#IT IS VERY LONG YOU BROUGHT THIS ON YOURSELVES I'M NOT SORRY

[pseudowho]

Professor Higuruma: Part One, Star-Crossed

Leaving your job behind to study Law, you fall into the gravity of Professor Higuruma Hiromi. Soon, you find yourselves entwined in an affair so deep and alluring, you cannot see where Hiromi ends and you begin.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut from Part One, age-gap relationship (20s to 40s), 'thread of fate', tw- leaving an emotionally neglectful relationship, tw- alcohol use, wet dreams and daydreams

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The bottle would not draft his timetable, and as such, it remained corked. Hiromi's thirst extended past wine and warm bodies, to something altogether more elusive; an alleviation of his crippling loneliness-- that which ground him down to dirt.

Hiromi sat on his sofa, picking up the claret, rolling it in his hands, putting it down, running his fingers through his hair, clenching white knuckles against jittering thighs.

The week had been long. His Department was undergoing fresh demands for classes and time and curriculums and more, that Hiromi had not the staff to facilitate. With the new term about to start, and fewer professors than ever, Hiromi felt like the wick in the middle of a candle burning at both ends.

From the heated sneers that set to flame in the room around him, Hiromi wasn't the only one already balancing on a knife edge. He felt the frost crisp the earth around Nanami Kento, his Literature department already at the end of their tether.

If the rampant deep-seated loathing for the world in which he lived didn't kill him first, the stress would. The loneliness would. The drink would. The pressure would. The late nights would. The loneliness the loneliness the loneliness the loneliness--

Hiromi threw his bottle and responsibilities to the sofa. Too touch-starved for solitude, but too burned out for company, Hiromi grabbed his jacket and keys, and headed for his favourite bar.

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See you later? At the bar across the street.

Let me know when you'll be here.

Are you still coming?

Not dressed up, sorry. On your way?

Got you a drink. See you soon?

???

The Spring evening was too crisp for such chilly rejection. The sun had seemed hopeful, earlier in the day, and you hadn't brought a jacket. You felt the bite upon your exposed arms, a nipping punishment for your optimism. Whether he was here, or not, made no great difference; he had not given you his jacket in a long time.

He would come, you reassured yourself. You'd buy him his favourite drink, and he'd arrive late, all I'm so sorry baby, you know how it is, c'mere, I'll warm you up, with twinkles in his eyes like you'd hung his stars and his hand in yours and the life you had lived and shit don't cry you stupid bitch pull yourself together.

You scurried into the bar, embraced by your own arms, before ordering his favourite drink and yours, as if a summoning ritual. The bar had a happy thrum, warm with love and life, and you saw cherry blossoms drift across the torch lit balcony. It beckoned you. You remained, waiting for your spell to work, with your eyes on the door.

The torches dwindled. A barman went to refill them with oil. Your fiancé had not arrived. The ice in his drink had almost melted, and you sank into a sigh that shredded down to the very core of you. The first time you saw the man in the black suit, arriving on a thundercloud, and sitting a few barstools down from you, you registered him only briefly, past the knife in your gut.

Then, a pair of coal-dark eyes met yours. The torches on the balcony reignited with a whoomph, setting drifting blossoms to pink-spark ember on the Tokyo backdrop. Your breath caught halfway, the scent of smoky petals and spiced cologne on the sides of your tongue. The barest clink of ice cubes settling in the glass, cracked through the moment that time had paused.

The man in the suit opened his mouth, offering only the other half of the breath he had stolen. His hangdog eyes were so curiously expressive. A smile wrinkled his nose. You stumbled across yourself, pressing your fiancé's undrunk drink across the bar to the black-suit man.

"Would you like this? It's in need of appreciation." The black-suit man laughed, a breathy rumble.

"Is it indeed?" He took the glass with long fingers, and you followed the trail of a trickle of the glass's condensation, dripping down his finger's inner length, to pool at the junction between. "Will it taste bitter in the mouth of someone for whom it was not intended?"

You smiled, your eyes narrowing in tease. "It is a gift."

"Oh!" He uttered, laced with small joy. "Then it will be sweet." He took a sip, a vermouth-honeyed tongue darting across his lips with an appreciative hum. "Yes, quite. Welcome, little drink. There is joy to be found amongst the unwanted." You laughed, and Hiromi felt a curious yank upon his finger. He had fallen into your company, and could not get back up.

"I must be old," he laughed again, swiping commas of grey-streaked Inky hair from his temples, "because I've forgotten my manners. I'm sorry for pressing conversation upon you. Thank you for the drink."

You shook your head, without the appropriate words to express how a stranger had warmed you more in moments than you had been in years. Your black-suit man bowed his head, standing, and turning away before pausing. Fate rolled a dice.

"The balcony looks lovely. And, empty." Hovering on one footstep, his gait then steadied, and brogued black shoes clipped across the polished floor. You felt something fine and golden tug within your chest, as torchlight rolled across the black-suit man's disappearing shoulders. Another diceroll raised Fate's eyebrows.

You stood, hesitating between the balcony and the bar. The barman buried a scoop into some ice, watching two strangers interact with an oddly burgeoning certainty. He never interfered. Fate flipped a coin; how readily the stars did align.

"He likes red wine." The barman offered, nodding between your stuttering gape, and the void the black-suit man left in the doorway. You frowned, biting your bottom lip, unaware that your path had been decided before the words left your mouth.

"Then I like red wine, too." The barman smiled. He reached to a row of dusty wine racks above his head, pulling out a bottle with a glassy clink.

"Do you trust me?" The barman asked, placing the bottle before you with a muted thud. You felt a bubble of joy up your nose.

"I do, actually." You replied, awash with certainty as you paid, took two glasses, and headed towards the balcony. As you walked through the doorway, and firelight uncovered the gems hidden within your hair and eyes, your black-suit man smiled, and gestured to the rattan sofa opposite him.

As you sat, strangely comfortable under his gaze, in your state of plain dress, your black-suit man smiled over at you. He looked awkward for a moment, not trusting himself in his own shoes.

"...all this and I wasn't actually prepared for company." You both laughed. Your black-suit man watched you with a glimmer in his eyes, fingers plaited and clasped under his nose, leaning forwards on propped elbows. You struggled to open the wine. He huffed through his nose, your fingers brushing as you handed the bottle over with a scoff.

The man's eyes narrowed as the bottle opened with a brittle schtick; "Loosened it for me--" you laughed again, pinching your nose bridge, "--no no I mean it, I'm really very weak--" You rolled in your laughter together, with him babbling smiling reassurance, while he poured your wine.

"I have one condition to this rendezvous-- please can we not talk about work?" He groaned, clinking your two glasses together in his own hands before passing one to you, still warmed by fading laughter.

"Absolutely. I promise. No work talk."

He was older than you, by an uncertain amount, though you were no girl. You leaned on one palm, in easy silence as you smelled the petal-burst flames. He watched the aurora cast upon your cheeks, feeling his chest fill in a way he couldn't describe.

"...Hiromi." He offered. "My name's Hiromi."

"And it suits you. Should I remain a great mystery?" You gasped, melodramatic with one hand over your mouth.

"Appalling manners!" Hiromi shot. "You owe me a name."

"I gave you a drink! And a bottle of wine."

"Bullshit."

"I don't owe you a thing, in fact--"

The evening trailed away, all warm banter, easy laughter and lingering looks. The conversation grew sloppier, uninhibited, lubricated by wine, of which the bottles nestled, one, two, two and a half. Hiromi had laughed, as deep and rich and mature as the grapes, positively Dionysian, his laughter dying on his lips to catch you mid-shiver. He huffed into his glass, the scent of fermentation rolling back over his own face.

"Here." He dropped, lackadaisical as he sloped past on the way to the bathroom. You blushed to feel his jacket nestle, warm and homely, around your shoulders. He did not appreciate the enormity of the gesture, to you, as he walked away. On his return, you appeared muted, holding onto his jacket around with with two chilly hands. Hiromi felt a stutter in his chest, and sat down beside you.

"...are you alright?" He whispered, soft under the torchlight. Your head drooped onto his shoulder, your neck softened by wine, and he puffed his surprise, short and sharp across your cheek.

"I've had such a lovely time." You sniffed, feeling the clock tick far too late, and you had a busy day ahead, with the start of your new course, and you had to get home and prepare your mind for the beginning of a new life and--

"It...doesn't have to be over." Hiromi intoned, and your belly clenched as his voice rumbled through your core. Your head turned on his shoulder, your nose brushing his. Hiromi spoke again, stroking your nose with his until your eyes fluttered closed, having never felt more certain of anything in his life. "I...I've never done this, but...come home with me, just tonight, and--"

Your phone rang, shrill and piercing and you cried out, jolting away from Hiromi's touch. He chased your lips, his face twisting in a pain you didn't see, as you looked down at your phone screen, slurring.

"Shit...my fiancé..."

Hiromi's belly tumbled, sick with disappointment-- with something altogether more possessive-- and feeling that yank upon his finger, more insistent as he spoke, low and slow.

"Your...fiancé?" The words tasted rotten. Hiromi felt sick, bitter with the sudden loss, hobbled by the brutality of having gained the stars and lost them all at once. He watched you swallow, watched the flash of a wound reopening, piecing the puzzle together so fast now.

"The one who stood you up?" Hiromi toned, venomous with the injustice of the theft. You mistook the direction of his anger, and looked up, your face tight with apology. Hiromi shook his head, raising a hand. Your phone stopped ringing. A few moments passed before your phone buzzed. You read a message as Hiromi stood, turning on the spot, his hands cupped over his nose and mouth.

"You...shouldn't worry. I assume he's coming to pick you up, and I...thank you for such a lovely evening, it's been--"

You laughed without humour, eyes brimming with tears. You shook your head, and nodded, and shook your head again. Hiromi watched you, uncertain.

"I'll walk myself home. He's gone to bed." Hiromi paused, then scoffed.

"You're not walking home alone. Not a chance. Not like this."

He extended a hand to you. You took it, as if tied by the fingers. He held you, like this, all the way home to your cold bed.

You took each others' breath with you as you parted at the door. Hiromi was sure that his loneliness would not kill him first; the drink would not kill him first; the stress would not kill him first; the late nights would not kill him first; the pressure would not kill him first. Being taken to great heights, and then dropped in a dizzying fall, would.

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"Thank you for inviting me in." You whispered, smiling against the shell of his ear. In his bed, soft and open against his body, Hiromi sighed into your touch, your fingernails trailing across his scalp as he groaned. His cock throbbed, thick with promise.

"Couldn't leave you out there, naked." He mumbled against your lips, reaching under the covers to feel you and meeting only the cloth resistance of the mattress, but you were there because he could taste the wine on you, and you were opening yourself to him, he knew somehow.

"You're the one who undressed me." You said, your voice above him, but he was climbing above you, bracketing you to the bed while your voice whispered all around him. Hiromi felt his cock grasped, bucking forwards into the warmth and softness of it, chasing warmer and softer, and he begged you.

"Please you...never told me your name...let me in please, please--" He couldn't see your face with his eyes closed in this odd black moonlight, somehow within you and outside of you all at once. One more rock of his hips seated him within you, plush walls pillowy and smooth and all for him.

He groaned, low and desperate, rocking his cock inside you and he longed for you to welcome him with your arms, but any time he tried to draw them round him they flopped, useless, absent, so he urged you with his hips rutting faster, to pleasure you into holding him. Was it you crying out, or him? He couldn't tell, his pleasure mounting, pulsing through him in waves and why wasn't he trying to stop himself, he hadn't done anything for you--

Hiromi woke with a gasp, his pillow clutched between taut arms as he fucked involuntarily into the mattress, groaning into the mess of cum spurting between his sheets and belly. Hiromi's voice cracked, still lost in his dream, still spilling himself inside you in his mind. The blissful contractions of his cock dizzied him, surely the wettest dream he'd ever had.

Coming back to earth, Hiromi panted, face down in his pillow and a pool of his own sticky seed. His phone alarm rang. He groaned, feeling the catastrophic disappointment of the night before wash over him anew. Seeing the date on his phone in fumbling hands, sent another groan through him, and he buried his hooked nose in the pillow.

The new academic year began today.

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"Higuruma." More statement than question, Hiromi accepted Nanami Kento's proffered coffee as if being reminded of his own name. Hiromi took it, weary and silent, slouched at his desk beneath the crushing weight of having been scooped out in the middle.

Kento sat in Hiromi's visitor chair, regarding Hiromi with cool impassivity. He read the usefulness of any comments he could make, and set them aside for business.

"How do you plan on handling your evening classes? The high-school ones." Hiromi scoffed.

"Nanami, it is 8am on the first day of term, you cannot surely have a plan--"

"We'll offer assistant wages to one or two new First Years." Nanami said, before continuing, sniping and bitter. "If we must lose our Graduate Professors, and if we must host the accessibility courses ourselves, then at least the First Years can gain some income and some experience through teaching."

Hiromi rested his cheek on one palm. He stared Kento down.

"That...that's not a bad idea, actually, Nanami. I shall use that, I think." Kento and Hiromi inclined coffees and heads to each other, an easy camaraderie. Kento let the silence hang as Hiromi scribbled in his diary.

"I don't actually know how we'll do it, Nanami." Hiromi groaned, his face in his hands. "They make staffing cuts as if I can knit a new professor to take some of these classes. How much more 'self-directed learning' can I give these students? It's barbaric. They're being bled dry for this degree, and for what? So they can teach themselves? Shit."

Kento did not disagree, frosty again as the University Chancellors' departmental meeting montaged before his eyes.

"They're paying for a library, and the pleasure of our limited company." Kento sneered, as bitter as his coffee dregs. Hiromi sighed, trying to rub the alcohol away with his fingertips on his temples. Kento's eyes narrowed in cool regard, again.

"Home, or bar?" Hiromi grumbled, steepling his fingertips across his nose.

"Am I so fucking transparent?"

The faintest quirk lifted the corner of Kento's lips. He awaited an answer. Hiromi's head swam with the memory of you, interspersed with the false memories from the dream of being nestled between your thighs, and he felt his cock twitch. Hiromi shook himself out of it, sitting up and shaking his hands out with a huff.

"Bar, if you must know. It was...a late one." Kento hummed again. Hiromi did not elaborate.

"You should try harder to rest, before a work day. It is...irresponsible of you." Hiromi glowered over at Kento, Hiromi's junior by a good few years, quacking after him.

"Yes mother." Kento scowled.

"I could report you." Stony silence. Two chuckles in the office.

"No. You won't do that. You're my best friend."

"I don't have friends--"

"Shush."

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You recalled taking a day off work, on your fiancé's first day at University. You ironed his shirt the night before. You made him lunch, with notes and flourishes. You enjoyed a hot breakfast together, brimming over like the coffee pot about his future, while you worked to support him, and then your future, while he worked to support you. You had opened your arms to release him, and closed them around him on his return.

And god, you had worked, gruelling long hours for three gruelling long years, but despite the great chasm he had dug between you, you had brimmed over again when he landed his new job. A lucrative career. More than enough to pave your way, while he worked to secure your future--

He stayed in bed as your alarm went off. He accepted your affectionate nuzzles, before rolling away into the embrace of bed. Your fingers closed around nothing. You ate cereal. You packed your bag. You bubbled, low and alone. You wondered if he'd mind you slipping a banknote out of his wallet for your lunch. Your belly clenched with anxiety, and you packed a microwave meal instead.

You rocked, rhythmic with the clatter-back-and-forth of the train. Your eyes closed. Your music was soft. Though, not as soft as those coal-soft eyes, the gentle, brushing aquiline nose against yours, of the night before. Not as soft as the bittersweet ache of loss, of failing to know him better. The ghost of his touch soothed the stinging guilt, of wishing you had spent the night in his arms, instead.

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Hiromi was early to his first class, his nerves too frayed and electric to be anything other than hypervigilant. The lecture hall stretched up around him, an amphitheatre where he would slowly watch the soul and enthusiasm be sucked out of those wishing to learn Law.

He had held some optimism, years prior, that his own fractured soul (from years of systemic self-abuse in the Criminal Defense system) could be soothed by teaching the next generation of lawyers, solicitors, and barristers.

Alas, second to idealism, feckless optimism had oft been Hiromi's failing. Alas, the decaying state of education and academia could provide no such balm to his soul while it crumbled itself, and expected its professors to use their bodies and bones to prop up the teetering institution. The grind was different, but just as potent. Hiromi felt the crushing responsibility of leading his department through this storm, and wondered how many would remain on the ship once the rain cleared from his vision.

He resigned himself to filling his chalice with the immeasurable optimism of the fresh and uninitiated. Though under-subscribed compared to prior years, he was still excited to receive his first batch of students for the term. He hoped their passion could bounce off of him, and multiply, exponential.

While preparing his slides for the day, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, Hiromi heard the steady fill of the lecture theatre behind him.

He could not shake the ghost of your head upon his shoulder. He could not shake the taste of your skin from his dreams. He could not shake his regret, for not shaking you by the shoulders and insisting you deserved better, instead of delivering you back to the bed of a man who didn't appreciate the treasure within his grasp.

"I'll be with you in a moment!" Hiromi called behind him, waving one white-sleeved arm in a vague gesture. "Please be seated! I shan't be long."

The chatter crescendoed behind Hiromi, and he turned, clapping his hands together and affecting a smile and speech, gazing into the sea of new faces.

"Good morning everyone! Welcome to your first class. I'm delighted you have all chosen to study the Law-- it means the flow of the insane into our noble professions remains, as ever, consistent." A few smattered laughs from the audience. Hiromi grabbed his clicker, a slide slow flicking onto the great screen behind him.

"My name is Professor Higuruma, and while I will only be teaching you Case Law this year, today we shall talk about what to expect from your course, and--and..."

Oh, god. Those eyes, that haunted him. The body he had made love to while he slept. The shock, mirrored in your own eyes back at him, a participant in his new audience.

Hiromi's arm and mouth drooped, with the tug of the fine gold thread that you, too, felt. The night you had almost shared together passed across two pairs of distant, breathless lips. You felt every pulse, every nerve, every fibre of yourself skip a beat.

How readily had the stars aligned.

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Part Two, Interpretation, coming soon!

[sickuma]

SILLAGE — a Simon Riley fic. 2/2

❱ again this was an au first written on tiktok! this will be the last part of it, please keep in mind that it is all fiction and that if you're going through the same thing and are having the same thoughts, please seek someone you trust. Please fight for yourselves, you're worth it ꜝ？ Warning. . this is a heavy angst fic, mentions of suicide and acts of committing, if that is something that triggers bad emotions, please exit the fic.

paring is Ghost x Reader this is unedited! mistakes such as spelling and grammatical errors are to be expected !

Part 1 (^_^;)

SILLAGE — (n.) The scent that lingers in air, the trail left in water, the impression made in space after something or someone has been and gone; the trace of someone's perfume.

—hey [name]? I know I'm the last person you want to hear from right now, but I just really—

There was a short pause, as the voicemail erupts a slight static sound.

—I love you. That should have been enough reason. No, you were enough. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I was cowardly, I figured that you'll be happier and safer, being with someone who isn't me. Someone who isn't a soldier.

It was the same night he left your apartment. He swore to himself he would not come crawling back. To protect both of you, at the time, it had been the best solution for him. Until the midnight strikes, he remembered just how serious you looked, just how accepting you looked.

Too accepting.

—because who knows when one of these missions would finally take me out. I can't let you suffer through that, I can't be the one to give you that kind of grief. So I thought leaving you was the best option.

There was a dire pause as he thought of the best words possible to express himself. He’s never been one to do such, but for you, he’s willing to be better.

—it wasn't.

He spoke desperately, almost shaking from just how much adrenaline rushed through him. He had just argued with the team, and after a long hour of explaining to them what he needed to do, he was finally permitted to bail out on this mission, it’s not like he wouldn't leave without permission, that's how urgent this is for him, he needed to get to you as soon as possible,

Even he doesn't know why he’s in a rush,

Maybe it's because of your silence, the unanswered calls, and unread messages that brought him on edge.

—I love you, far too much, my love, to even think straight without you. I love you so much it's hard to breathe. I so desperately love you to the point it hurts.

The desperation and sincerity. It was all there. He knew if he couldn't let it out now, he won't let it out ever. This was his only chance of being happy.

You were his only chance for happiness. He almost couldn't believe he thought letting you go because of his fear was the best decision.

He stupidly let you go, succumbing to the fear of dying while you wait for him. He knows better, he will do better,

For you. Because you're worth changing for, you're worth the risk.

—please don't hate me. I know I was an ass for leaving in the first place, baby, I am sorry. You loved me so much that it felt so good, I didn't know I'm capable of feeling that way, so I was scared that worse would come after. I'm not scared anymore. You looked at me like there's something in me worth looking at,

He felt like he was saying so much yet so little at the same time,

He had so much to tell you but very few words to express it. He needs to be with you. He needs to see you and physically explain to you just how much you mean to him.

—I won't waste it, love, not again. Please open the door for me when I get back. 

He frowned, realizing once again just how idiotic he was. He knew he should not have done what he did, but it was over with. The only thing left to do is to make things right somehow.

—I've never been taught how to love, I have.. I don't— I'm not the best at it. I'm sorry baby, if I'm not loving you the right way, and for leaving just like that, but I promise I'll be better. you're worth the better of me, you're worth learning love for.

He needed you, and you needed him. That should have been enough reason to risk it.

—when I come back, please let me hold you. Please forgive me for making you feel like an option between my job. It's you. It's always been you. I love you, baby, wait for me. I'll make this right.

As the line cuts, the static sound fills the eerie room of yours. The very same room he had walked out from, the same room where you sat breathing hours ago. There were no other living sounds except for the occasional ticking of the clock.

There were no signs nor sounds of life perceived in the room. The silence was thick. With your lifeless body beside the bed in a fetal position, a bottle of used pills tightly wrapped around your hands. It was light, about three to four pills left inside a newly bought bottle.

It was dead silent as if the universe sympathized with you.

Allowing silence in regards to respect for what has passed, for what has ended.

﹑

“My family’s never been the typical joyous family, I guess that affected me, as a person in general.”

You explain, running your hand through his hair while his head laid on your lap. It’s one of those days where he’d be much affectionate compared to the majority of the time. He requested to hear about your childhood while he rests on you,

For a moment you felt your heart and breath hitch.

“I guess growing up in that kind of household really—really influenced my well-being. It's given me problems and worries I shouldn't have.” You were hesitant to continue, “Fear, I started having fears for a lot of things.”It's as if you caught a glimpse of his mind, taking in the details you've just given him.“Fears like?” 

The moment the question reached your ears, he could see your body tense. He understood, and he doesn't plan on pushing it.“You don't have to answer that, my love.” he smiles, “No matter what it is you're scared of, let’s face it together, yeah? You have me. That's enough, I hope.”

Little did he know that fear was yet to come. The fear of leaving soon, the fear of being unable to keep going. How could you ever explain to him that you don't plan to stay long?

﹑

With a ragged breath from exhaustion, he dropped his things once again, the same way he did before he left. Facing your door yet again, panting as a feeling of discomfort plagued him, why exactly? He’s finally here. Why is he so distraught, he wondered.

“[name]?” he knocks,

Swallowing the lump in his throat, his voice strained, and his state dishevelled. “[name] please—it’s me, please answer.”

The lack of response made him think about just how angry he made you,

“I'm sorry,” he whispers,

“I know I was stupid and irrational. I won't do it again, petal, please open the door.”

To say he’s nervous would be an understatement. What would he do if you never find it in you to let him back into the comfort of your arms? Will he return to the familiar cold he had forgotten when he met you?

“[name] I love you.”

He desperately spoke, yearning for an answer; the smallest sign of acceptance. 

It was odd. How quiet it was. Are you that mad? He wonders, but then again, he knew you’re not one to ignore, not even when you’re the angriest you've been. You would never shut him out, not ever. “[name], please, answer, or I'll have to go inside.”

“Baby are you okay?” no response.

Each passing second was like a countdown. He was uneasy and distraught. Afraid even.

The silence felt deafening. He was afraid of what? He had no clue what he was so afraid of, surely you're okay...

Right?

“[name], I'm coming in,” he says sternly, fishing the spare key he oh so gratefully forgot to give back. His heart thumps louder with each action.

The moment he entered, the creak of the door interrupted the silence. He felt like he was intruding on an abandoned space. It felt wrong. He knew something was wrong.

“[name]? I'm back, like—like I always am.” his voice broke, stepping inside, head looking around, hoping to find you and engulf you in his longing arms. “As I told you, I’ll always find my way back… right?”

He kept speaking while he walked, checking and opening every door. Starting from the small kitchen to the bathroom, checking everywhere until there was one room left. He dreaded it, for no reason he was scared and yet he rushed,

He spoke, no—he goes on a tangent, 

“I'll take the month off. We’ll do anything you want, anything to make up for this. I promise we can even get a pet, I always say no, right? This time, I'll agree, anything for you, my love just—”

The silence rung,

Apart from the sound of the door opening by his force, there were no sounds made, not from him, not from anything. He simply stood, dumbfounded at what the room unveiled; at that moment, nothing mattered, not even the breath he had held unknowingly.

A ragged chuckle escaped his lips, though it was hollow. As if he was desperate to know that maybe this is all some sick prank. Maybe this was one of your silly games he always put up with, “Baby? What’s this? Why are you on the floor?”

“Jokes over [name] get up—”

When it all came to view, he was silenced. The second he stepped closer, he saw how your body lay lifeless, how you held that bottle, and how his eyes drifted onto the lone tear, which evidently dried along the hours. 

How long have you been here?

In this state? How long has it been since you left him?

He couldn't feel. He couldn't grasp his head around the sight before him. He’s well familiar with death. He’s seen it before, and he’s lost comrades before, but nothing comes close to what lay in front of him. 

How does one react when their lifeline lies lifeless before their very eyes?

He couldn't approach nor speak. He simply stood with weak knees, tempting to give out. It didn't take him long to crouch, eyes wide open with lips parted slightly. There were no tears, no emotions, the moment numbed him. It didn't feel like reality,

There he crouched, just a few steps away from you. It didn't feel like his heart dropped. It felt almost worse, as if you'd taken it with you. How could this have happened? Did he cause this?

If you had told him a day ago that he would witness the person he loved the most laying on the floor devoid of life, he would have laughed at your face, punching you even. This isn't reality. This isn't a reality he wants to face.

It took every courage in his body to bring himself closer to you, afraid of what more he’d discover. With slow steps, he drew closer, grabbing your hand was the first thing he thought of doing. “Oh god…” his voice broke,

Your body isn't as warm as it used to be,

Not as he remembered. The warmth he loved when he would hold you against him, it’s gone. You're gone.

He had felt countless of stiff lifeless bodies and yet yours hurt the most,

The mere thought of it destroyed him. It hasnt sinked in yet, but he could tell. He could tell his demise is near. The realization will hit him in a short while. 

“Baby, im home…” this wasn't him. This was not his voice. Stuttering over the easiest words, strained with pent-up sobs. His chest felt heavy, almost making it difficult to breathe. 

Yet with hitched breath, he picked up your limp body and placed you in his arms, crushing your icy body against him. He held you tightly, but his hands cradled your body tenderly. It was as if he’s afraid of hurting you more.

Ghost was forever fearless, always facing whatever challenge was given to him, even his mortal enemy would know that he isnt necessarily the easiest solder to crack, let alone destroy and yet he finds himself sat on the floor holding the lifeless frame of his lover,

Cradling whatever is left of you,

Desperately holding onto what he can possibly hold on to.

The lieutenant everyone looked up on, admired and viewed as an admirable man, sat on the floor with a weighing heart. Holding back the tears that had formed without his knowledge as he held your body, 

but right now, he wasn't lieutenant simon ‘ghost’ riley.

At this moment, he was just simon, the simon you loved desperately, the simon who loved you just as insanely.

This person right this moment was your simon,

He wasnt anyone else, he was yours.

As he sat on the hard cold floor, thoughts roaming with his heart screaming, he felt like a mess, but that didn't matter. Words can not describe the regret, remorse, and stupidity he felt,

If i didnt leave,

If i didn't walk out that door,would you still have been alive in my arms?Would i still have to hold you soulless?

He held you closer, bringing you closer to him, as close as possible. He felt nothing but regret, nothing but anger for himself. Why is it that the very grief he tried to protect you from, the same reason he left, the same grief he avoided you to feel, why is it that he’s feeling it now?

His ragged sobs filled the room, and the rest remained still as if everything sympathized for him. As if the world understood the hurt he carried. He sobs, holding onto you as if doing so would bring you back. He knew nothing well, and yet he foolishly cried, hoping you’ll hear him and come back to ease the pain.

Like you always did.

At the corner of his eyes, he saw the letters piled not far from them. Without standing, nor letting go of you, he reached for it. Reading the names addressed on each, until he sees the one for him.

Of all the few letters he saw, his was the only one with tear drops which ruined the ink in front, almost unable to read, he brought it closer, dropping the rest.

Simon,

I felt everything.

Thank you, and im sorry,

I love you :)

Swallowing the impossibly heavy lump on his throat, he opened the carefully folded letter. He was met with even more tear drops. The thought of you crying, alone, while you write him a letter to bid him goodbye, crushed his soul.

He cant imagine a greater pain,

It felt surreal.

How could I..

How could I have lost you this easily.

With his blurry vision, he starts to read—well—attempt to. With every sentence, every punctuation, every meaning of your words, all of it felt like a slap to reality.

How could he have not seen?

How did he not notice? Not paying attention to what you were going through? How could he have been so careless as to leave you all alone.

The very fear you spoke of,

He did just exactly what your family had done.

If anybody could have saved me,

it would have been you.

He read the part over and over again, allowing your words to cut through his heart repeatedly. He left you, and yet, at the end of the day, you still see him as someone—the only one who could save you. 

Despite the war inside your mind,

Inside your mind and unwavering emotions, which he hadn't bothered to unveil, he remained the most important person.

May it be in your chaotic mind or the furthest crevices of your heart, he remained on both.

He read it all,

Understanding every single thing you failed to say in person,

Everything you failed to say while you still lived.

It hurts even more. He thought nothing could be more painful when he saw you laying lifeless. But having to read what you wanted to say,

How sorry you were, how thankful you are to him, and how he made you feel. 

It was surely another cut to an already existing wound. His mind flashed memories while he went over the tear stained letter you left.

He remembered everything as if they were as fresh as yesterday. When you first smiled at him, when you first held hands, when your lips first touched.

Your words were true. The story of you really is short-lived. But he couldn't help but think about the what If's

If he stayed,

If he hadn't walked out,

If he ignored his fear of abandoning you,

If he hadn't been so stupid and cowardly.

He gave up, and the heavy lump on the throat overcame him, letting the sting linger for as long as eternity. He read the last words on the letter, with a loud sob, with repeated pleads.

Repeatedly apologising, repeatedly begging for you to come back so he could fix things so everything could return to normal,

So you could return.

A childish wish. A high-ranking soldier held the lifeless body of his lover all while he begs for them to come back. 

"I'm so sorry." He whispers, voice too broken to speak normally. "I'm sorry for not noticing."

"I'm sorry you had to be alone." 

"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He repeats over and over again, holding you against him. 

At the back of the letter, he could barely see the words written with how blurry the tears clouded his eyes.

Thank you for making me feel.

The words only crushed him even more, sobbing and crying harder to no avail. 

"[name]..." He whispers, holding you close. "Did it hurt? I'm sorry, it must have been so hard."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm so sorry for not being here you."

He apologized, wishing he could have been with you. To convince you otherwise, wishing he could have been here to avoid this,

To avoid losing you.

Wishing he could have stayed to keep making you feel.

The thoughts of your words before he left suddenly entered his mind,

"Can I hug you?"

"One last time?"

Now it all makes sense why you looked so serene, why you looked so accepting. Why did you have that small smile on your lips,

You were bidding him goodbye.

That really was the final hug. 

The final touch he'd ever get, the final living affection he would get from you. 

He holds you now, but it wasn't the same, not even close. Back then, you were smiling and breathing, but now you're no different to an inanimate object. Stiff and cold, this is the person he loved so dearly?

It ached.

And it ached painfully.

The type of ache to never go away, the type of ache he'd keep forever.

The type of ache he'll willingly embrace,

As he held you that night, mourning for what could've been, mourning for someone beyond saving.

This was the ache he'd willingly feel forever,

If it means having you in his mind and heart. He would willingly hurt himself by keeping that ache if it means keeping you in his deceased heart forever.

As the remnant of your memories roamed the room, your presence which now passed, the scent of yours he dearly craved. It left a sillage pain to remember,

You left a sillage worth remembering.

"I'll keep you in my heart,

Even if that damage me,

Even if it kills me.

I'll keep you safe forever."

[libraryofloveletters]

With Sweet Comes Sour

Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader 

Warnings: charles just wanted a peaceful valentines, so much drama and so many emotions, lots of tears, assumption of cheating (no actual cheating), weird ass exes, all the kids are in here, a few insulting terms, alcohol and the consumption of, being drunk, slight explicit content, bar brawls, blood and bruises, google translated french.

Word Count: 3.6k

Author’s Note: okay here's another piece to the series, sorry it took me forever to get this out but I didn't have any ideas until now lol. happy early valentines!

Daddy & Me + Three Masterlist 

--

The rollers stacked on her vanity as you undo the curls in her hair. Eloise was doing the final touches on her makeup as it was her first Valentines with her boyfriend, Anthony. They're going for the full cliché; movie and dinner and a stroll by the pier when they are done.

This is the first Valentine in 17 years that you and your husband have the house to yourselves. You were going to make the most of it, spending some quality alone time without your children pestering you.

You leave her to finish getting ready before going down to check on your husband. You hear the doorbell ring, and you figure it was Anthony here to pick her up so you let the boy in. Eloise comes downstairs in the meantime and you could hear her speaking to her father.

"How do I look?" She asks him; her baby pink dress sat above her knees.

The man smiles, twirling a curl that sat on her shoulder. "Très belle, ma chérie." (very beautiful, my darling.) You smiled as you watched the interaction, Anthony steps past you towards his girlfriend. He had brought her chocolates and flowers.

She kisses his cheek; young love.

He had another bouquet of flowers, Eloise sets her gifts down in the kitchen as Anthony walks to you. "For you," he hands you the roses, you smile at him.

"Thank you, sweetheart. That's very thoughtful of you," you toss a glance at your husband who definitely forgot to get you flowers.

Eloise returns a moment later, linking arms with her boyfriend. "You two be safe," Charles tells them. Anthony nods, "I'll have her back before midnight."

"Just come home safe, you're both old enough to be responsible." You say, walking them to the front door and sending them off with a wave. Your husband comes up behind you the moment the door shuts, hugging you from behind before he carries you to the couch.

"So pretty lady, what are we going to do with our empty house?" He asks, you could practically hear the mischief in his voice.

"I'm gonna order takeout and drink a whole bottle of wine," you nudged him off of you, making him groan.

Charles was hoping he'd 'get some' so to speak, seeing that the house was in fact empty and would be for hours. Eloise and Anthony wouldn't be back until after midnight, Sofia and Christopher had gone up to Marseille for the night to spend time together and Gabriel and Oliver were at some club with Georgina and Adrian for the night, so you weren't expecting anyone back anytime soon.

"This is our first valentines together, alone, in a long time," Charles tells you, watching as you sit next to him with two glasses of wine.

"I know," you tapped your glass to his gently before taking a sip.

"It's odd," he whispers into your shoulder, kissing your skin softly. You nod, "but nice. Now hurry up and pick a place, I'm starving."

"Always so charming, my love." He rolls his eyes, earning a playful nudge as he reaches for his phone. You two settled on the Italian place that Charles liked.

He put on some random movie that the two of you had started watching a few days ago and never finished. You find yourself cuddled in your husband's side, his arm wrapped around you as you two tried to figure out what was happening where you left off. Eventually, Charles gives up on the movie and focuses his attention elsewhere.

Your husband pulls you onto his lap, his hands on your hips. "What do you want?" You asked him, your own hands on his shoulders, one sliding up to the nape of his neck; his hair had been growing out, all fuzzy and tickling his skin.

"I can't give my wife some love?" He whispers into your skin, lips peppering kissing along your neck as he pulls you into him. He reached your lips, you mumbled a no before kissing him.

His hands slip under your shirt, yours tangled in his hair; you make a mental note to call your mother in law to book him a haircut.

It's like you're teenagers again, all over each other with no room to breathe.

Hands make quick work of Charles's shirt, tossing it behind you somewhere as he goes to flip the two of you over, pinning you under him just as the doorbell rings.

You can't help the giggle when your husband groans, getting up to get the door as he assumed it was the delivery man with the food.

Except he's met with an annoyed Christopher, who just rolled his eyes when he saw his father shirtless and his mother on the couch. He pushes past Charles and goes to the kitchen.

"Chris?" You called after him, seeing Sofia walk in moments later on the verge of tears and you get up, tossing Charles's shirt to him.

The brunette follows her boyfriend, not saying anything until she reaches the kitchen. There's a screaming match, the two of them switching from English to Italian and then a mix of both. Something about a restaurant and a guy or something along those lines. Sofia's holding onto Christopher's arm and he gently pulled away, walking out the front door and slamming the door shut. Charles follows behind him, probably talking him down from doing something stupid.

These damn Leclerc's and their drama.

Getting up, you walk over to Sofia and sit with her in the kitchen. "Is everything okay? We weren't expecting you two back tonight, actually, we weren't expecting you back for the entire weekend."

The girl sniffles, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "I hate him."

"Me too," you nodded, rubbing her back. "What did he do this time?"

"It wasn't even him, well I mean, it was but it was me. Actually, well.. it's complicated." She says and you raise an eyebrow, unsure as to what she meant. She speaks, explaining herself. "I bumped into an old friend, and when I say old friend, I mean an old friend. I haven't seen him in like, maybe, six years because he moved from Madrid to London. He just happened to be in Marseille with his girlfriend for Valentine's Day as well."

"Okay... I'm still waiting for what was so bad about that."

"I was waiting for Christopher to get out of the bathroom when my friend noticed me and tapped me on the shoulder. We exchanged hello and exchanged pleasantries, then he kissed my cheek on the way out. Christopher being Christopher, automatically assumes the worst."

You made a face, "so Chris got mad because.. he kissed you on the cheek? Is he dumb?"

"Exactly," she grumbled and you handed her a tissue to clean up her face. "Honestly, that's how Spanish men are, though. They're always affectionate, your father is the same way. I'm certain your friend didn't mean it in the way Christopher took it."

"Even if he did, I didn't take it that way. He has a girlfriend, and regardless, I love Christopher and I would never do that to him."

"I know you wouldn't." You gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Why don't you get something to drink? I'll go see what's going on with them outside hm?" You leave her be for the moment, letting her settle her emotions.

Charles is listening to Christopher ramble, the younger Leclerc spiralling and getting himself caught up in some nonsense lie that his brain made up.

"Christopher," you call for him, stopping him from speaking. He looks at you. "What?"

"You need to apologize to her."

He makes a face, confused as to why you're telling him to apologize when he clearly did nothing wrong, or so he thinks.

"Sofia is a sweet girl, who has no control over the actions of others, and who loves you very much despite your nonsense and your dramatic flare. So you get your ass inside and apologize to your girlfriend for ruining Valentine's day. Either you drive back to Marseille or you figure out something here, because you aren't gonna ruin today for her."

"He kissed her!" He says, flinging his arms in the air. Charles's eyes widened, "what?"

It seems Christopher had left out that detail.

"On the cheek," you clarify, "and so what if he did? You kiss Georgina on the cheek all the time and Sofia doesn't get upset. This guy was just some friend of hers, you need to get over your shit and put your ego to the side because if you don't, you'll lose her."

Christopher huffed, taking in his mother's words before turning and heading inside. You and Charles followed a moment later, hearing bits and pieces of their conversation in the kitchen but eventually, they came into the living room, holding hands.

"Dad," Christopher calls for his father, the man looks over at his son. "Can you get us a hotel room? I tried to get one but everyone says they're booked."

"I can try but why would it be different for me?" He asks, clearly confused and as clueless as the day you met him. "Because you're the prince of Monaco, Charles. Now start calling." You tell your husband, getting up to answer the door - the takeout had finally arrived.

Charles tried his best to get a hotel room for the kids, and even pulled his prince of Monaco card but despite it all, it was Valentine's Day and everywhere was booked.

Sofia decided that she wanted ice cream and Christopher, doing anything to make it up to her, agreed - ignoring the fact that he hated ice cream just for tonight. You sent them off with a wave before returning to your husband on the couch. Charles was refilling your wine glass as you took the food out of the bag.

You two had barely gotten 5 minutes into eating when the door opened and in comes Eloise with her mascara running down her face. She ran straight to her father's arms, collapsing into him.

Anthony follows behind her, the front door slamming shut as he rambles out something in French. "Ce n'est pas à quoi ça ressemblait! Ellie, tu paniques pour rien!" (This is not what it looked like! Ellie, you're freaking out for nothing!)

Eloise had returned home on Valentine's, in tears and was now holding onto her father as if he was going to disappear. The look you saw in Charles' eyes was one you thought was only held for Ferrari and all their torment but it was now directed to his best friend's son, - his baby girl's - his daughter's boyfriend.

"What's going on?" You handed Eloise a tissue, moving to sit on the arm rest of the couch, making yourself the middleman between Charles and Anthony.

The anger on your husband's face made you giggle internally, you could never take him seriously when he was upset - but you understood it. He didn't like to see his kids hurt, especially not his baby girl.

Anthony sighed, passing a hand through his dirty blonde hair; fluffy and flat, much like his father's. "My stupid ex girlfriend saw us while we were at the pier. She came to say hello and she was way too friendly with me - all over me, kissing my cheek, her hand on my chest, all in my face." He groaned, clearly disgusted by this girl.

"Why would you let her do that when you know you have a girlfriend?" Charles asks him, you could hear the roughness in his tone. Your hand gently moves to his shoulder, rubbing it softly.

You spoke next; "did she know you had a girlfriend?"

He nods, "Eloise was taking a picture of something so she was a few feet away and I guess she took it the wrong way when she saw her all over me. I was trying to get her to leave me alone but god, she's like a fucking pest - sorry," he makes a face when he realizes he swore. You wave him off before he continues. "Ellie took it the wrong way, which I understand but she won't hear me out, she thinks I'm cheating on her."

"Are you cheating on her?" Charles asks him.

"No!" You and Anthony answer at the same time; the boy trying to defend himself and you couldn't believe your husband would even ask that.

Eloise finally sits up, her father wiping her cheeks clean. Her blue eyes rimmed with red and slightly puffy from the tears and she turns to Anthony. "Va-t'en, je ne veux pas de toi ici." (go away, I don't want you here.) She tells him, voice trembling.

"Je ne pars pas, Éloïse." (I'm not leaving, Eloise.)

"Ok, je le ferai alors." (okay, i will then.) The girl gets up, walking the other way around the living room and heads up the stairs to what you could only assume was her room. Charles was just as wrapped around her finger as he was when she was born, and followed her to make sure she was alright.

These damn Leclerc's and their drama.

You rolled your eyes at your daughter's dramatics.

Yes, she was upset but Anthony had explained the whole situation in front of you, her and her father. While Anthony might look exactly like his man whore of a father, he was everything like his mother; a sweet, kind and fiercely loyal woman.

It broke your heart to see her upset but it also hurt you to see Anthony in the same state. You get up, hugging the boy as he sniffles, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand.

"She just needs some time to cool off, she's dramatic like her father." You tell him, trying to lighten the mood. You walk him to the kitchen, getting him some water.

He sat in the breakfast nook. "I swear I didn't even see her until she walked over, otherwise I would have walked the other way."

"I know babe, is this the same girl that stalked you after you broke up?"

"Yeah!" He groans, sipping his water. "She's so - ugh." He says, making you laugh. You kiss the top of his head, leaving him there for the time being as you put away what was supposed to be dinner. The food sat on the coffee table, cold and unattended.

The door opens again and you groan, praying it's not another issue but it wasn't; Sofia and Chris come stumbling in, clearly having consumed something other than ice cream.

"Mama!!" Chris grins, untangling his fingers from Sofia's as he walks over to you, kissing your cheek multiple times like he did when he was little - slobbering on your cheek as he did then too.

You laughed, smelling the booze on him. Steadying him, you held his waist. "Hi baby, you okay?"

"Soooo good," he tells you, wobbling over to Sofia, who was also drunk but more steady than your son. You watch as they go upstairs, the sound of the door opening and closing before you walk back to the kitchen.

Anthony still sat in the breakfast nook. "You want something to eat? Something else to drink?" You asked him, wiping your wet cheek off with a tissue.

It takes him a moment to respond. "You know when we were little and you'd cut the apples and make the little peanut butter sandwiches with the slices?" He asks and you nod.

"Want some?" You were already grabbing the apple, peanut butter and honey. Anthony smiles, nodding like he was a kid again.

You washed and cut the apples, spreading the peanut butter and honey on them, sandwiching them together and handing the plate to him. "Thank you," he says, sinking into his seat as he takes a bite of the familiar taste from his childhood.

"Mhm hm," you smiled, hearing the footsteps from behind you. Charles was coming down, kissing your temple as he picked up an extra piece of apple you had on the cutting board.

"Ellie just needs some time." He says, staring daggers at Anthony; if looks could kill.

You huffed, smacking the back of your husband's head. "Stop it, he feels bad enough as it is."

Another set of footsteps come from the hallway and you assume it's Christopher looking for something but then the sound of the front door slamming shut caught your attention. This house was like a free for all, everyone coming and going as they pleased - you made sure to make a mental note to see who had keys to this place.

In came Gabriel who was being held by his boyfriend, Oliver. The two of them were covered in blood and Gabriel had cuts and bruises all over his face.

"What the fuck? What happened?" You say, Charles rushing over to help Oliver sit Gabriel down on a chair.

"He's so fricking hot headed," Oliver says, holding his boyfriend up straight.

It was clear that Gabriel was beyond pissing drunk, the boy swaying unless someone was holding him. Anthony takes over for Oliver, holding Gabriel up as Oliver goes to the bathroom to get the first aid kit.

"What happened?" Charles asks, passing you the cloth as you wiped the blood off your son's face. "I have no clue," you tell him, being extra careful not to hurt him; not like Gabriel would feel it anyways.

Oliver comes back a moment later, setting the kit on the counter and taking back his spot next to Gabriel.

"Ellie's asking for you, man." He tells Anthony, who glances at Charles before quietly making his way out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Before you could even ask, Oliver starts explaining the events of the night. "We met up with Georgina and Adrian at the club. We were all a little tipsy, and Georgina was trying to get a drink at the bar. Some guy came up behind her and he was getting all handsy, trying to touch her and Adrian was in the bathroom so he didn't see it happen, but Gabriel did and he stepped in." Oliver sighs, brushing his boyfriend's hair from his face.

"Basically, Gabriel told the guy to fuck off and said if he touched Georgina again that he would break his face. The guy took that as a sign to leave and once Adrian came back, the two of them decided that they were going to go get something to eat and just spend the rest of the night at home. But Gabriel being Gabriel, our night couldn't just end there of course."

You carefully patched up Gabriel, wiping his cuts clean and putting antibacterial ointment on what needed it , making sure he didn't need stitches or anything.

"The guy came back again a few minutes later. He was super drunk, as was Gabriel and you know how Gabe can be. They started fighting and next thing you know, they're beating the shit out of each other in the middle of the fucking club."

Oliver tells you the story, causing you to roll your eyes at your son's behaviour. You're proud of him for standing up for his friend but must he always get into a fight for stupid reasons?

"I tried to stop him but I forget how strong Gabriel is sometimes." He huffed and you looked at him, seeing the blood on him. "Are you okay?" You asked, moving over to check him.

"I'm fine," Oliver smiles. "It's Gabe's." He says, gesturing to the blood on his shirt.

Charles was making up the guest room downstairs while you patched Gabriel up. In his drunken state, you all knew he wouldn't be making it up the stairs. Your husband comes back to help Oliver get Gabriel into bed and you threw out the bloody mess that had developed on the counter.

You put the plates in the sink, tossing the garbage out and headed up to check on your oldest and youngest.

There were noises coming from Christoper's room and you figured it best not to investigate further. Eloise's door was open, you knock softly and peek in when you don't get an answer. Her head resting on Anthony's chest, the two of them cuddled up and fast asleep. Switching off the light, you pulled the door shut quietly and made your way back downstairs.

As you reach the bottom step, Charles appears from around the corner. He hugs you, squeezing you tightly.

"What?" you asked him, cupping his jaw.

"Our kids are insane," he tells you, sighing. You can't help the laugh, leaning down to kiss your husband. "Those are your genes."

Charles rolls his eyes and takes your hand, pulling you behind him.

"Where are we going?" You asked, following him. He leads you to the car, opening the door for you to get in before getting in himself. It was a short drive and you two ended up on the pier, Charles parks the car and looks over at you.

"What?" You asked him again.

"Just wanted some alone time with my wife," he whispers, leaning over to kiss you. "I can't have that?"

"No," you shook your head, leaning in your seat to reach him. Charles smiles against your lips, as you melted into each other, lost in the moment.

With a soft smile and a lingering touch, you reluctantly pulled away with your cheeks as red as the first night he kissed you. "What was that for?"

"Nothing," he says, smiling. "Happy Valentine's Day babe."

"Happy Valentine's Day, my love."

--

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**if you were previously tagged in a daddy & me + three piece and you aren't no, that means your tag wasn't working or it was sent incorrectly to me. please message me and I will fix it!

[thefandomthings]

I'm so sorry I forgot to specify which section last time I just realized 😭 Can I pretty please have fluff 39 with Barbatos from Obey Me? 🫂

Soothing

Fluff prompt #39: "Should I stop talking?" "Don't. Your voice is very soothing."

Pairing: Barbatos x Gn!reader

Warnings: Floof, cussing

Notes: Hey there Nony! You're good, I know what you meant! I would like to apologize in advance I've never gotten into his character, I don't know much about him but I will try my best. I don't like this piece, I feel like I did a terrible job at writing him. Please give me some fed back on it 😭

Barbatos is a busy demon, constantly doing his duties as the royal butler and taking care of the prince. But he always make sure he has time for you. He let's you spend time with him while he does chores around the castle, or is making tea for himself and the prince; as long as you don't interrupt him or distract him.

You cherish the time you get to yourselves. Sitting in your shared quarters sipping tea and reading in the comforting silence of one another. Other times, Barbatos likes watching you tell him about the books you are reading, or what you did that day while you were out with the brothers while on a nightly walk.

He isn't much of a talker, simply preferring to keep quiet and let you do the talking for him. His favorite it when you get deep into what you're talking about. He'll give occasional noises or throw in a few questions to let you know he is listening.

"-And then it ends on a cliffhanger! Of all things, it pissed me off honestly. They went through all that and the author ended it in such a terrible way-" You were practically seething as you walk next to him, Barbatos is giving you a small smile. Watching you ramble on and on was his favorite part of the day if he was being honest.

"Oh, I am sorry to hear that my dear. Do you know when the next book will be out?" Barb asks softly, his turquoise-green eyes watching you intensely, his left hand squeezing yours softly.

(A few months after he asked you this, the book will somehow end up on your bed, signed by the author with a rose next to it. Sneaky bastard.)

You shake your head, slouching your posture grumbling about your book once again.

"No, and if it is the author won't say it..." You respond, lolling your head to rest on his shoulder.

"I've honestly discovered I don't like this author as much as I used to. Her work isn't as thrilling as her older stuff-Which is fine, I don't mind but it just doesn't give the same thrilling feel."

You then realize you have been dragging this conversation on for at least 10 minutes. Your face slowly gets enveloped by a deep blush. You look up at your boyfriend, who is smiling as usual, but it's more genuine and full of care.

"Should I stop talking?" You whisper, looking at him curiously as he stops walking. The moon illuminates your face, defining every beautiful feature on you.

Barbatos simply shakes his head, grabbing your chin between his gloved forefinger and thumb. His eyes gazing into yours lovingly.

"Don't. Your voice is very soothing." He gives your forehead a soft kiss, his lips lingering before he pulls away. He moves a strand of hair away from your eyes before he starts walking with you once again.

Your face is on fire, a bright smile gracing your lips. You clear your throat and continue on your rant. Barbatos can't help but chuckle to himself, thanking whomever brought you to him.

[dried-mushroom]

Omg can you please write about Lee Russell being mean to you in front of Gamby as like a power display or something but then when y'all get home (y'all are like Secretly dating since you're just a teacher) he's all nice and romantic to apologize?

YIPPEE I found another lee Russell lover! don't judge please I'm Australian so I have little concept of American education. I hope you like it.

Warnings: Lil angsty and implied sex

Be mean to me

Lee Russell x reader (well Christine sucks so she's not in this story)

Life was pretty peachy as a history teacher in North Jackson high school, you were stuck teaching from a range of boring topics to your either half asleep, barely listening or teacher pet students, except you were sleeping with the vice principal, Lee Russell. You couldn't resist that southern charm radiating off his tongue when he spoke those words on your first day as a teacher, in the parking lot.

"Mornin' Sweetheart, are you lost? The names Lee Russell, Vice principal of this very high school and you're way too fuckin' pretty to be a high school teacher."

After taking a good look at the lanky man who called himself the vice principal, you couldn't help yourself, and after promptly introducing you to your fellow teachers, he briskly walked you to the janitors closet where you both spent all morning. Obviously, you both knew this had to be kept a secret, boss and employee dating is a no-go, although that did not stop you both from being affectionate when no was watching, sharing a peck when you went to visit him at his office or the grasp of his hand on your thigh under the table at meetings or after work, where it was safe to be yourselves and you could lay together watching borderline cheesy romcom movies whilst Lee critiques his heart out.

You sighed contently as the bell for seventh period rang, the mingled voices of your 6th period ancient history class rushed out the door to their next useless class and you could finally relax and start lesson planning for the next 45 minutes. You let your hands run down your thighs, smoothing out your new dress (this but more teacher appropriate). You brought this specifically for Lee, you knew of his love for colours, hence his usually eccentric clothing choices, you knew he'd love the pattern on you. You couldn't help but smile giddily and walk out of the classroom, you knew you could easily finish the planning later and you'd rather spend the last of the school day with Lee.

You swiftly walked down the hall to administration, smiled sweetly at Swift, because you knew how rude Gamby was to her for no reason, and she didn't deserve that, like Gamby seriously needs a reality check in your opinion.

"Afternoon Miss Swift, I hope you're doing alright and Gamby isn't giving you a hard time, I was hoping to see Mr. Russell, I had to discuss long service leave with him."

"Oh, thank you miss l/n, vice principal Gamby is albeit rude, but I think he's getting better, and of course let me get the door for you."

You knew she wasn't stupid, and you assumed she knew about you and Lee secretly dating, but it was better to come up with an excuse and be safe rather than sorry. Smith quickly opened to door and shut it behind you.

"Well, hello there honey, I was expecting you- and what's this? isn't this a pretty thing?"

He shot up from his desk chair and sauntered over to where you stood, he placed his hands on your waist and whispered in your ear.

"I can't wait to rip that off you gir-"

Suddenly the door swung open, and Lee jumped away from you, 'of course Neal Gamby, you had to come fuck everything up." you thought to yourself, now awkwardly fiddling with the hem of your dress.

"Russell. We need to talk. Why the hell are you here Miss. l/n? I thought Wednesday 7th period was your planning lesson."

Before you could reply to Gamby, Lee interjected,

"Exactly, Scram Miss l/n, I don't need nor want you here, I have better shit to do, plus what the fuck are you wearing? you look like a fuckin mess, pick a goddamn colour."

Your heart sank, an uncomfortable tightness sat in your chest as your face flushed in embarrassment. You knew Lee being a dick to you was only a ruse to throw off other teachers and admin but, fuck it hurt, it hurt so much to have him speak to you in that way. You nodded your head and headed to the door,

"Open or closed Mr. Russell?"

Gamby responded for him, responding in a curt 'Closed.' leaving you to silently shut the door behind you. You walked out of the administration office before your eyes welled with tears, but you waited until you reached your classroom until you broke, sobbing quietly at your desk. You just wished you and Lee could act like a couple instead of the cold shoulder act he'd be giving you. With the mixed signals and nausea swirling through your brain, you grabbed your left-over paperwork and bag before leaving. Usually, you and Lee would leave at the same time, but you couldn't bear to see him at the moment, all your hard work, making yourself pretty for him and resulting in him publicly humiliating you was just too much.

The short drive home eased you a little but when you had to walk up those steps of your shared home, it just brought back that sickly tension. You unlocked the door and set your handbag down (another reminder of Lee since it was an anniversary gift). You kicked off your heels and headed upstairs to your shared bedroom. You didn't bother to change and slumped into bed, fresh tears coming to your eyes, you didn't care whether you were quiet or not, sobbing yourself till you couldn't keep your eyes open.

Lee's POV:

He regretted the words as soon as they came from his mouth. He saw the hurt on your face, and he felt his stomach twist into a tight knot. He hated being a dick to you, hated it so much he hated himself for doing it. He realised he went way too far this time with you, and he really didn't want to lose you and couldn't help but fidget with his hands whilst blatantly ignoring whatever bullshit Gamby was bitching about.

"Sorry Gamby but I gotta run, not like you'd know what that is though. We'll talk about Brown tomorrow, now get the fuck outta my office."

Neal sighed, muttered some regurgitated insult but ultimately left. Lee rushed to grab his belongings and ran out the door, Smith tried to ask where he was off to in a rush,

"Sir, you can't just leave! where are you even going???"

When he pulled into the driveway, 'Thank God' he thought as he saw your car parked there. He got out, left all his belongings in the car, not a care. You were more important; you were the most important thing in his life. He opened the door and called;

"Shut the fuck up Smith, I can leave whenever the fuck I want and its none of your business where I am going."

Smith squeaked a reply, but Lee was already down the hall, he went to your classroom and groaned when he noticed a lack of you and your belongings. He ran to the parking lot, got into his car as soon as he didn't saw your car, without a doubt it was always parked next to his. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white, he shakily exhaled, he knew he had fucked up and was hoping you were at home.

"Y/n baby, where are you? I'm so sorry about what I said."

The silence was nerve-racking, so after checking all the other rooms for you, he headed to the bedroom to check. There you were, peaceful and asleep, he couldn't have been happier. He walked across the room to the side to the bed you were facing, and sat gently on the bed, softly stroking your hair.

Your POV:

You slowly awoke out of a dreamless slumber to someone touching you. You flinched when you realised it was Lee, and you remembered everything that happened today. He felt your reaction and immediately pulled his hand away. He saw the tear streaks on your face and sighed,

"Y/n I am so fuckin' sorry; I should have never had said those hurtful things to you, you didn't deserve that, God, I don't deserve you. I didn't even mean them, I need you so much, and you do so much for me, and I take that shit for granted, please forgive me y/n, I love you."

You saw the raw emotion across his face and sat up, you could see the tears in his eyes, and you couldn't help but wipe the one away falling down his cheek with your thumb. You smiled softly and leaned into him,

"I forgive you Lee, and I love you so much. I don't think you meant it but what you said really fucking hurt, and this hiding our relationship is really hurting us, so please can we finally go public and not have to worry and hide anymore?"

"Thank you so much and fuck it! who gives a shit if you and I are together? whoever doesn't like it can suck my dick, I can't lose you honey."

You smiled, finally knowing you'd and Lee would finally be able to be yourselves without having hide and sneak around.

"You aren't losing me Lee; I wouldn't do that to you. Now kiss me, you idiot."

He didn't hesitate a second before crashing his lips into yours, your hands finding his neck before climbing into his lap. His hands sneaked around your waist bringing you even closer, you could feel his erection under you, and you couldn't help moaning into his mouth. He broke the kiss to whisper,

"Well now how about I make do of my promise from earlier?"

The End

I hope this was good! please leave comments or asks if you enjoyed :)

[2demondogs]

With Chrismas around the corner (not really but basically), i would love an Arthur x GN!reader where Arthur proposes to reader for Chrismas and they obviously say yes because, well, it's Arthur, who wouldn't?

Anon did you read my mind. I was just thinking about proposal fics when you sent this ask because I have yet to stumble on one somehow... I'm sorry this took forever btw T-T

Shoutout to my platonic boyfriend for helping me with ideas because I got writer's block <3

Words: 3k oh my good lord Tags: canon divergence (it's just people leaving the gang a chapter early), Arthur does not have tuberculosis, INSTANT spoilers for character death, cheesy shit

It's been too long, you're realizing, since holidays like Christmas felt like special things. There is a double-edged feel to this one — it is the first since Hosea's death, since leaving the gang — but it is the first, in a very long time, that you've spent in the so-called right way: in a warm house with four solid walls and someone you love, how those fanciful books Mary-Beth used to talk your ear off about always wrote.

The house is warm enough, anyways.

There's work that needs done on the cabin. Some of the wood is rotting out and chipped at the corners, forming into sharp splinters that you've brushed against one too many times, but it is a house. You haven't had this pleasure since before joining the gang.

Sometimes, with how content Arthur seems at baseline, you wonder if he's had this pleasure since early childhood. On quieter evenings, ones less reserved for happiness than this one, there has been clipped discussion about how Arthur has never had domesticity like this. Silently, it was an admission of how good it is to share this freshness with you.

During a ride into town, he'd admitted that he had never picked up painting because it was the sort of thing only steady folks got to enjoy. You'd gotten him a set of oil paints when no one was looking — he's worth much more than a few measly dollars, but that means little if you haven't got them to begin with. Some habits die hard; he was happy you remembered what he'd said only a few hours before.

Come the new year, Arthur plans to find work that will pay. New things are a luxury neither of you care much to indulge in, but the repairs will take lumber and maybe a few extra hands. Ones with more expertise, at least, because Arthur's houses usually have not had foundations.

You could simply move now that time has passed, yes. You could find somewhere much farther away, maybe even New York, and pack yourselves in alongside the other sardines bustling about a city, undetectable in uniformity. Shave beards, got jobs, change clothes, cut hair and color it, too, if paranoia strikes— but keeping low to the ground has worked itself out so far, and there is no more of that deathlike stagnation in the air of this place.

Sentimentally, you think this Christmas will seal off whatever makes this cabin yours. Shadows linger, there's been a few odd creaks that've spooked the horses, and maybe it's going to shit a lot quicker than either of you want to admit, but it's your shit-house and the shared stubbornness between you has always brought you nothing but closer to one another.

Arthur is tired of running, and so are you. Last week, he talked about writing to Mary-Beth and Simon, maybe checking if Kieran — the utterance of the man's proper name was a confirmation of the last of that stockholmlike regret having worked out of his system — had broken and followed his little girlfriend. It wasn't said with malice, just some amusement.

"Why do you think he would?" You'd asked.

"Dutch only saves people who don't ask for it," he'd said, and that wistful look in his eyes vanished before you could ask what it meant.

Maybe it's the hard work that makes it feel like a real, true holiday. Pearson and Grimshaw stopped working everyone harder in the winter over the years, once the familial glamour faded with each new addition to the gang. It was no longer a tight-knit group, but a posse, more or less, of runaways and strays all against a big, evil thing like the rest of the world, or whatever it was that Dutch grew to fear.

Since November, Arthur has been saving the best catches to be salted and stored for Christmas dinner. Each addition is cleaner skinned and cut than the last, and the newfound worst of them ended up being ate upon his return from hunting. You've both been saving back herbs since summer, dried and ready to be crumbled into the heated up pot come time for a real feast. Cornbread was made by hand for the first time since you settled down here, drizzled with honey from the general store a ways out.

The latter was Arthur's only specific request for a fancy dinner. If you hadn't gotten him a single gift save for making it, he'd still be happy as a clam.

He's been putting that goddamned honey on everything. You're glad he seems to be enjoying things again, not as tightstrung as he was before you'd made off with him. That's how it feels, anyways, after the long and struggling conversations that were had before the decision was made. Family or life? It's a hard question for someone who has such little concept of either.

Now, the grey hair in his beard is catching the light from the fireplace where he's sat himself on a chair before it. They'd sprouted through the sun-bleached blond atop his head has been looking lighter and lighter in recent months, grey finally catching up to the discoloration and giving him some malcolored sort of tabby look. It's a good one on him, as much as he complains about looking old as dirt and that it's all formed by stress.

For all the lacking color, it adds a ruddy warmth to his face. Daydreams of growing old together find you when you focus on it, or on his wheezing laugh that's gotten worse with the cold weather. Despite the woolen vest he's been sporting, his fingers are as chilled as yours whenever they've brushed. Idly, you wonder if he's gotten whatever Hosea grew into, then remember they were never by blood.

Arthur hadn't wanted you to get him any gifts. When you asked if he would get you something, he'd flushed and changed his mind, apparently already having done it.

Whatever it is, it's good-sized, wrapped in one of the dustcloths you'd gotten him alongside the paints. He's been spending more time painting, lately, tucked in the treeline and looking over the cabin or deeper into the woods, studying something plein air the way those professionals do. He'd propped it against the wall this morning, and once you've settled on the floor before the fireplace — too cold outside not to crowd close to it — after dinner, he looks between you and the cloth like he isn't sure what to do.

"D'you wanna do the honors?" He asks, and grins although the twitch of his eye tells you he's covering timidity with faux cockiness.

"You go ahead," you say, half because he's closer. Tormenting him in small ways must be part of any good gift.

The painting is an image you recognize. A photo that one of the girls took for you months before things went down the hole, using the camera Arthur was loaned by some feller in town who wanted photos taken for a book. He never returned it, and it more or less became something he tucked beneath his cot and let the elements beat around. You can't remember, now, who it was or where he went to get it developed.

The little inkling of pride you felt knowing he kept putting off getting the negatives developed — not enough money, not enough time — yet was gone the next morning to have yours developed returns, now.

It's a much nicer rendition of it, your clothes not dirty and his arm around your waist, the other holding his hat to his chest. It's clear he preferred to give your portrait more detail, his own lagging somewhere behind in clarity and looking closer to the photo. You suppose it's easier to look at someone besides himself, but there's a clearer enjoyment in the lines of you, more care taken in the color mixes.

Ignoring the dense joy of the implications of that, of how obvious it is, proves difficult. Your cheeks twinge some from the wide smile before you realize you're even reacting.

"You'll be a big name someday," you say, and he may as well shrink in on himself beneath the praise, although he's heard it plenty of times before.

"Naw," he waves a hand. "Quit that."

"Really, Arthur." Scooting closer, laying your hands over his knee. He's moving his jaw when your eyes meet his, lays a hand over one of yours, heavy and warm. "It's beautiful. I love it."

"Good," he says. His jaw clicks. "I— uh, I love you."

The hunting knife you got for him seems small, though relatively equal. Arthur looks as pleased as ever studying it, half-mumbling appraisals of yeah, nice and sharp, sturdy to himself that likely would've stayed inside his head, if it weren't for wanting to show you he liked it.

A bone handle, which he feels over with his fingers before noticing it's engraved, fits easy in his palm. You were afraid you push your luck with maintaining its quality too far adding the tiny, vague bear shape next to the deeper cut of his name. Already impressive was the fact that you hadn't ruined it with the letters, being one of your first expeditions into anything of the sort.

"I would've gotten you one of those folding knives," you explain. "But they don't hold up as well, and I know you have one."

The army knife was Hosea's.

"Needed me a new huntin' knife," Arthur says. You know, because he's complained about his current one being close to snapping with all the skinning he does anymore. He squints at the handle, turns it over in the light from the fire. "Did you engrave the handle?"

"Yessir."

He smiles. "It's real nice," he says, pats his palm with the blade softly. It makes a dull noise, sturdy metal on skin. "Why a bear?"

"They remind me of you," you admit. Really, you'd spent a long time considering what else to add, because only his name seemed so plain; although he wouldn't be opposed to flowers or vines, they are a little more intricate than a simplified bear head. "Big and strong. Hairy, too. I'd like to hug one."

He snorts a laugh, but it seems thin. His eyes are fond enough on you that it couldn't be any rejection of your words, and so you brush it off. "You wanna hug a bear?" He asks.

"In a perfect world," you amend. "Don't they look warm?"

"You'd better stick to me," he says, smooths a palm over the thigh of his jeans. The nicest pair he owns, he promised you, because he feels ridiculous in slacks and seems to think you care what he wears.

Beyond thinking everything looks well on him, at least. You often find yourself concerned with that thought.

"I got you somethin' else," Arthur starts, running a finger over the bunched inseam at his own knee. "Well, uh— it's f'both of us, really."

Isn't that intriguing, you think, but your silent, undivided attention seems to make him outright nervous, so you say: "Oh?"

Some conflict happens over his face as he pulls his vest collar away and reaches into the inner pocket, takes out a stack of thin papers that he glances over before apparently relenting to something. Confusion finds you, until he takes a deep breath and holds them towards you.

"Read these," is all he says, and he sounds like it's almost painful.

He's written much, much more than that. Your stomach turns, once or twice, realizing they are pages from his journal. Uncertain why, until the first entries which are skittering on affectionate fade into ones much more flowery. They are all about you, days you'd spent together or times you hadn't, the things you've given him over the years and the things he wished he could've given you.

Each page makes your chest feel tight with a panicked joy, as if his hands were not fiddling with the new knife to occupy — distract? — himself but clenching hard at your heart.

One, near the beginning, says he thought of pickin' a pretty lil' flower, God bless it, I feel ridiculous; on the back of the next is pressed a variegated tulip, crumbling with age but holding firm to whatever adhesive glues it to the paper. Again, that creeping smile, like thyme. Another entry is entirely about your hair, because it had brushed his arm. Only a few sentences made up that page, below the cursive a choppy sketch of your horse.

Certainly, Arthur stays busy in his head. You've always known as much, but never figured any of it was about you. Not like this, anyways, though the dates spread from the week before Blackwater and you can only wonder what laid in that journal he lost before.

"Oh, Arthur," you start, looking up from a third-way through, feeling giddy but not wanting him to watch you so intently while you finish them. No wonder he was shy. It's his heart. "You're so sweet."

"Finish readin' 'em," Arthur says, doesn't meet your eyes at first. When he does, they're gentle. "They get sweeter, y'know, better finish 'em. 'Cause of that."

He is nervous. Hardly moving, besides the tongue running over his teeth beneath his lips, and the rambling every time he opens his mouth. You don't mind, never have. He's endearing like this.

Outings you'd went on infrequently, the dates of his favorites underlined, you're noticing, based on the tone of his words in them; his worries and fears about courting you, and some of what you mean to him though, with its succinctness, you have a feeling he wouldn't dare put all of his genuine love to findable paper; things he likes about you, and one page where he admits that he cannot keep himself from documenting you in every other entry, which tells you this small collection is hardly everything. The previous entries turn over in your mind again, and you are struck on a random page for a moment as their meanings take hold, realizing they were especially sliced from his journal to show you.

The entries leading to the last are what set your mind and pulse ablaze. From the first appearance of the word marriage, you swallowed your idea of what may be coming — Arthur's breathing changing beside you doesn't help any, and it certainly does not help that he leans down once you've reached the last page, plucking it from your hands. Before he does, you notice quite a few crossed out lines, scribbles as if he were frustrated with not being able to find the right words.

"Think I've got the balls on me to read this one aloud, at the very least," he says, voice laced with a chuckle. Breath comes uneasy, but you collect yourself enough to gather the pages back into a neat, ordered stack in your lap. "Unless you'd rather spare me," he adds, nudges your knee with the toe of his shoe.

"No." Your voice sounds strange, even to you. "Do me the honors."

Arthur bites his cheek, nods and lets it fall as he smiles. Still, his hand finds the back of his neck, the page held between two fingers that remain surprisingly steady. The knife lingers in his hand beneath it, and isn't it just like him to propose holding a weapon.

Propose. It takes its first toll on you, rolls over your back in shards of tingling.

"December twenty-fifth, eighteen ninety-nine," he starts, eyes flicking to your face every other word until the intensity of your gaze must make him too anxious. "It's a nice little life, livin' with the one I love," — rubbing his mouth, sighing some — "Jesus, I always gotta be sappy." You laugh, though it comes out more forceful than you intended, and relax some until he continues. "The thought of another day where anythin' could happen 'n' we ain't bound is somethin' I hate."

Arthur pauses, stands up and places the journal entry on his chair. You take his hands when he holds them out to where you sit, grunting when he hauls you off the ground with more force than you expected, feet shuffling into place to stick all-too-close to his. His hands are burning, skin feverish when you grab his wrists, as if you'd ever want to stop him as he eases onto a knee before you.

And his eyes throw you off balance, too, catching the light just enough that you can tell they are stinging. So are your own, now that you think about it, but intelligent thoughts go out the window once you sense him about to speak.

"I wanna be 'til death do us part," Arthur confesses, fumbles to catch both of your hands in his in an awkward, squeezing hug of a hold.

The way your bones catch on one another, well— it's not a sensation you'll forget, like the first time he kissed you and you felt it still a week later, warm pressure on your mouth if you got too lost in the memory. He looks as good, looks so nice, and you know your fingers would be shaking if he weren't crowding them together, steady.

When he says your name, the blood is rushing through your ears too loud to hear it clearly; you almost want to ask him to do it again. "Will you marry me?"

Nodding, face slack before it spreads in a grin. "Yes," you say. "Of course I will."

His is hidden by how he lets go of your hands, catching them before they fall in stupid, limp joy back to your sides. He lays kisses along the knuckles, all three rows of them. It's so awfully saccharine and yet you could never tell him to quit being sweet— not now, not as he stumbles to his feet after you pull him up and shake off his hold to grab his face, tugging him into a kiss.

Arms come around your waist, squeeze tight enough to hurt, or to hold in place. Arthur runs a hand over your back, breaks the kiss to slide a hand into your hair and press your face to his chest, caging you in his arms. He smells warm, like good cologne, and you know he's been planning this.

[vinestaffery]

Hey guys, I am so sorry for all the angst. As for a gift, I've decided to give you all some sort of comfort scenario. I've also lately been on a very bad writer's block, so I apologize for no posts. School is back, and I am not doing well, but I decided to let my heart out through writing comfort scenarios.

Make sure to take care of yourselves and to always look out for your immediate needs. You are special, you are loved, and you are adored in this world. Even though it may not feel like there is never going to be an end to a certain pain of suffering, it will get better in the long run. You are deserving of all the love in the world; you are cherished gracefully and gently by the wind and nature. Never let yourself down. <3

Some of these scenarios may not have had written paragraphs, but I probably explained them well enough in their bullet points!!!!

CW/TW: briefly mentions of abuse/attempted kidnapping, self-harm, attempted suicide, and harrassment. These topics aren't described perfectly or explicit, but are mentioned within the scenarios. If these trigger you, please avoid this post at all costs. Thank you.

B. ZUKA.

He knew not to trust you at night alone, weary that you could've gotten lost or hurt somewhere.

People in Cross Roads can be dangerous, as the mixture of different factions all combine together there, right in the center.

When you came home late, he wanted to discuss where you were.

"Where were you all night? I was worried and concerned."

He looked serious, and it frightened you.

"I was just out with some friends."

He didn't take it too kindly that you were ignorant and gave him the cold shoulder.

Even avoiding eye contact.

He knew something was up, and he was going to get to the bottom of it.

He investigated your arms, especially the one you held onto with your spare hand.

Bruises that were scattered across your forearm

God, the fury he felt when he found out you had been harmed at night made him even more angry.

Not just angry at the prepatrator, but not even being there to help you.

To support you

What good of a boyfriend is he if he can't even protect you alone?

"Who did this?" You couldn't breathe.

"It was no one, Zuka, I promise you."

"No, who did this?" There it was.

The full-blown worry and anger that he would relish in if he found out who did it.

You listed the appearance of the demon that had tried luring you into an alleyway.

Lucky enough to escape with a few bruises, you had gotten home.

Home to where now, your boyfriend cradles you in his arms.

He treated your wounds, making sure they didn't hurt as much as they did before.

"I'm sorry for not being there." Hearing him so defeated, it was too much.

You could feel the brink of tears escaping your eyes.

"Who did this to you?" Zuka threatened. You hesitated, not wanting to burden him with your worries. But his protective nature was evident in the way he held you tighter, waiting for an answer that you weren't ready to give. The fear of retaliation from the demon kept you silent, knowing that revealing the truth could only lead to more danger.

"I... I don't know; look, it's nothing." You tried to avoid the topic. The thoughts and feelings of their hand on the direct spot were bruised; it was too much to handle. Zuka's gaze softened as he wiped away your tears, his concern evident in his eyes. "You don't have to face this alone," he reassured you, his voice filled with determination to protect you from whatever was causing you pain.

"Can I please see what they did? So I can treat it." Zuka asked, permission was key in times like these and was definitely needed. Your mindset was scattered everywhere, untidied wires trying to connect comforting topics and memories. It struggled to block out the demon moments ago. Zuka's A gentle touch on your shoulder brought you back to the present moment, his calming presence giving you a sense of security. "I trust you," you whispered, allowing him to inspect the bruise and provide the care you needed. He nodded, taking your arm into his gentle palms. They were calloused and rough, but they brought back the feeling of love and home. A place you were fond of, set in your destined memories. Zuka's Touch was a reminder of the unwavering support he always provided, a beacon of light in your darkest moments. As he began to tend to your bruise, you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you, knowing that you were not alone in facing your demons.

"There, it should be able to not hurt as much, but still be careful." Zuka muttered, his hands laying on your elbows before pulling you into a hug. He kissed the top of your forehead, swaying slowly left and right. In that moment, you realized how lucky you were to have someone like Zuka in your life. His presence brought a sense of comfort and reassurance that everything would be okay in the end. With a deep breath, you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to fully embrace the warmth of his embrace.

DOM.

You understood that popularity wasn't your thing.

So did Dom.

But when it came to paparazzi, it was horrible.

Every day, you had to live with trying to cover yourself from photographers and fangirls that would pretrude on your residence.

Sometimes, I even have to deal with harassment every morning because of it.

It overwhelmed you a lot, especially when you just wanted to be with your partner.

You'd have to watch Paparazzi get scared off by Firebrand.

But one night, you had a weird text come through.

Some anonymous fangirl who had threatened the lives of you and Dom's

It was terrifying and heartbreaking to see such threats made against you for just having Dom as a partner.

Of course, you didn't want to bring it up.

Why bring up something that you can totally deal with yourself?

Oh, how you were wrong.

Days on end, you were getting texts and calls.

It made you unbearably grouchy, and Dom could tell.

When it started to get mentally twisty, your arms became a stress reliever for you.

That's when Dom had to step in after finding you in your bed, completely drained.

The phone is going off constantly.

"My Eminence, what seems to be the matter? You've been locked in your room for days."

All you could do was croak and fall to tears.

"I can't do this anymore, Dom, the calls, the messages!—"

He was shocked when he heard your phone go off again—another call.

When you went to pick it up, Dom grabbed it first before you.

A snarky, swearing demon screamed on the other side.

Death-threats and others, it was revolting to hear.

"Who is this? You best own yourself up, you freak. Harassing my girlfriend? I'll have you burnt to a crisp," and boy, that shut them up real good.

You were shaky, taking deep breaths to calm yourself down as Dom hung up and placed the phone flat on its screen.

His eyes seemed to go from rage to soft care and worry.

"My Eminence, my Universe, why didn't you tell me about this?"

You fell into his caring arms once more.

Maybe, just maybe, if you weren't afraid of speaking up, this would've ended.

The thoughts grew stronger, and he could tell.

"My Universe, Eminence, don't let thoughts that may fill your mind with unneeded water fill your mind; it was not your fault; it's okay to be afraid if you can't speak up about that stuff."

You only let out a shaky breath, a sniffle, and a sob.

"I was so afraid you'd hate me that you'd call me horrible things."

His heart broke, and you couldn't trust him at all.

"Oh, my star's goddess, I'd never hate you; I'm worried sick! Please, never ever let yourself be afraid to inform me of such poverty."

You only let out a smile and a confirming nod, which he took in as an answer.

"How about we go to your favorite store, hm? The one you love dragging me to."

SCYTHE.

Days were growing overwhelming by the second.

When you decided to move to Lost Temple as one to join Scythe, you didn't expect it to be so hard unboxing everything and walking down the streets in opposite attire.

Lost Temple and Thieves Den had entirely different aesthetics, especially for you.

Scythe knew how hard it is to change factions, especially with how they are looked down upon.

"Angel Eyes, is that you?"

You had only been ridiculed a few hours before Scythe's return home from work.

Sobbing endlessly, it never seemed to stop.

"Angel Eyes?"

Her voice was more worried as she soon began to kick down the door.

You had forgotten to get her a spare key, but mostly because of the stuff going on.

They had been rejecting all offers to you, overpricing food access, etc.

It was overwhelming.

You were subjected to such measures of torment for even being there.

"Darling! I'm coming' in on a one, two."

You unlocked the door, letting out a loud click! The door is slowly sliding open.

"Aah, my dear. What's got 'ya lockin' the door so early?"

"Just some things, safety, and all that."

Scythe knew you were wrong, as for the look in your eyes.

"Angel Eyes, I know what's up; how's about you letting me in?"

You nodded, letting her in as you watched her march on in and grab onto you.

She dragged you onto her lap as she spread her legs across the couch, laying her mechanical weapon down on the side.

Her hands lay on your hands and thighs, staring up at you.

She could see the tears that twinkled ever so neatly.

"Ya' been cryin'; what's the matter?"

"Just... some things happen, Scythe."

"Just some things, ay?"

You nodded, but she knew much more than you did.

Her eyes stared gently into yours, a gloved hand reaching to lay neatly on your cheek. Scythe sighed. "Sugar, You know you can always talk to me, right?" She whispered softly, her voice filled with genuine concern. You knew you were afraid to open up, but you did so anyway. You were hesitant.

"Some of the people in this town don't like me at all. "You really don't like me at all." Scythe's expression softened as she listened, her hand gently rubbing your cheek in a comforting gesture. "I'm sorry to hear that, sugar. But don't you worry, I've got your back," she reassured you with a warm smile. You felt a wave of relief wash over you, grateful for her unwavering support in the face of adversity.

"You're a good person, and that's all that matters," Scythe added, her eyes filled with understanding. With her by your side, you felt a newfound sense of courage to face the challenges ahead. "I know, I'm just... afraid? What if something happens to me?" Scythe's eyes darkened as she nodded. Something could happen to you if you weren't careful or someone took your presence wrongly.

"Stay vigilant and trust your instincts," she advised, her voice firm yet comforting. With Scythe's guidance, you knew you had a strong ally to help navigate the uncertainties that lay ahead. "And the broker is always a call away." Broker was a close friend of yours, so you knew what to do if Scythe wasn't around to support you.

"You got me, sugar?" Scythe asked, fingers holding onto your chin as you stared and nodded. "Yes, Scythe." She let out a smile. "That's my good, angel."

SUBSPACE.

THE GREATEST INVENTOR OF ALL OF BLACKROCK!! And he's YOUR partner!

If that didn't risk you getting strange looks from others and such an overwhelming reputation in Blackrock,.

Subspace was always busy, sometimes never having as much time as you two used to as kids.

After Medkit's whole fasco, he's been going insane over the crystals while you watched you two lose time with each other.

You thought maybe, just maybe, Subspace would slowly forget about your own existence.

But you couldn't let those thoughts trick you! He'd never do so!!!!

That's if they weren't 'true' from the start of the gossip train.

"Did you hear? Subspace was out with another demon!"

"Isn't he supposedly with someone already?"

It was heartbreaking to find out that your own partner had decided to spend time with someone entirely different, and even much longer than ever.

"I heard it was a date!"

"I feel bad for his actual partner; that's so sad."

Then, the mean comments started riding in about you.

Rumors.

Endless, endless rumors.

It was getting so much that you ended up attempting that very night.

Yours and Subspace's anniversary.

"MY PRECIOUS TREASURE!! I'M HOME!"

You sat in the bathtub, the pill bottle clear of any, as you slowly dunked your head.

"Precious? Where are you? I must tell you about my new biograft invention!!!"

Only a few more seconds, as the voice of his became nothing but a fine line of void.

The blaring light of the hospital ceiling eroded through your vision.

Was this heaven? Valhalla?

"MY PRECIOUS!!"

Subspace? Your partner? What's he doing here?

His arms wrapped around you as he sobbed. How could you do this to him? How could you leave him?

"Never, ever, do that again! You had me scared half to SOFTH!"

You stared at the pink-red demon that had been crying endlessly at you. You could tell by his puffy, red eyes.

"What happened?"

"I found you in the bathtub; I was lucky enough to even get to you in time."

The seriousness in his voice conveyed serious regret as you sobbed and cried.

"I don't deserve this; why'd you take me away? Why aren't you with the other person you met up with in the cafe?"

"ANOTHER PERSON!? What are you talking about, my precious?"

"The RUMORS!! Everyone's been talking about how you were on a date with someone else, cheating on me!!"

Subspace was confused. Is she cheating on you? Oh, he'd have his own creation chop his head off and finish him!

"Cheating!? My precious, my pearl, my gem! What ridiculous rumors you've managed to get ahold of! I'd never cheat on you, never!"

You stared at him.

"Really?"

"REALLY! I was just meeting up with Hyperlaser about my biografts and inventions! Nothing more! I had even purchased you fine, delicate flowers to put in your vase once more."

You were stunned— absolutely stunned. He never cheated on you; it was all a misunderstanding.

"But the proof? The…"

"Whoever was stalking us, my precious, it is not true! I love you with my fullest heart, and I would never replace you with anyone else. You deserve the world, if not the whole universe! I would do anything to make you happy, precious!!"

"Now, please, never pull such stunts again... I love you dearly!!!!"

Maybe, just maybe this wasn't so bad after all.

"Alright..."

"Rest, my gem!! I will be here always, from now on."

And so, you did.

[thefallennightmare]

Just Pretend: Chapter Twenty-Seven Teaser

Warning: This next chapter will be HEAVY. I wanted to give you all a notice to prepare yourselves. I'm hoping sometime in the next week or so it will be posted!

Also, if you haven't yet, PLEASE read Unveiled Hearts. Otherwise, you will be confused.

@blueskylinesx @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @loeytuan98 @artificialbreezy @marvelousmal @bngurngheart @lma1986 @dsireland86 @wild-child-7747 @calleyx13 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @exitwoundsx @shayzillaaaa @badomensls @princesspeach-00 @shadowseve @collective-heartbreak @klutzy-kay24 @sorrowsofsilence @sweetlittlekitsune @shilohrosechicken @itsafullmoon @toospooktocute @niicoleleigh @thatchickwiththecamera @hoe-for-daddywise @whenthesummerdies @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @thisbicc @sammyjoeee @joe9cool @ozwriterchick @teenblues @malice-ov-mercy @krisslee18 @xxkittenkissesxx @happi-goth @embracethereaper42 @softvgold @cncohshit @heyyoplayer @rain-down-on-me @bloody-delusion-expert @respectfulrebel @reader13000 @koskeepsake @malerieee @cheyyyyr @myownthoughts12 @noahsbong @laurpartyprogram @cloudykoookie @jessiskyee @a1ex-ba1ex @sideeyenoah @emzandthevoid @badomensls @bellaboo967 @waake-mee-up @rxdlstgn @anthemheatwave @lobolocaamo @cncohshit @amelia-acero @karenfranco @collidewiththesavannah @xserenax-13 @bleachampion @thepastelfae @supersquirrel1996 @madomens @themodern-daywednesday @oxythoughtin7715

TEASER BELOW THE CUT!

"Angel?" I called out into the cold darkness.

Stepping into the unfamiliar house, I shook the chilled rain from my jacket and hung it up on the hook next to the door. The aged wood of the floor creaked beneath my feet as I padded across it, after kicking off my shoes. There was a faint glow emanating from the lamp in the living room, casting my surrounding in a muted yellow as I set down the takeout bag on the counter.

Not like she would eat. She hasn't eaten anything in days.

The house while it was unfamiliar, I knew that the bones of the structure told a story; one of a man that loved his daughter very much and wished he was able to say goodbye. My socks slid against the floor as I followed the soft tune of music from the guest bedroom, passing the one room that had remained shut since we arrived a week ago; her refusing to open it.

"Y/N?" I tried again, hoping now that I was closer to the bedroom she'd be able to hear me. "I brought some ramen from the place down the road. Your favorite."

The only thing I heard was the same tune of music, louder now.

"I'm sorry I can't get out of bed. I'm sorry that my heads always a mess."

Joe.

She'd been playing the same nothing, nowhere song the entire afternoon, her drowning in his melodies when I left her earlier after our disagreement. I knew she wasn't in the right headspace with what she tried so I couldn't hold it against her. But there was no way I could do what she asked. Not now.

"Noah, please," her hands reached for my shirt, trying to pry it away from my skin. "I just need five minutes."

"Y/N," I tenderly held onto her wrists, halting her. "You're not in the right mind for this."

She wrenched her hands from my grip and knelt on the bed, grasping the waistband of my joggers, and began pulling them down. I fought against her as her hand slipped between my briefs and taking a hold of my cock, squeezing it.

"Make me forget this pain, Noah. Please."

Y/N attacked my lips with hers and for a brief moment, I sunk into the way she felt against me, her fingers gathering the precum from my cock, smearing it over the head. I shook in her touch as my mouth moved against hers. It had been so long since we were intimate, almost two weeks, and my soul had yearned for hers wanting to feel complete again.

But I knew this wasn't the right time. She was using me as an outlet for the pain she hid behind the smile on her face.

"This isn't right, angel," I gently pushed her away but kept a hold on her face. "I won't take advantage of you when you're like this."

Bloodshot and broken eyes stared up at me, soulless and lifeless, before she pushed me away to burrow herself under the covers again; where she'd been every day since the funeral.

Knocking on the open door, I peered inside expecting to see Y/N lying in bed where I left her but my heart stalled in my chest at the sight. The world came to a standstill as every single one of my senses was on high alert, panicked eyes dragging across every inch of empty space.

Shattered glass spilled onto the floor and a ripped piece of paper that was covered in blood with two simple words.

I'm Sorry.

[tima7fa]

Kids? Kids!

Your Best Friend Satoru Gojo Brought (Kidnapped) Some Kiddos.

This was supposed to be about family bonding but it ended up with reader bonding with gojo. A shitty attempt in making an argument. No use of y/n. Can be taken romantically or platonically idc honestly (Artist:imnotxreitive)

___________________________________________

This must be some sort of jest, a fleeting moment of mischief, surely? Alas, the reality before you is undeniable.

As a skilled sorcerer, your life has been progressing smoothly, enriched by the companionship of your closest friends - Utahime, Satoru, and Shoko. It was not at all unusual for them to visit your brand new apartment, eagerly assisting in its decoration, their enthusiasm often exceeding your own.

They would frequently remark on the comfortable, cozy atmosphere you had all cultivated together, each adding their own distinctive touch to the space. So the sight of Satoru, your perpetually mischievous white-haired friend, standing at your doorstep should not have elicited such wide-eyed astonishment.

Yet, it was not merely his presence that had seized your attention, but the unexpected company he had brought with him - two children. A young girl, her eyes alight with excitement, clasping the hand of the white-haired boy, while the other child, a boy, stood beside her, his gaze cast downward, fingers clutching hers tightly.

"Yo, long time no see! I know you missed me." Satoru snickered, unceremoniously pushing open your door. You had been gripping the doorknob, but the sudden movement caused your hand to slip, falling limply to your side. He strode in with a self-satisfied grin, the children trailing behind him. "Did you kidnap these two kids?" you marveled, closing the door and turning to face him, his back now to you.

Dramatically, Satoru spun around, feigning offense. "How could you accuse me of such a thing? You're so heartless!" he exclaimed, exaggerating his movement as he addressed you. "I would never do that! I'm the kindest soul on this earth!" Truly, a day could not pass without Satoru finding a moment to lavish praise upon himself, you thought, rolling your eyes.

"Who are these children? And where are their parents?" you inquired, tilting your head slightly. At the mention of their parents, the boy's mood seemed to sour, his expression growing more irritated, while the girl's demeanor became more somber. "Ah..I'm sorry! I didn't mean to.." you quickly apologized, crouching down to their level and offering a gentle, apologetical smile.

With a warm smile, you introduced yourself to the children, politely inquiring for their names as well. The girl seemed a bit hesitant, but eventually found her voice, stating, "I'm Tsumiki Fushiguro, and this is Megumi Fushiguro, my younger brother." As she spoke, she placed her hand gently on her chest, letting go of the white haired males hand, her large, doe-like eyes meeting your gaze. You couldn't help but find her utterly adorable.

"It took you longer to introduce yourselves to me," Satoru's voice complained from behind you. "Jealous?" you asked, grinning as you looked up at him from your crouched position.

"Very," he replied, scowling.

You chuckled softly as you stood up. "Alright, what would you all like to eat?" you inquired, your attention focused on the children.

After a moment of silence, during which they seemed to silently confer with one another, Tsumiki and Megumi spoke up, their voices overlapping.

"Oyakodon!"

"Kikufuku!"

You turned to Satoru in disbelief. "I didn't ask you," you sighed.

"Stop being so mean to me! Aren't I your best friend?" he whined, like a petulant child, latching onto your arm and shaking it playfully.

"Kikufuku is a dessert, not something you eat at this time." you gently chided, slipping your arm out of his grasp and looking back at the children. Tsumiki appeared dumbfounded by Satoru's behavior, while Megumi simply glared at him. You couldn't help but wonder what the white-haired troublemaker had done to earn the boy's ire.

"Oyakodon it is, then." you announced with a smile.

"What about my Kikufuku?" Satoru protested.

"Just go buy it yourself." you replied.

"I don't want to!" he whined.

___________________________________________

You emerged from your room, and it came as no surprise to see your white-haired friend still awake at this hour. Gojo Satoru never slept, for how could he when at any moment someone might need his help? You knew all too well the burden he had been carrying for years. "I thought you were asleep." he muttered, staring out the window, his gaze fixed on the nothingness beyond, lost in deep contemplation.

"How could I be, when I'm still not sure why my friend has kidnapped two children?" you hummed, making your way to the kitchen and retrieving a bottle of juice from the fridge. He chuckled softly, "You're still on that?" You poured the juice into two glasses and approached him, offering one.

"Why aren't you asleep?" you asked in return. "Insomnia," he replied, his stance shifting. "I can't stop thinking about everything." He shook his head solemnly. "You should go to sleep."

"Here," you said, extending the glass of juice towards Satoru, ignoring his suggestion about your own slumber. "Free alcohol?" he asked, looking down at you from his towering height. "Why would I want to get you drunk?" you retorted, standing beside him and gazing out the window, your own glass in hand. "Besides, you know I don't drink myself."

He took the glass from your outstretched hand, contemplating its contents for a moment before taking a sip.

"You still buy alcohol." he muttered as he took a sip from the glass of juice.

"For Utahime and Shoko, yeah." you hummed in response.

"Now, care to tell me why you kidnapped two kids?" you asked, taking a sip from your own glass.

"It was their father's dying wish, and you know me - I'm the kindest person on Earth," he began to ramble on, his ego on full display.

"Are those... Toji's children?" Satoru suddenly grew quiet.

"Yes," he replied.

"Why would you-" you started, but he cut you off.

"Because it's not the kids' fault for their parents' wrongdoings," he said firmly. "You do know that it's not your obligation to help everyone or anyone, right?" You sighed, running a hand through your hair.

"But it is my responsibility to protect everyone as the strongest." He huffed, taking another sip of his juice.

"Keeping everyone safe is not possible, and that is not your job as well. You know that, right?"

"...I know that. But as the strongest sorcerer, how can I live with myself if I let others suffer?" he said, sighing again. "I don't want to see others suffer like I did. Or die. So... I have to keep moving forward," he shook his head, "Even if my shoulders and back are breaking."

"How could they leave you to suffer?" you said, your voice filled with empathy. "You are a jujutsu sorcerer, not a hero. You only have to kill curses, not protect the weak. If that were possible, not a single human would have died until now." Perhaps you did sound a bit like Suguru Geto in that moment, but you couldn't help but have a great understanding of why he was doing what he was doing.

His brows knitted together in a deep furrow. "Yes, I comprehend the circumstances... but as the preeminent, I must take action." He said clenching his hands into tight fists. "The civilians, the government, everyone - they depend on me. I cannot stand idly by and merely observe their suffering, even if I lack the capacity to shield them completely. I must do something... otherwise, I cannot in good conscience call myself the supreme."

You addressed him with a harshly pointed tone. "Everyone deserves a break. You mustn't forget that you too are human." This notion of "responsibility of the strongest" is merely a fallacy. The mere fact of being the preeminent does not equate to an obligation to protect all. Perhaps you should not have grown so irritated, but this fool seems incapable of grasping your perspective.

His jaw tensed, the corners of his eyes twitching. "I cannot simply take a break. I cannot sit idle when everyone relies on me." He said, clenching his fist. "I cannot turn a blind eye as innocent civilians are slaughtered by curses day after day... I cannot..." His lips quivered.

"And I cannot bear to witness my friend slowly succumbing due to this mentality that society has thrust upon him!" You said with furrowed brows. "It is not your responsibility to safeguard everyone - please comprehend this. You are human, not a machine engineered solely for one purpose."

His body tensed even further, his fists trembling as his breathing grew heavy with anger. "If you were in my position... if you were the preeminent, you would understand." His voice shook and raised in volume, filling the room with palpable tension. "You cannot fathom what it is like - to have every eye upon you... with everyone's hopes resting on your shoulders..." He says, as tears welled up in his eyes. "There is no one who truly grasps my position, not even you..."

You struck him with an open palm, the impact resounding. "Wake up, already. I too am regarded as one of the mightiest sorcerers, and I am acutely aware of the multitudes who rely upon me." You spoke calmly. "Yet, did I allow it to consume me? No. I was not born solely to protect those people - my purpose is not to sacrifice myself as a human shield for the masses. For I am a human being, with my own thoughts, feelings, and a life to maintain."

His eyes widened, registering the sting of your strike. He stared at you, a turbulent mix of anger and shock in his gaze.

"Then do you not have duties? You are a sorcerer. You are expected to combat curses, to shield civilians. Would it not be cowardly to turn your back on the responsibilities bestowed upon you as the strongest?" He began to ramble frenetically. "Don't you think it selfish to refrain from using your powers to protect others? How naive you must be, to believe you can idly watch as others fight and perish without you!" He spat.

"Gojo Satoru, I implore you to be more selfish." Your words were laced with venom. "If my sole purpose is to safeguard everyone, then this world is fundamentally flawed! I would sooner take my own life than exist in such a twisted society that exploits the strong and favors the weak."

"...You are being selfish by willfully ignoring your obligations..." He mumbled, glaring at you, his hands trembling. He clenched his fists, taking a deep breath. "Your duty as a powerful sorcerer is to protect others... I don't care what you think. Even if you are not required to do so, the mere fact that you possess such strength means you are duty-bound, for you have the capacity to save them."

You drew a steadying breath, striving to regain your composure.

"That is a woefully misguided mindset..." He said, averting his gaze, his eyes narrowing further as the muscles in his knuckles tensed. "You possess immense strength. And with that power, you could protect and save countless lives... yet you simply choose not to? Do you believe that true strength is about serving one's own interests? That being strong is merely about living for oneself? That is the height of selfishness and weakness." His voice dripped with disdain. "No, the essence of strength lies in self-sacrifice for the sake of others. Your duty as one blessed with such formidable abilities is to utilize them in service of those who cannot defend themselves."

"If my sole purpose is to shield the weak, then this world is fundamentally flawed. Why the hell do you believe our purpose is dictated by our strength?! Why do you insist that we, as the strongest, must squander our lives for the vulnerable simply because society expects it of us?" You snapped, the glass you had been holding shattered as it hit the floor, spilling its contents. "If you deem me weak and selfish for refusing to succumb to this toxic mentality of the strong sacrificing themselves for the weak, then so be it!"

You advanced towards him, stepping on the shards of broken glass, your feet paying the price. He retreated slightly as his gaze fell upon the glass you had crushed underfoot, then returned to meet your unwavering stare. You raised a finger, pointing accusingly. "I will not become like you, Gojo Satoru. I refuse to be a slave to this warped societal construct. My purpose is not solely to exist for the sake of the weak."

"I appreciate your strength and your altruistic desire to protect others. It is truly admirable." You said, your tone taunting. "However, I believe that possessing great power does not automatically bestow the responsibility to shield the vulnerable." Your eye twitched with the pain radiating from your feet, but you refused to yield. "Responsibility and obligation are moral concepts that transcend mere physical might. They arise from conscious choice, empathy, and a sense of duty."

His expression was unreadable as he turned and walked towards the door, leaving your apartment for good. You scoffed after he closed the door behind him. "Coward.." you muttered, before making your way to the bathroom to tend to your injury. You carefully removed the shattered glass from your feet and washed away the blood under the running water.

Limping out of the bathroom, you cursed under your breath as you retrieved the first-aid kit. You didn't want to bother Shoko with this minor incident, and it was already quite late. Settling on the couch, you opened the kit and prepared some antiseptic liquid and a cotton ball. You began tapping the cotton against the wounds on your feet, wincing at the sting. "Fuck.." you hissed, sucking in a sharp breath.

"Let me do it."

Your head snapped up at the sound of Gojo Satoru's cold, unyielding voice. You watched as he rounded the couch and sat at the table in front of you, gently placing your feet on his thighs. After retrieving a plastic bag filled with various medical supplies, he glanced at you. "I can handle this myself." you protested, trying to pull your legs back, but his grip on your ankles tightened, though his touch remained gentle. "I insist. I will tend to your wounds."

Resigned, you relented and allowed him to take the cotton ball from your hand. He began meticulously cleaning and dressing your injuries, his movements precise and careful. You clenched your fists against the couch as the antiseptic stung, hissing in discomfort.

"I'm sorry.." he suddenly murmured, his voice cracking with emotion. Normally, his eyes would be obscured by his thick black shades, but with his head lowered, you caught a glimpse of them. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and the usual light seemed to have dimmed, leaving a somber, haunted gaze.

"...I'm sorry as well-" you responded, your words barely above a whisper.

"I hate arguing with you. I don't like it at all. It's my fault, I shouldn't have snapped like that. I just... I don't know, I'm sorry. I'm such an asshole, I didn't mean to hurt you, but I couldn't stop running my mouth like an ignorant prick. Please, forgive me. I don't like being in conflict with you—"

"It's fine," you interrupted, your hand reaching up to his cheek, which had reddened from the slap. You felt guilty for having struck him. "I'm at fault as well. I also got irritated and even slapped you. I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry. I don't like arguing with you either, Satoru."

Your eyes were filled with remorse as you tenderly brushed your hand against his cheek.

His hand reached up to cover yours as he leaned his head into your touch. "Don't feel guilty for slapping me. I deserved it." he murmured against your palm, sending shivers through your hand. "Besides, your slap was weak. It didn't hurt much." he added with a teasing smirk.

You pulled your hand away, scowling and crossing your arms in annoyance. "You're such an annoying guy. I don't even know why I'm friends with you."

"I'm the best annoying guy, though. Don't forget that. Besides, you know you love me." He chuckled softly before turning his attention to the wound care supplies on the table.

"You bought a lot of these creams," you hummed, glancing at the plastic bag.

"Didn't know which one would be best." he shrugged as he began carefully bandaging your feet.

"Thanks.." you murmured softly, but sincerely. He understood, giving you a warm smile that you gladly returned.

Satoru stood up, closing the first aid kit after putting the things he had bought back inside. He then proceeded to clean up the broken glass and the blood that had been scattered around the house. You silently watched as he diligently tended to the mess, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for having him there.

Once he had finished, Satoru came and sat down beside you on the couch. "Now what?" you marveled, glancing over at him.

"Wanna watch a movie?" he suggested with a grin, taking the remote from the table.

"Sure." you agreed, and he turned the television on, deciding on a zombie apocalypse film.

Afterward, Satoru quickly laid his head in your lap, stretching his long legs across the couch so that they were left hanging over the arms. Without a word, you reached down and gently placed your hand on his head, immediately beginning to run your fingers through his soft, silver hair. A content smile never left his lips as he closed his eyes, seemingly relaxing into your touch.

It wasn't long before you heard his gentle snoring, realizing that he had indeed been exhausted. He had been carrying the burden of protecting everyone since birth, a mindset that had been forced upon him. You wished you could somehow ease his pain and his burdens, wanting to do so much for him because he truly deserved the world.

Carefully, you removed the sunglasses from his eyes and continued to tenderly stroke his hair, your heart aching for this remarkable man who had given so much of himself.

If anyone deserved a break, it was Satoru Gojo.

If anyone deserved an apology from every single person on this planet, it was Satoru Gojo.

He deserved the world.

___________________________________________

You awoke with a start, finding yourself in your own bed. Memories of being with Satoru on the couch came rushing back, and you realized he must have moved you here. But where were the two children?

Quickly, you stood up, forgoing your usual routine of neatly folding your blanket. The most pressing concern now was to check on Satoru and the kids. You hoped they hadn't left, as your apartment could feel so lonely without their company.

You walked to the door, taking a deep breath before turning the handle and stepping out. The delightful aroma of eggs immediately hit your nostrils, drawing you towards the kitchen.

There you saw Satoru, wearing your apron, humming a tune. To your surprise, the young girl, Tsumiki, was humming along with him. Megumi sat at the table, arms crossed, observing the scene with a pensive gaze.

"Already awake?" Satoru acknowledged, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile.

"Yeah, just seconds ago." you nodded, slowly approaching the kitchen and focusing on the pan where Satoru was expertly preparing tamagoyaki.

"What are you making?" you asked.

"Tamagoyaki." he replied, gently rolling the half-set egg, then pouring in more of the mixture and repeating the process until the omelette was complete.

Suddenly, Satoru spoke up, "Listen, I'll be going on a mission overseas. If you don't mind, will you take care of the kids?"

Your eyes narrowed, and you huffed, "Those damn higher-ups can't give you a break, can they?" Satoru chuckled softly.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure these two have a great time here."

You hummed, glancing at the children at the table.

"I really can't thank you enough..."

"Don't," you interrupted. "That's what friends are for, aren't they?"

Satoru smiled. "Yeah. That's what friends are for."

Turning serious, you looked at Satoru and said, "Satoru, don't you dare die, or I'll kill you myself."

"I'm the strongest, why-" he began, but you cut him off.

"Just promise me that you'll come back."

"...I promise."

[pathologicalreid]

hiii :)) I just wanna say I absolutely love your work, and I love the way you write Spencer! I squeal everything I get a notification from you, honestly.

please could I request a spencer reid x female!reader where the reader suffers from trichotillomania (a hair pulling disorder.) One day spencer walks in on her having an "episode" where she stands in front of the mirror and starts pulling her hair (mostly her eyelashes) and she tries to stop but the urge to keep doing it is too strong and she physically can't stop herself. So spencer gently moves her away from the mirror and comforts her when she starts crying because she just can't seem to stop doing it and she's frustrated at herself. So he talks her through it gently and gives her advice and maybe he throws in a few positive facts to help her calm down?

Im so sorry if you find this a bit weird and you can totally just ignore this but this is something that I suffer from personally and its gotten really bad lately. So I just thought this would maybe ease it a little bit :) tysm!

resilient | S.R.

in which your boyfriend lends you a hand when your own are working against you

who? spencer reid x fem!reader

category? hurt/comfort

content warnings: possibly triggering for those with trichotillomania or other compulsions. please take caution when reading and take care of yourselves. mentions of anxiety and therapy. reader is referred to as "sweetheart".

word count: 879

a/n: hi anon! thank you for requesting! i'm so sorry this took me so long to write! i wanted to make sure i did thorough research while also trying to balance finals and work, but i finally think it turned out pretty good. i hope you like it and i love you very much.

The door squeaked open, but you didn’t hear it. Sometimes it felt like you were in your own little world, just stood in front of the mirror. It started with a long day at work, and it ended with pulling.

When you were younger, you pulled from your scalp so much that you couldn’t wear your hair down. In college, you moved to your eyelashes. Your therapist explained to you that it was how your brain dealt with stress. The way some people exercise or drink, you pull your hair out.

You got a new therapist when you moved to Virginia, you tested healthy coping habits and tried to find methods that would prevent you from pulling. A few days ago, you tried band-aids on your fingertips, but they fell off and instead of replacing them, you just pulled.

Just a few, you told yourself. Just a few to help the anxiety, you tried to bargain with your brain that was actively working against you. You put your hands down at your sides, constantly flexing your fingers before lifting your hands to your eyes again.

A hand placed on yours brought you out of your bubble, and you jumped slightly when you looked ahead of you and weren’t met with your reflection, but rather the familiar eyes of your boyfriend. Golden on the inside, just as they’d always been. “What’s wrong?” He asked you, clasping both of your hands in his and bringing them down between your bodies.

It was never his intention, but you couldn’t help but feel like a deer in the headlights. A child caught getting into something they shouldn’t have. “I don’t- I didn’t… I thought…” You stammered, not quite knowing the words you wanted to use to describe the struggle.

You looked over your shoulder at the mirror as Spencer gently led you into your bedroom, one of two designated ‘no mirror’ zones in the apartment. “It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice gentle as he tried to console you. “What do you need? What can I do?”

At his concern, your face crumpled, and tears welled in your eyes, “I’m so sorry, Spence.” You whispered, your voice warbling through the tears. Hot streams of water ran down your face, “I thought that I could just do a little. I thought I could stop,” you were fully crying now.

He shook his head, “this is a compulsion, sweetheart. You can’t just be done with it, okay? It’s alright to have bad days,” he told you, moving one of his hands to wipe the tears from under your eyes. “Recovery from trichotillomania takes time, but I’m here.” He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, “I’m here for all of it.”

You knew that he meant well, but his words just made more tears well in your eyes, “You’re so good.” You whispered, “I wish I was stronger.”

“You are the strongest person that I know,” he told you, holding both of your hands in his, skimming the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “You are so strong, and you can overcome this. It just takes time,” he told you, his voice was strong and reassuring. If he believed you were this resilient, then you would just have to live up to that.

Your shoulders slouched forward, “I didn’t like the band-aids.” You admitted they made it hard to do things, and the sticky residue they left on your fingers made you uncomfortable.

He looked at your hands thoughtfully, “I read about someone who used petroleum jelly on their fingers to dissuade them from pulling. Would you be willing to try that?”

Nodding slowly, you wiggled your fingers, the petroleum jelly would make your fingers too slippery to pull your eyelashes out. You’d have to be good at reapplying, though. “Sure,” you whispered, the last of your tears running to a stop on your cheeks and neck.

Spencer sat you down on the bed before walking into the bathroom and you wrapped your arms around yourself self-consciously.

“How was work?” You called out, it wasn’t often Spencer left in the morning and came back that same evening.

In the bathroom, you heard the cabinet opening and closing, Spencer sighed. “A lot of the same. People commit crimes, I find them,” he said, walking back into the bedroom with a container in hand.

Gingerly, Spencer took your hand and started applying a layer of petroleum jelly to your fingers, focusing on your fingertips. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, focusing your eyes on your hands.

“I understand that your anxiety is making you feel like you need to apologize, but I really wish you wouldn’t apologize. Not to me, and not for this,” he murmured.

You took a deep breath, “I’m… Thank you,” you corrected yourself.

He hummed, lifting your hands so you could see how they shone, “This doesn’t define you, you know that, right? ‘The whole is greater than the sum of the parts’, and I love all of you. Even the parts of yourself that you don’t love.”

Your head lifted, and the corner of your mouth quirked up, “Did you just quote Aristotle at me?”

Spencer nodded gently, “I quoted Aristotle to you.”

Despite yourself, you smiled, “I love you too.”

[wonton4rang]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

that's not how this works.

pairing: sungho x reader.

warnings: +18, smut, mentions of cheating.

summary: based on charlie puth's song 'that's not how it works', with some changes because yes. basically cheater coming back and sungho fucking the shit out of you < 3

note: small thought i had to get out, wrote this in like 15 min, did not check anything so it might have typos but omg sungho is soooo hot 😭😭😭

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

sungho was never the type to sleep around, he is a very relationship centered boy, he loved to have something stable with an specific person to woke up to and think about when things were getting heavy on his daily life.

he loved to have dates, go to the park and sit down on a mat while you ate whatever and talked about everything while laughing like it was the funniest thing. he loved to stay late nights at your place and kiss you for so long you both wouldn't even notice when you fell asleep until you woke up the other morning with the boy arms around your waist and his head on your shoulder while cuddled you from the back.

it was all so lovely. so endearing and everyone, including yourselves could see this long term.

that until you messed up.

sungho couldn't believe his eyes the day he was texting you while walking down the street, smiling like a dummy to his phone screen.

"i miss you so much, baby, can i make you dinner at my place today?" sungho typed.

"awww, i miss you so much too, sungho :( but i can't today, i have so much work to do with the finals. i'm so sorry..."

and sungho was not even going to complain, the opposite, in fact, he was going to offer you help or at least offer to send you food to your place for you to study in peace.

but he got distracted when he heard your voice a few meters away, you were standing in front of that cafe you both loved so much with your phone on your hands, apparently waiting for his answer and he just smiled candidly at your sight.

he loved you so much.

right before he could lift his hand and call your name another person joined the frame, making him frown his eyebrows when the boy held your waist and you just looked at him with a wide smile, putting your phone away and walking down the street with the other male holding your hand.

and he wasn't even mad right now, he was just confused as to what the fuck just happened. he might've got it wrong, right? maybe that boy was a family member or a close friend, not necessarily a lover, right?

oh, boy. sungho was trying by all means to make this a misunderstanding.

sad thing for him it wasn't. cause when you guys met the next day and he mentioned that he saw you at the cafe, you went pale, your hands shaking and you suddenly stuttering a lot with every word you said.

at the end he just called it quits after a few weeks of you ignoring him and his words whenever he brought the subject up.

changing the subject with a "oh my god, not this again, babe, i already explained this. i don't wanna talk about it"

but as much as sungho loved you, he wasn't a fan of cheaters or toxic environments so he just broke up with you, not giving you much details but his words being very blunt and explicit.

"i've loved you for many years but i can't be in a relationship were i am the only one committed. i don't like cheaters and i no longer feel comfortable with you. i wish you the best, thank you for everything you gave me"

and he was truly thankful because even though he cried like a baby for a whole month while going to sleep, ignoring your messages and not picking up your calls, he was thankful for the good moments and the bad ones too. he got great memories and a good lesson.

what he didn't expect was you in front of his apartment when he came back from college that night, looking so sorry but he knew better than that so he just passed by your side and opened his door without saying a thing, barely reacting when you pushed him away and got inside his house.

"what are you doing here? i thought i was clear when i said i didn't wanna see you anymore" he said still standing on his door frame, making space for you to leave as he said: "go away"

"i've missed you so much, i'm... i'm so sorry, sungho, i made a mistake and i-"

"we already talked about this, y/n" his voice sounded tired, he was in fact, because he couldn't believe you were so shameless to show up to him like this right when he was getting over you. "i don't care about your excuses, we are not a thing anymore"

"but we could be"

"no, we couldn't"

"but i-"

"you're not gonna leave?"

"please just let me talk"

"i already left you talk and all you could say was bullshit, y/n, i'm done with you, i don't want to be with you anymore and i sincerely hope you could understand that because you hurt me, okay?"

"why you gotta be so hot when you're mad?" sungho just chuckled, closing the door behind him and looking at you with his tilted head, bottom lip between his teeth and his expression yelling 'what am i supposed to do with you?', and honestly, you were up for anything.

"you gonna do the same to him too?" was all he said, swallowing when you got close to him, caressing his shoulders with a sly smile that made him tense.

"we broke up"

and even though sungho tried to play it nice, he wanted to be the bigger person so bad, he just wanted to keep it healthy. but here you were, too close to be apart and too hot to be ignored.

sungho was a weak man.

so he just took you in for a kiss, but not the soft type as you guys were used to, he grabbed the back of your head to press your lips harder and your arms hugged his waist to get closer.

you guys were just so hungry for each other.

sungho's hands were all over your body, holding your hips, your shoulders and then your face, his tongue getting in your mouth and making your pussy leak cause he knew how you liked it.

it didn't take him long to walk against you, your back pressing against the boy's bedroom door before he opened it and threw you on the bed. your eyes were sparkling when you looked at him take his shirt off and lay upon you to continue the kiss.

your legs were open and sungho's hips kept rolling against your clothed cunt, making you tremble and moan during the kiss, your nails pressing on the skin of his wide back and making him groan too.

"fuck, i need you" he said before attacking your neck, playing with your sanity when he started moaning against your skin, leaving long trails with his mouth before he looked you in the eye. "can i?"

and there was a reason you were there at night.

you just nodded and felt him unbuckling your pants, caressing the skin on your thighs when he pulled them down with your panties.

his eyes stayed fixated on your pussy, licking his lips before shaking his head to come back to his senses. he wanted to eat you out so bad but he knew he shouldn't, not right now. he had to fuck you.

and so he did.

he unbuckled his own pants and pulled out his dick, sliding it between your wet folds and making your legs shake a bit at the feeling. damn, you really missed it. but it got even better when he finally pressed his head in your entrance, looking at you like you were the most delicious meal, foxy eyes being slightly covered by his hair and his lips looking so wet that it made you clench your pussy. he was, in fact, the most delicious meal you ever got.

"you have condoms?" he inquired and you just denied with your head, your hands pressing on his back.

"please, get in" sungho kinda pulled back at that because he was not used to fuck you without protection, but you held him close and looked at him with that bright eyes that made him weak "please"

not a single word left his lips when he was pushing inside and once he got in, you had to arch your back, moaning at the stretch, sungho was definitely gifted, not huge but a nice size and width. and the best part was that he actually knew how to use it.

he held your hips and thrusted in a few times before actually starting to moan himself, biting his lip and your hands tangled in his hair, gosh, he loved when you did that.

his weight dropped a little bit in top of you, his lips moving quickly to find yours and start a desperate kiss while his hips kept speeding up, making your body move against the sheets and your hair get all messed up.

but you really didn't mind to be messed up, not when it was sungho the one who messed you up.

and he knew that. everyone fucking knew that.

"you feel so good, sungho" you muttered when he left your lips and hid his face on your neck, crying a little bit out of pleasure there and making your pussy clench "fuck, you're so hot"

"stop saying that" but you know he loved it, his body spoke for him the things his words were denying "my god, you're so wet and warm"

"just for you"

"you suck me in s-so well" he continued, this time leaving your neck to look at you while he pounded your tight cunt "perfect for my dick, and just my dick, right, baby?"

"yes, i'm only yours, please"

and to be honest you both were edging at this point, so you just left yourself go and started matching sungho's thrusts to chase your own high, smiling when his hand grabbed softly around your neck, hard enough to make you feel the rush but not as hard to hurt you.

"i'm cumming" he announced and even though you thought he may want to pull out, he didn't, instead he pressed himself so deep in your pussy that you shaked when you felt him in your cervix.

"dammit" you moaned when the warm liquid filled you, making you feel so dirty, full and even wetter that it made your orgasm arrive while sungho's softly grinded his hips against your clit "oh god, w-wait"

"i know you fucking love it"

and you did.

but it was kinda sad though because as soon as you came, he pulled out, started putting his pants back on and looking for his shirt on the bedroom floor.

you looked at him confused because he never, and i mean NEVER, left you like that after having sex, where was the after care? he didn't even kiss you or said you did well.

the next thing was what actually made you snap, him giving you your pants with a serious look in his face.

"what?" his voice was neutral, no feeling on it, not happiness, not anger, nothing.

"what's wrong?" you said while you took your pants and looked at him, you were still full of his cum, he didn't even pass you a tissue or a paper towel to clean yourself.

"about what? ain't you leaving?"

"sungho, what the fuck is this?" the sound of anger in your voice made sungho look at you confused while you put your pants on "we just had sex, why are you treating me like this?"

"we are not dating, i was pretty clear about that"

"but we just..." he just stayed put, listening to whatever you were going to say "i thought we made up"

"wow, for real? i'm not that easy though" and you damn knew his words had a double meaning when he just looked at you and laughed "anyways, get out of my apartment, let's get you a taxi, it's late"

and you couldn't say anything against it, he was right, you guys were not together, he never said he'll forgive you and, to be honest, you kinda had it coming.

but you tried one last time before he left your side once you got in the taxi.

"sungho, i am really sorry, he is not as good as you and i... i honestly miss you so much, can't we just try again?"

"you know that's not how it works, y/n. did you really break up with him before coming here?" you went silent and he got his answer "yeah, i thought so. i don't fuck with cheaters, pun intended, you can't be coming over or calling me each time you feel lonely or he fucks up"

"but i-"

"i don't deserve that. and neither does he" he cut you up and it was basically game over "get her home safe, sir, please"

the taxi man just nodded and the car finally left, you feeling like the worst person in the world while you texted your current boyfriend that you were going home.

sungho just watched the car go and smiled for himself because he knew you'll come back but this time it won't be the same as before.

because now sungho knew the drill. he was just wishing on a star that he would be able to push you away when you came back because that's not how it was supposed to work.

[pinkdaiisies]

Where’s your boyfriend? Dale Cooper x reader

Summary: Reader looks forward to Dale's routine morning visit to the Double R diner. The two have grown quite close and Dale finally has something to ask her.

Based off of this request Hello, I hope you are doing well! I was wondering if I may request a fic with Dale cooper where the reader (female reader please) is a waitress at the Double R Diner and he asks her out on a date! Coop definitely loves how she makes coffee and is absolutely smitten with the reader... anyway!

Notes: EEEEEE I haven't written anything in soooooooo long. I'm really proud of this and I love Dale so much!!!! I hope you enjoyyy

Word Count: 1285

Dale had been going into the Double R diner every morning since he had arrived at Twin Peaks. Even though the sheriff's department served coffee and donuts every day, Dale couldn't stop himself from sitting down at the same stool every morning for a cup of coffee. If someone asked Dale why he went there every day, he probably would've lied and said something about the quality of their coffee or pie, but deep down Dale knew the real reason why he went there every day. A certain waitress had caught his eye.

The day Dale showed up at the diner you had been quite frightened with the talk of murder going around town. When the tall man in a fancy suit told you he was an FBI agent and he was here to catch the killer you immediately felt a lot safer. You both introduced yourselves and started to chat while Dale enjoyed his cup of coffee. Your first impression of Dale was that he was very intelligent, extremely handsome, and his jokes were a little bit silly. There weren't a lot of guys like him in Twin Peaks.

It soon became Dale's morning ritual to wake up early and head to the diner before he had to go to the station. He heavily enjoyed your company while he drank his coffee. Being with you allowed Dale to escape the scary reality which the Laura Palmer case brought. Your conversations with Dale made you forget of the boring monotonous days the diner gave, each day fading into the next. Dale visiting you every morning gave you something to look forward to. If you got lucky, he would visit another time later in the day with the Sheriff and Deputies Hawk and Brennan.

Norma soon noticed that when you arrived at work in the mornings you were much happier and bubbly than you had been for a while. She also noticed when Dale Cooper walked through those doors, the other tables were not being tended to. Norma understood what was happening between you and the FBI agent. She didn't mind taking a few more orders and cleaning a couple more tables while you flirted away with Cooper.

One morning you had arrived at work earlier than you usually do. You had woken up extra early because you were looking forward to seeing Dale today. You knew your hair looked especially good today too because you kept checking your reflection on the side of the coffee pots.

You made a special pot of strong coffee just for Dale and continued to take customers orders. Even after serving their food and cleaning their tables, there was no sign of the agent. You began to feel disappointed. You had put so much effort into how you look this morning all for Dale to be a no show.

"Where's your FBI agent boyfriend?" Shelly teased while pouring a cup of coffee for a customer.

"I'm wondering the same thing! and he's not my boyfriend." You smirked at Shelly. Everyone could tell that the conversations between you and Dale meant a lot to each other. Dale Cooper had even gotten a handful of teasing from Sheriff Truman. The tension between you two couldn't go unnoticed by anyone.

Almost as if he was summoned, Dale Cooper walked through the diner doors. He immediately caught your attention, and you two smiled at each other. On instinct, you grabbed a mug from under the counter and poured the agent a cup of his coffee as he sat down in his usual stool.

"Good morning y/n! I'm sorry that I'm later than usual." Dale said with a smile on his face. You could tell his apology was sincere.

"That's okay Dale. You don't have to apologize." You said while putting the coffee pot back on the warmer, checking your reflection one last time.

When you turned back around to him, Dale was looking at you intently like he had something important to say. He made eye contact with you and didn't break it. Silence ensued.

"I'm sorry, how rude of me! How is your morning going?" Dale said after a second of awkward silence. He is such a gentleman you thought to yourself. No man in Twin Peaks has ever been so considerate of your feelings. Dale knew how to make you feel seen and heard.

"Better now that you've arrived," You smiled, "I thought you were a no show for a minute." Dale's nerves settled when he heard this. Knowing that you were happy to see him made what he was about to ask much easier.

"y/n. I wouldn't miss your coffee for the world." He said while lifting his coffee in the air then taking a sip. You giggled, your coffee couldn't have been that revolutionary. He smiled and then put his cup down. The look that Dale's eyes had before came back. He looked into your eyes and suddenly seemed nervous. "Can I tell you something?" He said while not once breaking eye contact. You however did break eye contact. It was nerve racking to know that as an FBI agent, Dale has to know how to read people. He was probably taking in all of your micro expressions and analyzing them every time that you spoke to each other. Hell! He probably knew that you had a crush on him!

"You can tell me anything Dale." It was true. You both learned to trust each other throughout the short time that Dale has been in town. Every conversation with him felt easy, you felt like you could tell Dale anything as well.

"I've really enjoyed getting to know you throughout my stay at Twin Peaks. Visiting you every morning has been a highlight of my day." His words made your cheeks blush. You didn't think that Dale's feelings were similar towards your own. "I was wondering y/n, if you'd enlighten me with the pleasure of having dinner together tonight. That is if you don't have any prior commitments."

Your world stopped spinning. It felt like you and Dale were the only two souls in the diner. That was until you heard a giggle coming from Shelly who was close by helping another customer.

"Of course. I'd love to Dale! That sounds great." You flashed him a smile. It felt like the diner got 30 degrees hotter, but that was just the effect that Dale had on you. You were oblivious but you had the same effect on Dale too.

"Great! I can pick you up at your place at 5:30." Dale had a lovesick smile on his face. He could stare at you all day if was able to. Dale took one last gulp from his coffee and stood up from his seat. "I'll see you tonight."

"Goodbye Dale! I'm looking forward to it." You smiled and waved to Dale while he walked out of the diner while somehow keeping his eyes on you. He was about to walk out of the diner door when he stopped himself. He peered his head back through the door.

"One last thing!" You looked back at the agent. "Your hair looks beautiful y/n." Then he walked out and let the door shut behind him.

Shelly and Norma could've sworn that they've never seen a smile that big on your face ever.

"Well he sure does seem like your boyfriend now!" Shelly said. You and Shelly giggled and squealed together like schoolgirls. Norma watched the happy expression on your face from the cash register. She was glad that you found someone that made you that happy.

Dale walked outside to his car while pulling out his tape recorder.

"Diane! I have a date tonight!"

[winterlogysblog]

Percy Platoon meeting King

Nasiens: Please behave yourselves in front of him.

Donny: Don't worry we wouldn't dare be rude

Anne: *bows* Lord Fairy King, I must thank you for taking such good care of our friends.

Donny: *bows* Right, we are truly grateful.

Lancelot: *rolls his eyes* You guys are so stiff.

Donny: *whisper yells* Lancelot, Nasiens told us to behave, do you even realize who you're talking to?!

Lancelot: Of course I do. Besides, you guys need to relax a bit. You're acting like he'll smite you at any given time.

Anne: *whisper yells* Hey he just might, now shut up! Here I thought you're the smart one!

Lancelot: Has Nasiens also been like this during his stay here?

King: Well, I did tell him to ignore my title and just relax but it seems like he's quite uncomfortable with the very thought of it.

Lancelot: *sighs* Sorry about that.

King: It's quite alright. Besides, I'm glad that you brought him here.

Lancelot: Right... I didn't expect that I'll be the reason that you get to see him again. Regardless, I'm quite proud that it's me.

King: Thank you Lancelot *pats him on the head*

Lancelot: *smiles*

Anne and Donny:

Nasiens: Yeah... About that... A lot of things happened and I learned a few things about myself.

Donny: And that is...

Nasiens: I'mafairyandthelonglostchildofthefairykingandgiantqueen

Anne: Hold on, could you repeat that. Slowly, this time

Nasiens: I'm a fairy and the long lost child of the fairy king and giant queen

Anne and Donny:

Lancelot: Which makes me your cousin *grins*

Anne, Donny and Nasiens:

[louscartridge]

JIUNG X GN READER

I do not give permission for my fics to be posted claiming to be yours, translated, or posted on another platform without credit.

Cw- making out, very little swearing, reader and jiung call each other baby a few times, grinding/dry humping. Honestly I don't even remember. Lmk if I missed anything!!

Summery- a sleepy, somewhat steamy start of the day with your boyfriend jiung, exept you both have places to be.

a/n- ngl this is a request that I wrote a few months ago and I completely forgot about it?? I think I thought I already posted it tbh. So to whoever requested this, I'm sorry and I hope you see this 😭

you had started it, to an extent. the two of you were watching a movie a few hours before the both of you had to leave for work, so it was pretty early. 

you had noticed jiung was starting to fall asleep- result in neither of you sleeping at all yet- but you knew it wouldnt be good for either of you to fall asleep so close to when you had to get going. 

you grabbed his hand and brought it up in the air before swinging it back down again, letting your hands hit his thigh. 

“hey baby. say awake, yeah?” you said quietly but sternly, earning nothing but a “mhm” from your boyfriend. 

shortly after, you feel his head fall onto your sholder. you look over and see his eyes slowly lolling closed as he fights to keep them open. you look at him for a bit, admiring his features. contomplating if you should just let him sleep. he looks to pretty to deny him of something that he despretly needs. his soft breathing, puffy cheeks, bare face, cute nose, lips slightly agepe. god his lips. they were so kissable. he was so kissable. 

you seddel on waking him up again, knowing that yourselvs, your staff, and your groups will be upset with the two of you if you were to miss work in genreal, but espesially cause you were sleeping. 

you relese his hand from yours and grab his face, his lips forming into a pout. “jiung i mean it” you say louder and sterner then before, looking into his eyes. 

“i know baby im trying.” jiung hums. 

you burry your face into the crook of his neck, and start placing soft kisses along his neck. he shifts with a sigh, giving you more acsess to the side and front of his neck. you pull the neck of his t-shirt towards you so you can litter kisses to his shoulder. you move your one hand to his upper chest, rubbing side to side on his collar bone with your thumb and your other hand, down to one of his thighs. 

your soft kisses form from being soft and gentel to gradually rougher and a little wet. jiungs hips buck up slightly and he lets out a quiet ‘shit’. 

your kisses on his neck get stopped by jiung pulling you by your hips and up onto his lap. your hands go to cup each side of his face gently and his hands stay resting on your hips as he pulls you in for a kiss and you feel yourself slightly grinding on him. he licks your bottom lip causing you to let out a breathy moan at the unexpected feeling. he traps your bottom lip inbetween his, sucking on it and nipping at it with his teeth a little from time to time.

you guys are also pulling away every so often to catch your breath, but those breaks dont last too long. 

jiung grinds you down onto him particurlly hard this one time and you feel your clothed clit harshly rub against him making you gasp and pull away from the kiss to rest your forehead against his as your still grinding on him.  

“shit! jiung-” your hands fly down under his shirt just about where his butterfly tattoos are and you feel his abdomen tense from your touch and he smiles slightly into the kiss. he also moves his hands down under your shirt and rubs his thumbs softly over your skin. you quietly giggle at the feeling but as he continues you start laughing more. you take ahold of jiungs hands making his movements stop and you pull away and lean foward, resting your forehead on jiungs sholder. 

“what?” he laughs.

“nothing- sorry, that just felt funny. kinda tickled” you laugh back.  

you guys spend the next few minuets just talking to eachother. sometimes there would be a bit of silence and it would just be the two of you soaking eachother in, you still on his lap. 

you guys got inturruped by a panicked keeho and the rest on guys comming into the livingroom one by one. 

keeho quickly handed you and jiung your coffees. “yo! guys we gotta go or were gonna be late. i wasent keeping track of time and apparently neither was anyone else.” 

you get off of jiung and he stands up. you give jiung a peck on his lips, with a slight pout. “m’sorry. ill make it up to you i swear.” 

“EW?!”

[whatitshouldvebeen]

Hii! I feel like I’ve been loving angst and smut all being put in one fanfic as of recently, so I thought about heartbreaker Johnny because we all know he’s not the most loyal man 🌚 so I was wondering if like it could be the sort of where the reader was basically taken by the slaughter family and instead of killing her they kept her as bate for more victims like she’s very attractive and they use her whenever they go out to hunt, (I hope that makes sense but I figured that would prob be the only reason they kept someone alive 😭) but ok so one day basically she and sissy are sitting on the couch watching Tv in their free time , and Johnny walks into the house with yet another girl, like the 3rd girl of the week, and like the reader rolls her eyes and sighs a little too loud out of jealousy and I guess Johnny notices, so later on he like teases her about it and she pretends to hate him when in reality he was one of the things she looked forward to when they first kept her alive, so they kind of like hate fuck? Or jealousy fuck idk, but she ends up riding him at some point,

(also I’m sorry this is so long, I had this whole long elaborate idea in my head 😭)

I finished 😈

Johnny Slaughter x reader

MINORS DNI this is fairly fucked up please spare yourselves

Contains: abuse, angst, blood, degradation, humiliation, knifeplay, mentions of self-harm, implied cannibalism, jealousy, fingering, hate-fucking, and breeding

(Sorry for double spacing, I still don't know how to format on mobile)

Eight months ago, Johnny Slaughter brought you home for dinner. 

Well, he brought you after a full night of fucking you out of your senses in a seedy hotel room. And it was thanks to your chemistry with him that—when he made clear that you were to be the family's next meal—you were able to talk your way out of it. 

"Johnny, you don't have to kill me," you pleaded.

"Well I can't let you go, doll," he said, looking down at you with a predatory gaze. You were in the gruesome basement with the scent of death flooding your nostrils, but nothing felt so visceral as the blade of his Bowie knife at your neck, one wrist flick from ending your life. 

"You don't have to. I can help you." 

He barked a laugh. "Yeah? How so?"

You'd swallowed hard, then placed your hands on his firm chest. He'd raised an eyebrow but didn't pull away. "I'll do what you did to me: lure people back to the house. I'll bring in five times my weight in the first month, I swear."

"You do have a certain," Johnny's eyes flicked down to your breasts, "charm. But how can I trust you?"

"Come with me. If you see me doing anything against you, you can claim to be my caretaker. Say I'm mentally unwell."

"How exactly are people gonna believe me if I say that?" He asked, his head cocked. 

You held out your arm somberly, self-harm scars littering your wrists. "It won't take much convincing, Johnny."

Rather than the usual looks you received when people noticed your scars, Johnny's face lit up. 

"You like the pain, huh?" He'd said in a low tone. 

"Proves I'm still alive, doesn't it?" You responded, a strange sort of calm flooding you at his reaction. You tried to lower your wrist, but Johnny caught it with his free hand. 

He removed the blade from your neck, then brought it to your wrist, making a quick, shallow cut. He then brought the blade to his wrist and made an identical cut. Finally, he brought his wrist to yours and pressed the cuts together, mingling your blood with his.

"Blood oath. If you break my trust, I'll know."

You nodded, adrenaline lighting up every inch of your body, especially the cut.

"Oh, and," his eyes narrowed, and he reached a gloved hand down, cupping you through your shorts, "this pussy is mine. If I hear you slept with another man, I'll kill you both myself."

Once again, you nodded, and watched entranced as he brought your wrist to his lips and licked it, humming contentedly at the back of his throat. 

"Let's see how long you can last, sugar."

—

Now, you and Sissy sat on the couch, watching the only TV channel available when Johnny kicked the front door open. He had a screaming young woman thrown over his shoulder, pounding his back with her fists.

Johnny locked eyes with you, wearing that same predatory smile he often had. Ever since you'd shown an aptitude for luring people back home for slaughter, you and Johnny had become quite competitive. It didn't take long for him to recognize that you had fully assimilated into the family, and he'd allowed you to hunt on your own.

This month, Johnny had been far more successful than you – three kills to your zero. His cockiness was becoming unbearable, and that smug look on his face stirred up a now-familiar ache in your gut.

You let out a sigh, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms as you turned away from Johnny, sinking deeper into the couch. Sissy looked at you and shook her head as Johnny slammed the door to the basement behind him.

"How you feelin', girly?" Sissy asked, patting your forearm.

You shrugged. "I don't like it when he does better than I do at bringing people home."

Sissy stroked your arm as she leaned closer. "Hon, I don't think that's your problem." She smiled, revealing her tooth gap as she caught your eye. "You wishin' Johnny was the type to settle down, hm?"

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head. "No!" You responded a little too quickly. "I just... I wish he wouldn't sleep with them," you added in a low whisper.

"Well, don't you sleep with those guys you bring home sometimes?" Sissy asked with genuine curiosity.

"No, I..." The oath you made to Johnny flashed in your mind. "I don't."

Sissy giggled. "I'll get grandpa to bed and take Bubba out tonight. Sounds like you and Johnny need to talk."

–

You remained on the couch until the door to the basement clanged open. Johnny had been down there for a while, and by this point, your jealousy had you seeing red. You stood up from the couch and turned to face Johnny in the narrow hallway by the stairs. He wiped his blade off on his bloody shirt and locked eyes with you.

"We need to talk."

"Yeah, you haven't been pullin' nearly as many people as I have. Losin' your touch, sugar?" He taunted, leaning against the staircase and toying with his knife.

You put your hands on your hips. "Some months I got more than you did!"

"Yeah, like that month you brought in those slimy truckers. I couldn't even stomach their rancid, fatty meat." He spat in the corner by the door. "But it figures. You have lower standards than I do."

"'Cause I'm not sleeping with them!" You yelled, your fists trembling at your side.

Johnny's smile grew so wide it reminded you of a great white shark.

"Jealous?" He purred.

Your face heated, and you sputtered. "No, I fucking hate your guts, you piece of shit! Why would I be jealous?"

He pushed off the staircase and approached you slowly, a dangerous sway to his step.

"Needin' some attention? Has mean ole Johnny been denying you?" His tone was sickeningly sweet as he stopped in front of you, making your rage feel small and insignificant in his overwhelming presence.

It was true. When you were first brought home, Johnny had fucked you and only you daily for two straight months. He was the only thing you ever looked forward to in this hellhole, but in the last few months, Johnny had been using you less and less.

And you couldn't deny the anger that swirled in your gut whenever he brought a girl home. You knew how he was; you remembered how he'd hooked you that first night, and some of those girls he brought home had that same cock-drunk look in their eyes, some even willingly descending into the basement before realizing their fate.

It ate you up inside. Johnny had sworn you to him, but he took whoever he pleased, and the jealousy was making you more irritable than usual. You probably would have brought at least two men home this past month if it weren't for your overly-aggressive demeanor scaring them off.

But you couldn't help yourself. When you got horny, you were straightforward about it. Johnny had gotten you used to being with him, and without him to satisfy your urges, you were becoming more unhinged.

So now that Johnny was inches from you, admitting he was neglecting your needs with that cocky grin on his face, you couldn't believe the surge of desire that coursed through you. You hated how your body reacted, despised the urge to close the gap between your bodies, and grab him by his slicked-back hair, mashing your lips onto his. Damn it.

Johnny leaned even closer, whispering against your ear. "I can smell your cunt, you little slut."

Your face flushed deep red, and you pushed Johnny away as hard as you could. He took two staggered steps back, which gave you an odd sense of satisfaction.

That was until his predatory eyes narrowed, sending a shiver down your spine. He closed the distance between you two in one stride and crashed his lips against yours. You stumbled against the wall, cracking the drywall under the force of his kiss. Johnny couldn't care less.

His hands found your shorts, practically tearing them off your body to plunge his thick fingers into your needy core. You gasped and blushed harder as you heard the sound of your wetness squelching around his digits.

"You fucking brat," he growled low in his throat, biting your lip. You whimpered in response as he withdrew from you, bringing his fingers to your lips. You parted them, sucking yourself off him greedily, your eyelids fluttering shut.

When he removed his fingers, he harshly grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. "You've been a real bitch lately. Are you in heat or something?" He asked mockingly.

"Shut up, Johnny," you panted.

He ignored you entirely, turning your chin from side to side. "You need fucked, don't cha?" A slow grin formed on his handsome face. "Beg me for it."

Blood flooded to your core at his words, but you tore your chin from his grip. The words 'I'd rather die' welled up in your throat, but you realized Johnny might take you up on that offer, so instead, you glared at him.

"I'm waiting, darlin'," he drawled.

Your eyes unwillingly traversed his body, and you thought about how good that muscular form under his bloodied clothes felt against you. The thirst was truly getting to you, and he looked like a tall glass of red-tinted water.

Shame flooded you, and you squeezed your eyes shut. "Please, Johnny," you mumbled.

"What's that, doll? Please, what?" He asked, looking entirely too satisfied with himself.

You gave him a spiteful look, hoping that your hate might set him on fire. "Please, fuck me," you said through gritted teeth.

"Ahh, there's my little kitten. You'll need to do something for me first, though," he said.

"Oh, come on!" You spat. "What could you need from me that you don't already get from your sluts? I'm the one who isn't getting any!"

Johnny couldn't have looked more pleased. "Jealous AND possessive. How pathetic."

Your anger grew white-hot, and you slapped him. Hard.

The instant your hand made contact with his chiseled jaw, you knew you'd made a grave mistake. His eyes narrowed to slits, and he slammed you against the wall by the throat. You felt his blade against your collarbone, digging in, rivulets of blood rapidly staining your shirt.

"I'm sorry!" You squeaked out from between already-bruised lips, memories of the first time you'd begged for your life flooding your senses. He tightened his grip.

"Remember who you owe your life to, dollface," he snarled, pressing the knife deeper. "I like that bitchy mouth of yours, but if you ever try to hit me again, I'll end you. Understand?"

You nodded as tears ran down your cheeks, unable to muster more than the tiniest of breaths. Yet, even as your life balanced on a knife's edge, your desire dripped down your thighs.

Johnny loved a fight, but when he fought, he always had to win. In Johnny's mind, the only true victory was taking his opponent's life. His demand meant he didn't want to kill you, you realized. He was holding himself back because... some part of him wanted you around.

Johnny's eyes moved from yours to your cheeks where tears formed salty streams that raced down to your chin, slipping down your neck and pooling against his grip.

You always knew Johnny loved tears; be they from fear or ecstasy. As light began to prick at the corners of your vision, you wondered if you'd pushed him too far.

All at once, he released you, and you fell to your knees, choking on air.

"Suck my fucking cock," he commanded. He gave you next to no time to recover before his thick length was in your face, stiff and upward-curved. 

Your throat was already aching, and you could barely breathe, but you complied, taking his flushed tip into your warm mouth. 

His cock was salty and musky, and your envy flared. Johnny was never yours, was never going to be yours, but you had grown to crave him, and the fact you were likely tasting another woman on his cock made you livid. 

There was no woman in the world who wanted to please him more than you did, and you were going to show him that he needed you at least half as badly as you needed him. 

You poured all your hate, anger, and devotion to him into sucking his cock. Johnny was a narcissist through and through, and for some fucking reason, you reveled in it. The higher you put him, the higher he brought you with him, and the harder you fell when he spurned you. 

Tears continued to pour down your cheeks as you forced yourself to deep-throat all of him. He let out a delicious groan. "Fuck yeah baby, take it!"

You gagged and sputtered, saliva gushing from your lips when he grabbed the sides of your head and pulled you as far as you possibly could go. He held you there, choking on spit and pre-cum, until you couldn't take it anymore and pushed off his muscular thighs, stumbling backward onto your ass.

Johnny took this as an open invitation. He knelt down in front of you and grabbed your knees, pushing them apart and slotting himself between them. 

"You need this cock, don't you?" He said, using one hand to tease your clit with the slick head. 

"I need it," you respond, your voice raspy.

Johnny grinned wickedly before he plunged into you, making your back arch off the floor and your legs tremble. 

"Knew you were too proud to ask me on your own," he said as he gripped your hair and thrust so deeply into you that you saw stars, "so I wanted to see how long you could hold out. After all, it ain't like I wasn't getting any."

Jealousy bubbled up yet again from your core, and turned those stars in your eyes green. You needed him to know those sluts had nothing on you. They weren't form-fitted to his cock, they weren't so rabidly in… 

Your mind drew a blank. In love?

No! You hate Johnny. He's your captor.  Your judge, jury, and executioner. 

You love him?

You really were pathetic. Tears bloomed in your eyes again, and as Johnny sunk his teeth into your already-bleeding collarbone, you sobbed out loud.

He ground his hips against yours, his cock completely filling you. "There's my girl," he rumbled against your bloody skin. You practically melted. His girl. His. But he wasn't yours. Even though the two of you were clearly sexually compatible, and you couldn't do much more in his personal life for him than you already were, he still remained out of reach.

Then, it hit you. 

"Cum inside me, Johnny," you begged.

His harsh thrusts slowed. "What?" He pulled back and looked down at your tear-swollen eyes gazing back up at him so desperately. "You're joking."

You shook your head.

"Then you're a fucking idiot," he muttered, returning his attention to your neck and rocking his hips so that you felt him at every angle. 

"No, I'm not!" You protested, and you felt his smirk against your neck before he gripped your hips and pulled you closer. 

"You are, but I'll humor you. Why?" 

He wasn't moving, he was just holding you impossibly close, planting small, bruising bites up and down your neck. You felt every inch of him viscerally, and lust clouded your mind as you struggled to articulate your thoughts. 

"I- I want-" you moaned, writhing in his grasp. 

"Speak up, sugar," he chided, digging his fingernails into your hips.

Fuck. Your vision was spinning, and you let your head fall back and hit the hardwood floor. Johnny didn't allow you to rest long; he took one powerful hand and gripped the back of your hair, pulling you to face him. 

"I already know, so why don't ya just admit it?" He whispered, his lips inches from yours. 

Your eyelids fluttered shut, and you squeezed your thighs around his hips. "I want your baby, alright?" You admitted, humiliation mixing ice with the fire in your core. 

"Honey, there've been more women than you who've wanted that. What makes you think you're so special?"

Shame and desire in equal measure painted your cheeks, but you finally knew what to say. 

"I'm the only one you kept." 

He hummed against your pulse point. "You already kinda act like a mama; cleaning the house and makin' my favorites for dinner." Johnny's lips, which had traced a path along your neck, paused for a moment. He lifted his head slightly, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "But I thought you hated me."

"Hate you so much it reached the end and flipped to the other side, I guess," you conceded.

Johnny rewarded you by slowly resuming his thrusts, giving you the cock you craved so primally. "I hate you too, baby. I hate how every damn thing you do drives me crazy, how you make me lose control then force me to keep you safe from me." 

He leaned close, fire burning in his gaze. "I hate that I can't kill you 'cause I can't imagine my life without you in it." 

In that moment, as your lips met again, it was a collision of contradictions—the fierce passion that had grown in the midst of hate and chaos.

Johnny was on a mission now, and you felt it in every fiber of your being. He sat up on his knees and pulled you into his lap without breaking the kiss, pistoning his cock so deeply you felt the head bruising your cervix. 

But you didn't care, you reveled in the pain. Johnny was claiming you, finally. All those women, and none had him like this—breeding them like the bitch in heat that you were. You moaned so loud Johnny broke the kiss with a cruel laugh. 

"You hopeless little slut," he chided as he moved one hand to your back and bent toward your chest. He licked at the still fresh blood before reaching your nipple, rolling it between his teeth and sending shockwaves through you. 

You gripped his shoulders and rode him harder. A low groan escaped his lips, and you felt his length somehow become even more hard before a warmth spread through your core as his cum shot deep inside you. The sensation was too much to bear and you came as well, holding onto him for dear life as you rode out your orgasms together. 

When he was done, he laid you back down on the floor and stood, leaning against the wall and gazing down at you, the girl he'd chosen to claim entirely. 

You laid spread-eagle on the floor, your chest caked in blood, wanting to meet his eyes but unable to move as his precious cum seeped from your abused pussy. 

"Get used to this," Johnny said, as he grabbed a cigarette from his pants pocket and lit up, "you want my baby, you're gonna get it."

[finalgirlrick]

Wicked Game

Pairing: Maggie x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: ~suggestive~ towards the end

Summary: A slightly enemies to lovers maggie x fem!reader farm era fic. I'm in love w maggie so this came super easy, I know it's not very popular to write about but w/e!! we all saw those dead city pics. shoutout @weretheones & @normanplusdaryl for encouraging my maggie simpery.

When you first met her, you swore she might’ve hated you. No, you were certain. With her narrow green eyes always fixed on you and a scowl on her face whenever you entered a room, it was hard to have any doubts. It was intimidating. She was intimidating. You were around the same age when you met, the only people in your age bracket holed up in her dad’s farmhouse other than Glenn. 

Her bold attitude captivated both you and Glenn, and you often found yourselves talking about whatever new shocking thing you witnessed her doing when you went on runs together. “Did you see the way she just slapped Shane?” Glenn asked completely baffled. “Yeah, she’s just asking for murder,” you joked holding back a grin. Maggie Greene, she was full of surprises -- and honestly, you wouldn’t mind sticking around to see how many more. 

There was no denying it, she was gorgeous. It wasn’t lost on anyone with her soft brown hair and the big smile that always stopped you in your tracks the rare times you were graced with it, usually when you bought her something on a run that you overheard her saying she needed earlier. And her distinct farmgirl fashion, maybe you wouldn’t have worn any of it, but she always pulled it off. She could pull anything off. 

Slowly, you became more friendly with her, it was inevitable when you were living in close quarters for so long. You eventually realized her earlier stubbornness was just due to being protective over her family and the farm, and you couldn’t blame her for that.  Once the initial awkwardness faded away, you, Glenn, and Maggie started having regular game nights to pass the time. They were full of laughter and chaos, and Herschel would sometimes peer in to remind you “rowdy kids” to get to bed, which only made you all laugh harder. A few times, you noticed the old man bite back a smile, in relief that there was still at least some joy in this new world. 

You loved seeing Maggie get competitive, or when she would try to trick Glenn into making the wrong move, which was more frequent than not. He was always visibly nervous and stammering around her, and you could tell she was using it to her advantage. She would tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, lean forward with her chest - god that was distracting, flash her doe eyes and that smile and he was a goner. You couldn’t blame him either, you always got butterflies whenever she pulled that move. But instead of reacting like him, you would chuckle and you would exchange a knowing glance with her, a new inside joke between you two. You couldn’t be happier to be a part of it. 

One game night, Glenn brought a bottle of wine he had scavenged, making sure to hide it from Herschel. The three of you had your usual nightly routine together, but Glenn started going overboard with the drinking and before you could finish the round of the game you were playing, he was passed out on the floor. “He’s a lightweight, huh,” Maggie giggled. You nodded. 

“So, I guess it’s just you and me now,” she pointed out. “Yeah, sorry about that,” you said with a half-smile, feeling those butterflies creep up on you. Her eyes crinkled when she grinned, “You’re funny.” Much to your surprise, she scooted around closer to you, making sure not to disturb Glenn, who was currently splayed out on the floor beside you. 

You felt like you were going to lose it. You didn’t have many moments alone with her, and this felt like completely new territory. Plus, the feelings you had developed for her didn’t make this any easier. There was no chance she would ever feel the same way, you knew it. You were going to make a fool of yourself and you were consumed with dread. 

“What do ya say we ditch this game?” she asked. You barely made eye contact with her as you replied, “Maybe that’s a good idea.” 

“This might be a good chance to get to know each other too.” The remark made you snap upright and you repeated it back to her. She continued, “Yeah, silly. Don’t you think it’s a good idea since we’re spending so much time together?” You gulped unsure of what to say next. “There’s just not much to know about me,” you scoffed. 

“Pffft, that’s a downright lie. You might be the most interestin’ person in this house.” You felt your cheeks turn pink and prayed that she wouldn’t notice. “Glenn’s interesting,” you said with a shrug, trying to distract from it. She looked over at him, “Yeah, real interestin,” and you broke out in laughter together. 

“Seriously, tell me somethin’ about you. What did you do?”

“I don’t know. I guess I was in school, I didn’t do much,” you sighed. “I was in school for a while too,” she replied moving in closer. Your heart was racing so fast you were starting to think it was dangerous.  “I think we might have more in common than I originally thought,” she whispered. She was making those doe eyes and you had to be going crazy. She couldn’t possibly mean…that, right? And why was she leaning in so close to you? In your bewilderment, you questioned her. She chuckled then, but it was different. It wasn’t like when you exchanged knowing glances when she pulled her moves on Glenn. She was looking straight through you. 

She took a deep breath in and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and just like that a wave of heat flushed over your body. Her face was mere inches away from yours now. “Do you like me?” she asked softly, almost embarrassed, a look you never saw on her before. Of course you did, you responded. In more ways than one, but she didn’t have to know about that. 

She nodded and smiled, and you just about jumped when she leaned in and brushed her soft lips against yours. It was a quick, shy kiss - waiting to see how you reacted and you were in so much shock that your mind went blank. But she was so beautiful, and right in front of you, and what the hell - she liked you. So you seized the moment and kissed her back, the movements getting more passionate and desperate by the second, both of your hands moving and grabbing in places they probably shouldn’t have when Glenn could’ve woken up at any second. 

“I didn’t think that was what you meant when you were asking if I liked you,” you admitted after the kiss was broken. “Are you complainin’?” she teased. “No. Of course not,” you giggled and her’s soon followed.