owowowowoow-blog

[pucksandpower]

Break In, Breakdown

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: when a break in destroys your peace of mind, Charles is determined to do all he can to help you regain it

Warnings: armed forcible entry

You wake with a start, your heart pounding. The sound of shattering glass echoes through the spacious apartment.

You sit up slowly, straining to hear any other noises over the hammering of your pulse. Charles is away for the night, called suddenly to Maranello earlier to test new upgrades.

You’re alone.

Sliding out from beneath the covers, you tiptoe to the bedroom door and ease it open. The living room is cast in shadow, shards of moonlight slicing through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Broken glass glitters across the hardwood. A cool breeze drifts in through the now empty pane.

You freeze, listening. The only sound is the thudding of your heart. Whoever broke in must still be here. You consider your options. The front door is on the other side of the living room — you would never make it. The balcony? No, you’re too high up.

That leaves only one choice. The bathroom.

As soundlessly as you can, you close the bedroom door and lock it, then dash on trembling legs into the en-suite bathroom. You lock this door too, then scramble for your phone. Your hands are slick with cold sweat as you dial Charles’ number.

“Hello?” His voice, groggy with sleep, comes over the line. In the background, you hear the muffled sounds of his hotel room.

“Charles!” You whisper urgently. “Someone broke into the apartment!”

“What?” All traces of sleepiness vanish from his tone. Fabric rustles as he sits up quickly. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m locked in the bathroom. I heard glass breaking and got scared. I didn’t know what else to do!” Your voice cracks as you struggle to keep it low. Tears blur your vision.

“Shh shh, it’s okay. You did the right thing.” Charles soothes. “Did you see anyone?”

You hug your knees to your chest. “No, the living room was empty when I looked. But they have to still be here!”

A tense silence. Then rapid French. You imagine Charles running a hand through his tousled hair, brow creased in thought.

“The police are on their way,” he says finally. “They’ll be there soon. Just stay hidden and keep talking to me, alright?”

You nod before remembering he can’t see you. “Okay.”

For a few moments, the only sounds are your shaky breathing and the muffled noises of Charles moving around his hotel room. You flinch as a loud bang echoes through the apartment, followed by heavy footsteps. Whoever broke in is still here, and on the move.

“I heard something,” you whisper to Charles. “I think they’re looking for me.”

“It’s going to be okay.” Charles’ voice remains steady, but you hear the undercurrent of fear. “Help is coming. Just stay quiet and-”

He cuts off as the bathroom doorknob rattles violently. You slap a hand over your mouth to hold in a scream.

“Y/N? What was that?” Charles demands.

“They’re trying to get in!” You whimper. “The doorknob ...”

Another bang shakes the door. You scramble into the empty bathtub, trying to make yourself smaller. If they get in here, you have nowhere to go.

“Y/N, listen to me.” Charles speaks urgently. “I need you to stay calm. Breathe. The police will be there any minute.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, tears leaking down your cheeks. “Okay,” you whisper.

The intruder hammers on the door again. Wood splinters — it won’t hold much longer. You think of Charles’ smile, his bright green eyes. You wish more than anything he was here with you now, holding you in his strong arms. But he’s hours away, and can do nothing but listen helplessly as danger looms.

“Charles?” You say softly.

“Yes? I’m right here.” His voice cracks.

“I love you.” You put as much feeling into the words as you can. Just in case they’re your last. “So much.”

“Oh god, Y/N ...” Charles trails off. You hear a muffled sob. “I love you too. More than you can imagine. You mean everything to me.”

The bathroom door splinters open. A masked figure looms in the doorway, gun glinting dully in their hand. Your scream lodges in your throat.

Charles is saying your name, voice panicked. You can’t find the air to respond. This is it. You close your eyes as the intruder raises their gun.

A deafening bang. Your scream. Then … nothing.

When you force your eyes open, the intruder is being detained on the floor. In their place stand two police officers, weapons drawn.

“Madame, are you hurt?” One officer approaches slowly, holstering his gun.

You shake your head mutely. On the phone, Charles is frantically calling your name.

“I’m okay,” you gasp out. “The police are here.”

Charles’ ragged exhale echoes your own shaking breath. You cling to the phone like a lifeline. He murmurs reassuring words as the officers help you from the tub and wrap a blanket around your shoulders.

When you finally end the call, your hands shake so badly you nearly drop the phone. You wish desperately to feel his arms around you.

But the police insist no one can enter until the scene is processed. You wait alone on the sofa, raw fear seeping from your bones and leaving you limp and exhausted. As dawn lightens the shattered window frames, Charles’ car screeches into the street. He’s still in a rumpled t-shirt and pajama pants, hair wild from raking his fingers through it. The moment his gaze lands on you, he’s across the room, gathering you against his chest. You cling to him, finally letting the terrified tears fall.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe now,” he murmurs against your hair.

You breathe him in, the familiar smell of his skin and cologne. Here, wrapped in his embrace, you can almost believe the words are true.

***

Morning light filters through the blinds of Charles’ childhood bedroom, casting stripes across the quilt tucked around you.

It’s strange, being surrounded by remnants of his boyhood. Posters of racing legends. Miniature models of the Ferrari Enzo and Michael Schumacher’s F2002. A framed picture of a beaming preteen Charles standing in front of a gleaming kart. You trail your eyes over the silver trophies lining the shelves. Hard to believe that bright-eyed boy would become your own champion one day.

It seems easier to focus on the distant past than to think about the present.

You’ve barely slept, your body tense as a livewire beneath the covers. Every small noise makes you flinch.

Charles’ arms tighten around you. His chest rises and falls steadily with sleep against your back. Being here, wrapped securely in his embrace, is the only thing that kept hysteria at bay through the long night.

You shift carefully in his arms, turning to study his face. His features are relaxed, lips parted slightly. Dark stubble shadows his jaw. He looks younger like this, the crease between his brows smoothed away. You reach out to brush an unruly lock of hair off his forehead.

At your touch, his brows pinch. Slowly his eyes drift open, blinking against the sunlight. He offers a drowsy smile.

“Hi,” he murmurs.

“Hi.” You try to return the smile, but it wavers. Being awake again means facing the suffocating weight of remembered fear.

Charles’ own smile fades. Propping himself up on one elbow, he reaches to cradle your face in his palm. “How are you feeling?”

You open your mouth to respond, but your throat closes up. You just shake your head, feeling the sting of tears.

“Oh, mon amour.” Charles pulls you against his chest. You cling to him, fighting back sobs.

He begins to slowly stroke your hair. “It’s okay. Let it out.”

You do, great heaving sobs muffled in his t-shirt. He holds you silently, lips moving against your hair in a continuous litany of comfort.

When the storm of weeping passes, you keep your head tucked beneath his chin. His steady heartbeat thumps against your cheek.

“I’m scared,” you whisper finally.

His arms tighten around you. “I know. But I promise, you’re safe here. No one can hurt you.”

You nod against his chest. But the truth haunts you — nowhere feels safe anymore. Not when someone invaded the place you called home. Violated your very sense of security.

Sensing your spiraling thoughts, Charles pulls back. He tilts your chin up until your tearful gaze meets his.

“Listen to me. I will do whatever it takes to make sure you feel safe again. We’ll find a new apartment, one with top of the line security. I’ll hire personal protection to be with you whenever I can’t. Whatever you need, just say the word.”

You search his eyes, finding only earnestness and love shining back. “You’d really do all that for me?”

He brushes his thumb over your cheekbone. “Of course. I’d move heaven and earth for you. Your safety and peace of mind are the most important things in the world to me.”

Fresh tears well in your eyes, but this time touched by gratitude. You lean in to brush a soft kiss over his lips. “Thank you. Just … thank you.”

He smiles tenderly, kissing the tip of your nose. “Always.”

The bedroom door creaks open slowly. Charles’ mother peers in.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” She bustles into the room bearing a heavily laden breakfast tray. “I’ve brought up some breakfast. You both must be famished.”

She settles the tray over your laps before perching on the edge of the bed. Reaching out, she pats your blanket-covered knee.

“How are you holding up, dear?” Her eyes, so like your husband’s, are full of maternal concern.

You muster a shaky smile. “As well as I can be. Thank you again for letting us stay here.”

“Of course, of course!” She waves a hand. “You’re family. Mi casa es su casa, as they say.”

Charles reaches for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he smiles gratefully at his mother. “We really appreciate it, Maman. This means the world to us right now.”

Pascale pats his cheek fondly. “I’m always here if you need me. Both of you.” She stands. “Now, eat up while it’s still warm!”

After the door clicks shut behind Pascale, Charles passes you a mug of hot tea. The chamomile soothes your frayed nerves. Under Charles’ attentive care, you manage to eat a few bites of crepe. But your appetite remains muted, stomach churning with anxiety.

Sensing your lingering unease, Charles sets the tray aside. He shifts down on the bed, resting his head on the pillow beside yours. You roll onto your side facing him.

His hand comes up to trail soothingly along your arm. “Talk to me. What can I do?”

You chew your lower lip. “Just hold me? I’m still feeling really shaky.”

“Of course.” He opens his arms and you nestle against his chest. His steady heartbeat thumps beneath your ear.

You cling to him like a life raft, fighting against the rising tide of panic. “I can’t stop imagining it all happening again. What if they find us again?”

Charles frames your face in both hands. His gaze bores fiercely into yours. “Listen to me. I will never let anyone hurt you. Not here, not anywhere. I promise you that.”

His passionate sincerity helps loosen the iron bands constricting your lungs. You can breathe a little easier.

“Okay.” You whisper. “I trust you.”

He presses a fervent kiss to your forehead. “I’ll do whatever it takes to rebuild that sense of safety for you. For now, just try to rest. You’re exhausted.”

He’s right. Bone-deep fatigue drags at you. But every time you close your eyes, visions of leering masked faces loom in the darkness. You shrink closer to Charles with a whimper.

“Shh, I’ve got you.” His arms tighten around you. “Focus on me, the sound of my voice. Picture us somewhere you feel totally at peace.”

You press your ear over his heart again, letting its steady rhythm center you. “Tell me about it? The peaceful place.”

“Hmm ...” He strokes your hair thoughtfully. “How about a tropical island? Powder-fine sand, so white it’s nearly blinding. The water so perfectly blue and clear, like colored glass. Gentle waves lapping the shore.”

You can picture it perfectly with the aid of his lyrical descriptions. The sun warming your skin, Charles’ hand clasped in yours as you stroll the beach. A light breeze tossing his hair as his laughter mingles with the cries of seabirds.

“There’s a little cabana right on the water, with an open balcony and gauzy curtains fluttering in the wind ...”

Lulled by Charles’ calming voice, you feel your body slowly relax, sinking into the mattress. He continues spinning vivid visions until you finally drift off. Safe in the circle of his arms, nightmares can’t reach you.

When you wake, sunlight slants through the blinds at a different angle.

Afternoon.

You’re curled on your side, Charles a solid weight against your back. His chin rests atop your head, arms wound protectively around you even in sleep.

You snuggle back into his embrace. For the first time since the break in, you feel a spark of hope. With Charles by your side, you know you’ll get through this. He’ll keep you safe.

***

Keys jangle outside the door of your new apartment. You look up from your book with a smile as Charles steps inside, hiding something behind his back.

“What are you up to?” You ask, marking your page. Ever since you moved, Charles has been full of little surprises to help you feel at home.

He grins, eyes glinting. “I have someone who wants to meet you.” From behind his back he produces a tiny black Doberman puppy with soulful dark eyes. It squirms eagerly in his hands.

You gasp, immediately reaching for the pup. Its pink tongue darts out to lick your fingertips. “You didn’t!”

Charles laughs. “I wanted to get you a guard dog, one specially trained to protect you. She’ll go everywhere with us once she’s fully grown.”

Cradling the puppy to your chest, you nuzzle into her silky fur. Her tail thumps happily against your arm. “Well aren’t you just the sweetest little guard dog ever,” you coo. Looking into her deep brown eyes, one name springs to mind.

“I think I’ll call her Princess Fluffykins.” You grin up at Charles.

He rubs a hand over his mouth to hide a smile. “Princess Fluffykins it is.”

The newly christened Princess Fluffykins snuggles into you with a contented whine. Over the next few weeks she rarely leaves your side. At night she curls up at the foot of the bed, a tiny furry protector. During the day she trots after you from room to room, always alert for any signs of danger.

But none of her vigilance stops her from demanding regular belly rubs or stealing socks to play with. Princess Fluffykins she may be, but she’s still a puppy at heart.

As the weeks pass, she sprouts into a leggy adolescent, all huge paws and awkward angles. But her devotion never wavers. She accompanies you everywhere, even to Charles’ races.

The first time you arrive at a circuit with Princess Fluffykins straining at her leash, you get some strange looks. People eye the muscular dog warily, giving you a wide berth. Princess Fluffykins has matured into an intimidating specimen, despite the sparkly pink collar now circling her thick neck.

Charles just grins, ruffling her perked ears. “I know she looks scary, but I promise she’s a softie,” he assures the dubious Ferrari mechanics. Right on cue, Princess Fluffykins flops to her back, tail wagging furiously until someone gives in and rubs her belly. Charles winks at you. “See?”

When Charles disappears into briefings or practice sessions, Princess Fluffykins patrols tirelessly by your side. She positions herself between you and anyone who approaches, watchful eyes tracking each stranger. But the moment she detects true danger, her demeanor shifts in an instant.

One particularly eventful race weekend, a drunken fan gets belligerent shoving past you for an autograph. Princess Fluffykins is on him in a flash, knocking him back with a deep bellow. He recoils instantly, throwing his hands up and stammering apologies. You cling to Princess Fluffykins’ collar as she nudges you protectively behind her muscular bulk.

“Good girl,” you murmur, stroking her bristling fur until she relaxes. Over Princess Fluffykins’ broad head, you give the chastened fan a polite smile. Message received.

As you make your way to the garage, passerby give you and your four-legged bodyguard a wide berth. But Princess Fluffykins ignores the murmurs, attention fixed devotedly on you. Her responsibilities may be serious, but everything about her remains hilariously contradictory — the bejeweled collar, fluffy fur, even her tendency to doze off using Charles’ race boots as a pillow. You wouldn’t have her any other way.

Over time, Princess Fluffykins becomes as much a fixture at races as Charles himself. On mornings when you’re feeling anxious, you clip on Princess Fluffykins’ leash and walk the familiar route to the paddock, drawing comfort from each heavy footstep echoing your own. The bulk of her pressing against your legs makes you feel sheltered … protected.

When Charles is busy with sponsor events and interviews, Princess Fluffykins is your constant companion. She positions her large frame strategically to keep you shielded from jostling fans in the crowded paddock. Her intimidating presence and rumbling growl are enough to make even boisterous enthusiasts reconsider approaching too closely at the wild after parties.

At night in hotel rooms, Princess Fluffykins curls up on the foot of the bed, ever alert. The sound of her steady breathing soothes you to sleep. And in new cities where sounds and shadows put you on edge, her solid weight pinning your feet beneath the blankets makes you feel anchored.

On bad nights when phantom terrors jerk you awake, Princess Fluffykins’ huge head rises at your distress, the light glinting off her collar. She pads up the bed to nuzzle your cheek until the panic fades.

Over time, Princess Fluffykins’ watchful presence steadies something deep inside you. Late at night, her snores harmonize with Charles’ to drive away the ghosts. Her grinning face waiting eagerly by the door when you return from a quick trip to the shops makes your apartment feel like home again. When you scratch beneath her chin, for a moment you forget about the threat, remembering only softness.

On the anniversary of the break in, emotions run close to the surface. You’re quiet on the drive to the paddock, hands knotted tightly in Princess Fluffykins’ fur. But when the time comes to part ways with Charles for the day, you find courage in Princess Fluffykins’ wiggly butt and lolling tongue. You give Charles an extra fierce hug, breathing him in.

“Love you,” you murmur into his shoulder.

Charles cradles your face in his hands, eyes serious. “I love you too. We’ve made it through so much this past year. You amaze me more every day.”

You lean into him a moment longer before braving a tremulous smile. “Go show them what you’ve got.”

With Princess Fluffykins a steady presence at your side, the day passes in a blur of heat and roaring engines. When at last Charles appears, wreathed in sweat and victory, you leap into his arms with a joyful shout. Laughing, he swings you around before setting you down to ruffle Princess Fluffykins’ ears.

“I think this calls for celebrating, what do you say?” His eyes are bright with triumph and love.

You lean down to adjust Princess Fluffykins’ glittering collar before twining your fingers through your husband’s. “I say absolutely.”

Though the path forward held both beauty and pain, with loyal souls like them by your side, you never had to walk it alone.

[evie-sturns]

camera - Chris Sturniolo

summary: when you and your boyfriend chris get into an argument about you supposedly breaking his camera, you two get too rough with each other.

contains: angst, physical argument (not a lot just a little push and shove), crying, comforting.

a/n: i know chris would never touch you in a way to hurt you, its just fiction. :)

------------------------------------------------------------

i lay on the couch, scrolling aimlessly through my phone as i hear a loud yell from upstairs.

"y/n!" chris's voice booms through the house,

"what!?" i call back, my eyebrows furrowing as i stand up off the couch and jog towards the staircase.

chris storms down the stairs,

“are you a fucking idiot!” he yells at me, my heart sinks instantly as my eyebrows furrow dramatically

“excuse me?” i almost scoff, chris never yells at me, he knows i hate it.

he clutches his vlogging camera in his hands before holding it up to my eye level, inches away from my face.

the lense is completely shattered, glass falling off it everytime he moves.

“what happened??” i ask, holding the camera in my hands, inspecting it.

chris takes in a shaky breath, “don’t play dumb with me, i’m sick of you.”

i shove the camera back into his hands, “what the fuck are you mad at me for?” i raise my voice.

“for breaking my camera are you stupid?!” he raises his voice back at me, his eyes narrow as he glares down at me.

“i didn’t break your camera chris, come on.” i sigh, trying to de-escalate the argument.

suddenly he slams the camera down onto the floor, the noise of it hitting the wooden planks is deafening.

my heart thumps against my ribs as i reach out for chris’s arm, i rub it gently.

“let’s- lets talk like adults please.” i breathe out. he grabs my hand and throws it back towards me

“do you realise, that’s a four thousand dollar camera, that i got last week?” he steps towards me, towering over me

“now who’s gonna pay for all your shit y/n, not me because without this camera there’s no videos to be posted.”

i avoid eye contact with him, if i’m being totally honest i’m fucking terrified.

he grabs my chin, “look at me!” he yells.

i grab his wrist and tear it away from my face before taking a step back.

“your acting like i can’t fund for myself, i have a job!”

chris steps towards me again, i take another step back.

“and i didn’t break your shitty camera, your blaming me because you’re upset that your money has gone to waste!” i say angrily, staring into chris’s eyes.

he laughs, “i don’t like liars.” he pushes me back slightly, my back hitting the wall.

“i’m not lying you asshole!” i step out of the way, before going to walk away.

his large hand wraps around my wrist, he yanks me back towards him, popping my shoulder out of place.

he puts me back in the same position infront of the wall,

“don’t try to leave, we’re not done until you stop lying!” he shouts, staring down at me.

my bottom lip trembles, “i don’t know what to tell you, i didn’t break your camera chris.” i speak honestly,

he nods with a fake smile, “mm, i bet.”

i go to walk away again but he doesn’t let go of me,

“let me go.” i say quietly, my shoulder aching and my face burning hot.

“no, i’m so done with you, and everything.” he speaks, my eyebrows contort.

“don’t even think about that,” i warn, grabbing his hand which rests on my wrist as i try to pry it off of me.

“you let me the fuck go right now chris, and we can both cool down because clearly you need it.” i inhale sharply.

chris let’s go of me before shoving me backwards,

chris had never hurt me, ever. he’s never pushed me, yelled at me, or even threatened to do anything to me. this isn’t like him at all.

i stumble over, landing on my hands and knees before instantly getting back up, i walk over to him and push him back before walking away, my feet stomping against the ground.

tears start to rush down my face, i let out a loud sob before reaching the spare room.

“crying now? pathetic bitch.” i hear him call out, not making my state any worse

i slam the door to the bedroom shut before locking it, i crawl into the bed as i frantically get my phone out.

i instantly call my best friend, nick.

“hey!” nick says through the phone,

“nick- nick” i stammer through floods of tears

i audibly hear him gasp through the phone, “y/n, what’s happening? are you okay?” his voice is frantic.

“no- me and chris just had a really big fight- i’m talking pushing and everything and yelling-“ i squeeze out, my voice breaking.

“okay- that’s okay just take a nice deep breath for me.” nick attempts to sound calm, to try calm me down.

i suck in a sharp breath,

“have you two ever fought this bad before?” he asks, i clutch the phone in my hand as i hold it up to my ear tight.

“no- no.” i sob,

“you know i would come round right now, i’m so sorry i can’t.” nick sighs,

“would you like me to call chris and talk to him about it!?” nick asks, i sniffle before shaking my head like he can see me

“no- he’s really mad.” i speak into the phone,

“look, i promise you i’ve had really bad fights with chris before and he always, always, makes up for it even when i’m in the wrong. you just gotta give him some time and he’ll come round.” nick says with a sad tone.

“mm.” i hum, my tears slowing slightly now.

“i’m about to go with matt to a meeting, are you sure you’re gonna be okay?” nick asks,

“i’ll be fine- thank you nick i love you.” i sniff,

“love you to, feel better soon and keep me updated yeah?” nick says,

“i will.” i say before hanging up.

——————

i flop down onto the mattress, the whole house is dead silent. i don’t know if chris left, or what’s happening but i haven’t heard a peep out of him ever since i got in the spare bedroom.

i look down at my phone, it’s now 11pm, 4 hours have passed.

i stand up out of bed before walking towards the door, i slowly creak it open before walking out into the corridor.

i feel like i’m hiding from him, even though i’m not. i think i’m just scared to see him again.

i walk into the bathroom before shutting the door, i yawn loudly. if this was a normal day chris and i would be asleep together in bed by now, but we’re not.

i wash my face in the sink with one of my old face washes, all my skincare is in chris and eyes shared bathroom which connects to our bedroom.

i unlock the door to the bathroom before making my way back into the spare bedroom.

i peel back the covers on the sheets and climb in, tugging them up over myself.

knock knock

i hear two soft knocks on the door, my stomach drops and i feel my heart rate pick up.

i freeze, unsure of what to do.

“can i- can i come in.” i hear a quiet voice speak from outside,

“um- okay.” i reply, my voice shaking slightly.

chris creaks open the door before switching on the lamp which rests on the desk by the door

a warm light illuminates the room, i stay still under the covers as chris and i lock eyes.

“can i sit here.” chris asks quietly, pointing to the edge of the bed.

i nod, pursing my lips together.

he sits down, he fidgets with his hands before opening his mouth.

“i’m really really sorry.” he sniffs,

he looks like a wreck from what i can see, his eyes are swollen, his cheeks are flushed and eyes are bloodshot

his voice shakes like he’s on the verge of tears,

“i- i genuinely couldn’t tell you why i did any of that-“ his voice breaks and i see tears start to roll down his face,

he attempts to wipe each one but nothing slows them down.

he takes his sharp breathes as he pulls two ice backs out of his pocket.

he hands them to me and my eyebrows furrow.

he points to his shoulder,

i now realise he’s got me ice packs from when he yanked my wrist and popped my shoulder out of place.

chris looks away from me as i hear his cry’s get more intense.

“do you want a hug chris?” i speak softly, he nods before shifting up the matress to me. i reach my arms out and wrap them around his shaking body.

he wraps his arms around my waist. i sit up against the headboard of the bed and he buries himself in my chest.

he try’s to speak again “i didn’t mean to hurt you and i’m so sorry.” he says in between sobs,

“shh- sh you can apologise once you’ve calmed down.” i whisper, playing with his hair.

i take in deep breathes, he mimics my breathes and his tears slow down.

he sits up again and wipes his face with both hands.

“i shouldn’t have blamed you- i know you didn’t break my camera i was just so confused on how i managed to break my camera so easily that i didn’t even consider that i might have done it.” he says quietly,

“and i shouldn’t of touched you, i genuinely feel sick everytime i think about it and i didn’t mean to push you over or yank your wrist i just wasn’t thinking at all.”

“and i also shouldn’t have called you that.” he sniffs,

my eyebrows furrow, he looks at me before whispering in my ear.

“a- you know.. bitch.” he hesitates.

i let out a small laugh before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“i’m sorry too-“ i start but he presses a finger to my mouth.

“no. don’t say your sorry because you did nothing wrong.” he shushes me,

“but-“ i start, he presses his lips onto mine to shut me up.

i kiss him back lazily, he pulls apart to let out a massive yawn.

“you’re so tired.” i laugh,

“i mean i tried to sleep earlier but i can’t physically sleep without you.” he mutters.

“oh chris.” i breathe, pulling him closer to me as i run my hand through his soft hair.

———-

tags:

@sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s@ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @certifiednatelover @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0 @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @mattsonly @justalittle47 @sunsetsturniolos @sturniolo04 @similartokayyz @sturnsintrouble @ilovemattsturn @raysmayhem-72 @75sturn @sturniol0s @secret-sturniolo @hfkeclnendmwodne @sturniolosass @gxldenlush @stonermattsgf @101sara @beccaluvschris @oliviasturniolo21 @imwetforyourmom @tylerstacobell @sunsetsturniolos @aliceloveschris @jayz4dayz4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover @nathandoesgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 @sturnthepot @zayyluvz @realuvrrr @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs @riowritesitall @raysmayhem-72

[elixrr]

Within the frame, you.

— They're still stuck on you, even after your death.

ft. various genshin men + star rail men

cw. angst, no comfort. your implied death.

He stares at a portrait of you across the room. Beneath their dull expression, a world of chaos, despair, and rage explodes and drives him to madness.

– Xiao, Alhaitham, Diluc, Wanderer, Dr. Ratio, Blade

Your death has already passed. You have come, and you have gone; he knows that this is simply the way of life, but he can't let it go. You meant the world to him— you mean the world to him. He dares not to say a word, nor is he able to bring himself closer to the portrait. You stare uncomfortably back at him, but your eyes are so full of life. You're dead, your body hones no being, but in there, in that photo, your eyes sparkle with life and prosperity. In that photo, you captured a special kind of love and light, and he can never feel it— never touch it again. He will never feel your light; he will never feel your love.

Yet, he still feels your hands. Your hands in the photo stick out to him, and he is reminded of your ghostly touch lingering across his hands. He can not tear his eyes away from your portrait, your hands, your smile, your bright eyes— it fills his own with tears. It's irrational, it's incomprehensible. The tears rapidly stream from his eyes, and he begins to sob. Alas, he breaks free from your gaze, but he is not free of you.

You were his, he is yours.

It is irrational, yes, but he will never let go. Not of you.

He can't stop crying over your death. He knows that, in order to heal, he needs to throw your photos out, but he can't bring himself to.

– Lyney, Kaveh, Venti, Freminet, Yanqing

Why you? Why did it have to be you? He can't handle your death, hell, he can't even bear to look at you! You've stolen his heart, and now he can't ever have it back. He's managed to turn all of the photos he has of you around, letting himself breathe once again. There was one instance where he had turned every portrait of you except for one in the hallway, and he broke down for a good ten minutes when he saw your illuminating glow.

Thoughts of you began to resurface, and he cursed at himself for letting this happen to you. He thought of your face, your eyes, the way your clothes swayed and swept with the winds. You were everything, and he let you slip past his fingers—

He stood up. He couldn't take this anymore. He stumbled from his seat and to the door, yet he stumbled too much and fell on a table. Crap! Photos of you wobbled and fell off of the table, and he managed to catch one picture. Involuntarily, he turns the frame over and looks at you.

And yet, at the sight, he drops the photo, and he realizes what happened: three portraits of you have fallen and shattered, and pieces of you and glass have scattered across the floor.

Everything, every part of you fell, slipping past his fingers, and you laid there. In each photo, you were full of life. But now? The message screams loud to him, like the glass shards, the realization stabs his heart a million times over, and he falls to his knees.

You're dead.

He starts sobbing; he can no longer hide the hurt. You're dead, the love and light of his life has shattered and dulled, you've disappeared. He pleads, begs, and cries for you to come back to life—he can't take another day of waking up knowing that you're gone.

He lays on the ground and sobs, scrambling the floor any piece of you he can find and grasping it tightly, no matter how much he bleeds.

He's been healing significantly, yet he still sometimes ponders back on the thought of you.

– Kazuha, Zhongli, Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Albedo, Welt, Jing Yuan

You've brought him comfort and happiness, but you have passed. Most days, he can bring himself to work, to travel, to do things he'd normally be able to do before your death, but sometimes he finds his mind lingering back to you. He still keeps a photo of you with him, and sometimes– like today– he pulls it out of his pocket or bag, and he stares at what once was, what he once had and took for granted.

He will not cry over it anymore, not like he used to, but it still sinks in his heart. When he looks at you, he yearns to feel your touch, to feel your presence, but that alone is impossible, lest he visit your grave with one of his own. Yet, he still longs to hear your voice, to feel loved by you again, even if those are things unreachable. He knows that, though, and he has managed to distract himself from his longing for you.

He's tried rebounds once or twice, but his love for you remained, and none of those new relationships got anywhere. You have his heart, but he doesn't regret it. Someone will take it from your grave, perhaps. If not, then he doesn't mind being single.

Besides, he'll then be able to die, too, and reunite with you.

But for now, he safely tucks the photo of you back into his pocket, and he continues on with his life. (Albeit, still trying to live comfortably without you).

[asmutwriter]

American Beauty/American Psycho (Part 1)

DESCRIPTION: You are an introverted woman. Working at a local book shop, keeping to yourself, not really on any social media. However, one small act of kindness makes you appear on the radar of a very specific superhero.

A/N: I didn't know what title to call this story, I had 'devil' and 'angel' playing on my mind. But then I was listening to Fall Out Boy and 'American Beauty/American Psycho' came on and I thought it was perfect for this story. So it is very, very loosely based off of that song

WORD COUNT: 2292

Next / Master List

WARNINGS: swearing, fire, burning house

DISCLAIMERS

-  This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

You run a finger through your hair. Letting out a sigh as you look at the pile of books before you. The small library you work in had closed for the night. You had the job of putting back all the forgotten books into their rightful place. Taking out all the different genres, placing them into their corresponding piles. Going to each shelf and placing them alphabetically in their correct places. You take a step back. Nodding at your work as you move onto the next section. Doing this for each of the small piles you'd managed to accumulate.

Once you had done this you make your way down the isles. Making sure there aren't any late night readers or sleeping students inside before you lock up. Thankfully there were none. So you head outside. Pulling the door too before locking it. Jiggling the handle to check it was locked. Placing the keys into your jeans pocket as you make your way through the chilled night air. Wrapping your arms around yourself. It was early autumn so you hadn't quite gotten used to the warm days yet chilled nights. Not having dressed appropriately for it. Only a thin hoodie keeping you warm.

Your nose catches scent of something. Causing you to stop in your tracks. You look around. Listening. Trying to see anything. Then you spot it. A blazing building. "Fuck". You mutter. Running over as you watch the building going up. Before you can think about anything else you hear a piercing scream through the night. Running over as you see someone by a downstairs window. A young boy, his fingers scrambling at the frame. Retracting his hands at the heat. You motion at him. Yelling through the night. "Stand back". Going into your pocket and taking out a pen. He stands back a little way. You wrap your fist around the item. Smashing it into the glass. Shattering. Reaching inside you pull him out. Holding him as he coughs. Moving him a safe distance away.

"My mum. Shes in the house. Plus my sister". You look back. A loud crack. You turn back to the boy.

"Do you know what floor they are on?"

"Top floor. I think the top floor". You nod. Hands on his shoulders as you keep his gaze.

"Stay here". You run back over. "Fuck". You mutter. Going in through the open window. "Hello!" you call out. No answer. You go to the door to the rest of the house. Pulling your hoodie sleeve up over your hand as you open the door handle. Feeling the heat grow intensely around you as you enter what looks like a living room. A body lies on the floor. Going over to it. You crouch down. Checking for a pulse. Nodding to yourself as you feel the slight beat of her heart. You grab her arm. Pulling her up as you sling her over your shoulder. Going back to through the house to the open window.

You aren't sure how but you manage to get the woman out of the window you entered through. Contorting yourself with her still over your shoulder. Going over to the boy as he watches. Tears staining his cheeks. "Mum!" he sobs. You lie her on the floor. You place your head near her chest. Hearing a soft yet distinct heart beat. The boy kneels down. Taking her hand in his.

"Stay here with your mum". You stand up. Rushing back over to the building. Climbing through the window as you are met with a monstrous fire. The room you were just in now fully engulfed in flames. Lapping at the sofas in the living room. You spot the stairs. Making a bee line for them as you dart up them. Hearing the sound of them slowly burning away as you go up. Three closed doors.

You stay silent. Hearing the crack of the fire below you. The distant sound of a toddler crying. You dart to the door the noise is behind. Opening it you see a very young child crying. Hands on the edge of her crib as she looks at you. You go over to the bed. "Shh" you try to soothe her. Picking her up and holding her close to you. "Its ok. You're ok". You go to the door again. Going to walk down the hallway. Seeing the fire now licking up the stairs. Destroying your only exit. You cradle her close to you as you go back into the bedroom. Shutting the door behind you. Grabbing a blanket form the side and placing it under the door. Trying to prevent the smoke from coming through.

The child still cries as you hold her close to you. Trying to soothe her as you turn around. Just as you hear a loud cracking noise. The middle of the floor starts to cave into the fire below it. Not daring to move, scared the floor will give out completely. You stay close to the wall. Pressing yourself a flat against it as you can. Among the crackle of the flames you hear voices. Firemen must've arrived. You call out. Your voice dull against the noise of the fire, and the slowly falling floor.

"Help. Please help". You call out. A soft sob coming through your voice. The door opens. You look. Expecting to see men in yellow enter. Instead, seeing a blue suit. Being met with his equally blue eyes. You'd seen him on billboards and newspapers. Homelander. He goes to walk into the room. "No!" you almost yell. Hand going outwards. Motioning at the floor.

He stills. Looking at you. Then the floor. Analyzing the situation before his gaze going back up to you. He outstretches one of his hands. You go to move towards him. The all to familiar sound of the fire making you still in your movements. You shake your head. Causing him to take a step closer to you. You move the child. Handing her to him.

"Get her out please". He looks at you. Going to say something but you move the girl closer. "Take the damn child!" you say. Fear in your voice as it fills the room. He takes her from your hands. Holding her close as he looks behind him. Then at the floor in front of him. Obviously assessing his best way out where the girl is unharmed. You watch as he looks at the ceiling. His eyes lasering a hole into it. He flies the girl out. You let out a breath. Glad the young child is safe.

The floor jolts slightly. The suddenness making you take it a sharp breath. Shutting your eyes as you press further into the wall. Your heartbeat echoing in your ears. Making you unable to hear anything else around you. The crack happens beneath you again. You fight back the tears. Pushing your lips together.

You jump as you feel something touch your arm. Eyes flying open as you meet Homelanders gaze. His hand on your upper arm. "Wrap your arms around me". You try to move. Lifting your arm up just as another creak fills the room. Your arms going firmly back to the wall. Shaking your head as you look at him

"I-I cant" you whisper. The floor cracks again.

"Yes you can". You shake your head. Shutting your eyes again. Feeling the floor start to shift under your feet. A soft whimper escaping your lips. "I'll catch you". You look at him. Wide eyed. The terror evident in your features. "Trust me". You watch his eyes. His still. Calming against yours. Slowly lifting your arms up. Trying to ignore the fire slowly eating its way through the floor. He puts an arm around your waist. You gently put your arms around his neck. Just as the floor falls out from under you. Your soft grip on him changes as you cling to him. Hiding your face into his shoulder as the comforting feeling of floor gets whisked away from under your feet. He remains hovering. The warmth of fire licking at your feet as he flies up. Away from the heat.

Your mind to overwhelmed by everything, plus hiding into his shoulder. You don't take in the fact he's taking you out of the previously made hole in the ceiling. Flying both of you out safely. Your legs nearly give out from under you as they hit the soft ground. Your arms still clinging to him as you tilt your head slightly. Looking at the paramedics tending to the unconscious girl on the ground. He gently rubs the lower of your back. "I'm going to need my neck back". He whispers into your ear.

"Shit. Sorry" you unwrap your arms. Going to move away from him. Wobbling slightly on your feet. Your arms coming out to balance yourself. He brings his hand out. Stabilising you by holding your arm. He tilts his head down. Looking at you through his lashes. Swaying slightly as you regain your composure. You look over at the woman on the floor. Her son sat next to her as their young daughter gets checked over by a paramedic. "Is she ok? Will she be ok?". You look at the blue eyed hero. Eyes tiredly scanning his face.

"They are doing everything they can do make sure she lives". You look back at the woman. Thats when you notice the small group of people. Neighbours all wrapped in coats and dressing gowns as they watch the scene before them. Some with their phones out. Recording the situation. Recording the fire. Recording Homelander. Recording you.

A paramedic comes over to you. You watch as his lips move. Obviously speaking to you but your overwhelmed senses don't take in what he says. You shake your head at his words. "I need to go home" you whisper. Looking at the crowd of people.

"Miss we need to make sure that you're ok".

"I'm ok". You smile at the paramedic. Homelander watching you as he keeps his grip on your elbow. "I promise I'm ok".

"Why don't we get you checked out, hmm?" Homelander says. You look at him. A smile on his face. You shake your head.

"I don't want to be a hassle. You've got the woman and her children to prioritise over me".

"You are just as much my concern as they are. Please miss" the paramedic says. Smiling at you as he takes the arm that was being supported. Taking you over to an ambulance. Checking you over. Once hes confirmed that everything is ok with you, he gives you the all clear to go home. Saying that they can organise transport but you insist on walking. You turn to try and find Homelander. Wanting to thank him for saving your life. But you see him talking to a news reporter. You press your lips together. Turning on your heels as you make your way back to your home.

You open the front door. Having a quick shower, changing into your pyjamas, then getting into your bed. Trying to fight the pesky nightmares. It isn't much after 8am when you hear your bedroom door burst open. Your curtains being forced back. You let out an annoyed groan. Bringing the covers up and over your head. Your roommate comes over to you. Grabbing the covers and pulling them down.

"Your famous!" she says. You sit up. Blinking your eyes awake as you look at her. She hands you her phone. A video pops up. The reporter from yesterday on the screen.

"A mother and her two children were saved last night from a house fire believed to have started from a cigarette butt. Thankfully no one was hurt, and we can put it down to this anonymous hero who risked her own life to save these three souls. A neighbour recorded the incident - describing it as a miracle and heroic act"

The video cuts to you. Helping the boy out before going inside the building. A few minutes passing, worried voices filling the background before you appear. Carrying the mother out the window. It cuts back to the reporter.

"Although Homelander himself managed to make it to the scene, firefighters and paramedics have both said that if this woman hadn't stepped in when she had then the family of three would have likely all been killed. Just goes to show the world that you don't need powers to be a true hero". You turn the screen off. Looking at your roommate.

"Fuck". You say. You pull the covers off of your legs. Going out into the kitchen. She follows behind as you grab out the orange juice. Filling a glass.

"Did you actually get to meet Homelander?". You place the orange juice back into fridge. Nodding.

"He saved my life".

"Thats so awesome". You scoff. Drinking your juice.

"I wouldn't describe nearly dying as awesome, but I understand what you mean". Placing the cup into the sink. You run a hand through your hair. Lightly massaging your scalp before bringing them down. "I'm going to head to work"

"You nearly died last night". You go over to the bathroom. Picking out your toothbrush. Applying some toothpaste.

"I am aware". You start brushing your teeth.

"And you're going to work?". You nod. Spitting and rinsing out your mouth with some water before looking at her. Drying your hands on a towel.

"Bills aren't going to pay themselves". Lightly tapping her nose. "I'll pick up a Chinese on the way home". You smile at her. Hand motion for her to leave the bathroom. She takes a step out. She goes to say something as you shut the door on her.

Next

[azen13]

To Gaze at Polaris

Description: After you manage to escape Jing Yuan's home, the General chases after you to Aurum Alley, intent on bringing you back.

CW: Yandere Themes, Non-Sexual Nudity, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Bathing Together

Pairing: Yandere!Jing Yuan x GN!Reader

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

It is a cold night on the Luofu when Jing Yuan strides through Aurum Alley.

By this time, all the shops, restaurants, and homes have gone dark. There is the faraway din of starskiff traffic, and the quiet buzz of cicadas in the moonlit neighborhood. As he walks through alleys lingering with the scent of day–the smell of tea leaves in particular lingers in his nose–there are no signs of you.

You are good at this, Jing Yuan thinks sadly. He wishes you weren’t.

“Y/N,” Jing Yuan calls quietly, though his voice carries. He does not need to be loud or aggressive to have a presence. “Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” 

There is no response.

He sighs. There is no anger in his voice, no vitriol or rage. Jing Yuan–as you have learned by now–is not prone to fits. In fact you’ve never seen him mad, or without at least a fleeting trace of a smile on his face; it's as if he was blessed by Aha THEMSELF. Because whenever he sees you he cannot help but feel light glimmering in his heart like starlight, making it bloom like pink morning glories. They have tender stems, delicate petals and grow in soil that is rocky and dry, but they are growing nonetheless, guided by your light.

He enters a different alley knowing you are hiding in the dumpster. Trivial really, but impressive nonetheless. Your determination is one of the things that attracts him to you most. It is a double edged sword. It comes in various shades and hues. He sees it in your eyes when he challenges you to a friendly game of Star Chess. Or when you’re cooking a new dish.

Or when you are shouting insults at him like if you curse him enough, you can make him disappear. In a way, it has the opposite effect. Every time you sob and plead he coos and reaches out for you, pulls you in tighter with comforting embraces and sweet, cloying words. 

For a few moments, he simply stands there. A part of him wishes that you would just come out. His footsteps are perfectly audible, and you are entirely perceptive enough to know that he has stopped in front of the alleyway. You know that he is there, waiting for you to surrender to his comfort and charm.

But you don’t. 

It drapes his heart in darkness, those flowers wilting when you don’t. He steps forward slowly, eyes fixed on the dumpster, his expression forlorn. “Dearest…please come out. I won’t hurt you.” It’s a promise, and it is one he cannot break. He hates seeing you in pain. He loves your smile. It is radiant in an infinite number of ways: the upturned quirk of your lips; the soft crinkling of your eyes; the way your irises seem to glow. You are a star of glass in his hands, and he is afraid he has shattered you.

But, he thinks, as he continues his slow conquest forward, nearing the dumpster, would that be so horrible? 

His mind flashes to the art of repairing broken pottery–kintsugi–where broken pieces are glued together with a lacquer mixed with gold powder; it is not meant to not hide where the breaks have occurred, but allow them to shine. He could bring you back together, multiply your luminescence by a thousand suns, and he would want you even more. The flowers in his heart would grow and bloom until his veins have become xylem and his tissues petals, every cell in him wanting your light. Craving it. Needing it.

When his hands–gentle and calloused from centuries of spars and fights–lift you from the dirty dumpster, you scream and wriggle in his tight embrace. His heart is flooded by rainstorms, flooding the flowers.

It has been raining for countless months. It feels like dying.

“Shh…it is alright my love,” he murmurs, his arms squeezing tighter around your torso; it’s not enough force to hurt you or bruise you, but enough to keep your squirming contained. “Let’s return home. I think this has been…enough excitement for one night.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

He runs you a bath. You smell like trash now, and that won’t do. He wants the best for you. The best food, the best clothes, the best life. Because when he sees your happiness, even if it is as ephemeral as a shooting star, it rejuvenates his soul. 

The gentle smell of jasmine fills the bathroom as he quietly works shampoo into your hair. By now, you have lost the battle. Is it a sacrifice, though? Or have you truly blundered a piece away on this grand chessboard? Jing Yuan has played you enough times to know your strategies and tactics, the most inner machinations of your mind. You lose to him every time, but always put up a good fight. He hopes that pattern holds true for this game you and him seem to be playing every waking moment.

Water cupped in his hands is brought to your head, washing the suds out of your luxurious hair. Gentle kisses are peppered on your bare shoulders and neck, before his hands reach to massage your shoulder blades. This is what Jing Yuan longs for: days spent in pure domestic bliss. The kind of sunlit silence that leaves him warm and sleepy, craving an afternoon nap next to his lover.

He hums a song. You lean a little more against him, exhausted from your little escapade. He smiles, careful not to chuckle, lest he scares you away like one of his sparrows. Later, perhaps in the morning Jing Yuan will have a conversation with you about this. But for now he is content to enjoy this honeyed moment, bathing in your incandescence, enjoying these brief moments of sunlight before the deluge begins again.

When your fingers start to wrinkle like prunes from the water and your eyes are beginning to droop, he knows it is bedtime. He wraps you up in a fluffy towel, letting you get ready for bed as he does the same; his eyes watchful but fond as he brushes his teeth and lets his hair out of its usual ponytail. Searching for the first signs of wind picking up or darkening skies.

The two of you cuddle in bed, though it’s more like Jing Yuan cuddles you, and you tolerate his embrace. His arms wrap around you, loose enough not to hurt but tight enough to anchor him around you. Drift too far away again, and Jing Yuan doesn’t know if he can recover. He needs you. 

He is tired, too. But he is tired in a different way. His fatigue is like that of a mountain carved in twain by the river of time. One day, both sides of that once-mighty peak will collapse. But you give him strength. You are his guiding light. His North Star. His sun. His Polaris.

His breathing begins to even out and he pulls you closer against him, sweet dreams of you and him begin to dance behind his eyelids. Hopefully, he thinks as he lets himself slip into slumber, one day you will forgive him for ripping you from the sky and placing you in his chest, in the space right next to his heart.

[hyperactively-me]

break in, break down

"You're stayin' with me tonight," he declares, voice firm and unwavering. You open your mouth, nearly telling him no, I'll find a hotel, but the look he shoots you suggests that you go with him. With a nod of agreement, Simon leads you away from the scene, his hand on your back firm and reassuring.

this has been sitting in my drafts for like, ever. it's not the best cause its super old, like months old and i lowkey forgot i even had it, but it'll do for now while i'm in this writing rut.

happy reading <3

warnings: home invasion, panic attack reaction (i think that's it? lmk if i missed anything please!)

A loud bang reverberates through your apartment, your peaceful sleep interrupted.

You open your eyes with a start, the volume of the sound causing your heart race and your breath catch in your throat.

You're silent for another moment until the sound of glass shattering causes you to jump. You sit up now, dumbfounded for a brief moment before unshakable anxiety takes over.

There's no way this could be happening to you right now.

You immediately leap out of bed, grabbing a stray hoodie off the floor, slipping it over your thin pajamas. Next, you grab your phone with shaky hands, trembling from the adrenaline and anxiety coursing through your veins. The sounds from outside your bedroom are starting to get louder. You swipe your car keys from your drawer, shoving them into the pocket of your hoodie.

In a frenzy, you grope under your bed for a baseball bat, struggling to steady your shaking hands as you grip it tightly. The rattling of your doorknob nearly makes you pass out in fear. Simon had told you multiple times to keep your door locked when you sleep, stressing to you that it wasn't safe to leave it unlocked, especially at night.

There was no way you could escape through the hallway. Lucky for you, your apartment is on the first floor of the building, meaning that you would be able to safely jump out of your bedroom window without injuring yourself.

You place all your things down quickly, unlatching your window from its locks. You heave it open with all your might, grunting as you hold it up to lock it into an open position. Grabbing your baseball bat first, you throw it out the window and onto the grass below you. Could never be too safe.

Suddenly, the person or people on the other side of your door start kicking at it, the flimsy wood shaking from the impacts. You bite back a scream, prompting you to jump out of your window, dropping onto the grass below you clumsily.

You don't bother looking back as you sprint to your car in the adjacent parking lot, throwing yourself into the drivers seat unceremoniously.

Without another thought, you dial 911. Running on pure adrenaline, you tell the operator your address and the urgency of the situation. The kind voice on the other end tells you that the police are on their way before you hang up.

You bite back a sob as your shaking hands type in Simon's phone number. You hold your phone up to your, chewing your finger as it rings once, twice, and the line picks up.

"Hullo?" a scratchy, sleep-ridden voice on the other end of the line rings out. His accent sounds particularly thick.

"Simon," your voice breaks, the adrenaline now worn off, leaving you a wreck.

"What's wrong?" he asks immediately, now sounding more awake. You hear shuffling on the other end.

"I- I think my apartment got broken into," you sob, fat tears now freely falling down your cheeks. "I'm so scared," you cry, bawling like a baby.

Simon's voice takes on a sharp urgency. "'M coming over right now. Where are you? Are you hurt?"

"I'm in my car, in the parking lot," you say tearfully, trying to wipe the tears from your face unsuccessfully.

"I've already called 911; they're on the way—" you add, clutching onto your phone.

The sound of a door opening and slamming shut crackles through the phone. "Be there in ten. Stay on the line, love."

"I'm scared," you cry again, your free hand trembling as you reach to make sure your car door is locked.

"I know, love, I know. Just hang in there. 'M on my way," Simon reassures you, his voice gentle. The ten-minute wait feels like an eternity as you sit in your car, sniffling every so often as you look out your car windows to make sure no one is coming towards you.

Sirens wail in the distance, the police clearly arriving on scene. Despite the growing fear gnawing at you, Simon's voice provides a source of comfort.

"The police are almost here," you breath into the phone, pulling your knees up to your chest.

"Good, I'm here," he grunts. You look up and see his truck hurtling through the parking lot, stopping abruptly right behind your car. He slides out of his car, rushing to the drivers side of your car.

The moment he reaches your car, you throw open the door and practically fall into his arms. Simon holds you tight as you fall into him, sobs wracking your body.

"Don't cry," he soothes, pulling you tighter against him. "'S alright, 's handled."

He cradles you in his grasp, running his hand over your hair as you sob into his t-shirt, fists bunching up the fabric. You cling to him as if he's your lifeline, the scent of his t-shirt grounding you ever so slightly.

"I've got you," he murmurs, rubbing your back.

Your sobs gradually subside into quiet sniffles, and you take a deep breath.

The distant wailing of sirens grows closer, indicating the police are here. Simon releases you just enough to glance over his shoulder at the approaching vehicles. "The police are here," you whisper, your voice shaky but relieved.

The flashing lights of police cars illuminate the surroundings as officers approach. Simon steps back, maintaining a protective stance beside you.

Two police officers approach you and Simon, asking for details about the break-in. You pull at the hem of your hoodie, trying to cover up your practically bare thighs from your tiny pajamas. Simon settles his hand on your lower back, encouraging you to speak to the officers. You recount the events timidly, telling them as much as you know. After providing your statement, the police assure you they'll investigate your apartment, but advise you that it's not the best to stay there tonight. For obvious reasons.

Upon their insistence of you spending the night somewhere else, before you could even open your mouth, Simon is insisting, no, demanding that you stay with him for the night.

"You're stayin' with me tonight," he declares, voice firm and unwavering.

You open your mouth, nearly telling him no, I'll find a hotel, but the look he shoots you suggests that you go with him.

With a nod of agreement, Simon leads you away from the scene, his hand on your back firm and reassuring.

As you approach his truck, Simon opens the door for you. He helps you up into the passenger seat, making sure you're settled before closing the door with a determined thud. Simon then strides around to the driver's side, the scent of him lingering in the air as he gets in. The engine roars to life, and you find comfort in the steady hum of the engine.

The drive to Simon's place is mostly quiet. He occasionally glances at you, concern etched into his features. You stare out of the window, the events of the night replaying in your mind. You shiver in your seat, thinking about what could have happened if you hadn't escaped through your window. Simon's hand finds yours, a silent gesture that makes your heart ache with gratitude.

As you pull into Simon's driveway, you're met with the warm glow of his porch light. The familiar sight brings a new sense of relief. It's not the first time you've been to his quaint home. Simon turns off the engine, and without a word, he's at your side, opening the door for you again.

He leads you inside, the click of the door shutting behind you echoing in the quiet house. Simon heads to the kitchen, rummaging through cabinets. Moments later, he appears with a mug of tea, a small but comforting gesture. He hands it to you, the warmth seeping into your cold hands.

"Drink this. It'll help calm your nerves," he says, his voice gentle.

You take a sip, the familiar taste of chamomile offering a small respite. Simon sits across from you, watching as you try to steady your trembling hands. The silence between you isn't uncomfortable; it's a shared understanding that words might not be enough to mend the damage that's been dealt.

After a while, Simon breaks the silence. "I'll make up the spare room for you. Take your time. We'll deal with everythin' in the morning."

He disappears down the hall, leaving you alone in the living room. You look around his living room, eyeing his front door for a brief moment. You finish the tea and set the mug on the coffee table, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over you.

When you enter the spare room, you find it tidy and pretty bare. The scent of clean sheets and the comforting atmosphere of his home a stark difference from your own. You watch as he double checks the windows to make sure they're locked tight. He also shows you the lock on your own bedroom door.

"Everythin' is secure, 've triple checked it all," Simon states, turning from the window to look at you. His concern is evident in his eyes, and you nod in response.

"Thank you, Simon. I appreciate all of this," you say, your voice quiet.

He moves over to the wall, crouching down to plug a night light into the wall. He taps it a few times to make sure it works. When it flickers on, he grunts, satisfied. Pushing himself up to standing, he walks over to you.

He gives you a reassuring smile. "No need to thank me. 'S the least I can do. You get some rest. 'M right across the hall if you need anything."

With that, he leaves the room, gently closing the door behind him. You make sure to lock the door behind him as he leaves. You crawl into bed, pulling the covers over your weary body, exhaustion settling in.

You close your eyes, hoping that sleep will offer some reprieve. As you lay there, the events of the night replay in your mind. The fear, the vulnerability, and the violation of your home weigh heavily on you. Slight sounds make you jump in fear, and all of a sudden you start to breath heavily. You can't be in here, not alone.

You stumble out of the room, practically falling into the hallway. The dim glow of the nightlight casts long shadows, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. Determined, you make your way to Simon's door and knock softly.

The door opens, and Simon appears, concern etched on his face. "Everythin' alright, love?"

You can barely form the words, your voice barely a whisper. "Can't stay in there alone."

Without hesitation, Simon opens the door wider, gesturing for you to enter. His room is dark, all lights off. You step inside his room, tugging your hoodie tighter around your body. You settle onto the edge of his bed, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to ward off the residual fear.

Simon shuts and locks the door behind him, plunging you both into darkness, save for the slight shine of the moon pouring through between a crack in his curtains.

Simon stands in front of you, looking down with a mix of empathy and concern in his eyes. "You're welcome to stay as long as you need. I don't mind."

"Thank you," you manage to say, the vulnerability in your voice more pronounced in the darkness of the room.

Simon hesitates for a moment before flicking on a small bedside lamp. The soft light casts a warm glow across the room, revealing a space that's both lived-in and comforting. You feel a bit more at ease.

He pulls a chair from his desk and sits across from you, leaving a respectful distance. The silence between you is filled with unspoken words, the weight of the night's events hanging in the air. Simon's gaze is unwavering, and you find solace in the fact that he understands what you need without the need for words.

As the minutes tick by, the atmosphere in the room becomes less tense. Simon breaks the silence, his voice a gentle murmur. "I don't want you to go through this alone. You deserve to feel safe, love."

You manage a weak smile, touched by his sincerity. "Thank you, Simon. You really don't have to be doing all of this for me--"

"Don't say that, I want to," he cuts you off gruffly, offended as if you would even suggest that you weren't worthy enough of his care.

His response hangs in the air, and you notice a flicker of something in Simon's eyes—a hint of frustration or something deeper. The unspoken tension lingers, causing you to shift slightly.

"I just... I don't want you to feel unsafe," Simon adds, his voice softer this time. He leans forward, resting his arms on his knees, his gaze fixed on yours. "Or alone. Fuckin' hell, if you hadn't been able to get out of there..."

He stops, jaw ticking as he thinks. He can't even say it.

The room feels charged with unspoken emotions, and you sense a vulnerability in Simon that mirrors your own.

"Simon," you say softly, your voice a gentle reassurance, "I feel safe with you."

"I've... 've cared about you for a long time, maybe more than I should," Simon admits, his words hanging in the air like a fragile confession.

The vulnerability in his admission tugs at your heart, and you find yourself pushing yourself up off the edge of the bed, cupping his face in your hands.

"I've cared about you too," you confess, the weight of the unspoken finally lifted.

He looks up, meeting your eyes with a mixture of relief and adoration. Simon's hand reaches up to grasp your wrist lightly, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand, his eyes searching yours for confirmation.

"I never want you to feel unsafe or alone again. I can't stand the thought of somethin' happenin' t' you."

Your heart swells at the sincerity of his words, and you lean down, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

The conversation lulls, and for a moment, it's just the two of you in the sanctuary of Simon's bedroom. The emotional exhaustion begins to take its toll, and your eyes grow heavy.

He stands from his chair, grasping your upper arms gently, leading you towards his bed once again. Before he sits you down, he looks at you expectantly.

"Is this what you want?"

"Yes," you nod, "I've never wanted anything more."

With your permission, he lays you down on his bed, following you into the bed with a contained eagerness. He drags you up until you're settled on a pillow. Simon slides into the mattress right next to you, pulling the covers up and over the both of you. You turn on your side to face him, eyes searching his face just before he turns off the lamp, plunging you both into darkness.

Simon's hand brushes against your forearm, seeking permission yet again. You scoot over until you're flush against him, cheeks heating up at the proximity. You feel Simon's warm presence beside you, his hand finding its place on your waist before he pulls you up against him, cuddling you. Simon's fingers trace patterns on your back, a soothing motion that pulls you deeper into relaxation.

"Get some rest. I'll be right here if you need anything, love," Simon whispers, playing with the ends of your hair.

"Thank you," you whisper into the darkness, your voice barely audible but carrying a depth of gratitude.

He tightens his grip on your waist, a silent affirmation that he's here for you, that you're not alone. The warmth of his touch and the gentle rise and fall of his breath provide a sense of security that eases the lingering tension in your body.

. . . 

The morning light begins to seep through the curtains, casting a soft glow in Simon's room. As you slowly awaken, the events of the previous night come back to you in fragments. You turn slightly to find Simon still asleep beside you, his features softened by the morning light. His arm is draped protectively over you, and a sense of peace settles in the room. For a moment, you simply revel in the quiet stillness, savoring the moment.

As Simon begins to stir, his eyes meet yours, and a sleepy smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "Mornin’," he murmurs, his voice husky with sleep.

"Morning," you reply, a small smile playing on your lips. The air in the room feels different, more relaxed.

Simon props himself up on one elbow, his gaze searching yours. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than I thought I would," you admit, a genuine warmth in your voice. "Still kinda freaked out that people broke in to my apartment, but better."

He nods thoughtfully. "We should probably get up, check in with the police," Simon suggests, but there's a reluctance in his eyes to let go of the warmth of the bed.

You cuddle against him once more, hugging him tightly. His arm comes to wrap around your back, hand splayed across your skin.

"Yeah, we should," you say, pulling away gently as you push yourself out of bed.

"We're goin' together," he tells you. "And I will be installing a new security system in your apartment."

You manage a small smile. "I don't think you understand how much I appreciate you for this."

He sighs as he leads you to his small kitchen. "You never have to thank me for anything, love."

Before you can retort, he turns to you. "Let's get some breakfast in ya. How do you like your eggs?"

[nuhuhwinniethepooh]

B-urn

Tags : Fluff then Angst, Smitten Gojo Satoru x F!Reader :), Gojo as a hateful dad, character death.

A/N : I've had enough of soft dad Gojo Satoru, I need some hateful dad Gojo Satoru or something similar to it at least.

WC : 1.7k

__________________________________________________

1 " Hey 'toru, Get some peaches on your way back. " " Hey, honey. "

"You're crazy," you whisper speechlessly, pushing a strand of wet hair off your eyes and gazing blankly at Satoru kneeling on the tiled floor with a velvet box in his hand, encasing a sparkly ring inside- both his and your birthstones, you notice.

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. But one thing's for sure, I never thought I wanted to settle down. But now...now I just can't imagine a future without you," Satoru starts, you've never seen him so genuine of his feelings, so innocently vulnerable like he's gonna shatter if you say no.

"So please, answer my question. Can I marry you and make myself the happiest man to have ever lived?" He continues, gentler this time. You bite your bottom lip, holding a sob back as you nod, too afraid that you'll fall apart if you speak. You nod once again, feeling warmth envelop your skin as Satoru throws himself at you and peppers your face with kisses- 'Thank you's' and 'I love you's' slipping out his mouth like butter on a heated pan as he slips the ring on your finger.

You clear your throat, backing away as you look at the ring glint under the light with a smile," it's beautiful, Satoru. I love it but next time, please don't propose to me in the bathroom when I'm fresh out of the shower," you say with a wide grin on your face, tugging the towel around you to secure its position again. Satoru responds with a huge grin of his own, pulling you close and nuzzling your neck," Couldn't wait for tonight's date, I've waited long enough for this," he mumbles, placing soft kisses against your damp skin.

"Tha-," he shuts you up with his lips, "Okay, fine. Sorry, I'll keep the destination in mind next time," he apologizes with a sheepish grin but you know better than that, he's not the least bit sorry.

2 " I'm going shopping with your mum for my wedding dress today, I might be a little late. " " I hope you're doing fine "

The wedding was perfect from start to finish, the Gojo clan doing all the grunt work while the two of you made the final call at the end. Everything was perfect for Satoru, especially you. He even tears up a little when he watches you walk down the aisle towards him- muted giggles echoing in the enclosed wedding hall at his reaction. He had his blindfold removed for the day despite the fact that the shards of decorated glass and bright lights irritated his six eyes, a small sacrifice for the greater good.

The greater good being getting a better look at you, every blemish, every scar and every battle wound peeking out of your wedding dress was perfection to him. His heart tap-dancing in his chest when he meets your eyes, absolutely smitten for the look of pure joy in your face when your father finally rests your hand on Satoru's and the officiant starts the wedding, his words falling on deaf ears when Satoru chooses to gaze at you with adoration in his eyes instead.

Popping out of his reverie when your sparkling eyes meets his and a smile tugs at your lips," You're supposed to say 'I do' now," you whisper, squeezing his hand. "I do," his voice rings, loud and clear, squeezing your hand back after you do the same.

"You may kiss the bride." Finally.

"My wife," he thinks to himself happily before pulling you in and crushing your lips against his, the cheers from the crowd gradually turning into background noise, getting lost in the feeling of your warmth against his. He breaks the kiss only when thunder erupts and the pitter-patter of the rain starts loud and ominously, he turns and looks at you worriedly only to be left surprised when you look back at him with delight.

"Looks like even the heavens are blessing our wedding now," you hum, pulling him by the arm towards the door to the large balcony. Pushing the door open and dragging him towards the middle of the open balcony with a grin, the heavy rain immediately drenching the two of you- you let go of his arm, turning to face him with a hand held out," Can I have this dance?" a teasing grin on your face, Satoru swears his heart actually stopped for a second; grabbing hold of your hand, he places a quick kiss on your knuckles," gladly."

Gently swaying in the rain to the music drifting from the wedding hall, Satoru couldn't be happier. He's the happiest man to have ever lived when in your arms.

3 " 'll make breakfast tomorrow though, you want anything? " " I'm not sure if I told you this enough but "

Getting pregnant 3 years after your marriage wouldn't have been a surprising thing but it was for the two of you considering the fact that you went at it like rabbits. You wanted kids, he didn't, heirs and other matters be damned. He wanted you to himself for as long as possible, hoard your attention and love for as long as he could before you finally put your foot down.

The dreaded day arrived sooner than he liked, he'd have preferred another 7 years alone with you but you didn't give in this time. Adamant on bearing his child and starting a family, how could he ever say no to you? So he gives in and fucks you with a new goal in mind- getting you pregnant with his child.

Two weeks later, your breathe hitches as you look at the stick in your hand- you're pregnant. Excited squeals gushing out of you, you rush out the bathroom and to the shared master bedroom where you hold the pregnancy test up at Satoru's face. He looks at you with mild shock in his face," already?" He asks softly, taking the stick from your hand and looking at it blankly, sitting down on the edge of the bed besides him, you nod excitedly," We're gonna be parents, s'toru!"

Before you know it, he throws the test aside on the floor, pulling you in his arms and crushing you under his weight as he presses kisses all over your flushed face," we're gonna be parents!" You giggle, hands cupping his cheeks to slow down the barrage of kisses. Satoru still wasn't really sure about the idea of a child yet but your joy at the thought of it was enough for him to push that idea aside, what you wanted was what he wanted, it's a universal rule.

"We gotta celebrate this now, don't we?" He mumbles, hands slowly sliding under your shirt with a smirk, earning him a swat against his chest. "Gosh, you're disgusting," you chuckle, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and pulling him in. "And you love me for it, Mama," he coos, pressing a light kiss at the corner of your lips- your heart swells at the thought of being a mother, you were finally gonna start a family of your own with the man you love, life couldn't get any better.

4 " It might rain today so call me when you're done, okay? I'll come pick you up. " " I love you so much "

Fear and respect, two sides of the same coin, was easy to come by when it came to Gojo Satoru, hating even easier but what was hard was loving him, harder than it should be- Loving him was like climbing up a snowy mountain with nothing but a fork, Loving him was like crossing the seven seas with only a raft, Loving him was like trying to figure out what to do with a beloved china bowl that got smashed into pieces. It was nigh impossible to love him, anyone who did try gave up halfway through, only leaving him worse still. But everything changed once you came along.

You didn't climb the snowy mountain with a fork, not at all. You just waited long enough for a ski lift to be built for skiing enthusiasts and then took the lift yourself. You gave him time to adapt, time to breathe before finally making your way through the icy remnants of his scarred heart.

You didn't travel the seven seas with a raft, not at all. You just sold the raft and bought yourself a ticket for a worldwide cruise, enjoying every single moment on the long trip back to him. You gave him patience and waited happily for him to come around.

You didn't just accept your fate to pick the broken china pieces and throw it in the bin, not at all. You just gently assembled it and glazed it with lacquer, painstakingly painting over every crack with gold. You didn't fix him, you just accepted all of his broken pieces, that's all - the rest he did it himself.

It wasnt the fact that you took the easy way out, not at all. It was the fact that you put the effort to think about ways to love him- It was always hard to love Satoru, you just made it easy. So if someone asks Satoru why he loves you so, all he does is smile and answers " no reason at all." He just loves everything about you, he doesn't need a reason to do so.

5 " You don't sound so well, is everything okay? " " More than you could ever know "

20 weeks, 5 months, into your pregnancy and Satoru's already starting to feel uneasy, the change is small, unnoticeable to the normal eye even. But the change is there, his six eyes catching everything. You've gotten weaker, not externally per se but internally. He brings it up once when the two of you cuddle in the bed, you laugh and brush it off by saying," it's only natural." He's not convinced but he doesn't push it, opting to graze the curve of your cheek instead.

Something was really wrong, very, very wrong- You've been rapidly losing weight, the complete opposite of what should be happening. The growing baby bump only makes you grow thinner, finding it hard to even do the basic things, having to rely on Satoru for everything. He'd have been delighted on being relied on some other time but this time he's not, he's more concerned than anything.

The trip to the doctors doesnt change a single thing, every single one of them saying the same thing over and over and over again. "She's fine, just a rare case. It's better than it looks, 'ts just an uncommon case of weight loss during pregnancy." He swears its not, the very molecules that makes up you seems to be slowly but steadily gathering and surrounding one particular place, your belly but how could they know that? They were normal doctors, not some omniscient sorcerer like him.

So he grits his teeth, quietly holding your hand and holding onto his last hope, Shoko. Despite it not being her area of expertise, he can only hope for the best afterall she was a sorcerer too, she has to have the ability to figure it out...doesn't she? All hope comes crashing down when Shoko shakes her head, there was nothing wrong with you, the final verdict.

" I told you, didn't I? It's just an uncommon case, honey. You're too paranoid," you grin and tiredly pat his hand, boney fingers brushing against his. Your engagement ring and wedding ring hanging around a chain on your neck glistens blindingly under the stark hospital light- it became too loose to fit you anymore. Satoru feels slight prickles in his eyes from underneath the blindfold, he doesn't know why but he does. Forcing a tight smile at you, he nods," You might be right dear, but you know I can't help it when it comes to you," he mumbles, placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles to hide his falling smile. You chuckle lightly, flushing at the contact," You're such a silly man, 'toru. "

6 " Hmm? Oh I'm fine, don't worry. How's work though? " " And I swear I've tried, I really have "

Problems over problems befall, the number of curses quickly increasing exponentially with no rhyme or reason and the higher-ups pressuring him from all side was taking a toll on him, not to mention your declining health. You looked healthier now, taking the supplements that Shoko provided helped you not look like you were gonna fall dead at any given moment. A farce, Satoru notes, you're healthier on the outside, dying on the inside. He even contemplates getting rid of the thing inside you completely but as if like you read his mind, telepathically catching onto his thoughts, you become more protective.

Hands always wrapped around your belly and eyes instinctively following his every movement, always on sharp alert. Waiting for something to happen, you're not entirely sure for what but you wait. Catching onto your guarded attitude, Satoru drops the idea immediately. He doesn't want you to hate him, he'd die if you did and even he's not sure if he means it figuratively.

He makes sure to coo at your belly every night though, sure he doesn't want a child but that didn't mean he didn't feel any love for it despite the toll it took on you. He just hates it as a husband and loves it as a father- hates it even more as a lover. Hiding his slowly growing apprehension of the unborn child inside you with a mask of an excited father-to-be.

You know Satoru acts off this days especially when he interacts with the baby but you don't say anything, he's a busy man and you were currently out of service which meant double the work, you couldn't possibly have the right to ask him what's wrong, right?

7 " 'Toru, don't worry about me. I'm not mad, I promise. Just try to get your business trip finish a little faster okay? " " So please don't hate me too much "

You're a nervous wreck, anxiety fully settling deep in your bones despite the contractions. The pain was doing nothing to alleviate the turmoil inside you other than making it worse, 7 hours in after your water broke and Satoru is nowhere in sight- you're nervous, in pain and surrounded by strangers. Shoko was kicked out, 'only family members are allowed in' they said, despite your pleas they ignore you. They were gonna have hell to pay later until then you had to push through it by yourself, it couldn't possibly get any worse.

Biting down on your lips after screaming your throat hoarse, you squeeze your eyes shut, the salty taste of your tears mixing in with the metallic ones on your lips only making you want to gag. Slowly, loud words starts to blur and dim as your vision gets hazy, drifting in and out of your consciousness while barely catching sight of the figures hovering around you," I see the head!" One particularly loud statement snaps you back into reality, everything ending too quickly from there with still no sign of your husband anywhere.

With the first cry resounding in the room, your heart rate falls rapidly; the once searing pain only a throb now, a small respite but an unwelcoming one. You wish for the numbing chill to be replaced for the burning pain, praying for the latter if it meant that you could still breathe in the scent of his skin, still comb your fingers through arctic white hair, still stare into his cerulean blue eyes, still lay your head above hi- "I'm sorry" a hushed whisper in the chaos.

The high-pitched beeps flatlines, parallel lines all in all. The silence is too loud and the air too thick, working their way to restart a heart that's already dead and gone. Somewhere in the distance another heart drops, not with the promise of death but of something much worse. What use is a beating heart if the soul is already dead?

8 " I'm sorry I couldn't make it, I swear I tried " " But I can't do it "

Satoru doesn't hate her. No, he abhors her. The feeling of complete hatred and malice against an individual- every babble, every cry, every coo, her very existence disgusts him to the core. Somedays he just wants to snap her neck, it'd be so easy, so quick, so satisfying, so very dreadful. Somedays Satoru even considers it, his long slender fingers wrapping around her small sleeping figure and squeezing just a little, just a twitch but her eyes always flutters open, always gazes at him with a smile, always holds her chubby little arms out to him.

It's not her smile, her voice or his guilty conscience that stops him, it's her eyes. Your eyes. The curve, the shape, the color, the very crinkle reminds him of you, your eyes are staring back at him but it's not you. It'll never be you. Pulling his hand back like he got burned, he rushes out. It's what he always does these days, he runs and runs until he can't anymore, hoping that maybe somewhere along the way, he'll finally find you again.

You're so cruel and so very heartless, if you were gonna leave him in the end you should've never made him love you at all but you did, you did and he loves you. He loves you and you left.

Satoru is always bitter, maybe if she didn't have your eyes then maybe it'd be easier to get rid of her, maybe it'd be easier for him to move on. But you're always there, your first gift being her last saving grace. Your eyes, your first, your life, your last. Maybe you knew about it, you always did say that you wanted a baby that looked like you. He never bothered to ask why because he agreed with you, he always agrees with you, but now he seems to understand why, you always did understand him better than he did himself.

So all he does is mourn, he mourns but he doesn't cry- he didn't cry when he got the news of your death neither did he cry when he saw your body, not a single tear in sight. He just silently stood by your side, gently grazing your face with a finger, hands interlocked with yours until your last moment. And like all sorcerers fate, he watched your body get cremated until nothing but ashes were left in the end. Silently making his way back to a dark and empty house with nothing but the urn of your ash in his hand. He still doesn't cry when he hugs the urn close to his chest and stares at your side of the bed late into the night, he doesn't cry at all.

He doesn't cry because he can't cry. Tears are the embodiment of an emotion, what use are they for a man who's already gone numb?

9 " I love you " " I can't love her "

"Hiiii, 'toru"

"Hey, honey."

"How's everything over there?"

"She's growing up fast, you'd be surprised. She has my hair, y'know? Well, the color at least. It's funny how she's starting to resemble me, it's almost uncanny. She has your eyes though, it's like she copy-pasted your eyes onto hers, it's almost scary because it feels like it's you thats looking back at me sometimes. And well, she started going school now; just wanted to let you know that-"

"Well, that's sounds fun"

"...it's really not, not without you here"

"Aww, you miss me that much~?"

"I do, I miss you so much that it physically hurts"

"Aww I miss you too, honey. Tell you wha-"

Satoru sighs, cutting the saved voice message. What was he even doing, answering to your pre-recorded voice like a deranged person. But maybe he was deranged or tired perhaps both, he's not sure but what he was sure of was the fact that he hated he-

"Papa?"

Satoru hears before he sees, the door swinging open ever so slightly to showcase a pair of eyes, your eyes, meekly looking at him. Your eyes in his face but it's not you neither is it him, it's neither you or him but it's both you and him. It's so conflicting.

"What is it?" His voice softer than he wanted it, harsher than expected.

"I just wanted to show you the drawing I made today in class." Her voice is quiet, her footsteps even quieter as she slowly walks up to him, a rolled up paper carefully held in one tiny fist. She was so small, so tiny, so quiet, so utterly disgusting. Placing it down flat ever so quietly on the table, she takes a step back "It's you, me and...mama" she mumbles, pointing at the three stick figures accordingly.

Satoru pulls his blindfold up and narrows his eyes at the stick figure that was apparently you, your hair was wrong, the color, the length, the very style was wrong. "I-I don't know how mama looks like" she admits, tiny hands grabbing onto her shirt as she looks down.

"Of course, you don't. You killed her, sucked her life-force right out like a fucking parasite" he thinks bitterly to himself, fingers grazing over the paper. Everything was wrong, this whole situation was wrong, but the crudely drawn smile on your face wasn't. The smile wasn't, your smile wasn't. The edges of the crayon smile was raised just perfectly, you smiled just like that, always did even when he-

"Papa?" She calls out, eyes peeking through the soft tufts of arctic white hair- Satoru clears his throat, quietly re-adjusting his blindfold before nodding quickly "it's good, good job." He says, fingers gently outlining the curve of the crayon smile- it's what you would've said to her had you been the one in his place so it's what he'll say to her in your place. "You may leave now"

And don't ever come back.

She nods, reaching out for her drawing but Satoru shakes his head, tugging it closer to him which earns him a surprised reaction, something hopeful glinting in her eyes as she nods and quietly scurries out the door. He sighs when the door closes with a click, standing up and rummaging through his office for a spare frame. You'd have framed it and gushed about it had you been there but you weren't so the least he could do was frame it, he's framing it because it's what you would've done, it's what you would've wanted him to do.

He can't love her for you, he loves you and he'd do anything for you but loving her for you? He can't do that, he's more selfish than that.

Satoru sighs as he carefully puts the drawing in the frame, it's what you would've wanted, it's what you would've done. So he'll do it for you because it's you that loved her.

____________________________________________________________

THIS TOOK SO LONG AND IM FINALLY BACK! I ALSO FOUND A PARTTIME JOB! YAY! Gonna take a lot to buy a new laptop though so wish me luck!

Masterlist

[str4ngergirlw0rld]

Eddie’s sobbing is a muffled, haunting sound in your ears. You swear you can feel your heart pounding out of your chest. The weight of feeling invisible, hurt, and utterly worthless presses down on you. The urge to reach out to him, to comfort him as you’ve always done, is overwhelming, but you’re powerless to act.

“Fuck, it’s all my fault, fuck!” Eddie’s cries are raw, filled with guilt and desperation. You thought you understood why he was crying, but now the confusion and fear make you question everything. “Eddie, what’s wrong?” you ask timidly, your voice trembling, afraid he might lash out at you again. His head snaps in your direction, eyes wide with panic.

“I—I put you in this position, baby! You’re fucking dying because of me!” Eddie’s voice is frantic, his tears mingling with snot streaming down his face. “I can’t—I can’t stop the bleeding. What the fuck, baby, I’m sorry! I’m trying, I’m trying so hard, just hold on for me, please!” He’s pleading, his sobs wracking his body as he reaches for the radio on his hip, hoping Wayne will know what to do. As he speaks, he sees the bright red blood staining his hands, realizing it's yours.

You can only assume it’s your blood causing his panic, but you need him to know it’s not his fault. “Eddie, baby, stop. It’s not your fault. I swear, it’s not your fault—”

“No?!” Eddie interrupts, his voice cracking. “Then how did this happen, huh? How did you end up like this? Was it some mysterious god I don’t even believe in? Shit, baby, yes, it’s my fault. I’m sorry.” He clutches the radio, his hands shaking violently as he cries out for Wayne. The radio crackles before Wayne’s calming voice comes through.

“Wayne, please, please help me. Y/N is bleeding out, I don’t know what to do, Wayne, please,” Eddie sobs, his voice breaking. You can no longer speak, too weak to form coherent sentences. Your vision blurs, the darkness encroaching upon you. You can feel the coldness wrapping around you like a heavy, suffocating blanket. In the distance, Wayne’s voice tries to soothe Eddie.

“Eddie, put pressure on her wounds. Eddie, Eddie, calm down.” Wayne’s voice grows stern and darker. “Eddie, this is your fault.”

Eddie’s eyes drop to you, seeing your lifeless form, your eyes shut and mouth slightly open. The realization hits him hard: you’re dead, and it’s because of him. The sky outside reflects his turmoil—red and angry with lightning flashing ominously. He kneels, holding you close, desperately praying this isn’t real, questioning why he pursued the bats instead of staying with you and Dustin. It’s his fault you’re gone.

Your dream of Steve and Robin dancing in Scoops Ahoy outfits is shattered by a loud whine from across the room. You sit up, squinting in the dim light from the TV, now showing static. As you look around, you see Max and Lucas on the lazy boy, Max’s glasses slipping off her nose and Lucas’s arm draped loosely around her waist. On the sectional couch, El and Mike are sleeping, El’s mouth slightly open and Mike snoring close to her face. Dustin and Will are sprawled on the floor, covered in thick comforters. Nancy and Jonathan are in the guest room upstairs, and Robin is sharing a bed with Steve.

Eddie is curled up in a ball on the pull-out bed, his blanket strewn on the floor. His bangs are matted to his forehead, and his body shakes violently. You quietly get up from the air mattress Steve gave you, careful not to wake anyone else, and tiptoe to Eddie.

“Eddie, Eddie, wake up,” you whisper, shaking his shoulder gently. “Eddie, Eds, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.” Your voice is soothing, trying to offer comfort without startling him. “What’s wrong with him?” a voice asks suddenly, making you jump. You turn to see El, her hair messy, looking concerned.

“He’s having a nightmare, babe. I was just trying to wake him up,” you explain. “Oh,” El replies. You give Eddie another gentle shake, and his eyes snap open. He looks at you and El with a startled expression and immediately curls up tighter, burying his head in his knees. You and El move in sync, wrapping your arms around him to offer comfort. El’s arms encircle him, while you gently cradle his face and shoulders, trying to lift his gaze.

Eddie finally looks up at you, his eyes bloodshot and red, his face streaked with tears. Your heart aches at the sight of your best friend in such distress. “Eddie, it’s okay. It was just a nightmare,” El says softly. Eddie nods, thanking her and placing a kiss on her forehead, telling her to go back to sleep. She hesitates but leaves when you give her a reassuring look.

“Eddie, let’s get you cleaned up,” you say, leading him to the bathroom. He follows silently, his pinky linked with yours, his tall frame towering over you. You gesture for him to sit on the toilet.

“I didn’t know you were having nightmares, Eddie. Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask, washing your hands in the sink. “I didn’t want to worry you,” he replies, his voice hoarse.

“Worry me? Eddie, you worried me when you almost died a few months ago. You worry me when you close off. I just want to take care of you. You’re my best friend. I wish it had been me instead of you. It should have been m—”

“Don’t you dare finish that fucking sentence, Y/N. Don’t. It’s not your fault; it’s mine. I’m responsible for keeping myself safe, not you,” Eddie’s voice cracks.

“Yeah? Then why are you pushing me away? You’re sure acting like it’s my fault.” Tears well up in your eyes, your voice choked with emotion. “Listen, angel, sit.” Eddie guides you to sit on the edge of the bathtub, taking both your hands in his. He brings them to his mouth, holding them close as he speaks through sobs. “I never told you because the dreams are too painful. It’s not your fault. I keep dreaming of you dying in my arms. It’s unbearable to see your face, not when all I see is your soul leaving your eyes.”

“Eddie, you could have told me. I’ve always been here. I’ve been here, I’ve been right here, Eddie. I thought—I thought I lost you. I thought you hated me. I couldn’t handle that, not when I love you more than anything. I’m so in love with you, and you put me through so much pain, baby. I just needed you to talk to me,” you say, your head hanging low, tears streaming down your face. The pain of his distance and silence becomes clearer to you, and you finally understand why he was so distant and why he left you in the dark.

Eddie lifts your chin to meet his gaze, his eyes reflecting your own anguish. “Fuck, I love you too, baby. I love you so much. Why do you think this was so hard for me, huh? I thought I kept losing the love of my life. Baby, I couldn’t handle that.” He presses his forehead to yours, his voice trembling with emotion. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, baby,” he murmurs, his voice filled with regret.

“Look at me, baby,” Eddie pleads. You lift your gaze to his eyes and then down to his lips.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks softly.

“Yes,” you reply. His mouth finds yours in a fervent kiss, his tongue sliding past your lips to meet yours in a grateful and passionate embrace. After what feels like hours, you finally pull away, both of you breathless and teary.

“I love you, baby,” Eddie says, his voice tender and filled with relief.

“I love you too, Eds,” you respond, your heart aching but full.

After cleaning his face and him cleaning yours, you walk hand in hand back to Steve’s living room. Eddie heads towards the pull-out bed, while you make your way back to your air mattress.

“Eddie,” you call softly.

“Yeah, baby?” he replies.

“Come lay with me.”

“Ugh, thank fuck. I don’t think I could sleep without you, even if I wanted to,” he says with a sigh of relief.

He immediately bounces onto the air mattress and buries his face in your chest. Your fingers find their way into his curls as he kisses your stomach and rests his hands gently on your sides.

“Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you,” he murmurs, his warm breath caressing your belly.

“Goodnight, angel. I love you too,” you respond softly.

That time , Eddie falls into a dreamless sleep, comforted by your presence and the reassurance of your shared love. not caring what looms the corner of his mind. you love him with his scars with his imperfections. thats all eddie cares about.

[hom3landr]

For your dark prompts: HomelanderxFem!Reader

"Do it or I'll make you," + Stalking/Obsession

The Butterfly Effect

Alternate Dark version of Tea and Honey

18+

CW: DUBCON

What if the mug broke? What if one tiny hiccup changed everything? An alternate version of Tea and Honey where one small accident changes Homelander’s and Baker’s stories forever

Homelander’s eyes land on a lone mug on your counter. It’s colorful and chipped and so you that the unexpected rush of endearment he feels helps direct him out of his rage for a moment. His brow furrows as an idea begins to form. He can fix this. He just needs to do what you would do. But his hands are still clumsy with emotion and when he reaches for the mug, his grip causes the pottery to shatter. The noise is so loud in his ears and his chest heaves. What if that was your favorite mug? He imagines that’s what your skull would feel like crumpled between his palms. He digs his palms into his eyes and he can feel the heat from the glow of his lasers.

“Listen to me. C’mon Tiger, when have I ever let you down?” The familiar voice cajoles him. Homelander turns teary eyes to the glass at last and finds his old friend looking back at him. He shrinks back from his condescending gaze.

“Can you help? I don’t want her to hate me.” He sniffles, ashamed at his emotional reaction. He’s pathetic and he hates that about himself. You’re just a toy, something to amuse himself with. But here he is weeping like a snot nosed little brat at the mere thought of your disapproval. He cringes.

“Why don’t you let me take over for a bit? I’ll straighten it all out.” The mirror replies, smug. Homelander falters for a moment. He wants more than anything to hand things over for the moment, to have someone else deal with the responsibility. But he’s aware of the methods normally required. He clears his throat nervously.

“Just…don’t hurt her.” He answers sheepishly. He can feel the disapproval from the figure in the glass and he has to look away for a moment. The voice goes quiet and Homelander crushes the remaining pottery shards in his hands to dust.

“Don’t worry, I won’t break your toy. She just needs a little…fixing before she will be ready for you to play with again.” The voice assures him and Homelander’s stomach twists. He doesn’t like the sound of that but he doesn’t have a choice. If he continues like this, he’ll just keep fucking up. He doesn’t know what else to do so he nods.

“Atta boy.”

————————

Homelander steps out of the kitchen and rolls his eyes at the pathetic figure you make on the couch. Is this really what has John in such a tizzy? This? It baffles him. Your sniffles set his teeth on edge. It’s so tempting to just stalk over and snap your neck. That way he’d be able to remove the hindrance of you from John’s life so he wouldn’t have anything holding him back from his true self. But…that would cause more problems then it would solve when John returns so he begrudgingly restrains himself. He’ll just teach you a few manners before it’s time to hand the reins back over.

“I’m sorry.” You whimper into your knees. Homelander snorts. If you were really sorry you’d get down on your knees and grovel. You’d open your mouth like a good little toy to accept whatever he decided to give you. Do you expect him to coddle you?

“I’m so so sorry. I ruined everything.” Your whiny little apology grates on his nerves. Maybe you should have thought of that before you threw your temper tantrum over a little thunder. He needs to teach you a lesson about how not to be an over-reactive little brat. He needs to teach you that your place is to make John happy and if he wants to dangle you over a pit of hungry sharks, your job should be to bat your eyes and thank him for the privilege. That’s all humans are good for.

“You did.” He replies blankly. You sob and he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“What the actual fuck, John? At least the last one wasn’t such an incompetent waste of space.”

There’s no answer so he must be hiding in shame. Pathetic.

“Stop fucking crying. You’re giving me a headache.” He grumbles. You do stop and you finally raise your head to look at him. Your lips tremble but the hurt in your eyes slowly morphs into a sharpness that’s intriguing.

“That’s better. Y’know…you really fucked up kiddo. But there’s always room for a redemption arc. I’ll let you make it up to me.” He says smugly. You give one last disgusting sniffle before you grab a tissue from the couch side table to wipe your nose. Your eyes are wary and suspicious. You blink away your tears. He’s surprised. As insipid as you are, you seem to have noticed that there is something different about your “friend.” Although…he supposes it isn’t that difficult when you’re used to getting smoke blown up your spoiled ass.

“Make it up to you?” You repeat slowly, as if it’s some ridiculous suggestion. “Sure, I’ll make you whatever you want! I only have ingredients for brownies at the moment but I can run to the…” He cuts you off with a gesture as he grits his teeth. He can’t stand your rambling. Why do you always seem to think he cares about what you have to say?

“No. Your baking isn’t special.” He ignores the flash of angry hurt that crosses your face. “I’m going to need something really good if I’m going to excuse your behavior.”

Your mouth twitches as if you’re about to answer but he can smell iron when you bite your lip hard enough to split it. You crumple the snotty tissue in your fist.

“Do you want to know what that is?” He asks with a tilt of his head. “Go on…ask me.”

You don’t answer but you continue to meet his gaze with suspicious eyes.

“Fine, I’ll tell you. But you’re going to have to adjust your attitude or this will be a lot harder than it has to be.” He saunters over with his hands crossed under his cape until he’s looming over you on the couch. You shrink back and he’s filled with a sick sense of pleasure at your fear. It’s not as much as he was expecting but he can work with that. “You are going to wipe those pathetic tears off your face, grow a fucking spine, and I’m going to fly you back out into the storm as long as I please until you’re cured of this ridiculous attitude.”

“No!” You shout and the surprise of it causes him to step back. “I’m sorry I hit you. I am. I truly am. But I’m not going back out there. I won’t!”

Homelander crouches and like a snake his hand darts out to grab your chin with a bruising grip. You whimper painfully as he tilts your face up and he leans in close enough to kiss you if he wanted.

“Do it or I’ll make you.” He hisses and his eyes flare red. He can hear your heart beating quickly in your chest like a little hummingbird. He imagines crushing it in his fist. You flinch back at the heat but he’s surprised at the way your expression doesn’t falter. He’s starting to realize he might have been wrong about you. You’re tougher than you look. You scrunch your brow and your eyes are full of uncertainty. Yet your chin still juts out with foolish bravery and righteous indignation. It’s cute. If he squints he can almost get what John sees in you.

“That’s not a choice because I can’t say no.” You reply. He laughs. Did… The laugh turns into a wheeze. Did you really think he is truly giving you a choice? What fucking planet are you from? He’s decided that he does like you. You’re fun to play with. He wishes he was allowed to break you…that’s always the part he likes the most.

“You can say no.” He purrs, releasing your chin to run a finger down your cheek. You shudder at the unexpectant gentleness.

“I can?” You reply quietly, voice shaky with uncertainty. But if you see the trap then you’re good at ignoring it. If you don’t then you’re just stupid. “Well…then I’m saying no.”

Just stupid then.

“Alright.” He answers, his hand now gripping the back of your neck firmly. You blink owlishly when you try to pull away only to meet an iron resistance. Your heart skips an anxious beat.

“Are you going to let me go now?” You ask shakily and he’s almost admiring of your stubborn idiocy.

“When did I say I was letting you go?” He leans in to whisper in your ear. He can’t resist nibbling a bit and you jump and shiver against him. He inhales deeply.

You’re wet.

“You…you just said I could say no.” You fight his hold once again but he only tightens his grip until you start to wince.

“Yes, and you’ve said it. But I never said it meant you could leave.” His voice lowers to a growl. “Now, you’re going to be obedient or I’m going to get creative.”

He reaches his other hand down to stroke the inside of your thigh. You inhale sharply and he groans at the scent of you on his tongue. Maybe this is why John is so pussy whipped when he hasn’t even tried you out yet. You smell fucking delicious. He wonders what you’d do if he buried his face between your legs just to breathe you in. He would…if he wasn’t determined to teach you a lesson first.

“Who are you?” You ask bluntly. The accusation in your voice takes him by surprise. He tilts his head curiously. Aren’t you a clever bug?

“I’m the Homelander” He replies, his hand sliding high until his fingers brush against the apex of your thighs. You jolt and slap your hand down on top of his, although your scent only grows stronger at his bold touches. Your cheeks are warm now too. Homelander scoffs. John should have been giving you what you need. You’re woefully deprived of attention when even a threat has you dripping for his touch. John doesn’t even know what he’s missing.

“You’re not him!” You argue with him and fuck you are cute when you’re all in a tizzy. You’re so convinced that your “hero” is a gentleman. It’s so hilariously misguided. “I don’t know who you are but you’re different. You’re wearing his skin or something. I know him and he’s not perfect but he wouldn’t treat me like thi…!”

“Do you want to know all the disgusting thoughts he’s had about you?” He strokes the inside of your thigh and feels incredibly smug at the adorable look of pure shock on your face. Your mouth drops open and your eyes grow round as saucers. The heat in your cheeks floods your body from the top of your ears to the tips of your toes. You wriggle in his grip but he moves his hand to cup you boldly. You let out a broken whine.

“While you were daydreaming about your “Prince Charming” he was coming his brains out thinking about his tongue in that wet little pussy of yours.” He leans forward to purr in your ear. His fingers are still but he refuses to move his hand from its home between your legs. You whimper and bite your swollen lip, still split from your teeth earlier.

“He pretends to be such a gentleman, thinking that’s what you want. But it’s not what you want, is it?” He chuckles darkly. “Did you know that he can smell whenever you get wet? You’d prance around like butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth but brown sugar wasn’t the only thing filling his nose.”

“WHO ARE YOU?!” You yell and you shove against his chest. He reluctantly pulls away. He’s too curious as to what you think you’re going to do with your pitiful human bravery.

“I’m a friend of his. I help him whenever he needs.” He answers, leaning back on his heels to give you a little space. You cross your legs immediately but the way you shift lets him know that it’s not purely out of modesty. You filthy little slut. He’d take care of you better than John ever could.

“Where’s my Homelander?” You push.

An unexpected flash of jealousy burns in his chest.

“I am your Homelander! I’m just…a different part of him, I suppose.” He replies, as a wicked wicked thought enters his mind. “But…if you want him back, you’ll need to coax him back. You hurt his feelings pretty badly. He needs some reassurance.”

“What kind of reassurance?” You reply warily.

He gives you a smile that would put a shark to shame.

He was planning to punish you. He wanted to teach you to mind your manners. He wanted to show you your place. But now…his idea of where that is has shifted. After all his hard work over the years keeping John safe, he deserves a little treat for himself. It’s time for him to get some sugar.

“I bet that sweet body of yours would get him back here pretty quick.” He reaches out to rest a hand on your knee. He expects you to flinch but all you do is take a slow shaky inhale. It’s almost as if you knew it was all going to lead to this point. He squeezes just a little and a soft noise escapes your lips.

“He’ll come back? Will he… I mean…we’re a thing kinda and I don’t know if he’d want…” You can’t quite articulate what you're trying to say but he’s enjoying watching you try. He knows what you mean anyway. You’re worried that you’ll be cheating on him with himself. The situation is so bizarre that he can’t help but laugh.

“If it makes you feel better, all I want is a taste. I’ll leave that cherry for him.” He gives a reassuring pat to your knee. “Besides, same guy just different…perspectives.”

You swallow thickly and don’t meet his gaze but when he kneels and gently peels your legs apart, he doesn’t meet any resistance. Not that it would matter if you did resist, but it’s nice to have your cooperation. He groans low in his throat as he yanks you forward and you gasp as he buries his nose in the wet spot soaking through your sleep shorts.

No panties either…naughty

He breathes you in hungrily, growling against the damp fabric. His hands grip your hips firmly to hold you in place. Your heart is beating quick like a little rabbit as you struggle to keep your breathing steady at the onslaught of sensation. He should send John a gift basket for fucking up because he can’t remember the last time he indulged in this. He’s used to backseat driving but to have control of the wheel…he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to give your sweet pussy up. He wouldn’t need your approval, just your wet cunt wrapped around him as he fucks you stupid. You would simply have to forget about any life beyond his bed.

He nuzzles further into you and he’s pleasantly surprised when you shyly grip his hair. You’re barely even tugging but just the brush of your fingers against his scalp is making his cock throb against the cup of his suit. He can feel the hard nub of your clit bump against his nose through your shorts. He pinches the inside of your thigh to make you jump and squeal. He barely used any pressure but the skin is already turning red. It’ll probably bruise and Homelander finds he really likes that. He likes the idea of leaving a mark on you that’s his and not John’s.

He finally decides to take a taste so he tugs the gusset of your tiny little shorts to the side and wastes no time licking a stripe up your pretty cunt. You’re dripping like a slut and the sweet musky taste of you has him bucking into the air. He makes himself comfy as he lifts your legs onto his shoulders. He can’t see anything past your pussy but he just knows that your toes are curling as he occupies himself with sucking on your clit. Your grip on his hair finally graduates to sharp yanks with every fresh bolt of pleasure that courses through you.

For all of John’s fantasies, none of them came close to what it’s like to actually tongue your hole till you squeal.

“Homelander” You moan and his hips buck into the air. You sound so good when you say his name.

“You’ve been starving for this, haven’t you? Despite acting like such a cocktease in your little strawberry apron. Although I’m surprised, as much as he’s watched you…shhh shh shhh oh yes he has. As much as he’s watched you he never saw you playing with that needy cunt of yours. Don’t tell me you’re such a goody two shoes that you don’t even get yourself off?” He slaps your ass for good measure and he can feel you pulse against his tongue. John wouldn’t be happy that he exposed his dirty secret but if the cat is already out of the bag, he doesn’t see the point in trying to shove it back in. Especially when it’s so fun to play with.

“S-shower.” You choke out and he hums in understanding. John had no problems rubbing one out while watching you sleep but he did have his boundaries. He never watched you in the bathroom. Homelander snorts and chuckles to himself. Shows what happens when you play along with human morality, you tend to miss the good stuff.

“Showerhead? Or do you have one of those toys suctioned to the wall of the shower so you can fuck away at it.” He teases before inserting two of his thick gloved fingers. You’re too wet for much friction but the stretch makes you cry out in shock. He knows it must be so intense for you. Especially with how fucking tight you are. “Hmmm I don’t think it’s the second one. I can barely even stuff a couple fingers in you.”

“Fuck!” You sob and the curse feels like a victory. John’s never heard you cuss like this. He reaches down with his free hand to unclick his belt and pull his cock out. He stokes in time with the throbbing of your clit under his tongue.

“That’s it. Show me how filthy you are” He growls.

He curls his fingers and he rapidly has to remove his hand from his cock to steady you before you buck off the couch. Your legs are shaking. He isn’t even close to being through with you. John is just going to have to wait his fucking turn.

“So good!” You cry out and it’s like a shockwave to his system. “You’re so good. Feels so good.”

Homelander moans like a whore into your clenching cunt. Your praise hitting something devastating inside him. His grip on you flexes and his cock bobs. He sucks on your clit again just to hear it. He softens his kisses till they’re teasing and playful instead of the all consuming overwhelm like before. You tug his hair pleasantly and he hums.

The air feels thick as reality starts to melt a little at the edges. Each desperate compliment that falls from your lips has him feeling like he’s in a dream. He’s far away and up close all at once. The warm weight of your legs on his shoulders is soothing. He scissors his fingers, stretching you out further as he laps at your clit.

“You’re so good to me.” You sigh and the air swims. He nips at your thigh, sucking a bruise to match the one from his pinch earlier. Something inside him is aching to be rougher, firmer, meaner. It’s tempting. But he doesn’t want to treat you like that. You’re better than all those other vermin. You deserve to be worshiped.

“So pretty.” His moan is muffled by your pussy. “Pretty and mine.”

“Homelander!” You cry out and he holds you gently but firmly as you writhe.

You come hard under his tongue and he pumps his fingers as he milks you of your release. He presses his tongue flat to your clit to feel you shudder and your moans are like music to his ears. You taste so fucking good, better than anything he could have imagined on his own. He laps against you lazily as he tries to prolong this dream as much as possible. He doesn’t want to face the way he left you. He wants to be your good boy just like this.

He licks his lips and sighs. He waits for that uncomfortable ache of returning to reality, of having to leave this cozy escape he’s found himself in. His mirror self is probably still handling everything. But as he catches his breath it occurs to him that this feels all too realistic. He doesn’t remember anything when he hides. It’s always a blip in lost time and he’s back. Why is he dreaming now?

A horrifying realization hits him.

He scuttles backward and your legs hit the floor with an ominous thump. You stare at him dazed and a swirling mass of anxiety builds in his stomach. What did he do to you? Did he…? Did you…? What if you didn’t want…? He shakes his head and shrinks away from your increasingly concerned stare.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry I didn’t know. I didn’t mean…” His words stutter. He’d been so good for you for so long. Now he’s ruined it all. He shouldn’t have ran. He should have been brave. He should have been good.

“Homelander?” You say softly, you shakily stand from the couch and wobble over to him. You crouch and reach out to cradle his head in your hands. He can’t meet your eyes. He’s terrified of what he’ll find. His chin is still soaking and it causes his cock to twitch despite his best efforts. He suddenly reaches down to fumble with putting his cock back in his pants upon realization of his exposure. An embarrassed tear almost escapes before it’s tenderly wiped away by your thumb.

“My Homelander.” You say so fondly that he can’t help but meet your eyes. He doesn’t expect what he finds. You’re looking at him like he hung the moon, all dewy eyed and soft. You look at him like he’s the best thing you’ve ever seen.

“I…” He manages to choke out but even that dies in his throat.

You practically tackle him as you pepper his face in kisses. You don’t seem to mind the taste of yourself as you press your lips everywhere you can. Your previous anger over the storm seems to have dissolved in your eagerness to see him. Once he’s over his shock, he wraps his arms around you as tight as he can and tries not to cry in relief.

You aren’t angry. You don’t hate him. He’s yours.

“Told you I’d take care of it. Don’t fuck things up with her again.”

“I won’t.” He whispers fervently into your shoulder.

“I might not let you have her back next time.”

Homelander is too busy loving you to think too much about the implications of that. All he knows is that he’ll never doubt that voice in the mirror again.

[hidden-snow]

✦┈⋆┈ ⋞ 〈 Ｒｕｎｎｉｎｇ Ｈｏｍｅ ｔｏ Ｙｏｕ 〉 ⋟ ┈⋆┈✦

Summary // You thought your relationship was as special to him as it was to you. You thought he loved and cherished you as much as you loved and cherished him. But when his family leaves the Omatikaya and all he has to offer is ‘I’m sorry’ when you beg and plead for him to stay with you, you realize that you were so, so wrong about him. Heartbroken and defeated, a girl barely seventeen years old, you decide that you will never love again. After all, it hadn’t meant anything to him. Years later and you are the best of the best. A strong warrior and an even better hunter, you provide for your people in every way except for a child to add to the next generation of Omatikaya people. They respect your wishes but you can hear the whispers. You can feel the concerned gazes from your parents, too old to conceive a sibling to make up for your lack of children. When he comes back, it throws you through a loop. Handsome, mighty, and different, he comes to you right away. But you promised yourself.

Warnings // Angst, a bit of stalker Neteyam, some fluff, mentions of drinking, heartbreak

Word count // 1,694

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7

You know the soul-shattering feeling of your heart physically breaking?

That’s what was happening at this very moment. Acid tears, so hot that you’re convinced that your face is melting off, slid down your cheeks in rivers and burned your eyes as they spilled out. Your ears are ringing so loud and high-pitched, you can’t really even hear his words.

You’re pretty sure you’re pleading for him to stay by the fact that your lips are moving. His face pinches slightly in guilt as he listens to your pleas, though you know, as he squeezes your hands, your words are falling upon deaf ears. You grip his hands tightly to keep him here, with you, just a little bit longer, trying to make this moment stretch out as much as you could make it.

All you know is that your heart is breaking rapidly, you’re a sobbing, sweating, shaking mess in front of your yawne, and there’s a rapidly growing lump in the back of your throat that you can’t seem to swallow down, no matter how hard you try.

He looks at you quietly, searching your face, before squeezing your hands once more, gently. He leans down, lips to your ears, and he whispers out a quick “I’m sorry” before pulling out of your grasp.

And then, he was gone, leaving you to pick up the shattered, splintered shards of your glass heart all alone.

»»——⍟——««

That was three years ago. Three years ago, you were left to learn how to live a life without Neteyam to light your path and your world. Three years to find a new center of gravity for your world to revolve around. And you did.

You threw yourself into your training, working hard to become the best hunter and warrior the Omaticaya had ever seen. It kept your mind busy and  your heart intact.

The clan expected you to move on from the unexpected incident that would forever leave you wondering what you could’ve done wrong, but you hadn’t.

Not yet.

Three years and the pain of his betrayal was still just as raw and bitter as the day he’d chosen to leave you behind. You used to dream of him, dream of the moments you’d had with him. Over time, they’d turned to nightmares of him never coming back, leaving you to grow old by yourself. After that, your nightmares worsened, showing your worst fears to you at night; Neteyam coming back different. Different appearance, different personality, different everything. Those ones always left you curled up in a fetal position, sobbing into your hands in the morning.

At first, men tried to sway your stone cold heart, convinced that they had a chance with you now that the olo’eyktan’s son and your best friend was gone. Eventually, though, the attempts slowed, trickling down to a dry riverbed of looks and whispers pointed your way.

You watched as people your age, the people who grew up alongside you, settled down and began to have families of their own. That life looked nice, peaceful and comfortable, but it wasn’t the life for you.

Your parents tried to talk to you, to find a suitable mate that could mend your heart in ways that only Neteyam could. There were times you’d lay awake at night, listening to their hushed whispers as they tried to figure out a way to help you move on from your tragic breakup.

It was a pity they didn’t have any other children to provide them the grandchildren they longed for.

And then, in a blaze of glory and fancy, excitement-filled celebrations, he was back. After three years, he was back.

Taller, with broad shoulders and a grin that could melt hearts, Neteyam looked different and familiar all at the same time. Tattoos covered one side of chest and his shoulder as well as some of his face. His hair was the same, thin small braids, but some of the braids were pulled back into a bun at the back of his skull.

The moment he’d seen you, he tried to approach and you’d fled, unable to face the one person who could destroy everything you’d built in his absence.

You’d found a place that was private, safe from the eyes as well as the ears of others, offering you the safety to shed the tears that had been burning at the corners of your eyes.

You couldn’t help the burning suspicion that the village had planned this, that they had known he was coming back and they’d purposefully hid this revelation from you. As if they were expecting you to be wooed off your feet if you’d been taken by surprise. Their own planned romantic story.

It was a turmoil of emotions to try and process and, in order to address your emotions, you did the one thing that usually helped you focus and calm down; hunting.

By the time you got back to the path leading towards the village, the sun had already set in the sky, night taking over the forest, bioluminescent flora and fauna lighting your path as you walked.

You couldn’t help but slow your steady pace, despite the heavy yerik resting over your shoulders, as you marveled at the beauty of your home. Neon blues, greens, purples, and pinks glowed all around you, surrounding you, and it further built up the peace that had settled in your mind.

“You look beautiful right now, Y/n. I’d forgotten how perfect you looked when you were at peace.”

At the sound of the masculine voice, you spin around, dropping the yerik in the process in order to swap it out for the blade that sat at your waist.

Your eyes meet gentle, adoring golden eyes, and a smile pulls at his perfect lips. Despite the smile, the raise of his non-existent eyebrow pulls at his face, making him look more questioning than anything.

“What do you want, Neteyam?” you ask, trying to force yourself to be civil. Just because he broke your heart into a million tiny places, trampling on it and spitting on it by leaving you, it didn’t mean your parents hadn’t raised you to be polite.

Even to assholes like him.

“Mawey yawne,” he hums softly, moving closer, and you instinctively step back, keeping the same amount of space between him and yourself. Your hand continued to grip the handle of your knife tightly, prepared to stab and run if you needed to.

A perplexed expression crosses his face and, for just a split second, his smile dropped into a curious look.

“I am not your yawne. You lost that nickname when you left me,” you spat back at him and he let out a long sigh, deep and tired, as if he was dealing with a fussy, stubborn child, rather than a fellow adult.

You cross your arms, tapping your foot slightly. You have no patience for him. When, once before, you’d enjoy dancing around topics, swapping playful banter and loving nicknames, you just want to be left alone now.

“Alright. What would you prefer I call you, if not yawne?”

“Just address me as you have. My name is perfectly fine for the likes of you. Now, why do you harass me? It’s not like you cared much before.”

He turns his head away, looking towards the village, before meeting your eyes again.

“I didn’t see you at supper. I got worried, so I came to wait for your return.”

“How thoughtful,” you bit back, gathering up your yerik. When he moved to help, you slap his hands away and shove past him to continue up the trail towards home.

How ironic that he worried about your safety now, considering how little he cared before. It was almost as if Eywa had a twisted sense of humor, putting him in situations that mirrored the one before and guiding him to react in a different way. As if trying to make your dreams come back to life.

This time, though, you weren’t going to fall for the act. After all, it was just an act. Nothing more and nothing less. You hadn’t meant enough to him then. You certainly mean nothing to him now.

»»——⍟——««

He hadn’t meant to scare you off. Watching you disappear along the path with your game slung over your shoulders, his gaze traveled down your spine, towards your rounded ass that bounced with step in your elegant stride.

A lot had changed, he realized, with you. Three years had not only seen you out of your awkwardly adorable childhood and into the elegance of a fully blossomed woman, but also had seen the change of your personality.

Whereas before, you’d been sweet, bouncy, and optimistic, you now carried yourself with a calmness that spoke of just how proud you were of yourself. Nothing could throw you off, nor could it stop you from being so damn independent. Had it really changed you that much when he’d chosen to go with his family to the reef people?

Where had that sweet girl gone?

Poking his tongue out, he licked at his lips before following after you, keeping enough distance between you and himself that you wouldn’t realize he was following you. Try as he might, he could never forget you and, convinced that you would immediately allow him to sweep you off of your feet, he’d come back.

Was he obsessed with you?

Definitely.

Had he always been obsessed with you? There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he had been.

There was never a day that he didn’t think about you, about the way you looked up at him with such large, adoring eyes. The way your voice seemed to float like the clouds, soft like a song just waiting to be sung.

Before, you were smaller, just hitting puberty, with a thin waist and small frame. Now, you were a full fledged woman, curves in all the right places, with thick black hair that tumbled down your back and over your shoulders in curly waves.

You were beautiful then and now. And he was never going to let you go again.

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐒𝐎 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞.

Characters: Gojo, Toji, Sukuna, Geto, Nanami

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1505

Warnings: Reader is extremely sub coded with Sukuna, but otherwise no warnings really.

NOTE: Although there isn't any smut in this my blog is still very much an adult blog. Anyone under 18 please refrain from interacting with my posts.

𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

Gojo sleeps like a comfortable cat. He sprawls out over the bed taking up as much space as he can, while also being as close to you as possible. Of course, he can tell when you make even the slightest movement. 

He doesn't like waking up though. He'll crack open an eye to look at you and survey what the problem is. 

Sometimes it's just you going to pee, in which case he cuddles you when you're back. Sometimes you get up and have a bit of water from your bedside table for this he doesn't bother moving at all. 

This time however he realises something is wrong. You're sitting up in bed breathing heavily. He immediately gets up. “What's wrong pookie bear?” he asks. When you don't roll your eyes at the cringey nickname he uses he understands it's probably bad. 

He holds you in his arms and you whisper, as if afraid that any loud noise will shatter the safe space around you. “I dreamed of you… You were dancing around the edge of a volcano and you fell in.” You shudder. Gojo cracks a smile.  

“Is that all then? I’d be fine!” He reassures you, patting your back. “It's just a little volcano!” 

Tears start falling from your face, “TORU! We didn't even have a body to bury!!” 

Gojo takes your face in his hands and makes you look into his brilliant blue eyes. “Baby, I will NEVER fall into a volcano…” You nuzzle into his shoulder and his hand rubs your back, a gesture that calms you down. “And even if I did – I wouldn't die. I'm the strongest, remember?” He grins all cocky. 

You roll your eyes but concede. He's right… He is the strongest. It would take more than falling into a volcano to kill him.

𝐅𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

Fushiguro Toji isn't always the kindest, but he really can't bear seeing you suffer. Usually after putting you to sleep, he likes to stay up and have another drink or make himself a snack while he watches some races on the TV or an action movie of some kind. 

Later at night, he might crawl into bed with you, picking you up and laying you on top of him like a human blanket. And some nights he falls asleep on the couch, TV still on, the plate and glass on the floor. 

One night he puts you to bed and is watching an action movie. Beer in one hand tilting dangerously as he gets drowsy. 

“What a boring fucking film.” He scolds the screen, deciding to turn it off and head to the welcoming softness of your bed. 

He enters the room to find you sitting up, knees to your chest softly sobbing. He tiptoes to you quietly, careful to not startle you. 

“Ummm… are you okay?” 

You move your head some way but it's indecipherable to Toji. He pats your back awkwardly. He asks again, hesitantly, “Did I do something honey?” trying to wrack his brain for anything he might have done to upset you. He had broken a mug a few days ago but didn't think it would be a big deal. He'd already shown you and told you he would get you a new one and you had assured him it wasn't a problem. So what was it? 

Suddenly he felt your arms wrap around his waist. “Toji…” 

He holds you closer. “What's up, buttercup?” 

“Would you leave me without telling me?” 

He furrows his brows. “What are you talking about doll?”

“I had a nightmare that you left. Just packed up and went away and I had no idea where you were, or what happened!” Your tears start falling with renewed vigour. 

Toji lifts you like a cat and sits down on the bed, placing you in his lap. Your tear-streaked face looking at him expects an answer but he isn't sure he can give you one. He knew his work could be uncertain; which was also why he had hesitated getting into a relationship with you in the first place. It was why he’d always been more of a ‘wham bam thank you, ma’am’ kinda guy so now, faced with a question like this he can’t think of anything to do but just hold you squishing your head under his chin. “I’m here aren’t I?” 

𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐑𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧

Sukuna Ryomen is a nightmare.

However, on rare occasions, he can be… comforting – in his signature Sukuna way of course. 

He doesn't bother with human functions like sleeping, but you need to so he likes to make you sleep on him. If he’s sitting up and reading then he likes having your head on his lap. If he’s eating, you’re resting on his shoulder. If he’s not feeling too touchy but still wants you to be near him somehow, he will make you sleep by his feet. You're his little human after all. 

But Sukuna likes to take special care of his toys; so when one day you jolt awake at his feet, he lifts you onto his lap. Sitting you down so he can see your face clearly, he asks you what happened, not forgetting to call you a brat of course. 

“It was a nightmare,” you say quietly not wanting to reveal much. 

Of course, this wouldn’t be a satisfactory answer to the King of Curses. “Explain yourself woman!” he squeezes your cheeks between his fingers and thumb. 

“You! You were torturing me.” you cry out feeling his nails against your skin. 

He takes the opportunity to kiss your lips with your face still dwarfed in his massive hand. “There there, my little princess.” And licks a tear rolling down your cheek. “You know I’m not going to mistreat my playthings.” 

He continues saying, “Besides, if I wanted you dead, you would be. I wouldn’t waste my time torturing you.” And that would be the end of that conversation, but you would notice that in his own way, he would be a tiny bit gentler with you from then on… 

𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

Geto Suguru is a man not unfamiliar with nightmares. So when you have one he knows what to do. What he wishes he had when he experiences the same…

He'll clasp you in a tight embrace, squeezing you close to his chest. 

He knows how terrifying it can be and how realistic nightmares feel even if in retrospect they are absolutely ridiculous. 

Geto wakes up hearing a thud and you crying out, “No!”

“What's wrong babe?” he asks, still half asleep voice drawling. He pushes himself up on his arms to take a look at you. 

You're clutching your head with a pained expression, tears filling your eyes. “I had a bad dream.” 

He takes your hand and pulls you towards him, letting you push your nose into his chest. “Did you hit your head on the bedside table too?” He asks slightly amused but still gentle. 

“I was trying to save you, you ungrateful man!” you admonish. 

“Save me?” Geto chuckles, “What from?” You murmur something that he can't make out. 

“Mmm, what was that?” He asks again teasingly. 

“Gojiraaa!” you say, clearer this time the embarrassment evident in your burning cheeks. 

Geto laughs. “Baby… You know I can fight him, right? Easily.” He pauses and then, “Or I could just throw you at him and run. You don't have to worry he won’t get me.” 

You stare at him annoyed, “You know what? He can eat you, I don't care.” 

𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

Nanami Kento is a cuddler. So he knows immediately when you've had a bad dream. He's up before you, hearing you whimper and feeling your body tremble against him. He'll wake you up, hold you close. Bring you some water to drink and stroke your hair. 

He likes to speak to you gently to wake you up, slowly drawing you out of whatever nightmare was eating at you. His deep voice is soothing to hear even in your subconscious. 

You blink your eyes open. There's this dull feeling of terror that's fading away as your surroundings come into focus. 

“My love? I'm here. Wake up for me.” That's your partner's voice. Your Nanaminmin. You feel the warmth of his embrace and snuggle into his broad chest. It's safe. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Shibuya again…” 

Nanami rubs circles into your back wishing desperately that the trauma of the past would stay there. But even if that wasn't to be, at least he could hold you. Love you. He lowers his head to place a chaste kiss on the top of your hair. “It's over my love. I'm here. I'm alive. They couldn't take me from you…” 

He keeps murmuring to you as you hold onto him clutching at his arms. The feeling of terror; not so alien but thankfully fading. He was home. With you. You still had him. Right beside you. He was there. He slowly rocked you back to sleep closer than ever and this time when you slept there were no more nightmares…

A/N: Thank you for reading! I'm open to feedback and do let me know if you find any grammatical errors that i might have over looked.

Also i reject canon. Nanami is alive. Shibuya happened but he was saved. i know i was there. i dragged his half dead body to safety ok bye.

[moon7jay]

omg I'm so in love with the way you write 💖

can you write first time with jungwon but his girlfriend is a bit traumatized by men cause of her bad experience? we really need gentleman jungwon yaay

I rarely write soft sex so bear with me if this isn't as good anon 🫡

DELICATE (y.jw)

MINORS DNI

Warnings : mentions of trauma, panic attack, smut, ig that's all?

Your mind went blank upon hearing the glass bottle crash on the floor, no longer intact it was shattered into pieces with the perfume it held inside gone to complete waste as the expensive fluid seeped into the carpet.

your hands shook as u heard jungwon's voice calling for u from the other room, your throat tightened and your vision started to become hazy, terror filling up your body, freezing it from inside out. You stayed rooted to your place, your heartbeat sounding too loud in your ears as u heard jungwon's footsteps get closer to where u were.

Panic was beginning to overtake u, your mouth gone dry and hold tightening on the dust cloth you were holding in your hands. Your eyes began to water and it was becoming difficult to breathe

"Baby what was that noise? You okay? " Jungwon's voice sounded muffled to you with the blood rushing to your brain. You looked up at him with distraught eyes as your boyfriend finally noticed the shattered perfume bottle.

His perfume bottle, to be precise.

"I-im so sorry, sorry j-jungwon I'm so s-sorry,it was an a-accident"

his head snapped up at hearing your trembling voice, taking in your shaking figure he took a step forward towards u. This action made u flinch, your trauma induced reflex working faster than u could comprehend, bringing two hands in front of you to protect yourself from the oncoming strike as you let the dust cloth fall to the floor and shrinking yourself in size as u begged for forgiveness.

Jungwon was stunned. What the fuck.

He halted his advance towards u instantly upon seeing how terrified u actually were of him. At the same time, he couldn't just stand there while u sobbed on your own. He slowly approached your crouched figure and took your hands softly in his own, removing them from the front of your face, revealing your tear stained cheeks, terrified eyes looking up at him to gauge his next move.

"I'm not going to hurt you baby" He whispered in a soothing tone, hoping it would bring u back. He wanted to puke. Seeing you like this was something he didn't want even in his worst nightmare. You thought he was gonna hit you? You? his sweet little love? he felt an insane urge to scream

Your form stayed frozen, quiet sobs and sniffles coming from your mouth as u stared into his love filled eyes. He loved you. This was your jungwon. He would never hurt you.

"I-ill buy u another, i-i promise I'm so s-sorry, please" u started crying again, fear overtaking all your senses, just the thought that he could stop loving you or leave u over ur stupid mistakes made you cry harder. Why were u such a loser, no wonder your ex didn't love you, no wonder he called you worthless, all u did was destroy things.

"Hey hey hey, look at me y/n, look at me baby-his warm hands cupped your wet face, breaking your inner monologue-i don't care ok? I don't care about that stupid perfume bottle, u can break hundreds of them, here, break this one too I don't give a single fuck"

He grabbed another expensive perfume bottle from his collection behind you and handed it to you

"Just stop crying, I love you, nothing matters more than u y/n, nothing, do u believe me baby? " He asked exasperatedly, his own eyes filling up with moisture just thinking about how deep your past suffering must be for you to react this way. His thumbs continually swiped under your eyes as warm moisture kept seeping from your eyes. But u were beginning to quiet down, nodding slowly,your body had stopped trembling and jungwon took this as a cue to finally wrap your heaving form in his arms. God you were so small, he felt a raging urge to hurt whoever had dared to damage your self esteem in such a drastic way.

He sighed in relief when he felt your arms coming up to wrap around his neck, burying your face in his chest, sniffing quietly.

Jungwon realized that day that you were someone very delicate and fragile at heart. the fact that you had given him the privilege of coming so close to u even after all that u had been through, he thanked his lucky stars for that. You were his baby and he swore to always treat u in a way that would give u no chance of experiencing that hurt ever again.

His hands tightened around your warm, soft body, kissing your head and whispering sweet nothings in your ears, letting u know that he loved you.

your giggles were like music to his ears, watching you like this was something he could do all day, just listening to you talk about random things and adding his own jokes here and there, making you laugh and hit his shoulder. This was all he wanted. You were all he wanted. and damn did he want u so bad.

He could not focus on what you were saying as his gaze pivoted to your delicious lips, he needed a taste and he needed a taste right now. He leaned towards you and cupped your cheek in his palm. you stopped mid sentence and stared into his eyes nervously, his face was inches from yours and the proximity was making u fidget.

"I want to kiss u baby, please tell me u want that too" He whispered and watched in amusement as you blushed profusely and gave him a small shy smile. A small nod from you was all he needed to capture your tempting lips in his own. The kiss started off as soft, but your taste was addicting as he delved further into your mouth, pressing his tongue against your lips, biting softly on your lower one which made u gasp in his mouth, giving him the chance to protrude his tongue into your warm mouth. Your taste was addicting, he reached deeper, licking into your warm cavity with passion. Your hands fisted the couch material that u were sitting on. The kiss felt so good. You had never been kissed with such want before. you were trying your best to return his passion by tangling your tongue with his own when all of a sudden you felt his other hand beginning to slip under your tank top, caressing your naked skin. Jungwon felt your body stiffen underneath his touch and he stopped his movements immediately, pulling back from the kiss. He heard your sharp inhale before he saw the tears gathering in your eyes. He immediately cupped your face "baby what's wrong, did I make u uncomfortable? " He asked softly, trying to understand your boundaries regarding physical touch.

He knew physical touch didn't come easy to you, it was something you struggled with on the daily and you and jungwon had come a long way from the first day when u flinched even from feeling him hold your hand and now u were wrapped around him like a koala everyday. There was progress and he didn't want to ruin it.

"I-im sorry, I don't know what happened" u whispered, a few tear drops rolling down your eyes. This was your jungwon, he would never do anything to hurt u, u reminded yourself. He cooed and shushed you, kissing your tears away

"It's okay baby, I'm willing to wait for u for however long it takes, do u understand me? " He asked and u nodded. Your arms came up to wrap around his neck and u stared deep into his eyes guiltily

"I don't want you to think that I don't want you, because I do " u whispered but jungwon shook his head, wrapping his hands around your waist and pulling you into his lap.

"Never. and I mean it y/n. Never do something u don't wanna do just because u want to spare my feelings. I love you and I would never forgive myself if I ever became the person u have been running from till now"

His words made u tear up and u buried your head in the crook of his neck. U don't remember for how long he whispered sweet confessions and how proud of you he was in your ear until u eventually drifted off to sleep in his arms.

You loved kissing jungwon. And u guessed he loved kissing you too because everytime u both were in a close proximity, his mouth was on yours, desperately making out. But the more time you spent in your boyfriend's arms with his tongue in your mouth the more your desire for him deepened. Your thighs desperately rubbing against each other, trying to get some sort of relief from the burning feeling between your legs.

And u knew that jungwon saw it too, u had seen how he would break the kiss to look down at your rubbing thighs and his eyes would darken and he would kiss you harder, messier. But he never dared cross your boundaries even once. His hands staying respectfully above your clothes, caressing your sides or holding your face, never venturing to touch the parts of you that u hadn't given him permission to touch yet.

And you were beginning to feel so safe around him. Jungwon was your safe place, your safe haven. so different from your past. so loving that u weren't used to being desired this way.

His every action screamed his adoration for you, making you gasp at how someone like him could want someone like you. And as much as he wanted you, he respected you. So much so that he taught u how to respect yourself and your emotions.

u weren't used to that. u weren't used to this. and even though everything was new to u and there were so many new feelings to process, you were sure about one thing. u wanted to give yourself to jungwon. u wanted to feel him intimately.

"um, wonie? " your hesitant voice captured your boyfriend's attention from where he was sitting working on his laptop, atop the couch

"Yeah sweetheart?" He asked u, his eyes looking at your figure sitting in the middle of the bed in nothing but his shirt. you blushed at the nickname and played with the hem of his shirt, making it ride further up your thighs. Your breathing became heavier when u saw how jungwon was ogling at your exposed thighs. One thing about your boyfriend was that he might not be able to touch u with his hands but his eyes were always caressing you every which way. His eyes and lust filled gaze were the reason it had been so difficult for u to control your desires from spiralling like this.

"Do u want to kiss?" u asked shyly, this was the first time u had taken initiative in matters like this

You almost laughed upon watching how fast your boyfriend was shutting down his laptop and sprinting to come close to you on the bed

He made u lie down on your back as he hovered over you, this was the first time u had been underneath him and u could tell that jungwon liked the view

"U know I always wanna kiss u baby, always wanna taste you" He whispered before lowering himself and capturing your lips in his own. You wrapped your arms around his neck, opening your mouth to make way for his tongue, slowly sucking on it, making him groan into your mouth. The sound reached straight between your legs and u were pulling away from the kiss to stare into jungwon's eyes. His panting breaths falling on your face

"Can-can we.. " u trailed off under his intense gaze, suddenly feeling too shy to tell him what u wanted. He sensed that as he bent down to kiss your nose

"Hey, tell me" His soft voice filled with absolute adoration made u more confident

"can we-can we try something new today? " u said, ur eyes looking for a reaction on his face, you bit ur lip when he smirked in shock and joy.

"Yeah? U wanna try something new baby?"

U nodded, pressing yourself closer to his body hovering over yours

"want u so bad won, please take me" u whispered at him and his jaw clenched.

Jungwon cursed under his breath and bent down to suck on the delicate skin of your neck

"Fuck u drive me insane y/n" He whispered, his hands moving down to caress your thighs, a sharp gasp leaving your mouth at his touch but before he could pull his hands away u were holding his hand there by urs.

"I'm okay, I'm okay I promise wonie" u assured him. His grip tightened on the soft flesh of your thighs at your words and he started caressing your flesh.

A sigh escaped from your lips upon feeling his touch, his touch made u feel safe, it didn't make u wanna run away. U closed your eyes and tangled your fingers in his hairs as he sucked small love bites throughout the length of your neck, his palms caressing every inch of naked skin they could find, finally getting the opportunity to grope your pretty body.

His pulled away to gather your shirt on your abdomen, revealing your panties underneath. You heard him curse some profanities while he pushed up the shirt further up your body, revealing your naval which made u bite your lower lip. His fingers prodded at your naval and he looked up at you with a hooded gaze

"Can i? " He asked, his voice heavy with lust and u nodded without asking him what he meant. U just knew that u were ready for whatever it was that he wanted to do. That's the reason why u were caught off gaurd when he started licking your naval, rolling his tongue around the skin of your abdomen, just licking your flesh, making out with it. You fisted the sheets around your head as he continued his ministrations. It felt so good.

His hands reached at the back of your bra and he was asking for your permission again. Soon enough u were left in just your panties, sweet moans filling the bedroom as your boyfriend kept sucking and groaning around your nipples, his hands rubbing over your slit from above your panties. Your fingers were buried in his hairs, pushing him further into ur flesh.

"J-jungwon, please, please" u begged for your boyfriend's touch, feeling your body burning, getting flushed with wanton desire

Jungwon came up to bite your lower lip and groaned at how wet you were, your slick beginning to ooze out from where he was rubbing u over your lace underwear.

"Gonna give u everything u want baby, ask me" he whispered and u moaned at the way his fingers were still pressing on your clit.

"I-inside, won please" you were too far lost into your desire to feel shy any longer. Jungwon looked at you with want, making u drip more. He watched your pretty body heaving and squirming underneath him and his inner beast growled to take and take.

But the way your big, innocent eyes were still fidgeting, his heart felt full of love for you. you were quite literally his everything

"R u sure y/n? We don't have to do this right now, I promise" he kissed your cheek, even though you could feel his hard on pressing against your thighs. You shook your head and kissed him deeply

"I'm sure, I've never been so sure about anything before baby, please make me yours" You whined and jungwon almost came in his pants at the pornographic sounds u were letting out.

Jungwon wanted to eat you out, but the bulge in his pants was starting to hurt, he needed to be wrapped inside your soft and warm pussy folds soon. He lifted himself off of you and finally unbuckled his pants, running his hungry eyes all over your panting figure as he got rid of all his clothes. God he had imagined u like this, naked and pliant underneath him on his bed a lot of fucking times but the real deal was a thousand times better.

You gasped upon seeing his hardened cock and u unconsciously rubbed your thighs together

"That's so big" u moaned and jungwon nodded

"worried it isn't gonna fit sweetheart?"

seeing u nod in worry had him chuckling. He hovered back over your body and inserted his tongue in your mouth while his fingers finally slipped aside your panties and started rubbing your clit in the earnest, swallowing your sinful moans.

Your hands tangled themselves in his locks again and u tugged hard when he inserted a finger in you experimentally, moaning softly

"Fuck, you're fucking soaking baby, so fucking hot" He whispered in your mouth as u continued to squirm and take his fingers in you. One became two , two became three and soon enough you were a blabbering mess, your wet walls clenching around his fingers, making him curse. Jungwon's tongue was tangled with yours when he decided to pull his fingers out of you, bringing the slick coated hand in between your kissing mouths, making you suck and lick on your own wetness while he did the same. Exchanging saliva and your wetness while u both made out messily.

"Taste so good baby, u're driving me crazy" Jungwon groaned, pulling back from your mouth and finally tugging at his cock. Groaning at the momentary relief, precum oozing out of it's slit, just turned on beyond belief. He ran his cockhead over your pussy, bumping your clit with his dick, making u gasp and moan, your hands fisting the sheets as you prepared yourself for the intrusion

"Ready? " He asked, his eyes looked loving as they stared at you, asking for your consent again and it made u fall in love a little harder with him. You nodded with a faint smile and he smiled back at you, coming back to kiss u deeply and lovingly, intertwining his one hand with yours, holding it beside your head while with the other he guided his cock inside of you, finally breaching your entrance in one thrust, swallowing up your screams.

Your hands came up to dig your nails into his shoulders as jungwon pulled out and thrust right back in. snapping his hips against yours with passion. You both stared into each other's eyes, panting and moaning into each other's mouth as he made love to you, your bodies brimming with pleasure

"Feels good yeah?" He groaned, hitting your cervix head on, his cockhead reaching that spot inside of you which made your mouth fall open, too lost in the pleasurable stimulation. u could only nod, bringing him down to kiss you again. Your thighs were covered in your leaking juices, the squelching sounds making it impossible for u to hide your desire. u were impossibly wet

The room was quite except for the skin slapping noises that your lust filled bodies were making, your hips chasing his hips, trying to grind back and moaning out your ecstasy. The tight, wet grip of your pussy around his shaft was making jungwon hungry, hungry for more and he started going deeper in you,wrapping your thigh around his waist. His thrusts remained slow but deep, stroking your insides, making you throb and clench.

Groans and whimpers of pleasure filled the room, whispers of "baby more" and "so good" being exchanged between the passionate sex. This was heaven.

"I love you" u whimpered as you felt yourself unraveling on his cock, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, making him groan at how u deliciously clenched around him, pushing him closer to his own high

"I love u so much baby, your pussy feels so good" He moaned capturing your lips again, fucking you through your orgasm, his hips snapping faster and harder

Needles to say, jungwon took u slow and deep all night long, u both not getting enough of mating and grinding, using your hips to pleasure each other. He fucked u. No.

He made love to you.

He made love to you like u were something delicate, something precious that he needed to handle with care.

[fettuccin-e]

Think About It

Kinktober Day 23: Dirty Talk

Tags: Santiago Garcia x Reader, talk of Frankie Morales x Reader x Santiago Garcia (ie. talk of threesome), unprotected piv (pls wrap it in real life I beg of you), dacryphilia, plenty of dirty talk like it's a lot, light degradation, breeding kink whoopsie, Santiago Garcia is a filthy motherfucker do Not blame me for this (w/c: 1.3K)

A/N: So this may have gotten out of hand a tad so do Not fucking look at me okay??? Santiago Garcia the man that you are I love you sm and also there are so many Frankie mentions in this fic so it could be a prelude to this fic I wrote earlier this month where they actually have a threesome (For Kinktober I have been using this list from flightlessangelwings!)

Santiago Garcia doesn’t get overwhelmed easily. He’s a soldier; he’s been conditioned to withstand the harshest conditions, brave horrible situations without breaking, without letting his hard exterior crack.

But fuck, when he’s with you like this, that exterior shatters like fragile glass, all over the floor in front of your shared bed.

You’re so fucking tight and wet around him as he keeps a hard grip on your hips, yanking you back on his cock, plunging himself as deep as he can fucking get.

“God damn it, baby, taking me so fucking good,” he grits, yanking your hips up further, your face pressed into the pillows as you scrabble at the sheets, clinging for purchase against Santi’s onslaught. “This pussy’s so goddamn wet, she’s fucking leaking around my cock, baby. Making a goddamn mess.”

“Santi,” you whine, “You can’t just-”

He lands a swift smack to your ass, watching as your skin recoils against him. It’s hypnotizing, makes him want to fuck you into these sheets for hours, just to watch your gorgeous body react to him over and over.

“What, baby?” He growls, leaning close and fucking into you hard enough that the headboard smacks against the wall. “Can’t what? Can’t tell you how fucking tight your little pussy is? Can’t tell you that she’s fucking sucking my cock in like you can’t get enough?”

You whine, loud and high-pitched, burying your face in the pillows. Santi snarls in return, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail and yanking your head up until you’re gasping air into your lungs. He fucks you harder, slamming into you violent and fucking reckless. His careful control has burned to ashes before him, lost in the heat of your body.

“Look at you, fucking desperate slut just sobbing on my cock. It’s spreading you so wide, honey, ‘s gonna split you apart,” he snarls, and you hiccup over your moans. “Think this is enough for you baby? This needy pussy just needs more and more and more.”

Your hips will probably bruise under the strength of his grip, but God, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t think you do either, with the way you moan, high and wonton every time he buries himself so deep.

“Should get Frankie, fill you up even more, get you all fucked and loose on two cocks,” he grits, and Christ, the way your cunt clenches around him has him biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from busting inside of you right fucking now.

He chuckles darkly, and you squeak softly when he leans close to you, covering your back with his warm body. “Oh, you like that idea, don’t you?” he grins, and you shiver beneath him.

“Fuck, I don’t- I don’t know,” you whine, pushing yourself back and fucking yourself on Santi’s cock. 

“I do, baby. I know you want it,” he growls, leaning back up again to fuck into you hard enough that you scream. “Could get Fish and we could both fuck you so good, hermosa. Get him buried in this sweet little pussy while I,” he pulls your asscheeks apart to expose that little hole buried between. You jerk and moan when he brushes a finger over it. “I could take this sweet little ass.”

You sob into the sheets, humping involuntarily back into Santi’s harsh thrusts into your heaving body. Tears are dripping down your face and landing on the pillow below you.

Santi groans, fucking lost to it, rambling as he fucks into you like a man possessed.

He leans over you again, wrapping his strong arms around your body and pulling you up until you’re only pressed against him, your tits exposed to the air while he humps up into your cunt.

“I could eat your pretty cunt while Frankie fucks this mouth, show him what a good little cocksucker you are,” he murmurs into your ear, and you gasp his name.

He pulls his arms tighter around you, holding you so fucking tight as he gets so deep into your hot cunt. You’re dripping all over his thighs, his thrusts making lewd snapping noises when his thighs stick to yours every time he shoves his hips in, in, in.

“We talk about you, baby, me n' Frankie,” he mutters, and you can’t do anything but let your mouth gape open as he forces little moans out of your mouth. “Talk about how pretty you look, how good you fucking taste. Frankie needs a taste baby, wants to bury his tongue in this sweet pussy still you’re fucking drowning him.”

“Jesus, Santi, fuck- ah, oh my God,” you slur between labored breaths, and you can feel Santi’s cocky grin against your neck, before he bites sharply into it.

“My gorgeous fucking girl, can’t believe you’re fucking mine,” he snarls snapping his hips up, up up. You dig your nails into his forearms as he breaks you apart, jamming the thick head of his cock up into that little spot that makes you cry so beautiful for him.

“Gonna knock you up, just like this, baby, wouldn’t you like that?” he says, and you hiccup a little yes that has him growling, one of his hands coming down to clutch over your stomach, pawing at your skin.

“I’ll pump this sweet pussy full of my cum, make sure it fucking takes.” You sob like you’re dying, blinking fat tears from your eyes. “And if it doesn’t,” he continues, “I’ll keep fucking you, over and over, flood this cunt till you’re dripping everywhere, leaking down your fucking thighs.”

“Santi, I can’t, I can’t, I’m gonna-”

Santi talks like he can’t hear you, maybe he fucking can’t, too lost in the heat and wetness and the need to hold back his own orgasm brewing deep in his bones. “I’ll fuck this pussy everywhere, I’ll make sure that you have a baby, watch you so round and goddamn beautiful baby, you’ll fucking glow, I just know it. Shit, I’ll fuck you in the kitchen, the goddamn shower, keep you nice and full of me no matter what. I’ll make you nice and loose so you can take my cock all the time, no matter what, just give me the word, sweet girl, and I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll see stars.”

You scream, wordless and overwhelmed, when you cum, your pussy gushing all over Santi’s thighs even as he ruts into you like a goddamn animal. He growls, littering your neck with kisses and bites and licks. The guys will give him shit when you see them next, but he can already picture it: the way Frankie will eye the marks, his pupils blown wide, and Santi will fucking know.

“Please cum, Santi, please fill me up, give me a baby,” you whimper as you shake through your orgasm, and who is Santi to refuse you?

He groans, shoving himself hard into you, as deep as he can get, and floods your cunt with his cum. He hopes the first time will take, that he’ll be able to see the way you get rounder and rounder, carrying your beautiful baby.

When you’re both finally wrung dry, he keeps you hugged tight to him as he lowers you both to your sides. He keeps himself buried deep inside, not wanting a drop to slip out.

“Fucking Christ, Santi,” you mutter, running your hands over his forearms as he buries his face into your hair. He groans, but stays mostly quiet. “Gonna blow your knees out if you keep fucking me like that,” you giggle.

“Worth it,” he mutters, and grins into your hair. “But if I do, we can always call in Fish to keep you satisfied.”

“Shut up,” you chuckle, but Santi doesn’t miss the way you clench around his soft cock at the prospect.

He files the thought away for later.

[demonpiratehuntress]

that's not for you to decide

Roronoa Zoro x F!Reader

Summary - he thinks you deserve better, and decides to push you away. that just makes everything worse, but you ultimately forgive the big idiot.

Warnings - HEAVY angst in the beginning but turns to comfort, this can work for both versions of Zoro i think? REPOSTING BECAUSE I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THE INCOMPLETE DRAFT

GIF by anime-aishiteru

GIF by suuho

You don't know how it came to this. You tried to replay everything you'd ever done, to figure out where it all went wrong. To figure out what you could have possibly gotten so wrong for this to happen. But you were drawing blanks, and it tugged on your heartstrings even more.

You sat there and watched the swordsman listen intently to the woman who spoke to him, a beautiful native of the island.

Your crew had stopped here to replenish your resources. It was supposed to have been just that, yet you ended up staying for far longer than you expected. The downside to having an overenthusiastic captain with a unquenchable thirst for adventure, you supposed. Luffy would never have just sailed away and left this small village to suffer at the hands of a not-so-mythical and super grumpy griffin.

But now here you were, pining after the one person you wanted most in the world - who only seemed to be pushing you away. It gnawed at your heart, and left you painfully overthinking everything you'd ever said to him, everything you'd ever done for him. A week earlier everything had been fine, and he was friendly with you. Then something changed, and he grew distant and cold. And now, it seemed, he was adding 'breaking your heart' to the list of things he was doing to you.

You looked down at your drink just in time to see a teardrop make contact with the alcoholic liquid, the collision sending ripples outwards in the small, circular shape of the glass. You had tried hard, really hard, to not cry right here, in front of everyone. But fate, it seemed, was working even harder to make sure you were heartbroken by the end of the night.

"(Name) are you okay?"

You barely heard Nami, your eyes drifting back towards Zoro and the woman who was chatting to him animatedly. He met your gaze, and for a moment something flickered in his eyes, before he turned his attention back to her and moved closer. He gave her his full attention, making sure to show that he was actually listening and not dozing off like he did whenever Nami was bothering him. Your heart sunk even lower in your chest, a dull aching beginning to grow. The tears fell faster, and you gripped your drink tighter as that familiar stinging in your throat came. You dropped your head again, before unintentionally letting out a loud sob.

All your crewmate's heads snapped in your direction.

"S-Sorry," you apologised, hastily putting your drink down before getting up. "I-I'm-" You stopped when you noticed only one of them hadn't even bothered to look in your direction.

"That idiot," you heard Nami and Sanji grumble in unison.

That was the last straw for you. Your heart crashed to the bottom of its cavern, shattering in the process. Tears filled your eyes faster than you could stop them, blurring your vision to the point you only saw a blob of green a few feet away. You swayed on your feet, stumbling a bit, the full weight of his rejection hitting you full force.

"(Name)!"

You jerked away from the hand that grabbed your arm, not knowing who it was. Only then did Zoro look at you, but that's because everyone else was looking at you as well. You turned and fled, your shaky legs doing their best to carry you as far away from the scene as possible.

You fled into the forest, an area known on this island for it's unimaginable horrors.

-

He only thought you deserved better. In his mind, he was doing you a favour by pushing you away. Because he wasn't good for you, and he didn't deserve you. You deserved a lot better than him. And this was what he thought was a reasonable justification for his behaviour.

His heart sunk at the sight of your tears. He was acting like he didn't see them, but he noticed each and every drop that fell and each one caused a painful pang to reverberate through his chest. He hated it when you were upset, and he despised when you cried. But now he was the cause of it. Part of him wanted to drop this act, run to you and beg for forgiveness.

But he stayed where he was.

He let you think he didn't care. That he was going to keep chatting up this mindless bimbo in front of him. Because that was better for you right? He was only doing this for your sake.

Someone's fist collided with his jaw, sending him stumbling back a bit.

"What the hell?!" He glared at the blonde cook, "You really wanna start a fight right here, waiter?"

Sanji was about to say something equally insulting, but was interrupted by a bloodcurdling scream erupting from within the forest's tall, gloomy trees.

Your bloodcurdling scream.

Zoro's blood ran cold. Every bone in his body stiffened for a millisecond, before he tore off towards the forest, sprinting faster than he ever had in his life. His heart was racing a million miles an hour, thundering in his chest like it would break out of his chest and beat him to you.

When he finally found you, his heart almost stopped.

You were on your back on the ground, lying in a pool of your own blood. Your shirt was ripped at your waist, which seemed to be where your wound was. Upon closer inspection, his panic increased tenfold. The gashes were deep, three long claw marks decorating your waist.

"(Name)!" He surged forward, shaking you roughly. His fear was getting the best of him, and he was starting to think the worst. "(NAME)!"

There was no response from you.

You didn't move.

He placed his ear on your chest, searching frantically for the sound of your heart. He almost gave up, when he heard it. It was very faint, scary faint, and dull. It was barely there.

What had done this to you? Whatever it was, it was incurring Zoro's wrath. He felt an unstable fury build up inside him, anger like nothing he'd felt before ready to consume him. He looked around, desperate to find the cause of your injury and kill it. That would maybe make him feel a bit better - and distract him from the fact that you were half-dead on the floor.

"Z-Zoro?"

Your weak voice caught his attention immediately, and he felt relieved. He turned to you, immediately scooping you up and dragging you onto his lap. He tried not to look at your wound as he removed his shirt, ripped it open and tied it around your waist to at least staunch the bleeding a little.

"Don't talk," was his response, his voice a little higher than it usually was. He was avoiding your gaze, unable to meet your eyes.

This was his fault.

He quietly rose to his feet, bringing your weakened - and, alarmingly, paling - body with him. He held you close, one arm hooked under your knees and the other under your back. He positioned your head on his shoulder, and ran all the way back to the village with you in his arms.

The crew met him halfway, Usopp fainting when he saw how much blood there was. Sanji was glowering at Zoro, absolutely furious that he let such a thing happen. Nami was asking a thousand questions at once, questions the swordsman didn't have the answer to. Luffy had gone quiet, not used to seeing his crew in such a panic, and definitely not used to seeing you drenched in so much red.

"Get her back to the ship," the captain finally spoke, surprisingly the only sane one at the moment.

"Excuse me," they were interrupted by the same woman who was talking to Zoro earlier, "We have a healer. It would be quicker to bring her there, and it looks like she needs immediate treatment. Besides, now we can properly thank you for helping us."

Zoro looked away, guilt ripping through him. She was partially the reason you ran off, him being the other part. He didn't want to make an already bad situation worse, but Luffy immediately nodded and told her to lead them to the healer, so Zoro had no choice. The woman offered him a sympathetic smile and tried to touch him, but he shrugged her off angrily. He was mostly angry with himself, for even daring to pull such a stunt.

-

If you had taken her to your ship, she would have succumbed to her injuries.

Those words played on repeat inside Zoro's head, making the swordsman feel helpless for the first time in his life. This evening had been full of firsts for him.

You were okay now, alive and resting. You were still gravely injured, and they were told those three claw marks would leave permanent scars. Zoro had flinched - you would now have a permanent reminder of the night he'd hurt you in the worst possible way. You'd live, but you needed lots of rest, and would probably need to limit your movements for the next few weeks.

"Sanji!"

The swordsman perked up when he hesrd your voice, indicating that you were finally awake, but his heart fell again when he heard you calling for the cook and not him. He supposed he deserved that, but it still stung quite a bit.

Swallowing his pride, he turned to where you were eagerly hugging Sanji, happy to be up on your feet again. Zoro slowly made his way over, guilt filling him again when he saw the way your smile dropped when you looked at him. Another painful sting.

"I'm going to go find Nami, Usopp and Luffy," you decided, looking away from Zoro. You still loved him, but it hurt to look at him right now after what he did.

"I'll help you, you shouldn't even be moving around like this," Sanji gently took hold of you and led you away.

Zoro wanted to protest, wanted to stop you and pull you into HIS arms is HE can guide you around, but you looked so heartbroken because of him he felt too ashamed to act on that thought.

"No, it's okay. Zoro can help me."

"Are you sure?" Sanji asked uncertainly.

"Yes."

He was stunned to hear you say that. His head snapped in your direction, to see you making your way over to him. He thought he might have passed out and was now dreaming when you wrapped your arms around his middle, leaning into him.

In one swift but gentle movement, you were in his arms.

"I'm sorry," his deep voice rumbled in your ears, "I'm so, so sorry." And for the first time ever, his eyes glossed over with tears. "Please forgive me. I don't deserve it, but I'll do anything to earn your forgiveness. Please."

His begging caught you off-guard, but you were too saddened by the way his voice cracked while he was speaking.

"I love you. I promise I'll show it. Please, please give me a chance."

You bit your lip, looking down at your lap and fiddling with the hem of your shirt, "Why did you do it?"

His grip on you tightened, and he let out a shaky breath, "I thought you deserved better than me. I tried to make you hate me so it would hurt less when you found someone else. Because you deserve someone much better than me, and I don't deserve you at all."

"That's not for you to decide," you said quietly.

"I know, I know," he mumbled, ashamed. He couldn't even meet your gaze anymore.

You sighed, making him look at you, "You are the biggest idiot I have ever met, you know. But despite that, I am still madly in love with you. And I forgive you." You kissed his cheek. "Now let's go find the others."

-

A week later, you were still hobbling around the ship like an old lady with a back problem. Much to Zoro's chagrin, as he kept insisting you stay in bed and he'll do whatever you needed to do. The rest of the crew agreed, all of them taking turns to do your chores or help with your duties while you just rested and recovered.

And you know damn well this green-haired man is going to pick you up and take you straight back to bed if he sees you up and about.

"I'm fine!" You protested, when he brought you dinner that night.

He glared at you, "Your blood is still soaking those bandages. You are not fine. Now stay."

You pouted, "I'm not a dog."

He sighed and gently pressed a kiss to your forehead, "Let me take care of you, alright? I have a lot to make up for, and this is just the start."

"No, you don't have anything to make up for," you smiled innocently, tugging him down next to you. "You didn't attack me."

"But I-"

You shut him up with a kiss, "Listen, it's pretty fucking impossible for me to hold a grudge against you, or to even stay mad at you for five seconds. Seeing the look of shame, guilt and regret on your face on the island was enough for me to know that you didn't want any of that to happen. And what's the point of being upset or angry over something that you didn't intend? It's a waste of emotions."

He stared at you in awe, your words striking him deep, "I'm still sorry."

You sighed. You had already long forgiven him, but he had not yet forgiven himself. It was going to take him a while.

-

"Here."

You glanced up from your bed as Zoro walked into the room, holding something out to you. Your eyes lit up when you saw what it was, eagerly taking the book from his hands and shifting into a more comfortable position.

"I figured since you're stuck here for a while, might as well keep you from being bored," he sat down next to you, slowly. "Do you...like it?"

Over the last few days, you had gotten a multitude of gifts from the green-haired swordsman. From handcrafted to store-bought, he had been surprising you almost every day with something new. He was also - very surprisingly - getting along with Sanji, after hearing you ask him to be nice to the cook. It seemed he was pretty serious about proving his love and erasing all trace of that horrible incident from your mind.

"Does it hurt??"

You snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Zoro's concerned voice, realising you had started crying. With a shaky laugh, you shook your head no and wiped your eyes - you got as far as two drops before he wiped the rest away.

"No, I'm just...I'm so grateful for you. You've been amazing these last few days, even more so than usual. I just don't know how to thank you, and I'm overwhelmed by how loved I feel right now. I love you. So, so much."

His concern melted away into shyness, the small blush coating his cheeks giving away his embarrassment. He tried to cough awkwardly and play it off, but you knew better. He loved being complimented, he was just too stubborn to show it.

"Love you too. Come here." He got into the bed next to you, pulling you close so you lay on his chest, letting you dive into the book while you rested on him comfortably.

-

His acts of service did not stop.

Even after you were able to walk around with no pain, Zoro was still lifting things out of your hand, carrying them to where they needed to be for you. He was still offering to take your night watch, or any watch, and he was still doing your chores.

Even...dare I say it...washing dishes.

"Here."

Sanji handed him another dish to wipe, just as you walked in. You giggled at the sight, a tiny pink apron draped over your boyfriend's body as he wiped the dishes dry and set them on the rack.

"I see you two are hard at work."

Zoro lit up at the sound of your voice, almost dropping the plate he was wiping. He turned to give you a rare, happy smile, greeting you with a loving gleam in his eyes. You returned the smile and sat at the table, watching them work and thinking about how much you absolutely adored this man.

"I can work now, you know."

"Let me think...no," both he and Sanji said in unison.

You laughed.

[swallowtail-lotus]

We will meet again {Hades x Wife!Reader}

Spoilers for rounds 6 & 7 if any of you haven't read to that point.

I have to take down that no angst rule if I haven't done that yet.

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

You accompanied your husband, Hades, walking beside him with teary eyes. You had married him before Zeus was born, so the king of the gods himself saw you as a older sister, just like Poseidon does (although he'll never admit it out loud-). When word of Poseidon losing in round 3 had reached your ear, you sobbed for the god. Hades had to comfort you the best he can, as he couldn't stand hearing you cry.

"You didn't have to come with me." Hades spoke up, looking at you.

"I know, but I didn't want to be alone." You replied, holding his hand. This always brought a smile to his face. You both reached the vip room, where his nephews Hermes and Ares were watching the rounds.

"That is our seat." Hades only had to speak a simple sentence to Ares, who immediately jumped out of the seat while yelling out. Your husband sat down, looking back at you.

"Come sit with me." Hades said. You shook your head, which made Hades a little bit upset but he didn't press any further. You stood beside the seat, watching the current round with nervous eyes.

You watched as the creature, Hajun was slowly gaining the upper hand against the god fighting for humanity, Buddha. You watch with anticipation, feeling relieved when Buddha slowly turned the tables.

"You're the fool here, you big oaf!" Hades exclaimed, snapping you out of your trance. You stepped back in surprise from the volume.

Without saying a word, you walked out, closing the door behind you.

You approached the Valkyrie, Brunhilde and tapped her shoulder. The dark haired woman turned around. The shorter one, Göll did the same, but she yelped out when she saw you.

"Greetings, Lady (Y/n). What brings you here?" Brunhilde asked, her green eyes staring into your own.

"Please don't speak a word to this but...." You whispered the rest into her ear. Brunhilde's eyes widen at what you said, standing in place as you patted her shoulder. You walked past the two Valkyries, your footsteps echoing through the corridors.

__________

The moment a figure in all black walked out after the opponent, everyone present was confused and shocked. Including Zeus and Odin. You had returned to the VIP room after a nice talk with Brunhilde

The human fighter, Qin Shi Huang was confused, but quickly shook it off.

"And who may you be?" Qin asked, pointing at the figure. They sighed and took out their choice of weapon.

"That does not matter. Let's just fight." They replied emotionlessly, raising it high. Qin smirked and got into a fighting stance. The figure thrusted their weapon forward, aiming for Qin's shoulder, who deflected the strike and sent it back to them. The mysterious fighter was sent flying to the other side of the arena.

You say beside your husband, watching the match with a small smile. Hades noticed your smile and saw it as odd, but he brushed it off.

Everyone watched as the fight went on, blood being spilled from one strike to another. Some of the clothing the fighter wore was sliced apart.

When Qin stabbed the fighter through the chest, you felt the same pain. Qin moved the sword diagonally, the blood spraying out from the slice. You winced and clutched your shoulder, getting your husband's attention.

"(Y/n), are you alright?" Hades asked, grabbing you before you fell off. You let out some shaky pants, unable to speak properly.

"I'm sorry, my love..." You whispered, turning into liquid. Hades' eyes widen at the liquid, looking at the figure. The fighter stumbled back, falling to their knees. They reached up and took off the mask, laughing quietly. Hades felt his heart sink when he saw the face.

"(Y/n)?" The god whispered quietly, his arms shaking. You fell backwards, too weak to move from the injuries you received. Like the other fallen fighters, your body started to shatter like glass.

"My Hades....." You moved your eyes to see your husband one last time. You managed to whisper one last thing before you shattered completely.

"Please forgive me.... I love you, my beloved..."

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

congrats on 100 followers! :) id like to request kidd + his so getting hurt while protecting him

Hello Anon!! Thank you so much for this wonderful request! I am so deeply in love with Kid and this little drabble almost wrote itself. I love my chaotic Captain! Also, since you didn't specify gender, I kept it gender neutral, I hope it's alright! And I hope you like this, I had a blast writting it! ❤️

Source for pic

My Personal Hell

Word Count: 2093

Tags: gn!reader; Cursing; LOTS of cursing; SFW; Frustration; Care; Comfort; Love; Fluff; Annoyance; one use of the word cock! Tiny angst?

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: You protect Kid during a Marine attack and end up pretty hurt. He has a very weird way to show his concern and affection towards you.

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn

Notes: Gosh, anyone knows who's the doctor for the Kid's Pirates? Damn this information eluded me!! 😓 I'm sorry!

|Masterlist|

“Fucking reckless idiot! Stupid irresponsible! Fuck!”

You could hear the loud crashes and breaking sounds coming from just outside the infirmary door. Even though it was closed. 

“Could've gotten killed! What the fuck’s wrong with that fucking head?!”

More crashes, wood splintering, metal bending, glass shattering. You were still bordering between consciousness and the sweet limbo of unconsciousness, but his voice was unmistakable. 

And if it wasn't, all the swearing gave him away. 

“How long has he been at it?” Your voice sounds hoarse and raspy, scratching and itching against your throat. Grunting you open and close your eyelids, trying to adjust your vision to the brightness of the white lights. “Fuck, that's bright.”

“Since he brought you in, sweetheart. Now lay still or you'll open up the stitches. And they were a bitch to close, too.”

You stay still, chewing on your lower lip hard enough to draw blood so you can stifle your pained grunts as the Doc finishes up the last stitches. 

“Like, what the fuck! Who am I?” More crashing noises can be heard and the unmistakable creak of more metal bending. “I'm Eustass Fucking Kid! The fucking Captain of this fucking ship, with a fucking 3 billion berry bounty! I don't fucking die!”

You sigh, exasperation adding to your growing pain. “Any chance I can get more drugs, Doc?” You ask, a slight edge to your voice as the vein in your forehead trembles and pops with stress. 

“No can do. You’ve already had enough. Maybe if Heat brings you some of his stash, though, but no chemicals!” The Doc sternly advises and you huff, puffing your cheeks and prolonging the breath to try and distract yourself from the sounds of chaos and apocalypse that are happening just outside the door. 

“I fucking know what I'm fucking doing!” Kid yells. 

You keep nodding your head, counting from one to ten, from ten to one, odd numbers only, even numbers next… Until you've had enough. 

“Fuck this, I’m gonna yell at him.” You let out through your clenched teeth. 

“Don't yell at him, honey.” The Doc advises in a singsong voice. 

“I don't jump straight into fucking danger! I'm not a fucking idiot!” Kid's roar is unmistakable. The man's pissed. 

“Weeeell… I don't know about that. Agree to disagree?” Only Killer would have the balls to answer that savagely to a disgruntled Kid. 

“Piss off ya fucking wanker!”

“I'm gonna yell at him.” You repeat, taking a deep breath and getting ready for it. 

“Don't do it.” The Doc says again, eyes already closing and scrunching in anticipation. 

“I'm gonna!” Arching your torso to try and raise yourself up sends an unbearable jolt of pain through your sternum, chest, belly and back, all at once, and you plop back down, arms hugging your form as you grunt, moan and sob in pain and desperation. Your hands punch the mattress a few times and you bite hard on your lower lip, chewing away the pain to stop sobs and moans of agony. 

“I told ya, honey. Bullet wounds are fucking painful.”

The door doesn't just open: it crashes open, almost falling out of its hinges with the force it was thrown open. 

“What the fuck is going on here?”

“Who here saw this coming?” The Doc asks, a big open smile and hand raised in the air, looking over the shoulder at Killer, whose muffled snickers can be heard behind his mask.

“Oh, fuck you, Kid!” You sputter with another grunt and moan. “Shove your fucking Haki up your ass! You can hear me groan and moan but you can't hear me yell: ‘Watch out, the fucking bullets are made of fucking seastone?’ You fucking blockhead, I-... OUCH!”

You cry out as a sharp pain travels all over your torso, leaving you breathless and panting. 

“Brat, I could hear ya moaning with my head underwater and corks in my ears.” His voice lowers in tone, but not in arrogance. “My fucking cock twitches every time you make that sound!”

A vicious grunt leaves your lips as you're more annoyed that you actually found his retort both funny and endearing, than at himself. 

“Fucking pig!” You mumble between pursed lips. 

“Doc, ya done?” He asks gruffly. 

“Yeah, all patched up. Unless something opens up the stitches again. Like screaming, or trying to forcefully get up! Which I don't recommend!” You roll your eyes to the back of your head at the accusations and, though you're itching to cross your arms over your chest in a defiant gesture, you don't, because you know it'll hurt like a bitch. 

“Good. Leave then.” Kid scratches the chair against the floor purposefully - because he knows it pisses you off - until it's right next to your head, flips it and sits with his legs spread, his arms resting on the back of the chair, a terrifying smile pulling his lips back and revealing a sharp set of canines. “I need to have a few words with my brat.”

It's not quite fear you're feeling. You respect Kid as your captain. Very much. But you don't fear him. He huffs and puffs and barks and growls but very rarely bites. 

Fear is what you felt when he was almost hit by a hail of bullets. When those Marines got cocky and thought they could take down the great Eustass Captain Kid. They weren't counting on you jumping in the way to protect your man at all costs. 

Yes, even at the expense of your life. 

You love Kid more than life itself. Even if he's as stubborn as a mule, as edged as a knife and, as hot-headed as a raging fire. So you regret nothing. 

Lies. Perhaps you regret trying to yell at him just now. You could've avoided this conversation. 

Killer and the Doc leave the infirmary and close the door behind them - after Killer places it back or its hinges - and you look at the ceiling, trying to avoid Kid’s intense, piercing gaze. 

When he speaks, his voice is levelled - which is very rare for him. “This is the last time ya-...”

“Don't tell me what to do!” You snap, your head whipping towards him, and wince to hide the pain. 

“Tough shit! I'm yar fucking captain! Don't like it? Jump overboard!” His hands grip the chair so hard that the metal bends and the indents of his fingers are permanently marked on it. “This was your last field mission.” His words are laced with authority and leave no room for contest. 

“You can't do that!” Your voice turns into a whine, accompanied by a pout and a trembling of your lower lip, and you can only blame this childish behaviour on the drugs. 

“Fucking watch me!” Kid growls as his canines appear, giving him a very feral look as his orange eyes pierce yours, daring you to defy his orders. 

The silence that envelops you both is stifling and suffocating. It weighs down on you and presses harder than the sting of bullets. You love exploring new islands. You thrive on the joy and exhilaration of a fight. Kid knows that. And that's why this is your punishment. 

After some moments of intense, fiery gazing, you break. Your eyes downcast as a stubborn tear escapes the corner of your eye, leaving a shiny trail of wetness on your skin. “Fuck you, Kid.” Your voice is barely a whisper. “I saved your fucking life.”

You can almost feel the tension in the room dissipate. The lights seem brighter and the air stops being charged with intense magnetism as Kid relaxes his posture. His shoulders sag and his head falls forward in a defeated position he wouldn't let just anyone see. 

“I know ya did. And ya almost died. So if I can do anything to avoid that, I will. Because there's no way ya’ll die before I do. No fucking way.” 

You fight but there's no way to stop the tears from flowing now. You know how he felt. Like his heart was out of his chest, being ripped to shreds in front of him and a feeling of dread and helplessness suffocating him. You felt that as well. Before you made the split-second decision to jump. 

And, fuck, you'd do it again. 

“They were seastone bullets, Kid. You'd never have made it out alive. I don't regret anything.”

The way his smile turned cocky in an instant made you weak in the knees. This unhinged side of Kid aroused you to no end. “I would've survived, brat. I can't get killed. Much less by wimpy fucking Marines.”

His laugh roars around the room but you don't find it amusing at all. This cockiness of his, although fucking sexy, will get him killed someday. 

“Go to hell, Kid.”

You reply, eyes closing, trying to dry the flood of tears. Fists clenched against the sheets to stop the trembling and lips pursed to keep the sobs at bay. 

Until his big, calloused hand finds yours and he squeezes it, showing a very rare gentleness. 

“Already been, brat. When ya were bleeding out in my arms, unresponsive and dying. That was my hell. And I'll relive it ‘till the day I fucking die.”

You finally look up to meet his gaze. His eyes look shiny - though still dry - and there's no hint of his cocky grin anymore. In its stead, there's a pained grimace. An ugly twist of his usual scowl that you find you hate. You never want to see him look like this again. 

“I'm sorry.” You finally utter. “Not for doing what I did - I would do it again! - but for the way my actions made you feel.” Turning your hand up, you entwine your fingers with his, your hand much smaller against his. 

Kid lets out a deep sigh and as his chest deflates you notice he's still wearing blood-stained clothes. He must've been pacing in front of the infirmary door since you were brought in, just like the Doc said. “Scoot.” He tells you while getting up. 

“I can't.” You whine. “If I move, everything hurts. I was shot five times, Kid.”

“Five fucking times? Fucking Killer! He said it was only two shots! Fucker!” You stifle a chuckle and hold back your comment about how he could have easily spotted the five bullet holes in your shirt because you're pretty sure he was too busy trying to keep you alive to worry about counting bullet holes. 

He keeps cursing as he gets up, gently lifting you as he settles in the bed, curling you into his lap against his chest, making sure you're comfortable and not straining any wounds. 

You're pretty sure the Doc is going to bite Kid's head off if they see both of you in this position, even if he's the captain, but you feel so safe, comfortable and secure that you couldn't care less. 

“Kid, you can't forbid me to go out of the ship.” Your tone is almost pleading as you don't know for sure if he was being serious or not with his earlier threats. 

“I know, brat. Ya love to create chaos, don't ya?”

Turning your head slowly up, you bury your nose against his neck, your fingers digging into his shirt, bringing him closer. Inhaling deeply, you take in his scent. Sweat, sea salt, rust and metal. It brings as many tears to your eyes as it brings serenity and peace. Kid's your home. 

“You know I do.”

“But ya can't be jumping in front of bullets anymore. Or I'll strap ya to my back with those baby fabric things and ya have to be dangling on my back for the whole outing.”

The image brings tears to your eyes as you burst out laughing. Kid laughs with you, the sound of your laugh as sweet on his ears as his is on yours. 

“That's a deal, Cap. But you need to listen to me. And stop being a foolish daredevil! You're not invincible, Kid. Don't act like you are.”

He reaches down and plants a soft peck against your head. “Aye, aye. It's a deal, brat.”

The soft rise and fall of his chest make the perfect lullaby and the drugs the Doc gave you are the perfect concoction to bring sleep to your tired bones as your eyes start to close and flutter. 

“I'm glad you're alive, Kid.” You whisper, words slurred and dragged between sleepy breaths.

“I'm glad you're alive, brat. I wouldn't know how to live without you.”