#anything would be worth it as long as he kept them safe this time—

[dent-de-leon]

Cannot stop thinking about all the reasons why Kingsley would absolutely drop everything and go running to save Beau and his Magic Man if he knew what happened to him—

[xhyjin]

husband toji! who would try his best to spoil you, even when he’s struggling financially. you want a romantic getaway? don’t worry, because he’s already saving up, cutting corners wherever he can, just to see the joy on your face when he surprises you with the trip of your dreams.

husband toji! he isn’t the most romantic man, but he tries his best. when he notices the small smile on your face as you watch a man surprise his partner with flowers hidden behind his back, he makes a mental note. the next time he’s away on a mission that lasts too long, he shows up at your door with a slightly crumpled bouquet in hand, looking a little awkward but secretly proud when he sees your face light up.

husband toji! who loves when you fall asleep on him—not just because he enjoys running his fingers through your hair as you rest on his chest, but also because it’s the perfect opportunity to snap a picture of the two of you. with a smirk on his face in the photo, he sends it to shiu with the caption, “bet you don’t have a cutie laying on you right now.” it always earns him an immediate middle-finger reply from shiu, which only makes his grin wider.

husband toji! who never expected to find himself in this position again—so lovestruck and soft for you that it sometimes scares him. he’s torn between wanting to bare his soul to you and protect you from the weight of his past. he doesn’t know if he should tell you about his late wife and the son he left behind, afraid it might change the way you see him, but also yearning for you to understand the parts of him he’s kept hidden for so long.

husband toji! who knows it’s wrong, knows he should let you be independent, but he can’t help himself. when you think he’s at work, he’s actually following you from a distance, keeping an eye on you to make sure you’re safe. the guilt of shadowing you like a stalker eats at him, but the thought of failing to protect you is even worse. so, he watches quietly, torn between trusting the world and trusting only himself to keep you safe.

husband toji! who finds himself spending money on “useless” and “childish” things like cute plushies or clothes simply because they remind him of you. he’ll grumble about it under his breath, but the moment he sees your delighted smile when he gives them to you, he knows it’s worth every penny.

husband toji! who doesn’t prepare for missions by training or strategizing beforehand, but by taking a long shower using your body wash, your shampoo, your conditioner, and your lotion—anything that smells like you. he sprays your perfume all over his body and clothes, not caring if anyone (shiu) questions why he smells so feminine and sweet. the comforting scent of you clings to him like a shield, grounding him when he’s away and reminding him of the warmth waiting for him at home.

husband toji! who secretly adores when you ask for his help with the little things. need help putting on your necklace for date night? he’s already behind you, gently moving your hair aside, his fingers brushing your skin as he clasps it on, all while staring at you lovingly through the mirror. need help opening a jar? don’t worry—he’s leaning over you in an instant, taking the jar from your delicate hands and twisting it open with ease. before you can thank him, he dips a finger into the jam, tastes it, and smirks, “almost as sweet as you,” he whispers in your ear, walking away just as he catches the sight of your flustered reflection in the marble counter.

husband toji! who sometimes forgets the strength of his own body, so he’s always extra, extra gentle with you. whether it’s holding your hand, pulling you into a hug, or brushing a strand of hair from your face, he moves with deliberate care, afraid of even the slightest chance of hurting you. his touch, though strong, always feels like the softest embrace, as if he’s protecting something he treasures more than anything.

husband toji! who picks up your hobbies just to have more in common with you, even if they’re things he never imagined himself doing—like painting, baking, or knitting. at first, he fumbles awkwardly, grumbling about how “this isn’t his thing,” but before long, he finds himself enjoying it more than he expected. the real joy, though, comes from seeing your excitement as you share these moments together, making him realize he’d try anything if it meant spending more time with you.

husband toji! who, after a gut-wrenching moment during one of his missions, realizes he doesn’t want to do it anymore. he doesn’t want to risk his life when all he wants is to spend it with you. knowing it’ll be hard to convince shiu, he brings you along under the pretense that you’re just meeting his friend. as you take a seat beside him, your face glowing with excitement at finally meeting one of his friends, toji and shiu sit across and beside you, their expressions serious as they speak in coded phrases to keep you blissfully unaware of toji’s real job. toji glances at you, his heart softening at your smile, and silently vows to make his case to shiu—because you’re his reason to walk away from it all.

husband toji! who will gladly hold your purse without hesitation when it keeps slipping off your shoulder, or carry your heels in one hand while giving you his slippers to wear, walking barefoot himself without a second thought. he doesn’t care about the stares or the inconvenience—your comfort is all that matters to him, and he’d do anything to make sure you’re at ease.

husband toji! whose favorite hobby, out of all the ones he picked up from you, is coming home to find you asleep on his side of the bed, wearing his tee and boxers, clutching his pillow to your chest. he gently removes the pillow, replacing it with himself as he slides into bed, pulling you close. with his arms around you, he kisses your forehead and whispers softly in your ear how grateful he is for you and how deeply he loves you, even if you can only hear him in your dreams.

[loserlvrss]

.. 𝐍𝐎 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ( 이.𝐌𝐇 )

( 六月 ). ──one thing about your boyfriend, mark, is that he would always take care of you 이민형 &fem!rea. ⟡ one shot, fluff warn. ment. of being drunk, kiss wc : 1000THOU 노트 my bf btw

it’s a good thing the elevator in your apartment hadn’t gone out yet, otherwise the man on your arm would’ve been upset—though he’d never let you know that.

he just loved you too much for that. and you kept telling him about how much of a good night it was for you; he’d never dream of ruining that.

“baby,” he stated quietly, pulling your arm around his waist higher, as it kept slipping. “hold on, just a little longer… why’d you have to live on the 10th floor? thank god the elevator isn’t out. is the view really worth it though?” he watched the numbers climb, illuminated electronically above the door.

your eyebrows furrowed, and though you were hunched against him, you willed your head up. deadpanning, you replied. “duh.” to which he just laughed at. “you just don’t get it mark! have you seen it? it’s beautiful! not more than you, but you know.”

“many times—actually, i helped you move in, baby.”

you giggled, head falling into his side. “y-yeah, you did… do you remember haechan falling up the stairs? he wasn’t even carrying anything heavy! oh my god, it was so funny i swear i peed my pants!”

mark thought that, for a drunk girl, you were very good at not sounding slurred with your words. however, standing or walking in a straight line were two very different tasks for you to accomplish in this state. but he thought it was cute that you thought of him to pick you up and make sure you got home safely. he loved that you loved him so much; shared so many memories with him and were still willing to make more. and truthfully, he loved you more.

the elevator dinged, the voice telling you that the doors were now opening. mark braced his arm around you tighter, hiking you up to be, at least a little, straighter.

you trudged along, holding him back with his attempts to keep a steady pace. you knew it was difficult to move on your own accord in your current state but, honestly you could’ve just fallen asleep on the floor if you fell.

“work—with—me—here, y/n. please,” he gritted, practically dragging your giggling figure. “do you even want to sleep in your own bed?”

your eyes narrowed soberly. “are you staying?”

“will that make you walk faster?”

as if possessed, the thought alone was enough to make you straighten your back and begin willing your legs to move—clumsily, but you knew your boyfriend was still a crutch to make sure you didn’t hit the floor.

he laughed in disbelief, then relief once you two finally had made it to your numbered door; mark putting in the passcode and it chiming with satisfaction.

“you scare me sometimes, baby.”

you hopped in place, the door swinging open with the length of his arm. you slumped against the wall, unhooking the strap of your heels and kicking them off.

“let’s go to bed!” and when you were about take off down the hall, a hand grabbed yours and stopped you—your feet comically still stomping in place. your eyebrows furrowed, and you looked over your shoulder in confusion.

“first,” he started, leading you down the hall; for a moment you thought he just didn’t want you to run, but he turned off into your bathroom. he hit the switch and illuminated the room, your eyes shutting instinctively. “your makeup.”

you whined, trying to get out of his grip. “no.”

“you’ll kill me in the morning, babe,” he grabbed your waist, hoisting you onto the counter and trapping you with his body. “it won’t take long.”

your pinky swung from the porcelain and into his view, “promise.” you weren’t asking, and that made him laugh.

his pinky connected with yours. “promise.” he replied adamantly, mimicking your movement and kissing the end of his balled fist.

he got to work, grabbing the remover and a couple cotton rounds. he gently swiped your skin, and you swear your head kept drifting to the side with tiredness. you couldn’t help that your boyfriend was the sole reason you could get a good-nights sleep. instead of trying to keep you up, he grabbed it, huffing out another laugh at your antics, but letting you fully fall asleep in his hand.

mark admired you as he tried his best to get the mascara off, smudging it and making you look a little foolish. he thought you were cute; the way your lips were parted, small snores leaving them. the slight crease of your brows as he put your moisturizer and serums on. he swears he could feel his heart swell, knowing you were just that comfortable around him—so adamant to have him by your side—to have him love you.

and he did.

he loved you so fucking much. his future was you. if he was your world, you were his sun. you were his lifeline. you were the one person he knew he could rely on without contest. if he was a producer, you were his muse. everything revolved around you. even if his thoughts weren’t originally for you, they’d eventually make their way back to you. he was excited to talk to you about anything and everything. he was blindsided by a love as strong as this mutual one. he’d die for you, and that’s why he lives.

honestly, he was so embarrassingly emotional right now for you, he could feel the tears welling up.

he swallowed the lump in his throat, grabbing the other side of your head and watching as you blinked blearily.

you smiled sleepily. “when’d you get here, baby?”

he could feel your arms climb to be around his neck, pulling him and simultaneously pushing yourself to get body-to-body. you always craved the warmth (even without thinking) like you were cold-blooded.

“i’m always here.” he kissed the side of your mouth, whispering against your lips. “now, let’s go to bed?”

reblogs, likes and comments are greatly appreciated! thank u!

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[floweycidal]

i keep thinking about how flowey had to construct the very concept of cruelty from the ground up.

not from watching anyone else, not by osmosis, but by cobbling it together himself in the garden where he woke up. alone.

this was a child who fell asleep to his mother's stories, who knew every inflection of his father's laugh. who spent endless golden afternoons with his sibling, both of them doubled over with giggles as they filmed their silly videos, messing up on purpose just to hear each other laugh. again. and again. and again.

so warm. so safe. where the gravest offense imaginable was maybe tracking mud on the carpet.

the worst fear, disappointing people who would love you anyway.

where could he even begin?

save. say these words that once meant comfort, but twist them just so. watch their eyes dim as something inside them breaks. load.

save. make a promise—you remember those, how snug they once made you feel—then shatter it. document exactly how hope crumbles. load.

save. try another combination. another betrayal. watch what splinters differently this time. load.

the world's loneliest science experiment.

look at the cruelty he creates, it's all so personal, specific. so devastatingly asriel.

watch how often he comes back to the idea of being replaced. of being forgotten. how he taunts you with the possibility that none of your relationships matter, that everyone will move on without you. that none of your choices mean anything in the end.

your fault. your responsibility.

if only he you hadn't made anyone love him you. If only he you hadn't loved them back.

of course he'd fixate on all that. how could he not? his mother, who used to speak his name like it was sacred, those tender words she reserved for him—for THEM—are now handed out indiscriminately, like candy to anyone who asks.

all he can do is take note: see how easily love transfers? see how simple it is to fade away?

so, he sneers. taunts you with the thought that it's all dust. you're just another passing face in the crowd. nothing lasts. nothing is worth the weight of caring. but even as he pushes that narrative, as his voice drips with contempt, he is still out there. in the ruins. checking on her.

observing from a distance, like maybe if he watches long enough, his past will solidify into something he can hold again.

flowey develops his cruelty like he's trying to solve an equation. if this word plus this action equals pain, then surely there must be some formula that yields not caring anymore.

if he'd just gotten it right. if he'd just kept everyone at a distance. if he could just be flowey. save. load. the answer has to be here somewhere.

but how do you quantify the sting of hearing her say "my child" to someone else? how do you account for the absence left in the places where joy once thrived? how do you document, in clinical terms, why you keep watching over people you swear don't matter anymore?

you don't devote yourself to perfecting devastation unless you remember, with searing clarity, what it felt like to be whole.

you don't give so much of yourself mastering the art of ridiculing attachment unless you're terrified of how much you still have left to give.

unless every attempt to prove love meaningless just confirms how much meaning it still has for you.

...point IS! flowey did an interesting job creating his own idea of a bully. it's all pathological. so crudely stemmed from his own sorrows and fears. he's created his own textbook definition of meanness...but then every chapter's just him screaming in a mirror.

[running-with-kn1ves]

A/N: This came to me in some wackass half-dream haze and I felt so strongly about it that I spent way too much time on it :'0

Synopsis: Your annoying werewolf friend with benefits “accidentally” forgets to pull out one night.

CW: NSFW, Fem! Reader, friends with benefits turns yandere, yandere had previous FWB’s, baby-trapping, pregnant reader

Werewolf! Yandere X Fem Reader

“I'm so glad we can fuck like this,” Your, lack of a better word for it, fuckbuddy huffed in your ear. “No falling in love with me, not having to dote on you like an idiot of a boyfriend.”

You tried to block out his manic, cock-driven rants when you first started sleeping with him, how he was surprised you didn't pretend to bat your eyelashes and hold on desperately to his arm like a clingy lover after the first ‘session.’ so many other girls, other partners, other “sleepovers” he's had would get attached, annoyingly so in his opinion. 

A part of his hubris in creating unwanted lovers made you dislike him even further, even if he was good at making you claw at the bedsheets and beg for more of him inside you. 

How could he blame your fellow humans for falling for a beast so much larger, naturally protective and possessive while he was railing them? You were only safe from any kind of affections for him because of how irritating you found him as a neighbor in your apartment complex. Knocking things over with his giant tail, cussing in the middle of the night for breaking yet again another bed, or perhaps bedframe. 

Maybe if he didn't have such a sick fetish for humans like your kind, your frailty as a species and longing for such an obsessive protector, he wouldn't have so many admirers, and simultaneously so many nightly lovers. 

Despite his permissive behavior and attempts to disgust his fuck partners, they came crawling back hoping for more-- for a family and a life with a beast who no human man could match up to,in size, strength, or pleasure. 

but you were always welcome in his bed-- leaving before he tried to kick you out, taking your birth control immediately in a panic after, hardly making conversation in the halls-- it was a great give and take situation. You both satisfied each other, with no strings attached. 

He knew you were irritated by his teasing, by how he gloated in how much you loved his werewolf cock, how you probably couldn't wait to come back for more. You'd shove out of his way, annoyed and sick of his charades. And yet, like clockwork at midnight, you'd be at his door, or he'd be at yours-- and the rest would be history. 

That didn't make him any less insufferable while he was busy making you squeal, however. but it was worth it, the ecstasy you felt after and the seeming addictiveness his pheromones brought you. Your whole week was brightened, you were less irritable-- when you weren't around him, atleast-- and you felt fresher, more like yourself. 

It was hard not to come crawling back for that same euphoria again, even if it hurt your pride to do so. So you kept up a reluctant “friend's” with benefits relationship, Ignoring how he seemed to stop bringing anyone else over, blocking out how he tried to kiss you when you writhed beneath him. Even taking his time when he ate you out like a prisoner devouring his last meal. 

It felt far more…personal. Like you weren’t two strangers who had become accustomed to each other’s beds and ceilings. You didn’t even know what he did for work, what he ate for breakfast, or if he even had family. 

It meant hardly anything to you, knowing there was no chance for more seeing how guarded the werewolf was about relationships, no expectations extending for him to treat you to dinner or kiss you after making you cum. So why was it so physically exhausting when he became more gentle, less apathetic when he roughhoused with you on the bed as his form of foreplay? 

He actually let out a satisfied groan at witnessing the dips and flesh of your body now, smelling you from the sweat on your forehead to your knobby ankles. He grew quiet with animalistic intensity as the bulge in his sweatpants got damper, more constrained. 

What really hit the nail on the head for you was how your “sessions” got slower. He was savouring being inside of you, drawing out both of your orgasms instead of chasing it as roughly as physically possible-- like he had when he first laid eyes on your naked self. He dared to edge you at the cusp of an orgasm a few times, slowing and grinning at the burning in your eyes, your attempts to overpower him with no avail. You thought it was just some twisted game, another irritating part of his obsessive power grab that he’s been trying to wave over your head since you first met him. 

But no, he merely wanted that glare to be on him, to be eye to eye with you. No matter how many times you attempted to stare at the ceiling and prevent from falling into those hazel, speckled eyes, he kept his attention right at yours. He wouldn’t force you to look back, but he would never look away, like some kind of stalker you were letting on your bed and into your pants. 

You had tried to stay away, to ease your addiction of that pheromone-causing high that was making you more aroused and beautiful by the day-- but you caved. And that, was the moment you knew you had officially messed up. Hearing his jaggy, breathy, “You’re mine,” in the midst of his ruts was not as hot and heavy as most would perceive it as. It created a pit in your stomach, a feeling that never went away after he finished. You could only vaguely get up, taking your clothes and finding your way to the door. 

You avoided him indefinitely after that, ignoring the craving inside of you to be intimate with him, to know that he was near and ready to pounce on you. But after weeks of your fucking sessions coming to a strange halt, it was no surprise that the werewolf wouldn’t let you off easy.

“I slammed on your doorbell like 50 times last night. And you didn’t even say hi in the lobby, what the hell? Why’re you avoiding me?” He slammed his rickety green apartment door shut behind him without a forethought. “Listen, you made me drag you in here, okay? I wouldn’t have had to do this if you would just talk to me.”

You sigh, irritated and mind far too busy to deal with his mood swing.

“I wasn’t. I’ve just been busy. I don’t have time for, being here every night anymore.” You shrugged your coat off, trying to remind him you were still in control even if he was blocking your method of escape. 

“Oh, Is that it? Or have you found someone new instead to fuck you, someone else in this apartment building maybe?” He came up behind you, watching as you stared at the bed’s rustled sheets, white linen that you couldn’t tell had been washed or not. 

You let out an exasperated “ugh”. Of course his first thought was that you were busy fucking somebody else. 

But you weren’t given time to argue, to point out his hypocrisy. You were flipped on the bed, staring again at the blurry ceiling you’ve become so familiar with in his apartment. 

“No… You smell just the same, exactly as you should. Like me.” 

He pried your legs open to make room for straddling you, pushing his crotch directly below your jean’s zipper. 

“So what’s the problem? Why’re you so uptight, thinking you’re too good to come ‘round my place.”

He grabbed at your hips, your cotton shirt rolling up as he dug under it. And there, lied the problem. 

“Hey!” You shouted, trying to push his invasive hands off. 

“What--” Pulling down your shirt didn’t matter much, he had already seen it. 

“I was leaving you alone for a reason,” You gritted your teeth, sitting up on the bed. Both of you went quiet for a moment, his eyes wide, but not as bewildered in anger like you expected.  

You spoke quietly, trying to ease the tension. “I’m going to take care of it. I didn’t realize this would happen, I was doing everything right--”

“I can’t believe.. It actually worked.”

You looked at him, not with fear this time, but explosive fury. 

Now it was your turn to shout an unbridled “What!?”

“Well…” He rubbed the back of his neck, hair getting so long to the point it brushed against his short fingernails. “I can’t really remember! I just know something took over me, maybe it was the whiskey… but all I knew was, I needed to finish inside of you. I wanted to see you glowing and full, I couldn’t help myself with the idea keeping me going.” 

You were ready to release a full assault on him, eyes beginning to prick with tears of anger and absolute shock. 

“I wasn’t thinking, okay! It’s not like I’m particularly ready to handle a kid either. But.. I guess I wouldn’t mind a few pups; we’re not getting any younger. My mom’s been pestering me a lot lately actually…”

Your mouth sat agape, grabbing a fistful of sheets to prevent from hitting him, which would just end up hurting yourself. 

“I thought you weren’t interested in girlfriends or family or bullshit like that?! Mister, ‘I can’t be bothered with full-blown relationships’ wants to move along and ruin my life?!”

“Baby that was months ago, I haven’t seen anyone else in a long time; and y’know, that’s not normal for me. I think… you’re different. Something about ‘us’ is different. If it’s with you, I don’t mind the idea of seeing you carrying my children. It feels.. God it just sounds so sexy.” 

“ ‘Baby?!’ Okay, we are nothing to each other, I don’t even know where you work, where you’re from-- and all of a sudden you want to start a family together?”

The werewolf winced at your wrath, mildly annoyed at your loud tone and thrashing hands. 

“Is it so outrageous to believe that it’s a species difference? Werewolves have their mates, humans not so much. Is it crazy to believe we’re meant for each other, that I would kill for you? That you were SUPPOSED to be mine, and we only just now found each other?”

You were mind-boggled at the rush of information, not believing your eyes when you saw a near love-struck dog at your feet, the creature you once knew to be an irritating bachelor keen on fucking you ‘till your eyes rolled back, and that was it. 

The stress was getting to you, the fear for your future, the sudden “relationship” you had been thrown into with a man you knew nothing about besides the layout of his apartment and the ridges of his cock. 

“Hey, hey its okay. I promise its going to be alright. I’ll take such good care of you-- you’ll have nothing to worry about, I’ll be the perfect father for our pups; You’ll have a family, someone to take care of you, someone who loves you.” He stroked your head, watching as you furiously wiped away tears of anger and fear. “I’ve never felt that before… but I promise it’s not something I take lightly. I promise, you make my heart throb just as, if not more, than my cock. I promise.”

Was that supposed to be a compliment? Well, there’s not much else you can get from a fuckboy who’s main priority in life had been satiating his lust. 

You mumble something incoherent about needing to get back to your apartment, needing to get away from everything. But if the werewolf heard it, he didn’t acknowledge your desire to leave. 

“I know, I know it’s hard. I’m scared too. But I promise you’ll make the perfect mother. I can see it now, your pretty belly, your needs for me…we’ll be together, it’s new for the both of us. And, on the plus side, I can fuck you now without pulling out...”

You shuddered at the thought, hating the idea of how possessive he was seeming to grow, laying you down as he spooned you from behind, not daring to let go for a moment. Your jeans were clawed to scraps of denim as he tried to shimmy them down, no success other than tearing them into pieces. 

“Why don’t we try tonight? Make you feel good,” The werewolf was running himself between your inner thighs, pressing against your bare cunt before he whispered. “I know you’ve been wanting me too, all desperate without my touch, my scent. Let me take care of you, of us.”

[sleepyjuice]

protective jj protextiive jj protecitice jj ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

yup yup yup say no more ‼️

one thing about jj is that when he loved someone, he was also fully committed to protecting them at all costs. his circle was small, so when he cared about someone, he would do everything in his power to keep them safe.

but with you, he fully knew he would die before letting anything happen to you. and it sure was a task having a beautiful girlfriend, because to strangers eyes, you were just a pretty face and a pretty body, and that was just a blessing and a curse to jj.

keggers always brought out the creeps, and jj’s blood pressure was always just a bit high every time the two of you went. he would still enjoy himself, but he didn’t miss the way guys would stare at you, eyeing your body as if you were just anyones to have. you weren’t naive about it, you knew people stared, but as long as no one tried to touch you or talk to you, you didn’t let it bother you.

but of course, you didn’t live in a perfect world so trouble was bound to find you every now and then. you had a few drinks and you were feeling good. you had spent the day with jj and this was a great way to end the night together.

“yo jj, I can’t get this keg to tap, can you help me real quick?” john b approached you and jj, gently squeezing the blonde boy’s shoulder.

“yeah I got you,” jj answered, turning to you once he spoke, “c’mon, let’s go baby.” he nudged your waist, nodding towards the direction of where john b had ventured back off to.

you shook your head, “nah it’s okay, kie’s gonna be here any minute and I told her I would wait for her here. you go, I’ll be okay.” you assured him with a smile, not missing the hesitation clear on his face. he didn’t want to leave you alone, but he also didn’t want to make you feel like you couldn’t be independent and handle yourself alone for a minute.

he inhaled sharply before responding, “alright, alright, yeah. I’ll be right back.” he told you, giving you a quick kiss before going off to help john b. you took another sip from your cup, pulling out your phone to check if kiara had texted you.

“no way a pretty girl like you is here by herself.” a man’s voice startled you as you looked up from your phone, a touron, presumably had wasted no time invading your space as soon as you were alone, great.

“yeah, no, I’m not. but I’m not interested. so thanks but no thanks.” you told the man, looking back at your phone, hoping that for once, a man could have the ability to read the room.

“jesus, entitled aren’t you? can’t even let me say more than one sentence to you before being a bitch?” the man snapped, his ego obviously bruised. you did feel a little nervous now, uncomfortable with how quick his demeanor had shifted. instead of responding, you turned to walk away but were stopped when his hand grabbed your shoulder harshly, yanking you around to face him again.

he had opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted by a fist to his jaw, and you jumped back in surprise at the sudden violence unfolding before you. you weren’t shocked to see that it was jj who had punched him and you set your cup down as jj kept going at him, reaching from behind your boyfriend to grab onto the fabric of his tank top, trying to pull him off of the guy.

“you think you can just touch girls, bro? when her back is turned to you?” he spat, tensing when he felt someone touch his shirt, glancing back for a moment to see that it was you.

“jj stop, stop, it’s not worth it, please.” you pleaded with him to stop, grateful that he had stepped in to help, but it wasn’t worth him getting potentially hurt over or in trouble.

“you’re a fragile ass bitch, dude. fuckin- apologize to my girl and then fuck off. I’m so serious right now.” jj eventually stopped his punches, but kept a grip on the guys shirt as he forced him to face you. he was indeed a bitch, because he barely muttered out a little ‘I’m sorry’ before stumbling back and hurrying away from the two of you.

“jesus, I leave ya alone for not even two minutes and these douchebags think they can try some shit,” jj rubbed at his now bleeding knuckles before pulling you into his chest, his hands rubbing at your sides, “you okay, pretty girl? you’re not hurt are ya?” you shook your head in response, relaxing into his touch. you hated when he had to resort to violence, but you did understand it in this situation. you were just proud of him for not losing control this time.

“I’m okay, thank you for saving me. that was lowkey hot as fuck.”

(not me getting carried away ummmm oops thank you anon <3)

[cryptfile]

᪇ꫭ dreamseeker, [ qimir x jedi!reader ]

summary — it all started when you find out he’s alive.

warnings — pure angst, violence, blood, mentions of injuries and tons of tension, sfw.

side notes — 4k+ // English's not my first language so please be kind! went slightly away with this one so would catalogue it as an alternative universe. Heard liking without reblogging makes you fall in an awful curse that breaks my heart in the process so let that sink in, anyway everything it's appreciated!,,, thought about making an +18 second part? dunno,,, thks also for the 110 followers! love you guys sooooo much *heart avalanche*

The air's hot in the room when you woke up.

The sweat made the sheets stick to you body as you got out of bed for the third time that week, a terrible headache forming as you leave the dormitories in the middle of the dark. Coruscant suddenly feels unbearable. You've slept almost nothing through the course of the week, so you surely are in a bad mood when the cold wind of the night makes you shiver at the sudden change of temperature.

I'm searching for you. Even in my dreams.

The words are repeating in the back of you head, scratching a part of your brain while you keep on trying to remember who's voice you're dreaming so much lately.

It's all connected somehow, always is. You've learned to trust the force a while ago, learned that destiny's intertwined with an energy field that holds the galaxy together the hard way, so you know, deep down, that you have to trust your guts in this one, something that you know it concerns you but can't quite understand what really is in the first place.

Dreams. Dreams are a cruel thing that you tend to forgot sometimes, the reflection of the mind and soul projected like a high-class transmission in your head. Dreams talk, and they make you think about things you've let in the past, things you've certainly need to come back at some point.

That's why you can't sleep later, cause you know it means something. You know that dreaming the very same dream every single night for the past week means something more than just mere imagination playing around, far from an innocent scenario.

The temple is silent at night even when the city outside seems to be so wake in contrast of the inside, most of the lights out as you crossed the empty hallway hoping to avoid anyone, cause you know they'll ask questions you don't have an answer for.

In all truth, you don't have a clue why are you up so late, why this deep voice kept you awake when you should be deep in your sleep, dreaming about something more than superstitions. You don't have an answer to any superior, don't seem to have an answer for yourself either.

The Jedi trials ended long ago, yet, you don't think of yourself as someone as successful as Yord Fandar, your talent being far from what it should be expected. You never complain about anything and never would, they were the only family you ever knew and you refuse to lose everything you've been working so hard for just for questioning your bare existence.

"Can't sleep?" The male voice makes you stiff almost immediately, checking your surroundings to notice Master Sol approaching you from the left. The Jedi Master catches you by surprise, your hands already on the lightsaber that is hanging on your waist before you notice you're safe, even when you don't want to talk. "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

There are things that are worth hiding, but with Sol? Master Sol seems to see through it all, the worries and the dreams that you don't know if you should call nightmares, even when you try to lock them away for a minute. That's the main reason the man stares at you, cause you expel that smell of desperation, the tension in your muscles as you don't sleep in what seems are ages.

"What's troubling you?" He asks, your own eyes betraying you as they can't hold the weight of his gaze. "I know it's not my place to ask, but are you sleeping well lately?"

"Not really, but nothing to worry about" you say almost afraid that it's going to get you in trouble, the lack of sleep making you think the most stupid things as you stop in the middle of the hallway, making sure there's no one around more than Master Sol and yourself.

Not sleeping is a dangerous thing when reality tends to become a feverish version of itself.

I'm searching for you. Even in my dreams.

You're unsure of telling him what's really going on, unsure of trusting the people you've been close your whole life out of nowhere. A sudden sixth sense that commands you to keep the dreams to yourself, the sound of the male voice you've been listening like the most important secret you've ever hold account of.

It's almost embarrassing to admit you don't trust a Jedi above your rank, that your sixth sense all of sudden makes you keep the truth when it can be something important, when Master Sol has been like a friend to you after all those years of training.

Things have been weird since your Jedi Master was found recently murdered in Ueda, a heavy weight in your shoulders as it saddened you more than you even expected. Master Indara was like close family, and you find yourself missing her, mostly in moments like that when you wish you have someone to talk to

“I was going to the dormitories” Sol explains soon after, walking by your side. “I needed to ask you for a favor my dear friend, and I’m afraid I cannot wait much longer for you to heal.”

Heal. Are you ever allowed to heal? It’s been less than a couple of days since you found out about Indara, let alone the dreams that were tormenting you the rest of the week and suffer the loss, so it seems funny when Master Sol tells you he cannot wait much longer: No Jedi ever has time to heal.

“What can I do to help?”

It’s all it takes to leave Coruscant after, trapped in space in a small ship with not only Master Sol, but Yord and Sol’s younger padawan Jecki Lon, strange enough, also with Verosha Aniseya, a former Jedi you keep an eye on through time passed.

Suddenly you’re traveling through the galaxy and there’s no time for any more tears. Suddenly you need to toughen up and act like this Jedi Knight you’re supposed to be, even when you keep questioning yourself more than ever.

Maybe it’s because of Indara’s death. Her decease came so out of nowhere it shocked you to the very heart — It’s clear that you’re sensitive, dreaming stuff you’ve been getting tired of deciphering, pure nonsense, but then, the ship lands in Khofar and Sol it’s convincing you to stay inside even you’re perfectly capable of taking Verosha’s twin and his alleged master.

It’s your own mind that plays tricks on you, making you believe you’re not good enough to help. Truth is you felt your training as a padawan was not enough, you’re an easy target now that you’re hurt and it seems to make sense when all of sudden the group of Jedis leave you to fucking rot between white walls and buttons that sparkled.

It’s clear you’re affected. How can you not be affected by it? You’re overcome by sadness and anger both mixed together, and that feeling by itself is a dangerous one when in history, makes people question things too much to the point of no return.

So when you find yourself close to the light of the hologram that you turned on being so bored in the ship, your fingers dim between the white and blue rays as you wondered: Is it honorable to seek for revenge? Is it true to a Jedi to feel this gut-wrecking wrath?

You know the answer deep inside. You know it’s wrong, yet your feet think otherwise, cause when you leave the ship in the middle of the night you still debate yourself if you should disobey, if you should do what you want instead, walking through the woods like you know which way to go.

You never disobey any command, so it’s a new thing to openly doubt about the judgement of your superiors, to walk in an unknown planet despite the orders you were told. The path seems to light by itself as you can sense it in the air, the force conducting you in silence as you walked in a fast pace. You know deep down, know everything went wrong.

The blue light of your sable is enough to light the way, the humidity in the air makes you sweat as concentrated in the sounds of the nature, you run, run until your lungs are burning and your heartbeats are so fast you’re afraid the organ itself is going to jump out of your chest. You run even when the long leaves of the plants hit you in the face, when your legs are getting cramps and you can feel the lack of oxygen: The pain is not enough to stop you.

You can hear it from far away, the heat of the fight. The sounds of the physical effort, the buzzing of the lightsables against the silent night. Adrenaline creeps across your blood flow, and even when you can't breathe properly at all you run to the chaos, driven like a moth to the flame. You let the force conduct you as you close your eyes, jumping and elevating from the floor enough to hold the sable from over your head — You attack.

I'm searching for you. Even in my dreams.

It’s coming again, the rough sound of your dreams when your blue sable hits the red out of nowhere, force colliding against each other as the impact is enough to send you directly to the floor. You know who the enemy is, the surprise in Jecki’s face and the disapproval moments after

The stranger is fast and he doesn’t hesitate when he strikes, it’s fast enough to hurt in a mortal way and you became aware of it when Jecki’s falling to the ground and the acid in your mouth is enough to make you look away — The anger comes moments after, the red stains blurring your vision as you let out a scream, gathering the force to dodge his deadly attack.

It’s for Indara, the young padawan, and the Jedi’s he just slayed like they were nothing: It stings in your soul yet you stop holding back, stop holding yourself to finally hit harder, to strike faster than he does, to hurt the stranger as much as he hurted you. And he responds, but not fast enough to beat you, cause you let the metallic back of your sable hit his head when he’s kneeled on the floor, and you smile to yourself cause you have no damn mercy when his helmet finally cracks and it’s enough to break apart revealing his face.

It’s all it takes then. All it takes to froze you in that very spot, holding the sable over your head, ready to end his life with no second thought.

You know that face. You know it when suddenly he’s smiling at you.

I'm searching for you. Even in my dreams.

It makes sense soon after, lowering the sable to the floor without fully believing it, a ghost in front of you as you feel the air leaving your lungs. Drinking the sight of him like he’s not real, like it’s a sick joke your mind made to break you down, to make you weaker.

You’re pulled by a sudden force, by the force. However, falling to the floor hurts way less than seeing him again, the words stuck in your throat unable to speak. It’s imminent, it’s devastating when the pain catches you by surprise, your back aching against the rough surface.

He’s going to kill you, isn’t he?

It makes sense to die by his hand. The memories you two share, the intimacy that was taken away so sudden, it only makes sense to die by the one you loved before, even if it's a surprise you'll never recover from.

The heat of his red lightsaber against your neck is not enough to scare you, but enough to finally look at his face, to encounter his eyes and reveal the truth that was hidden all along between lies. You experience the intensity of his gaze, how it softens when realizing you're looking at him with that same look you have been doing it years ago.

"You're alive" it slips away from you before even noticing, the sound of your voice wrapping him in a haze he didn't expect at first, to be so devastated by you even after all the time resenting the Jedi's and everything they represented "Qimir you're alive..."

He knows you're shocked, the sound of your voice piercing in his ears as he threatened with the weapon against your neck, any sudden movement would slice you in the second — "Hello to you too."

He's real, when he speaks out loud you know he's real, he's standing in front you erasing all the theories you made about not sleeping enough now making you delusional, he's there, standing ready to kill and take what he wants to feel like he won.

It's a personal vendetta, you know it as you expect any answer, any word at all until Sol's screaming as he's taken away from you once again.

He's not a friend, he's not the Qimir you once knew, and he's not someone you can trust again as he was ready to kill. He's not was he used to be, and you can tell by the way he moves, the way he goes against Master Sol hoping to leave the Jedi in the floor, his anger when he refers to his acolyte as a traitor.

He's the one responsible for Indara's death indirectly. He's not a lover. He's not a friend.

You think he died years ago, never really understanding what really happened to the bright man you met in Coruscant, a secret no one dared to bring up. He has the same fucking smile you know too well, the one that make you crumble completely in the sight, and it sadden you, it saddens you he take that path when you seem to woke up from whatever has you nailed to the floor and finally run to help Sol.

You believe you're in the right side, you've been taught about the light and the dark, and you put your heart out filling your mouth saying how you're doing good, how you're making things right.

It's kill or get killed. It’s clear that Qimir does not seem to care about any connection you shared before, hurting you no longer means whatever it meant before, and as the sable burnt your tight, no one cares when you're fainting in the floor, abandoning the fight when it approaches his end.

Sol's mad, but it's not enough to make the master stop to check if you're alive. So many lives were lost in Khofar, and the fight was so demanding you're soon forgot in a planet when the sun is finally rising.

You know you've always been alone, know the last time you saw your family you were too young to even remember, so it's not a surprise when you're left behind. Jedi's come and go, that's why they keep training them generation after generation — It's expected to lose some percentage in missions.

What's not expected, it's when Qimir is close to your cold body later in the early morning. Still deep induced in the fever of pain when he's betrayed by his own heart, his old feelings resurfacing even when he made sure to bury them in a hole in the back of his head.

He's weak it seems. And he should be ashamed of himself when he's the one carrying you back to his ship when everyone has left you behind.

I'm searching for you. Even in my dreams.

Is that his voice? The rough sound that makes you wake up in a uncomfortable place with clothing you don't remember owning.

You're confused for a second before realizing you're in unknown place, a cold breeze shivering your skin: You're in someone's house, using someone's bed.

It's all it takes to make you stand up, leaving the warm sheets behind as your eyes scan the place looking for both a person or a way out. There's a saucepan in the fire cooking slowly, and a smell you can't describe at first.

You move carefully, theories in your mind about what happened that seemed so imposible. You're sure you're far from Coruscant where you should be, yet, you don't feel much danger when you discover you're left alone in what it seems to be a cave, one that lets a windy current enter through a slit between the rocks.

You're unsupervised: Does that mean you're not a prisoner?

You remember fainting in the cold surface of Khofar, the humidity in the air as the air leaves your lungs before entering a state of unconsciousness. You remember Qimir as a ghost in front of you, smiling like he's young again, trying to get to your room in the middle of the night as if it wasn't forbidden.

Was that your dream about? A warning about the stranger being alive?

You don't dare to drink the water, you don't dare to touch any belonging more than the necessary when inspecting. Its more of a hiding than a home itself, so it lacks of belongings as you can't find anything else more than your clothes, protecting yourself from the cold air.

You're not treated as a prisoner, yet you don't feel any safe at all due to the recent events that seemed to say otherwise. You cannot seem to find your sable, and the silence it's making you lose patience.

The cave is a mess soon after, you're searching for your most important weapon, so now the lack of it seems to make you nervous. You search until you're no longer alone, a new presence in the cave as you adopt a pose of defense.

"Where's my sable?" you ask to what it seems the air, acting all tough before noticing who's the person that dragged you to a different planet, the responsable of healing your wounds with a unexpected speed. You know who it is from before, the change in the cave when he's around even when you don't receive any answer back "I'm talking to you, Qimir."

He doesn't talk when he's tossing it over the things he brought from outside, the orange details in the heavy metal shining against the dim lights of the cave. He knows you are not leaving without it, that you're too attached to it for your bad luck.

"Where am I?" you ask soon enough. At this point you lack of patience out of all, you're tired and your body is sore, you're still dreaming that very same thing, and you're not resting enough to keep your mind sane, so it's not a surprise when you're demanding answers, after all, you wanted to know what happened back in Khofar.

It hits you how much you miss him now that he is in front of you in full silence, not in the middle of violence like before, how much you wanted to hug him until he no longer breathes and spat something stupid as a not-very-funny joke. You miss him after all those years of believing he's death, that he disappeared out of sudden without telling nobody, not even you.

The silence makes you mad, and the stranger knows it, sense it in the force when the anger hits you, filling the air of the cave that feels small even when the spaces are big enough. He lied. That's all you can think of, he lied and never bothered to tell you he's alive after suffering his departing so whole heartedly.

Nights without sleeping as you let the insomnia carry you to a state you can't leave, overflowed by feeling you've learnt to deal with in the pass of time. Time heals it all they say, but it just makes things more bearable, help you live with it.

But now. Now it was cruel, it's a wound that opened by itself with the things you saw, the person he was now, embracing his dark side like it was something worth celebrating.

"Talk to me," you say, and you don't know why you're the one asking for answers when you shouldn't. "This is not fucking fair."

Fair.

"Nothing's ever fair," he says, and the sound of his voice is enough to make you shiver. Now that you're surrounded only by the crashing sound of the waves hitting the rocks outside, you can hear him without the buzz of the fight. "Your people know that very well. You make the rules after all. You decide what's fair in the galaxy."

It's a knife in your heart. You don't want him to affect you like he does, but it's impossible when it stings like a burnt from the sable, the weight of his words, the hatred on his tone when he spits the words like they're acid in his tongue.

"I've never made nothing" it's a declaration of self-hatred at it most, how you've not been capable of doing much even when you pride on being called a Jedi Knight. "You know that."

There's no response. You're used to follow orders, not question, trust you're working with the correct side, so his look is something new, something that leaves goosebumps on your skin.

"You're alive," you still don't believe it at first, now studying his factions like they were still craved in stone back on your head. "After all these years, you couldn't tell me you were alive?"

It's a bad joke, one that makes you laugh leaving a bittersweet taste in your mouth — "You couldn't tell your best friend you were leaving? Nobody talked about you all of sudden, you became a dream. Almost making me sure you never existed at all."

"That's what they told you? That I leaved?" the way he's telling the information makes you furrow your brows in response, trying to make sense of what he was saying: Was he implying they lied to you?

"Please, explain me then" you're not in the mood of fighting, instead, you want information, crucial information to what you were choosing to be "Enlighten me. Tell me why you left me there without saying goodbye. Why it doesn't seem to affect you as much as it affected me."

The stranger has grown cold. He has now adapted beneath this rough amour that separated him from what he was before. So he doesn't give you any answers even when you question him, looking at you without saying a word.

You've changed too. You're not the little padawan that followed Indara around and look up at Torbin, you're not afraid of showing your force anymore, after all those years he has told you you're more than capable of defeating any enemy, you are starting to believe it more that ever. Even when he's not around to see that change happen in front of his eyes.

He's not going to answer, he's not talking nor giving you what you needed.

"Am I prisoner?" you ask again, another question added to the pile.

"Does it look like you're being held?" he asks back, squatting close to the stove in the fire to the stir his soup. "No. You're not my prisoner."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. He always was a man full of pride, but now it seemed he thrive in it, in sharing his knowledge he was sure it was so powerful he needed to take a pupil, some kind of dark padawan he wanted to train.

"I don't know you anymore Qimir," you state out loud, hoping to talk to him as a long-time friend, as the person he was in love all those years but never acted on it too afraid of the rules at first. "I don't know who you've become, and i've been mourning you like it's only yesterday you vanished from my life, yet you've been alive, plotting against your family."

"Family?" he asks, hurted by the words you choose. "I've never had a family. You know that very well, it was always me against them, against anyone who questioned their power, their use and knowledge of the force."

"So is that how we are going to act now? Like pride is enough to make you leave and act like we were never a thing? That I wouldn’t die for you without even question?" you seem disappointed as you speak — “Why you didn’t kill me back there when you had the chance?”

He's taken back by your words, the sincerity as you admit what it seemed impossible to say back then. It’s known by him the feelings he had for you were enough to stop the whole galaxy, but he never had the courage to say something about it, to go against the rules and let alone admit to you anything at all.

So to know that you care for him, even when you talked about it like it was in the past, is enough to make him short-circuit, to make his face change in a new look.

“You already know why I didn’t kill you” he says it so casually while cooking, that even when you stand in the middle of the room trying to think about anything, anything more that him and his powerful gravity that made you spin around him, drawn by his pulling force — “Doesn’t matter who you stand with, i’d never do anything to you.”

You let that sink in. You let him say it cause maybe, deep down, it’s what you need. Your eyes are full of tears but you don’t want to let any single tear roll from your eyes the second you feel the sadness, you don’t want to show any weakness whatsoever, anything that will make you look less than what you really are.

“I could ask you the same” he says soon after, looking at you from over his shoulder in a low voice that sends shivers down your spine “Why did you let me live back there?”

It’s a bruise in your ego, to your sense of defense — Walls up, not letting any feeling show at all. His question is left out in the space as you look at him through narrowed eyes, reminding yourself he’s the enemy.

He cannot have the satisfaction. He’s the one behind Verosha’s twin sister after all, the one who send her to seek her own revenge. You know you should kill him with no second though, to cease with the leak, destroy the rebel cause that was so dark and powerful, so dangerous, but as before, you can’t hurt him by any chance, too attached to the enemy to even think about using the force against him.

Qimir. You don’t expect him to be alive, to be so angry at his lies. You don’t expect him to be the threat to peace and tranquility you’ve been so warned about.

Fuck that. You can’t deal with him again.

Maybe you are a coward after all, not worthy of being called a Jedi Knight. Always too unsure, questioning if you’re doing things the right way.

It’s not your fight. It’s not your place to be, you’re not his prisoner so you reach your lightsaber quick enough to leave his side, holding the weapon against your bare hands as you leave the cave, facing the daylight and the ocean in front of you.

You're not his prisoner, so you quickly leave as soon as you can leave, unable to hold his gaze anymore, to answer a question you shouldn't be asked. Even if it's cold outside, the sun still shines and you are sure you're going to find a ship that will take you out of there, as far as possible — Maybe, even leave him there.

But when you walk, you're followed close by in silence. Not a prisoner, but not free enough to leave free whiningly.

Even when you pace fasten enough to try to leave him behind, it seems like it's not a physical effort to follow you near by, to follow the same footsteps you give in order to look for a way to get out.

What's his plan anyway? Follow you forever? He's going to get tired soon enough, the problem is you don't have the patience enough to wait for it, you can't wait for Qimir to be enlightened by mercy, to be rational, to let you leave so you can be as far away from him as possible.

So at any sudden sound, you happen to snap, to turn on the sable in one swift movement, quick enough to pull it against his neck, almost touching his skin, the blue light reflecting in his pupils as he seemed pleased by your attention.

That's what he wants in the end. Even if it's anger, he wants to get any reaction out for him.

"Stop following me around" it's a knot on your throat, a sting in the heart as you threat him, the sound of your voice almost mixing with the loud crashing of the ocean. "You said yourself, i'm no prisoner."

He can sense your anger yet he's devastated by what you've become, devastated by finally being in front of you. Even when you're hesitating to spare his life once again, he's driven by the smell he was so caught on before, the memories you brought, attacked by the lonely life he was forced to live, the perks he enjoyed embracing his dark side.

It seems like forever, an eternity while the energy just flows, while the tension consume you both.

You're caught in a spiderweb you cannot get out, cause when he opens his mouth to speak again, you don't expect to make your world tremble that way.

"I was searching for you."

You know what's coming next, the sound of his voice like a recorder playing over and over in your head, the vibrations of his tone matching the ones you've been dreaming about lately.

"I was searching for you. Even in my dreams."

It's enough to make you lower your sable.

To make the stranger smile.

my masterlist

[cherry-pop-elf]

Kiss it Better Pt:3

Curly x Reader

AN: I am just speechless. All this support is making me tear up. Like holy shit. Thank you. Don’t worry! When this finishes(god idk how it will I’m making up as I go since yall want more chapters) I’ll make sure to post it to AO3 for easier access! Just thank you again! And uh. Don’t forget I have a Kofi and Wishlist if you wanna like tip or something. NO PRESSURE! Just a reminder to anyone who WANTS and CAN! You come first! Just. Thank you again!

SUM: You couldn’t sleep, so you try and remember things with Curly to lull you to sleep. As you do, you remember things that are important for a captain to have. Very important, and you are gonna be certain to find them

Warnings: Jimmy, sexual assault, mentions of abortion (it’s a rather calm chapter really. Take it as a pallet cleanser because the next chapter imma really show you how fucked up Jimmy is))

You just couldn’t sleep. It felt criminal to right now. So much was going through your head. So much has happened and now you had time to let it all soak in. The crash, Anya, why there was a crash, Curly’s condition, it made sleep impossible. Especially alone in that big bed that was meant for you and your husband.

You tried to take in deep breaths, and just let the thoughts wash over you. There was responsibility as the Captains Spouse. You weren’t just ‘eye candy’ like Jimmy said. You had worth, and were just as much important to the team as everyone else.

Such as learning a thing or two about what Captain should do in case of an emergency.

Curly was in no state to help, and Jimmy sure as fuck won’t help either. He was the reason everyone crashed after all. He’s a loose cannon and you needed to tip toe around him. Who knows what he might do next. You weren’t even sure if telling Swansea and Daisuke about what’s going on was smart.

Swansea has little girls of his own after all. He won’t react well at all. Then there’s Daisuke. Barely nineteen and thrown into this mess. He might panic or maybe even do something crazy like confront Jimmy. There was just to many what ifs.

So you were left on your own.

You would wrap yourself up in what was once Curly’s sleep robe and grab his spare ID card. The very thing that can unlock any door, and be the one thing that can lock your bedroom door. Definitely should have Anya sleep in here for a while. She deserves to be able to sleep soundly.

While you were waiting for everyone to sleep as well you would explore the bedroom. Looking into nook and cranny to see if there was anything of use. The Captains always were given a bunch of extra shit after all. Even Pony Express had to meet some safety protocols. Curly was their best after all. Even went as far as to try and help him fine work else where. That’s what he explained to you.

Shame. Was just a normal bedroom. The only thing that made it special was it was bigger, and had a lock. Dammit all to hell.

That’s when you tried to think back on past memories of you and your husband. To try and recall any kind of special thing the ships carry. Oh how you felt so guilty for never paying enough attention. Made you feel stupid and useless, but you weren’t.

At least not in comparison to Jimmy.

With a deep breath, you managed to recall something. Something not long before the crash even. You had knocked on the cockpit door to enter it, and was greeted to your husband and Jimmy working. Curly was rambling on about something, while Jimmy kept eyeing the locker suspiciously. As if he wanted to get inside of it for some reason.

That’s your best lead now. God dammit was it a shitty one. The cockpit was stuffed to the brim with foam. But then again that’s the front of the cockpit. If you were careful, and cut the right spot, maybe you can access the locker.

It’s something. Something is better than nothing.

With the robe tossed aside, a change into your jump suit, gloves slipped on, and beanie pulled on to keep your head safe you would make your way to the kitchen. Card key tucked securely inside of your jumpsuit compared to a pocket.

Jimmy can’t know.

Can’t know that you were stealing the only knife that the ship had.

Was going to be a pain in the ass to cut that foam but you really had nothing better to do. So, you unlocked the cock pit and focused on remembering its layout.

“For Anya, for Curly, for Swansea, for Daisuke, and all our families back home.”

You would start the slow and agonizing cutting. Little by little. Just chopping away to try and reach the right side of the pit. To get to that locker and see what was inside. That locker was in the cockpit for a reason. It can only be accessed by the pilots for a reason. There was a reason.

Any time you felt like your arms would give out you thought back to Curly. How he didn’t really have arms anymore to begin with. How Anya was busy throwing up right now. How they needed you. They both needed you.

It had been well over a hour, but you managed to reach the locker. You allowed yourself a breather at the sight of it. Damn was that a pain, but it’ll be worth it. Right?

With your breather over you would use the key card to access the locker. Inside was….Honestly junk. That had you very disappointed. You were honestly ready to cry out of frustration, only to see there were a few locked cabinets inside.

Ones that needed codes.

Codes you knew.

Curly made you memorize them in case of an emergency. He just said to memorize them. That it’s meant to just unlock pin pads. That Pony Express never bothered to change them.

You went to the lower locker and typed it in.

Strange, there was nothing inside. Suppose whatever was inside was taken out. You wondered what could have been in there. Was a very small locker so maybe it was some code scanner or universal unlocking device. Just wasn’t big enough for something you hoped for.

A transmitter.

He prayed it was near the front of the ship. That a transmitter would stuck in the heart of the foam, or as far as just shatter on contact. They had to have a spare communicator. Pony Express had to follow SOME rules after all. Imagine the ship being discovered and the people who found it saw it was missing something as important as that.

So you typed in the code for the larger locker. You were kinda afraid of opening it. To be met with another empty void of metal and dust.

You took a deep breath, and opened.

There really was a god.

There was what you were looking for. A real deal communicator. It was real, it looked untouched and even had dust on it to show that Jimmy never reached it.

Before you grabbed it you made sure to close the door behind you. Just to be sure. Was the dead of night, well from what the clocks say, and everyone should be asleep. Even Jimmy had to sleep. You had to make you move now.

Remain calm, and focus.

You can’t fuck this up.

You snuggled yourself into the corner of the pit, with the communication device in your lap. You hooked the head phones onto your head, and turned it on.

As you waited for it to boot up you made sure you were positioned so that if anyone came through the door, for some reason, you’ll notice. As far as anyone was aware though this room was basically a wall. No purpose to enter. You should be safe, but you had to think ahead. Jimmy was unpredictable, and so full of himself.

Better to be over prepared than see what happens if Jimmy finds out what you are doing.

Couldn’t help but give a squeak of surprise when someone finally spoke to you.

“This is the Emergency Spaceship Retrieval Sector. What seems to be the problem?”

A woman, through the static, spoke to you. Tears of relief fell down your face but you forced yourself to remain focused. You can’t mess this up now. No way no how.

“This is Tulpar for Pony Express. We have suffered a crash about a month ago. From what I can recall we had been a little over four months into our twelve month journey-“ You immediately explained, as to best help them get an estimation on how far the ship had traveled.

“Alright, who may I be speaking to at this moment?”

Deep breaths.

“I am the Spouse to Captain Curly. It is me, Jimmy the co-pilot, Anya the nurse, Swansea the mechanic, and Daisuke our intern.” Deep breaths, keep things quick and to the point.

“Are you all in any immediate danger?”

You had to think about that a moment. Jimmy is a dangerous man. Who knows what he might do next if you don’t play along. So, you had to be honest. You felt guilty for telling the operator what happened. That Curly suffered greatly and needed immediate medical attention, how Anya was a victim of assault and required an abortion as soon as possible, and that the reason for it all was because of Jimmy. He crashed the ship, he raped Anya, he destroyed Curly, and god knows what he will do next.

“Estimated arrival time will be about a month. We have your exact location thanks to the communicator. Remain calm, and know that help is on the way. We have logged this down in the report. Take care of your crew the best you can, Captain.”

And she would log off. You would let your head thump back, and simply cried. Cried in pure relief and joy. That a real person heard you, and was aware of what’s going on. That if anything did go wrong that at least someone knows. Someone will know what happened.

There was hope.

Now was a matter of survival.

One month.

You all needed to survive one month.

One Month Until Rescue…

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@dinkyzoop @danart501 @spudfromspace @niyamamiya

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

hey will you make hsc reader x tmnt 2012 (all of trurtles) in which the reader proposes sexual intercourse or starts to gently initiate, e.g. gently kissing on the neck, how the boys react, do they agree or prefer to wait (you don't have to describe the sex with them if you don't want to, what matters most to me is their reaction, and I would prefer the age to be kept the same as in the series)

Their Reaction To You Wanting Intimacy (18+)

2012!Turtles x reader

A/N: For the sake of my moral conscience, I will have to write that they are aged them up. What you decide to imagine is up to you, but I don’t feel safe writing stuff like this without aging them up. But with that being said, I hope you’ll still enjoy💚

All characters are aged up.

Warnings: Implied sex, mentioning of being caught.

Leonardo:

With Leo, it really depends on the situation at hand. Are they two of you in the dojo, out in the living area, hanging out around friends and family, or doing something important, he would be very apprehensive. Panic in his eyes, unsure of what to do.

That did not mean he didn’t want to have fun with you, nono, it’s because he’s scared of breaking the rules. Fearful of getting caught, or maybe screwing up something that he had the responsibility for.

But did that mean that you didn’t try? Hell no! You would try to push him ever so slightly, seeing if you could get the fearless leader to do something he normally never would.

Not that it was hard for you to make him give in. You have managed to cause a heated make out between the two of you in the dojo, resulting in some dry humping on a mat, before the two of you had a long good night in Leo’s bedroom.

And oh, the joy of sending him risky texts when he would be out on patrol was amazing. His flustered reactions over the phone or text made it all worth it.

But, you and Leo were in the private comfort of either your or his room, Leo would give in to your touch with no fluster and no wide eyes. Heck, he would even start the intimate actions before you could.

If Leo were comfortable, he could easily get freaky. If he felt sure that no one would interrupt you, he would be absolutely okay with fooling around on the couch or somewhere far out in nature.

Pretty much anything would work on Leo - physical touch, certain words or that look that let him know what you were thinking. All of those things did something to him, and any of those could do the trick.

Raphael:

Be careful when you try to initiate intimacy with this guy, because he will not let anything slide. You want to have some fun? He’s ready! Doesn’t matter when or where, he will find a way or a place where the two of you can have your fun.

Raph is very good at picking up on your hints, when it comes to these sorts of things. That little look you would give him, or the way you would sway your hips ever so slightly when you walked past by him. He notices it each and every time, and he will be quick to follow you.

Your hot headed boyfriend isn’t too bothered about who is around. If it stood to him, he would not let you walk to the bedroom, he would be quick to pull you back against him and have you wherever you were, not giving a damn about who was around. And well, though it sounded hot, you both knew that none of his or your family members would be too happy about that, so you kept your activities away from their eyes.

But other than that, there wasn’t much that would hold Raph back. Kiss his neck and he will have you pinned against the wall so he can go on your neck. Touch his thigh and he will spread them wider for you, and it would usually lead into one giving the other head.

If you decided to do these kinds of things in the living area, with no one else in the room, there would be a big chance that you and Raph would get your stuff going in the living area. That was how the two of you ended up having sex in a back alley and on a few roof tops.

If you decide to tease this man, get ready, because he won’t let that go. Raph loved a good brat to break, and he loves when you decide to go into brat mood on him.

So yeah, if you want intimacy with Raph, he is quick to give it to you.

Donatello:

As smart as Donnie is, he tends to be a little bit thick when it comes to reading your signs, especially those of a more intimate and sexual nature. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want sex, because oh bot, does this man like sex. He’s just a little slow to register what it is that you are asking for. It’s especially bad if his working on something.

You could be hugging him from behind while he was hunched over one of his many projects, rubbing your hands up and down his chest, and he still wouldn’t realize what you were doing.

Kiss his neck in this situation, and he will still not realize how slow he is. He might just be thinking that you’re trying to be sweet - like you always are - showing him some innocent love while his working.

But when one of the hands on his chest starts moving lower and lower, getting closer and closer to his cloaca, Donnie seemed to realize what was going on, which usually would result in him turning towards you with a smug smile. He could most definitely help you out with your little wish.

It wasn’t uncommon for you and Donnie then to have sex in the garage lab, while no one was around, to hear the many sounds the two of you would make.

But should it be during the day time, you and Donnie would most likely move it to the bedroom, or just somewhere more private. Donnie wasn’t too scared of people knowing that the two of you were having sex, nor that you intended to do so. But Donnie was not too happy about the thought of anybody walking in while he was cloaca deep in you. That would make him lose his mojo and make him feel very embarrassed.

Actually, at times he would even brag to his brothers about it, reminding them that he was the one that had sex on almost a daily basis.

Michelangelo:

Mikey is a funny case. His reactions would vary, depending on the time of day, his mood or whether or not he was expecting it.

If Mikey was in a hyper mood, really hooked on this one thing, he wouldn’t notice anything. Be as flirty as you want to, he wouldn’t notice or think about anything unless you straight up tell him you want him to fuck you stupid.

Should you find you and Mikey in such a situation, where you had just whispered to him, how badly you want him to fuck you into this bean bag, while his family was out the lair, he might turn to you in shock and confusion. Not because he didn’t want to do it, because he will. He was just in processing mode. Did his hyperfixation just turn you on? If that’s the case, he would show you this stuff more often.

Should Mikey be bored, and you suddenly start sliding your hands all over him, he would be on you in no time. No processing needed. He is ready right now!

The danger is ro send Mikey risky texts when he’s bored. Send him a nude and he will be outside your window less than five minutes later, so keep your clothes off.

Now, if you sit with Mikey in the living area, watching a movie and his brothers happen to be nearby, watch out when you start to make moves on your boyfriend. Because if you don’t tell him where you want the two of you to get busy, he would at times forget that there are people around, and get ready to get hands on right then and there. And well, it has happened that you forgot as well. That was kind of embarrassing to be caught on the couch with your boyfriend, tongues down each other's throats, hands already roaming. You never forgot that, but Mikey seemed to have totally let it go.

[crystallizedtwilight]

Lock is super cute n all but Barrel is all that AND a bag of beans (a.k.a. he's really nice)... kind of feels like barrel deserves better sometimes ....(this isn't said in bad faith to you, the artist, btw! I'm only shaking the angst jar a bit)

Lock thinks so too.

Of course Barrel has better options. Belladonna or, hell, just about anyone.

Lock thinks that maybe Barrel would find it easier to wake up next to someone who doesn’t accidentally scratch him with their claws during a nightmare, maybe someone of his own species, or someone who is generally more…pleasant and effortless.

A partner who was soft and nice instead of sharp and difficult.

So Lock puts the distance between them before someone else does. He hates it, surrendering the best thing that ever happened to him, but after wasting so much of his time, doesn't he at least owe Barrel this? The chance to be happier with someone better?

He turns distant, cold, avoidant. Enough for Barrel to ask, "Hey, what's wrong?" And Lock realizes that, truly, he must be the most selfish creature in the world for not just saying I'm fine.

Lock wanders so dangerously close to speaking his heart that he panics, turning to run like he always did when he came close to acknowledging why. But Barrel catches him around the waist, voice soft and desperate, as he says more to himself than to Lock,

"I've let you run too many times."

Lock flails and sobs and sinks his teeth into the forearm that binds him across the chest.

"You can bite me if you want, but you’re going to listen to what I have to say," Barrel tells him low and steady, "I would rather wake up next to you with scratches than unscathed next to anyone else.” 

"Why?" Lock sobs, asking the question furiously, frustrated. It just didn't make sense. He wasn't worth it and he wished Barrel would just tell him what he already knew.

But when Barrel speaks his voice is so desperate, so fiercely certain, that Lock is inclined to listen.

“Because there’s no one like you, Lock. You’re fun...and spirited...and always up for a laugh. You’re open to anything which makes every day with you an adventure. You’re one of two people in this world who’s been through hell and back with me and yet you still approach life with so much enthusiasm.

I know you kept me safe from the worst of Oogie, and you kept this trio together like it was your mission. Every good thing I have is because of you. You’re bright and exciting and when I’m with you I feel like I’m home. Every day I wake up feeling so lucky you even let me hold you.

And I…I didn’t say it for so long because I know you didn’t want to hear it, but fuck that…I love you. I’ve always loved you. It’s always been you, Lock.”

Lock sobs into Barrel's forearm and Barrel presses his forehead to the back of Lock's neck, letting him. The grip becomes an embrace, and Lock is weak in his arms. He lets his weight drop and Barrel lowers them to the ground. When Barrel speaks again, the tears have caught up with him as well.

"So don't you dare tell me you're not good enough."

[the-traveling-poet]

Levi x fem!reader, period comfort ? 🙏🏼

Slow Down

Your line of duty had always been and would continue to be stressful on a good day; you’d accepted this the moment you graduated training. Between the piling responsibilities assigned to your rank and the many comrades you’d befriended over the years, you were certainly kept on your feet. But on days like today, when your body ached and your mind raced, the work was nearly too much to handle alone. Thankfully this time, you wouldn’t have to be.

Pairing: Levi x AFAB!reader (addressed as y/n, so feel free to chose for yourself how you’d like to view reader!)

Warnings: Descriptions of menstrual cycle, disassociation, sensory overload, mental stress/anxiety, comfort fluff.

A/N: I have an old fic done on this here, but since I was experiencing a 2 week early cycle myself when I received this ask and wanted to die, and by the time I finished this ask I had another early cycle and currently wanna die, I’ll happily do another one! If anything doesn’t match your preferences, I’ll happily re-write to better fit your ideas! Also I apologize for the very very long wait! I hope you’re still around to see it finished! Also to make up for this, this is a 1.5k word count fic lol.

Everything was a disaster. One thing after another prevented you from merely sitting, from processing the reality of the day thus far and depriving you a moment's sanctuary from the ache settles deep within the muscles of your poor lower back.

A favor here, a chore there; documents to sign, errands to be run, a squad to manage and train, voices of many a scout far too loud for your liking echoing off the walls and muddling your racing mind, preventing comprehension to a single thought you had...It was nearly too much to bear, on such a day as this.

There was a fine line between being a people pleaser unnecessarily, and simply being helpful towards others you held dear or at least within respectable regard to complete what needed done around HQ on such a busy day; and you walked that line very finely indeed today.

How could you say no to Hange's pleas for a favor to run into town on their behalf when they looked frazzled amidst their own responsibilities?

And how could you go against an order from Commander Erwin himself to sort through the armful of cadet's profiles he had on his desk before the night was up, to help lessen his own load?

Of course you'd help them, on top of your already assigned duties, all at the expense of any free time you'd needed to rest a moment...It was fine, was it not?

So here you were, one arm clutching leather bound booklets to your chest, a bag in the other hand hanging limply in your grasp, a pen long forgotten tucked behind your ear discarded there for safe keeping after signing off for deliveries, and a single boot nearly fully untied dragging the floor for each hurried step you took down hall after hall. You were a mess, you had to have known. But still you kept on.

Though all the while your back ached, and your abdomen tensed in immense protest every few minuets you dared forget about your distresses. Every step you took only vividly reminded you of your need to go change, to clean up and try again with a ‘'fresh' start if you will. But you knew these tasks at hand were more important than your personal comfort. But was it worth your waning sanity?

For every delivery of parchment or perhaps a document form, passing from one shaking hand to another, left you more exhausted than the hand off previous. Every step demanded a rest, yet ever you mind protested such an idea. How could your mind not? But you mustn't falter now, despite the aches it brought upon you, less you deem yourself a 'failure' of sorts. And above all else, you couldn't have that, could you?

That thought echoed the loudest in your mind, nearly as overbearing as the sights and sounds around you shortening your breath. Surely you were over exaggerating to yourself. The pains could be ignored, and the glazed look to your eyes wasn't noticeable to anyone glancing your way. If you told yourself that enough times, you'd eventually believe it to be true and not think of it anymore, right? You weren't failing simple tasks by needing a break if you never took one.

"Y/N!" A familiar voice called out, only worsening the way your skin seemed to itch and your lungs seemed to constrict for every noise that added itself to the fray of chaos that was your mind.

Halting in your tracks, you let the man catch up to you in the hall.

"There you are, we'd been looking for you!" He panted, leaning an arm against the wall.

"We?" You murmured back wearily.

"A couple of the Captains and I, yes...Anyways, we needed one of the documents before you handed it off to Commander. It needs another signature we miscounted for before handing it off to you." He explained with a shrug.

Shifting through the leather bound books and documents in your arms, you felt ready to collapse. Didn't you have enough going on?

"It's here somewhere just...One moment...It's been a day..."

"Oh, and Section Commander Hange needs those items from town soon. I ran into them a moment ago and they asked-"

"I'll get there, I promise, I just need a moment.” You cut him off, breathing abnormally heavily through flashes of pain and fatigue. Though such a simple ask, you felt this might just be your undoing.

He looked surprised for a moment, opening his mouth as if to add on another mind numbing task. But his look of surprise couldn’t match yours when a door behind you opened and a hand reached out to clasp onto your slouched shoulder.

Biting back a yelp, you turned to face the culprit right as he spoke.

“She’s had enough for now. Take what you need for Shitty-Glasses and Eyebrows; Y/N’s busy with me now.”

Stunned, the man saluted to Captain Levi and gently took the file he had been looking for and the bag from your arms, soon enough scurrying off.

Feeling a bit dazed yourself, you felt Levi’s hand on your shoulder lightly tug you into the direction of his office.

“I-I’m so sorry, sir. I got so caught up in responsibilities- I didn’t mean to make a commotion outside your door-“ You started, only to be met with his door closing softly behind you and a pale hand raised for silence.

"I can assure you, whatever it is you're rambling on about, it's fine." Levi grumbled, moving to lean on the lip of his desk with folded arms across his chest.

"You're a mess...Just how long do you plan to keep up the look of vague shit smell on your face?"

"Dunno...Till I feel better?" You sighed and set what was left in your arms onto a cleared surface nearby to let your arms relax.

Backing up a step from the desk, Levi narrowed his gaze

"You contagious?"

"Not sick," You huffed in defeat. But before you could begin to explain, he was off again.

"What, irritable bowel syndrome then? You're hunched over like you’re in pain."

Though at first you raised a brow inquisitively, you eventually found yourself snickering quietly, a hand coming up instinctively to your abdomen as the movement caused some sharp aches and pains. Leave it to Levi to resort to shit jokes.

"...No, just tired...hurting a little….Menstrual cycle, exhaustion, got overwhelmed…It’s fine.”

Levi merely grunted in absentminded response as he meandered back over to his desk. But he watched you in a way that made you question; had you miffed him? Distracted him from whatever work he’d been chipping away at?

The anxiety on top of it all only made your chest constrict further.

“I'm confused; what did you pull me in here for? Did you need something?"

Looking back up to meet your gaze, Levi raised a curious brow.

"No, I don't need anything. Though if anything, I needed you to quit worrying. It won't increase the quantity or quality of your tasks." He grumbled, looking over your disheveled appearance.

“And you need to slow down. Take a break, sit down…Can’t imagine what pain you’re in, but no one can go on forever like this.”

Stunned, you merely stood there staring for a moment watching him, in which time he sighed and gestured over to a small couch in his office.

"Sit. Get those belts off. I've heard caffeine can sometimes help with...cramps, and stuff. I'll brew some tea if you get off your damned feet."

Slowly you sat onto the couch in the corner of his office, wincing slightly in pain as you adjusted to a better position to lessen the aches in your abdomen.

“Why? Why are you…Why do you care about getting me tea and making me rest?”

You found yourself mumbling, unable to keep the thoughts bouncing through your head from slipping out. Levi was silent as he stood from his desk, setting down his pen and loosening the collar of his shirt.

You thought maybe he might just leave without a response; reapers through the office door with a couple cups of tea just as silently as he’d left. But he hesitated in putting his palm on the door’s handle, glancing over his shoulder at where you’d curled yourself up and attempted to slip off your boots.

“If you won’t take care of yourself, then someone has to. I’d rather that be me, if it’s all the same to you.”

Before long you found yourself with a blanket over your lap and a steaming mug of tea in your hands, feeling much more yourself without the anxieties and stresses pulling you this way and that. Levi had abandoned his work for a time, choosing to sit on the other side of the couch with his own teacup in hand.

‘To keep an eye on you in case you pass out.’ He’d stated when you inquired. Though with how easily he chatted with you during that time of rest, you couldn’t help but feel as though maybe he’d wanted an excuse to sit and talk over tea. Maybe the ghost of a smile on his face meant he enjoyed your company, as much as you enjoyed his.

[mercillery]

Hello! Could you do anything yandere shanks x female reader, but can you make it in a headcanon. Where shanks first meet the reader, how he got obsessed (was it "love at first sight") how he woos the reader, how he expressed his emotions, etc. But can you make it where that shank crew is obsessed with the reader, too? (Not romantically) more like a little sister/older brothers obsession. And they make sure no one gets the readers heart but shanks. But the reader later finds out about this and confront them about it and reveal that this was her (secret kink) but always kept it to herself because she knows it's not healthy, etc. How would they react? And could you do it in nsfw and sfw headcanon

WARNINGS: FEMALE READER + NOT PROOFREAD

NOTES: Super duper sorry anon, but I don’t write nsfw. I still hope this is to your liking!

I imagine that Shanks first encounters you in a bustling port town, the kind where everything smells like saltwater and adventure—or maybe just fried fish, but we’ll go with adventure. You’re busy—maybe working a stall, laughing with friends, or simply taking in the sights with this serene, unbothered expression. You stand out to him, not like a thunderbolt of “love at first sight” exactly, but more like a nagging feeling that something just clicked. It’s like spotting a rare treasure—he doesn’t fully understand why he’s drawn to you, but he knows it’s significant. It’s like finding a piece of his favorite puzzle that he didn’t even know was missing.

At first, it’s just mild curiosity. You’ve caught his attention, and now he’s finding every excuse to watch you—casually, of course. He’s not a weirdo... not yet, anyway. It’s all innocent in the beginning, but as time goes on, that curiosity becomes a full-blown obsession. He finds himself studying the way you smile, the way you tilt your head when you’re thinking, and even the way you roll your eyes when someone says something ridiculous. It’s all too fascinating. You’re like his own personal TV show—except the plot thickens with every episode. And oh boy, he’s hooked.

And that’s when the possessiveness kicks in. Shanks starts convincing himself that everything you do—every gesture, every laugh—is somehow meant for him. It’s a classic pirate’s mindset: when you spot treasure, you claim it. But Shanks, ever the suave captain, decides that this treasure is worth the wait. He’s not about to rush in and scare you off, oh no. This isn’t some quick plunder; this is a long game. He’s willing to be patient, biding his time, and winning you over little by little. You might think he’s just being friendly or charismatic—after all, he’s got that charm down to an art—but every move he makes is a carefully calculated step closer to you. Creepy when you think about it, right? Unless you’re into it

Naturally, Shanks’ crew gets involved—how could they not? They’re a tight-knit bunch, practically a family, and if something or rather, someone is important to Shanks, they’re all on high alert. They catch on to the way their captain looks at you—it’s not the usual playful grin or the casual glance he gives most people. No, it’s a look that says, “I’ve found something I want to keep.” This man is intense and obsessed, and they can see it. So, being the loyal crewmates they are, they decide it’s their job—no, their duty—to help their captain out. Not that they think he needs the help (since he’s Shanks and all), but hey, why not give him an edge?

The crew quickly adopts the idea of you as their captain’s treasure—precious and worth protecting. And just like that, you’re part of the family, whether you know it or not. They take on the role of overly protective brothers (whether they’re older or younger doesn’t matter—they’ve all got that big sibling energy anyway). They make it their mission to watch over you, making sure you’re safe wherever you go. But they’re not just watching from the shadows—no, they’re playing the long game, just like their captain is.

They know Shanks has enough charm to fill the Grand Line, so their strategy is different: they’re trying to get you to seek him out more. They’ve got complete faith in their captain’s charm; it’s just you who needs a little nudge in the right direction. They drop hints like, “Oh, you know, Captain Shanks would love to see you at the tavern later,” or “Wow, I bet the captain would be thrilled if you asked him about that.” Subtle, right?

As time goes on, they don’t just see you as their captain’s potential love interest—they genuinely start to see you as part of their crew. And in their eyes, that makes you family. Now, when someone’s happiness is tied to their captain’s happiness, they’re all in. They become more invested in making sure you’re content, safe, and most importantly, staying right where they want you.

It’s all fun and games until you realize anyone getting too close to you except for Shanks is a problem. See, they want you to be a permanent part of their crew. Anyone who even thinks about getting too friendly with you instantly becomes enemy number one. Sure, they’ll try to avoid violence—at first. But if they see you getting swayed by someone else, they’re not afraid to roll up their sleeves and get a little more, let’s say, hands-on with the problem. Ruthless? Maybe. Necessary? In their eyes, absolutely.

This is where their “sibling” dynamic really comes into play. The way they see it, no one’s good enough for their soon-to-be sister-in-law that’s you, by the way except Shanks. They discourage any potential suitors by casually looming nearby, giving cold stares, or “accidentally” interrupting conversations just as things start to get cozy. They’re there to make sure you stay unattached and grow more comfortable with Shanks and the crew. They gradually start making it clear that the only acceptable outcome is you being with their captain, and anyone else is just wasting their time.

And if you happen to be inexperienced in romance? Perfect! They’re thrilled. They take it as an opportunity to coach you, guiding you with all the expertise that only a bunch of rowdy pirates can offer. They’ll give you tips some (good, some questionable) and make sure you know exactly how to charm their captain back.

Basically, any love life you had or might have wanted outside of Shanks is out the window. As long as this crew is around, you’re not finding any other suitors—no chance, no way. They’ll make sure the only person you ever have eyes for is Shanks. And if you were single before they met you, even better—they’ve got a blank slate to work with. Maybe Yasopp or Benn pat you on the back and say, “Well, lucky for you, our captain’s the best option you’ll ever have.”

Shanks has this effortless charm about him that’s practically impossible to resist. With his laid-back nature and easygoing smile, he knows exactly how to draw you in. From the very start, he’s friendly and approachable, making it feel like you’ve known him for years. He knows how to make you feel at ease—he cracks jokes, buys you drinks, and regales you with wild stories from his adventures at sea. It’s hard not to feel comfortable around him when he’s so open and genuine, always acting like you’re old friends—or maybe something more. And you? You start to think he��s just a normal guy—albeit a pirate, but a friendly one. The truth? His charm of his isn’t just natural—there’s a strategy behind it.

See, Shanks is playing a long game here. Beneath the friendly smile and the easy banter is a guy who’s putting in work. He’s paying attention to everything—your likes, your hobbies, and even the tiniest details. He notices what makes your eyes light up, the foods you prefer, the places you love to visit, and even the little things that make you cringe. Every time he interacts with you, it’s as if he’s reading straight from the playbook on “How to Win Your Heart.” You think it’s just a coincidence that he always knows the right thing to say or do to make you feel special, but nope—that’s just Shanks doing his homework.

And it’s not just Shanks who’s in on it; his crew is right there, playing their part like it’s a well-rehearsed performance. They hype him up constantly, making sure you know just how amazing their captain is. They’ll tell you stories—always the ones where Shanks is the hero, the brave and selfless leader, or the guy who goes out of his way to help others. Of course, they know better than to lay it on too thick, but the message is clear: Shanks isn’t just some ordinary pirate; he’s a guy worth betting your heart on. They’ll casually mention his loyalty, his bravery, and his kindness, painting a picture of the ideal man—like, really, who wouldn’t want a guy like him? They frame it all so perfectly that you start to wonder if Shanks is exactly the kind of person you’ve been waiting for. But little do you know, he’s been waiting for you!

It doesn’t stop at words, either; the crew’s got action plans. They’ll orchestrate these “coincidental” moments where Shanks can swoop in like some dashing hero. Maybe your bag “accidentally” slips off the dock, and there’s Shanks, quick as lightning, retrieving it with that grin of his. Or perhaps you’re having a rough day, and suddenly Shanks appears with your favorite snack in hand, ready to lift your spirits. It’s like clockwork—every opportunity they get, they’re making sure Shanks is there, saving the day or making things just a little bit easier for you. It’s a collective effort, all geared towards making you see Shanks as the only option, the one who’s been right there all along, just waiting for you to realize it.

When it comes to expressing his emotions, Shanks plays it smooth—real smooth. He’s affectionate, sure, but there’s always that tiny hint of possessiveness lingering underneath, like a shadow just out of sight. He’s subtle, though; he knows how to keep it from being obvious. He showers you with attention, and not in an overwhelming way, but just enough so you always know he’s thinking about you. It could be a small gift from his travels—a trinket from a far-off island or a flower he swears is the rarest he’s ever seen. Or maybe it’s the little notes he leaves behind, simple but sweet, like a casual reminder that he’s never too far from your thoughts. He’s always there when you need someone, even if you don’t realize you need him. Shanks makes it pretty much impossible for you to forget about him.

And when others approach you, Shanks? Oh, he keeps his cool—like, really cool. He’s got that carefree smile and that laid-back attitude down to a science. Sure, he wants you all to himself, but part of his plan is patience. He’s not about to lose his composure over some random individual trying to chat you up—no, no, he’s got the long game in mind. However, if someone starts getting a little too close for comfort, that’s when you’ll see him act. And trust me, when he does, it’s like a magician pulling off a trick. Maybe that person suddenly finds himself on the wrong side of a brawl with some random pirates, or they just “decide” to leave the island without a trace. Weird, right? Almost like they vanished into thin air. Shanks knows how to make things happen while keeping his hands clean—or at least appearing to.

Eventually, you start putting the pieces together. You can’t ignore the patterns—people who show interest in you either mysteriously vanish or suddenly avoid you like you’ve got some kind of pirate plague. And then there’s Shanks, who always seems to know everything happening in your life, almost like he’s got some sixth sense. Oh, and his crew? They just so happen to be wherever you are, ready to step in like overprotective siblings. It’s all a bit too convenient, so you decide to confront them about it.

Shanks doesn’t even try to deny it. In fact, he leans right into it, giving you the whole “I’m doing this for your safety; the world’s a dangerous place” spiel. You know, playing the classic protector card. And, of course, his crew’s right behind him, backing him up like they’re all in on this script. They swear they’re only looking out for you, doing what any good “family” would do. They make it seem like it’s their sacred duty to keep you safe from any harm—or in this case, any potential love interests who aren’t Shanks.

But when you drop the bomb and reveal that this was exactly what you secretly wanted—a possessive, obsessive kind of love—the reaction is priceless. Shanks’ face goes from a small hint of concern to this look of pure satisfaction. It’s like you’ve just handed him the keys to the treasure chest he’s been searching for lifetimes. He’s definitely caught off guard for a second, but it’s the kind of surprise he’s thrilled about.

The crew’s reaction is just as entertaining. They look relieved and almost proud, like they’ve just gotten the ultimate validation. To them, it’s a sign that everything they’ve done—all the lurking and scheming—was the right move. You wanted this all along, so in their eyes, they’re basically heroes. Now that you’ve spilled the beans, they become way more open about their protectiveness, doubling down on their roles as your “brothers.” It’s like your confession flipped a switch for them, giving them free rein to crank up the possessiveness without feeling an ounce of guilt. If they ever felt guilty to begin with, that is.

From that moment on, they’re even bolder with their interference. They don’t bother hiding their efforts to scare off anyone who dares to get too close. In fact, they make sure you know that your place is with them—more importantly, with Shanks. He’s over the moon, acting like he’s won the ultimate prize. Knowing that you’re receptive to his obsession only fuels his determination to keep you all to himself. Now that you’ve given him the green light, there’s no turning back; his possessiveness has leveled up, and his crew is all-in, making sure the world knows you’re their captain’s treasure.

With everything out in the open, the dynamic between you, Shanks, and his crew hits a new level of intensity. It’s like a silent contract has been signed: you’re theirs. Shanks cranks up the affection, pulling you even deeper into his orbit. He’s always around—whether it’s with charming smiles, playful touches, or just happening to be there when you need a shoulder to lean on. And his crew? Oh, they double down on their big brother act, making sure you’re never alone for a single second.

The crew practically builds an invisible barrier around you, creating a fortress of brotherly protection that no one can breach. Some poor soul tries to talk to you? Expect one of the guys to appear out of nowhere, putting an arm around your shoulder and shooting a “friendly” grin that’s a little too sharp. You’re basically the most popular sibling in the overprotective pirate family now, and anyone who even thinks about getting close might as well just wave the white flag and walk away.

They’ve turned “you belong with us” into their full-time job. If you ever wander off, it’s only a matter of minutes before one of them pops up with an “Oh, there you are! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” They act like it’s all in good fun, but there’s no mistaking that underlying message: they’re keeping tabs, and they’re not letting you slip away.

And you can’t help but feel the effect. They make you the center of their universe, their obsession, and honestly? It’s kind of intoxicating. Sure, there’s a part of you that knows it’s all a bit much—maybe even borderline unhealthy—but when you’re surrounded by that kind of attention, it’s hard not to get swept up in it. And that’s exactly how they want it. You’re part of their “family” now, and they’ll do whatever it takes to keep you right where you are.

Shanks, of course, is the ringleader of it all. He’s basking in the fact that you’ve accepted his possessiveness—no, welcomed it. He knows it’s only a matter of time before you’re fully his, heart, body, and soul. And the crew? They’re just as invested in this little storybook ending—because, in their eyes, you’re not just their captain’s treasure; you’re their treasure too.

[in-my-feels-probably]

Hi there, hope you're doing well. I would love to request a fic where the reader is Sirius' wife who reunites with him after he escapes from Azkaban, takes care of him e.g. feeding him and grooming him, and helping him get better. Cheers!

Right Where You Left Me

Request: I would love to request a fic where the reader is Sirius' wife who reunites with him after he escapes from Azkaban, takes care of him e.g. feeding him and grooming him, and helping him get better.

Hi! I’m so sorry for the wait, it took me forever to get to this request, and even longer to finish it. I’ve been in a bit of a slump, but I feel better. I love this request, thank you so much for sending it in! I hope you enjoy it :)

(Warnings: swearing, mentions of azkaban and sirius’s treatment there, mentions of death, vague mention of nudity, let me know if i missed anything)

—

When you received the Patronus from Remus telling you Sirius had escaped from Azkaban, it brought you to your knees. 

You thought about him every day. But you could only ever picture him in the days before he was arrested. It hurt too much to think about him rotting away in prison. But hearing that he got out? That he was out in the world and could be anywhere by now? The fact that he was suddenly much closer to you than you thought he would ever be again?

It terrified you.

You married Sirius right after school ended and the war was beginning to pick up. He proposed on a whim, telling you that the rest of your days weren’t guaranteed, and he didn’t want to live through another day without you tied to him. You would have always been by his side, but this was tying more than just your lives together—it was your souls. When Harry was born, you were named his godparents. All was well for a while. Calm, even. Of course, the calm didn’t last. 

It wasn’t long after your marriage before that night in Godric’s Hollow came, and Sirius was taken away from you. 

But it wasn’t just Sirius. 

It was James, Lily, and Peter—even Mary. Marlene was in the weeks before, and Dorcas too. They were ripped away from you, far before you were ready to let them go. Remus was the only one who you kept in touch with after that night. You clung to each other in the weeks after, seeming to be the only people in the world the other could find solace in. But as the years passed, your visits and letters became few and far in between. 

Then—after all that time—another Patronus came. 

Sirius had come to Hogwarts, and he’d proved his innocence to those who mattered. It was Peter who had betrayed everyone, and he was still alive. 

And, while Sirius had you and Remus on his side, he was still considered a fugitive. The Aurors were after him, and he needed to be kept some place safe where they wouldn’t come looking. Luckily for you, the flat you bought was outside of Wizarding London. Sirius had always loved the feeling of places untouched by magic, so after you married, you moved in together in a quiet area on the outskirts of London. It was his idea to use magic to ward it so that people looking for you would have a hard time, and after so long away from the Wizarding community, not many people would think it was worth it or even remember to come looking for Sirius in hiding with you.

After twelve years of solitude, you couldn’t fathom the idea of your husband coming back to you. You couldn’t fathom the idea of him being part of your day to day life again. All you could do to keep yourself together was tidy up and prepare for Sirius’s arrival.

You couldn’t believe it when Remus finally brought him home to you. 

Your boy—who was a man now, or at least the shell of one—was sitting right in your living room. The only home he had ever known outside of Grimmauld Place or Hogwarts, and he couldn’t have looked more out of place. 

Neither of you spoke when Remus eased him down onto the couch, before coming to your side. You’d always pictured that by some miracle if Sirius ever came home to you, you’d rush into his arms and he’d hold you like no time had passed. You spent years missing his touch, wishing you could hug him just one more time. But now he was right in front of you, and you had no idea how to act. You didn’t know if he even wanted you to touch him. You couldn’t take your eyes off Sirius, eyes wide as you looked him over. 

Time had not been kind to him. 

You could see the man you once knew bleeding through, but so much of this version of him was unknown to you. Sirius kept his eyes on the floor, but would occasionally glance up at you. You knew he was seeing a stranger, too.

“I have to go back,” Remus whispered, turning your attention to him. “They’ll know what’s happened back at Hogwarts if I don’t leave soon, and too many people know what’s happened already. I’m sorry. I’ll come back as soon as I can, yeah?”

You could hardly hear him, but you quickly nodded, giving him a squeeze. “Be careful, Remus. I’ll take care of him while you’re gone.”

“I know you will,” he murmured, squeezing you tight.

He let you go, kneeling down next to Sirius who was watching you both with a look full of anxiety. Remus placed a hand on Sirius’s shoulder, his touch light and gentle.

“I have to go, alright? But you’re safe here. I promise. It’s just Y/N.”

Just Y/N, Sirius thought. He just nodded, a conflicted look on his face. Remus stood up, giving you one last look of sympathy, before walking out the door. He left a deafening silence in his wake.

It took you forever to get your feet to move. But when you did, you were falling. You landed on your knees just in front of Sirius, peering up at him through teary eyes. You could see him take a breath, stilling as you got closer.

“Can I touch you?” You asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Sirius swallowed hard. He gave you an almost imperceptible nod, and you gently reached your hand up, your fingertips hovering over his face. Taking a breath, you cradled his cheek in your palm. You could feel the stubble along his jaw, and the sharpness off his cheek. His skin was cool, far from the usual flush you remembered from all those years ago.

“You’re really here,” you murmured, your voice catching in your throat. “Oh, love. You’re so beautiful.”

Your words pulled a pained whimper from Sirius’s chest. He nestled his face into your hand, a few stray tears pooling in your palm. You were quick to wipe them away, leaning in close. He tilted his head down, resting his forehead against yours. He took a deep breath, taking you in.

“I pictured your face every day, and I still think I’ll never get tired of looking at you. How could I? You’re right here in front of me, as beautiful as the day I lost you. But you’ve always been the pretty one in this relationship, haven’t you?”

You let out a watery laugh, shaking your head. “In my dreams. But it’s good to see your sense of humor is still intact.”

The next few moments were quiet, nothing but the sound of sniffles and shaky breaths reaching your ears. 

Finally, Sirius forced himself to look around. He’d braced himself from the moment he walked in to see all that had changed since he left. He’d expected you to move on and live your life without him, and he’d expected the flat to reflect that. It was honestly more of a shock to him when Remus told him you still lived there than anything else. But as he looked around and took everything in, he realized how wrong he had been. 

“You haven’t changed a thing,” he said, looking at the art on the walls you’d picked out together when you first moved in.

You glanced around as well. You wanted to tell him how you didn’t have the heart to change anything. And although seeing him in everything around you felt like you were being stabbed, you just couldn’t get rid of anything. Getting rid of it would mean getting rid of all you had left of him.

And you would have rather been stabbed a thousand times than do that.

You shook your head, pointing to the spare room. “Actually, Remus lived here for a while. He pretty much flipped that whole room. Said something about you having too expensive a taste for him to have to endure for extended periods of time.”

“Merlin, I bet it looks like grunge threw up in there,” he mused, making you smile and nod.

You stood up, offering him your hands. “Are you hungry? We need to get you fed and cleaned up, love.”

Sirius looked down to the robes he was wearing. They were tattered—resembling rags stitched together more than they were resembling clothes. His hair was greasy and matted to his head, and his face and body was caked in dirt. He had almost forgotten just how dirty he was, a flush spreading across his cheeks as he gave you an embarrassed look. 

“It’s alright, darling,” you said softly, taking his hands in yours. “We’ll take it at your pace. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

Reluctantly, Sirius nodded. You smiled, gently leading him up off the sofa and into the kitchen.

—

It took ages to find him something to eat. 

You nearly keeled over when he told you that pretty much the only thing he had been given to eat for the past twelve years was bread and water. It was what he’d grown accustomed to eating, and he wasn’t sure he could stomach anything else. You had to choke back tears when you finally suggested soup—one of the first things he learned to make on his own without magic. It took a while, but he managed to get most of it down. 

You made small talk while he ate, telling him little things he’d missed while he was gone. You left out the most painful details. You could tell him about those later.

Finally, he couldn’t stall anymore. 

He let you take him by the hand and lead him to the bathroom, his eyes on the floor as you shut the door behind him.

“Shower or bath?” You asked, turning the water on to let it heat up. “A bath might be easier. You look tired, and I don’t want you falling over or something.”

Sirius just nodded, and you assumed he was alright with you choosing for him. You let the tub fill up, making sure the water wasn’t too hot before you turned the faucet off. You turned back around, frowning when you saw Sirius looking back at you with anxious eyes.

“It’s ready,” you said softly, stepping out of the way.

Sirius watched you for a moment, fidgeting back and forth on his heels. Just as you opened your mouth to speak again, he beat you to it.

“Can you turn around?” He asked, lowering his eyes to the floor. “I don’t mind if you stay, but could you…could you maybe turn around for this part?”

You quickly nodded, stepping towards the door. “Of course! I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask if you wanted me in here—”

He was quick to speak, his voice shaky. “I do! But this is just a little weird, you know?”

You nodded, backing up to the doorway and turning to face it. You could feel the heat creep up to your cheeks as you heard his clothes hit the floor, followed by the sound of him climbing into the tub. You had seen Sirius naked a thousand times before. He was never ashamed of his body, he never shied away, and you had seen plenty of him in your years of knowing him. This version of him made your chest tighten, and all you could do was stand there and hope he wasn’t feeling the emotions you were. You waited another moment before talking over your shoulder.

“Do you need anything, love? I’ll wait outside if you want me to. Unless you want me here. I’m happy to do whatever you want, it’s up to you.”

Sirius cleared his throat. “Uh…could you maybe help me? My hair is matted and I don’t think I can fix it on my own.”

There was probably a spell you could have used—some sort of detangling charm to help get the mats out. But Sirius had gotten used to not being able to use magic, and you didn’t feel like using it either. The truth was, you preferred it this way.

It was an excuse to get close to him again and spend time with him.

It was an excuse to take care of him.

You nodded, turning around to grab your brush. You kept your eyes on his as you sat down on the edge of the tub, trying your best not to let your eyes wander. You set your brush on your knees, reaching for a cup off the ledge of the tub to dip down into the water and fill up.

“Tilt your head back for me, love,” you directed, smoothing your hand over his hairline as he tipped back far enough for you to pour the water over his hair.

You repeated the process a few more times before setting the cup down and grabbing the conditioner. You smoothed it through his hair, gently tugging at the knots with your fingers before you grabbed your brush. It was silent while you worked, making slow but steady progress. Eventually, Sirius shifted, and the water sloshed just over the side of the tub.

“Sorry,” he muttered, looking over his shoulder with guilty eyes to see if he splashed you.

“Don’t be,” you replied quickly, smoothing a comforting hand across his shoulder before moving back up to his hair. “Are you alright? Getting cold?”

Sirius opened his mouth to speak, before deciding against it and closing it. He just shook his head, growing silent once more. You knew there was something he wasn’t saying, and you didn’t want to push him. But you hadn’t made much progress with his hair, and you didn’t fancy sitting in silence for the rest of the evening.

You set your brush down, gently smoothing your palm over his hair. “Sirius…you can tell me anything. You know that, right? I know this feels strange, but it’s still me you’re talking to. Alright? It’s me. There’s nothing you can’t tell me. Whatever it is, I’m here to listen.”

There was another splash as he shifted, twisting around to face you. He was going to say that he’d tell you another time, and that he didn’t have it in him to say it just yet. 

But then he looked into your eyes.

And you were looking at him with such sincerity and warmth that he couldn’t help but spill. You watched his eyes fill with tears, and you quickly reached for his hand which he gladly let you take.

“I saw Harry,” he finally choked out.

You felt your breath catch in your chest. A deep sorrow spread through you, filling your gut with dread. You could feel your own tears stinging behind your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away. It wasn’t the time for them.

“He looks just like them, doesn’t he?” You breathed, squeezing Sirius’s hand. “I haven’t seen him in a while. Remus promised he’d say hello for me once he got to Hogwarts.”

“He knows who you are?” Sirius asked, his voice full of surprise.

“Dumbledore wouldn’t tell me where he was when they came for him. The bastard said I was “in no shape” to look after him, and it was too dangerous for me to get involved. I tried so many times to get him to tell me, but I knew he had already pushed me and Remus to the back of the list as far as who could be around Harry…I didn’t even catch a glimpse of him until he was eight. Merlin, you have no idea how angry I was when I found out they had given him to Petunia and her sorry excuse for a husband.”

Sirius’s jaw clenched. You could see the anger brewing inside him, watching as he took deep breaths to calm himself. But he didn’t let it out on you. He just squeezed your hand, tightening his grip.

Sirius cleared his throat. “Did you try and go get him?”

“Dumbledore threatened to have my magic taken away if I didn’t leave the matter be. He didn’t tell me anything about Harry or where he was kept hidden away. He just brought me a picture of him, and promised that when it was finally time for Harry to go to Hogwarts, he’d let me see him. Remus had to keep an eye on me till he was sure I wouldn’t do something stupid before that time came. He’d been waiting as long as me—he’s just better than me at patience, I guess.”

“You never were very good at being patient,” Sirius mused, but you could hear the strain in his voice as he spoke.

You gave him a tight lipped smile, trying your best to mean it. “Anyway, I met Harry for the first time in Diagon Alley. Dumbledore finally let me see him under the condition that it be in a public and magical place—but I wasn’t allowed to tell him about you.”

Sirius frowned, and you could feel your chest tighten. You ran your thumb along the back of his hand, your eyes in your lap.

“I wanted to tell him—so badly. But Dumblefore wouldn’t let me. All I could say was that I was a friend of Harry’s parents, and that I was there to help him get ready for school. I finally told him I was his godmother last summer when I took him for school supplies again. He spent the afternoon asking me about how I knew his parents. He kept pressing for every detail about them and how I knew them, and I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I told him everything about James and Lily I could remember. It just about killed me—”

Your words caught in your throat, cutting you short. Sirius reached his other hand up to reach for yours, his brows furrowing in concern. You looked up, giving him a sad smile.

You swallowed, choking back tears. “He’s so like them, Sirius. He’s got James’s ridiculous hair, and Lily’s fire. I can hardly look at him without seeing her eyes staring back at me. It’s so fucking unfair.”

A pained sound was pulled from Sirius’s throat, and you stopped yourself from talking about James and Lily any further. You grabbed the brush again, burying your nose in your work as you tried to ignore the sorrow you caught in his eyes before he turned his head straight.

“Tell me about it,” you prompted, changing the subject. “Tell me about him.”

Sirius was quiet a moment, like he was trying to find the right words. “He was…beautiful.”

You smiled, nodding for him to continue as you worked the knots out of his hair.

“He’s got this little witch by his side who quite honestly scared me—”

“Hermione,” you finished for him, grinning. “She’s a wonder, isn’t she? Ron, too.”

Sirius nodded, wringing his hands. “I’m glad Harry has someone. They seem like good friends. He’ll at least have them by his side to keep him from getting into too much trouble. He’ll certainly have a better shot than we did.”

You chuckled, smoothing your hand over his hair. “Remus told me he’s doing really well. It was a big year for him, but…he’ll be alright. We’ll see to that now.”

Sirius stiffened, turning around to face you. You paused what you were doing, setting down the brush. His eyes were lowered, his voice quiet as he spoke.

“I told him he could come stay with me, at least once it was safe to and he was able. I wasn’t really thinking about where that would be. My first thought was Grimmauld Place, but I don’t think I can stomach having him there. It’s not right. But I didn’t think to ask you—”

“Sirius, love,” you interrupted, gently cupping his cheek. “This is your home. You can invite whoever you want—you don’t have to ask my permission. And Harry will always be welcome here. If it’s what he wants, he can come stay with us. It can be his home too.”

His eyes softened, and his shoulders fell as he let out a breath of relief. “Merlin, I missed you.”

You could feel yourself growing emotional again, but you refused to let it show. There was so much you wanted to say to him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak without your eyes welling with tears. You just cleared your throat as you leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his shoulder.

“Tilt your head back for me again, darling,” you managed to whisper, rinsing his hair out. “Almost done. We’ll get you cleaned up so you can rest, alright?”

—

Not long after, you had Sirius clean and out of the tub, bundled up under the pile of blankets you had dragged over to your bed. He looked a bit ridiculous buried under them all, but it made you smile seeing him comfortable, and he was very happy to oblige you. 

You laid next to him, under a considerably less amount of layers. “Warm enough?”

A warm laugh came from next to you as Sirius rolled over to face you. “Yeah, I think I’m all set, darling.”

You smiled, and the room fell into a comfortable silence. Out of habit—one you didn’t even know you still had—you reached for his hand under the sheets. You used to always wind down every night like this, cherishing the time you had together. You never knew how much longer you’d be able to do it with the war raging on, and you both got quite used to doing this each night. 

Sirius stiffened in surprise when he felt your fingers reach his, but he quickly recovered once he realized what you were doing. He let you take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers.

“This bed is so soft,” he murmured, tilting his chin down to look at you. “I forgot how soft it was.”

You tried not to let your mind wander, thinking about the sleeping conditions he would have had in Azkaban. He would tell you one day about what it was like there. 

Neither of you were prepared to talk about it just yet.

“Do you wanna sleep somewhere else? I could make up the couch—”

“No, love,” he said, squeezing your hand. “This is good.”

You nodded, resting your head against the pillow. Another silence fell over the room. You shuffled to get a little closer, absentmindedly tracing your thumb along the back of his hand. Sirius let out a heavy sigh, drawing your attention up to him. You waited for him to speak, lying still until he looked down and his eyes met yours. There was a pain in them you couldn’t describe.

“Did you think I did it?”

You sucked in a breath, your grip on his hand tightening. You could feel his eyes on you as you frowned, bring your joined hands up from under the sheets to rest on top of the blanket.

You had been waiting for him to ask you this.

You knew he must have spent the past decade wondering what you thought happened. He’d sat in that cell all alone, thinking his wife thought he was a cold blooded murderer who had killed her best friends. 

The world thought he was a killer. Why wouldn’t you?

You dropped his hand, gently reaching up to cup his cheek. His skin was warm against yours, a pink flush spreading. Was he embarrassed? Ashamed? You didn’t know. You caressed his cheek, giving him a sad smile. You could see his eyes welling with tears.

“No,” you finally said, your voice sure. “I didn’t think it was you. I didn’t know what had happened, but I didn’t think it was you.”

Sirius let out a breath, his voice cracking. “Really?”

You swallowed hard, nodding.

“You would have died before ever hurting James—and you would have done a lot worse to save him. There wasn’t a single part of me that thought you could have killed James and Lily. I just couldn’t fathom it. There was no one in this world you loved more than them, and I knew that it couldn’t have been you. I didn’t know they had made Peter the secret keeper last minute, and I didn’t know where his body was if he was supposed to be dead, but I knew you had absolutely nothing to do with it. I think Remus knew it too…deep down. He thought I was crazy with the theories I was coming up with to try and absolve you. But he never truly blamed you—and eventually, we stopped talking about it all together. It hurt too much to keep trying to solve the mystery. It was easier to let it go.”

Fresh tears spilled, and Sirius was quick to wipe them away. Your heart ached at his kindness, even after all these years. All these years of solitude when you had left him behind, and yet, he was the one consoling you.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked out, composing yourself the best you could. “I’m so sorry I didn’t try harder to get you back. I’m so sorry you had to suffer there all those years while I got to just keep living my life. You don’t know how sorry I am. Please forgive me, Sirius.”

Sirius quickly shook his head, his palm resting against your cheek. “None of that, pretty girl. It’s not your fault—”

“But it is,” you tried to say, but he just kept shaking his head.

“Well, I don’t care—it doesn’t matter…I don’t blame you. I never blamed you, darling. So stop blaming yourself. I’m sure you’ve spent long enough doing that, and I won’t watch you torture yourself. Don’t you think we’ve both been through enough torture?”

You could hardly believe what you were hearing. He was so strong. It shocked you, just how strong he was. He had been through so much, and yet he still carried himself like the man you knew. He still let other people lean on him even when it should have been him doing the leaning. It was remarkable, really.

“Since when did you get so wise?” You asked, and you had mustered a grin that made him smile too. “Where’s the stubborn man I once knew?”

Sirius shrugged. “He’s still in here somewhere. Just needs a little practice. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll meet him again soon.”

You scoffed, breathing out a laugh. “That’s alright. I kinda missed him.”

Sirius chuckled, and your smile widened. This felt easy—this was good. You were so worried that, after all this time, you wouldn’t know how to act around each other. You were so afraid that Sirius would walk around the flat like a ghost of the man who once called it home. But he didn’t. It only took him a few hours to start cracking jokes, brushing his fingers against yours. 

It wasn’t perfect—neither of you expected it to be. 

But it gave you hope. Sirius was going to be okay. You both were going to be okay. And you’d get there together.

—

A/N - Hi! Again, I'm so sorry for the wait. I honestly don’t love the outcome of this, but I figured I’d finish it anyways. I loved this request, and I just kept coming back to it and adding it. Hopefully this is what you were looking for, sorry if it’s shit. Thanks for the request :)

[anxiousnerdwritings]

Yandere Smaug Headcanons (platonic)

Smaug would be extremely possessive of his darling and just as protective. They are the most valuable possession amongst his hoard after all, his most precious treasure. Their worth is more than all the gold and jewels in the world to him. So much so that he could never part with them. That’s why he insists, or rather demands you stay amongst his hoard, where he knows it’s safe. Besides, you’re surrounded by so many beautiful, shiney things and they’re all yours.

Of course you would be kept in the safety of his sanctum after he’s taken the Lonely Mountain for himself. Harbored amongst all the gold, gems and jewels you couldn’t possibly think of, right where Smaug wants you most. He couldn’t possibly fathom any harm coming to his precious one, not when you have him to protect you.

Smaug is extremely strict about allowing his precious one to go anywhere, even if it is to venture off to another part of his sanctum. He doesn’t like not having them within his sight. He hates the thought of them getting hurt or lost, but he especially despises the idea of them ever stepping foot outside his lair. If that were to ever happen his panic and anger couldn’t possibly be repressed.

If his darling were to stray too far or is gone just a little too long for his liking/comfort, Smaug will follow their scent and drag them back to where he feels most comfortable keeping having them. There are very few places he allows them to venture to and he knows them all by heart, being more than capable to go after them if need be and easily retrieve his darling, bringing them back to the only real space he’s comfortable with them staying kept in. It keeps them closest to him and he can keep his eye on them in every sense of the word, even when he’s sleeping he’ll know if they make even the slightest of changes in their usual movements. Smaug is very well aware of his environment and the space he’s resigned himself to, he’ll know if they take even just one step out of the perimeter he’s allowed them to move freely about.

As much as he spoils his darling, Smaug really only rewards good and obedient behavior. Anything less than or just blatant disobedience won’t be take lightly. Smaug demands respect, especially from his little darling. It’s because of him that you are safe and so well taken care of, the least you can do is show some gratitude and appreciation towards him.

As gruff and grumpy as Smaug can be there are times he can be quite playful with his little darling, especially if it’s what they want and they’ve been pretty well behaved. It didn’t take him long to realize that often then not when his darling would venture off and stray away from where he demanded they stay kept was to solely get him to chase after them in a playful game of tag or hide and seek. He can usually tell the difference in whether his darling is trying to make a run for it or is simply trying to get him to play with them. It’s the gigging that really gives it away.

Not only can Smaug be playful but he’s also an excellent storyteller. When he really wants some peace and quiet or to just get his darling to go to sleep in general, Smaug will use his tail to bring them close to him, curling it around them to keep them in place then he goes on telling them stories of his adventures. Sometimes when his darling is really restless he’ll ask them what story they want to hear but more times then not his stories usually involve him boasting and bragging about himself. He especially takes care to make it clear to his darling that he is in fact the biggest dragon to ever exist. Of course it’s a complete lie but his darling doesn’t know that, and even if they were to question him about it he wouldn’t let up. As far as Smaug’s concerned he is the biggest dragon around now.

As much as Smaug typically comes off as aloof or even flat out terrifying he does hold some genuine care for his darling, even if it is just a little. His obsession is primarily possessive with that possessiveness only becoming all the worse the more his obsession festers and grows. Eventually his darling will become something more than just an object for him to own, they’ll become a treasure he certainly doesn’t want anyone or anything else getting ahold of. And with that said he will do anything to keep them with him, and only with him. He will reign hellfire down on anyone or anything that dares to steal his darling treasure away from him.

[lxdymoon0357]

Hello, I would like a request from the manhwa, I became a rival of the male protagonists of yandere +18 Benjamin Lemberk with a nomadic elf reader who, upon seeing her for the first time, becomes obsessed with her. She has the appearance and personality of Florentia Lombardi, please.

(NSFW CONTENT, warnings: unprotected sex, (this is fictional, y'all..Be safe), face sitting, hair pulling, clit play, dacryphilia, putting out cigarettes or cigars onto skin, pain kink, humiliation kink, spanking, dumbification. somewhat toxic? A bit cringe, OOC but not really, he's just a cruel bastard. Mostly jut NSFW headcanons, nothing too elf-ish specific, I'd say, sorry. Fem! Reader. Reader has ginger-ish hair. Florentia Lombardi! Reader)

© Writing belongs to me, Lxdymoon0357. Do not plagiarize, but reblogging, liking and commenting is deeply appreciated.

Benjamin Lemberk X Elf?Reader NSFW Headcanons

ஐ Benjamin Lemberk, is a man of certain taste, having somehow fallen out of Claudine's loving circle, has his eyes kept tight on the little nomadic elf, that became his new loving obsession. Of-course how far do you think you'll go before you crawl back to him? Not too far off, of-course. It isn't long before you're under him, crying as thrusted his dick into you, while you clawed at the blanket.

ஐ Of-course he does. His hips moving in circle, the balmy skin slapping on skip as his cock basically scoffed to the hilt inside your folds, your eyes dazed as you whined, your ass against his thighs as he moved fast and rough, laughing through his groans every time you cried out and clawed at the sheet and begging him to be nicer.

ஐ His hand shoving your face into the sheets, while you tried to stay dignified, act all poised and elegant all you want in public, but you're not getting any point or shred of dignity while he's fucking you. His fingers just roughly rubbing and pressing down on your clit, making sure you're crying till you can't breath, only sobbing into the sheets-

ஐ He makes sure you're not even breathing, if he could have it..his hand is his favourite necklace on you, squeezing your throat to feel your gummy walls squeeze down on him, trying to milk him for all he's worth, till you're almost passing out, only that's when he's removing his hand and instead grabbing your hips to pull you down on his cock.

ஐ With the rather optimal option to fuck your throat, he just loves to stuff your mouth full, your gags are his personal music, your throat his personal pocket pussy, he just smirks down laughing at you when you're crying, spitting out his cum which he'll only spread across your face using his tip..He has shame in fucking a little tease, his personal cock-tease.

ஐ Giving you backshots, till it sounds like he's playing bongos on your ass...till you're going dumb on his cock, your ass jingling with ever swat he gives, noe hand stuffed with your hair, pulling it to pull you back every time you tried to escape his grip, fucking your pussy and swiping his hand on your clit, your juices coating his hips as he moved them in circular motions to hit that spongy g-spot with accelerations in his hips, pulling your head back to arch your back till you're gasping on his cock..

ஐ He doesn't just hit for pleasure, if he's gonna hit it...He'll hit it till your mind breaks. Bejamin's hands trapping both your droopy ankles with one dextrous set of his thick fingers, dragging you about halfway down the king-sized mattress in an instant. He’s oh-so-greedily pinning them over the curvaceous dip of his deltoids with a mean, sweat-slicked palm, “Don’t tell me yer hah- tapping out after only three minutes?”  

ஐ He'll humiliate you in public if he doesn't get what he wants at times, his hand gently squeezing your throat and if he's not getting what he wants right then and there..he's gonna make sure he'll get more than enough, he'll overindulge in your fucking cunt till he's breaking you apart-

ஐ Half-way through, when you're barely registering anything, he'll make you use your own powers on yourself. Making sure his little elf is kept under his control, he kisses your ears, bits them gently, leaving hickeys or tiny bite marks on them, shoving your face down in the covers, till he can only see your pointed ears twitching while you're out your md and mindlessly causing plants to sprout from random places due to the heat of the moment.

ஐ He loves to see you struggle with registering anything, the biiiig stretch of his cock till you're feeling him in your tummy, crying as your legs kick out when his swipes his thumb on your clit till he swats on your juicy cunt..covering his hand in juices, putting out his cigarettes on your back of your thighs if he's especially upset at you.

7 minutes, 28 seconds.

"Ah-ah-ah..Hah, fuckin' tease..this is is-ngh....what you wante', no?" Benjamin smirks on top of you, his hand bundled up in your ginger-esque wavy hair, pulling it back with his fist bundled in it as he moved his hips ahead, every hit causing you to swing forward. Ben's movements aren't just rude— He's cruel and mean and so SO painful-

Your hips thrashing into the sheets as you whined, your legs quivering as you tried to claw at the mattress, moving ahead a bit just as his hand hits your ass, before kneading it in between his fingers,

"Beenjiii- Ah-Ooooh...fu-fuck, ha-...ha!" barely formulating words, his mean hips kept hitting into that one spot. Any words formulating were now simply washing away with every thrust he hits like he's mad at your G-spot

Benjamin snickers down at your little form, one hand tightly bundled into your half gingerish-hair half your usual hair colour..his other hand smoking a cigar softly, smirking as he hit his hips meanly.

His eyes fell on the mirror just ahead of you while he was blowing out smoke, already steaming up due to your laboured breathing and drool, as you kept whining, "Bennnn, hard-harder-more...want more-mo..want more..!" you kept whining, HIS mindless little fuckdoll.

Soft tits glissading up and down up and down the sweat-slicked plane of the wide, cushiony satin pillows. So drunken. So pliant. And he can’t help but plant a soppy smack! against the hooded of your puffy clit with one free hand. 

Only making you let out a soft and whiny "Oooooh...! Beennnjiii" arching your back and shoving your ass back onto his cock, your cunt doing most of the talking to speak how much you needed him to fuck you, all while stretching his name as if it'll get you more sympathy from him.

No-It can't be...? Can it?

His smirk almost widens as he takes a slow drag from the cigar as he pulled out and shoved you to turn you on your back and pull up onto his lap using your throat roughly. Moving his tip around to cover his tip with your juices like lipgloss, while your cunt kept crying with the sound of sluck-sluck! every time Benjamin moved his hips around to grind against your puffy lips, before simply shoving his cock deep into your cunt.

Breath hitching choppily, he’s grabbing your throat - dragging you like some ragdoll until you were only mere condensed inches away from him. You couldn’t be…could you?

"Too-Hah...biig...hah-Hmm Bennn-" You back arching, your tits pressing against his wide pecs, which he take the chance as he blows out smoke from the cigar, before ht stubs it on your midriff, causing you to only whine out softly, grinding down your shimmying hips onto his cock.

Oh.

But of course he can’t leave his dear elf-ish wife hanging - especially not when you’re all fucking yourself stupid on him like this within only 7 minutes and 28 seconds, no no no..!~

He can almost smile at how humiliating will it be in your prideful face, now turning into lewd like a little slut..

Tongue stuck out, lips glossy and covered in drool, tits and ass all red from spanks...Your powers going haywire to produce tiny flowers at random spots on your skin or causing the plants you kept near his bed to overgrow into large wild plants..

He can only smirk, his cock-drunk little elvish-slut..How perfect she looks, dumbed out for him??

[thewulf]

The Price of Protection || Captain John Price

Summary: Request -Recently I was SA. Now I wasn't R@ped. But I was peer pressured/manipulated and intoxicated to verbally consenting to things I didn't want to do. I'm not asking for it to be relived but rather comfort. Everyone always talks about feeling disgusted but I want comfort for the guilt and second thoughts... Read Rest Here

A/N: THIS ONE IS HEAVY. Please read the trigger warnings below. Thank you anon for trusting me with this. I hope you like it.

Pairing: Captain John Price x Female Reader, TF 141 x Platonic Female Reader

Word Count: 4.8k +

TW: MENTIONS OF SA (Not outright but hints), Heavy Angst, general COD warnings.

You had always admired your Captain for as long as you’ve known him. It wasn’t but almost three years ago now that you were assigned to Task Force 141. They were skeptical at first, as you would be too. Who was this little American girl infiltrating their ranks? This was a Task Force with the most brilliant minds and somehow you were there. Yet, you had proven yourself one of the most valuable assets to the team time and time again. You were good, great even, at your job. You could hack into anything, take over any camera you wanted, reroute rockets if you had the time allotted. You were the genius behind some of the missions that could’ve gone south fast. You were Captain Price’s secret weapon that he kept well hidden.

It took you a while to open up to the guys. But leave it to Soap to get you talking. After a year of trying your best to maintain the Ghost persona, Soap had successfully broken you down. They learned of your past, how you came to be so freakishly good with computers and hacking, where you went to school and where you grew up. You were an enigma to the team. And they grew to love you. It was slow until it wasn’t. You were an outcast until you weren’t. You found yourself laughing and bantering with John, Soap, Gaz, and Ghost time and time again. Suddenly, you were a part of the team, a true member of TF141.

Most times you would head out with the team to help them out. But sometimes you could do the job right from your home base. And this mission turned out to be one of those times. You didn’t hate that you didn’t get to go; you just felt a little left out when you stayed back. But Price always assured you it was for your safety above all else. Sometimes these missions were a little too dangerous for even you. Which of course led you to be more nervous than ever. If it was too dangerous for you, then what was it for them? Surely no walk in the park.

You walked with Price out to the chopper trying one last time. “Captain, are you sure? I can help with logistics once you get there.”

He gave you that signature soft Price smile before shaking his head softly. “I’m sure. It’s a quick in and out. No need to put you in the line of fire for it.”

“But…”

He cut you off. “I know you want to go. I really do. But it’s not worth the risk. You’re too valuable to this team.”

You let out a sigh before nodding. “I understand. Please be safe. Make sure everybody comes back in one piece.”

He gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Like we always do. We land at 0800 local time. Soap will be giving you a call then. We’ll see you soon.”

Pressing your lips together you forced a smile to him. “You better.” With a quick nod, you watched as he hopped in the chopper with the rest of the team. Soap flipped you off before the pilot ascended, leaving you in a fit of laughter, always the shit he was.

You had forgotten how much you disliked being away from the team. You felt so far, so disengaged. Even with MacTavish swearing like a sailor in your ear. You felt totally helpless but tried your best to do whatever you could for the team. The mission was successful but not without hiccup. Gaz had been shot, fortunately, it was just a small graze to the shoulder but nevertheless it reminded you of how fragile their lives were. How one misstep could take a best friend away from you. How crucial you really were to their livelihood.

The stress was getting to you tonight though. The thought of mortality was becoming too much. So, you found yourself at the bar just outside of base. What better way to bury your stresses away than to drink your worries away right with it? You weren’t usually so careless. But the worry and the helplessness got the better of you. One beer turned to two. Turned to a few shots bought by a man across the bar who was giving you the eyes. You’d seen him around base. Maybe even chatted for a brief time. But you chose to never give these men the time of day, until tonight. You knew the type and usually stayed far away. But it was a moment of weakness that got to you.

As the night wore on and the drinks kept coming, the edges of your worries dulled. For a fleeting moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders. It was a temporary reprieve, a fleeting sense of freedom from the constant pressure of your responsibilities. In the chatter and clinking of glasses you felt an unwanted hand on your shoulder, and you turned to see the man who had been buying you drinks. His smile was charming, but there was a hint of something predatory in his gaze. Instinctively you tensed as your senses were on high alert in your inebriated state.

You forced a polite smile, but you felt uneasy. The alcohol had clouded your judgment, leaving you vulnerable and exposed. You knew you should’ve left right then and there. Find your way back to the safety of base, but a part of you hesitated. Maybe it was the loneliness or the desire to forget, but you entertained the idea of staying just a little longer.

As the minutes ticked on, you found yourself ensnared in a web of conversation with the soldier. His words were like honeyed poison, dripping with false charm and manipulation. He seemed to know just what to say. But beneath the surface there was a darkness lurking. A predatory intent masked by the guise of friendly banter. The alcohol eventually dulled your senses, clouding your judgment as you struggled to keep up with the rapid pace of the conversation. His words became a blur as each syllable merged into the next until they lost all meaning. But still you listened captivated by the illusion of connection he wove around you.

His touch was insistent. His hands lingering where they shouldn't have been sending shivers of discomfort down your spine. You tried to pull away, to put some distance between you and this stranger who seemed to know too much about you. But he only tightened his grip, his fingers leaving marks in their wake.

As the night wore on, the line between consent and coercion blurred. Your protests drowned out by the relentless onslaught of alcohol and manipulation. You knew deep down that you didn't want this, that every fiber of your being screamed for you to escape. But you felt trapped, suffocated by the weight of his expectations. And so, with a soul weighed down by guilt and shame, you surrendered to his advances. Your body moving on autopilot as you sought refuge in the temporary oblivion of physical pleasure. But even as you gave in a part of you screamed in silent agony you mourned the loss of you usual control.

In the aftermath as the harsh light of reality pierced through the haze of alcohol and regret, you were left grappling with the devastating truth of what had transpired. You had been used, manipulated, reduced to nothing more than a pawn in someone else's twisted game. The guilt threatened to consume you, gnawing at your insides as you struggled to come to terms with what had happened. You blamed yourself, berating your own weakness and naivety. Wishing you had been stronger, smarter, better able to protect yourself. But deep down you knew the truth. You were not to blame. You were a victim of his manipulation, preyed upon by someone who saw you as nothing more than a means to an end.

The next day dawned with a heavy burden that seemed to press down upon your shoulders, weighing you down with the crushing weight of guilt and shame. As the TF141 team returned from their mission, the atmosphere in the base shifted. You left the air thick with an unspoken tension that hung over the corridors.

Alone in your room, you felt as though you were drowning in a sea of despair, the walls closing in around you with every passing moment. Tears streamed down your cheeks unchecked, leaving salty trails in their wake as you grappled with the overwhelming flood of emotions. Each sob that wracked your body felt like a physical manifestation of the agony that churned within you. A relentless reminder of the betrayal of your own body and the violation of your trust. Every breath was a struggle, a battle against the suffocating weight of shame that threatened to crush you beneath its relentless onslaught.

Outside your door, the sounds of laughter from Soap and Gaz only served to deepen your anguish. You could hear Price and the others talking, their footsteps echoing through the corridors as they made their way back to their quarters. But despite the familiarity of their presence, you couldn't bring yourself to face them. You couldn't bear the thought of meeting their eyes and seeing the disappointment and judgment reflected back at you. Instead, you remained sequestered in your room. You isolated yourself from the world outside as you struggled to come to terms with what had actually happened.

As the hours passed and the weight of your guilt continued to bear down on you, your phone buzzed incessantly with messages from Soap, Gaz and even Ghost. Each notification felt like a sharp jab to your already fragile psyche, a painful reminder of the concern and judgment you knew awaited you on the other end of the line. Soap's messages were filled with words of worry and encouragement, his concern evident in the way he repeatedly asked if you were okay. Gaz's messages were more subdued, but no less concerned, his terse inquiries betraying the depth of his worry for your well-being.

You ignored their messages, unable to fake it to them. Instead, you buried yourself deeper in the cocoon of your own despair, the silence of your room offering little solace in the midst of your turmoil. But as the day wore on and hunger gnawed at your stomach, you reluctantly dragged yourself out of bed and made your way to the cafeteria. It was late, far later than anyone else would-be getting dinner, or so you thought.

As you entered the desolate cafeteria, your heart sank at the sight of Ghost sitting alone at a table in the corner. Despite the emptiness of the room his presence felt suffocating, casting a harsh spotlight on the turmoil brewing within you. With a sigh you ignored him and walked up to serve yourself the usual dull military food. You felt Ghost's gaze boring into you. His eyes a mixture of concern and confusion as they lingered on your tear-stained face.

You filled your plate with food, your hands shaking as you struggled to maintain your composure. The weight of Ghost's scrutiny felt like a physical burden. But as you made your way past Ghost's table, you couldn't bring yourself to meet his eyes. Instead, you kept your gaze fixed on the floor. Your cheeks burned with shame as you tried to hide the evidence of your recent breakdown.

With a quick nod of acknowledgment, you hurried away from Ghost's table. Your steps quickening as you sought refuge in the farthest corner of the room. You found an empty table and sat down keeping your head bowed as you focused on your food, desperate to avoid any further scrutiny. But despite your best efforts, you could still feel Ghost's gaze burning into you. His concern was a palpable presence in the empty room. You felt exposed, vulnerable, as if every inch of your skin was laid bare for him to see. And as you picked at your food, your appetite all but forgotten in the wake of your turbulent emotions. You couldn't help but wonder how long you could keep up the charade. How long before the facade you had constructed came crashing down around you?

As Ghost approached your table, his presence a calming anchor in the midst of your turbulent emotions, he gave a curt nod of acknowledgment. "Hey, kid," he greeted you in his trademark gruff tone, his voice carrying a note of concern beneath its rough exterior. "You alright?"

You tried to mask the evidence of your tears with a feeble attempt at a smile, but Ghost saw right through that. His keen eyes bore into yours, his gaze unwavering as he waited for your response.

"Yeah, just allergies acting up," you replied, your voice betraying the strain of your attempts to deflect his concern.

But Ghost wasn't fooled. He knew you better than that, could see the pain etched into every line of your face. With a grunt of acknowledgment, he accepted your explanation, though you could tell he wasn't entirely convinced.

"I won't push ya," he said with his gravelly voice, his tone softened by a rare display of empathy. "But if you ever wanna talk about it, I'm here." With a grateful nod, you thanked him and watched as he walked out of the room leaving you to your thoughts.

As the morning sun filtered through the curtains you found yourself ensnared in a labyrinth of restless thoughts. Each beam of sunlight seemed to illuminate the tangled mess of emotions that swirled within you, highlighting the heavy shroud of guilt that enveloped your very being. You had spent the night tossing and turning, your pillow dampened by tears that ebbed and flowed.

Just as you had managed to drift into a fitful slumber the persistent knocking at your door shattered the fragile semblance of peace you had managed to find. Each rap on the door felt like a blow to your already fragile composure jolting you awake from the fleeting respite of sleep. Groggy and disoriented you stumbled across the room, every step a struggle against the weight of exhaustion that hung heavy upon your shoulders.

With a heavy heart Captain John Price stood on the other side of the door, his hand hovering tentatively over the handle as he took in the sight before him. His breath caught in his throat, a pang of concern twisting in his chest at the sight of you. The vibrant energy that usually radiated from you had been replaced by a sadness he rarely saw from you. A shadow of your former self. His heart clenched with a mixture of empathy and apprehension as he took in your fragile state. Every instinct urged him to gather you into his arms, to shield you from the pain that etched lines of sorrow upon your face. But he held back, knowing that you needed space to unravel the tangled threads of your emotions in your own time. With a silent prayer on his lips, Price waited for you to acknowledge him.

"Captain, what are you doing here?" you greeted him with a ghost of a smile, though it failed to reach your eyes, which still held traces of the turbulent night you had endured.

Price's gaze softened at the sight of you, his concern etched into every line of his expression. "Hey love," he greeted softly, his voice carrying a gentle warmth that offered solace in the midst of your turmoil. "Missed you this morning at PT. Everything alright?"

You forced a tight-lipped smile, the effort of masking your inner turmoil nearly unbearable. Every word you spoke felt like a weight upon your chest, each syllable a struggle against the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to engulf you. "Yeah, just feeling a bit under the weather," you replied, your voice strained with the weight of the unspoken troubles that gnawed at your conscience. Price's brow furrowed deeper in concern as he studied your haggard appearance. His gaze lingered on you, searching for answers in the depths of your tired eyes, his intuition telling him that there was more to your distress than a simple case of illness.

"You sure that's all it is?" he pressed gently, his voice laced with a mixture of concern and skepticism. He had known you long enough to recognize when something weighed heavily on your mind, and the mask you wore now couldn't conceal the truth from him.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to respond. The weight of your secrets threatened to suffocate you, but you clung to the fragile facade you had constructed, unwilling to burden him with the weight of your troubles. "Yeah, just... a rough night," you murmured, the words tasting bitter on your tongue as you forced them past the lump that lodged there.

Price had always treated you differently, with a softness he never seemed to reserve for the others. From the moment you joined Task Force 141, he recognized the weight of the horrors that came with the job.  He made it his mission to be there for you in a way that went beyond mere professional obligation. He became your confidant, your sounding board, the one person you could turn to when the darkness threatened to overwhelm you. His gentle demeanor and unwavering kindness provided a safe haven in the chaos of missions and the toll they took on your spirit.

Price's gaze softened with understanding as he reached out to gently squeeze your arm. His touch was a far cry from the man a few nights ago. He was that comforting anchor in the storm of your emotions.

"You don't have to face it alone, you know," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm to your weary soul. "Whatever it is, you can talk to me. You can always talk to me, love."

Indeed, Price's tenderness towards you was unmistakable. While you were every bit a soldier like the rest, he recognized that you were different. The things you witnessed and the actions you took on these missions slowly started eating away at you long ago. But Price was there offering solace and understanding. His affection for you growing deeper with each shared moment of vulnerability.

Over the three years of working together Price found himself drawn to more than just your skills and abilities. It was your spirit, your unwavering determination, and your unique personality that captivated him. At first it was subtle, just a flicker of admiration for the way you handled yourself under pressure, the way you never backed down from a challenge. But as time went on and he got to know you better, that admiration blossomed into something deeper. He found himself enchanted by the fire in your eyes when you spoke passionately about something you believed in. He admired the way you never lost your humanity, even in the midst of the darkest missions. Your compassion and empathy for others in the face of danger touched something within him that he hadn't realized was missing.

Price began to notice the small things about you, the adorable quirks that made you uniquely yourself. He found himself smiling at your jokes, laughing at your antics, and feeling a sense of peace whenever you were around. He cherished the moments when you let your guard down and allowed him to see the vulnerable side of you. He felt honored that you trusted him with your fears and insecurities.

As the years went by, Price realized that his feelings for you had evolved beyond mere admiration. He was in love with you. He loved the way you made him feel alive, the way you challenged him to be a better man, and the way you brought light into his dark world. But even as his feelings grew, Price knew that he could never act on them. Not while he was your Captain and the stakes of their missions remained so high. So, he buried his feelings deep inside. He was content to love you from afar and grateful for the opportunity to know you. Even if it meant keeping his emotions hidden.

Soap, Ghost, and Gaz were like a finely tuned unit, attuned not only to the dynamics of the battlefield but also to the subtleties of their comrades' interactions. They noticed the way Price's demeanor would shift whenever you entered the room. The slight softening of his usually stern expression, the warmth that crept into his eyes as they lingered on you, and the way his voice would adopt a gentler tone when he spoke to you. It was unmistakable to them though they never openly acknowledged it.

In their downtime when the mission chatter had quieted, and they found themselves lounging around the base, the guys would exchange knowing glances whenever Price's attention seemed to linger on you a little longer than necessary. Soap might chuckle and nudge Ghost, raising an eyebrow in silent communication that spoke volumes about Price's apparent fondness for you. Ghost, ever the silent observer, would offer a small smirk in return, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched Price navigate the delicate balance between professionalism and the undeniable affection he held for you.

Gaz, always one for a bit of banter, wouldn't hesitate to make playful remarks whenever the opportunity presented itself. He'd tease Price about being extra protective of you during missions, jokingly suggesting that Price had a soft spot for you that he couldn't quite hide. Price would roll his eyes in response, brushing off Gaz's comments with a gruff retort. But the slight flush that colored his cheeks betrayed the truth behind Gaz's jests.

Despite their teasing, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz respected the unspoken boundaries that surrounded Price's feelings for you. They knew that his affection for you was genuine and deep-rooted, and they never pushed him to confront it unless he was ready. As for you, you might have been the only one oblivious to the undercurrent of emotions swirling around Price. To you he remained the steadfast leader, unwavering in his commitment to the mission and the safety of his team. His true feelings were well hidden behind a mask of professionalism and duty.

Tears welled in your eyes as you struggled to find the courage to vocalize the turmoil that had been devouring you from within. The weight of your confession hung heavy upon your shoulders. Each word feeling like a jagged stone forced from your chest. "I... I had a little too much to drink while everyone was gone," you confessed, your voice barely rising above a whisper, as if you were afraid the words themselves would shatter the fragile sanctuary you had built around yourself. "And... I did things... things I didn't want to do."

As you spoke, the air in the room seemed to thicken with a suffocating sense of shame. You couldn't bring yourself to meet Price's gaze. You feared the judgment you were sure would reflect in his eyes. But when you finally summoned the courage to glance up, the expression etched on Price's face was not one of condemnation but of utmost concern. His features tightened with an intensity that mirrored the turmoil raging within him. His heart twisted with a potent blend of anger and sorrow at the thought of someone exploiting your vulnerability in such a despicable manner. But despite the roiling emotions churning beneath the surface, he remained stoically composed. He understood that now was not the time for upsetting you even further.

"Coerced..." you added, your voice trembling with shame as you unveiled the truth that had festered within you like a poison, eating away at your sense of self-worth with every passing moment. "I tried to resist, but... he wouldn't listen. He wouldn’t take no for an answer."

As the weight of your confession hung heavy in the air between you, you couldn't help but feel a surge of relief wash over you. As if the simple act of vocalizing your pain had lifted a burden that had threatened to crush you. Despite the shame that threatened to consume you there was a profound sense of solace in knowing that you were no longer bearing this burden alone. That you had finally allowed yourself to be vulnerable in front of the one person you trusted implicitly.

In that moment of raw honesty, you couldn't help but wonder if Price understood the depth of your feelings for him. If he could see beyond the facade you presented to the world and glimpse the tangled mess of emotions that lay hidden beneath the surface. As you spoke you couldn't deny the palpable sense of comfort that enveloped you. It was as if in allowing yourself to be vulnerable with Price you had discovered a sanctuary where judgment held no power, where acceptance reigned supreme. Captain John Price was the best of men.

And as Price listened his gaze never wavering from yours, you couldn't shake the feeling that he knew on some level the depth of your affection for him. Perhaps it was the gentleness in his touch, the understanding in his eyes, or the unwavering support he offered without hesitation. Whatever the reason, you found yourself daring to hope that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way. As the weight of your confession hung heavy in the air between you, you realized with startling clarity that Price was more than just a trusted confidant. He was your rock, your pillar of strength in a world filled with uncertainty and doubt. And as the realization settled deep within your heart, you couldn't help but acknowledge the truth that had been staring you in the face all along: you loved him, in a way that transcended mere friendship.

With each passing moment, the bond between you and Price grew stronger, forged in the chaos of shared experiences and unwavering support. And as you looked into his eyes seeing the reflection of your own emotions mirrored back at you, you knew without a doubt that you could tell him anything, and he would be right there for you, no matter what.

Price's grip on your arm tightened ever so slightly as you made your confession. His touch both grounding and reassuring in its strength. His resolve hardened as he fought back the surge of protectiveness that threatened to consume him. "I'm here for you," he reassured you, his voice unwavering in its conviction. "Whatever you need, I'll do everything in my power to help you through this."

As Price listened to your trembling words a whirlwind of emotions roiled within him. Anger burned hot in his chest at the thought of someone taking advantage of you. His fists clenched with the urge to seek retribution. But beneath the rage a deeper sense of sorrow welled up aching with empathy for the pain you had endured alone. "I will always be here for you," he murmured again. As the weight of your confession settled upon you both Price felt a swell of tenderness wash over him, mingling with the fierce determination that burned within him. He wanted nothing more than to wrap you in his arms, to shield you from the pain that gnawed at your soul.

With a gentle hand he lifted your chin, meeting your tear-filled gaze with unwavering reassurance. His heart clenched at the sight of your vulnerability, and he couldn't help but brush away the tears that traced delicate paths down your cheeks. "You're not alone. I promise you that," he whispered, his voice infused with a quiet strength that resonated deep within you. "I'll be right here, every step of the way." And as he spoke those words you felt a sense of solace wash over you. You knew that you could lean on him, trust in him.

Against his better judgment, Price drew you into his embrace. His arms encircling you with a tenderness that concealed the strength of his resolve. He held you close as you surrendered to the flood of tears that just kept coming. "It's okay," he murmured softly, his voice a gentle reassurance in the midst of your turmoil. "I've got you. You're safe now."

His heart clenched at the sight of your vulnerability. He couldn't help but brush his hand through your hair. His touch a comforting caress that made you shiver. With each stroke he hoped to ease the burden that weighed so heavily upon your shoulders.

"You're not alone love," he whispered in reassurance. His voice a quiet promise against the chaos of your emotions. "I'm here for you, always." He said once more letting you know that he wasn’t going anywhere. He continued to hold you as the tears slowly subsided. His silent grasp on you a vow to stand by your side through every trial and tribulation that may lay ahead.

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