#blame it on the storm fanfic

[fallingskywaterr]

I know that on AO3 I’m the only one so far to write a fic about this rare pair, but I’m wondering if anyone’s seen anything else featuring these two elsewhere? I wrote Vacaciones partly on a dare that got out of hand when I realised that these two assholes could actually mesh really well. Curious to see another take on their possible relationship (especially how they could get together).

[ghostinthegallery]

Dead gods Szeras is so damn annoying to paint he is a menace and a war criminal and I am off to make him everyone else's problem

[athenacoreii]

" Jealousy, jealousy "

Law x reader, Kid x reader

tags: love triangle, jealous law

A/N: I'm new when it comes to making fanfics but I hope you enjoy reading this:_)

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

The battlefield was pure chaos—a storm of clashing blades, roaring beasts, and Devil Fruit powers tearing through the floors of Onigashima. Amidst the madness, you kept your focus, cutting down enemies, fighting alongside some of the most dangerous pirates in the New World.

And then there was him.

"Oi, Y/N!"

Kid’s rough voice cut through the din as he crashed into the fray beside you, his metal-covered arm slamming into a group of Beast Pirates and sending them flying. He grinned, wild and dangerous. "Try to keep up, yeah?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smirking. "I don’t have time to babysit you, Kid."

He laughed, eyes gleaming with mischief. "You wound me. But I don’t mind—since you’re way prettier when you’re mad."

Before you could retort, a sharp voice cut in.

"Quit screwing around, Eustass-ya. Focus."

Law appeared in a flash, the distinctive shambles sound of his Devil Fruit power following him. His sword slashed through an enemy behind you, effortless as ever. His golden eyes flicked to you, scanning you quickly. "Are you okay?"

You nodded, smiling slightly. "Captain! I’m fine. We need to push forward—"

"Then stop getting distracted," Law snapped, voice tight. But his glare wasn’t aimed at you. It was locked on Kid.

Kid grinned wider, clearly enjoying himself. "What’s the matter, Trafalgar? Jealous?" He leaned closer to you, his voice dropping into a mockingly low, flirtatious tone. "Can’t blame you… Y/N's a hell of a fighter and easy on the eyes."

The temperature dropped.

"Room."

Before you could react, you were yanked backward, the battlefield shifting in an instant. Law’s power had placed you behind him, his tall frame shielding you from the chaos. His sword pointed straight at Kid, his face eerily calm—but his eyes were sharp, cold.

"Say one more word, and I’ll dissect you," Law said, voice dangerously low.

"Try me," Kid shot back, his grin never faltering.

The air between them crackled with tension, but you didn’t have time for this.

"Both of you, knock it off!" you snapped, stepping between them. "We’re in the middle of a war, or did you forget?"

They glared at each other for a long beat before Law finally huffed in frustration, turning away. "Stay close to me," he muttered.

Kid, of course, wasn’t done. "Don’t worry, Y/N. When this is over, I’ll take you out for a drink..If you survive sticking with him," he added with a smirk.

Law’s glare darkened, but before he could react, you groaned and covered Kid’s mouth with your hand. "Enough!"

You could feel him laughing under your palm, mumbling something muffled but no doubt infuriating.

"Room. Shambles."

The battlefield blurred, and suddenly, you and Law stood alone in a secluded area, away from the chaos. The only sounds were the distant echoes of battle and your own quickened breath.

"Why did you—?" you started, but Law turned to you, his expression unusually serious.

"You’re reckless," he muttered. "Letting him pull you into his games when there are enemies all around. It’s dangerous."

You raised an eyebrow. "I can handle myself, Captain."

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. "I know," he admitted, softer this time. "That’s not the point."

You frowned, watching him carefully. This wasn’t just about Kid anymore. There was something deeper in his voice, something restrained.

"Then what is the point?" you asked quietly.

Law hesitated, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword before finally meeting your gaze. "I don’t want to lose you."

The words hung between you, heavier than the battlefield, heavier than the war itself.

Your breath caught. "Captain—"

"Kid flirts because he has nothing to lose," Law interrupted, voice steady but tense. "I don’t have that luxury. I don’t say things I don’t mean, Y/N."

Your heart pounded. This was Trafalgar Law—always calculating, always keeping a distance. But now, there was no distance. No barriers. Just him, raw and unguarded.

You stepped closer. "Then say it."

Law’s golden eyes searched yours. A battle raged behind them, fiercer than any war around you. And then—

"I love you."

The words were barely a whisper, but they carried more weight than anything he’d ever said before.

You didn’t hesitate.

Grabbing the front of his coat, you pulled him down, crashing your lips against his. Law stiffened for a moment, but then his hands were on you, pulling you closer as he kissed you back—slowly, deeply, like he was memorizing the shape of your lips.

When you finally pulled away, you smiled breathlessly. "You took your time."

Law exhaled, pressing his forehead to yours. "I had to be sure."

Distantly, you could still hear the battle, but it didn’t matter. Because for the first time, Trafalgar Law wasn’t just fighting to win.

He was fighting for you.

[wizardsgirl25]

Something I think is funny while rereading scenes from the PJO series and reading fanfic while writing my Time Travel Don't Fix It fic, is the scene where Percy gets Claimed, right? And Annabeth legitimately says "I thought it would be Zeus" and No One BLINKS.

Y'all. NO ONE expected Zeus to NOT BREAK HIS VOW AGAIN. NO ONE. And I think that's hilarious bc obviously it's SO true, but, think on it this way:

Percy looks NOTHING like Zeus. He doesn't have ANY of the characteristics that previous Zeus-Babies did/do. And people STILL thought he might, out of the Big Three, be Zeus's. EVEN AFTER THE TOILET WATER SCENE. This shows EXACTLY how little faith everyone has in Zeus to keep his Oath (which, again, is completely understandable), but you know what else it shows??

No One Thought Poseidon OR Hades Would Break Their Oath. The God of the Underworld, who is often blamed for all their misery and grief, and the God of the Sea, who is often feared for the many deaths and storms he causes, have more Demigods Believing in their INTEGRITY than Zeus, who has the JUSTICE DOMAIN as one of his Epithets!

I just feel like This fact should be brought up more in some Fanfics. I want a fic where, idk, the gods are reacting to the PJO story and someone points out this fact bc of Percy's Claiming Scene Reaction, and I want Zeus to be OFFENDED and Poseidon & Hades to be Smug and Hera to be like "well, of COURSE they think you'd break it again." And yeah

(Holds up this information) I just think it's neat

[just-some-random-blogger]

Could I pretty please request a cregan fanfic, where he gets jealous/possessive over the reader? I adore the way you write him! Thank you so much for your time❤️❤️

A/N: this has been in my drafts for a while now. i did a birthday poll and cregan did not win by any means but its my birthday and its storming and im sad and i just want someone to be kind to me. i hope you like this nonnie

Flicker

One could easily say that Lord Cregan Stark was a fair person. He is just and generous with the decisions he makes for his people. But if the matter is with his bride, there is no just or generous, only selfish and greedy; he has no inclination to share.

Cregan Stark x Reader | 1k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, irrational!cregan lol, fluff?, typos, etc.

Cregan clenches his jaw at the sight of you from across the yard. Not one, but two young lords are hot on your heels. They have not let up tailing you since they've arrived and, what's worse, is that you have been so terribly temperate with them.

The Lord Of Winterfell is beside himself with jealousy, and as the hour grows later, the cloud over him grows darker.

He could not blame those... young lords for acting a moth drawn to flame, in fact, he understood perfectly, but he can blame them for taking up your time. This was a harvest festival after all. How can Lady Stark make her rounds with two shadows weighing her down?

Just as you giggle at whatever nonsense was spoken to you, you turn and find not two faces but one broad back. Cregan grumbles, "boys."

The young lords, with their grins, nod at their liege lord, "Lord Stark."

"I'm sure my wife has enjoyed your company, but, it is nigh time for her to entertain other matters."

You come to your husband's side. He turns to you, seeing your smile's been replaced with raised brows. His own furrow.

"Come now, my lord," one of the two speak, "we were just telling our dear lady the folklo-"

"My dear lady has much else to do," Cregan interrupts, voice louder than necessary. He rolls his shoulders back, and suddenly the greatsword on his back is more apparent than it was moment ago.

Though the two knew the Lord was not quick to resort to violence, they knew a threat when they saw one and understood that it was time for them to depart, so they do.

Your face contorts. You watch your husband's nostrils flair after the two leave, his hot breath condensing with the cold air. He turns to you and you expect him to give you a talking to. You are frozen in shock when he merely nods and walks away.

Confusion holds your features, so you follow him. Cregan simply goes back to what he was doing however, which was speaking to one of the farmers about the colts in his stables.

You are left confused, and honestly hurt by the strange treatment from him. After realizing he did not actually want you around him, you find something else to do. Cregan, though kept constantly preoccupied, keeps a close watch, and he is glad that no one lingers longer than they should this time around.

By the end of the day, when you are home eating supper, there is a tension between you two that only you can feel. Cregan is happily finishing his meal when you call out to him.

He averts his attention from his nearly empty bowl to you, "yes, my love?"

You press your lips together, doubting the otherwise plain way the pet name falls from his lips. You procure the gift you'd ben keeping on your lap the whole dinner, pushing it across the table to your husband.

Cregan's brows quirk at the wrapped object. He unfolds it, finding the gift to be a handful of candies. He turns back with a smile, "sweeties."

You return his smile with a softer one, "your favorite."

He pushes the sweets to the middle of the table, "dessert."

You turn to your bowl; you've only eaten half of your food, but your appetite was no longer present. Your husband takes a sweetie, then pushes it closer to you, urging you to take one. So, you do, popping it in your mouth.

"Thank you, love."

You release a breath, finally finding it in you to relax upon receiving the expression you did, "I take it you are no longer cross with me."

"Cross?" his brows knit, "whoever said I was?"

You raise your brows, "you ignored me the whole time after telling off Lord Caplan and Derby."

Cregan clears his throat, straightening up in his chair, "aye, I told them off, but I was not ignoring you. I told you I would be preoccupied greatly today."

You deflate "... yes," you look around aimlessly, "you did."

Cregan's face hardens. He sighs, pushing his chair back, "come to me."

You stare at him for a moment. Part of you wishes to be difficult but you decide to slowly come over to him. Once you were within arm's reach, he scoops you into him and seals you against his chest.

You instinctively adjust atop him, arm coming around his shoulders while his own circle around your torso. He presses a few kisses on your neck before you lean into him. He rubs your sides, "forgive me if it appeared so, my heart."

You turn to him, frowning, "it did appear so, my lord."

Cregan's brows quirk. My lord? What horror. What pain. He frowns back, eager to set things straight, "how might I make it up to you?"

You ghost your fingertips down his cheek, examining his distraught expression. You lean your forehead against his, "I don't know."

Cregan tightens his hold on you, sighing out, "please. I do not wish to be your lord."

The faintest of chuckles slip past your lips, "mmm, but you are my lord, Lord Stark."

His one hand squeezes your thigh, "do not insult me so cruelly, my love."

You giggle under your breath and cup his cheeks.

Cregan relaxes slightly, but he still urges you with his eyes.

"Very well," you hum, "first, you must confess... were you jealous of the two lords?"

"Yes," he admits unabashedly quick.

You are taken off guard by it. You knit your brows and tilt your head, "w h y ?"

"Why?" he tilts his head the other way, "my person smiles at another. Need I say more?"

You raise a brow in disbelief of his explanation.

Cregan nuzzles against you neck, "I cannot help my feelings. Do not hold it so bitterly against me."

You chuckle and clutch the back of his head, leaning your cheek on him, "now... my dear—"

He perks, pulling away to look at you.

"—why ever would I do such a thing?"

Cregan grins, then peppers kisses across your jaw, "my thoughts exactly."

You push him away, gaining his full attention again, "but there is another thing you must do, silly pup."

His nostrils flare. It is not his favorite pet name, but he'd rather that than my lord. "Name it."

You trace his nose before tapping the tip, "take me to bed."

You yelp at the immediate reaction, as does the chair that crashes behind your husband when he jolts to his feet to carry you back into your quarters.

[dear-aubade]

Oh my good God your writing is absolutely fabulousssss 🤤 The way you write about Joel and his baby girl is sending me into orbit!!! Genuinely I cannot wait to read more of your work 😍 Do you think that you would ever do one where Joel comforts his baby if she got jealous? There’s a few different ways this could go but the idea of him comforting his sweet girl when she’s upset over something like seeing another woman in Jackson hit on him or something makes me think terrible, nsfw thoughts 😆🩷🎀

This was so fun to write, thank you for the ask anon! Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: When you see a woman making a move on Joel and storm out in a flurry of tears, Joel realizes exactly how much he’s been neglecting his baby. He’s determined to make it up to you.

Notes: Smut, oral (f receiving), dom!joel, sub!reader, praise, nicknames (sweetheart, baby, babygirl, little girl, honey, darling, any fanfic-typical nickname Joel has for reader), jealous!reader, oblivious!joel (sorta), semi-public, implied age gap

You were fuming.

It was Tommy’s birthday and Maria had decided to invite the entire town of Jackson to the Tipsy Bison that night to celebrate. The bar was lively with the hum of chatter and small talk, the smell of whiskey and beer curling in the air, paper lanterns hung in a zig-zag pattern across the ceiling.

Normally you would have loved to go out like this. It gave you an excuse to dress up all pretty and do your makeup, maybe even get Joel to abandon his stone-faced stoic facade and go dancing with you after he’d had a couple drinks.

Except for the fact that the night had gotten off to a horrible start.

The past few weeks Joel had been busy. Very busy. Which you didn’t blame him for, of course—he was one of the town’s strongest working men and the people needed him to help with patrol. But recently a worker at the Bison had sprained his ankle and Seth had asked Joel to help cover him while he healed, which meant that now Joel was gone during the day for patrol and several nights during the week while he fixed barstools or whatever it was Seth had him working on.

The nights he actually was home, he usually went straight to bed with you after placing a kiss to your lips and gave a murmured, “Goodnight.” You couldn’t even remember the last time he’d touched you, really touched you.

And you knew that Joel was a good man, that the reason he was so exhausted all the time now was because he was doing work for the community.

It didn’t stop his girl from getting a little needy and missing him.

Tonight you had taken advantage of the outing. You’d made sure to do your makeup immaculately, with your lips glossed and eyes lined to make them look all doe-like and pretty, how Joel liked them. You’d curled your hair and pinned the top part of it back in a half-updo with a white satin bow. You’d even worn a new dress that you’d traded for a couple days before. It was baby pink, hugging your bust and waist before flaring out the smallest bit around your hips. The short hem paired with your white heels showed off your legs very nicely.

You’d thought that maybe if you put enough effort into your appearance tonight, Joel would want to touch you no matter how tired he was.

Unfortunately, so much self-grooming had caused you and Joel to be a little late, which meant rushing out the door and speed-walking over to the Bison so you two weren’t more tardy than you already were, which meant there wasn’t time for Joel to appreciate his princess in her pretty dress.

Now that you guys were here at the bar, he was hardly looking at you. His large hand was still holding yours so you wouldn’t get lost in the crowd, but he hadn’t even said anything about how you looked tonight. Did he even care? It made you want to whine and cry or stamp your little heeled foot against the floor until he paid attention to you.

But you didn’t. You wanted to be his good girl…and you didn’t want to ruin Tommy’s birthday, either, by making a scene.

Joel kept craning his neck around to look for his brother, and when he found Tommy and Maria standing at the bar, he guided you over with him with a hand on the small of your back.

“Joel!” Tommy exclaimed, expression bright as he embraced his brother—overly bright. It was clear he’d already had a few glasses.

Joel slapped Tommy on the back. “Happy Birthday.”

“Happy Birthday, Tommy,” you said softly right as Maria was thanking the both of you for coming.

“What did you get me?” Tommy asked his brother.

Joel grunted as he put his hand back on your waist. “Right to the point, aren’t you?”

“A book? A shirt? A razor? I’ve been needin’ a new one of those, mine broke just yesterday—“

“Boots,” Joel said. “Traded for ‘em last week. They’re back at the house.”

Tommy grinned. “Awe, now you’ve just ruined the surprise.”

Joel rolled his eyes. “Tommy—“

“Oh, that reminds me! There’s somethin’ I need to show you real quick.” Tommy turned to you. “Mind if I borrow him for a few?”

You frowned. “Well—“

Without waiting for a response Tommy dragged Joel away, heading for some unseen destination across the bar. You couldn’t tell where they were going from your position in the crowd. You tried not to wilt.

A moment later Maria handed you a drink. “You look nice,” she commented.

“At least someone noticed,” you grumbled, taking a sip. The alcohol burned your throat.

“Joel giving you trouble?”

You shrugged.

Maria waited for you to elaborate. When you didn’t, she pressed. “I was going to go sit with some friends over there.” She gestured to her right somewhere. “Want to join?”

You sighed, then shook your head. “I don’t think so. Thank you Maria, but I don’t want my mood to infect your guys’.”

“Well…alright. If you’re sure.” And with that, she left you to your own devices.

It had been hours. Or…maybe a half hour. Forty five minutes? You weren’t sure. Enough time for you to have made a home for yourself on one of the barstools with several now-empty liquor glasses in front of you.

And Joel still wasn’t back.

Your toes were starting to go numb in your tight shoes even just sitting there, so you huffed and got to your feet—you only swayed a little. You were determined to find Joel and make him dance with you.

You weaved in and out of the crowd as you searched. Where had Tommy taken Joel? Was it….this way? That way? You couldn’t think very clearly right now. How many glasses had you….?

You finally spotted the back of Joel’s head through the throng of partygoers. Your eyes lit up and you started to move in that direction, ready to tug on Joel’s hand and stand on your tiptoes for a kiss. Why had you even been upset again?

You squirmed between two people to move closer and—

There was a woman beside Joel. She had honey brown hair and keen, wise eyes. She was older than you—much older. Closer to Joel’s age. Her name was Sharon…Shannon…something?

You froze as she laughed at something someone said and put a hand on Joel’s arm.

Your eyes went wide and you didn’t know whether you wanted to scream or start crying. Joel suddenly turned his head and met your gaze.

Your body decided for you. Tears pooled on your lashes and you turned to duck out of the bar before you made even more of a fool of yourself.

The crisp, cool night air greeted you as you escaped the Tipsy Bison’s warmth. You sniffled and kept walking, not even really sure where you were going.

“Darlin’?” Joel’s voice reached you and you heard footsteps from behind.

You sped up.

But Joel was Joel, and so he quickly caught up to you with his long legs. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Not now, Joel.”

“Hey.” He grabbed you and turned you around, his grip gentle but firm. “Sweetheart, what happened?”

“Get offa me,” you protested, trying to push away.

“What’re you…” He paused. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” you whined. You broke out of his grip and kept walking, turning around the corner of the Bison and walking around the back of the building. “Leave me alone.”

“Baby.”

At his tone you stopped. Even though you were embarrassed and upset and didn’t want to see his face, a small part of you still wanted to be obedient.

He came around your front and lifted your chin so you were looking up at him. His stern gaze melted away and his eyes softened. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

Your bottom lip quivered. “What’s wrong?” You sniffled and took a step back. His hand fell away.

“What’s wrong is that you don’t pay attention to me anymore. You work all day and all night and it feels like you hardly have time for me now. I even got all dressed up tonight for you, wore a new dress and everything, a-and you didn’t say anything, didn’t even look—“

You blinked and more tears ran down your face. “And now I jus’ saw Sharon or Shannon or whoever that woman was flirting with you, and you didn’t do anything—”

You cut off as your face crumpled. You looked down, shivering from the cold.

“I know she’s older and…and probably smarter, and she—”

“Whoa, whoa, sweetheart.” Joel tenderly gripped your upper arms, ducking his head to try and get you to meet your gaze. “What…what are you thinkin’? You think she could ever compare to my babygirl?”

You opened your mouth to respond but he prattled on before you had the chance. “The moment she touched me I pulled away. I don’t know if you didn’t see or what, but…” He shook his head. “Baby, I only have eyes for you. You know that.”

He wiped your tears with his thumbs. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around more often. It’s just until Seth’s friend heals up that I’ll be gone. I should be out of bar duty by next week.”

“And what about tonight?” you whined.

At that, Joel smiled. “You really think I didn’t notice how pretty you looked, sweet girl? I was trying not to get a hard on in the middle of Tommy’s party.”

You almost smiled. Almost. But you were still mad about Shannon, and you still felt needy and lonely and you were pretty sure you were way more than tipsy and you still kind of felt like punching Joel in his handsome face a little bit.

He leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “So sorry that I made my baby feel alone….and needy…and neglected…” He punctuated each word with a kiss to a different part of your face—your cheek, your nose, your lips.

Now that you were alone, Joel’s eyes roved over your body shamelessly. “Look at you….” he cooed. “So beautiful.” His hands fell to your waist. “And this pretty new dress.” His eyes looked lower, down to your feet, and he grinned. “Your shoes match your bow. You said you dressed up just for me?”

You sniffed and nodded. “M’still a little mad at you.”

“I know, pretty girl.” He kissed your jaw. “Why don’t you let me make it up to you?”

That sobered you up real quick. “Wh….here?”

“Why not?” Joel pressed your back to the wall of the building. “No one’s around.”

“But someone could—”

“Shhh.” He kissed lower this time, at the skin beneath your jaw. “Here’s what’s going to happen.” He pressed a kiss lower. “I’m going to make my little girl feel good right here and now so she doesn’t have to wait another minute.” Another kiss. “After that I’m gonna carry her back to our bed….” Another. “And there I’m gonna make love to her until she gets absolutely sick of it.”

You squirmed as his beard dragged along your skin the lower and lower he kissed, lips now at your collarbone. “I-I don’t know if I’d ever get sick of it….”

He nipped at your skin and you gasped. “Then you had better have enough energy to be up all night, sweetheart.”

Joel kissed down the center of your clavicle, the middle of your breasts, down your tummy over your dress….soon he was kneeling before you, looking up to meet your gaze with those dark brown eyes of his.

“Joel—” you said, still a bit uncertain.

“Lean back against the wall, babygirl.”

You hesitated, but obeyed. Any complaints or protests you had against the situation dissolved as soon as Joel lifted one of your legs and pressed a kiss to the inside of your ankle.

His lips traveled upward. He kissed along your calf….the inside of your knee…your thigh….soon he pressed the skirt of your dress up to your waist.

He paused.

Then:

“Oh, sweetheart.” It was nearly a groan. His eyes flicked up to yours. “No panties?”

You smiled shyly. The truth was you’d forgotten almost entirely about that—it had been a quick last minute decision to forego wearing anything beneath your dress, but seeing his eyes dark with lust now….you definitely did not regret it.

“I’m a little glad I didn’t have time to look you over properly before coming here,” he murmured, lips skimming your hip bone. “If I knew you weren’t wearin’ anything under this we would have never left the house.”

You could feel his breath on your inner thigh now as he moved his head and you whimpered. “Joel.”

“Shhh, no whining honey, ‘less it’s about how good it feels.” He placed a kiss right above the patch of skin above your bud. “Just let that pretty head of yours empty—I’ll take care of you.”

Whatever you were about to say in response left your head as Joel hiked your leg over his shoulder and started to lick at your clit.

You gasped and one of your hands threaded through his salt and pepper curls to steady yourself. His tongue flicked against your swollen, needy button teasingly. Your lower belly simmered with the heat of crackling coals.

Joel’s large hand found purchase on your hip and he squeezed in response to each noise that escaped you. He was soon embracing you with his full mouth, tongue licking between your folds, at your bud, into you. It was as if he was everywhere, helping himself to your taste and enjoying every bit of it.

“Oh,” you sighed, pushing your hips into his mouth involuntarily and his head bobbed in time with his motions.

Each flick, each twist of his tongue had you nearly writhing, and you were pretty sure it was only Joel’s hand on your hip keeping you from collapsing.

“Joel, I—it’s—oh please, I can’t—” You were babbling mindlessly, head empty, unsure of what you were even really saying.

Joel just chuckled against you, the vibrations running through your core making you gasp.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he murmured as he sucked and licked at your wetness. “‘S like you were made for me—just keep rockin’ your hips—oh, good girl.”

He lapped at you as you let out a high-pitched whine. You were there, right there, with his nose nudging at your clit and his warm wet tongue pushing into you and he was shaking his head and oh—

You bit your knuckle to muffle your moan as you came, your folds drenched, your lower belly warm, your legs shaking, your clit tingling.

“That’s it, that’s it.” Joel kept murmuring praises as you came down from your high, hips squirming from oversensitivity.

He placed soft and slow kisses on your right hip before rising and gripping your waist. Your legs nearly buckled.

Joel chuckled and caught you as you stumbled a bit, sweeping you up in his arms, the ease in which he lifted you making your belly swoop.

He pressed his lips to your hairline in an achingly sweet kiss. “How’s my girl feeling now?”

You let out a happy hum and rested your head on his shoulder. “Better.”

“Good.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he started to walk, carrying you like you were a princess. You supposed that you were, in a sort of way. You were his.

“Don’t go fallin’ asleep yet, babygirl.”

You hadn’t even realized that you’d been drifting off until he had said something. It wasn’t your fault. The gentle sway of him walking with you had rocked you to sleep…

“Sorry.” You yawned.

“I’m the one who’s sorry, honey,” he said. He held you closer. “And you gotta stay awake with me. I got a lot more I wanna do to apologize to my princess.”

The low voice he used made your heart flutter.

You were in for a very long night.

[catsharkie-old]

what if ds9 had tumble

capsisko

the wormhole :) 

i-identify-starships-in-posts follow

klingon bird of prey, cloaked.

capsisko

?

(2373 notes)

skrainfanboy5997notdukat follow

Gul Dukat did nothing wrong.

wormzallday

f

juuuuulian

u

(9208 notes)

miles-edward-obrien

I thought I had work today, but no, the time loop.

(0 notes)

ziyart 

STATUS UPDATE, I WON THE ART COMPETITION! 

#THERE WAS NO ONE ELSE IN THE COMPETITION!

(9 notes)

kiranerys

If another thing breaks on this station i swear to the prophets

kiranerys 

the replicator just sent someone to the infirmary. our doctor is running on negative 60 hours of sleep at least

kiranerys

i just want a raktajino

kiranerys

@miles-edward-obrien get your ass in here

(23 notes)

sponsored 

come to quarks, quarks is fun, come right now, don’t walk, run!

miles-edward-obrien

I thought I had work today, but no, the time loop.

(0 notes)

juuuuulian

no sleep for 55 hours and counting!

juuuuulian

56 hours and counting!

juuuuulian

57 hours!

juuuuulian

where is miles

wormzallday

julian please

(7 notes)

n0gg

ah yes. me. my bestie. and his 50k word fanfic draft.

jakeosaurus

YOU asked ME if you could beta

n0gg

its funnier if i blame you

#lol

(93 notes)

juuuuulian

no sleep for 55 hours and counting!

juuuuulian

56 hours and counting!

juuuuulian

57 hours!

juuuuulian

where is miles

(7 notes)

ziyart

MY FRIENDS TOLD ME I CAN TYPE IN ALL CAPS!

# IM NEVER GOING TO TALK IN LOWERCASE EVER AGAIN!

(3 notes)

miles-edward-obrien

I thought I had work today, but no, the time loop.

(0 notes)

garaksclothiers

So many accusations in my inbox! You people certainly are creative.

odododo

I know you’ve killed before. You’ve barely tried to hide it

garaksclothiers

Oh? You hate me and my whimsy?

odododo 

I’m going to make a callout document on you.

(12 notes)

jakeosaurus

if the voles had subspace i think it would look like this

skittering-002

i love being in conduits undisturbed

pittering-pattering follow

I CAST PLASMA BEAM 10000 DEATHS

skittering-002

AHHHHH

(201 tiny notes)

the-scuttler

scuttling

the scuttler

easy website

(10032 tiny notes)

n0gg

the station is under attack stop vole blogging

jakeosaurus

do you think skittering-002 and pittering-pattering were in love

(38 notes)

deepspacenineofficial

Apologies for the high pitched whining! Our shields are activated, we are currently under attack. There is also an ion storm passing through.

miles-edward-obrien

If I get stuck in a time vortex again I swear to god

miles-edward-obrien

FUCK

(203 notes)

deepspacenineofficial

Apologies for the high pitched whining! Our shields are activated, we are currently under attack. There is also an ion storm passing through.

miles-edward-obrien

If I get stuck in a time vortex again I swear to god

(203 notes)

jakeosaurus

if the voles had subspace i think it would look like this

skittering-002

i love being in conduits undisturbed

pittering-pattering follow

I CAST PLASMA BEAM 10000 DEATHS

skittering-002

AHHHHH

(201 tiny notes)

the-scuttler

scuttling

the scuttler

easy website

(10032 tiny notes)

(38 notes)

n0gg

wormzallday

i really wish women were real

(1348 notes)

kiranerys

guldukat follow

#YES

(1024766 notes)

[decojellyfish]

First. I love your work! Just the whole writing and stuff is so AAAAAAAA wonderful.

Second. Idk if its a gonna be a bother or something but i reread the Bonbon fanfic and thought if you could do a part 2. With the idea of because ghost is already a rescue price then brings another rescue home like gaz or soap.

I HOPE IM NOT BOTHERING YOU IM SORRYYYY

You're not a bother at all! In fact, I should be apologizing to you for taking so long with this! I hope it was worth the wait, enjoy! This is the official part 2 of Bonbon! (Go give it a read if you're interested :))

------

Boom! Boom!

Hybrid AU! TF141 (Retired) Guard Dog! Ghost x (Retired) Fight Dog! Soap x Kitten! Reader x Owner! Price Reader is only addressed as 'you' !!No Romance Towards Reader For Obvious Purposes!!

SFW ~ Fluff

Warnings: Occasional swearing? There’s barely any

𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴: "Cute Circus - Twintail Tsundere" 0:09 ━●────────── 2:47 ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷

───♡───────────── Beginning It had been a year since you’d been adopted by Price and a few things have changed.

First of all, you had forgotten what it felt like to be starving or what you smelled like when they’d first found you. Bubble baths were a routine part of your week, and you loved playing with your toys and scratching posts. Sometimes, when you’d be mad, you would take it out on your scratching post, or if you were feeling rebellious, you would commit the cardinal sin of doing it on the couch. But you also loved snuggling. Whether it was Price or Ghost, you loved curling up on their lap under a blanket with one of your toys. Sometimes it would be the only thing that would get you to fall asleep.

Price enjoyed the extra company and finally had someone to accompany Ghost while he was gone. Price had never really taken on a father role in his life until you came into the picture. At points, he felt like the best father figure anyone could ask for; other times, he wondered if he knew anything at all about parenting. Sometimes, he felt like he was being too mean to you, snuggling with you after a small quarrel as an act of both apologizing and forgiving.

Ghost, on the other hand, felt as if you weren’t disciplined enough. He felt like you were a little brat, getting into trouble all the time with the blame usually falling on Ghost’s shoulders. You were a little angel in Price’s eyes, only to turn around and kick Ghost out of his usual spots around the house, running it like you owned the place. But only he was allowed to be your bully. Any time you, him, and Price were out and another hybrid tried to get smart with you, a kitten, Price would have to physically hold Ghost back as he barked up a storm about how he was gonna turn them into fish food by drowning them.

But all in all, things were nice. 

Then came along the mutt from the forest.

You had been playing in the yard for about an hour, Ghost was supervising you to make sure you didn’t run off into the woods. He was bored, but still kept his ears perked for any sign of danger… which he quickly caught a whiff of. He stood up from his seated position in the grass and made his way over to where the mouth of the forest began.

There was a small forest that resided in the backyard of Price’s neighborhood. You were only ever allowed to go in there under the supervision of both Ghost and Price. So when you saw Ghost slowly venturing out into the woods, you knew something was up. Your little ears perked up, your fluffy tail swishing with childlike curiosity.

So naturally, as the little kitten you were, you did the sensible thing.

You silently followed behind Ghost, not alerting him of your presence. He was too focused on finding the danger and keeping it from coming any closer to his family.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Ghost was following a certain scent, it seemed to belong to a burly one, built similarly to him. They smelled sweaty, musky, and… scared? No, angry. No, scared? A mix of both? It was a marbled mess of both emotions.

His ears twitched in one direction, sensing a rapidly approaching figure. He quickly turned his body to face the figure head-on, ready to attack. His guard dog instincts kicked in with a small snarl as he eyed the violent dog approaching. That’s when a little thing caught his attention in the corner of his eye.

It was you!

What the hell were you doing here?! How did you follow him so silently?? Probably because you were a cat, but that’s beside the point. He looked at your tiny form with wide eyes, “What are you doing here?! Get back to the house! Now-!” He was cut off when he suddenly got tackled.

The two bulky figures collided, rolling and flying across the rough ground, causing you to yelp in alarm.

Ghost let out a growl, grabbing the figure by their shoulders and forcing them away, ready to bark their arse off before something made him stop. His eyes were wide and his mouth awkwardly hanging open. The figure, another dog-hybrid, had also stopped and was now catching his breath as he stared down at Ghost with a similar expression.

It was silent for a few moments, just the two canines panting for air with their bewildered expressions. The mysterious pup was first to break the silence.

“Ghost?”

“Soap?” Ghost replied, just as astonished as Soap was.

“Ghost!” Soap rejoiced, pulling his brother from another mother close into a hug. “Oi, where’ve ya been?? How’s retirement goin’???” He had a giant smile on his face, his tail wagging so much that it was causing his hips to move side to side as well slightly. 

“Eh, it’s been good. Eventful. Why the hell are you all roughed up? They kick you out or somethin’?” “Uhh, it’s complicated.” Soap chuckled. “Let’s jus’ say, I got roped into underground fightin’ and now I’m also retired.” He laughed a little more while Ghost looked at him slightly confusedly.

“Oh, hey! No mask!” Soap pointed out, now holding Ghost’s head and examining his face. “Aye, I knew you were a blondie!” “Yes, Soap, being retired means there’s no need to hide my identity.” Ghost sighed as he was forcefully examined by his old friend.

Soap smiled from dog-ear to dog-ear as he finally got to see the face of his good friend, looking at each scar, wrinkle, and bump his face had to offer. “You’re quite the looker, Ghost.” He smirked before he was abruptly attacked by a little thing.

You meowed and hissed as you latched onto the weird man who decided to attack the man who was like a big brother in your eyes. Your claws were tiny, but you spent a fair amount of time with your scratching posts so you knew how to hook them in. The man yowled and reached back, quickly plucking you off of him as his chipped ears pinned to the back of his head.

You kept hissing and scratching the air in his direction while he and Ghost looked at each other, Soap was obviously more confused while Ghost was trying to hold back a chuckle. “Who the hell is this??” “Uh… they’re with me, Soap.”

Soap looked at his best friend with eyes as wide and big as saucers, “...you had a kid?!” He looked at you again before looking back down, “...with a cat?!”

Ghost just had to stifle his chuckles, his head slightly shaking back and forth. He had to contain his laughter before finally telling Soap the whole story about you.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Price had finally returned home after a long, tiring shift at work. With a soft thud, he set his bag down near the front door and took his coat off.

“I’m home!” He called out, his gravelly voice laced with a hint of exhaustion. His eyes perked up at the muffled sound of you playing outside, with Ghost he assumed. Your happy giggles and squeals, an occasional shriek of surprise followed by more laughter. It made him smile knowing you were getting proper time outside despite the temperatures gradually decreasing as autumn approached.

Walking to the back door, Price opened it expecting to see two hybrids playing in the backyard but was surprised when he saw three, even after trying to recount them to make sure he wasn’t losing his mind. For a moment Price thought it was a feral hybrid who had planned on attacking his family, but realized you weren’t in any danger while Ghost was still supervising.

You were playing with the feral hybrid, and he was playing with you. He would chase you, you would chase him, ride on his back while he ran around, and laugh as he put on a show for you as he chased his tail in rapid, small circles. Still, Price was your father (in a sense) so he had to step in.

“Ghost,” he shouted at the blonde pup, “What’s all this?” Ghost looked over at the old man, offering a reassuring smirk. “Just an old work buddy, or friend. Can we keep ‘im?” He chided, his tail slightly wagging. Price only sighed, already knowing there was only one correct answer.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

So now, this is your current life. Ghost watching as you and Soap play around in the living room, lazily attempting to play with you on the couch, and Price shouting from the kitchen, as he’s making dinner, to be careful and not knock anything over.

Soap would always get this guilty look on his face when he was told this, knowing he was the culprit behind the murder of a few innocent standing vases and decor.

You loved playing with him, especially when he would play this game where he pretended you were a bomb that he had to drop (safely onto the couch, of course). He would do a dramatic countdown, “3…2…1!” and then plop you right onto the couch cushion then the two of you would chant, “Boom! Boom!”

Then, he would tickle you relentlessly until Ghost barked at him to stop because he didn’t like your little giggle-shriek sounds. Soap would stop, then make Ghost his next target by scratching behind his scarred ears. This caused Ghost to kick one of his legs uncontrollably, making you giggle.

There were times when you didn’t like Soap as much. Sometimes, he would take a bit of food from your plate without you noticing, making you through a small hissyfit when he finally took a noticeable amount. Other times, he would bark at you to stop scratching at the armrests of the couch before gesturing to all the other scratching posts you had.

In return, you would give him… the silent treatment.

Which lasted about 5 or 10 minutes until you asked him to play with you, which he happily agreed to with a small chuckle.

But the most enjoyable part of your days now was in the evenings after dinner. When you’d be curled up between Price and Ghost, your head in Price’s lap as he kept a hand scratching your head, and Ghost keeping a hand on your back or belly (depending on which position you were resting in) as he felt the subtle rise and fall of your lungs as you drifted off. 

Soap usually sat on the floor, his head close to yours, so your relaxed purrs went directly into his ear. This made his tail wag with a repetitive soft thumping. All of you were probably settled down for a movie of some sort or just stayed in the living room for a small chat. Not like you were paying any attention though, you were just there to fall asleep.

However, other times, Price would read you a bedtime story instead. With Ghost and Soap sitting by you for extra security as you fell asleep that way, still loudly purring and making biscuits out of your blankie.

They would all wait for your purrs to fade out and biscuits to slow to an eventual stop, signaling that you had fallen asleep, and now was the tricky part of tiptoeing away from your little cat bed without waking you up.

Once they were successful, they would close the door, leaving it open with a small crack to allow a little light to pour in. They all snuck one last peek at you before leaving with a content sigh or grunt.

They loved how you took them on all sorts of adventures with occasional mischief.

They loved their lives

And they loved you. ───♡───────────── End

I hope you enjoyed it, everypony!! Thank you all so much for your patience. Feel free to leave a request! (I make no promises they'll be finished quickly though ;0; I still need to go to college and make art lol) ------ Taglist: @venavanup @draculauraspage @tf141gloryhole @obnoxiousbag @chanel-princess-world @ssc7514

If you would like to be added to the taglist so you can read my latest fics, let me know! Thank you :)

[siriuslyobsessedwithfiction]

"Siege and Storm is boring, nothing happened there.", "I only remember Nikolai showing up". LIES. That's propaganda, actually. That's Grishaverse fans not wanting to reread the trilogy and especially that book because they've crafted a fanfic in their heads they're trying to pass as canon with encouragement from the author, actually.

Because rereading Siege and Storm would raise quite a few unsavory questions. For example:

Why is Mal drinking, gambling and fighting Grisha 24/7 instead of performing his duty as Alina's captain of the guard? (And don't give me "he was a stressed boy" bullshit, it was war, everyone was stressed. And everyone was coddling Mal. He was going hunting with nobles, living in luxury and insulting the prince).

Why did Mal fail his duty as Alina's protector and fell asleep on his watch, drunk, and didn't notice someone going in and out Alina's chamber?

Why did Alina run away in her pajamas aimlessly in the city, and when the crowd of worshippers started tearing her apart alive, she let them. Why did she attempt suicide? (Hint: she and Mal had a big fight earlier because Mal was being a drunk shithead. Alina still blamed herself).

Why did Mal slut-shame Alina one second and virgin-shame her the next? All while bragging about being with many women and kissing Zoya.

Why did the Darkling not manipulate Alina even though he visited her a lot through the tether? Why did he settle for petty little smirks and winks and silently kept her company through the long nights? Why did he admit he was lonely and stayed with her because she was lonely too? Where was loverboy Mal?

Why were the Bataar twins (especially Tolya) acting so weird towards Alina? Why were they brainwashed worshipers and viewed her only as a saint? Why is Tolya on his knees, shivering when Alina just pats his shoulder?

Oh, Nikolai is just an ambitious, conniving cunt who wants the throne, not a selfless fairytale prince? And he's only an improvement from his father and brother because the bar is so low it's in the seventh circle of hell? (Still the best character in that book).

Why is everyone so okay with murdering the Darkling's Grisha as if they aren't the same Grisha who they lived and fought alongside for years? Why is no one protesting that while the Lantsov prince is eager to engage in a civil war because he has big guns from his pirate privateer adventures , it's the oppressed minority (Grisha) who are dying the most?

Why isn't Alina more concerned that everyone turned on Grisha the second the times of trouble started, as if everyone was merely expecting an excuse? An absence of strong leader, so they could start sham trials and execute Grisha left and right.

[reveryfics]

Hii! This is my first time requesting (i love your fanfics! Truly a work of art 😌)

Could I request some john walker x male reader angst/fluff something along the lines of the two used to be together until john became captain america and the whole ‘image change’ made the reader upset and after a while john gets pretty beat up at a fight and the reader (emergency contact) get called to help watch over him so he can heal👉👈 you can totally change it up! but im searching for some good ol angsty relationship drama with a bit of ‘missing the person who stayed through it all” fluff ending

Emergency Contact

John Walker x Male Reader

Summary: The accusations about John's time as Captain America had been a wedge between you, slowly eroding your relationship and consuming him. You'd had to leave, for both your sakes. But when the hospital called, and you were still his emergency contact, there was no way you could just leave him alone.

A/N: First off, thank you so much that means a lot to me. Secondly, I absolutely adore this idea just everything about it is perfect. Honestly the amount of John Walker fics I've posted, should be a crime but I can't help myself.

TW: Angst - Injury - Hurt/Comfort - Fluff

The weight of memory pressed down, heavy and suffocating. You remembered John Walker, the man who once stirred beside you each morning, his eyes still heavy with sleep, finding yours as if you were the sunrise itself. In his gaze, you were the singular, indispensable truth, the only thing that ever truly mattered. He held you then with a fierce tenderness, a silent promise that if he were ever to let go, you might simply unravel into the ether, lost forever. But the cruelest lesson life taught was the inevitable end to all beautiful things.

Your love, once a vibrant, unyielding flame, had flickered and dimmed under the relentless assault of his duty. The military, with its cold, unyielding demands, had chipped away at the edges, but it was the mantle of Captain America, the government's appointed patriot, that truly tore at the seams of your shared world. It was as if a ravenous entity had latched onto John, devouring him piece by agonizing piece. Every decision, every calculated risk, every horrible mistake etched itself onto his soul, particularly those committed under the guise of 'Captain America,' with that damned shield, once a symbol of hope, now a bearer of shadows, in his hand.

The image was seared into your memory, a grotesque masterpiece of horror. The sickening crimson stain on that iconic shield, the chilling, vacant resolve on John's face as he brought it down—you saw it unfold on the news, a public execution of innocence. That moment was the tipping point, not marked by the usual storm of shouts or bitter accusations that had become a familiar landscape in your arguments. There was no fight, no theatrical explosion of pain. Just the quiet, devastating act of you packing your bag, each folded garment a whispered farewell. "This isn't going to work anymore," you had murmured, your voice thick with unshed tears, "not when you're becoming someone I don't know." He hadn't fought you, hadn't pleaded. He simply stood there, a broken sentinel in his own home, watching you leave. He knew you were right. And even as your footsteps receded, taking with them the last vestiges of shared joy, he still loved you. His boyfriend. His everything. And he was the one, in his brokenness, to blame.

Fragments of you still clung to John’s life, ghosts in the machine of his solitude. A faded photograph on his nightstand, catching the moonlight; a forgotten shirt, still carrying the faint scent of your cologne, buried deep in his laundry basket; your name and number, stubbornly clinging to his phone's contacts; your bright, infectious smile, perpetually frozen as his lock screen, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck in a moment of pure, unadulterated happiness. He'd still text you, a desperate, almost pathetic plea into the void: "How was your day?" He knew you'd never respond. And deep down, in the fractured landscape of his heart, he understood that this silent treatment, this deliberate absence, inflicted more pain on you than anything he had endured.

There had been a moment, a quiet, desolate surrender, when John had finally accepted it. Accepted that it was truly over, that the chasm between them was too vast to bridge. It was his fault, all of it. He had allowed his ego, that insidious serpent, to coil around his judgment, blinding him to what truly mattered. It wasn't the revered title, the iconic shield, the fleeting glory of a nation's flawed hero. No, it was you, and only you. He had fucked that up with a catastrophic precision. But now, as he lay sprawled on the cold, wet concrete, the rain a relentless drumbeat against his fading consciousness, his breath ragged, body screaming with an agony that even the super-soldier serum couldn't quell, blood blooming darkly against the pavement, his fractured mind could only conjure one image: yours.

It was late, the world outside hushed and heavy with the promise of dawn. You were in bed, cocooned in the familiar comfort of one of John’s old, oversized shirts, paired with those worn sweatpants you’d shamelessly "stolen" from him the very first night you’d ever stayed over. You might not be with him anymore, but God, did you still love him. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to hate him, to despise the man he had become, and a small, resentful part of you did. But the love, stubborn and resilient, remained.

A soft sigh escaped your lips, disturbing the quiet air, just as your phone buzzed on the nightstand. The illuminated screen displayed an unfamiliar number, a generic healthcare identifier. A cold dread, immediate and visceral, began to thrum against your ribs. You answered, your voice a little hoarse. A woman's calm, professional voice on the other end asked for you by name before delivering the news: John was in the hospital. You were his listed emergency contact.

She didn't need to plead, didn't need to convince you. The words were barely out of her mouth before you were already out of bed, your hands fumbling for shoes, then your jacket, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your sternum. "I'm on my way," you murmured, the words barely audible as you ended the call, already rushing for the front door of your apartment, propelled by a desperate, heartbreaking hope. You sprinted down the stairs, the familiar path to your car a blur, your mind consumed by the ghost of a smile, the memory of a touch, and the terrifying unknown.

The sterile scent of antiseptic hit you first, a sharp, unwelcome assault on your senses as you burst through the automatic doors of the emergency room. The fluorescent lights hummed with a cold indifference, casting harsh shadows that seemed to swallow every hint of warmth. The air was thick with hushed whispers, the rhythmic beep of monitors, and the distant cries that spoke of pain and uncertainty. You approached the reception desk, your voice barely a whisper as you gave John's name.

The nurse, a kind-faced woman with tired eyes, directed you to a waiting area, a small purgatory filled with anxious faces and the muted drone of a wall-mounted TV. But you couldn't sit. The restless energy coursing through your veins demanded movement, a physical outlet for the tumultuous storm brewing inside you. Every passing second felt like an eternity, each distant siren a fresh stab of fear. You paced, your mind replaying fragmented memories: John’s booming laugh, the way his hand felt in yours, the quiet intimacy of shared mornings. And then, the more recent ones: the strained silence, the haunted look in his eyes, the undeniable chasm that had grown between you.

Finally, a doctor appeared, his face a mask of professional solemnity. He called your name, and your breath hitched. "Mr. Walker is stable," he began, and the immediate relief that washed over you was so profound it made your knees weak. "He sustained multiple injuries – several broken ribs, a collapsed lung, and significant bruising. There was also some internal bleeding, but we’ve managed to stop it. He's incredibly lucky."

Lucky. The word echoed in the sterile air, sounding hollow and almost mocking. You pressed for details, a torrent of questions spilling from your lips. How did it happen? Was he alone? The doctor explained, carefully, that it appeared to be a brutal assault, likely in connection with his recent activities. He couldn't elaborate, citing patient confidentiality, but the implication hung heavy in the air. John, still tangled in the web of his Captain America past, still paying the price.

You were led to his room, a small, quiet space where the only sound was the steady beep-beep-beep of a heart monitor. John lay in the bed, pale and still, a tangle of tubes and wires connecting him to machines that hummed softly. His face, usually so strong and expressive, was bruised and slack with unconsciousness. A bandage was wrapped around his head, and one arm was in a sling. He looked so fragile, so utterly unlike the man who once projected an aura of unyielding strength.

You pulled a chair close to his bedside, the plastic cold against your fingers. Hesitantly, you reached out, your hand hovering over his uninjured one. You wanted to touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin, to somehow bridge the distance that had grown between you. But you hesitated, a lifetime of unspoken words and unresolved pain holding you back.

Hours bled into each other. You sat there, a silent vigil, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. The initial rush of adrenaline had subsided, leaving behind a dull ache of exhaustion and a profound sense of sadness. You thought about all the things you had left unsaid, all the opportunities you’d let slip away. The anger, the hurt, it all seemed trivial now, eclipsed by the sheer vulnerability of the man lying before you.

You traced the outline of his hand with your gaze, remembering how it had once held yours with such fierce possessiveness. The thought brought a fresh wave of tears to your eyes, silent and stinging. He was still the man you loved, despite everything. And seeing him like this, so broken and diminished, twisted something deep inside you.

The soft light of dawn was just beginning to filter through the blinds when John stirred. It was barely perceptible at first – a faint twitch of his fingers, a shallow gasp that hitched in his throat. Your head snapped up, your body rigid with anticipation. You leaned forward, your gaze fixed on his face, willing him to open his eyes.

He groaned, a low, pained sound that tore at something deep inside you. His eyelids fluttered, heavy and reluctant, before slowly, agonizingly, peeling open. His eyes, clouded with pain and disorientation, struggled to focus. They swept across the room, past the sterile walls and the beeping machines, until they landed on you.

For a long moment, there was nothing but a blank, uncomprehending stare. Your heart sank. He didn't recognize you. The years, the distance, the trauma – it had all erased you. A cold wave of despair washed over you, a familiar ache settling in your chest.

Then, a flicker. A subtle shift in his gaze, a tightening around his eyes. A flash of something that looked like… recognition. His lips parted, a dry, raspy sound escaping them. "Baby?" he whispered, the single word a fragile, broken thing on his tongue, mirroring the exact tone he used every morning when you woke up beside him.

The sound of that word, spoken by him after all this time, was like a physical blow. It ripped through the defenses you'd meticulously built, shattering them into a million pieces. Tears, hot and uncontrollable, welled in your eyes and spilled down your cheeks. You nodded, unable to speak past the lump in your throat.

He tried to lift his hand, his fingers trembling, but the effort was too much. You gently took his hand in yours, your thumb tracing the familiar lines of his palm. His skin was cool, almost clammy, but it was him. This was John.

"What... what happened?" he rasped, his voice weak.

You explained, carefully, piecing together the doctor's vague pronouncements and the grim reality. You told him he was lucky, that it was a brutal attack, but he was stable. As you spoke, his eyes never left your face, a mix of pain, confusion, and something else – something you dared not name – swirling within their depths.

When you finished, a heavy silence descended, broken only by the steady beeps of the machines. He closed his eyes for a moment, a sigh escaping him that sounded weary to his very bones. "I… I messed up," he murmured, so softly you almost didn't hear it. His voice was laced with a raw, undeniable regret. "Everything. I messed up everything."

You knew he wasn't just talking about the attack, or Captain America, or the blood on the shield. He was talking about you. About what he had lost. The unspoken words hung in the air, thick and suffocating. You wanted to argue, to tell him it wasn't all his fault, that life was messy and complicated. But a part of you, the part that still carried the scars of his choices, remained silent.

You stayed by his side through the morning, watching him drift in and out of sleep. Each time he woke, his gaze would find yours, a silent question in their depths. The hospital room felt like a bubble, insulated from the rest of the world, where only your shared history existed.

As the afternoon light began to wane, a nurse came in to check his vitals. She smiled kindly, explaining that he was doing remarkably well and would likely be moved to a regular room soon. When she left, John's eyes were open, fixed on you again.

"You… you came," he said, his voice stronger now, tinged with disbelief. "Why?"

It was a simple question, yet it held the weight of all the years, all the pain, all the love that still stubbornly refused to die. You looked at him, truly looked at the man who was once your entire world, battered and broken but undeniably there.

You swallowed, the lump in your throat making your voice a little shaky. "You listed me as your emergency contact, John." The words were simple, almost clinical, a stark contrast to the chaotic emotions churning within you. "The hospital called. I was told you were here."

You watched his face carefully, searching for a reaction. His brow furrowed slightly, a shadow of confusion crossing his features before it smoothed out, replaced by a subtle understanding. He didn't question it, didn't argue. He knew his own choices, even the ones made years ago, still had consequences. The ghost of a bitter smile touched his lips, a self-deprecating acknowledgment.

You didn't elaborate. You didn't tell him that the healthcare number on your phone had sent a jolt of ice through your veins, that the mere mention of his name had your heart hammering against your ribs. You certainly didn't admit that the idea of not coming, of just ignoring the call and letting him lie here alone, was an unbearable thought. How could you, when you still loved him with a fierce, illogical tenacity, even after all this time?

The truth of that love was a secret you held close, a vulnerable, aching part of you that you couldn't expose. Not now, not yet. You kept your gaze steady, betraying none of the turmoil within. He didn't need to know that underneath the hospital-issued blanket, you were still curled in his old shirt, the soft cotton a ghost of his embrace, or that the sweatpants you’d stolen from him years ago were still your comfort clothes. He didn't need to know that the scent of old spice and something uniquely him still clung to the fabric, a constant, painful reminder of what you'd lost and what you still yearned for.

The silence stretched, thick with unspoken words and the heavy weight of shared history. John's eyes, still weary but clearer now, searched yours, a mixture of gratitude and something akin to sorrow in their depths. He just nodded, a slight, almost imperceptible dip of his head, accepting your answer without further prompting.

The nurse returned shortly after, her presence a quiet disruption to your fragile bubble. She checked John's IV, adjusted his pillow, and made small, comforting noises. When she left, the hospital room settled back into its hushed rhythm.

John closed his eyes again, his breathing deep and even. He looked utterly exhausted, but perhaps, a little more at peace. You watched him, your own weariness beginning to creep in, a dull throb behind your eyes. The adrenaline that had propelled you here was finally fading, leaving behind a profound sense of emotional depletion.

You reached out, this time allowing your fingers to gently rest on the back of his hand. His skin was warm under your touch. He didn't stir, but a small, almost imperceptible squeeze came from his fingers in response. A silent acknowledgment. A flicker of something that felt like hope, fragile and uncertain, in the cold, sterile light of the hospital room.

A soft gasp escaped you as John's fingers, though still weak and trembling, reached out, finding your hand where it rested on his. His grip was feather-light, almost tentative, but undeniably there. His eyes, no longer clouded with pain or disorientation, were now intensely focused on you. In their depths, you saw it all: a raw, agonizing regret, a desperate longing, and an ocean of unsaid words that seemed to spill over, reflecting every moment of their shared past and their fractured present. It was as if a dam had broken, and all the suppressed emotions he'd carried were finally visible, shimmering in his gaze.

"Baby," he rasped, his voice still hoarse but laced with an almost unbearable tenderness, "I... I messed up. So bad." He squeezed your hand weakly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a familiar, comforting gesture that twisted your heart. "Not just with... with all of that." He gestured vaguely with his head towards the unseen world beyond the hospital walls, the world of Captain America and his fall from grace. "With us."

His gaze burned into yours, unflinching. "I lost myself. I let it all consume me – the military, the title, that damn shield. I convinced myself that was what mattered, that I had to be that person, no matter the cost." A pained cough wracked his body, and you instinctively moved to support him, adjusting his pillow. When he settled, his eyes found yours again, heavy with remorse. "And the cost... the cost was you. It was us."

Tears welled in his eyes, tracking paths through the bruises on his face. "God, I still love you, you know that? Every single day, every damn minute since you walked out that door, I've loved you. It's an ache I can't get rid of." His voice broke, barely a whisper. "And that's why... that's why I hate that you're here right now. After everything. Everything I did, everything I put you through. You deserve so much more than a broken man in a hospital bed." He squeezed your hand again, a plea, a confession, and a desperate self-condemnation all rolled into one. "You deserve to hate me. Why aren't you screaming at me right now?"

His words hung in the sterile air, heavy and raw. They were everything you had ever known he felt, everything you had secretly hoped to hear, and everything you dreaded. The impulse to reassure him, to tell him it was okay, was overwhelming. But the sting of past hurts, the memory of seeing him on that news report, the slow erosion of the man you loved into someone you barely recognized – it all held you back.

You couldn't lie, not to him, not to yourself. You were there because, despite everything, a part of you still loved him. A part of you couldn't bear the thought of him being alone, broken, and unmoored. But you couldn't articulate that, not with the full weight of his pain, his self-loathing, and his love pressing down on you.

So, you just held his hand, your fingers tightening around his. The silence that followed was different from the strained silence of their past arguments; this was a silence laden with profound sadness, with understanding, and with the unspoken complexities of a love that refused to die, even in the face of so much destruction. You didn't scream, didn't accuse. You simply remained, a silent anchor in his storm.

You couldn't stay seated, not with the raw vulnerability pouring from him, not with his hand clinging to yours. Slowly, carefully, you pushed yourself up from the chair. Still holding his hand, you leaned over, bending until your forehead rested gently against his. The slight coolness of his skin, the faint scent of antiseptic and something irrevocably him, filled your senses. With your free hand, you gently cupped his bruised cheek, your thumb brushing with feather-light tenderness over the dark discoloration near his temple. Every beat of your heart thrummed with a devastating truth you could no longer hold back.

"I'm not going to scream, John," you whispered, your voice thick with unshed tears, the words a soft current against his skin. "I'm not going to yell. What happened... what you did... it hurt, God, it hurt so much." A fresh wave of sorrow washed over you, a bitter taste in your mouth, but it was overshadowed by something far more potent. "But I love you. I love you more than any of it. More than the uniform, more than the shield, more than any of the choices you made."

You felt him tremble beneath your touch, a soft shudder wracking his body. His eyes, still open and searching, now mirrored the desperate hope that flickered in your own. The warmth of his skin against your forehead, the fragile connection of your hands, the shared breath in the hushed hospital room – it was a moment suspended in time, a fragile bridge built over years of pain and separation.

"Everything that happened, John," you continued, your voice barely a whisper, "it doesn't erase what we had. It doesn't erase this." You pressed your forehead a little firmer against his, willing him to understand, to feel the undeniable truth in your words. "And it doesn't erase that, even now, even after everything, I still can't imagine a world without you in it."

John's eyes, still glistening with unshed tears, held yours. In their depths, the torment that had clouded them for so long seemed to recede, replaced by a fragile, almost disbelieving hope. He didn't speak, couldn't, perhaps, but his thumb moved, tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand where your fingers were still intertwined. It was a silent promise, a soft, unspoken question that hummed between you.

You pulled the chair closer again, settling back into it, but this time, you didn't let go of his hand. You kept your hand cupped against his cheek for another lingering moment, feeling the steady warmth of his skin, before slowly, reluctantly, lowering your arm. The air in the room, once thick with sorrow and regret, now felt lighter, infused with a tender vulnerability.

You just sat there, in a comfortable, shared silence. The beeping of the machines seemed less intrusive now, a gentle rhythm accompanying the quiet thrum of your reunited hearts. You watched the rise and fall of his chest, saw the faint flush returning to his pale cheeks. He was still the John you knew, the man you loved, bruised and battered, but undeniably there.

"Get some rest, John," you finally murmured, your voice soft, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. "I'll be here."

He closed his eyes, a genuine, peaceful smile touching his own lips for the first time since you'd arrived. It was a small, almost imperceptible shift, but to you, it was everything. "Stay," he whispered, the word a soft breath against the quiet of the room.

"Always," you replied, your voice thick with emotion, a promise echoing in the sterile space.

Hours later, the harsh hospital light began to soften as the afternoon sun dipped lower, casting a warm, golden glow through the blinds. John was deeply asleep, his breathing even and calm. You leaned back in your chair, exhausted but undeniably content. Your hand was still loosely clasped in his, a quiet testament to the fragile bridge you had just rebuilt.

Looking at him now, so peaceful, so vulnerable, you knew, with a certainty that settled deep in your bones, that this was where you belonged. The pain of the past wouldn't simply vanish, but it no longer held the same power. It was a part of your story, a chapter they had both lived through, but it wouldn't define their future.

You reached out, gently pushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. As your fingers brushed his skin, he stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He looked at you, a soft, sleepy smile forming on his lips.

"Hey, baby," he rasped, his voice a little stronger now, filled with an unmistakable warmth. "You're still here."

"I told you I would be," you replied, your own smile mirroring his.

He squeezed your hand, a firm, reassuring grip this time. "Good," he murmured, his eyes filled with a love so profound it stole your breath away. "Because I don't ever want to wake up without you again."

And in that moment, surrounded by the quiet hum of the hospital, you knew, with a soaring heart, that a new chapter had just begun. It wouldn't be easy, but it would be together.

[doyou000me]

Reset the series: episode 1 clown theory

Yes, I have a theory. Yes, already. Yes, it is based solely on what we've seen in episode 1. Yes, it's 97% made up by my brain. Yes, I should probably just call it a fanfic idea.

Let's move on. Spoilers for episode 1 ahead.

Let me propose: 3 timelines.

#1: the actual original timeline, which we have not seen yet in the series and which my brain totally just made up,

#2: the original timeline in episode 1, where we first meet Armin the jaded actor with his massive mansion and cheating boyfriend,

#3: the timeline that Armin gets sent back to in episode 1, when he wakes up in his 20-year-old body.

So! Timeline 1: Armin and Thada meet, fall in love and are happy together. Armin is an aspiring actor rising to fame. Thada is Mr CEO of Crown Enterprises, family issues included. Revenge/scheming leads to an attempt at Thada's life - but Armin, who has yet to fulfill his dream of becoming a famous actor, steps in front of Thada and takes the bullet for him - and dies. (which is foreshadowed in the one line scene where he takes the bullet for First's character)

Thada, a broken man, wishes for a second chance, steps into traffic - and gets RESET.

He wakes up in timeline #2, heartbroken and guilt ridden. He blames himself for Armin's death, and decides to support Armin from behind the scenes without ever actually meeting him (which would explain how he can know Armin before he becomes famous and become his first fan). Thada watches as Armin rises to stardom, finally accomplishing his dream of becoming a famous actor - but from the distance, Thada cannot see how empty and joyless Armin's life at the top has become.

Queue; the award, the drugged champagne, the cheating boyfriend, the fight on the balcony, Armin falling to his death to the flashing of cameras - and so Armin gets RESET.

We see him wake up in timeline #3 in episode 1, and he starts to see the potential of his "second" chance. He retains his memories from timeline #2, but here Thada does not retain his full memories of #1. He is simply... drawn to this man who seems so familiar to his heart.

And so the events play out. Armin navigates his twenties with his memories from #2. He falls for Thada, who is already smitten. He climbs to fame faster than ever, while Thada supports him... and tries to keep his family's scheming in check.

And so, the events of #1 repeat themself - Armin takes a bullet for Thada and dies (yes he dies in every timeline don't psychoanalyse me ok?)

He wakes up in a hospital - and realises that he has been RESET again. Only this time, he is back in #2. He is once more the famous factor with a massive mansion and an award. He didn't die, but has been in a coma. Meanwhile, his cheating boyfriend and backstabbing friend have been charged with manslaughter. First and Winner (what were their characters called?) are being investigated because of the drugs. And Armin... Armin now knows who "T.D." is.

He seeks him out, his lover from a different timeline, who he now knows has been watching all this time. They meet up (probably with Armin dramatically storming into Thada's very fancy office) and quickly realise that though their memories together are from different timelines, their love is true.

And so the bad guys get punished, and our boys get to spend the rest of their lives together, slowly reconnecting and getting to know each other again while figuring out how their timelines differ - probably over fancy dinner, expensive drinks and sexy baths in the private pool.

And that, my dears, is my clown theory based on Reset episode 1.

I bow, as the velvet curtains close on the silent theatre.

[saiyanprincessswanie]

Love Of My Life

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 1675

Summary: When Bucky walks out of your life unexpectedly without a word from him you're left with a broken heart. Three months later he returns, do you forgive him or let him go?

Warnings: angst, begging for forgiveness, happy ending.

Prompt: an old flame rekindled, Theme: Write about letting go, or not wanting to.

Inspired by Queen’s “Love of My Life” song

A/N: Thank you to my beta reader @lfnr-blog-blog-blog for reading this for me. All mistakes are my own. Thank you to @fictional-affairs for the lovely moodboard & @whimsicalrogers for my divider.

A/N 2: this was written for the Winds of Autumn Challenge @the-slumberparty

Reblogs & Comments are welcomed and encouraged. It lets me know you like my work. 😊💜

I do NOT consent to translating or reposting my work on any social media platform, app, or third-party site. If you see my work anywhere besides my personal Tumblr & AO3 accounts, it has been stolen. I will NEVER give written or verbal permission to repost or translate any of my fanfics as they’re MY intellectual property. 🚫🚫

It’s been three months since Bucky walked out of your life. One day you were a happy, loving couple and the next day Bucky came home from a mission as a changed man. He was anxious, short-tempered, and kept his feelings to himself. He wasn’t the man you fell for all those years ago. When you tried to get him to talk to you he would tell you to “leave it alone.” Then when you didn’t he would storm out the door and not return until you were already in bed. One day he stormed out the door after a fight and he never returned. The love of your life had just hurt you. He swore he would never break your heart yet you stood in your house alone.

It took weeks to figure out what you did wrong. Did you say something wrong or push him too much? But after time went by you figured out it must be him and not you. Something must have spooked him on the mission that rattled him to his core. Whatever it was it must have been something big as nothing seemed to scare Bucky, except his past with Hydra.

Now here you were all alone and trying to pick up the pieces. Since Bucky left abruptly all his things were still scattered across the house and in closets. Maybe one day he would come back, you told yourself. You tried to convince yourself. But for now, you need to try and heal.

So now, three months after he left you to pick up the pieces you got a knock on your front door from an unexpected visitor. You open the door and find Bucky standing at your front door. You were shocked to see him standing there in his jeans, henley, leather jacket, and biker boots. He smirked when he saw you wearing one of his henley shirts and leggings. You didn’t know what to say to him as he looked you over.

“Sweetheart, I know this is a shock but I was wondering if I could come in and talk with you.”

Tears started to gather in your eyes at his words. You turned around leaving the door open for him and headed to the living room. You heard the door close and then his footsteps heading toward you. What did he have to say after three months of being a part? You had to admit you were curious. But the other part of you was angry with him. How dare he show up asking to talk with you when he couldn’t give you the time of day when he left.

You sat on the couch and Bucky joined you on the other side. He watched as you refused to look him in the eye. He couldn’t blame you for not wanting to and watched as you wiped the tears from your eyes.

“So, what brings you back after all this time?” You asked.

“I’ve missed you for one thing.” He states as you roll your eyes at him.

“Seriously I have.” He continues. “I knew the day I left was the biggest mistake of my life but I needed help. That mission shook me to my core and I wasn’t the same person when I returned. I was afraid that if I didn’t do something, we would never be together again.”

“You knew it was a mistake to leave and yet you still left. What the hell Bucky I could have helped you if you would’ve just asked me. That’s what a relationship is all about. When one of us is down or struggling the other picks us up. But instead of doing that, you left for three months!”

Your anger was starting to show its ugly face as you couldn’t understand why he thought leaving was a good thing. None of this made sense to you.

“Doll, let me start from the beginning so you might understand. Okay?” He looked at you with pleading eyes as if begging for a chance to be heard.

“That’s fine Bucky.” You softly answer, your hands fidgeting in your lap afraid of what he might say.

“The mission was supposed to be simple. Get in, get the information we need, and wipe the server. Things seemed to be going to plan until over the speaker system I heard the winter soldier trigger words. At first, they didn’t bother me but as they continued I started getting a headache and flashbacks. The words were spoken over and over again until I was finally able to escape. When I got back for debriefing I was still feeling off like something was trying to escape my mind. Then when we went over all the information I had downloaded it had a file called ‘The Winter Soldier reprogramming’ on it. The file showed different strategies on how to bring me back under control by Hydra. It scared me as I’m so afraid to go back under. When I came home I was on edge dreading any minute I could turn on you. So I decided it was best for me to go back to Wakanda to run tests to make sure I never become the soldat again. I left this all in the letter I left you.”

You could understand to an extent why he did what he did but your frustration got the best of you and what did he mean ‘a letter’?

“But why not tell me this in person instead of running away? You should have been honest with me. Instead, you left me brokenhearted and trying to pick up the broken pieces after you left. What letter are you even talking about? I got no letter from you.”

Bucky moves a little closer to you and looks into your eyes. “You’re right, I should have been honest with you in person. But doll, I left you a letter on your nightside table explaining everything. I’m sorry I broke your heart for leaving the way I did. I will do anything and everything to win your trust back. I promise I’m never leaving you like that again. What can I do to prove to you that I’m sorry?”

“I don’t know Bucky…” Your eyes cast downward as you try to figure out what you want to do.

“Doll, please. I’m begging for your forgiveness and a way back to your heart.” Bucky drops to his knees in front of you, grasping your hands like they are a lifeline. He could see you were still hurt and contemplating his words.

You needed to find that letter to see if he was lying to you. Even though your heart was telling you he was being truthful, your mind was spinning a web of deception.

“Bucky, I need a minute to myself.” You stood from the couch looking down at Bucky and offered a small smile. “I’ll be right back.”

You left Bucky in the living room and headed to your shared bedroom. Inside the room you walked to your side of the bed where a table sat. Bending down you looked under the bed and under the table. There was no letter. Pulling the table away from the wall you looked down and there was an envelope. Turning it over in your hands you saw his hand writing with your name on the envelope. Opening the envelope you pull out a letter and your heart sinks.

To my sweetheart,

I’m sorry that I’ve been hard to be around lately. I know my mood has been up and down since I came home from my last mission. The problem is during the mission Hydra tried to use the trigger words on me. It’s causing my mind to question whether or not they worked as my PTSD has been kicking up again and I can’t get this headache to go away. With that said, I'm heading to Wakanda to see if Shuri and Ayo can help me again. The last thing I want to do is hurt you so I must take some time away from you. I promise that I will come back to you. Wait for me.

Forever Yours,

J.B.B.

You sit on the bed and start to cry. He was right, it was all in the letter. How could you be so stupid thinking that he would just leave you without a word. You should have known better. Bucky was your everything.

You hear Bucky walk into the room and feel the bed dip as he sits next to you. Turning into his chest you cried. Bucky wrapped his arms around you and held you tight.

“It’s okay, doll. I gotcha. I promise it will be okay.”

“Bucky…I’m so sorry for thinking the worst of you. I should’ve known you wouldn’t have just left me. Please forgive me.”

Bucky pulls you gently away from him as he takes in your teary eyes and wobbly lip. His flesh hand slowly wipes the tears from your face and he gives a soft smile.

“If anyone should be sorry it’s me. I should have just told you my plan instead of writing it. I caused the pain you’ve been feeling for the last three months. I promise I will take every second of every day to make it up to you. Just give me the chance to do that, doll.”

“I will, Buck. We will work this out. I love you so much.” Your hand runs through his hair and Bucky briefly closes his eyes as he shivers from the feeling.

Opening his eyes again his shining blue eyes stare at you. “I love you too, doll.” Bucky pulls you in for a kiss and puts all his feelings behind it.

Looking back at it you’re happy you made it. You rekindled your feelings for one another and proved to the other that each was unwilling to let the other go anytime soon without a fight. Never did you go through something like this again as you always communicated openly.

Taglist

@americasass81

@astheskycries

@awesomerextyphoon

@awkwardgiraffe726

@b3autyfuld1sast3r

@caffiend-queen

@caplanbuckybarnes

@denisemarieangelina

@fictional-affairs

@georgiapeach30513

@get0verit

@hollybee8917

@joannie95

@jobean12-blog

@jtargaryen18

@jvanilly

@kmc1989

@labella420

@lfnr-blog-blog-blog

@madscape

@mdemontespan1667

@missvelvetsstuff

@mrsmischief209

@mycrazyasslikestoread

@nekoannie-chan

@noellez-best-life23

@notyourtypicalrose

@obsessedwithcevans

@patzammit

@princessofdarkwinter

@rayofdawnworld

@sarahowritesostucky

@shadowrose13-blog1

@spectre-posts

@steviebbboi

@sweater-daddiesdumbdork

@talia-rumlow

@thefallenbibliophilequote

@what-is-your-plan-today

@wolfsmom1

@yenzys-lucky-charm

@casa-boiardi

@s-a-v-a-n-a-34

@floralwsloki

@ozwriterchick

@kmc1989

@hedwig394

@tdbooth

@learisa

[ghostlynightpanda]

Hiiii I love your writing and I wanted to ask u if u could write an aib x reader fanfic where the reader open up to the characters about their trauma (and end it w fluff)?

AIB Characters react to Reader opening up about trauma

A/N: I wasn’t sure what kind of trauma you had in mind — something from your past life, or something related to the games. So, I chose a close friend dying in a game right in front of your eyes. I hope that’s okay!

content/warnings: Ann, Kuina, Mira, Aguni, Niragi, Last Boss, Chishiya, canon typical blood and violence, 3.364 words

Ann

The sun in this world never felt real.

It cast a golden light across the rooftop, painting the crumbling edges of the city in soft hues. Ann sat with you, legs crossed, quiet as always. The wind played with a strand of her hair. She hadn’t spoken in a while — not because she didn’t care, but because she knew. Ann was the kind of person who could sit through a silence and still make you feel heard.

You hadn’t meant to say anything. You were just going to sit there, maybe eat the stale crackers she’d bartered for, maybe talk about the next game, the next night. But something in the stillness broke open a locked part of your chest.

"Back in the Hearts game," you started, voice catching in your throat, "I watched my best friend die."

Ann didn’t look at you, not right away. She stayed still, like a deer sensing a storm, letting the moment settle.

"She was… she was everything. Like family. We were gonna get out of this together. And then…" Your voice cracked. "She trusted the wrong person. I told her not to. I begged her."

The tears came faster than expected, hot and bitter. You turned away, embarrassed, trying to swipe them from your cheeks. "She looked at me right before it happened. Like she was sorry. Like it was her fault."

Ann finally moved — slowly, carefully. She shifted closer, not saying anything, not pushing. She just was there, and it made your chest ache even more.

"I keep thinking maybe if I had screamed louder, if I’d moved faster—"

"You couldn’t have saved her," Ann said, her voice low and even.

You looked at her, surprised.

"I know what guilt sounds like," she continued. "I’ve carried it too. It twists inside you. Makes you think it’s your fault, because blaming yourself feels better than admitting the world can be this cruel."

You blinked at her, eyes blurry. Her expression was unreadable — but her eyes were soft.

"She would’ve known you tried," she said. "She would’ve known you loved her."

You exhaled, a broken sound. "I didn’t even get to hold her hand. She was too far. I just… watched."

Ann reached for you. Her fingers curled gently around your wrist, grounding you. It wasn’t a dramatic gesture, not some cinematic embrace — just real. Warm. Steady.

"She’s gone," you whispered.

"I know," Ann said. She leaned her head against your shoulder. "But you’re not."

For a long time, you sat like that — two small people in a city of ghosts, pressing together in quiet defiance of the Borderland’s cruelty.

And when the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the rooftop, Ann reached for your hand. Her fingers laced with yours, firm and comforting.

"We’ll carry her with us," she said softly. "And when we get out of here, we’ll remember her. Together."

You nodded, and for the first time in days, the weight on your chest didn’t feel unbearable.

The world was still broken. But right then, with Ann beside you, it felt just a little more survivable.

Kuina

You didn’t mean to fall apart. Not tonight. Not in front of her.

Kuina was the one person in the Borderland who still laughed like the world wasn’t broken. Who danced when it rained and tied her hair with bright fabric, even when everything felt dark and gray.

You loved that about her. The light she carried. The way she smiled at you like you weren’t just another survivor, but someone worth holding onto.

And maybe that’s why it broke something in you when her fingers brushed your arm and she said, lightly, "You’ve been quiet all day. That’s not like you."

You tried to wave it off. "Just tired."

But Kuina’s eyes — always sharper than she let on — narrowed slightly. "No, it’s not just that."

You didn’t want to talk. You didn’t want to feel.

But then she sat beside you, thigh pressed to yours, grounding you. And the words spilled out before you could stop them.

"There was a game," you whispered. "It was Clubs. I didn’t think it’d be that bad."

Kuina didn’t interrupt. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, giving you all her attention.

"I had this friend," you continued. "We were inseparable. Since day one here. He always joked that if anyone was gonna make it out, it’d be me. Said he’d follow me to hell and back." You laughed bitterly. "I guess this world counts as hell."

Kuina’s hand found yours, fingers gentle but firm.

"I told him not to volunteer. But he wanted to protect us — me. He thought if he took the hit, we’d win. And we did win, technically." You swallowed, throat dry. "But he… they made an example of him. It wasn’t just a shot to the head or anything clean. They dragged it out."

You choked on the memory, hands trembling.

"I still hear it sometimes. When I try to sleep."

Kuina didn’t speak right away. She let the silence hold you both, her thumb tracing small circles on your hand.

"Shit," she finally said, voice low and full of something close to fury. "I hate that this place keeps doing this to people like you. People who care."

You looked up at her, expecting pity.

But Kuina just looked fierce. Protective.

"I’ve lost people too," she said. "People who made me feel like I was more than what the world tried to make me. And after they were gone, I didn’t know how to carry that weight."

She leaned in closer, her forehead brushing yours. "But you don’t have to carry it alone, okay?"

You didn’t respond — couldn’t. But your breathing slowed, just a little, with her so close. Her scent — faint smoke, sweat, and mint — wrapped around you.

"You’re allowed to break down sometimes," she murmured. "I’ll be right here when you do. And when you’re ready to laugh again, I’ll be the idiot dancing barefoot on the rooftop until you smile."

You gave a small, shaky laugh — half-sob, half-genuine.

"There it is," Kuina whispered, grinning.

You leaned into her, pressing your face into her shoulder. She wrapped both arms around you, solid and warm. She didn’t let go.

And for a while, there was nothing else. Just Kuina, holding you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

When the night deepened and the stars blinked above the broken city, she tilted your chin up and kissed your forehead.

"You’re not alone in this hellhole," she whispered. "Not anymore."

Mira

The room was too quiet.

It shouldn’t have been. Not after what you'd seen. Not after the way your friend's blood had splattered across the ground, pooling warm beneath them like the world itself had reached up and claimed them.

You sat at the far edge of your room, knees pulled tight to your chest. The Beach was loud—intentionally so. To make people forget about the screams of death. An illusion of safety, of fun.

But none of it could touch the storm inside you.

You didn't hear Mira arrive. You just felt her presence — like a shift in the air.

"You didn’t come to dinner," she said softly, voice like glass: smooth, cold, beautiful.

You didn’t look up. "Wasn’t hungry."

There was a pause.

Then the rustle of her clothes as she sat beside you — uninvited, unbothered. You could smell jasmine on her. Always jasmine.

"Was it someone close?"

You nodded slowly. "We met the day I got here. He taught me how to survive. Shared everything. Always told me we’d make it out together."

"And now he's dead."

You swallowed, hard. "They made me choose between saving him or winning the game."

Mira’s eyes flicked toward you, unreadable. "And you chose?"

"I chose to live," you whispered, ashamed. "And he smiled, like he forgave me, before he even fell."

There was silence.

Then Mira tilted her head. "You're angry at yourself."

"Of course I am."

"And yet you’re still here. Alive."

You turned sharply toward her. "Don’t say it like that means anything."

Mira studied you with that unsettling calm of hers — like she was peering into your soul, not to judge it, but to understand how it worked.

"Grief has many shapes," she said, "but guilt is the one you’ve chosen to wear."

You didn’t respond. You didn’t know how.

"But I’ll tell you something," she continued. "He’s gone. But you — you are a beautiful, fractured thing. And I’ve seen many people fall apart in this world… but not many try to stay whole the way you do."

You blinked, surprised. "Why would you care if I fall apart?"

Mira smiled — not her coy, manipulative one. Something softer. Almost human.

"Because," she said, reaching out to brush a tear from your cheek, "I’ve seen what this place does to people. And you… you still feel. Still cry. That’s rare."

You stared at her. "Is that what you like? Watching people crumble?"

"No," she said. "I like watching people survive."

She leaned closer, her fingers grazing your hand. "I could lie to you. Tell you it wasn’t your fault. That it gets easier. But I think you’d rather hear the truth."

You nodded, trembling.

"The pain will stay," she said. "But so will I."

You let out a shaky breath — and to your own surprise, leaned into her. She didn’t pull away. Mira, ever composed, shifted just enough to allow you to rest your head against her shoulder.

And in the stillness, with koi drifting in the pond and moonlight painting your skin silver, she whispered: "He would have forgiven you. But even if he hadn’t… I do."

You closed your eyes.

And for once, in the chaos of this world, your heart was quiet.

Aguni

You didn’t want to be found.

Not after the game. Not after that.

You were hiding out in a stairwell in the back of the Beach, knees scraped and heart cracked wide open. There was still blood on your shirt but it wasn’t yours.

You hadn’t even tried to clean it off.

They made you watch. That was the worst part — not the screaming, not the death. It was that you were helpless. You hadn’t even been allowed to look away.

You didn’t know how long you’d been there when you heard the footsteps — heavy, purposeful, and unmistakably familiar.

You didn’t look up. You didn’t need to.

"Go away, Aguni."

A long silence. Then, quietly: "No."

You felt him sit next to you, the sound of his weight settling on the stairs. You stared at the dirt under your nails. He didn’t speak, didn’t demand anything. Just sat there, letting your breathing settle into something less ragged.

Finally, you whispered, "She didn’t have to die like that."

Aguni’s voice was low, gravelly. "No. She didn’t."

"They made it a hearts game. Like it was a joke. And I just— I just watched."

Your fists clenched in your lap, nails digging into your palms.

"I should’ve done something."

Aguni didn’t argue. He didn’t tell you it wasn’t your fault, or that everything would be okay. That wasn’t his way.

Instead, he said, "The first time I watched someone I cared about die, I thought I’d lost myself too."

You looked up, startled by the crack in his voice — faint, but there.

"Didn’t sleep. Didn’t eat. Just kept walking. Like maybe if I moved fast enough, the grief wouldn’t catch me."

You stared at him. Not the militant, stoic Aguni the Beach feared — but the man underneath: worn, scarred, human.

"What happened?" you asked softly.

Aguni met your gaze. "I stopped running. And I broke."

The wind shifted. A bird cried somewhere above the ruins.

"But someone sat with me," he added, "until I remembered how to breathe."

You exhaled — shaky, but real. "I don’t know how to come back from this."

"You don’t have to," Aguni said. "Not all at once."

He reached out slowly — not forcefully, just there — and placed a heavy hand over your clenched fist. The warmth of it, the solidity, undid you.

You leaned sideways, and before you could stop yourself, your forehead rested against his shoulder. He didn’t flinch. Just let you stay there, his other arm wrapping around your back in a quiet, anchoring hold.

You sat like that a long time — no words, no movement. Just the slow beat of his heart and the steadiness of his breath.

"You don’t have to carry it alone," he murmured into your hair.

And when you finally looked up, eyes swollen and chest hollow, he was still there.

Still him.

Still staying.

Niragi

You didn’t think Niragi would be the one to find you.

Not out of everyone.

But somehow, there he was — standing in the doorway of the room you’d hid yourself into after the game. His silhouette was backlit by orange Borderland sunset, the shadows making him look more like a ghost than a person.

He didn’t knock. Of course not.

He just leaned against the frame and said, "You look like shit."

You were sitting on the floor, back against the wall, blood crusted down your sleeve and tear tracks dried on your face. "Go away."

"No."

Of course. He stepped inside, the broken door dragging behind him, and you didn’t have the strength to push him out.

"You usually talk a lot," he said, crouching in front of you. "What, cat got your tongue or just too busy wallowing?"

You glared at him, jaw tight. "Don’t you have someone else to mess with?"

"I’m trying to be nice," he said, surprisingly not mocking. "I don’t do this shit, okay?"

You laughed bitterly. "Yeah. I noticed."

He stared at you for a moment, then his voice dropped — low, serious. "Who was it?"

You blinked.

"In the game. Who’d you lose?"

Your throat closed. You didn’t answer.

But Niragi’s tone didn’t press. "You’ve got that look," he muttered. "The ‘I watched someone I actually gave a damn about die’ look."

You turned your face away, voice hoarse. "He didn’t deserve it."

"No one does," Niragi said. "That’s the joke."

Silence stretched.

You let out a breath. "I should’ve pulled him back. Just one second earlier. One step."

Niragi clicked his tongue. "That’s how it always is. They dangle just out of reach and then it’s on you for not having longer arms. Bullshit."

You looked at him — really looked — and beneath the arrogance, the scars, the fire in his eyes, there was something cracked and quiet hiding deep down.

He sat beside you. Not close. Not warm. But there.

And that meant something.

"You’re not gonna give me a speech?" you asked, voice thin. "Like, ‘toughen up, it’s a hellhole and you won’t survive if you keep on crying’?"

"Why?" Niragi muttered. "You already know it. No point kicking someone when they’re already on the floor."

You laughed, broken and real.

He glanced at you, then muttered, "I’ve been on the floor before. No one gave a shit. Not like you do."

You looked over at him. "So why are you here?"

He didn’t meet your eyes.

Instead, he pulled a crushed protein bar from his pocket and dropped it in your lap like a stray cat offering a dead mouse. "Eat. Or you’ll pass out."

You stared at it. Then at him.

And before you could stop yourself, your voice cracked. "I miss him."

Something in Niragi’s jaw twitched.

"Then don’t forget him," he said. "Keep him with you. Use the pain. Burn with it if you have to — just don’t let it eat you."

You looked at him, stunned.

And Niragi, ever brash and unpredictable, scoffed like he hated what he'd just said. "God, I sound like a motivational poster. Forget it."

But then, when you were too tired to hold yourself up anymore, he shifted closer — awkwardly, stiffly — and let your head fall against his shoulder.

"I’m not gonna hug you or some shit," he said.

You smiled, exhausted. "I know."

He didn’t move away.

Instead, he sat there with you, quiet, grounded, a furnace turned low.

And after a while, when your eyes started to slip closed, you heard him mutter, so soft you almost missed it: "You’re not alone, alright?"

In this world, that was as close to love as it got.

Last Boss

You didn’t want to admit it.

Not to yourself, and certainly not to him.

But the memories wouldn’t stop replaying — the way your friend fell, blood splattering across the cracked concrete floor, how their last breath was stolen by the cruelty of the game.

You found yourself at the edge of the rooftop, the city sprawling endlessly beneath you, cold wind tugging at your clothes. You didn’t think anyone would come up here. It was usually deserted �� a good place to be alone with the ghosts.

But then his voice came — calm, measured. "You shouldn’t be up here alone."

You swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the horizon. "I just needed… space."

He stepped closer, his dark eyes sharp but not unkind. "The games don’t leave us untouched. I know."

You blinked, surprised by the rare softness in his tone.

"I lost people too," he continued, voice low. "People who mattered. It doesn’t get easier. You just learn to carry it."

You turned to him, the vulnerability threatening to break free. "How do you carry it without breaking?"

He was quiet for a moment, then reached out—just briefly—to rest a hand on your shoulder. His touch was firm, grounding.

"You find people worth trusting," he said simply. "People who won’t let you fall apart."

Your breath caught. He didn’t say it like a command or a challenge — more like a quiet promise.

You looked up at him, and for the first time, the Last Boss’s guarded armor seemed to crack.

He offered a small, almost imperceptible nod.

"Come," he said, turning toward the stairs. "You’re not alone."

And as you followed him down from the rooftop, the stars shining behind you both, something warm settled inside — a fragile, steady hope.

Chishiya

You sat alone in the dimly lit lounge, the hum of the pool party beyond the windows a distant murmur. The last game replayed endlessly in your mind, a brutal sequence of moments you couldn’t unsee — your closest friend falling, blood and desperation mixing in a way that made your chest tighten every time you remembered.

You didn’t want to talk about it. You thought no one would understand.

But then he appeared, as if summoned by the silence. Chishiya, with his lazy grin and eyes that always seemed to be calculating something just beneath the surface.

"Still replaying that horror show in your head?" he asked, voice smooth, almost amused.

You didn’t answer.

He pulled up a chair and sat beside you, close enough to notice but not crowding.

"Trauma," he mused, "is an inefficient neural process. It rewires your brain to fixate on negative outcomes. Evolutionarily, it’s… understandable. But not exactly helpful for moving forward."

You blinked, surprised by the clinical precision.

"Wow," you said softly, "talk about a cold comfort."

He smirked. "I’m not here to comfort you. I’m here to offer a way out."

You glanced at him. "And that is?"

"Reframing the narrative. Your friend’s death is a brutal fact, yes. But the question is, what do you do with that fact?"

You sighed. "I don’t know if I can do anything but feel broken."

"Feelings are data," he said. "Valid, important. But they don’t define you. You do."

He leaned back, studying you like a particularly interesting puzzle.

"If you want, I can help you analyze it. Find patterns, triggers, coping mechanisms. Turn the chaos into something manageable."

You looked up at him, eyes wet but curious.

"Maybe I don’t have to be stuck in the pain," you whispered.

Chishiya’s smile softened, just a little.

"Pain is inevitable," he said. "But loneliness is optional." He paused, then added, "You’re not alone."

It was the first time you’d heard sincerity in his voice.

And for the first time since the loss, you felt the faintest flicker of relief.

Masterlist

[minicookiedemonx]

I’m going to be posting all my stories on my page as well!

Hi guys, it's mini back with another Gojo fanfic!! This one is more up my alleys in terms of what I am into. So I hope you guys enjoy! I present to you.

DEFYING GOJO; A Tale of Dominance and Desire

Summary: Gojo and the femreader are a couple; Despite the female reader initial defiance, you quickly becomes enthralled by his expert touch and commanding presence. As their passion intensifies, your is pushed to the brink of submission and back again, discovering the thrill of being dominated by the man who can bring you to the edge of pleasure and pain.

Warnings: BDSM, borderline CNC, toy play, edging, slapping, choking, hair pulling, degradation kink, teasing, fingering, brat kink

Word count: 4k

You never intended to let things escalate as they did, but you couldn't help it. The evening's events led you to sit in Gojo's opulent car, with his faithful chauffeur driving you home. You were all alone. You gazed out the window as the city lights merged into a stunning mesh; you could admit that you were more than a little tipsy.

You began to replay the events of the night over and over in your mind, and it was utterly tantalizing.

It was a formal ball hosted by the finance company Gojo worked for, attended by many high-profile clients. While Gojo had always enjoyed public play, tonight was important. Networking was crucial for the company's survival.

And you might have been selfish tonight, prioritizing your erotic pleasures over the company's interests. To be honest, you couldn't care less, but it meant something to Gojo. A part of you felt guilty, while a larger, more sensitive part of you yearned for the punishment that would inevitably follow your reckless decisions.

You teased, taunted, and maybe even flirted with one or two patrons, but you knew what you were doing. No matter how much you blamed the alcohol as a feeble excuse to deflect Gojo's warnings, it was all on you. "Get in the car. Go home. We'll discuss this when I get back," Gojo said sternly, his anger barely concealed beneath his authoritative commands.

As you recalled the night's events and fantasized about all the different ways you could be punished, your phone rang. You picked it up, and Gojo's contact information lit up your screen in the dark car, casting a pale glow on your face. You smirked. No matter how much he disciplined you, you couldn't help but misbehave.

You let the phone ring a few more times, savoring each passing moment that made Gojo's blood pressure rise. Finally, you decided to answer. "Hello," you answered innocently. At first, Gojo didn't say anything; you only heard his breathing, as if he was trying to maintain control. You could hear voices in the background, indicating that Gojo hadn't left the ball yet.

"When I get home, you better be on your fucking knees. And naked," he growled before hanging up, leaving you breathless and eager.

You pondered whether you would follow his instructions or not. Submitting would be beneficial in the long run and might even lead to a reward. But in Gojo's unpredictable state, he could devise a series of punishments that would leave you both blissful and in pain, a perfect storm. As the chauffeur pulled up to your elegant home, you stepped out of the car, unable to ignore the fact that your panties were soaked through.

After entering the house, you pampered yourself with skincare, lotion, and oils. You styled your hair naturally yet presentably and contemplated your plan of action. Would you submit or disobey? You chose the more scandalous option.

You picked out a casual cropped tank top that accentuated your breasts and tight short-shorts that did the same for your rear. No panties, of course. You sat on your bed, flipping through one of your recent reads, not paying much attention. Your phone buzzed beside you, displaying a notification with Gojo's text. "Be ready for me. I'll be home in 20." You smiled at the screen before setting your phone back down, not even bothering to reply.

That would really infuriate him.

As you continued to read, you heard the front door unlock, open, and close with a bang downstairs. You loved it when he was angry; that's when he fucked you the best.

You heard his footsteps pause at the foot of the stairs, probably realizing that you had disobeyed him. You would have given anything to see the look on his face right now. Then, you heard his footsteps ascend the stairs, heavy with each step. You continued to read, pretending to be unaffected by his intoxicating presence.

Gojo burst through the door, and your eyes met his, making it evident that he was livid. His brows knitted together, and his lips slightly parted as he panted, as if every primal instinct within him was about to break free. "You were supposed to obey my commands. You should have been naked, kneeling before me, but instead, here you are, being defiant."

He took slow, deliberate steps toward the foot of the bed. By now, you had set your book aside, your back pressed against the bed frame, knees drawn to your chest. Your arms wrapped around your knees as you looked at him, mischief lurking beneath your gaze.

"What made you think I'd listen to you?" you challenged, "It's not like you own me or something." You rolled your eyes, and when they returned to Gojo, the fierceness in his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. He reached forward and swiftly pulled you down to the edge of the bed by your legs. Suddenly, he was on top of you.

His body pressed against yours, the heat emanating from him, and his pheromones filled your senses, driving you wild. He leaned in close enough for your lips to nearly touch, his soft white hair falling around his face as his piercing ice-blue eyes held you captive.

"On the contrary, I own every part of you," he murmured, his thumb tracing your lips, "Your lips," then trailing down to the valley between your breasts. "Your breasts," his fingers continued to glide over every area of your body he claimed. "Your pussy," but before he could reach your aching core, his grip shifted to the back of your head. He grabbed your hair with one hand, lifting your body to sit on the edge of the bed.

As he held tightly to your hair at the back of your head, he brought his face level with yours. "And it's about time you fucking understood that." With that, he used your hair to guide you to stand up. He released his grip before stepping back, turning to face you as he approached his favorite leather chair.

Once he reached it, he turned to face you, sinking into the chair with ease. He beckoned you with a crooked finger, "Come here. Now."

You gradually approached Gojo until you were merely a few feet away from him. One hand rested on the chair's arm while the other stroked his chin, as if he was pondering how he was going to proceed.

"Strip," Gojo commanded with a stern tone, leaning forward in his chair to observe you more closely. You bit your lip as you slowly began to remove your clothing, starting with your top. You crossed your arms over one another, hooking your hands underneath the hem of your shirt before lifting it over your head and tossing it to the side as seductively as possible. You then began to shimmy your way out of your tight shorts, stepping out of them, leaving you completely naked before Gojo.

Once you were entirely bare, Gojo exhaled loudly, easing back into his chair. He ran his fingers through his hair, "God, your body is fucking perfect. If you weren't acting like such a naughty slut, I would take you right here, right now." He stood up and walked towards you, slowly circling you like a shark stalking its prey. He stopped behind you and leaned towards your ear, "But naughty sluts don't get rewarded."

Gojo bit your earlobe before forcefully smacking your ass, causing you to gasp loudly in response. He soothed the lingering burn by roughly grabbing your ass with both of his hands. "Mm, baby, the things I'm going to do to you," Gojo whispered in a husky voice. He slid his hands between your legs, dragging his finger from your clit, all the way through the slit. Gojo moaned, "I love how wet you get for me; it makes me want to fuck you so bad." He teasingly inserted the tip of his finger in and out of you.

You rocked your body against the rhythm of his fingers, desperate for more. Gojo tsked at you before quickly removing his hand. He stepped in front of you and put the same finger that had been inside you in your mouth. You made eye contact with Gojo as you eagerly sucked on his fingers. Gojo hummed at the sight, "But only good girls get rewarded, remember?"

"Now I'll give you one more chance...if you apologize like a good girl, I might throw in a reward...or two..."

You kept your gaze on the floor, contemplating how you wanted to play this. Though submitting would bring many pleasures, being defiant caused a thrill out of you like no other. Nothing felt better than being dominated by Gojo Satoru.

Gojo, sensing your hesitation, knelt down beside you, his face inches from yours. "You know, it's not always about the punishment," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "Sometimes, it's about the surrender. The trust. The release." He paused, his eyes searching yours. "Don't you want to experience that with me?"

Finally, you raised your head to meet his gaze, your eyes flashing with defiance. "I'm not sorry, Gojo," you said, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart. "I won't apologize for something I don't believe I did wrong."

Gojo's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of surprise in their depths. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine. "Is that so?" he drawled, his voice low and dangerous. "Well then, we'll just have to continue with the punishment, won't we?"

He walked back towards the play cabinet, his movements fluid and graceful like a predator stalking its prey. You couldn't help but watch him, your body tense with anticipation as you wondered what he had planned next. Would he choose the crop again, or perhaps something else entirely?

As Gojo rummaged through the cabinet, you took the opportunity to assess your situation. You were on all fours, completely naked and vulnerable, with no idea what Gojo had in store for you. A shiver of excitement ran down your spine at the thought, and you realized that this was exactly what you wanted - to be pushed to your limits, to feel the sting of the crop and the heat of Gojo's body against yours.

With a triumphant grin, Gojo emerged from the cabinet, holding a new toy in his hand. It was a paddle, similar to the one he had used earlier but with a slightly different design. You couldn't help but gulp at the sight, wondering how it would feel against your already tender skin.

"Now, where were we?" Gojo said, his voice dripping with mock innocence as he approached you with the paddle. "Oh yes, you were about to receive your punishment for being such a naughty girl."

He raised the paddle above his head, and you braced yourself for the impact. But just as he was about to bring it down, he stopped, his eyes narrowing as he regarded you with a mixture of amusement and frustration.

"You know," he said, "I'm starting to think that you actually enjoy this."

You couldn't help but smile at that, your defiance shining bright in your eyes. "Maybe I do," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe I like the way you make me feel, the way you push me to my limits and make me crave more."

Gojo's eyes darkened at your words, and for a moment, you thought you saw something resembling desire flash in their depths. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that infuriating smirk once more.

"Well then," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "I think it's time we found out just how much you can take."

And with that, he brought the paddle down, the sound of it connecting with your skin echoing through the room as you cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

Gojo's eyes never left yours as he raised the crop, the air in the room charged with anticipation. You braced yourself, your heart pounding in your chest, but instead of bringing the crop down on your exposed skin, he merely traced it along your back, the leather cool against your heated flesh.

"Naughty girls don't get rewards, remember?" he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

"But maybe, just maybe, if you beg nicely..."

You gritted your teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing you plead. Instead, you met his gaze head-on, your defiance shining in your eyes.

"I won't beg, Gojo," you said, your voice steady despite the trembling in your limbs. "I won't give you the power to make me beg."

A slow smile spread across his face, and for a moment, you thought you saw something akin to admiration in his eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a predatory glint that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Oh, but you already have, my dear," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. "Your defiance, your determination... it's all a form of begging. Begging me to break you, to make you submit."

He leaned closer, his lips almost brushing against yours, and you could feel his breath on your skin. "But I'm not going to do that," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Not yet, anyway."

Gojo, however, was not one to give up so easily. He could see the fire in your eyes, the defiance that made his heart race. He loved it, craved it even. It was a challenge, and he was more than willing to rise to the occasion.

"Very well," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "If you won't submit willingly, then I'll have to make you."

With that, he reached into the cabinet and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Your eyes widened at the sight, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through your veins. You had never been into bondage before, but the thought of being completely at Gojo's mercy was intoxicating.

"Get on the bed," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. You hesitated for a moment, your mind racing, but ultimately, your curiosity and desire to experience this new form of play won out.

You climbed onto the bed, your heart pounding in your chest as Gojo approached. He grabbed your wrists, his touch firm but gentle, and secured the handcuffs around them. You tested the restraints, finding them secure, and a shiver of anticipation ran down your spine.

"Now, we'll see how defiant you are," Gojo murmured, his voice a soft growl as he loomed over you. He ran a hand down your body, his touch feather-light, and you couldn't help but shiver at the sensation.

He began to explore your body with his hands, his touch lingering on your most sensitive areas. Your breath hitched as he teased your nipples, rolling them between his fingers, and you felt a dampness between your legs.

"Spread your legs," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. You complied, feeling vulnerable and exposed, but also incredibly turned on. He ran his hands up your inner thighs, stopping just short of your aching core.

"Please," you whispered, your defiance crumbling in the face of your desire. "Please, touch me."

Gojo grinned, a predatory glint in his eye. "Finally, some submission," he purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction. He dipped his head between your legs, his tongue tracing your folds, and you gasped at the sensation.

He continued to pleasure you, his skilled tongue driving you to the brink of orgasm. Just as you were about to fall over the edge, he stopped, pulling away with a wicked grin.

"Not yet," he whispered, his voice a tantalizing promise. "You'll beg for it first." Gojo backed off the bed to strip himself of his clothing before returning on top of you.

"You're such a stubborn little thing," Gojo growled, his eyes dark with desire.

"But I love a challenge."

He straddled your face, his arousal pressing against your lips. You opened your mouth, and he forcefully thrust inside, fucking your mouth with abandon. He moaned as he thrust deeper, his grip on your hair tightening as he used your mouth for his pleasure.

"You like this, don't you?" he taunted, his voice heavy with lust. "Being used like a cheap whore, taking my cock down your throat."

You gagged and moaned around him, the sensations overwhelming as he continued to degrade you. Finally, with a grunt of satisfaction, he came, his release filling your mouth as you struggled to swallow it all.

He pulled away, a satisfied smirk on his face. "Now that's what I call a good girl," he said, his voice dripping with condescension.

But your defiance was not so easily broken. You glared up at him, your eyes blazing with determination. "I'm not done yet," you declared, your voice hoarse but strong.

Gojo's eyes widened in surprise, and then he laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "Oh, I can't wait to see what you have in store for me," he said, his voice full of anticipation.

He returned to his position beside you, his hand reaching out to tease your body once more. You braced yourself, ready for the next round of his relentless assault. You were determined to show him that you were not so easily broken, that your defiance would not be easily quashed. He began to tease you once more.

Gojo's smirk widened as he watched your defiance, the fire in your eyes only serving to fuel his own desire. He leaned down, his lips close to your ear as he whispered, "You want it so badly, don't you? To feel me inside you, to be filled and used."

His fingers teased your entrance, circling your clit before slipping inside you, his thumb rubbing circles over your sensitive nub. Your body trembled, your breath hitching as he brought you closer and closer to the edge of release, only to pull away at the last moment.

He then positioned himself between your legs, his tongue tracing the same path his fingers had just moments before. He teased your entrance with the tip of his tongue before delving inside, his hands gripping your hips as he feasted on your sweetness. Your body bucked, your cries of pleasure filling the room as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

"Please," you gasped, your voice barely audible as you pleaded with him. "Please, let me come."

Gojo's laughter echoed in your ears, a cruel sound that made your heart race. "Beg for it," he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "Beg me to fuck you."

You closed your eyes, your body shaking as you whispered the words he wanted to hear. "Please, fuck me. Use me. I'm your whore, your toy. Do whatever you want to me."

Satisfied with your submission, Gojo removed the handcuffs from your wrists, flipping you onto your stomach before pulling your arms behind your back and cuffing them together. He positioned himself at your entrance, his arousal pressing against your folds as he teased you with the tip.

"Are you ready to be fucked?" he asked, his voice heavy with desire.

"Yes," you gasped, your body trembling with need. "Please, fuck me. I need you inside me."

Gojo thrust forward, filling you completely as he began to pound into you from behind. Your cries of pleasure filled the room, your body trembling as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. And this time, when the pleasure threatened to overwhelm you, he didn't pull away. Instead, he drove you over the edge, your body shaking as you came undone around him.

Gojo's smirk widened as he gripped a handful of your hair, pulling your head back to expose your neck. He leaned down, his lips close to your ear as he whispered, "You're mine now, and I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk."

He slapped your ass, the sound echoing in the room as he began to pound into you from behind. His grip on your hair tightened, his other hand wrapping around your throat as he choked you, the pressure sending a thrill of fear and excitement through you.

"You like this, don't you?" he taunted, his voice heavy with lust. "Being used like a worthless whore, taking my cock from behind."

"Please," you gasped, your body trembling with need. "I need to come. Please let me come."

Gojo's laughter echoed in your ears, a cruel sound that made your heart race. "Beg for it," he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "Beg me to let you come."

You closed your eyes, your body shaking as you whispered the words he wanted to hear. "Please, let me come. I'm your dirty little whore.”

Gojo's thrusts grew more frantic, his grip on your hair tightening as he pulled your head back, exposing your neck to his biting kisses. He slapped your ass again, the sting mixing with the pleasure coursing through your body.

"You're so tight," he growled, his voice low and rough as he fucked you harder. "So fucking tight."

He choked you harder, the pressure sending a thrill of fear and excitement through you. It was a dangerous game, but you trusted him completely. He was in control, and you were his to use as he saw fit.

"Please," you gasped, your body trembling with need. "I need to come. Please let me come."

Gojo's laughter echoed in your ears, a cruel sound that made your heart race. "Beg for it," he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "Beg me to let you come."

You closed your eyes, your body shaking as you whispered the words he wanted to hear. "Please, let me come. I'm your good girl. I'll do anything you want.”

Gojo pulled out of you, flipping you onto your back before he repositioned your legs near your head. He loomed over you, his eyes dark with desire as he wrapped his hand around your throat, choking you as he slammed into you.

"You're so fucking wet," he growled, his voice low and rough as he fucked you harder. "Your pussy is gripping my cock so right baby.” Gojo moaned loudly, whimpers escaping his lips here and there.

He leaned down, his lips close to your ear as he whispered, "You like this, don't you? Being used and degraded like the dirty little slut you are."

His words degraded you, but they only served to fuel your desire. You were his to use, his toy to play with as he saw fit. And in that moment, as he fucked you rough and violent, you knew that you would never be satisfied with anything less.

The handcuffs dug into your back, but you didn't mind. The pain was a welcome distraction, a reminder that you were alive and at his mercy. You were his to use and abuse, his toy to play with as he saw fit. And as he choked you and fucked you harder, you knew that you were exactly where you wanted to be.

As Gojo continued to pound into you, he placed his hands on your throat. His grip tightened, the pressure making your head spin. His thrusts grew more erratic, more desperate as he chased his release. You could feel the coil in your stomach tightening, your own climax imminent.

"I'm going to fill your dirty little pussy up with every drop of my cum," he growled, his voice thick with lust and possessiveness. "You're going to cum with me, understand?"

You nodded, unable to form words around the pleasure coursing through your body. You were so close, so fucking close.

With a final, brutal thrust, Gojo came, his body shuddering as he filled you up with his seed. The sensation of him cumming inside you sent you over the edge, your body convulsing as you came around his cock.

He pulled out slowly, his spent length slipping from your body. You could feel his cum running down your thighs, mixing with your own juices. You lay there, panting and spent, your body aching in the best possible way.

Gojo loomed over you, his eyes dark and satisfied as he watched you. "You did well," he said, his voice low and approving. "You were a good little slut for me."

You smiled up at him, your body still buzzing from the aftershocks of your shared climax. You were his, his toy to use and abuse as he saw fit. And in that moment, as you lay there covered in his cum, you knew that you would never be satisfied with anything less.

HOPE YALL ENJOYED!

[nimzajsstuff]

UNTIL THE RAIN DIDN’T POUR. CSN 18+

Masterlist

!AGELESS BLOGS AND MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

Pairing: Florist!San x afab!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Romance, 18+ (Eventual Smut), Strangers to Lovers

cw: mentions of death, panic attacks, thoughts of sh, depictions of grief and loss, mentions of being depressed, self-blame, slow burn, eventual smut (More detailed cw added as each chapter is posted)

Synopsis: Y/N's life is turned upside down when her younger sister, Dahlia, dies in an accident on a rainy day. Y/N is left struggling with grief, denial and panic attacks during rainy days. What was once a cheerful and colorful home, it now grows cold and distant and she isolates herself further away from her parents and loved ones to deal with her own grief.

Until one day, she accidentally finds herself wandering upon a small flower shop called Byeol's Flowers, owned by a kind, quiet florist named Choi San. The shop welcomed her with a sense of calm, and San, without ever pushing for details, gave her a flower that expresses what she was feeling.

As Y/N’s visits to San's shop become more frequent, a quiet and peaceful bond grows between them. San shares his loss, and Y/N starts to find a peace of mind until her parents urge her to move on from her sister, putting pressure on her healing.

Everything she has tried to heal gets torn between guilt and the possibility of moving forward, Y/N distances herself from everything for a few days, wondering if her grief has affected the people she has grown close to. But one night, she returns to San’s door no longer afraid and ready to face the future with him.

[ a/n: Hello! My name is Jazmin (Jaz) and this is my first series that I am excited to announce. This isn’t my first time writing fanfics, series or smut but it’s my first time as someone who has evolved in understanding what they are writing. I do not have a determined date set as to when the series’ first chapter will be out as I am facing some personal issues (Starting school and finding a new job :/….) but please know I am currently working on this in my free time and doing thorough research about certain topics that will be included in this series! Also if you have any recs on what you would like to be apart of this series, pls do tell me your ideas! :)

Also a little more abt me! I love halloween… So I do enjoy horror concepts! I want my next series to be a bit spooky and interactive (heavily inspired by the AU Outcast that trended on twt some time ago) ]

Release Date: TBD

Chapter 1: The Last Storm

Chapter 2: The Weight of Silence

Chapter 3: Wrong Turn

Chapter 4: Petals & Stems

Chapter 5: The Flower with No Meaning

Chapter 6: Lavender & Fear

Chapter 7: Night Blooms

Chapter 8: Dahlia’s Song

Chapter 9: The Flower That Never Blooms

Chapter 10: Names and Meaning

Chapter 11: The Thunder

Chapter 12: First Touch

Chapter 13: Tension Blossoms

Chapter 14: The Thing About Grief

Chapter 15: We Don’t Say It

Chapter 16: The Flower Blooms

Chapter 17: Under the Rain

Chapter 18: In Bloom

Bonus Chapter: ???

[jenn2sec]

English vers.

Based On My Dreams Series (RAW):

❝ Chase ❞

start - friday31022025

couple - Choi Seung Hyun (T.O.P) x fem!reader

note - softly, badwords(maybe?), Han Seo Hee (im a biggest hater), short

caption section - this short-fanfic is based on my dream, the only difference i edited is a little bit and the area where they interact, the rest is kept the same as in the dream. so i kept the presence of Han Seo Hee (who appeared in my dream). And remember, Han SEO Hee not Han SOO Hee!!!

We’re always open to feedback and ideas to make the story better!

The kids were ushered away from the playground right after you managed to call security. That woman, however, kept pushing forward, calling out to T.O.P repeatedly. But you stepped in, blocking her way.

“Please, just shut the hell up! And then get lost!!”

She kept advancing like a madwoman, teasing and provoking Seung Hyun as if she were high. In a fit of anger, you even grabbed a handful of the playground sand and held it up, threatening to throw it at her. Only then did Han Seo Hee curse under her breath and storm off.

“That woman… ugh"

You turned back to the slide, the tall tube one. Scanning around, you didn’t see T.O.P anywhere. Thinking he had already left, you let out a small sigh. But then, a faint creaking sound came from inside the slide.

Looking closer, you noticed a large shadow within it. After a brief moment of hesitation, you decided to crawl in as well.

“Seung Hyun-ah…” you called softly.

Since you weren’t Korean and didn’t fully understand the cultural nuances, you instinctively called him by his name. The moment you realized it might be too informal, you quickly pressed your lips together, staying silent.

T.O.P didn’t reply. Instead, he hesitantly lifted his gaze, looking directly into your eyes. His long, thick lashes and sharp nose made you hold your breath for a moment. The space between you two felt like it was shrinking, tightening with an unspoken tension.

The positioning was… strange, to say the least. T.O.P, being tall, was lying flat inside the tube slide, while you were halfway inside, lying on the playground floor. Your heads met near the opening of the slide, making it look like two adults playing a children’s game. Yet, somehow, the atmosphere between you both shifted into something much more intense—just from his sheer beauty.

Fine, maybe you were being immature, but could you really be blamed?!

“Are you okay?” You asked, knowing full well how pointless the question was. So, without waiting for an answer, you quickly changed the subject: “There’s an ice cream shop nearby. Do you want to go there with me?”

He exhaled, a deep and shaky breath, closing his eyes before resting his forehead against the slide. Just as he was about to answer, your hand moved on its own, reaching out to touch his hair.

“Seung… Seung Hyun-ssi, I chased that woman away.”

“You don’t have to be afraid anymore. I’ll chase away everything that upsets you.”

“So… let’s go get some ice cream, okay? They have peach flavor—I researched carefully for today.”

Choi Seung Hyun studied you quietly. His lashes were slightly damp, probably from Han Seo Hee’s presence earlier. His lips, too. Maybe he had shed a few tears while you were dealing with that woman. Right now, he looked like a kid who had just stopped crying—one who was listening to his mother promise him sweet treats to cheer him up. Happy about the candy, but secretly wishing for a bigger gift.

Looking at him like this, you couldn’t help but smile, your eyes crinkling slightly as you admired his beautiful yet childlike face.

“I promise it won’t trigger your allergies. That place is really careful. The ice cream is made from real fruit.”

Your voice lifted a pitch or two, becoming brighter, lighter. And it made T.O.P smile. He pouted slightly before speaking, his deep voice laced with playful mischief.

”________”

_____

F i x a r a w S o f t e n

friday31022025

05:50

︾︾︾︾︾︾︾

to speed things up and because my english isn’t really that good, i decided to use a translation tool to help with the language switch.

this short-fanfic is based on my dream, the only difference i edited is a little bit and the area where they interact, the rest is kept the same as in the dream. so i kept the presence of Han Seo Hee (who appeared in my dream). im sorrynot sorry if i made Han Seo Hee fans unhappy with the way i dreamed about her(ngl, im her big hater for all the nightmares she bring to anyone around her). And remember, Han SEO Hee not Han SOO Hee!!!

anyway, this post is a small part of my dream and i post it for reference, if i get support from you guys i'll continue it with a more complete plot! leave a comment or interact to let me know that this is really ok!!!

hope you all understand and enjoy ♡