squeezing his wrist even harder to stop him for a moment.

“Dean,” you insist. And he finally sees you.

When you soothe a thumb against his wrist, his eyes widen. He releases his hand from your hair, bracing against the bed instead.

He frees the other hand from your hip, and he sees the shape of his fingers already forming in your skin. He knows his hold was tight enough to bruise down to the bone.

It’s happened before, but not like this. Dean’s never lost control like that. Not with you, even in times like these.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he catches his breath, frowning deeply. His green eyes meet yours, raw and guilty. “I uh…I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You tilt your head at him with a thoughtful frown. You reach up to frame his face with both hands, and you wordlessly tug him down to you. Dean is somewhat reluctant, but he follows your guiding hands and meets your waiting kiss, tender and slow.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats against your lips. His voice is low and coarse, filled with the true depths of his emotions. Everything he's been trying to hide from you.

Your eyes sting with the threat of tears.

“It’s okay,” you reply, through sweeter kisses. “I love you. We're gonna be okay.”

He hesitates. Then, he nods, accepting your words and your warmth.

His hand slowly brushes against your thigh, soothing along your bruising skin. You still have your legs wrapped around his hips, but you lessen your own hold, now that he seems to have come back to himself.

You both realize then that it might not be okay for a while. But that too is all right. Because you’re nothing if not stubborn, and Dean is worth the challenge.

He closes his eyes to breathe and center himself. They blink open at the feeling of your hand, insistent on his shoulder. Your face is both tenderness and determination.

You push against him and twist until he's the one on his back, on the bed, holding your hips, the two of you still joined. He looks up at you still with a measure of reluctance.

"I've got you this time," you tell him, stroking his cheek. His almost-beard prickles against your palm.

After a moment, you can see in his eyes that he believes you.

And you begin again.

AN: Gaaaah, this man. I'm weak every time I write about him. 🥲

I have another Dean imagine coming soon. Some special anon asked for the reverse of "Sam being in love with Dean's girlfriend."

So stay tuned for "Dean gives you an impossible choice." 😉

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean Tag List:

@hobby27 @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesdeanvessel @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @emily-winchester @deans-baby-momma @melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann83 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @tipthejar @ajjustice @thewritersaddictions @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @adoringanakin

@theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @mrshalverson2021 @iprobablyshipit91 @agalliasi @venicesem @waters-2567 @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @beskarfilms @skyesthebomb @deans-spinster-witch @tmb510 @iamsapphine @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @fabimaou @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @syrma-sensei

#ask me stuff #reuniting with Dean #Dean back from Purgatory #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester #sam winchester #angst #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #spn #supernatural #zepskies answers

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humanpurposes · 10 months

Text

Hysteria

(1950s AU) A housewife reaches breaking point and seeks medical advice at her husband's request // Main Masterlist

Aemond x nameless female character

Warnings: 18+, smut, period typical sexism, dub-con,

Words: 5400

A/n: inspired by this ask on @lightningandfireinmybones 's blog, shout out to @b-vvitched for the prompt, I couldn't stop thinking about it :) Also available to read on AO3.

She reads over the gold painted letters on the door to make sure she has the right room.

Dr A. Targaryen

General Practitioner

She brings her hand up to the door, hesitating for a moment before she softly taps her knuckles against the wood, thrice.

She holds her breath, unsure if a moment passes or a minute.

His voice comes soft and distant from the other side. “Enter.”

The room is simply four white walls, a dark wood desk and cabinets and an examination table with black leather upholstery. The harsh afternoon sun and a slight breeze bleed in from the open windows, floating through thin, white curtains. It’s surprisingly serene but still plain and inoffensive.

Dr Targaryen– Aemond as he insists as he shakes her hand– has harsh blue eyes, the left framed by a long scar slicing down his face, a pointed nose, curved lips, a sharp jaw and pale blond hair, stylishly gelled like some movie star. Something about him is unsettling despite the small smile and the impeccable manners as he offers her a seat in the green leather chair on the other side of his desk.

She contracts her hand slightly once he lets go of her. His grip had been rather firm.

He opens a brown leather notebook and flicks through a clipboard on the desk, frowning and tapping a pen against it as he goes over some paperwork and basic information she had given the nurse, as instructed.

She holds her hands together in her lap and winces at how damp her palms are. She’s sure it’s just the weather, and smooths them over her pale blue, rayon skirt. She checks her nails while she’s at it too. She had painted them red the night before, but they are already starting to chip from where she’d started her day with washing the dishes and doing a deep clean of the kitchen.

“You said your husband recommended you seek medical advice, is that right?” he asks, his head tilted down and his eyes meeting hers, expecting a prompt answer, she realises.

She swallows through the scratchy feeling in her throat, wishing she had accepted the receptionist’s offer of water. “Yes, that’s right.”

His eyes move over the page again and he gives a cryptic “hmm.”

The specifics often change but lately she’s realised that each day of her life feels the same. Wake up before her husband, make his coffee and his breakfast, make sure he wants for nothing and see him off to work. Help the mother-in-law with her shopping and her laundry. Bake a cake for the village fundraiser and drop it off at the the Church. Make polite conversation with the vicar and the other women helping out, compliment their babies, ask about the older children. Try not to cry when she’s bombarded with the dreaded question. “How soon can we expect little ones from you?”

Two weeks ago her husband had come home from work and found her on the sofa, staring into space, too tired to even reach for a book or a magazine. Everything had seemed to be going wrong for her that day, evidenced by the broken washing machine, the broken heel on her shoe, the cuts and blisters on her feet, the shopping left unceremoniously on the kitchen counter. She was absolutely exhausted, but when his dinner wasn't ready and waiting for him, her husband hit the roof.

Something snapped. Before she knew it, she was screaming, eyes hot and streaming with tears as she choked on her own sobs. She had never been so loud in her life. She can hardly even remember what she said.

Her husband’s voice screams inside her head. “Emotional… irrational… hysterical…”

“And you went to the nurse first?” Aemond asks.

“Yes.”

He looks back at the notes. “What did she tell you?”

She shifts in her chair. It should all be right there in front of him, why does she have to say it?

She takes a deep breath, as subtly as she can. “She suggested it could be a hormonal imbalance, or a symptom of…”

Aemond raises a brow, expectantly.

She feels a warmth rushing to her cheeks “... monthly courses,” she says quietly.

“And have you had issues with those?” he asks.

“They can be irregular.”

He hums again and writes something in his notebook.

She clenches her fist around her skirt and notices the soft ticking of the clock on the wall over the desk. It’s not too obtrusive, and the rhythm gives her something to focus on while neither of them are speaking.

Aemond shifts back in his chair, crossing a leg over the other, absentmindedly pressing the lid of his pen to his lips like he’s trying to solve a crossword in the morning paper. “What exactly was your husband’s main concern?”

There comes a familiar feeling, an emptiness in her chest like her body might concave, and a swelling in her eyes. She bites down on her lip to dispel the urge to cry.

Everyone around her loves to comment on how happy she is, how blessed she is to have such a happy marriage and a loving husband.

“He says I’ve been too emotional.”

“Emotional in what way?”

She tells him about the outburst two weeks ago, expecting him to tut and shake his head and chide her for her behaviour. Instead he watches her and listens.

“He says he doesn’t know what else to do with me. He says he does everything he can to make me happy, but that it’ll never be enough for me,” she says.

“And does he make you happy?” he asks.

Her answer hitches in her throat. The obvious response would be of course. He does what any good husband does, works, brings home a salary, sweet talks her mother and smokes cigars with her father when they visit every other Sunday.

Happiness seems to be an external factor, something people comment on and praise her. When other people say she is happy she wears it with pride, like a medal or a precious piece of jewellery.

She loves her husband, as well as any self respecting woman does. She reminds herself that’s the whole reason why she’s here.

At her silence Aemond smiles to himself and begins to write. She follows how his fingertips grip the pen and how the tendons in his hands flex.

“Wait!” she says, shuffling forward in her seat.

He pauses and looks at her like he did before, with his chin tilted down.

“No– I meant to say yes. Yes, he makes me happy.”

His eyes move around her face and briefly down, over the pearl charm hanging from her neck, her white blouse and her hands bunched in her blue skirt. She releases them when she realises he’s looking and rests them on the arms of the chair instead.

This feels like a test, one in which every word and gesture will be put to scrutiny, earning either a curious “hmm” or a scratching of the pen against the paper. She wonders which is worse.

“How long have you been married?” he asks.

“A year in July.”

“No children?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

His question leaves a tight feeling in her chest and in her gut.

Aemond sets the pen down on the desk without making a sound. “Sorry, I know these questions can be obtrusive. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but it would be useful to know what I’m working with.”

That’s an odd way to phrase it, she thinks.

“No it’s alright,” she says, her fingers moving anxiously over each other. “It’s not for lack of trying. We… try a few times a week. Usually on the weekends or when he’s not tired– he’s often tired after work.”

“And how is it?”

“Oh, um–” without thinking her hands move back into her lap and she starts to pick at the red nail polish. “He says there’s something wrong with me.”

Aemond tilts his head. “Wrong with you?”

She squeezes her thighs together at the familiar memory of her husband’s downright painful attempts to make love to her. He practically has to force his way inside of her and she can never stand it for more than a few thrusts before she pushes him off.

He was understanding for the first few months, but she can tell it’s starting to irritate him now. She doesn’t understand why it doesn’t work, what she could possibly be doing wrong.

“Does he prepare you?”

She looks up with a knitted brow. “Prepare me?”

He tuts and mutters something that sounds like “poor thing,” before scrawling another quick note.

Then he stands, rolling up the sleeves of his white coat and the black shirt underneath. “I want to check a few things,” he says, cocking his head towards the examination table on the other side of the room.

She follows dutifully, propping her hands against the leather upholstery and pushing herself up to sit on it. Her black heels don’t reach the floor. She crosses them at the ankle and lets them swing a little.

Once Aemond has washed his hands he approaches her. He’s tall, she realises as he stands before her. His hips are level with her knees and the edge of the table and while he’s not quite close enough to touch her, her legs twitch at the proximity.

She tries to avert her gaze from the somewhat intense expression in his eyes as he simply looks at her. Her eyes don’t stop moving, looking past his shoulder or down at her sides, but there’s not anything interesting to look at.

She focuses on the steady ticking of the clock, counting ten long seconds before she realises she’s holding her breath.

When she finally releases she finds herself focusing instead on the gentle sounds of Aemond’s breath through his nose, the smell of his hair gel, musky aftershave and the lingering scent of smoke.

Warm fingertips brush against her jaw as he brings her to look at him. She can feel the slight roughness of the pads of his fingers, but he’s gentle when he touches her, almost cautious.

He leans in a little closer until he’s touching her knees. She doesn’t let herself react but her heart is drumming furiously, more so when his thumb strokes over her cheek. He moves back and forth, grazing the corner of her mouth, before he swipes it over her lower lip.

She relaxes her mouth as he presses and tugs on the soft flesh. It’s somehow both terrifying and oddly reassuring.

And then he settles, pressing both of her lips into a slight pout while his fingertips rest against her jaw and the top of her neck.

“Open your mouth for me,” he says.

She stares back at him with wide eyes. Had she heard that correctly?

The corners of his mouth curl politely, waiting for her compliance.

So she does as he asks.

With his fingers holding her chin, Aemond inches his thumb into her mouth, settling on her tongue. His skin tastes clean and faintly medicinal from the amber soap.

“You can close your mouth,” he says.

She keeps her eyes on his as she closes her lips around him, careful not to touch him with her teeth.

He hums again, low and contentedly. “Good girl.”

She shudders at the sudden weightlessness in her belly.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

She gives him a small nod.

"Good," he utters, "just breathe."

She loses count of the seconds on the clock as he simply settles inside of her. She does as he says, breathing deeply through her nose, looking up at him through her eyelashes, trying to read if he's pleased or not.

When he starts to withdraw and she instinctively drags her tongue along his thumb. She looks down at his hand, the imprint of her mauve lipstick on his skin, the glistening digit and the small line of spit that trails from her mouth, which he wipes away with his fingers.

“How did that feel?” he asks.

She thinks for a moment. “Good.”

He glances down and her eyes follow, to the fabric of her skirt. When she stands it falls to her shin, but seated, the hem rides up to just below her knees. He places a wide hand on her left knee, their skin separated only by a thin layer of nylon stockings.

“These outbursts of yours,” he mutters, “are they a regular occurrence?”

“Not really,” she says.

“What do you think caused it?”

She presses her teeth together and looks away from him to think. “Lots of things I suppose. It all piles up.”

“How did it feel, to shout at your husband?”

She huffs a laugh at the instinct that appears in her head, it’s not something she should ever admit, but there’s something about Aemond’s eyes and the feeling of his hands that make her want to tell him the truth,

“I liked it, I was just so…” she shakes her head looking for the right word, but she supposes there’s a simpler explanation. “I was so angry, angrier than I’ve ever been in my life.”

“What were you angry at?” Aemond asks, his thumb starting to stroke against her thigh.

Would it be too much to list every aspect of her life that irritates her?

She hates a lot of things. She hates tidying the house just for it to get messy again. She hates it when her new shoes dig into her skin and make her bleed. She hates that she seems incapable of interacting with another person without suffering their scrutiny. She hates it when people tell her that her life is perfect.

Everything races around in her head, screaming and shouting at her until the noise becomes silent, just a throbbing pain in her head.

“Just… everything,” she groans, rubbing her fingertips against her temple. “I don’t understand it, everyone says our life together is so perfect, but I don’t feel perfect.”

His hand moves away from her and she looks up at the absence.

Aemond takes a slow breath. “Are you familiar with hysteria?”

Her heart sinks and he seems to see it in her face.

He purses his lips for a moment before he explains, “it’s essentially an excess of ill-managed emotions. It can lead to irrational behaviour and quite severe distress.”

She’s heard of the condition before, sparse stories here and there of men who had no choice but to seek proper treatment for their wives when they are too emotional… irrational… hysterical.

She’s not like those women, surely, and her husband knows that, right?

“Is that what's wrong with me?” she asks.

His mouth quirks. “Quite possibly.”

“But I’ve heard of women with this condition before. I’ve heard what their husbands do to them, I—” she can feel her eyes beginning to well with hot, stinging tears. “That’s not going to happen to me, is it?”

She hangs her head, dread pooling in her belly, until his hands cup the sides of her face. Aemond brings her gaze up into his eyes.

“Don’t send me away,” she whispers, blinking the tears from her eyes so they roll down her cheeks. “Please, there must be something you can do–”

“There there, pet,” he says, tracing his thumbs along her teartracks, “everything is going to be alright, hmm? We can sort you out.”

She nods at his reassurance and the feeling of his hands against her skin. It must be entirely improper to be so close to another man, even more so when she starts to realise just how much she likes it, a sweet sort of unease. Perhaps that’s just his nature, perhaps he’s just good at this part of his job.

For a moment he presses his lips together in a strange way, like he’s holding something back. “There is one treatment I’m keen to suggest,” he says.

“What treatment?” she asks.

He tilts his head slightly. “Hysteria is an instability of emotion. You need a release.”

“Like when I shouted at my husband?”

He smiles at that. “It felt good, didn’t it?”

She nods.

“We can undergo controlled releases,” he says, “you’ll be much happier for it.”

She takes a sharp breath when one of his hands moves down from her cheek to rest casually at her waist.

“I can start the treatment today, if you’d like?”

His face is close to hers now, She feels every flutter of his breath, the heat of his body separated by inches of empty space.

“Yes please,” she says quietly, like she might disturb the peacefulness in the room if she speaks any louder. “If it’s not too much trouble?”

“Don’t worry, pet, we’ve still got plenty of time left,” he says, stepping away. “Take your skirt off, and lie back.”

Suddenly her skin feels tight. “My skirt?”

“If you don’t mind?” he says over his shoulder as he walks towards his desk. “It just makes things a little easier, maybe the blouse too.”

She hops down from the table, heels clicking against the floor. While Aemond’s pen scratches against paper, she turns her back and starts to pick at the buttons on the top of her blouse. She pulls it over her head and folds it, setting it down on the table, where her head will go. Then she pulls down the zip on her skirt and lets it fall around her. For the slightly mortifying prospect of standing there in her stockings and undergarments, the breeze from the window washes over the bare skin of her arms and torso. It’s quite nice, a welcome relief.

She waits with her heels close together and her hands clasped in front of her. Aemond has his back to her and she watches the way the sunlight catches in the silvery streaks of his hair. He tears a sheet from the pad of prescription papers and leaves it on his desk before he moves to the sink to wash his hands. It’s methodical, like before, well rehearsed and memorised for efficiency. Does he even have to think about what he’s doing, she wonders?

Once his hands are dried he reaches into a drawer under his desk. He keeps his eyes on the small object in his hands as he walks towards her.

She straightens her back and puts her hands on the table behind her, testing her weight so she can shuffle on top of it.

Aemond looks up and she pauses.

His eyes dart up and down her body. “Shoes and stockings off too.”

Blood rushes to her cheeks but she complies, reaching down to undo the small buckles on each shoe. Once they’re under the table she stands straight and curls her thumbs around her stockings.

She looks up to Aemond. He gives her a small nod.

She starts to pull the thin material down her legs, so thin it should hardly make a difference. She shivers as the breeze meets a new part of her body. She straightens again, dutifully awaiting her next instruction.

The corners of Aemond’s mouth curl. “Perfect,” he mutters.

He steps closer to her, until she can make out the object in his hands. It’s a coppery colour, gleaming like metal, and no smaller than a tube of lipstick. He slips it into his coat pocket.

She follows Aemond’s hand as he reaches out and runs a slender finger under the strap of her brassiere. “I think we’ll keep this on,” he says.

She nods, though she doesn’t really know why.

A hum sounds in his throat and his eyes look over her face. “Lie back.”

She does as he says and fiddles with her hands, unsure of where to put them until she decides to keep them by her sides. Anticipation sets her nerves alight. She listens to every breath, each taunting footstep as Aemond comes to stand at the foot of the bed.

He moves slowly so as not to agitate her, but her whole body tenses when his hands clasp around her ankles. It’s obvious he’s trying to be gentle, but even when softly spoken his voice leaves a restless feeling in her gut. “Shh, try to relax, and just let me…” he lifts her legs up along her body until her knees are by her hips. His hands go to her thighs next and she lets out a short whimper of surprise when he pulls her closer to him.

“There we go,” he muses to himself, one hand on her thigh while he gently rests the other on her navel, over the hem of her panties.

Her hands are restless, fists clenching and nails digging into her palms.

Aemond looks down at her with a hint of concern. “You can tell me if you want to stop, at any point.”

“No it’s alright,” she breathes, suppressing the urge to arch her back.

His brows raise as he looks down, grazing his fingertips over her skin. Each movement has her breath hitching or her body squirming, no matter how hard she tries to relax, just as he’d instructed.

He brings both hands to her knees, closing them together before he reaches for her panties and slides them from her legs. She doesn’t see where he drops them. Her hands come into fists again as he gradually spreads her legs.

She’s not sure what to expect or how this is supposed to help her control her emotions, but she tries to concentrate on staying still, keeping whatever dignity she has left.

“Look at that,” Aemond hums, circling his thumbs against her inner thighs, “you’re already getting wet.”

She can feel it, the warmth pooling between her legs. No one has ever told her it’s bad, but it’s one of those things she wonders if she should be ashamed of. She tries to shift but there’s nowhere for her body to go, nowhere she can hide from him.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters, “it’s not bad, is it?”

Aemond frowns. “You mean you don’t…” he trails off as his face melts into an amused sort of sympathy, like he’s piecing together a puzzle. “Bad news for your husband maybe. It means you’re aroused.”

Aroused. She repeats the word to herself a few times.

Surely it is a bad thing to find herself in such a state, only she finds herself turning her attention to Aemond. Her gaze trails shamelessly over the veins and tendons of his hands and forearms as he kneads at her thighs, the curve of his upper lip and the tip of his tongue swiping between his teeth. If only she could read his mind, figure out what he’s thinking behind those pretty blue eyes, what hypothesis he’s playing around with inside his head.

And then he reaches into his pocket. She lifts her head to try and get a better look. The coppery object looks more like an oversized bullet, with a slightly pointed head and a black button at its base. When Aemond presses the button it starts to hum. Even the noise of it sparks a reaction from her. She feels something strange, like a shockwave flashing through her body.

“Relax,” Aemond says, bringing his other hand to her hip. “I don’t want to have to tie you down.”

“No,” she utters, “sorry.” She lets her head fall against the upholstery and stares up at the ceiling, determined not to react.

Until something presses to her centre, humming against her. Pleasure pulses through her, unfamiliar but hot and bright. Her eyes snap shut and her hips try to buck but Aemond’s hand holds her down.

“How does it feel?” he says.

Her first attempt to speak comes out as a broken whimper. “Good,” she manages, stilling her hips from trying to rock against the bullet. “Fuck…”

Something inside of her feels tight, tensing and tensing until she’s sure she can’t take any more. But he keeps it against her, making small, rhythmic movements through her folds, edging her closer to that rising feeling only to relieve her of it.

Her nails start to drag along the leather, clawing at it for purchase. She tries to stay still, to keep her hips steady but something has to give. She turns her head to the side, whimpering and groaning into her shoulder.

“There you go,” Aemond hums, as he finds a truly torturous pattern, slowly swiping upwards from her entrance to the sweet spot of her pearl, only to start over.

“Please,” she whimpers as he tears her away from that feeling again. Blissful tears blur her vision and she feels utterly weightless. “I can’t stand it…”

He lingers the bullet just below her pearl. She’s so close to something. She can feel it.

“Do you want to stop?” Aemond asks.

“No!” she cries.

He starts to move in small circles now and her body feels like it’s burning. “Just take it,” he says, “you can take it, just be a good girl for me, hmm?”

“Yes… yes…” she utters like a dreamy chant.

The button clicks and the vibrations increase. She hardly registers the wanton noises she makes, but she’s all too aware of wet sounds of her arousal and Aemond’s short hums when her hips start to buck again.

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” Aemond says. “Come on, pet, you can do it, you’re almost there…”

She feels the hum of her throat as she groans his name and suddenly the tight feeling snaps. Her whole body releases, just as Aemond promised, and she feels herself come undone. He guides her through it, the bullet whirring against her and his hand steady on her hip.

When he finally withdraws, her limbs don’t feel like her own. She listens to her own breath and feels the rise and fall of her chest as she wills herself into a state of awareness. She props herself onto her elbows and her eyes meet Aemond’s.

He smirks, and looks down again, gently drawing a thumb through her folds.

Her back arches and her breath hitches, though not as intensely as before. She can feel how slick she is now, how easily he moves against her. She eases under his touch and just lets it feel good.

“You did so well,” he says, “fuck, the way your cunt twitches when you come…”

She gazes at him with a bewildered kind of awe, at his parted lips, the golden glow of sunlight trailing down his jaw and his neck, and now the dark, almost hungry look in his eyes. She can already feel the desire rising again, the wanting for more.

“There’s something else I want to try,” he says. His thumb slips further down, teasing her entrance. “If you’ll let me?”

She holds her bottom lip between her teeth and nods.

“Good girl,” he hums.

That alone has her trying to roll her hips against him, but then he’s gone. She wants to groan in protest but keeps her mouth shut as she watches him remove his white coat and black shirt, both of which he drapes over his chair. For his seemingly slender frame, he’s surprisingly muscular.

With his back still turned to her she watches his hands move to his trousers. She hears the clinking of his belt buckle and the sound of his fly coming undone. He reaches back into the same drawer, tears something between his teeth and discards a small, white packet on the desk.

As he comes to stand before her once more she can’t help the small smile that graces her lips, unashamedly appreciating the muscles of his torso, his pectorals and the lines of his abdominals, and his now freed cock, already hard, and certainly larger than her husband’s.

He stands before her once again, bringing her knees down so he can slot himself between her legs.

She can already feel herself twitching and her heart racing.

He doesn’t waste much time on preamble. “You’re fucking soaked,” he mutters, lining the his cock to her entrance and taking a hold of her thigh, “be a shame to waste it.”

She expects it to hurt when he pushes inside of her, and for a moment it does. She feels the way he stretches her out with just the tip. He moves slowly, dragging in and out of her, each time pushing in a little more. She can take the pain, at least until it starts to melt away. After a few strokes it feels effortless.

Aemond lets out a sharp grunt as he comes close to bottoming out. “How does it feel?” he asks with a small amount of strain.

It’s a different kind of pleasure, it’s duller and deeper, less frantic but it still burns in the best way.

“Good,” she breathes.

Aemond’s hands take hold of her waist as he increases his pace, dragging her into him to match his thrusts.

The air feels hot and thick now, the ticking of the clock drowned out by laboured panting, breathless moans and the soft sounds of skin meeting skin.

“Fuck you’re tight,” he hisses, sinking his fingertips deeper into her flesh.

“I don’t suppose that’s a medical term?” she says with a dazed grin.

Aemond huffs a laugh but it seems to spur him on, his jaw slack and his brow furrowed in determination.

She wraps her legs around his hips and reaches up for him, but all she manages is to graze her fingertips over his torso. He snatches her wrists, leaning over to pin them on either side of her head as he brutally starts to snap her hips into hers. Like this he fucks her deeper and harder against the leather.

She feels her release building slowly, his cock brushing against a spot that has her eyes watering again.

“Going to come for me?” Aemond grits out, pressing his forehead to hers.

“I want to,” she whimpers, arching her back to get closer to him, “fuck–”

He releases one of her wrists and slips his hand between them, circling her pearl with the pads of his fingers.

He brings his lips to the shell of her ear. “You’re squeezing me so good,” he whispers harshly, “nearly there, nearly there sweetheart…”

Her legs start to shake as her pleasure peaks and her climax washes over her. Every part of her body tenses and moulds itself into him. Aemond doesn’t relent, he keeps fucking her until she’s whining and squirming, until finally he lets out a guttural groan into her neck. His hips still and she feels him throbbing inside of her, spilling himself into the condom.

For a moment she’s content to lie there, no matter how uncomfortable the surface of the bed is. She likes Aemond’s weight on top of her, his breath on her neck, the scent of him, the sweat from his brow against her skin. But they don’t stay like that for long. He pulls away from her and makes quick work of disposing of the condom and tucking himself back into his trousers.

“Nothing wrong in that regard,” he says, reaching for her hand to help her sit up. “If you’re having trouble it’s the fault of your husband. He needs to prepare you before he tries to fuck you.”

She flicks her hair from her neck to relieve some of the heat. “Oh, right.” She can feel herself trembling, but she feels light, like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders.

“How are you feeling now?” he asks, placing a reassuring hold to her arm.

“Good,” she says.

Aemond carefully helps her back into her panties, stockings, shoes, blouse and skirt. He rights her necklace, wipes the dried tears from her cheeks, drags his thumb around her mouth where her lipstick has smudged and helps her down from the bed, keeping a firm hand on her until she nods to let him know she’s alright.

He tears off a prescription paper and hands it to her. She quickly skims over it. He’s not prescribed any medication or recommended a lobotomy, thank God.

“Contraction therapy?” she reads, looking up at him with a raised brow.

“I want to see you twice weekly,” he says, buttoning up his shirt. “Maybe we can go for three times a week, if you feel it would be beneficial.”

She tries her best to hide her smile. “Well I’m sure you know best, doctor.”

General Taglist (comment if you wanna be added): @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy

#aemond targaryen #my fics #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen smut #aemond smut #aemond fanfic #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x y/n #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfiction

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tipsyleaf · 9 days

Note

Imagine if you finally give into Leon and give him that other baby he’s been nagging at you for…🤭

You’d both announce it to your little girl by surprising her with a shirt that says ‘Big sister!’ Or something like that, and she’s very much start crying as soon as you two tell her what it says and means.

She’d quite literally start sobbing and throwing a tantrum, saying that ‘Daddy’s gonna forget about me!’ ‘Daddy’s gonna love the baby more than me!’ Or ‘The baby’s gonna take daddy from me!’ Sometimes along those lines. You couldn’t help but laugh, reassuring her that this baby didn’t mean that she’d be forgotten or less loved.

As the months flew by, your little girl would definitely fall asleep against your bump, saying it was ‘to listen to her heartbeat.’ Because yes, the two of you are having another little princess.

Leon would come home after a mission, seeing the two of you on the couch, taking a little nap together. Head against your belly, patting your little girls back as she slept. How cute.

- Anon! 🎀

🎀anon you beautiful fuck I love you so much!

(Just for future reference I'll be calling these baby girls Violetta 'Violet' (oldest) and Cecilia (youngest).

Violet's upset hearing the news. Inconsolable at first, even threatens to runaway to her Uncle Chris's house to go live with him, his wife (aunt) and her 3 cousins (2 girls and 1 boy). But then she finds out that since she'll be getting a baby sister they need space in her room for the baby so they end up turning the basement into a giant playroom and suddenly this baby is the greatest thing to happen to her.

Ofc, she'll warm up to the baby. Cuddle up to her mommy when daddy's away, promising him to look after her because she knows how daddy gets when he's away from home and her. She can only imagine what he's thinking leaving her, mommy and a baby in her belly!

Immediately starts trying to take Leon's responsibilities. Even if he's only gone for a week Violet's doing daddy's job. Dishes, taking care of the yard (poorly but at least she tried) watering the plants. You wouldn't let her do any repairs and that upset her but she got over it pretty fast. But you didn't realize how often she actually paid attention to Leon's mannerisms until there was a storm coming while he's away. You call for her in the house. Violet doesn't respond...

You start panicking thinking maybe she went outside and then you open the front door. You see her standing on the porch staring out at the dark clouds. Hands on her hips... just like Leon does when he's thinking.

"'Bout a couple miles out." She has no idea wtf that means, but daddy says it every time so she does. You end up taking a picture of her staring out at the clouds from the front door and send it to your husband captioned 'Come get your child 🙄'

Every night he's gone though you two cuddle and end up sleeping in the big bed while Violet reads her books to the baby. Even watching movies together.

Leon ends up coming home a day early and walks in after dinner to find you and Violet curled up on the couch. Her little head on your belly. Leon just smiles, moving to curl up to you on the open side after giving Violet a kiss on the head. He puts his head on your shoulder and hand on your belly and feels the baby kick against his hand.

He's exhausted but so happy to be home. And he gets to come home to this everytime he leaves...

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon s kennedy #🏡 domestic life with Leon Kennedy #resident evil x reader #🌿 ivy writes #🌿 ivy replies

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lehguru · 1 year

Text

CALLING THEM MY LOVE + CHAINSAW WOMEN

characters: makima, power, quanxi, asa, kobeni

warnings: not proofread; reader uses she pronoun and wears a bra in quanxi's, gender neutral on everyone else; slightly suggestive in quanxi's (im h-word for her ok) + requests are open ! check pinned post for requesting rules

makima loves to hear you use pet names with her. whenever any soft nickname leaves your lips, she smirks and gives you a side look, chuckling gently at your behavior. "my love, what do you think of this?" you say, showing her a picture of a dish on your phone. 'we could try it, my love', she chuckles again and shakes her head softly. (she will keep thinking about how you're the only person she will ever allow to treat her like that)

at first, power doesn't really get that you're calling her when you say a pet name. "my love, can you take a shower? aki called me to complain about it." her face turned so red, you thought she got embarrassed about not cleaning up, but the finger that she pointed at you made all your assumptions fly through the window. 'topknot is your love?! what the hell! yer supposed to be mine! mine, you hear me!' you giggle at her behavior and explain that's a soft name you decided to call her by, not aki. she immediately sits on your lap with a pout and 'yeah, it better be'

quanxi looks at you like a predator looks at its pray as soon as any sweet name leaves your lips. you're one of her girlfriends, but you always seemed to have more of her attention; so when you noticed her eyes on you, for what seemed the tenth time that day, you smiled and said: "my love, do you need something?". she groaned and threw her head back, motioning for you to come closer. as you started to walk up to her, she brought her head up again, just to stare at you with an hungry eye. she pulled you to sit on her lap, her hands quickly making their way up to unbutton your bra. 'i was just lookin' at what is mine, but... since you asked, i might as well take something, right?'

asa chokes on thin air if you use even the most simple nickname while talking to her. "my love, will you go hangout with denji today?" you asked, your eyes focused on taking notes for your next test. your head immediately snapped up when you heard the sound of your girlfriend choking, her hand resting against her chest. you tried to go closer, but the hand on her chest came forward to stop you from doing so. 'w-wait! what— what did you just called me?' after a moment to bring herself together, she gave you a quick hug. 'y-yeah, i'm going to meet up with denji today.... ho-honey'

kobeni starts crying. honestly, she starts crying whenever you show any kind of love or softness towards her. hearing that her brand new car recently got destroyed, you called her up to see if she was okay. "don't worry, my love! you know i'm here for you, right?" her voice was already a little emotional, but as soon as those words entered the speaker, you heard her start sobbing loudly on the other side. you were about to ask her to not cry over her car, but she cried out something that stopped you from doing so. 'y-you lobe me?!'

2023 © content belongs to lehguru, but the characters used on them belong to their respective creators!!

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httpshujii · 10 months

Note

Ayyy <33

For the prompt things you shared, if you're OK with it of course

"#12. "your mom totally hates me."

"she almost started planning our wedding yesterday."

"oh."

𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐌𝐞 彡 In which . . . he's the embodiment of a bad guy and your mom agrees.

〔CW〕 — Pet name(s) (baby), making out.

〔AN〕 — It took me a good minute to realize that today is July 10 and it's @natdu 's bday so.......HAPPY BIRTHDAY NAT MY BB <333

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes."

"She's going to hate me."

"No she's not."

"Baby."

"C/n."

He stops in front of you. You cross your arms over your chest.

Last night, your mother asked you to invite your 'wonderful' boyfriend over so she can meet him for the first time.

Unbeknownst to her however, your boyfriend holds the embodiment of 'if looks could kill.'

Rocking tattoos here and there, a dangling hoop in his ear, and a bad mouth.

"What if I accidentally say a bad word? I'd never be able to see you again!"

A sigh escapes your throat as his arms wrap around you and he sobs (fakely) into the crook of your neck.

"Oh the agony!" A small slap to his shoulder sends him to stand up straight. The reality of him standing in front of your home sinks in.

This is where you grew up. This is where you sleep and do your homework. This is where you spend your time when you're not with him.

He's nervous. And you're very aware of that.

With a small squeeze to his hand, you reassure him by pressing a kiss to his cheek before opening the door and walking in.

"I'm home with the special guest!"

Immediately, the smell of warm food hits his senses. A hum rumbles low in his chest and you both kick off your shoes.

You basically drag him towards the dining room to see your mother preparing the table.

"Mom, this is c/n. C/n this is mom." You introduce with a bright smile on your face.

And your mom's reaction was what you expected. Eyes wide and blinking rapidly.

You look up at your boyfriend and he's practically sweating bullets, "H-hello ma'am. It's very nice to finally meet you." He manages to greet your mother, extending a shaky hand waiting for her to accept it.

A small smile grazes her lips and she shakes his hand.

"It's nice to finally meet the boy y/n can't stop talking about."

"Oh?" Now he's looking at you. Heat tickles your neck.

"Mom!"

"It's true," A small giggle leaves your mother's lips and she guides you both to the table, "Hope you like [your favorite food]."

"Y/n told me about it, I've always wanted to try it."

And so dinner goes better than great. The three of you laughing together, enjoying the food together, and just having a good time.

He even offers to clean the dishes with you while your mother makes tea.

And so once again, laughter echos in the living room. You and c/n sitting on one couch, his arm playing with your hair as your mom tells him stories about you.

And somehow...

You all decided to watch a movie, you and c/n went to make popcorn while your mother picked out a movie.

And what do two teenagers that are so in love do?

They make sure the other knows how much they love them.

"I love you.." c/n murmurs against your lips, his hands resting on the counter, pinning you between him and the marble surface.

Feeling shy and fidgety, "My mom can come in any minute you know.."

"I know." One of his fingers brush over you burning cheek, "But a little kiss wouldn't hurt right?"

A little kiss would hurt if it turns into a full on make out session.

And a make out session would kill, if your mother decided to walk in on you two all over each other.

"H-hey mom! How um how is the air you're breathing?"

The poor woman was buffering up what she just witnessed and the beeping of the microwave snapped her back to reality.

"I think I'm just gonna...yeah, I'm gonna call it for the night."

. . .

"Your mom totally hates me."

"She almost started planning our wedding yesterday."

"Oh."

One second, two seconds, three seconds.

"WHAT?"

-TERUSHIMA, Kuroo, Atsumu, Suna, Gojo??, Kazutora, Baji, Mikey, Draken, RAN, Smiley

💭. . . 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 . . .@natdu

HAPPY BIRTHDAY NAT!! Where do I even start? Okay- so ever since we started interacting, I would feel all giddy and warm inside. You make me so happy even on days where I just don't feel like being happy. Anytime I get a notification from you, or anytime we interact, even if it's only a small one, I feel very complete and my day would get better. I'm so happy we got to meet on here and hope you have an amazing birthday <3

💌. . . 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐑𝐚𝐲

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pinknightsinmymind · 11 months

Note

I feel like abby would be so caring and gentle if you ever needed to use your safeword 🥺 n she would make sure you knew she wasn’t disappointed in you if u can’t tell i’m projecting my feelings about my shitty relationship and living vicariously thru fictional characterssss

【 safe words & aftercare - abby anderson | semi-NSFW 】

abby anderson x fem!reader

NSFW CONTENT DOWN BELOW MDNI

wc: 2.3k

content: established relationsip, strap-on usage, doggy style, use of pet names(love, babe, baby, etc.), use of safe word(traffic light system), LOADS OF FLUFF, caring gf abby, reassurance, cuddling, abby takes care of you, showering together(very sweet no smut involved here), abby tackling her own intimacy issues, aftercare, abs being the best gf ever🥺

a/n: anon i'm so sorry you've experienced that :(( you don't deserve that and you 1000000000% deserve better always and pls never forget that you are worth so much and deserve so much more i hope this little oneshot is able to offer you some comfort and that you enjoy it. <333 also! only the first two paragraphs are nsfw but i'm still going to consider this nsfw and include that in the contents bc this is for the grown folks

Usually, you could take whatever Abby dished, and you loved to, but today was different. Maybe you were just a little too tired, especially after going on patrol this morning, and the room just felt too hot. It was too much for you, and as much as you wanted to keep going for Abby, you just couldn’t. You had been in the mood earlier, so excited for Abby to take you from the back with her strap, but you felt too tired to keep going. With all these things adding up, you could feel yourself growing less wet, and the friction from her strap was starting to hurt. Your face was buried in the pillows as Abby’s hips hammered into you from behind, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing throughout the room. You loved her, and you loved this, but you just weren’t feeling it today.

“Abby?” you asked. You were tearing up and sniffling from the pain, and you spoke too quietly because of it. “Abby!” you repeated, louder than before. “Red!” Abby immediately stopped moving and pulled out of you quickly. The word had shocked her out of whatever she had been thinking. Whatever motivations she may have had to continue with what she was doing disappeared automatically. You had never used your safe word before, and she was scared. Were you okay? Did she hurt you? Did she accidentally do something you didn’t like? Was something wrong? She hurriedly unfastened the harness from around her hips, throwing it onto the ground as you collapsed onto the bed. She hurried to your side, her eyes assessing your face almost immediately.

“You okay, love? Are you alright with me touching you?” she asked. You nodded, and her hands came up to cup your face. She could see the tears in your eyes and the small streaks left behind from the ones that had already fallen.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” she said. She watched as more tears fell down your face and wiped them away with her thumb. “What’s the matter? You can tell me, honey, it’s alright.”

“I’m just not feeling it today, Abs. I’m just—I’m too tired, and it was starting to hurt.”

“That’s okay, love. It happens, and that’s alright. Just tell me what you need.”

“Can you hold me?” you asked, on the verge of sobbing.

“Of course, baby, come here.” Abby pulled the covers from underneath your bodies and settled into the mattress next to you, covering you both with the blanket. She wrapped her arms around you tightly, your bare body pressed into hers, and you buried your face in the crook of her neck. You couldn’t help the tears that fell from your eyes. Maybe you were more stressed and tired from patrols than you thought, and perhaps this had been building up for a while now. You felt safe in Abby’s arms, but you couldn't help but remember that this was the first time you had ever used a safe word with her before. Your partnership was fairly new, and although she was being so kind to you, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe you had disappointed her somehow. What if she was annoyed with you? What if this was making her look at you differently? The thoughts left a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Abs,” you whispered. “Are you mad at me? Have I disappointed you?” She halted the hand that had been caressing your skin, so taken aback by the question you had asked.

“Wh—Mad? Why would I be mad at you, baby?” She craned her neck to look down at where you had your face nestled into her.

“Because I used our safe word,” you explained. “We had to stop because of me.”

“No. No, baby, I’m not mad at you. I could never be mad at you. Never. You and your wellbeing are more important to me than having sex. If you want to stop, we stop. I’d never be mad at you for using a safe word. If anything, I’m proud of you for using it.”

“Really?” you sniffled. Abby delivered one last caress to your back before moving her hand to pet your head.

“Yes, love. I’m so proud of you. Always. I’m here to take care of you, remember?”

“Yeah,” you answered. You were quiet for a moment before speaking up again. “I think I was just too tired and stressed out for anything today.”

“And that’s okay,” Abby reassured you. “You know Isaac’s an asshole who works us to the bone.” You could tell Abby was trying to lighten the mood, so you nodded your head in response. You appreciated her efforts. “But that’s what I’m here for, yeah? I’m here to take care of you no matter what, so just tell me what you need.” You couldn’t stop the sobbing once it started and hid your face in her shoulder as she continued to hold you. “Shh, shh, it’s okay,” she whispered. “I got you. Let it all out.”

You weren’t even crying from stress or exhaustion anymore, but rather from how loved Abby made you feel. You had never been treated so delicately, so carefully before, more used to casual hookups than something as tender and as real as this. It was hard to come by and experience gentleness in this world, but here you were feeling it reverberate through your bones in Abby’s arms. The feeling was overwhelming. You had never felt so safe and secure before, so sure that she would take care of you like she promised. Abby made you feel cherished, made you feel like you could count on her. You knew without a doubt that you could trust her, that she was someone you wanted to be with for a long time. She was so kind, so caring, more than anyone could ever know, but you did. You knew, and you could feel her kindness through the soft touches she left on your skin. Abby was still holding you as tightly as ever even after you had calmed down. To you that meant everything. It showed you that she was still here, that she wasn’t going anywhere.

“How are you feeling, love?” she asked.

“Better,” you answered.

“That’s good. That’s what I want to hear.”

“You take such good care of me,” you said quietly.

“Because I love you,” she said simply. She said it like she was stating a fact, like it was an absolute truth, like it was the easiest thing in the world. That simplicity hit you in the chest like a ton of bricks. To have someone love you the way she did… The overwhelming nature of it made your heart ache with love.

“I love you, too,” you replied, doing your best to fight the tears. You didn’t want to cry again, but, God, did Abby have that effect on you.

“Tell you what,” Abby proposed. “Me and you, we’re gonna shower, okay? Then after our shower, I’m going to make you dinner, and we can spend the rest of the night cuddling. I know you’re off tomorrow, so I’ll ask some favors, get someone to cover for me, and you can have me all to yourself tomorrow. How does that sound?”

“Good,” you replied. Your eyes were welling up again. “I’d like that a lot. You’re the best, Abs.” Your voice was wobbly, and you were doing your best to hide it, but Abby was too observative.

“Baby,” she cooed. “It’s okay. Don’t cry. You’re alright. Everything’s okay.”

“I know,” you said.

“I’ll go start our bath for us, okay?” she said. She kissed the top of your head before pulling away, escaping from underneath the covers to make her way to your bathroom. You relaxed into the pillows as you watched Abby pass through the door frame and disappear into the next room. You could hear the water running, and she stayed in there for a while as she drew the water. When Abby returned, she uncovered you and helped you out of bed. You followed her into the bathroom, your eyes immediately landing on the placid and welcoming bath. It was filled about halfway, and you figured that was because of the fact the two of you would be sitting within the water. You were both naked already, so all you had to do was step into the hot water and let it soothe your skin. It was comforting to sink into the warm water and just relax, Abby taking her place behind you. She kissed your shoulder as she grabbed a nearby towel and rubbed her favorite pine soap on it. She wasn’t oblivious—she knew just how much you liked smelling like her. She rubbed the towel around your neck, your shoulders, your collarbones, your stomach and chest, before moving to clean your back. The warm water and Abby’s touches worked wonders to relax your muscles as she took her time to bathe you. It was sweet, and it was tender, and you never knew love like this existed. Abby leaned forward to clean your legs, then offered you the towel to clean any other places you wanted or that she had missed. She couldn’t stop herself from delivering kisses to the back of your neck as you did so.

“Can I clean you, Abs?” you asked. You turned to glance at her, just in time to see the blush on her face.

“Oh, no, it’s okay. I can clean myself,” she insisted.

“You sure?” you asked. “I wanted to clean you up, too. I mean, you cleaned me.”

“I–You don’t have to do that,” she insisted. The truth was, sometimes she was uncomfortable with intimacy, scared to let someone take care of her or see her so vulnerable like this. The idea of someone knowing her so deeply and allowing them to do things like this frightened her, because what if they saw something they didn't like? What if they changed their mind? The possibilities scared her, but this type of vulnerability was a part of love, wasn’t it? Allowing yourself to be known? Taking the jump? Abby glanced around the bathroom, the room suddenly feeling smaller, but she took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll let you wash me.” When Abby saw the giant smile that spread across your face, she regretted almost denying your request. How could she say no when you looked so happy, so excited, just to care for her?

“Give me your towel.” You turned your body to face her, the water sloshing around the walls of the tub as you did so. While you did that, Abby reached for the other small towel she had nearby and handed it to you. You grabbed her favorite soap and sudsed up her towel, then scooted closer to her body until you were kneeling in front of her. You started cleaning her shoulders first, Abby watching as you spread the soap across her chest and down to her breasts, then her stomach. You grabbed her arms and cleaned them carefully, all the way to her fingertips, as if she was the most delicate thing you had ever laid your hands on. No one ever treated her like that, not when most people feared her and acted like she never needed anyone.

“Turn around,” you said, and Abby did exactly as you asked. She could feel you lathering the soap all over her back, making sure to get every inch of her skin. When you were done, you leaned down and kissed the back of her neck. “Okay, turn back around,” you instructed.

After cleaning her upper body, you reached down to grab her legs, straightening them out and cleaning her skin. Her muscles were so taut and knotted, and you did your best to massage and loosen them up as much as you could. Abby wasn’t used to something like this, but she allowed you to do it nonetheless. It just felt so personal, so deeply intimate, like you were truly seeing and coming to know every part of her. It was scary, but by the time you finished cleaning her body, she felt like she was glowing, and it wasn’t just from how well you had cleaned her up. She actually felt good on the inside, and she just felt so bright. She always found it so easy to care for others that she forgot what it was like to let someone else take care of her. Maybe she got so caught up in everything that she forgot an aspect of love was allowing yourself to be seen, not just continuously giving. Giving made her feel good—and she’d never stop—but letting you see her like this made her feel good, too. Secure, even. It made her realize that she could allow herself to be seen and cared for by you, that she could be vulnerable, and that it would be okay if she did.

After rinsing off and letting the water drain from the tub, you and Abby were both wrapped up in your towels to dry off. While she was wringing her hair out into the tub, she glanced at you through the corner of her eye. You were drying off your legs and your arms, and she thought that even like this, so simple and so bare, that you were still so beautiful. You were so precious, deserving of so much, and all she wanted to do was take care of you. It’s what you deserved in general, but especially after today. She found herself walking over to you before she even realized, pressing into your back and enveloping you into her arms. She leaned down and placed a sweet kiss on your shoulder blade.

“How about we get dressed and I get to making that dinner I promised? How does that sound, sweet thing?” she asked. She looked into your eyes through the mirror in front of the two of you, and she could see you were absolutely beaming.

“I’d love that, Abs!” you said. She gave you another kiss, this time on the space underneath your ear.

“I knew you would, love. Now, let’s enjoy our night in, yeah?” she prompted you.

#abby anderson #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x reader fluff

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sassypossumm · 19 days

Text

That's It, We're Moving Back To Asgard

Your daughter gets teased mercilessly, and the aftermath. What did you expect when her father is Loki?

Loki would just make the best dad I think.Finally back to thinking about my favorite man, Loki!

Really, darling, it's all in the wrist." Loki chuckled, flipping yet another of your incredibly expensive dishes into the air. He easily caught the dish in his other hand.

"I believed you the first time, Loki." You snatched the plate from his hands before he could start spinning it on his finger like a basketball. Loki's eyes sparkled with mischief, and as you turned to put the plate back in the cabinet, he reached for another and began spinning it on his index finger.

"You act as if I'm going to drop one of your precious,"

Crash.

You stiffened at the telltale sound of glass hitting the floor. Slowly you closed the cabinet door and turned to glare at your husband. Loki raised his eyes reluctantly from the floor to meet yours.

"Odinson, I swear," Your face tightened, and you propped your hands on your hips.

"Darling," He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, but before you could open your mouth the front door flew open. Jumping at the sound, you turned just in time to see a familiar flash of black fly up the stairs. Sharing a look with your husband, you darted up the stairs to your daughter's room. Leaning your ear against the door, you heard the sound of soft crying. You didn't have to look over your shoulder to know that Loki was right behind you.

"Sohvi?" You called softly, gently knocking on the door. The crying stopped.

"Go away, please." Your heart broke at the watery whimper coming from the other side of the door. You turned to look up at Loki in concern. He leaned closer to the door.

"Sohvi, love, open the door." You heard the shuffle of feet and stepped back when the door opened.

Daddy's girl.

You smiled to yourself at the thought, a smile that quickly fell from your lips. Sohvi stared up at you both for several moments with wide puffy eyes. Her lip quivered and with a whimper she shuffled forward and weakly reached for her father. Loki quickly scooped her into his arms. Wrapping her arms tightly around his neck she buried her face into his chest and sobbed.

Your heart seized at the mournful sound as you followed Loki into the room. He sat on the bed and rocked your daughter back and forth. Kneeling by the bedside, you combed your fingers soothingly through her hair and looked up at Loki with furrowed brows. He shook his head and kissed the crown of her head. After a while her tears subsided, and she turned in Loki's arms to reach for you.

"Oh, sweetheart." You wrapped her in your arms and hugged her tightly. You cradled her as best as you could while trying to maneuver the both of you back onto the bed. Loki wrapped his arm around your side, and you kissed the crown of your daughter's head. "Sohvi, honey, what's wrong?" You said quietly against her hair. Sohvi sniffed and pulled back to look at you with watery eyes.

"Why don't they like me?" Your heart broke.

"Why doesn't who like you, pet?" Loki's hand came to rest on her small back.

"The other kids." Wiping her nose with her sleeve, Sohvi hung her head with another whimper. Loki's eyes shot up to meet yours.

"I'm not a freak, I'm not!" She flung herself back into your arms with a loud sob. Over her head you watched as Loki's eyes darkened.

"No, Sohvi, no you're not." You said simply, running your fingers through her dark hair. She pulled back to look at you with fierce determination.

"Then why do they call me that?"

"Because you are above them." Loki's words came out coldly. Sohvi sniffed and turned to look at him.

"Really?" Her voice sounded hopeful. Raising a brow, you placed your hands over her ears and narrowed your eyes at him.

"Loki," You lowered your voice. "Now's not the time to be instilling our daughter with a god complex." You chose to avoid the sour look he gave you over your daughter's head and instead rested your hands on the sides of her face.

"Sohvi," You began gently, tilting her head up to meet your eyes. "You're a very special little girl, and sometimes, others don't understand that." Smiling softly, you brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. "Do you understand, sweetie?" Sohvi sniffed and shook her head.

"Not really, but okay." You sighed and wrapped your arms tightly around her.

"You just keep being the sweet, special little girl you've always been, alright?" Sohvi nodded and pressed herself further into your chest.

***

"Who do they think they are, tormenting my child!" Loki spat, throwing his shoe across the room. Sohvi had fallen asleep several hours ago, and now it was your turn to be getting ready for bed. With a sigh, you turned down the blankets and climbed into bed.

Loki shoved his hand roughly through his hair and furiously paced back and forth across the room. Folding your arms, you watched him intently.

"That's it, we're moving to Asgard." You straightened as he came to a standstill at the foot of the bed.

"Wait, what?" You leaned forward. Loki shook his head in determination and turned towards the dresser.

"We should have moved there a long time ago." You winced as he gripped the sides of the dresser, and you heard the sound of cracking wood.

"Darling, what would that accomplish?" You pushed back the covers and slid out of the bed. Coming to stand behind Loki, you wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your chin on his shoulder.

"She'd be amongst her people."

"I really don't think we'd receive a very warm welcome on Asgard right now." You said gently, running your hands down his arms to rest on his hands.

"Meaning?" His voice was tight.

"You know exactly what I mean."

"It might be easier in Asgard." Loki sighed.

"Children are children everywhere, my love." You brushed your thumb over his knuckles. Loki relaxed and turned to lean against the dresser, drawing you into his chest.

"They wouldn't dare tease a princess of Asgard."

"Let's discuss it later." You murmured, rising on tiptoe to nip at his jaw. Loki groaned, and his hands came to rest on your hips. "We'll go to the principle and have a talk." Wrapping your arms around his neck, you ran your nose slowly over his jumping pulse point and came to rest on the balls of your feet. "Don't think I've forgotten the last time we were in the principal's office." Loki's lips twitched and he tightened his hold on your hips.

"I seem to recall that you had your way with me as soon as we entered this very room, my pet." His voice lowered to a growl.

"Hm." You grinned and ran your hands across his shoulders. "Wanna give me a summary of what I can look forward to after our next visit?" You smirked up at him playfully, earning a raised eyebrow from your husband. Hooking his hands behind your knees, Loki easily lifted you into his arms. Locking your legs around his waist, you ran a hand through his hair as he pressed a reverent kiss to your collar bone before tilting his head back to meet your eyes.

"I'm not winning this discussion, am I?" He raised a brow and smirked. You returned the gesture and tightened your grip on his hair.

"Not unless you want a beautiful case of blue balls."

"You wouldn't dare, you minx." His eyes narrowed.

"Oh, my love, I think we both know, I'd dare a lot of things." You squealed as he tossed you onto the bed. Loki rested a knee on the edge of the bed and gave you a wicked grin.

"I'm sorry I can't give you a summary, my love, unfortunately I don't do anything in halves." He said in a low voice.

#loki x you #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki imagine #Dad loki #loki mcu #loki x y/n

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miinatozakiii · 7 months

Text

have we met before?

myoui mina x fem!reader ; fluff, angst

synopsis: you and mina are destined to meet in every universe, it’s fate, it’s inevitable—but that doesn’t mean the circumstances are always ideal for the two of you.

warnings: mentions of food

wc: 5.5k

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬

a/n: based on those silly little drawings on tiktok that also have my heart screaming and crying bc they're so cute but sad for no reason like stop pls you're just a silly little stick man why am i sobbing

“do you think we know each other in every universe?” you ask in a small voice, almost a whisper.

mina turns her head to face you, you’re still looking up at the ceiling, breathing slowly. “what kind of question is that?” mina responds, laughing lowly from the sudden inquiry.

“i don’t know, I saw it online,” you start, turning to meet her gaze—squishing your cheek against the mattress in the process. “something about people meeting in other lives and universes, it was pretty interesting.” you add sleepily.

mina’s arm moves to settle down on your shoulder while you lay on the bed facing each other. you look at her with a tired, warm gaze through weighted eyelids. mina softly drags her knuckles over your skin, it makes you sigh contentedly.

“so what do you think?” you press again.

mina just smiles at you and uses her fingers to push loose, messy hair away from your face. you hum groggily in response and lean into her touch.

“i’d hope so.” mina murmurs, looking at your drowsy state.

she takes a moment to fully take in your presence, then presses a kiss against your forehead.

“me too.” you agree, resting your hand over her knuckles.

in this universe mina has just moved into the city, relishing the beautiful, new environment as she strolls around the area.

there’s a couple to her right across the street. they hold hands and swing them gently while they laugh and gaze at each other lovingly—mina smiles at the sight.

mina spots a small restaurant from her peripheral vision, something about the plants growing around it catches her eye, as well as the simple design and lights in the front. she walks towards it, fixing her loose, gray shirt.

she watches a woman step out the restaurant, and that woman is remarkably appealing. the woman kneels down to pet the calico cat that sits in front of the calatheas plant, the woman’s thumb rubs the top of its head, earning a pleased purr.

the woman fetches a small can of water, quickly tending to the plants by watering them, and inspecting them a bit after.

mina makes her way over and catches the attention of the waitress in the apron—the same woman who had tended to the plants. She turns and smiles immediately at mina, setting the can down and greeting her.

“hi, can i help you?” she asks. the woman’s voice is enchanting, it’s soft and welcoming.

mina nods then eyes the rest of the restaurant, it’s quite cozy.

“yes, do you serve lunch?” mina asks.

“yes ma’am, come on in, i can find a seat for you. it’s not too busy at the moment.” the woman says, urging mina to follow her, “there’s only our regulars here at the moment, many empty seats for a lovely lady like you.” mina’s lips curve upward from the unexpected compliment.

the woman leads her to a little table near the window, a small pot occupies it and it holds a healthy-looking fern in it. the waitress hands the menu over to her with both hands—which mina accepts gracefully.

“i’m y/n,” you start, “i’ll be your waitress. i’ll be back in a couple of minutes, take your time.”

what a wonderful name.

when you return, mina has picked out what she would like to order. you approach the table with your signature grin—one mina finds very captivating, sweet, and cute. she has trouble keeping her eyes off your lips for a moment.

“ready to order miss?”

“yes. may i have a bowl of the glass noodles?” mina asks. you nod and started to write on the small notepad in your hand.

“yes ma’am, anything else?”

“green tea would be great.”

“alright. by the way, the glass noodles come with a side dish, any protein on the menu-“ you point to the protein options on the menu with your pen, “there.”

mina reads through the options: salmon, tuna, mushrooms, tofu, chicken, beef, shrimp, and pork.

“what would you recommend?” mina questions, making you think to yourself for a bit.

“my favorites are the tofu, it’s seasoned very well. you can never go wrong with tuna or salmon either, but those are just my preferences. all the protein choices are wonderful.”

“i’ll take the tofu then.”

“alright. so, japchae with a side of tofu and some green tea for the pretty lady in the corner.” you say as you charmingly smile at mina, “will that be all?”

mina giggles at your boldness, nodding. “do you always flirt with customers?”

“only the pretty ones that catch my eye—you’re the first to do so.” you admit.

“i’m flattered, y/n.” mina responds. you smile brightly from how she uses your name, and because she’s tolerant of your stupid flirting.

You giggle. “your order will be ready in a bit. i’ll make sure to pull at the chefs strings to have it out as quick as possible.” you say, “anything to satisfy the lovely lady.”

mina laughs at your comment then rests her chin on her palm. “thanks waiter.”

you arrive ten minutes later and snap mina out of her daydreaming, she’s been staring at the window and watching the people of the city pass by. she could get quite comfortable knowing that a lovely waiter is within a one-mile radius.

“your japchae and tofu, as well as your tea.” you beam, setting down her hot tea and meal.

mina smiles and the aroma of the food pleases her senses, so does the waiter’s delightful presence. the food smells wonderful, it looks delicious too. you nod at her before scurrying to help out the group of elderly men at the other side of the restaurant, they pat your shoulder and make you giggle. seems like your presence is something that everyone is fond of.

as you swiftly run a hand through your tousled hair, the lines of your face come into sharper focus, accentuating your features. the black apron around your waist becomes slightly taut as you tighten it, giving mina a glimpse of your punctilious nature. you reach for a soft rag and press it firmly against the worn wooden surface. the tendons in your forearm flex with each wipe, they’re quite toned.

mina's gaze lingers on your arm, drawn to the dainty tattoo adorning your wrist. it’s a subtle flower-like design, its colors blending seamlessly with your skin—mina thinks it’s cute.

but it's not just your appearance that intrigues her. there's something intangible about you, an inexplicable familiarity that fogs up her mind. in the short span of thirty minutes, you’ve managed to create a tranquil atmosphere around her with the help of your dorky charm.

it's as if you have a unique ability to make her feel instantly at home, even though she can't recall ever meeting you before. the way you carry yourself so casually, the kindness and warmth that radiate from you, all contribute to this puzzling connection she feels.

you hand mina the check after she finishes up, the price is not bad at all. you grab her bowl, small plate, and tea cup, balancing them effortlessly on one hand.

“can i pay with cash?”

“of course, let me put these dishes in the back. you can pay up at the register since it’s cash.” you respond, departing temporarily.

mina shuffles through her purse and pulls out a few bills, making sure to tip you generously for your wonderful service and lovely charm. she walks over to the register, you’re behind the counter with a strand of hair falling over your face and tapping at the screen.

“your total is fifteen hundred yen.” you say. mina hands you twenty-five hundred, making you raise your brows in surprise.

“i liked your service.” mina shrugs, bashfully avoiding eye contact. she puts her wallet back into her purse, and explains, “i just moved into the city, i’m really glad i ran into someone as sweet as you on my first day.”

you grin and feel a warmth spread across your cheeks, “is that so? i’m glad. i hope you like it here, i’d love for you to visit again. i wouldn’t complain if a beauty like you were a regular.”

mina’s lips turn, it’s hard for her to make eye contact with you. a small laugh leaves your lips as you take the money she had slid across the counter, carefully handling it then placing fifteen hundred yen in the register, and putting a thousand in the tip jar.

you beam at her again, “thank you, have a great day miss.”

“it’s mina.” she corrects politely, “my name is mina.”

“pretty name. fits you.” you respond, ears growing pink. mina laughs and waves at you with a gummy smile—it’s adorable and you want to see it again and again. butterflies flutter in your stomach from the sight of it. the elegant woman with the cute beauty marks walks towards the door, and as you sense this fleeting moment, your eyes search frantically for something that’ll have mina trudging back in the future.

spotting a pen and napkin nearby, you swiftly reach out, snatching them up in your trembling hand and scribbling a string of numbers on it.

mina steps outside and takes in the scenery of the restaurant, it fits the lovely, calm neighborhood that it occupies.

“wait! mina!” a voice calls out. she turns and spots you, rushing out the door and settling yourself in front of her.

you hand her the napkin you scribbled on. “this is my number, i’d love to get to know you more.” you say timidly as mina takes the dainty piece of paper.

“you’re cute.” mina boldly states, laughing softly, “this place isn’t far from my apartment, and the food is good. there might be a new regular here soon.”

“perfect.” you hum.

“thank you for the food, i’ll see you again.”

“see you, mina.”

a tender silence envelops both of you as you exchange a knowing glance, the unspoken connection blooming with a newfound sweetness. something about mina seems oddly familiar, weirdly comforting—you’re not one to flirt so easily, but the words had just spewed out your mouth every time you talked to her.

you wonder: maybe you know her in another universe, you remember hearing about that theory from one of the elderly customers. maybe you’re good friends someplace else—maybe more.

in another universe, a complex web of fate had merged your brother, jun, with mina—a princess from a kingdom that held tensions with your own. their marriage seemed to hold the promise of easing the strained relations between the two kingdoms.

jun, the epitome of the stereotypical prince, perfectly fit into the mold. women swooned over him and he possessed the necessary “princely” skills, he seemed to have it all. however, beneath his "charming” exterior lay a massive ego, pissy attitude, and a small, smooth, and pathetic brain. he carried himself as superior to you, despite his cowardice and controversial morals.

as for yourself, in this royal universe, you were less recognized compared to your stingy brother, but still held a significant position. while you may have lacked certain attributes expected from a princess, it honestly mattered very little since you weren’t in line to inherit the throne (you didn’t like the thought of all that work anyway, so you were relieved.)

a generous freedom was granted to you, which allowed you to develop an intellect that your brother desperately needed, and a great personality compared to the prick of a prince. admittedly, you possessed a prominent physical beauty, attracting numerous suitors, but they often drew back after realizing you weren’t just a stupid, submissive woman who they could boss and fuck around with.

you had first seen mina at the altar while she was getting married to your brother—a fate so cruel it makes you want to object, especially only hearing that she’s a soft-spoken, kind soul—according to your father.

something about her seemed oddly familiar, even as you watched from afar. she turned towards you only once, and you made eye contact in that brief moment. your brows creased when your heart recognized her, yearning for an odd reason. she turned back to face jun and you ignored the sensation in your chest, figuring that the feeling in your heart might’ve been the sorrow you had for this newlywed: princess mina.

you never have dinner at the same time as your brother, so you’ve never had dinner with the new addition to your kingdom. though this changes when jun is sent away for the night (for whatever “princely” reason, you don’t know, and neither do you care.)

you’re seated across from your brother’s wife, and this is the first time you’ve seen her up close and in person. she’s beautiful.

you find yourself captivated by mina's ethereal beauty, unable to tear your eyes away from her radiant presence. every curve and line of her face is a testament to perfection, leaving you marveling in awe.

mina’s features are more than attractive, they’re perfect—no painter could ever capture the full glow of her visuals. her lips look so soft, the way her silky, dark hair effortlessly flows down her shoulders makes you yearn to run your fingers through them, losing yourself in their silky texture. as she gracefully picks up a piece of salmon, the way she chews it delicately, you can't help but be captivated by her composure and grace—damn, you think, she even eats elegantly.

when mina’s eyes meet yours, you shyly look away at the strangely flustering eye contact, feeling nervous for whatever reason.

most women would feel a bit insecure, self-conscious, and maybe even intimidated in your situation. however, all you feel is an unspeakable attraction from your brother’s wife, which has got to be messy.

It gets messier when mina looks at you while you avoid eye contact, and you quickly pretend to be busy by gracefully picking up a piece of salmon and chewing it like a princess should (because mina is right in front of you).

mina observes you, her eyes filled with a deep curiosity while she tries to sneak subtle glances. it's evident that she recognizes the resemblance between you and your brother, but you’re definitely the better-looking sibling. her gaze lingers on the white ribbon holding half your hair up, rendering you even more fascinating in her eyes. stray strands of hair gently frame your face, and as you tuck them behind your ear, her eyes follow the movement with a mixture of awe and allure.

though you and mina have never engaged in conversation, the inscrutable (homosexual) tension between you two is undeniable, as if you were destined to meet.

“is there something on my face?” mina asks, voice soft and wow, even her voice is beautiful. she tilts her head when she catches you stealing a glance.

“oh, no, sorry.” you respond politely, “i just, um, noticed your beauty marks. they’re pretty.”

(you don’t know why you chose to compliment her now and here when you’re alone in this dining room and the tension is prominent—are you trying to embarrass yourself?)

“thank you, y/n was it?” the sound of your name being articulated by that delicate voice of hers is enough to have your cheeks burning.

“yeah, y/n.”

“you’re quite pretty too.”

you smile and poke at your salmon, “thank you.”

two weeks from that dinner, you find yourself meeting with her and spending more time with the lovely princess since her own joke of a husband can’t do so. mina was never fond of jun anyway, he boasted too much, and you were much more pleasing to the eye—and her heart.

you lead mina around the castle, holding her hand and dragging her to the large library in the east wing. you ramble about the books you’ve read, cheeks flushing lightly when you go on a tangent about romance novels. when you stop gushing about books out of fear of boring her, she urges you to go on, giving you that signature grin that makes your heart leap.

a few weeks after that moment in the library, mina finds herself situated in your own bedroom. it’s a large room, fit for a princess like you. the room smells like peaches and is tidy for the most part, though books clutter some spaces and it honestly feeds mina’s growing interest in you.

the ribbon in your hair is worked at with your slim fingers and your locks are let down with a swift motion of the fabric. you run a hand through your hair and lead mina to your bed, grabbing her hand and urging her to sit down next to you.

mina sits down and you hum, softly while you lean against the headboard of the bed.

“are you tired?” mina asks, and you shake your head.

“not really.”

“it’s quite late.”

“perhaps.” you say, turning over to face her. “you know, speaking of sleep. i’ve been having dreams about you.”

mina raises her brows and giggles, “really now?”

you hum, “yeah, it’s a flash of different scenes, different lives.”

“sounds interesting.”

“mhm.” you sigh, looking from the mole on mina’s nose to her lips. “we always end up meeting. do you think we know each other in every life? like, maybe there’s other universes where we’re… maybe we’re best friends in another kingdom, or maybe we’re commoners.”

“that’s a possibility. you read a lot of books, maybe they’re creating that fantasy world up in that brain of yours.” mina teases, subconsciously scooting closer to you.

your gaze stills on her face, you stay silent for a moment and mina grows flustered as you travel across her features with your look. your hand moves over to brush a strand of hair away from her face, and your thumb rubs against her soft, delicate skin—just below her left eye.

“an eyelash was there.” you say, and her cheek grows noticeably warm from the contact of your thumb on her skin.

“i had this one dream, you know…” you start, moving your thumb along her cheek and tracing the side of her face with your pointer. you lean a bit closer, and mina does too, she stares at your plump, soft, peachy lips. “we were really close, like this.” you practically whisper, voice lowering as you mumble.

“yeah?” mina asks, leaning closer. now both of you are staring at each other’s lips, bodies reeling in closer as if there were a string of desire pulling your hearts closer to each other.

mina tilts her head and her eyelids start to shut, you mirror her action and do the same. her cold fingers find your cheek and softly caress your skin, pulling you in closer for a kiss.

her lips are as soft as they look, warm against your own despite the chill of her fingers on your face—though they seem to burn into you the deeper the kiss grows. the locking of lips is dangerous, especially with mina seeing as she’s married to your brother and all. the two of you know everything will have to be behind closed doors, love can be difficult.

mina pulls away with lidded eyes and you whine in response.

“did we do that in your dream?”

“yeah, a few times.”

“déjà vu i guess,” mina murmurs against your lips, “i’ve had the same dreams,” she admits before sliding her hand down to your neck, gently gripping your hair and twirling it around her finger. she kisses you again, your lips recognize the feeling.

in this universe you’re on the way back to the ice rink. you’ve forgotten your bag filled with your shoulder pads and gloves.

you check the locker room and there’s nothing, but you do spot momo’s unlocked locker. knowing the clumsy, forgetful teammate, she had probably rushed out after getting a call from that sana girl she’s been talking to. the swooning lesbian had most likely left the building in a second, you’re using that against her for sure.

“where is it…” you grumble, wandering around the locker room and shuffling through every corner.

a sigh leaves your lips and you head out to the rink, it has to be there if it’s not in the locker rooms; otherwise, you’re completely fucked and your wallet might come to life just to kill you if you don’t find that dumb bag.

you step into the rink area, your face getting hit with the cold air of the room. the issue at hand is completely disregarded when your gaze lands on a figure gracefully gliding across the ice, her presence seemingly ethereal. her movements are an intricate dance on the frozen surface beneath, each glide harmoniously transitioning into the next. you’re captivated to say the least.

her body glides effortlessly, proof of her unquestionable talent. with every spiraling twirl and soaring leap, she effortlessly keeps your attention on her, you’re enamored. her skate blades etch intricate patterns into the ice, similar to the way yours hack at the ice when you speed through players to score a point during your scrimmages.

the woman stops and her eyes meet yours, making you redirect your attention elsewhere, reminding you of the reason why you’re even back here past practice hours.

she skates towards the gate that leads out the rink and you quickly walk away, scanning the seats for your blue bag. it has to be here somewhere; you prayit’s there.

your prayers were answered—a blue bag is spotted on one of the benches with the same shoulder pads you had used earlier, you let out a sigh of relief.

when you make your way back towards the door back to the lobby, you’re face-to-face with the same woman who had been skating—she had been the only other person here besides you at this hour, further emphasizing her devotion to her art.

she examines you carefully. your hair is still disheveled and your nose is also pink from the practice you had earlier. you’re wearing a comfy-looking navy hoodie, as well as matching, baggy sweatpants—though maybe a slightly darker shade. the blue bag is held over your shoulder, sitting along your back while you carry it.

mina swears she recognizes you, the messy hair that falls over your face and that dorky, awkward smile you shoot her is strangely familiar. maybe she’s met you at this rink before, that’s probably the case.

“sorry, did i interrupt you?” you pry, scared to have disrupted her elegant performance.

“no, not at all.” she responds. you look her up and down, eyeing the full black outfit she wears briefly before meeting her soft eyes and appealing features. you pause for a brief moment when you see the two recognizable beauty marks: one above her top lip and the other on her nose.

“have we met before?” you ask, curious as to why there’s a weird understanding from her.

“i don’t know, maybe we have.”

“you seem very familiar, i can’t put my finger on it.” you mumble, brows furrowing lightly.

“i- i thought that too.”

you put out a hand, “i’m y/n.”

mina reciprocates the gesture and puts her hand in yours—a strangely perfect fit, as if her hand has been there before.

“mina.” she says, staring at your hands making contact.

“do you always practice at this rink?” you question, interested as to how you’ve missed someone as eye-catching as her.

mina nods. “i usually practice later or in the early mornings.”

“that’s why i haven’t seen you around.” you hum, “i practice during late afternoons.”

“are you a hockey player?”

“yup.” you respond proudly, shooting a grin that makes the figure skaters own lips turn. you shove your hand in your pocket and find your phone, checking the time. “i’ll leave you to your practice, you skate beautifully by the way.”

mina smiles and you contemplate whether you should pry and find out more of her schedule just from seeing the curve of her pretty lips. “i’ll see you y/n, hope we run into each other again.”

“likewise. have a great night mina.”

“you too.”

you’re a lucky woman, very, very lucky.

you run into the beautiful figure skater two days later, and then two days after that, and somehow you’re running to her after every other practice.

quick conversation and small talk is exchanged between the short periods of time that you see each other, a friendship blossoms quickly.

mina, with her quiet demeanor, has always been reserved, even around her own coach and most people she interacts with. however, something about your presence makes her feel instantly at ease—as if you’ve known each other for years. your charm effortlessly melts her tension away, creating a comfortable atmosphere where she’s no longer limited to her usual three-word responses.

beyond her enchanting beauty on the ice, mina's personality shines in its own unique way. her lovely features are undeniably captivating, but it's the tenderness in her remarks and descriptions of her day that truly warms your heart. each word she utters, spoken in her soft and honeyed voice, forms an urge to know more about mina.

not even a month later, the two of you find yourselves in a small diner sitting across from each other.

your cheek is in your palm while you listen to mina go on about her recent fixations and interests—one being the legos that she had finally bought after eyeing for two months. you find yourself laughing at the way she talks about the plastic building pieces with such passion and excitement, your smile growing wider with each remark from the divine woman in front of you.

mina goes on about her dream of being a professional figure skater, that it’s been her dream since she was a litte girl. she even admits that she’d love to travel to other countries to train and learn more, she’s fond of foreign training programs. the success she craves inspires you, and soon after you exchange your own dreams of being in one of the big league hockey teams. you give mina a little background on yourself, explaining that you lived in canada for half your life, which also happens to be the same place where you started becoming infatuated with hockey. mina nods in awe, listening with intent.

the two of you ramble and laugh and smile and blush—it makes the two of you so amazingly giddy.

the date is cliché, something out of a movie: dinner with a beautiful woman, paying for her meal, and then driving her home—before she leaves, you kiss her cheek—she blushes and kisses you on the lips, leaving you in the car with a flushed face and a dangerously quick heart rate.

most of your relationships in the past—if not all, have been quite rocky after a couple of months, but that’s not the case with mina.

there’s a simple understanding between you two, as if you already know each other’s likes and dislikes by heart. you’re accustomed to mina’s mood swings and troubles, always being there if she needed a shoulder to lean on. there was a silent understanding, and mina was glad that she had you. mina is understanding when you explain your past and the difficulties of pursuing a hockey career, and once you’re done shedding a few tears you exchange your first “i love you’s.”

it's safe to say that being with mina has been the best time of your life, not even a year has passed by and she’s had you swooning more than momo had been when she first got with sana. you’re hooked, you’re in love.

there’s nothing that could break you and mina up, not with the wonderful communication and understanding of boundaries. you two were perfect for each other, there was no way anything could hinder the relationship.

“can we talk?” you and mina say together, surprised that you said it at the same time with the same uneasy tone.

“you go first.” you urge, mina shakes her head.

“no, you go.” she responds. you laugh to calm your nerves, to ease your worries, to stop the tears that start to well in your eyes, it works temporarily—but mina can sense the tension in the air, and it’s frightening.

you inhale, then exhale slowly.

“i was scouted, they want me in one of the best training facilities and teams in canada.” you croak out, a lump forming in your throat after you speak. mina purses her lip and you can tell she tries to stop herself from crying, closing her eyes and turning her head downwards.

“y/n,” she says, voice shaky, “they… they want me training in korea.”

you blink and tears spill, rolling down your face.

“i think you should take it, mina.” you say heartbreakingly, “you’re very talented, i know it would get you far. it’s your dream, i know how much you liked the training over in korea.”

“i think you should take,“ mina cuts herself off with a sniffle, “you should go to canada.”

the two of you aren’t lying, wanting the others to achieve their own dream, but the inevitable product is the two of you parting. that’s the last thing you want.

if you had known that you would’ve met mina earlier, she would’ve been your dream, you’d give up everything for her and mina would do the same for you. however, these offers are something that the two of you have been longing for, and even if your hearts may shatter by taking up these opportunities, the two of you know it has to be your choices.

you pull mina into your arms, a bittersweet embrace. her tears stain your t-shirt, yours seem to stain hers as well.

“i’m sorry.” mina cries.

“don’t,” you sob, “it’s okay, we’ll be okay.” you add, though you’re unsure yourself.

the distance is impossible, and it’s already difficult to spend more than three hours a day with each other now, so thinking of how it would be while you’re thousands of kilometers apart has you holding onto mina tighter, knowing that you’ll have to let her go.

your flight leaves in less than two hours, and you still have to go through baggage as well as security.

a tear slips down your cheek as you hold onto mina, you don’t want to let go, you can’t, but you have to.

you two had a long talk filled with tears and runny noses about how this would go down, and you decided to spend the last few days together, savoring and cherishing the last moments of each other’s presence. sure, the two of you could see each other now and then, but it would be too hard to keep a long-distance relationship going when your schedules are full and your bodies are tired. the time difference doesn’t help either. it just won’t work out, no matter what obstacle you tried to work around, it was evident that this wasn’t going to cut it with the new circumstances.

so you two decided to do what was necessary: break up.

mina pulls away with tears spilling down her face, she’s wearing the sweater you gifted her on her birthday. it makes you sniffle.

“i’m going to miss you.” you say in between tears, “too much.”

“me too.” she says. her nose is red, eyes pink, and her bottom lip quivers.

“i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, i wish we could-“

“y/n, i love you. i want you to achieve this dream.” mina cuts you off, “i’m willing to let you go for it to happen.”

“i’ll love you forever.” you cry, “whatever happens, there’s always a space in my heart for you. when you make it to the big screen, i’ll cheer for you. promise”

mina closes her eyes and wipes her tears, “and I’ll do the same. god, y/n… i love you so much.”

“don’t say that, please my nose is getting stuffy,” you say, trying to lighten the mood. your voice cracks, it’s shaky. “i promise in another universe or something like that, everything will work out, and we won’t have distance keeping us apart. in every life i swear mina, i swear i’ll find you, we’ll meet and we don’t have to part like this and- fuck, god i can’t do this.”

mina laughs, it’s not out of amusement. she’s going to miss your dorky little rambling. “you’ve been watching too many marvel movies.”

“stop that,” you sigh, smiling in between tears. “but I swear, I will.”

“is that a promise?”

“yes mina, yes.”

mina smiles again before tip-toeing to kiss you, you get the faint taste of her salty tears. the kiss is quite long, both of you not wanting to pull away, not wanting to part.

your hand lingers on mina’s cheek, it’s soft on her skin, she melts into your touch one last time.

“i love you always.” mina says, using her own thumb to wipe away your damp, pink cheek.

“me too.” you rasp, “always and forever.”

#twice x reader #kpop x reader #twice imagines #twice mina #kpop fluff #twice angst #myoui mina #myoui mina x reader #mina x reader #mina imagines

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ilovehugslikealotalot · 1 month

Text

A FOOL’S LOVE

req: basically r pulled an Emily and died on everyone, just to add to the trauma she died in Emily’s arms because that’s a great start to a Emily Prentiss x fem!r fic right?? So, she not dead really but people don’t know that. Basically Emily’s just missing her more than usual until the Attorney General reveals that y/n had been on a mission and stayed low. Nobody in the team knew about it, in order to make sure there were no distractions at all. Emily basically just doesn’t know how to feel.

WARNING: angst, sad!emily, r is gone for 8 months, reunion, betrayl?, trauma bc it’s Criminal minds, cursing, implied smut, wife!emily

Today marked the anniversary of y/n’s death. In truth, all of the team died a little that day, it was just a matter of how much. For most it took over a month, at least. For Emily..no, she couldn’t get over it.

She found herself at the Shooting range for hours at a time just trying to get her mind off of the hell she was living.

No matter how hard she tried, she experienced the love of her life die in her arms. It haunted her more than anything in her life had. She once told some, “After being assaulted, drugged, and killed in the line of duty, I figured what’s the worst that could happen.”

This. This is the worst.

She could still vividly remember the smell of blood that overloaded her senses, she could hear her own screaming, she tried so hard to stop the bleed but it just kept coming. ———

“no, no, no, no. Baby, stay with me, please!” Emily sobbed, she tried putting as much pressure as she could as she screamed for a medic, someone, anyone to help her.

“Em, hey, look at me..” she said weakly, holding her wife’s face, “Calm down, it’ll be alright” she whispered, brushing her hair out of her face. Blood covered her vest, sirens glared outside, “Help is here, you’re going to be okay! I love you so much, please don’t die on me, I can’t lose you too” Emily held her close and sobbed, she could feel your breathing become shallow. The paramedic swiftly but quickly took y/n away. Leaving Emily soaked in a pool of her own wife’s blood.

———

“Emily? You get that?” JJ asked, holding her arm, the section chief nodded and skimmed through the file. “Okay so, the Attorney General asked us to take a rest from cases and finish up some reports and paper work. We all have a meeting with her back here at 7:00” Emily announced, Shooting up from her chair and walking to her office locking it behind her. Her blind were already shut so she just plopped down on her chair.

She felt a burning in her eyes as she flipped through files. Her breath seemed to get caught in her throat while her vision blurred. Emily gripped her pen, angrily snapping it and throwing it down on te ground the ink splattering on the ground next to her, it was red, reminding her of the blood…so much blood. Affer y/n’s death, she wasn’t really the same, she was the shell of the person she once was. Her temper was shorter and her work hours seemed to add up.

She was almost never home the smell reminding her of y/n and the love she could never have again. But, she came home most weekends wanting to just sleep in her clothes all day. The house wasn’t a mess because she hadnt touched anything since she died that day. But she did get the strength to clean dishes once in a while. But there was never much considering she lived on coffee and granola bars.

Emily stared at the framed photo of her and y/n reminding herself that they never got the chance to start a family. They were thinking about adoption and hopefully raise the kid as their own.

She let out a sob, her head in her hands as she wailed, her throat closing up as she struggled to compose herself.

She couldn’t do this.

No, not without her

The night that y/n passed on was the hardest, she refused to believe she was gone, telling herself that it was just some sick joke. She cursed everything and cried for months blaming herself for not acting quicker. Some people told her to just move on, Emily had lived without her once, she could do it again.

No. She couldn’t just move on. That was before she knew that y/n was the one person that she needed, the one person that she truly wanted. Her heart ached if she was gone from her for even a moment, she couldn’t last a day without giving her a call. At this point she must’ve called her so many times, each time she held onto the hope she would answer. That her sweet voice would be at the other side.

It wasn’t possible to forget her wife, not when she gave her so much to remember. It pained her that she waited for a love that would never comeback, she was pissed at the world and herself.

It should’ve been her instead of y/n that night, she could vividly remember the sound of y/n’s laughter which quickly melted into horrified and pained screams. She could hear the killer’s voice in her ear, he taunted Emily and blindfolded her, letting her only hear the screams of terror as he stabbed her wife. Her y/n.

She could’ve untied the ropes faster, gotten her to sit up off of the floor faster, she could’ve killed him sooner.

Emily clearly recalled y/n telling her to move on and be happy, it was the only thing she asked of her before her passing. How could she ask such a thing?

Emily practically fell in love the moment she saw her, how could she ever feeling the same way about someone else. No one could replace her. Ever.

Thinking back to the memories, she sniffled but smiled a little knowing not all of her was gone.

————

“Oh, Emily this is our new Agent, Y/n Y/l/n” Hotch introduced, letting y/n shake the other woman’s hand, “Hello, it’s so nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard of your case, you’re brilliant” she complimented, drawing a deep blush from the older woman. She stuttered for a second trying to register the words. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you too, I’m Emily Prentiss”

It wasn’t long before the team began to meddle with their blossoming love, JJ, Garcia, and Rossi being the most active with their witty remarks about the two. It wasn’t long before Hotch left and Emily stepped up that they got together.

It was supposed to be a secret, that was until Emily forgot to lock the door mid make out session and Tara happened to walk in.

———

She wiped at her eyes, trying to stop the tears from falling like rain. It was close to the meeting and she couldn’t let anyone see her like this. So, she cleaned herself up and stepped out of her office for the first time that day. Tara was the only one in the bullpen, the others, she assumed were out somewhere getting coffee.

“Hey, you been crying again?” The doctor asked, opening her arms up for the other woman. Emily nodded, fighting back the resurfacing tears. “I know it’s the anniversary of her death, Em. If it helps, I’ll come with you to her grave after the meeting” Tara smiled sadly, the team all came in, JJ handing Emily a warm cup. Deep down, they all felt sorry for Emily. They knew how much they loved each other and how much they’ve sacrificed. As 7:00 approached they all filed into the debriefing room, an extra chair was out for the Attorney General, Deborah, and there was an empty chair next to Emily. Y/n’s old chair..

As much as they hate to admit it, they pretend she’s still sitting their with her giddy smile and optimistic nature. “Hello, Agents, I thank you for coming in,” Deborah said with confidence and authority radiating off of her, “As you know, Agent Y/l/n had sadly passed on the field approximately 8 months ago, it has also come to my attention that you are all aware of Project Morning Glory, correct?” They nodded their heads some flinching at the mention of y/n, who they all had tried to not think about all day.

“The Project has been fulfilled and the target has been neutralized. We needed absolutely no distraction for her whatsoever, so I ordered for her to fake her death” Luke was the first to speak out, “what?” He let out a sigh of relief and astonishment, “she’s alive?”

”Yes, Agent Alvez, y/n is very much alive” Everyone was completely and utterly flabbergasted, Emily blocked everyone out the thoughts in her brain being incoherent as she played it all back to the moment she held her wife close, screaming at the Lord above for any kind of help. “I saw her bleeding out, I smelled the blood, I felt her go limp, she’s dead” Emily had refused to believe it, the tears pooling in her eyes for what seemed like the billionth time that day. She had been close to accepting that that she was gone, now this?

“If you have concerns, please, direct them toward me-“ Deborah began but was sharply cut off by a hurting Emily Prentiss. “Concerns? I have concerns, alright! For 8 months my team has been struggling, I’m struggling!” Emily stood up from her seat, her hands gripping the round table. Everyone lowered their heads a bit, even though her wrath hadn’t reached it’s peak yet. “Case after case, do you know what we’ve gone through? The sacrifices? Yes, I have concerns!”

JJ felt tensions rise, as she picked her head up to see Emily spilling tears, “I begged for her to come back. As a shadow, even in a dream. You took my wife from me, you are sick” Emily said through gritted teeth, the Attorney General looked guilty for a moment before smiling at the door.

“Agent Y/l/n, it’s nice to see your face”

Emily frozed, she wasn’t ready, when everyone turned around and cried during the reunion, Emily didn’t turn, the 8 months she had replaying in her head in a constant loop. Her lack of motivation and depressive episodes got worse, she needed y/n and now it seemed like she was just stabbed the in the back.

Nothing could stop this Internal war she was having with herself, she couldn’t believe her ears, it was like she wanted to move but her body refused to. “Emily? Honey?” Y/n called out, her sweet voice a little more tired sounding. Her hair was still the same, assuming she had to maintain an image while being undercover as a secretary to a high-stakes business man. A small cut was above her forehead, her lips were swollen light she had just taken a beating. She had hoped for a more sweet reunion but deep down she knew Emily needed time.

Emily was angered, she couldn’t take the sight of anyone, so instead of getting a sweet kiss and a long hug she stormed out her head full of thoughts she could hardly process, while people tried calling out or going after her, Y/n stopped thme knowing her wife would need time. ——

In her office, Emily knocked her files off the desk with a loud grunt, she slammed her fist down on the desk and yelled cursed as she tore books from the sheleves, and even threw the framed photograph of her and y/n across the room. She rested her herself on the table behind her desk. She sighed, as she felt a cut on her knuckle she brushed it off and sniffled, straightening her blazer when the door opened.

“Emily? I know you might not be ready to talk, I just wanted to let you know I was sorry, I was going to reject the offer but he was gonna go after you, I just…I couldn’t risk that.” Y/n admitted closing the door softly, noticing the room looking like a tornado had hit it, she smiled softly seeing the framed picture and picked it up.

“I mourned you, I lost the one person I loved most in this world, I finally got what I wanted, what I needed. Then, you just got ripped away from me, I couldn’t handle it” Emily sobbed, hurriedly walking over to her wife and sobbed between words, “I couldn’t move on, just thinking about it made me sick, I blamed myself for it everyday, and every night the same nightmare.” The emotional state the Unit Chief was in was overwhleming to say the least, the woman was shaking as she buckled at the knees. “I’m here to stay, for as long as you’ll have me”

“Stay forever then?” She sniffled, kissing her lips softly, the world disappearing around them, right now, it was just Emily and Y/n, no cases, no missions, no death. Just love.

#emily prentiss x female reader #criminal minds #emily prentiss #i love her #tara lewis #jennifer jareau #omg i love this #matt simmons #spencer reid

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reputationmunson · 1 year

Text

In This Together | Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: The beginning of your journey through parenthood with Eddie

Content: pregnancy fic (reader finds out she’s pregnant), mentions of nausea and throwing up, fluff, use of y/n

Word Count: 1.9K

a/n: so this is the first part “series” and if you have any requests/things you would like to read for this please let me know and i will be more than happy to oblige!

For the past week, life has been throwing you punches left and right.

On your way home from work one night, your car decided that in the middle of a thunderstorm would be the perfect time to break down. Luckily, your mechanic husband came to the rescue. Unluckily, he ordered chinese takeout for dinner to cheer you up, which led to you getting food poisoning.

You’ve had to call off of work for the past five days due to being ill. Somehow, Eddie must’ve skipped on the side dish of foodborne illness because he never ended up getting sick.

Eddie has been picking up a few extra shifts this week because you were so stressed about missing work and the effect that would have on your paycheck. Honestly, money hasn’t been much of an issue lately, but he insisted on working so his chance for a promotion would increase.

You’ve been an emotional wreck without him lately. Every time he leaves you feel like he’s going off to war and you have no idea when he’ll return. He thinks it’s adorable while you think you’re going insane. Sometimes throughout the day you’ll spray his cologne, even though the scent has been making you a bit queasy for some reason.

You haven’t been able to keep any food down, so you decided to give your mom a call and ask for her special soup recipe. She always made it when a friend or family member was sick and you swear it has healing powers.

“Hi, mom. it’s me” you say, voice hoarse from all the throwing up.

“Hi, sweetie. you sound awful, is everything okay?”

Tears immediately fill your eyes when she asks. Your period must be coming soon because your emotions have been all over the place.

“Not really. I’ve had food poisoning and I can’t keep anything down, so I just wanted the recipe for your soup”

“Oh, honey. Is Eddie there to make it for you?”

“N-no. he’s working like all the time recently because he’s up for a promotion and I just miss him so much that I think I'm losing my mind and I'm also starving but the thought of eating anything makes me want to puke '' you sob.

“y/n, are you pregnant?”

“what? no i’m not preg-” your voice drifts as realization hits you. You missed your period last month, but chalked it up to stress and this month is halfway over and you still haven’t gotten it.

“y/n? are you there?”

“y-yeah i’m here. I just, um, I think I need to sit down.”

“I’m coming over, honey. don’t worry everything will be okay”

In shock, you hang up the phone without saying another word. Could you really be pregnant? I mean, let’s be honest you and Eddie go at it like rabbits, so it shouldn’t be a surprise, but it is.

You and Eddie have discussed having kids on many occasions, but you both agreed to wait until the time was right. You wanted to move into a bigger house, nothing too fancy that you’d be paying off for the rest of your lives, but one big enough for your little rascals to run around. All you ever both wanted was a house filled with love and laughter, no matter how big or small.

After anxiously sitting in silence, your mom walks through the door with handfuls of grocery bags and she looks just about as frazzled as you do.

“yep. you’re pregnant.” is the first thing she says and you groan. “how do you know? Are you secretly psychic or something?”

“all mothers are psychic, you’ll find that out very soon. So, I bought all the fixins for my soup, three pregnancy tests, and a gallon of water. Drink up, i’ll start cooking”

You pour yourself a glass of water and chug until there isn’t a drop left in the cup.

“I can’t believe I’m gonna be a grandma! Between Eddie’s hair and your eyes, this baby is going to be beautiful.”

“Alright, I’ll go take the tests but please don’t get your hopes up”

In reality, you had your hopes up too. The thought of having a baby that was a mix of you and Eddie was the most amazing thing you could ever think of. You hoped they’d have his eyes, which if your kid is anything like their dad, they will use those big, brown eyes against you.

Maybe this hypothetical baby will even have a passion for music and Eddie can teach them how to play guitar. You can see it now. Your baby wouldn’t even be a year old before Eddie tried to form a family band.

“Don’t look at the first test until you take the other two!” your mother shouts as you disappear into the bathroom.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself after you're done and the anticipation is killing you. This plastic stick is holding the answer to your future and you still had two more to take before you could find out.

Almost a gallon of water and three pregnancy tests later, the pink sticks lay face down on the bathroom sink counter.

“Will you look for me? I can’t do it”

“Let’s do it together, okay? This is a wonderful experience” your mom squeezes your hand and you try to gather yourself.

On the count of three, you each pick one up and you gasp when you turn it around.

Two pink lines

Two. Pink. Lines

“It’s positive!” you shriek, anxiety replaced with glee. “Are they all positive?” you scan over all three and they show the same result.

You start to cry again, but this time it’s happy tears. Like the tears you cried when Eddie told you he loved you for the first time, then again when he got down on one knee, and also when he vowed to love you for the rest of his life no matter what, a promise he’s yet to break and you are confident he never will.

Your mom also begins to cry tears of joy while giving a hug. She was right, this is a wonderful experience.

When the thought crossed your mind during the phone call earlier, you were horrified. Now, you realize there’s nothing to be scared of. You’re having a baby with the man you love more than anything.

“When are you going to tell him? I don’t know how long I can keep this in!” she exclaims

“I’m telling him tonight I don’t think I can wait longer than that. But, please don’t say anything to anyone until we’re ready”

“I won’t. Now, tell me how you’re gonna tell him!”

Once your mom left, you decided to make yourself more presentable and set up a nice dinner for when Eddie got home. He would be home any minute and you were oozing with excitement.

The table was set, soup was on the stove, and you had put the tests in a gift bag with some tissue paper.

You had no worries about Eddie reacting badly to this news and not only did that soothe your nerves, it also reaffirmed that being with him was the best decision you ever made.

You hear his vehicle pull into the driveway and you scurry over to the door, ready to greet him the second he walks in.

“Eddie!” you squeal, throwing your arms around his neck right when he comes inside. “hey, baby” he arms wrap around your waist and pulls you into him. “How are you feeling?” he pulls back slightly to put his hand on your forehead to check if you have a temperature.

“So much better now that you’re home” you nuzzle into him and bask in the feeling of his presence. “Sweetheart, you didn’t have to make dinner. you’re sick” he pouts and you can’t resist the urge to kiss him. He tastes like spearmint gum with a hint of the chapstick you force him to wear because his lips are too pretty to be chapped.

“My mom came over and made it, actually. she says hi, by the way” you lead him over to the couch and sit down. “Her special soup? fuck yeah” he says and you giggle at the enthusiasm.

“So, I was gonna wait until dinner but I have a present for you” you say, giddily. “A present for lil ol’ me? oh you didn’t have to, darlin’” he says in a fake southern accent. “Stay here, you goof”

You return to the living room, gift bag in hand and a big smile on your face. Eddie hasn’t seen your smile much since you got “food poisoning” and it’s the best present he can think of. For now, at least.

“Don’t just stare at me! Open it!” you excitedly demand as you stand in front of him where he’s sat on the couch.

“you’re just so goddamn pretty. i missed that smile” fuck, you love him so much. If you weren’t so nauseous and in anticipation for him to find out you're pregnant you’d take him to the bedroom and show him just how much you appreciate him.

“Eddie, I love you, but if you don’t open it right now I’ll make sure to never smile again” you threaten and try not to smile, but you can’t help it. After all these years, you still feel the same way you did on your first date with him. Absolutely lovesick.

“Jeez, no need for threats, Mrs. Munson” he teases and you playfully roll your eyes.

He tears through the tissue paper like it’s christmas morning and stops in his tracks once he looks in the bag.

“Is this?” He pulls out each test and stares intently at each one. “Are you?” He looks up at you with wide eyes and apparently he’s lost the ability to form a sentence. “yeah. we’re having a baby” and here come the waterworks again. Damn hormones.

His hand rests on your stomach and you cover his hand with your own. “Are you okay with that?” you whisper and he stands up, hand still on your belly. “I’m - fuck- I thought I’d be scared shitless when this day came, but I’m not. Are you okay with this?”

“I’m a little scared when I think of things like how we’re gonna have to move eventually and ya know, the whole childbirth part that’s probably gonna rip me to shreds, but I’m happy. Really happy”

“Me too and I think I’m gonna get that promotion to manager, which comes with a huge raise. We’ve been saving up for this since we got married, babe. We’re gonna be fine, okay?”

“I’m gonna get huge” you whine and he chuckles then presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I know. think about how big your tits are gonna get” he jokes. “Eddie! this is supposed to be sentimental!” you chide with a laugh. “But, seriously. Are you still gonna love me when I'm all swollen and grumpy? or when I make you get me ice cream at two in the morning?”

“First of all, you already make me get you ice cream at two in the morning. Second, you’re carrying our baby. If anything, I'm going to love you even more” he promises and pulls you into a loving hug.

“Is it okay that I’m somewhat terrified?” you ask, words a little muffled from your face being buried in his chest.

“I am too, but we’re in this together, yeah?” he assures you.

“yeah. together”

my baby fever has been through the roof lately i can’t wait to write more of these :)))

#eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie x mom!reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #stranger things fic

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upat4amwiththemoon · 8 months

Note

i need some wanda angst ANYTHING PLSS

Wretched mirrors

Summary: Mom, are your arms open tonight?

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x daughter!reader

Warnings: angst, cursing, complicated mother-daughter relationship, bad mental health

Word count: 2259

a/n: you asked for it

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore @sayah13 @wandsmxmff @emsmultiverse @natashamaximoff69

masterlists | guidelines

Wanda hums a Sokovian lullaby with a smile on her face, as she braids five-year-old Y/N’s hair into a french braid. Y/N is swinging her legs, as her short feet can’t reach the floor yet, while she’s watching Bluey. Sometimes she giggles at the characters ok the television, and sings the opening song with them, clapping when the episode starts.

Every once in a while, Wanda has to set Y/N’s head back into a good position, so she can actually braid her hair, buy she doesn’t mind. This is her favorite time.

It’s early morning, the sun has just risen. There’s porridge in the pot, ready for them to eat once the braids are done. Birds are chirping outside and Wanda is spending time with her little girl. And she loves that little girl with her full heart. Her eyes are so innocent and big, they shine every time she learns something new. Her hair and skin is so soft, Wanda loves to hold her close as much as possible. Her tiny nose and chubby cheeks are perfect for playful pinching. She’s perfect. She couldn’t have asked for a better babygirl.

“All done, Y/N!” Wanda crouches in front of her, looking at her handiwork. “You look so cute, baby.” She smiles with her teeth and Y/N giggles. “Are you ready for breakfast?”

“Uhuh!” She raises her arms high in the air.

Wanda grins and lifts her up to the side of her hip. “Oh my goodness, how did my little girl get so tall all of a sudden?” She gasps, twirling them around.

Y/N giggles, “you’re holding me, mommy!”

“What are you talking about?” She gasps even deeper this time, lifting one of her arms up. “I’m not holding anything in this hand.”

“No!” Her laugh is like music for Wanda’s ears. “Other hand, silly mommy.”

“Is mommy being silly again?”

“Yes.”

Smiling, Wanda rubs her nose against Y/N’s. “Yes, she is, silly mommy. But guess what?” She grins, rubbing her cheek. “You’re my daughter, so you’re just as silly!”

Y/N starts laughing with her full body. The sound echoes through the house, making Wanda’s heart ache with joy. Her eyes tingle as she stares at her daughter.

Her daughter.

She’ll never get tired of saying that.

The pots and pans clang loudly as Wanda washes them. She’s using a lot more force than necessary for washing dishes. Y/N is sitting at the kitchen table, a math book in front of her and a pen in her hand. She’s trying to math work for school, but instead she’s crying.

“I’m sorry, mommy.” She cries out, too scared to look at her mother. “I’m really sorry, mommy.”

Wanda doesn’t answer. She slams a plate to the drying rack. Y/N is scared a dish will break.

“I didn’t mean to do so badly, I just didn’t get it.”

The tap gets turned off with force. “Do you understand how badly you embarrassed me?” Her voice is loud. She walks over and stops right next to Y/N, who is still too scared to look at her in the eyes. “Your grades have been so bad, the principal asked me if there are troubles at home. Do you at least get what that means, huh? It means your teachers think I’m a shit mother!”

“I’m sorry!” The tears are coming out faster.

“And then you start crying in front of the principal? You don’t do things like that!”

“You were yelling and I-“

“Oh, it’s all my fault again. I guess I’m the fucking worst mom then!” Wanda throws her hands in the air, walking to the living room and sitting on the couch. She turns the television on.

Y/N gets out of her seat, “you aren’t the worst mom,” she walks a few steps closer, trying to talk over the loud sound of the television, “you are a good mom, please. No one think you’re the worst.”

When Wanda doesn’t answer, Y/N drops down to her knees and start sobbing loudly. Wanda doesn’t stand up and come to comfort her, she doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t even look at her. All she does, is watch the show, and let Y/N cry, until the tears stop and she goes back to doing her math work.

“I think there’s something wrong with me.” Is the first thing coming out of Y/N’s mouth since they got into the car.

They’ve been driving for twenty minutes towards the campsite where Y/N will be sending a week with her friends. There’s still and hour and a half left to drive.

“No honey there’s nothing wrong with you, you’re perfect.” Wanda assures, fiddling with the control of the radio. She’s trying to find a good channel. “You’re just thirteen and a teenager. It’s all normal.”

“No, mom,” she lets out a heavy sigh, “I think there’s really something wrong with me. Something doesn’t feel right in my head.”

“You’re just tired.”

“But the tiredness is never ending!” She turns her head to look at Wanda. “Look at me, please, mom. I need you to see me. There’s something wrong with me and I need you to see it too.”

Wanda’s eyes stay on the road. “Stop saying that, there’s nothing wrong with you.” Her lips are in a thin line, and her brows are scrunched. She’s starting to get annoyed.

“There has to be something wrong with me! This can’t be who I am. Please, mommy!”

With sharp moves, Wanda drives the car to the side of the road and stops it. “Shut up, right now! You’re being so grateful right now. You had a good childhood, you got food and water whenever you wanted, you had a roof over your head and all the toys you wanted to play with. There are people with worse lives, who have actual problems. So either keep your goddamn mouth shut, or walk the rest of the way, do you hear me?” She doesn’t start driving against until Y/N nods.

The rest of the car drive goes in silence. Y/N looks out the window all the way to the campsite, fighting her tears while Wanda hums along the song on the radio.

Opening the door as quietly as she can, Y/N steps inside the house, slowly putting her shoes to the mat. She closes the door and starts sneaking towards the living room. She stops on her tracks when she notices the television is on. “Well, are you going to come in or not?” Wanda’s heavy voice comes from the living room. Not bothering to be quiet anymore, Y/N walks to the living room, where Wanda is sitting on the couch, watching the mute television. “Where the hell have you been?” She turns to look at her daughter, but all Y/N does is shrug. “Do you know what the time is?”

She glances at the clock, “three.”

“Three in the night.” She’s staring Y/N right into her eyes, and Y/N stares back. Her eyes are red, but it’s not from crying. She hasn’t cried in a long time.

“Fun.”

Wanda stands up, coming right in front of Y/N, so she has to look up at her. “What the hell is wrong with you? This isn’t the girl I know.”

“I’m not five anymore.”

“For fucks sake, Y/N, I know that, but you sure aren’t acting like a fifteen-year-old.” Y/N rolls her eyes and goes to walk away, but Wanda grabs her arm. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me. I am your mother and you’re supposed to respect me!”

“You don’t deserve my respect. You’re not a good person.” Her teeth are bared like an angry dog’s.

“And you think you are?” Wanda scoffs. “You’re my blood, so you’re just as bad. You’re horrible.”

Y/N is packing her things to two different boxes. One says to donation and the other to dorm. She’s nineteen years old and ready for college, ready to move away from her mother’s house. Most of the things in her room are already back, though she has to wait until tomorrow to actually leave. She’s taking the train to her university, not wanting to be in the same car with Wanda for six hours.

“Is packing coming along nicely?” Wanda appears to the doorway, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe. “I could help you out if you need me?”

“Uhh, I think I’ve got it.” She rubs the back of her neck, looking around her room. “There’s not much left.”

“Okay.”

They stand there in silence. Neither of them know how to talk to the other. Wanda never bothered to learn and Y/N gave up on trying. Besides, she couldn’t talk about the things she wanted to without crying, and she really doesn’t want to cry in front of her mom.

“Did you find any things to donate?”

“Some.”

Silence again. It’s making Y/N shake from the need to lay it all out for her. She wants to scream and throw things, but she just bites her lip. There’s no use. No matter what she says, her mother won’t lis-

“What do I have to do?” Y/N suddenly breaks the silence.

“Hm?” Wanda looks at her with a confused expression.

“What do I need to do to make you love me.” The silence is deafening. They’re staring at each other, but Wanda isn’t saying anything. She never does. “Tell me what to do!” Her voice gets louder, but Wanda doesn’t react. It makes Y/N angrier. All the times she was sobbing while her mother punished her with silent treatment coming to her mind. She hates silence. She can’t sleep in a quiet room anymore. “Tell me how to change myself to make you love me!” The tears start falling, and all Wanda does is stare. “Because it hurts, mom, it hurts so bad.” She’s getting desperate. She wants to hurt her, not physically, but the way she has hurt her. All she wants is for Wanda to feel the way she has always felt growing up. But instead of saying something hurtful, all she says is, “I’m sorry for being a bad daughter.”

Wanda walks out of the room, and Y/N wipes away her tears before continuing her packing.

After a few hours, Y/N is sitting on her bed, reading a book. A smell is coming from the kitchen, which tells her dinner is almost ready. She doesn’t want to go downstairs, at least not until Wanda somehow expresses she isn’t angry anymore.

Her whole body tenses when she hears steps coming upstairs. She’s holding her breath when Wanda walks into the room and sits behind her on the bed.

Y/N puts her book down, but doesn’t say anything. All Wanda does is set her head to a correct position and start making a french braid. There’s a piece stuck in Y/N’s throat as she sits there, it makes her whole body hurt, but she fights back the second set of tears threatening to fall.

Wanda’s fingers work in a fast and skillful pace, having done this multiple times. Y/N’s hair is longer now, and there’s a lot more of it, but still it gets done quickly. She puts the ponytail in place, kisses Y/N’s cheek and walks right out of the room.

Y/N takes the braid to her hand and holds it against her cheek. She starts crying silently. It doesn’t feel the same as it did when she was five years old.

Breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth, Y/N holds her phone in hand. There’s a small cupcake in front of her with candles that say 22 on them. She hasn’t eaten it yet.

Her hands are shaking and black spots are starting to appear in her vision. Whatever is wrong with her, is starting to get worse again. She thought she had gotten better after moving on her own, but it all came rushing back after the initial relief. It was manageable for a long time, but these past few months, she has started to feel like she’s drowning.

She’s afraid she’ll do something bad if she doesn’t get help.

Which is why she has been gathering courage to call her mom and tell her she want to come back home, that she needs to come back home. How she feels like she won’t survive if she’s all alone. She needs her mom.

“I need help, I want to come home.” She mumbles quietly to herself as practice before pressing the contact on her phone and bringing it to her ear. She waits for three rings before Wanda answers. “Hi, mom.” Her voice is quieter than usual.

“Hi, honey. Happy birthday!”

She’s tired.

“Thanks, mom.” She huffs out a laugh.

She’s just tired.

“How’s it going over there?”

“Hm, it-“

“Oh, you can’t believe what the weather has been like over here.”

Y/N freezes. She grips the phone tighter. “What has it been like?”

“Crazy. It was raining so much yesterday, and today there’s some kind of wind monster outside.” Her mother laughs. “What’s the weather been like over there?”

“Sunny.”

“Oh, isn’t that great! I wish we’d get sun more over here, I��m getting fired of…”

And Wanda continues talking. And Y/N continues listening. The phone call lasted for thirty minutes. All they talked about was the weather.

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