#but i struggle with the last quarter of this fic

[hjemne]

Had to put a fanfic down because of its inaccuracies in copyright law

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

*NSFW* How to train your pet Human pt. 3 (Yandere!Alien x GN!Reader)

CW: Dub-con, mild psychological distress, mind break, dead dove fic

Part 1, part 2

Kirtch slumped over his friend's standing chair, miserable and mopey.

A tall creature, taller than even Kirtch, sighed dramatically, sauntering around their depressed friend with a smaller horned being crawling behind them.

"I don't understand what I'm doing wrong." Kirtch whined pathetically in Jaudna's native tongue. Jaudna made a gurgling sound with the soft spot on their head, the closest human equivalent being someone rolling their eyes. They sprawled across their lounging seat, motioning for their pet to stay on his knees.

"I'll tell you exactly what you've done wrong. You pampered them too much."

"I punish them!"

"You punished them for their escape attempt. That was it. You've allowed your pet to test your authority in plenty of ways after that."

The man on his knees pleaded with his eyes to be let up, but stayed perfectly still, like he wasn't alive. Kirtch noted Jaudna's pet's demeanor with discomfort. That discomfort only lasted until he imagined (Reader) in that same position, looking up at him with their large dewy eyes, waiting so patiently to be held by him... his discomfort was replaced by jealousy.

"You don't understand, (Reader's) such a sweet little pet, and whenever they struggle they're so cute about it. I just can't understand why they aren't happy."

"Humans' minds are incredibly flawed. According to the few psychological texts I have gotten my claws on over the years, their memory is not set in stone like ours, it is fickle and easily manipulated. One of my books referenced a case in the nation called 'The United States of America' where nearly the entire country fell into panic over an imaginary evil, because a few doctors used a phoney science called 'hypnotism', a practice they believed could help recover forgotten memories, on a bunch of children, but accidentally implanted false memories of abuse, leaving the children traumatized, believing that they had been victims of a horrific occult."

Kirtch looked to his good friend nervously. "Are you implying I do something nefarious to my pet's mind?"

"No, I'm showcasing an example of how stupidly easy it should be to train your pet to love you." They tossed a book into Kirtch's hands, the cover printed with a photograph of a wild looking man, with fluffy hair and dark, hateful eyes. "Hypnotism isn't the only creative way humans have learned to reprogram each other."

Kirtch almost threw the book back, but saw Jaudna's unnamed pet still sitting so patiently for his master, and the pain in his body where his heart may have been throbbed again. "Thank you.. Jaudna."

(Reader) had waited for what they assumed to be well over an Earth day, alone in Kirtch's quarters, waiting for his return. The only company they received were the employees who brought their meals, speaking down at them in a language they didn't know, but could understand the disgust. It had been over a month since their fight with Kirtch. Every day since had been nothing but hell, feeling like their heart had been ripped out, they laid in their bed cage, only moving when necessary, allowing themselves to hide away inside their own mind.

The main door opened again, and (Reader) could hear Kirtch's long, graceful steps as he passed through the study and into the bedroom. "(Reader)? Are you still in bed?"

In an act of defiance, (Reader) kept their mouth shut, pulling the blanket tighter around their shoulders. But it was of little use, as Kirtch easily lifted their purposefully dead weighted body out of the bed.

"I'm sorry I was gone for so long, pet, but I had to see an old friend for advice." He carried (Reader) back to his desk, sitting them in his lap, fighting to hold them upright as they flopped about limply. "(Reader), please sit up so I can take off your shirt."

He began working on the wrists, the intricate metal cuffs with multiple buttons that almost acted like locks, and (Reader) subtly straightened their back to give him better access to the neck corset thing, thankful to finally have it off for a couple hours at least. (Reader) had grown to find it somewhat elegant the past few months, but it still was an incredible pain in the ass.

Feeling the air on their neck was bliss, and (Reader) immediately ran their fingers over their skin. (Reader) breathed a deep sigh, relaxing their body unintentionally. But almost as soon as their hands left their throat, a new collar was latched into place, a loud mechanism clicking as it tightened, stabbing the back of their neck with what felt like a fixed needle.

(Reader) cried out in pain, sprawling out their limbs on reflex, pushing themselves out of Kirtch's embrace and onto the floor, lying naked on their knees as they clawed at the collar, desperate to relieve the pain.

"What?? Why?" Their voice was barely audible through their sobs.

"I'm so sorry my pet, the pain will end soon, wait-" Kirtch pushed a button on what looked like a remote, and (Reader) could physically feel the rush of liquid enter their body, then the pain lightened, leaving (Reader) almost euphoric in it's absence.

"What is this? Why did you do this?" Betrayal laced their tone, and Kirtch looked almost on the verge of tears, but he stood still, refusing his urge to scoop up his little pet and beg for forgiveness.

"I know now that I didn't train you correctly, and for that I am sorry. I've given you too much leeway, and that is why you've been so unhappy." He took a ragged breath, thumbing the controller as he thought out his words. "I didn't want to do this, but I care about your happiness. This is for the best."

"So you put a shock collar on me?" (Reader) asked incredulously, spitting venom.

"No, nothing barbaric like that!" Kirtch looked hurt, flinching as he almost dropped onto his knees to comfort (Reader). "I just need to convince you that you're happy here with me, just as I did the first night you were here, to help you release your stress."

(Reader) remembered the shot he gave them, that first night when Kirtch used a toy to get them off, the hormones he artificially added to their body to make them feel pleasure, and then thought about the pain in the back of their neck. The color drained from their face. There were only two options; plead or double down.

"You can manipulate me all you like, I'll never be happy here." A tear escaped as (Reader) transformed their hurt into anger. "I deserve someone who will love me, not as a pet, but as an equal. Because I am a human fucking being. And we have partnerships. We don't jack off our pets, we do not love our pets like we love the people we have sex with, because that- that is not okay! Why did you.." (Reader) couldn't stop themselves from crying, looking up to try to at least slow the waterworks.

The silence between them was loud. (Reader) turned away, wiping away their snot with their bare arms.

"Pet, noun; a domestic or tamed animal kept for companionship or pleasure. Adjective; denoting a thing that one devotes special attention to or feels particularly strongly about." (Reader) looked up, horrified. "Your's may not be my first language, but I feel I had a pretty decent grasp on my understanding of what a pet is."

Kirtch placed a hand over his face to hide his expression.

"You'll be happier once this is all over. I promise."

"You son of a-!" (Reader) couldn't finish their sentence, more fluid passed into their spine, followed by an immediate sense of emptiness. Extreme anxiety flooded their body, causing severe stomach pain almost instantly. They collapsed, holding onto their midsection, their bare skin clammy. "What? Why?"

"No more talking back to me, pet." Kirtch kept his voice steady.

(Reader) cried out, rapidly becoming exhausted from heavy nothingness filling their body. "Please.. stop.."

Kirtch nodded, appearing relieved. He pushed another button, and the emptiness ebbed away, leaving (Reader) numb.

"I don't understand why you're doing this." (Reader) weakly grumbled, too tired to pick themselves up.

"Because I want you to be happy."

"I'll never be happy with you."

"Why?"

"Because! I deserve to be loved!"

"I love you-"

"Fucking liar." (Reader) snarled, knowing that this would cause them to be punished again, but needing to get in the last word. Kirtch looked so miserable, so crushed by (Reader's) words, but they felt vindicated by his pain. They needed to twist the knife deeper.

He smiled, so sadly, and grabbed a blanket, bending onto one knee as he covered his pet. "I love you, (Reader)."

Their heart clenched, and their face flushed. Immediately they searched his hands for the remote. "S-stop that."

"I love you."

Chemicals pumped into their neck, making (Reader) feverish and causing their thighs to ache. Their breath hitched, and tears of betrayal escaped. "I hate you."

"I know."

More pain gripped their throat, regret causing physical discomfort. "Why are you doing this?"

His smooth shelled fingers caressed their jaw, tenderly cradling (Reader's) face as though he needed them. Kirtch's touch sent shivers across (Reader's) skin, and they couldn't tell if it was because of the collar or their loneliness, but they wanted to pull him closer, make him touch them more.

"I will live for much longer than you. I will watch you grown old, and die. Even then, I will still love you. You are the most incredible creature I've ever met. I don't mind if you push me away, and slap at me. I just want you to be happy, at least most of the time." His head grew closer, his hardened face almost brushing (Reader's). "Let me make you happy."

'I need to fight back. Make him pay! I'm practically a slave! He bought me! I'll never see my family again because of him!'

(Reader) leaned forward, mind melting through their ears from the intense heat, and smashed their lips onto where his should have been.

All rational thoughts were drowned out by the intense need. They needed him, his love. (Reader) was aware of the sound of buttons clicking, but they couldn't stop, crawling onto Kirtch's body, feeling the edges of his joints scraping their back as his hands hungrily roamed their body, wanting to touch everything.

They would have felt ashamed, knowing how aroused they were, their exposed body touching Kirtch's stomach. Sweat was clinging to (Reader's) skin, and their eyes drooped stupidly. The only thing they could think of was relieving themselves, and wanting to see Kirtch relieved as well.

"Are you going to fuck me?" (Reader) whined between wet kisses, drunk on his touches.

"I will, if you want me to."

Their mood shifted, frustration beginning to surface again. "No. If you love me, wouldn't you want me?"

Kirtch sighed, fiddling with the remote behind (Reader's) back. "I do not have the same nervous system as humans do. We only engage in sexual acts for the purpose of procreation."

Shame shocked (Reader), sobering them up instantly. "Oh. I- I am so sorry." (Reader) moved to get off of Kirtch, but was held in place by the much stronger being.

"I will, to make you happy."

"No, I'm sorry! It won't make me happy knowing you aren't feeling good. I'm-I'm sorry, please let me go."

Kirtch pressed the button again, watching his pet's face darken and their mouth go from frightened to slack jawed. "Knowing you are feeling pleasure, from me, and only me, will bring me more joy than I can express." His cloak was ripped away, revealing his gorgeously colored exoskeleton. Kirtch gripped (Reader's) face tighter, forcing his blue tongue deep into their mouth, bursting with pride at the sounds (Reader) was making.

"What do you want me to do?" Kirtch asked, not intending on sounding like he was teasing them, but Kirtch craved the sound of their voice begging him.

"Please.." (Reader) swallowed their drool, feeling the hormones pumping into their brain, but too horny to care. "Please fuck me."

The spot on his pelvis where a human's genitals would be split open and a long, slimy cock revealed itself, growing behind (Reader's) back to a horrifying size. (Reader) only became aware of his erection when it fell forward, slapping against (Reader's) ass and lower back. In their intoxicated state, they turned back to look at what had suddenly touched them, and their eyes grew large in surprise. "Is that..? That's too big..."

Off balance and tipsy, (Reader) turned around, still sitting on Kirtch's abdomen, so that they were facing his exposed dick, and touched it experimentally. It was ridiculously huge, but because of the hormones being injected into (Reader's) neck, they were ravenous, using both hands to pump up and down on the shaft as they stuck the thin tipped head into their mouth, tasting Kirtch passionately. Kirtch was beyond elated, watching his precious pet so needy for him.

Kirtch picked (Reader) up, moaning at the popping sound as he pulled their mouth away from his body, seeing nothing but love in (Reader's) eyes as he spun them back to face him, and slowly began lowering (Reader) onto his naturally lubricated member. "Keep looking at me."

(Reader's) mind was hazy, and it felt like they were about to die, saliva and alien fluids leaking out their mouth and down their chin. Their internal voice had gone silent, the amount of tampering that had been done to their brain left (Reader) devoid of rational thought and intellect. "Yes sir." They barely got the words out as Kirtch entered their body, sliding into their needy little hole easily and without resistance, ramming himself in so their pelvis smacked into his shell with a wet plop, bringing (Reader) to a climax just from entering.

"Smile for me, pet." Kirtch cooed joyfully, loving how (Reader's) body spasmed, before slowly lifting them up, revealing the trail of their combined wetness stretching between their reproductive organs.

(Reader) smiled, reacting on autopilot as they rode out their orgasm, practically biting off their tongue when their sensitive body connected with Kirtch's again. "Ahhh, I already came! Stop!!" Their words cried for relief, however their voice and smile demanded more. It was too much, and (Reader) did want a break, but it also felt amazing, and that dirty little part of themselves that was desperate for love needed their body to be abused.

Kirtch bounced (Reader) on his cock, fucking them like a toy, regretting that he didn't have a camera rolling to capture just how adorable his pet was in his hands. "Look at how happy you are, pet! Don't you want to be this happy all the time? Don't you always want to be happy, with me?"

Kirtch greedily pushed the button again, peppering (Reader) with kisses as they came again, their sticky juices splattering on his stomach. The squelching sound of (Reader's) bruising body getting fucked by the hard as steel monster beneath them was music to Kirtch's ears. He had, embarrassingly, read the book his friend had lent him, and knew now how humans used pleasure to keep brainwashed people by their side. But it wasn't just pleasure, it was that feeling of connection. He had thought about what (Reader) had said, that humans don't jack off their pets, and that made sense, for animals that did not share the same level of intelligence as an adult human. What (Reader) needed, was to feel equal, to feel like they weren't just a pet, but a partner. So how would they feel, if Kirtch ejaculated so deep into their body they were still excreting his cum weeks later?

"I'm going to mark you as mine, (Reader)." It was a lie, his species did no such thing, but the look of unbridled joy on (Reader's) cross eyed face, the loopy smile that twitched as tears poured down to their chest, was a sight that made it worth lying.

"Are you cumming? Are you cumming in me?" (Reader) slurred, barely holding themselves upright in Kirtch's grasp.

"If you promise to be a good little pet." Kirtch could hold out for as long as needed. His species did not have sex for pleasure, so there was no sense of urgency when they needed to release. He could have continued going for hours, if he hadn't overdone it with the collar. (Reader) was on the verge of passing out.

"I promise! I promise to be a good pet! I promise!" (Reader) exclaimed, colliding their lips back onto Kirtch's as a string of hot sperm shot up into (Reader's) body, a fluid so thick it was practically glue, leaving (Reader) feeling physically full. Kirtch couldn't help but push the button again, seeing his pet overflow with adoration for him.

"I love you, (Reader), I really really do."

Kirtch whispered sweet nothing's into his pet's ear as they passed out, then carried them to his bed, tucking in their swollen body, not minding the mess. (Reader) really was the most beautiful and adorable little pet in the entire universe. He doubt that he would ever get another pet after (Reader) was gone. He sat on the floor, rubbing circles into their tear stained cheeks, smiling contently.

Of course, the next day Kirtch would have to use the collar, showing (Reader) how bad they truly felt inside when they refused to get out of bed, and while it was awful making them cry when they tried to refuse to eat, it was for the best. Kirtch knew it wouldn't take long for (Reader) to graduate from needing their collar, and that soon they would always be by his side, begging him to pick them up and play with them. It didn't matter whether (Reader) needed cuddles or needed to be filled with his seed, Kirtch would overuse that remote until they desired his touch all the time.

He didn't mind the glassy, doll like glaze to their eyes, the change in their speech, the way they began crying whenever it looked like Kirtch was unhappy, or how they stopped pushing him away. After months of flushing their system with artificial love, Kirtch knew that his pet was happy with him. And that was all that mattered.

[syddsatyrn]

⛧Devotion is Love with Wings⛧ Chapter Two: Emotions Unveiled

Ch1 / Ch2 / Ch3 / Ch4

⛧Pairing: - Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

⛧Warnings: Alcohol, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, king x servant, panic attack, heartbreak, happy ending.

⛧Words: 2.5K

⛧Summary: Feelings surface and the line between duty and desire begins to blur. Admitting your feelings to the King of Hell could be the best or worst thing that's ever happened to you. Lucifer battles with his own internal struggles in silence.

⛧Notes: Ask and you shall receive, my dears! You all asked me for a part two so here we go! Keep an eye out for my next fic because its time for some Alastor content! My beta reader is @hellfiremunsonn and she deserve all the rainbows and cupcakes.

⛧Tag list: @loslox @tiedyedghoulette @naiadic

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As the soft rays of the morning sun seeped through the velvet curtains, you slowly opened your eyes, blinking a few times, adjusting to the gentle light. Despite the room still cloaked in soothing darkness, you knew you were in Lucifer's room. It takes you a moment to recall last night's events. You feel his breath on the back of your neck and his arm around your midsection. You can feel your face get hotter with every detail you take in. He is comfortably curled up behind you sound asleep. He needs rest, you’re afraid to move a muscle and wake him. You look over at the clock on the wall, you both are extremely late for breakfast.

“...Shit.” You say under your breath. Lucifer begins to move slightly, he lets out a soft hum and holds you just a bit closer. You can’t tell if he’s awake or not, even though you truly did not want to get out of bed, it had to be done. You slowly sit up and turn around, you almost place your hand on his shoulder but you take a moment to admire his sweet sleeping face. Instead, you gently place your hand on his cheek. Lucifer’s eyes flutter open, he meets your gaze and gives you a sleepy smile.

“Good morning…” He says softly while holding your wrist, keeping your hand on his cheek. You wanted to pull away, but his eyes made you want to just crawl back into his arms and go back to sleep.

“G-Good Morning, sir.” You stutter a little, Lucifer’s smile turns into a small smirk, he is amused by how flustered you are. He finally lets go and you try to compose yourself, but it's hard to do so when he looks so cute.

“I’ll go get some coffee, it looks like we slept in.” You finally break the spell he had on you and crawl out of his bed. When you leave, Lucifer immediately misses your presence close to him, having you next to him made a significant difference in his mood and sleep. It was the first time he’d felt the warmth of another person in a long time, and now that he’s had a taste, he wants more.

You head down the hall to your room, when you enter you quickly shut the door, thankful no one saw you. You get dressed in your uniform and head downstairs to the kitchen. While you made coffee, the staff were surprised to see you so late into the morning. You make up a quick excuse, stating you were not feeling well but you’re doing much better now so it's nothing to worry about.

You take two cups of coffee upstairs on a silver tray, and you do your best to mentally shift into work mode, but you can't stop thinking about last night. You return to his room, the king is still in bed, sporting a satisfied look on his face. You hand him his coffee and place the tray on the bedside table. 

“Thank you, my dear.” He says and gestures for you to sit on the bed, so you take your cup from the tray and have a seat.

“I want to apologize.” You start, and he looks at you with a raised brow. “I shouldn't have fallen asleep in your quarters. That was inappropriate of me.”

“I’m gonna stop you there, you do exactly what is asked of you. Everything you do is for my benefit. I could never be upset with you for something like that.” He says with a gentle voice. His gold eyes soften as he realizes you’re being serious.

“Thank you…” You reply, just barely above a whisper. His words made you feel a little better, you only want to do what's best for your king…but sometimes you can get carried away. You would do anything for him, that includes bending the rules.

“Now stop sulking.” He says and crawls over to you, sitting beside you on the bed. He is seated rather close, you look away trying to hide your red face. He turns your face back towards him using his index finger and thumb. “You’re too pretty to be so sad.”

“Y-You forget yourself, sir.” You stutter, barely keeping it together. You finish your coffee and return the cup to the tray. When you stand up and walk towards the wardrobe, Lucifer chuckles at your attempt to remain dignified. He is knocking down walls with the way he speaks to you. Breaking down each professional boundary one at a time. His touch was setting you on fire and you were running out of ways to extinguish it.

You sort through his clothes and pull out a black suit with red and white embellishments. You set it on the corner of the bed like you always do. “I’ll make sure I have your lunch ready for you in your study, sir” You say quickly, with a red blush spread across your face, you take the tray and quickly excuse yourself.

You rush down the hall and back to your room. Your chest heaves and you're out of breath. What in the devil's name happened there?! He looked like he was going to kiss you, his face was so close and he called you pretty! What is this idiot doing? You cover your face with your sleeves and pace back and forth in your room.

You always prided yourself on your composure. You navigate life’s twists and turns with a steady hand and a level head. At first, you brushed off these fluttering feelings as a mere passing fancy. You find yourself in front of a mental crossroads, on one hand, there is the exhilarating rush of new emotions. On the other was fear of rejection, an unconventional relationship, and possible heartbreak. If you ruin what you have with Lucifer, you will end up with nothing. All your years climbing the hierarchy would be null and void.

But what if it was possible? No, it couldn't be, there was just no way. As far as you are aware, you’ve never heard of such a situation that ended well. This can’t possibly be happening, you need some time to sort yourself out. But at some point, you are going to see him again today and you’re not sure how you’ll handle it. You always buried your feelings deep within your heart, locking them away like a precious treasure hidden from prying eyes. You’d like to think you're capable of continuing this facade, but this time you are not so sure.

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

Lucifer sighs as you leave the room, your reactions are rather fascinating though. He gets up and takes his clothes to the bathroom to dress himself. Lucifer is well aware of the power dynamic here, and he has a habit of pushing things as far as he can. It comes with the territory of normally having anything he wants. He buttons his vest and looks at himself in the mirror. So what if he had a thing for his advisor? He wonders if he’s just lonely and that’s why he’s acting this way…even if that was true, it wouldn’t explain the relief he feels every time you enter a room. He puts on his coat, straightens his hat, and leaves his room to spend time in his study. 

He opens the door and notices his lunch is sitting on his desk along with some invoices to sign and an overview of yesterday's meeting. This is unusual, you normally bring him his meal and check in on his daily progress at this time. This is cause for concern, indeed. Was Y/N avoiding him? Surely that can't be true, they would never just ignore him like that. He slumps into his chair, wondering if he messed up somehow. 

Did he ruin the years of trust they had built? He still wants her around, he would hate the idea of anyone else taking your place. The more he thought about it the more the pit in his stomach grew. He attempts to eat but can’t put down much food, his nerves are making it difficult to eat. He needs to find you and apologize, he has to make this right somehow. 

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

Hours go by and you’ve done your best to avoid Lucifer at all costs, but you can't keep this up forever. You are standing on a large balcony in the dining room wearing your pajamas. The sun has set and the stars are visible in the sky, there is a chill in the air. You let out a defeated sigh, you’re going to have to tell him or forget about your feelings completely. You fear that if you confessed your love, the delicate threads that bind you both together would fray and snap. If you forget and try to move on, how bad is it going to hurt when he finds a new love? It would ache so bad you might have to leave his manor entirely, you knew that if that were to happen, it would shatter Lucifer's heart.

You feel a few drops of rain fall on your skin, and as each minute passes the rain becomes heavier and heavier. You look out into the courtyard, it’s getting late and you should be heading inside but you stand there, tears in your eyes. How could you be so foolish and self-centered? You knew the rules and you chose to defy them, it's your own fault you feel so awful.

Suddenly the rain is no longer hitting you, you don't feel the cold drops on your face anymore. You turn around and Lucifer is standing in the doorway, his large wing covers you, shielding you from the rain.

“Hey…Can we talk?” He says with a soft look of concern on his face. You nod while wiping your face with your sleeves, he motions for you to come back inside. He walks slightly ahead of you, leading you upstairs to his bedroom. He opens the door for you and gives you a small half-smile. Lucifer walks over to his desk and pours you both a glass of bourbon. He hands you a glass and you take a seat at the small table next to the window. He sits across from you, you can tell he's a bit anxious because he keeps looking away. You take a sip from your drink, hoping the alcohol will settle your nerves. 

The ambiance of the dimly lit room, the soft glow of candlelight danced upon his face. With a hesitant breath, Lucifer cleared his throat. 

“I need to apologize to you,” Lucifer says with a despairing look on his face. “I’m sure you’ve felt confused and in distress all day.” He takes a sip of his drink while trying to find the right words. “Before I begin, let me just say that I think so highly of you. Y/N, you’ve been there for me during every awful situation I’ve faced and I am so grateful for you.”

He grabs your hand and his expression changes to a more serious one. “I don't want you to leave my side. I couldn’t bear it if I did something to make you leave.”

“Sir, I–” You try to speak but Lucifer interrupts you.

“Y/N. I need you to drop the formalities for ten minutes, please.” He cuts you off and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Is there something going on between us or am I just a lonely, divorced, delusional, man making it all up in my head so I don't feel so shitty about my life?”

You are shocked by his words, you had no idea he felt that way about himself. 

“You’re not delusional, Lucifer.” You answer, it takes you a moment to gather your thoughts and put them in order. “It's all my fault, really. I guess after all this time I’ve developed some feelings.”

Lucifer’s eyes widen, his face softens and he squeezes your hand and you look back into his eyes with a small smile. “I think I just got carried away, I know nothing can happen between us. It would be unacceptable and irredeemable. I’m the delusional one, to think you could ever love someone like me.” You reply while looking down at your drink, your finger toying with the rim of the glass.

Without a word, without warning, Lucifer leaned over the table and grabbed ahold of your shirt. He pulls you close so that you are face to face, leaning over the table. You could feel his breath on your lips as he said, “Love doesn't adhere to rules or expectations, darling. I will choose to defy every convention, every decree if it means I get to spend the rest of my life devoted to someone I love.”

Tears started to well up in your eyes, he slowly closed the gap between you both. His lips softly pressed against yours. Time stopped in that moment, amidst the chaos of entangled emotions. The taste was bittersweet, you’ve only ever dreamed of this. His hand lets go of your shirt and caresses your face. You kiss him back with fervor, a silent confession that speaks volumes. Both of you daring to defy the boundaries of monarchy and courtier.

You lace your fingers with his, he stands up and pulls you out of your seat. You practically fell into his arms, Lucifer held the back of your head, the other arm wrapped around your waist.

Your tears flowed freely as you hid your face in his chest. He holds you tight, offering you silent comfort as you let out quiet sobs. Lucifer strokes your hair and kisses the top of your head.

“I’m sorry it took so long for me to realize…” He says, barely above a whisper. “Just let me take care of you for once, my love.” Before you can protest, Lucifer scoops you up and gently places you on his bed. He climbs in and pulls the covers over you both. He wipes your tear-stained cheeks with his sleeve and smiles at you while you take the time you need to calm down. 

“C’mon, babe say something…You’re killing me.” He says, waiting for you to speak with bated breath.

“I love you…” You say between staggered breaths. Your eyes are locked on his, somehow Lucifer blows through the many walls you’ve put up to prevent this and you are left bare and vulnerable. It is terrifying, being this helplessly in love. Bearing the fragments of your heart to the person who held it entirely.

“I love you too, dummy.” His smile is sweet like saccharine, his voice is smooth like silk. Your lips met his once more while your fingers card through his hair. He kept you as close as possible, and in the hush of the night amidst the whispered confessions, you and your king curled up together and fell asleep once again in each other's arms. No sovereign, demon or angel could pull you two apart even if they tried. 

[foreingersgod]

End of the Day . CC

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

synopsis: caitlin’s rookie year hasn’t been going as smoothly as she had planned and it’s starting to take a toll on her. at least she has you there for her at the end of every game

WARNING: by no means, because i’m defending caitlin, will i tolerate any sort of racism/sexism on this post or on my page in general. just because we want to support her doesn’t mean we need to say completely unnecessary and racist things about other players. if there is anything of the sort, you will be blocked! this post has nothing to do with ANYONE except caitlin so please remember to be kind and respectful! this fic is meant to be a cute hurt/comfort scenario about struggling as a rookie, please don’t make it into something it’s not :)

every game was agonizing for you to watch. whether you were sat on the couch in front of the TV or sitting somewhere up in the stands, watching caitlin take hit after hit was too much for you to watch. it broke your heart every single time, knowing that with each passing game, it was harder and harder for her to stay optimistic. your sweet and energetic girlfriend now seemed completely wiped out and drained. you heard her meek responses to the press, claiming that it was all “just how basketball was”, but you knew her better than that. you knew it was starting to take a toll on her, caitlin would never call something like this just part of the game.

you often had to close your eyes while watching these games. you hated the way they pushed her around like she was anything less of a player, how she would fall to the ground and squeeze her eyes shut in pain. it made your blood boil to see how much pain she was in. the urge to march down to the court floors and take on these women head on was constantly sitting in the back of your mind. there had been times you had to step outside of the stadium to take a breathe, trying to reassure yourself that cailtin was alright and had it under control.

and she did, she had gotten quite good at keeping a relaxed demeanor despite the physicality on the court. there were times were she would slip up though, letting her temper get the best of her, but she never took it too far and always reminded you that she could handle it. you knew deep down that caitlin only stayed so calm because of you. the last thing she wanted was to upset or worry you, make a big scene that she knew you’d evidently witness. as much as caitlin wanted to scream and argue and fight back, she couldn’t bare the thought of you watching her lose her cool. so she suffered in silence, something she had a habit of, aware of how mad it made you. you wanted nothing more than to comfort her in these times of need, but she was too stubborn to cave in.

it wasn’t until tonight, though, that she had finally reached her breaking point. this last game being the straw that broke the camels back. you hadn’t known what it was, whether it was the flagrant foul or the snide comments made off the court, but it cut caitlin deeper than the rest. unfortunately, you weren’t able to attend this particular game. work ended up being crazy busy and you had to stay longer, cutting into about 30 minutes of game time. you had warned caitlin before the game started, letting her know that you would be watching her from home and that you’d be cheering her on like always.

you don’t think you could get the image out of your head, the moment replaying in your head well after the game had ended. you had settled down on the couch with your ‘22’ t-shirt on and a loose blanket thrown over your lap, watching the game with your jaw clenched. you wanted so badly to stay hopeful tonight, trying to keep a positive mindset. but as the 3rd quarter rolled around, your hopes were quickly diminished. you watched one of the opponents come up behind caitlin, decking her in the shoulder so hard that she was thrown relentlessly to the ground. you cringed in dismay. you sat through the remnants of the game totally gutted for your girlfriend knowing that she’d be beating herself up when she walked through the doors of your home.

once the game had ended, you moseyed your way to the bedroom. after your nightly routine you crawled into bed and pulled out your book, waiting for caitlin’s arrival. you hated when she wasn’t here, the bed colder and lonelier than you’d have liked. it was hard to focus on the words littered across the novels pages as anticipation spread through your body. about 30 minutes had passed when you finally heard the obnoxious screeching of the front doors hinges. a wave of relief washed over you as you listened to familiar foot steps trail throughout the kitchen, eventually padding their way up the stairs.

then she came into view, pushing your bedroom door open quietly. she had assumed you were asleep by now and didn’t want to wake you by being too loud. your head perked up, the book long forgotten somewhere on the sheets as you took in the sight of your girlfriend. she looked burned out, a sad expression chiseled into her features. her hair was messy, cheeks flushed and pale-you assumed had been from crying. she hadn’t noticed you right away, only looking up when you called out her name.

“cait…” you breathed, unsure of what to say. she was clearly bothered, on the verge of tears. normally she’d come home and brush it off, saying that she just needed you and she’d be ok, but tonight was different. she looked inconsolable, standing there at the end of the bed.

“oh, hey baby,” she faked a smile, now dragging her feet to her side of the bed to get changed “you’re up”

“yea,” you offered a smile in return “you know i can’t sleep without you”

the small comment seemed to entice a genuine smile out of her this time, seeing how her lips turned upwards slightly as she pulled a clean tshirt over her head. she joined you in bed, sliding one leg underneath yours to feel the smallest bit of touch from you.

“hey i-uh,” you shook your head. this was a delicate matter that you didn’t know how to approach “i watched the game, cait”

“mhm,” she hummed, now pulling out her phone to mindlessly scroll through social media. possibly to distract her, but seeing the nasty comments about earlier tonight certainly wasn’t going to help.

you weren’t satisfied with her avoidance, deciding to prod further. you couldn’t watch her suffer like this any longer.

“baby,” you said softly, your tone somewhat stern to grab her attention. a gentle hand made its way to her wrist, pushing the phone from her grasp and into her lap “i think we should talk about the elephant in the room”

“i really don’t…” she muttered, her voice shaking “it’s fine, you know me”

“but caitlin, it’s not” you maneuvered around the bed, turning around and pulling your knees to your chest so you could fully face her. she laid her head back on the headboard, tilting her jaw away from you “you always say that, and i know you’re strong and can handle it. but tonight wasn’t ok and i know you know that”

you noticed the way her muscles tensed, preparing for a conversation she wished she would never have to have. you reached over to her, hand resting on her thigh as you rubbed soothingly. she squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed deeply to hold back tears. but it was no use, she was already hiccuping as sobs racked her body. you felt like your heart was being ripped from your chest. she hardly cried, and when she did, it was never like this.

“it’s whatever,” she couldn’t bring herself to look at you, beating herself up for even being upset in the first place “that’s just how it is, i’m the rookie and-”

“caitlin, stop” you begged, knowing where this was going. she was trying to brush it off once again. you disregarded her thigh, now moving even closer to her to place a hand on her cheek “that’s not just ‘how it is’, you’re allowed to be upset when you get quite literally shoved to the ground. and you’ve got too much on your plate right now, there’s a lot going on”

“i just-i don’t want…” the tears kept coming as she melted into your touch, the weight of her head leaning into your hand “i’m sorry”

“for what, baby?” you ran your thumb across her cheekbone “you have nothing to be sorry about”

“for all of this,” she exhaled, opening her eyes to actually look at you. her eyes slightly red, wet streaks running down her cheeks “for being upset like this, you shouldn’t have to sit here for this, i’m just being dramatic”

“you’re not being dramatic,” you butted in “got it? you shouldn’t have to feel sorry for being upset about something like this and i’ll have you know-i’m more than happy to be a shoulder to cry on, it’s what i’m here for. you can be respectful and reserved on the court and to the press, but you should never apologize for coming home and being vulnerable. especially with me”

a wave of silence washed over the room, caitlin’s exasperated sniffles being the only sound. she took a deep breath before continuing, gaze flickering down to her hands that were now fidgeting in her lap.

“i hate it so much,” she said, tears now only coming down harder “it was fine at first, but…but it’s just too much, i can’t”

“hey hey hey, it’s ok” you closed any distance between the two of you, wrapping your arms around her and bringing her in your chest. she instantly buried her head underneath your chin, allowing you to run your fingers through her hair and rub her back comfortingly “i know, baby it’s gonna be ok”

“i thought i could handle it, you know?” her voice was small, strained even. the collar of your shirt now damp, her lengthy fingers grabbing desperately at your sides for comfort “but it’s hard to process it all…like sure, being the rookie’s hard, but…but for some reason it’s just way more difficult than i imagined. and getting shoved around sucks, but it’s not even that. i don’t know how to explain it…im just so-so frustrated”

you listened attentively, giving your two cents when it was needed, humming in agreement as she ranted. you let her get it all out, hoping that this would help take some of the weight of her chest. her stubbornness to talk about things like this caused her a great deal of pain in the end, and you’d do anything in your power (even if it were sitting here like this all night) to ease her worries. you couldn’t describe how proud of her you were, grateful that she was trusting you enough to tell you how she truly felt.

“i think i’m just so overwhelmed with everything…with press, with all these expectations, with games…all of it has just been hammering down on me and it’s really fucked me up” she finished, taking a gasp of air after she poured her entire heart out to you.

“i get it, babe” you concurred “being new is hard and i can’t even imagine how much pressure you’ve been putting on yourself over this past year. and you know i don’t know much about the game and all that, but…but what i can say is, is that you aren’t alone. you have so many people who love you and support and are here for whenever you have days like this. neither me, your friends and teammates, your family, or even your fans expect you to walk out of the season like it was nothing. this is supposed to be hard and you’re supposed to have emotions like this. i love you more than anything and i need you to know that i’m here for you through all of this, alright?”

she sat up from being curled into your embrace for what felt like hours. her tears were now mostly dry, although her nose was still a light shade of pink from the congestion. another exasperated breath tumbled from her lips as she urgently grabbed both sides of your face, leaning into you. her lips met with yours in haste. she kissed you deeply, a small whimper emitting from her throat.

“i genuinely don’t know what i’d do without you,” she said, resting her forehead on yours, your hands cupping hers as they stayed firm to your face “you always know what to say, thank you for listening and being there for me”

you laughed, grinning as you looked into her gorgeous eyes “anytime, anywhere, no matter what. i’m so proud of you babe”

after a few more words were passed between the two of you, it was decided that you both were in dire need of some rest. caitlin was tired enough as it is, coming home and letting all of her emotions go had to have been even more exhausting. getting under the covers, caitlin moved down the bed so that she could rest her head just above your stomach, the sound of your heartbeat easing her stress.

“i love you so much” she yawned, fingers snaking underneath your shirt to run along your soft skin.

“i love you too, cait” you sighed, finally letting sleep take over your body.

[edenesth]

TWTHH Bonus: Honeymoon Avenue

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

A/N: This picks up directly from the final part of TWTHH, and takes place before the events of Wooyoung's spinoff.

Fic Masterlist | Star of the Show

You let out a small groan as you woke up from your slumber, feeling a familiar pair of arms tightening their hold around you. Your heart skipped a beat as you remembered where you were, blinking a few times to clear your vision and take in the surroundings you recognised as Seonghwa's private quarters.

Warmth rushed to your cheeks as you felt your husband's steady breath against the bare skin of your shoulder from behind. Shyness washed over you when you realised you were both still completely bare beneath the fabric of his comforter.

Memories of the intimacy from the previous night flooded your mind, and you buried your face in the pillow. It was as if you could still feel every touch, every kiss, and every moment of pleasure he had given you. So, this was how it felt to be loved so passionately. You hoped for nothing more than for him to be your first and last.

"Good morning, my love. I see you're up," his deep voice greeted, sounding even deeper than usual as he had only just woken up. He leaned in to whisper sensually into your ear before planting a soft kiss on your cheek, "Did you sleep well?"

Turning to face him, you nodded meekly, biting your lip, "I did, Hwa. Good morning to you too," you replied, feeling your breath hitch as his gaze focused solely on your lips.

He nodded in response, "Good, so did I." Without hesitation, he cupped your cheek and pressed his lips firmly against yours.

Your eyes fluttered shut the moment his familiar lips met yours. Kissing him back as if it were second nature, you wished for this moment to last forever as his larger frame enveloped yours, the skin-to-skin contact creating an intimacy that made you feel closer than ever. His ability to make you feel vulnerable yet safe at the same time still filled you with wonder. At that moment, his presence was all-encompassing; he was all you could see and think of.

I can't believe this man is all mine.

Seonghwa, equally content, felt his heart swell with affection for you. Caressing your cheek, he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, struggling to control his breathing when you bravely reached up to run your fingers through his hair, gently tugging at it. Despite witnessing your growing boldness since his return from war, your reciprocation of his affections still stirred his heart.

I'm yours and only yours, my love.

As you finally broke the kiss to catch your breath, he grinned and murmured, "Damn, Lady Park, who would've thought you'd be such an excellent kisser." Despite the blush creeping up your cheeks, you scoffed playfully. Moving to lay your head on his chest, you traced patterns on his skin with your finger, "What do you know, General Park? You speak as though you've kissed anyone other than me."

His pride swelled as he nodded in defeat to your response. Day by day, you were increasingly embodying the essence of the general's wife with your newfound demeanour. It wasn't that you needed to change for him; rather, it was remarkable to witness your transformation into a confident woman who knew her worth, having shed the old shell crafted by your so-called family. Reflecting on his time away at war, he began to see it as a blessing in disguise. Perhaps it was necessary for you to undergo further personal growth.

Nestling into the curve of his neck, you pulled the comforter up higher to conceal your front. A shiver raced down your spine as his hand traced gentle patterns on your bare back beneath the fabric, making you feel slightly bashful at being so exposed to him. He smirked, placing a kiss on your neck and teasing, "Are you getting shy now, my wife? There's no need to cover up or hide from me; I've already seen everything."

"You can be so annoying, you know that?" Rolling your eyes, you playfully pushed at his chest, but he easily resisted, his strength overpowering your feeble attempts. With feather-light kisses dancing across your skin, he tickled you, eliciting a giggle. Chuckling, he remarked, "Oh, come on. I miss the bold Lady Park who took charge last night."

Blushing, you let out an embarrassed squeal, "Oh, quit it! Stop reminding me!" He chuckled, hugging you close against him, his voice teasing as he whispered in your ear, "Remember how badly you wanted me to undo your hanbok?"

"Shut up, Park Seonghwa, or else���"

"Or else what, my dear Lady Park?"

Your husband's smug grin only fueled your frustration. Summoning a surge of determination, you swiftly flipped him onto the bed, looming over him as you straddled his hips, "I'll make you regret it," you declared, a playful glare in your eyes.

His heart skipped a beat as he looked up at you, struck by your beauty with your long hair framing your face like a curtain.

"Go ahead, my love. Make me regret."

Unbeknownst to the two, Eunsook and the group of maids assigned to bathe the couple all exchanged sheepish glances. The head maid cleared her throat, shooting a stern look at the young maids to silence them for fear of alerting you both, ordering in a soft voice, "We'll come back later. It seems the master and mistress are not quite prepared to begin their day just yet."

Jongho was taken aback to see the elderly woman return with the maids she had brought along, supposedly to get the couple ready for the day, "Huh? Are you all finished already? That was fast."

Dismissing the maids, Eunsook offered the assistant a knowing smile, "It appears the master and mistress are, um... still occupied at the moment. We'll come back later to check on them. For now, please ensure no one disturbs them."

His ears turned red as he registered what she meant by that, nodding quickly, "Y-yes, of course! I'll make sure no one passes through."

As half a day slipped away, you and Seonghwa finally emerged from his quarters, ready to receive your baths. The maids couldn't contain their giggles as they noticed the new marks adorning your skin, evidence of the passionate night—and morning—you and the general had shared. These marks were different from your old scars—they spoke of love and affection rather than pain. You pouted at their laughter, but they only laughed harder, "Enough, you meanies."

Eunsook softened as she washed your hair, "We're just happy for you, mistress. You are happy, aren't you?"

You bit your lip, nodding, "I am happy. The happiest woman on earth, if possible."

"Then that's all that matters to us."

Their hearts warmed at the beautiful smile that graced your face, wishing for nothing more than for you to remain content for as long as possible. You, the miracle who had brought so much light into the once sombre halls of the general's estate, truly deserved all the happiness in the world.

On the other side of the room, while assisting his master with the final touches of his outfit for the day, Jongho couldn't help but notice Seonghwa's dreamy expression and the persistent little smile on his handsome face.

"You seem to be in a good mood, sir," the assistant remarked as he focused on fastening the ribbons on the general's attire. Your husband nodded, "I am. Who would've thought married life isn't half as bad as we initially believed. In fact, it's pretty damn amazing. You should try it too, Jongho."

Blinking rapidly, the younger man raised a brow, "Try what? Marriage? Sir, I have no time for that. I'd make a terrible husband."

Seonghwa sighed, "See, that's your problem. You're always too dedicated, never making time for yourself. As much as I value your dedication, I want you to find happiness too."

"I am content, sir."

"Oh, come on, that's not what I meant—"

"Your outfit is ready, sir. You're all set."

Shaking his head in resignation, the general rubbed his temples, "Wooyoung was right about you. You need to get a life."

"He said what? The audacity—"

Heaving a deep sigh, Seonghwa rubbed his eyes after going over all the reports Mingi had prepared detailing every aspect of the recent war with Ruhon—the strategies employed and areas for improvement. The documents required his stamp of approval before they were shipped off to be stored in the palace archives. The military strategist had provided such detailed explanations that they were now giving him a headache.

"Gosh, I can't decide whether I love or hate Officer Song for these long ass reports. They're thorough to the point of being exhausting," he said with a shake of his head, "Is that everything, Jongho?"

The assistant nodded, gathering the completed scrolls to be delivered to San for a final vetting, "Yes, sir. That was the last of it. You're finished for the day. If that is all, I should probably hand these over to Royal Secretary Choi immediately."

"Oh, thank god. Go ahead, Jongho."

With a respectful bow, the younger man did not waste another second making a beeline for the exit, his mind focused on nothing else but his task. The general stared after him with a defeated huff, wishing for his aide to be a little less uptight and to live a little, "I should probably find him a wife."

Speaking of wives, he was reminded of his own. Suddenly, all concerns for Jongho's love life were pushed to the back of his mind and forgotten. Excitedly rising from his seat, his heart raced with anticipation as he set off to find you. He felt bad for leaving you alone for most of the day due to his work, but now he couldn't wait to have you all to himself.

Oh, it would feel like paradise.

He frowned, his steps faltering when he found you nowhere in the House of Lotus. Hastening his pace, he headed to the garden, where you often spent time tending to the flowers with Eunsook and the maids, only to find it empty. As a last resort, he even checked Yunho's quarters, torn between relief at finding the physician alone and frustration at not finding you.

Could you be upset with him for not spending time with you all day? No, that didn't seem like you at all. You were literally the most understanding person he knew. So, where could you be hiding? The wildest scenarios began to creep into his mind when he couldn't find you. What if his enemies had somehow infiltrated the estate? What if you were kidnapped? What if—

His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of you in the living hall, seated with Hongjoong and Wooyoung, seemingly engrossed in something. The two men watched you intently, particularly the investigator, who seemed more focused on your face than whatever you were doing. With a clearing of his throat, Seonghwa crossed his arms over his chest, "What are you three up to?"

Turning to glare at him, the dressmaker hushed him, "Keep it down, you doofus! She's trying to concentrate!"

Feeling offended, your husband narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to finally see what you had been up to; you were focused on learning embroidery. It dawned on him that Hongjoong must be teaching you a bit about his craft. He softened as he observed the deeply immersed look on your face, with your tongue poking out of the corner of your lips in concentration.

Good lord, she looks adorable.

In his attempt to move closer to you, he was met with yet another warning glare, causing annoyance to bubble within him. While he was grateful for the company Hongjoong and Wooyoung provided you in his absence, a part of him couldn't shake the irritation of seeing you accompanied by other men, even if they were his friends.

At that moment, he questioned why the guys were still around. The dressmaker, physician, and investigator had only been summoned while he was away at war to watch over you. Now that he was back home, he realised their presence was no longer necessary. It was then that he made a firm decision. From now on, he was determined to spend this time after your wedding alone with you.

The general wasted no time gathering his three friends that evening as soon as your embroidery lesson came to an end. With a polite yet firm tone, he explained his desire to have some alone time with you, dismissing them from the estate. Hongjoong and Yunho exchanged knowing glances, understanding the importance of the honeymoon period for passionate newlyweds like yourselves. Although Wooyoung was reluctant to go, he ultimately knew he had no choice but to comply with Seonghwa's request.

In a matter of days, the trio officially left the estate, returning to their own lives. This left you and your husband alone at last, ready to begin this new chapter of your lives together.

True to his expectations, the weeks that followed were pure bliss. He requested time off from work, and His Majesty was happy to oblige. He spent nearly every waking hour glued to you. By this point, everyone in the estate knew better than to interrupt when the master and mistress wanted privacy, ensuring the couple had all the intimate moments they needed. There were even jokes among the staff that a little Park might be on the way soon at this rate.

And perhaps their predictions weren't so far-fetched after all. It was on a fine day when you were spending another lovely afternoon in the House of Lotus practising embroidering, or at least tried to, with your husband seated behind you, his arms encircling your frame, that you began to show signs of sickness.

Leaving kisses all over your neck, he tickled you endlessly, causing you to giggle and push him away, "Hwa, please, I can't focus when you keep—" Before you could finish your sentence, a sudden wave of nausea hit you, and you let out a small gasp, pressing a hand to your chest to contain it.

Concerned, he immediately stopped and turned you around gently, "What is it, my love? Are you alright?"

"I-I'm fine... the feeling's gone, maybe it was something I ate," you reassured him when he suggested summoning the physician. Eventually, he relented and left you alone.

The second time occurred during dinner, with the kitchen having prepared one of your favourite dishes. Instead of savouring it as you normally would, you pressed a hand to your nose, "You okay, my wife?" you nodded and attempted to eat, only to end up retching from the smell of the dish.

Once again, you insisted you were fine and refused to see the doctor. He let you be, telling himself that if anything else were to happen, he wouldn't hesitate to call Yunho over. You convinced him that you must have caught the cold or something, seemingly fine after some rest.

The breaking point came during a leisurely stroll together in the garden. He tightened his hold on you when he noticed you swaying slightly. Smiling up at him, you reassured him, "I'm fine, Hwa. You worry too much." To ease his worries, you pressed your lips against his. For a moment, it worked, and he lost himself in the sweet kiss.

However, when you pulled back, seemingly out of breath, his heart lurched in his chest as your eyes rolled back, and he didn't waste a second catching your limp form in his arms.

"Jongho! Get Physician Jung here now!"

The sense of terror hit Seonghwa like a tidal wave as he found himself cradling you, unconscious, on his bed. Seeing you like this scared him more than any war ever could. Yunho rushed in shortly after, and the general reluctantly stepped aside to let the doctor examine you. Gently, he held your wrist, reading your pulse, after ensuring you were physically alright.

A few tense moments later, the taller man turned around with a smile, and your husband held his breath, "Congratulations, General Park. Your wife is with child."

Emotions surged within your husband as he released a sigh of relief, tears gathering in his eyes. The realisation dawned on him—of course, you were pregnant. How had he not considered that sooner? Slowly, the significance of it all began to sink in. The love of his life was carrying his child.

I'm going to be a father.

Y'all, I was sleep-deprived asf writing the second half part of this bonus part HAHA I hope it didn't seem rushed or anything.

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[whore-ibly-hot]

Yan!Soldier/General x Fem!Reader

'His little bride.'

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Smut, power dynamics, mentions of sa, p-in-v sex, mentions of war and military, implied violence, threats, possible dub-con as reader does not know the full story behind our yan's goals, female and male genitalia, female reader, pet names.

(AN: Not me coming back from the grave to drop a horny fic and this disappear again. Gonna go eat some pumpkin roll.)

Part 2 here

The sound of papers shuffling and a heavy sigh pierces the usual quiet of General Fritz's office, which is only occasionally broken by you dusting or rearranging one of the many books on the various shelves that lined the room. It's been 3 weeks since the invasion of your small town of Cyril, and the few civilian homes not destroyed in the invasion have been turned into functioning barracks and homesteads for the troops that now occupy your town. While not ideal, the army Fritz serves aligns with the beliefs of your villages people much more than the opposition, and while they are still invaders, many believe them to be the lesser of two evils. You remain as quiet as you can as Fritz attends to his work with a furrowed brow.

General Fritz, while known for his excellence in military strategics and his translation skills, seems to be struggling with the morning's crossword puzzle. A man of 42, he has served in his countries army since he was just 15, leaving his family's small farm and quickly rising through the ranks. He's a scarred man, with many gashes, stubble, and hair that when not in public is rather unkempt. Despite the things he's seen, a kindness remains in his bespectacled eyes. He gives up on the crossword puzzle, allowing the paper to fall to his desk with a 'plop!'. You glance over at him, and approach.

"Sir, is there anything you need, you seem a bit, well, stressed." You say, trying not to impose but express concern. When the troops arrived, many men were recruited, and many girls had to seek jobs. Some had to turn to unsavory means to get by, but you were lucky, you supposed. You were scouted out to serve as a guide and servant for the general, to both give information and serve his needs. While the thought of serving a strange man, one much older than you at that had frightened you, he was nothing like the other soldiers you had seen. He was polite, careful not to scare you off, provided you with good quarters, and never laid hands on you. All in all, the situation would have been perfect, had you not missed your family's bakery from which you were taken. For reasons you didn't fully understand, he never wanted you to travel far beyond his estate and into town.

He sighs. "I am fine, my dear girl. Just dealing with some disputes at the border of the county. Nothing you should concern yourself with." He says. He looks up at you, his glasses reflecting the light of his desk lamp. "Would you mind drawing me a bath, my dear? It has been... quite the day, and I think I need some time to relax." You quickly nod, and scurry off to the master bedroom, entering the attached bathroom and beginning to fill the tub with hot water. After some time, Fritz enters, looking as though he is fighting the urge to ask a question. "I... I hate to ask this of you, and say no if at any point in my asking you are uncomfortable or find me uncouth, but-" He hesitates. "I am very tired, and am currently dealing with some rather serious pain in my legs. Past wounds, you know. Would you be offended if I asked for your assistance in bathing?" You blush a little, but a part of you knows he won't try anything. You have noticed he seems to be limping a little more than usual, his mobility decreasing. Plus, you can tell he's only asking because he must, as the look of utter shame on his face suggests this is the last thing he wished to ask of you. "Of course, sir." His breath hitches, but he nods. As he begins to remove his more civilian garb, as he did not wear his uniform on this day, you try to avert your gaze. Still, you catch a glimpse of his pronounced muscles, littered with the occasional scar or blemish. You swallow heavily.

He slides down into the tub, his tensed muscles visibly relaxing as he lets out a groan. "Hmm..." He glances at you. "It's okay to look now, my dear. Sorry to have upset you." You shake your head, as if to assure him that you aren't bothered. He looks at you softly as you go to grab a sponge, a small part of him disappointed that you won't be using your bare hands to lather soap onto him. He shakes this thought off quickly. 'Shame on you!' He scolds himself 'Thinking such thoughts about your sweet servant girl. God, I'm acting like a recruit visiting his first whorehouse'. He is disappointed in himself, but tries to rationalize it by being innocent. Perhaps he just wanted to feel your hands on him, for comfort, for something different. One of the things he likes most about you is your hands. He noticed them when you first were sent to his mansion, much more timid then. You shook his hand, and his large, calloused and veiny hands, rough from years of labor and fighting, practically trembled at the feeling of your soft ones. As he grew to know you better, he would watch as you worked, your delicate hands dusting a vase or folding a sheet. He quickly decided any hard labor around his home be delegated to cadets and privates, when they would make the occasional visit, and sometimes as a disciplinary action. He wanted to keep your hands like you, soft and warm.

"Sir?" Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts. "Uh- Yes?" He stammers, readjusting his glasses (which oddly enough he always kept on for bath time.). "I was wondering... if I may take a bath sometime soon?" You ask timidly, causing him to frown. "Have you not been able to take one?" He asks. He doesn't remember ever giving such a command, and he would never deny your basic needs. "Well, one of the privates told me that the recruits shower schedule is twice a week, and that I should probably adhere to that at your house." You explain. Fritz grimaces. Of course some recruit would find it funny to torment the General's beloved servant. The soldiers where allowed two showers a week, but you were no soldier. You were a servant. His Servant. His.

"No, my dear, you may bathe whenever you see fit, that rule only applies to my soldiers of low rank. I imagine that young recruit may have been trying to have a laugh at your expense." He huffs. "Please, if you ever see him at the estate again, alert me to him, alright?" You nod, a little put off. You've never seen Fritz truly mad at one of his soldiers, he doesn't even get grumpy often, but now... he's scowling, as if that cadet had come right up to him, spit on his boots, and insulted his mother.

His eyes suddenly flash with a different emotion, as a thought crosses his mind. He bites his lips, trying to keep away the thought, but it's too tempting. "Perhaps..." His hand grips the porcelain edge of the tub. "Perhaps it would be easier for you to bathe me properly, if you were closer." He mumbles, avoiding eye contact. You tilt your head. "What do you mean, sir?" You ask naively. "Well, I just think, you could get a better position to clean me if you were to join me, i-in this bath, I mean." You blush wildly, and he begins to stammer, coming up with reasons it's a good idea. "For one, it would help you to apply the pain balm to my leg, and-" He's out of breath. "And taking a bath now, together, would ensure you are free later if I should need you." He risks a glance up at your face, feeling his turn red to match your own. You swallow. "I... I suppose that would be okay, sir." You mumble. You can't imagine he would hurt you, or try to take advantage of you. If that were the case, you imagine he would have had his way with you already. Besides, you can't deny how you failed to avoid looking at him when his disrobed before his bath. "Just, look away while I undress, please." You say, beginning to undo the corset of your servants attire. "Of course, anything to protect a ladies modesty." He says, quickly using his free hand to shield his eyes.

You slip into the bath water, and he looks up as he hears the water splash upon your entrance. You both remain silent, and you bathe him gently. He holds back sighs of pleasure, as you have forgone the sponge, and now use your bare hands as he had dreamed of moments ago. "Sir?" you break the silence. He lets out a "Hmm?" In response, eyes still closed in satisfaction. "May I ask, why do you never let me go into town? I wish to see my family, and the bakery." You ask. He seems to tense a little, the veins in his arm more prominent. "Because I simply don't have the time to venture there with you right now." He explains. "Yes, but I grew up there! I'm fine to go by my own." You say, a little annoyed he seems to think you're some helpless maid. He lets out a long exhale, before sitting up a little. Even like this in the bath, he towers over you. "It's not you I'm worried about, little one. I'm sure in town, before me and my men arrived, you could hold your own. But you couldn't against my soldiers, and-" He hesitates to tell you this, a part of him not wanting to scare you. "I don't trust half of them around a sweet thing like you." He sighs. You furrow your brows, your face upset. "You mean, like?" You can't bring yourself to say it. He nods. "I prevent it in every way I can, for all women. I do not allow it, but I cannot be everywhere, and the leaders above me do not permit me to dismiss a single man for a transgression like that. We need all the men you can get for the war." He makes a bold move, to cup your cheek. "But, rest assured, I won't let a single one of them lay hands on you. I just fear something could happen outside of my estate, that I could not control." You gulp at the notion, and nod. He sees the sorrow on your face, and strokes your cheek once more. "I will try to take a small holiday, a day or two perhaps, and I will take you to see them, alright?" He feels his heart speed up when he sees the light return to your eyes.

"Oh! Thank you, sir!" You look as if you could cry. He smiles and nods. "I, I must confess, I hope to go sooner rather than alter, I had wished to speak to your father." He says. "About what?" You feel a little fear knaw at you, and you gasp. "Wait, sir, no! He's much to old to fight, and-" Fritz cuts you off with both hands on your shoulder. "No, my dear, no. I'm not going to draft your poor father, do not worry. I would not want to do anything that would worry you so much." He coos, then avoids eye contact again. "I had wished to speak to him. The last time we spoke, we made a deal that you were to work for me as a servant girl, but..." You nod for him to continue. "I have found that house chores and labor do not suit you." You frown at his words. Had you not been doing a good enough job. "I'm sorry, sir, if I've not been performing well, please don't fire me. My family needs the money." He seems shocked once again, and laughs awkwardly. "God, I do seem to be bad at saying what I mean, don't I?" He shakes his head. "I mean that I think such things are below you. I... I should like to take you as my bride, if you and he should permit it." Your eyes widen. You hadn't expected that. What would he have you do as his bride? He senses your nervousness, and continues. "I assure you, it can have as much or as little intimacy as you wish. You needn't even act as a proper wife to me, I just-" He seems to be struggling to explain. "I just want you to be safe, and comfortable, a-as you have made me feel since you began to serve me." You feel your heart flutter at his words. "Since you arrived, you've been so sweet. Doting on me, caring for me, helping me with the daily crosswords." You laugh a little, and he smiles. "I want nothing more than to ensure that I get to enjoy that everday, and more importantly," a slightly darker tone ebbs its way into his voice. "I want to ensure that no other man does." You're a bit put off by the shift, but only nod.

"I should like to, sir." His head snaps up, his mouth hanging open slightly. "I'll admit, I always wanted to live in a fancy house like this, and the company isn't half bad either." You admit, shyly looking up at him. He is elated, his form almost trembling. "Do you mean it? Truly? You wish to accept my proposal?" He gasps. You nod. He lunges forward to hug you, causing the water to surge forward, but stops just short of you, remembering your nude form rests below the soapy water, as does his. "Ah, um." He coughs awkwardly. "I must ask, if we are to marry, and you do enjoy my company, would you be okay with the typically romantic things? I know people usually court first, but seeing as we've spent all this time together already." He says. You think. "Like kissing, and holding each other?" You ask. "Yes, like that sort of thing." He affirms. You nod. "I'm fine with trying it, but I need to tell you something." He nods for you to go on.

"I'm sure you know, we are a little reserved and conservative in our town. As a traveling man, and a general, I'm sure you have had your share of, um, intimate encounters. I was always told to wait, however, and I may not be what you are used to." You look at the water, trying to fight the insecurity gnawing at your heart. He only shakes his head quickly. "No, no, my darling girl! How could you ever be anything but perfect to me?" He asks, caressing your shoulder blade with his thumb. "I would be honored, if you would have me, to teach you about the more, intimate affairs of marriage and courting." He says. "I must admit, I'm afraid that I wouldn't be enough to satisfy you as a man, or a husband." He confesses. You gasp, and cup his face. "Why, sir?" You implore him to confide in you. "My dear, you are a mere twenty-three years of age, and I am forty-two. I'm practically twice your age. Besides being an old man, you had to help me with this blasted leg into the tub. I'm practically a cripple..." His insecurities begin to flow out as he confesses. You gently tuck your head against his shoulder. "No, sir. You are enough for me. You are a general, and a kind man. You have always treated me with respect. If I didn't think you were enough, I wouldn't have said yes to marrying you, would I?" He nods reluctantly. "No, you wouldn't have. You've always been a smart girl." He admits. "I'm willing to learn, as long as you show me, sir." You whisper.

He blushes, but takes this as a sign. "Well, seeing as we are due to wed, I don't see the harm in teaching you a few things now..." He says, pushing forward a little so your smaller frame is up against the slanted back wall of the tub. "Are you alright with this, you may tell me at any time if you want to stop." He says. You nod. "Words, my dear, please. I want to hear that you understand." He pushes. "I understand, sir." You say. He shakes his head as he plans a kiss on your forehead. "Call me Fritz, my little bride." He coos. "And since you are to be my bride, I hope you won't mind showing me what's been hiding under that uniform I gave you?" He asks. You blush, but slide a little further up the tub, parting your thighs just a touch, so he can see the bush of hair between them. "I haven't shaved, sorry." You say, a little embarrassed. He only chuckles, and shakes his head. "My dear, I've gone months without a shower, and shared a restroom and barrack with 27 other men. A little hair won't scare me off." He looks longingly. "Besides, it's what's under it I'm interested in." His hand suddenly comes to your inner thigh, the sensitive touch making you gasp. You've never been touched up there, much less by a man so strong. One of his large, calloused fingers comes to part your lips, exposing to your future husband your dripping, virgin holes. He lets out a wanton sigh at the sight.

"So beautiful, and untouched?" He asks. You gulp, and nod. "It is my honor to be the first and last man to pleasure your sweet little sex." He says. He traces that finger up and down you're folds, making sure you are properly teased, and getting a feel for you. "So wet, and not just from the bathwater, it seems." He whispers. "Is this how you planned to lose your purity? To a man twice your age, and an invading military officer, no less?" You blush in shame. "I didn't think of the specifics, just... just wanted you to have it, sir..." You whine. His grins grows, and he lets out a groan as he latches his lips to your neck. He licks and kisses up and down your neck, until he finds a spot that makes you let out a beautiful whine, causing him to nip at it. "Do you think your father would be less likely to accept my proposal if he noticed you covered in marks of love from me?" Fritz asks, and you only giggle a little. He finger wanders up to touch the pearl of your sex, making you gasp. "Oh, Fritz... what are you doing?" You ask. "Just finding your pearl, my dear. I want you to cum at least once before I take your virginity. I want to please you, my darling girl." He kisses your cheek, before he presses another finger against your pearl. He rubs in soft, slow circles, trying a few different angles before he finds one that pleases you, which he discerns from the moans you let out. "Fritz, mm-" You moan. You can feel a slow heat spreading, as something in you builds. "Please, a little faster?" You ask. He tuts, and looks at you. "Can't you be patient?" He teases. "No, wanna finish..." You mumble. "Want you in me, I-I wanna be your little wife." He almost chokes at your pleas, the words going straight to his cock. He didn't think you could arouse him even further, but you always did exceed his expectations. He quickens the pace, and you can feel your orgasm approaching. "Yes, Fritz, Yes. Please, make me cum." You beg. "You want to cum, cum so I'll put my manhood into you? Want me to make you a proper little wife for me?" He edges you, and as you nod and agree profusely, you feel that wave wash over you. Your pussy convulses around nothing, as you let out a whine that sounds like music to him. This beats his visits to the royal opera a hundred times over.

As you pant, coming down from your high, Fritz holds you in your place, rising a little out of the water himself. You blush, as his erect manhood becomes visible. He's well groomed, and while the tip isn't pronounced, there's a curve to it that makes your mouth water. "Well, do I seem up to your standards, my love?" He asks. "More than that, Fritz. You're so pretty..." While it seems like nothing to you, these words strike him hard. He's never been called pretty before, and hearing it from your soft lips wipes the lewd grin off his face, replacing it with momentary shock. He pulls himself to you, his chapped lips colliding with your soft ones. You squeak, but melt into it. He tastes like earl grey tea and the occasional cigars he would smoke, but only when stressed. You both gasp as he pulls away, needing air. He places many small kisses on your face, making you smile as you look up at him. "My sweet, sweet girl. Always so kind to this old man..." He murmurs. As he does, he rolls his hips forward a little, allowing the underside of his manhood to rub against the length of your sex. "I'm going to be gentle, alright? It might hurt a little, especially with me being quite a bit larger than you. But I promise to take it at your pace, alright?" He asks, his hands resting gently on your waist. You nod, and feel his hard tip prod a few times at your aroused pearl, before moving down to line up with your entrance. He warns you a little, before gently pushing the tip in. You wince, and he continues to soothingly rub your waist with his thumbs. He moves himself out, then rolls his hips back in, a little deeper with each thrust. It hurts, but the relaxing warm water helps, and it's not as bad as you thought it would be. "Feels okay, darling?" He asks. "Yes..." You respond, focusing on the feeling of him inside you. As he continues, the pain subsides, and he begins to quicken the pace when he tells you this.

"God, Fritz. You're big, s-so big..." You moan, his hips causing your ass to bounce back and forth off the wall of the tub. "I' feel 'mazing." He huffs. "So tight, and warm. My girl, letting me take you like this, getting you ready for our wedding night." He feels himself harden even further at the thought. "Y'know, I think it'd be a shame not to share how sweet you are, how caring." He says, his hips now pounding at your cervix. "W-what?" You ask. He had made it clear earlier he didn't want to share, so despite the pleasure you are confused. "Saying you'll make a good wife, but I think you'd make a better mother." He moans. You gasp at the thought. "All swollen with my baby, my child. Letting me care for you for once, instead of helping me walk cause of my leg, I'd get to help you around..." He thrusts grow more erratic at the idea, and you feel yourself about to climax once more. "Let me, my love, please. Let me fill you with my seed, my children. Let your fiance make you a mommy..." He begs. Just as you shout an agreement, you feel yourself convulse around him, causing his breath to hitch. He groans. "God, gonna finish to now, going to give you my babies..." He shouts. You feel a warmth flood you, as he sprays hot, white ropes of cum into your womb. You both pant, taking quite some time to recover.

Being the strong man he is, he bounces back quite quickly, while you are so tired you can barely move. "I'm sorry, my love." He coos. "Perhaps I was a bit rough for your first time..." You shake your head. "Mmm, no. I-I felt good, just, I'm just tired." You yawn. He chuckles. He cleans himself, and you, before draining the tub. He grabs both of your clothes as he carries you past your servants quarters, and into his room. Helping you to redress in your undergarments, he lays you down. You sigh as your body melts into the luxury sheets. He sits beside you, gently stroking your face. "Get some rest, my little bride." He whispers, before departing back to his office. He heads to the front door, and picks up a letter dropped off from the courier. Inside the envelope is your father's response, from a proposal sent several days ago by Fritz. Once again, though this was his third and final time asking, your father once again denied your hand in marriage to Fritz, saying he would never marry his precious girl to an invader. Fritz grimaces, as he had not wanted it to come to this. Sighing, he writes two more letters in response. One to your father, stating his intent to take your hand either way, and another to his second-in-command, ordering a man to be jailed for treason and defying military orders. The first letter reads as follows.

Dear sir,

As you are well aware, this is the third time you have rejected to allow me to take your daughters hand in marriage. While i understand your hesitation, I do what I do only to provide her a safe, comfortable life, which I do not believe you could have provided her, in your town which my men overtook in merely three hours. I could not imagine if a man worse than I had set his sights on her instead. Rest assured, that in light of your soon-to-be imprisonment, I will care for her. She has developed a reciprocation of my feelings, and despite your refusal to wed her to me, as I write this she lays in my bed, beginning to bear my child. I wish that you had been understanding, and done what was best for your daughter. Now, she will marry happily, but have no father, and the blame lies only on you.

-Fritz, General of the Northern King's forces.

[thebluester2020]

[ZZZ] Kinktober Day 2: "Knotting"

Summary: After walking in on your boss and seeing that he was struggling with his rut, it's only right for you to let him knot you after walking in on him!

Warning(s): Gentle sex (Kinda? It's mostly focused on the reader being fucked while Lycaon has a knot ngl), Dirty talk, Lycaon being a tease,

Side Note(s): I should have mentioned this in my original post for Kinktober but I didn't so I'll mention it now—

These fics will unfortunately not be as long as the ones I typically write 😔. Here and there I may write something longer if I'm super duper inspired, or if I just find myself wanting more lore than anything but it'll be pretty rare since I'm pumping out a fic per day for this entire month 💪 ✨

Anywho— I hope y'all enjoy more of me ranting about how much I love the wolf guy.

"The least you can do...is help me..."

That was the last sentence you remembered Von Lycaon saying to you before you were snapped back to the present via a particular harsh thrust, a moan tearing from your throat as you clawed at the wooden floor underneath you. To own up to your mistakes, you should have taken a hint that there was a chance that Lycaon was doing something...private via the rapid panting and groaning you heard from behind his door when you returned fresh from running some errands.

Now you found yourself stripped of your clothes and lying on the hard wooden floor, Lycaon's torturing you with his slow yet fierce thrusts as he rocked you steadily on his knot, your head locked into a headlock as a trail of drool escaped the corner of your mouth and trailed down onto the wolf thiren's forearm.

"L-Lycaon—fuuckkk..." You dumbly moaned, not knowing if you pleading for him to speed up or to let you rest for a moment.

He took it as a sign that you wanted him to speed up, the sudden increase in pace as he fucked into you with more vigor making your moans increase in volume and frequency. Lycaon smirked at the lewd sound of your pussy struggling to take his fat knot, and here he thought you were actually telling the truth when you told him so eagerly that you could "help him"!

"Such a shame Miss Y/N, where did all your confidence when you barged into my quarters go?" He said into your ear, his teasing tone making you clench as you unconsciously scratched at his forearm, struggling desperately to keep your head above the waters and not completely drown in the addictive feeling of his cock dragging against your walls. "Surely you can last a few more rounds?" He panted.

"You owe it to me for such a blatant display of rudeness earlier."

His ear twitched at you whining out his name before he stilled with a guttural hiss at your umpteenth orgasm. The sheer force of your orgasm pushing out some of his cum that he had so dutifully stuffed into you earlier, the idea of his precious seed being wasted...especially after you had begged him to fill you up and use you as he pleased in order to ease his rut. Although you did well to reduce his rut, the feeling of your tight walls wrapping so snugly against his cock eased the burning feeling in his chest that he struggled to get rid of earlier.

Still, the idea of you pregnant and round with his pups.

He couldn't get it out of his mind, the mental image becoming clearer and clearer in his mind as his thrusts picked back up to the brutal pace he set earlier. "L-Lycaon?!" You gasped. "W-What are you—Ah!—I thought you were—"

The wolf thiren clicked his tongue. "I won't be done with you for a while Miss Y/N." He said. "Until my knot goes down, I'll be making use of your services until then."

It seemed you were in for a long rest of the day ahead of you.

[lemon-russ]

Your lion fic was beautiful. May I request more? Anything will do really. But here are my requests.

Lion angrily jerking it after experiencing one (1) emotion

Lion aggressively cuddling you. You're not hurt or sick or have lost feeling in your lower body temporarily, he just wants to be close to you. And be an ass about it.

You wear his legion colours/symbols and he gets really horny.

40k Lion reminiscing about an old lover from 30k (using that term loosely, they were probably just fuck buddies) and maybe they meet again in 40k. Let's say a perpetual reader.

Anyway these are just my brainworms. Feel free to ignore.

And yes, I am aware I have a thing for stoic men losing it and being absolute freaks. I am currently in search for a good therapist.

Sorry for the delay, but I feel adjacent to a human today, so I finally finished this! Also the way you presented it made me snort laugh haha, the kind message into "angrily jerking it" lmfao

Anyway here's The Lion straight jorkin' it (I like all your suggestions and might come back to the colors one especially!)

Tags: @sleepyfan-blog @undeaddream @scriberye @lisikk

Thanks @squishyowl for the dividers!

Lion El'Jonson X Fem!Reader

CW: Lion straight up jorkin' it. That's all.

Stupid woman, Lion thought, slamming his chamber doors closed.

He started angrily undoing the belt of his tunic as he marched to his bed, fingers frustratingly fumbling the latch in a hurry.

Stupid, infuriating woman.

Guilliman had sent a representative to give The Lion updates about some missions the Ultramarines had been on, just the average doldrum of war talk. But the representative he sent was his little Ambassador pet.

“My Lord?” You had said, looking up at him between explaining supply lines, “You seem very tired. Did you not rest well?”

He’d been shocked by the simple question. He had indeed been without a proper rest for a bit too long. But, no one ever asked such things about him. He was a god to most baselines, infallible and untiring, beyond mortal needs. But you spent a majority of your time around his brother, so of course you could read him better than a random serf could. And you’d been… concerned. For him.

“Wh- I…” he had stuttered, caught off guard. That annoyed him. Being flustered by a tiny baseline woman’s concern for him annoyed him. The pang of unnameable emotion that shot through him annoyed him. The sudden pulse of pressure below his stomach, especially annoyed him.

“Don’t be daft woman-” he had spat back. You’d just smiled softly at the verbal attack, soft eyes scanning his face, studying the circles forming under his eyes. Then for some warp damned reason, you had gone and made him a cup of recaff. You placed it in front of the flabbergasted Primarch and returned to explaining your papers like nothing had passed.

Stupid woman.

The minute you’d given him a quick aquillan salute and been on your way out the door, He had turned on his heel and stormed off to his quarters, leaving confused serfs in his wake as he pushed them aside, some even falling to the floor. “No one disturb me.” He had growled, stalling their pursuit of him.

He finally pulled his pants down, holding his tunic aside as he knelt on his bed. That feeling that you had invoked in him had shot right between his legs. The whole rest of the meeting, he was struggling to focus on anything but how hard you had made him.

He grasped himself, groaning at the friction at last as he stroked. Your image assaulted his mind. You leaning over the table just enough that he could see down the far too loose tunic dress you wore. He growled remembering that glimpse of your breasts, infuriatingly framed in ultramarine blue. It should have been HIS colors.

He grasped himself tighter as he assailed his aching cock, falling back on his pillows. It should be Dark Angels green you were in. No- it should be nothing at all. You should be naked in his bed. You should be panting in his lap-

His hips bucked himself fruitlessly into his hand at the image. Your sweet face, flush and gasping as you rode him. Did you look at Guilliman the way you’d looked up at him? Did you fetch him drinks when you noticed he was worn? The thought enraged The Lion. How dare you go back to the Macragge’s Honour, back to anywhere but his bed.

He gripped the sheets, yanking at his tunic as he frustratedly picked up speed, ignoring the slight soreness from his calloused palm attacking his cock without anything to help the friction. It wouldn’t be an issue if it was you on him instead. He bet you were plenty slick, and tight-

He felt his balls start to tighten, drawing in a hissing, ragged gasp through grit teeth. His bed creaked with the cadence of his hips jerking up into his fist. You should be here. You should be wrapped around him, holding on for your life as he used you like a cocksleeve- he imagined your small hands splayed over his stomach for balance, trying desperately to hold yourself down against his bouncing.

He fisted his cock faster, frustrated by the sub-par sensation of his own rough skin, barely slicked with his pre-cum as he drove himself forcefully toward an orgasm. He was frustrated he’d immediately given in to such base instincts. He was Frustrated you could drive him to this with one little question, with one sweet look.

His mind flooded with the image of you giving him that little smile, eyes soft and concerned in defiance of his sharp words-

He let out a snarl as the heat in him snapped, shooting his spend over his stomach in jerking pulses. A few more hard pumps on his cock drained him, shuddering and mind blank, before he collapsed back on the bed, legs shaking and ragged gasps wracking his lungs.

He lay panting, covered in his own seed, twitching his hips up in the aftershocks. This was your fault. You stupid, damnable woman.

He groaned and let his arm fall to his side as the sensations eased from his need-drunk mind.

He had a very stern demand to draft. If his brother wanted him to keep playing nice- which he had been, he’d been very cooperative he thought, he earned some credit- If Guilliman wanted Lion to keep his word about their plans and supplies and defenses-

Then the cost was merely one insignificant little diplomat woman.

[cabotwife]

Hi!! Loving all the Johanna fics you’ve been putting out! I was wondering if you could write Johanna mason x fem!reader where the reader gets caught in the jabberjay section of the quarter quell with Katniss and Finnick and hears Johanna’s cries. Afterwards they meet Johanna on the beach after the blood rain and reader is super distressed and thinks what she’s seeing is a trick.

(I know they are already with Johanna at this point but just for the sake of this they meet Johanna, Beetee, and Wires when they come out of the blood rain after the jabberjays.)

Thanks :)

hey! sorry this took so long, i have been struggling with writers block so bad recently 💔

This Love

Johanna Mason x Fem!Odair!Reader

warnings: very poorly written, rushed, probably ooc Katniss and Johanna, not proofread

word count: 1475

a/n: sorry if it's poorly written and soo late, i had an idea but no clue how to put it into words:(

a/n pt2: i tried posting this last night but i fell asleep, thinking i posted it and didn't realize it wasn't posted until i went to start another request..

--

your breathing is heavy as you trek across the sand of the beach. the sun is beating down on you and you’re covered in scrapes and cuts from the mutt attack.

while your brother and the District 12 tributes are talking to each other some distance behind you, you find yourself lost in your thoughts as you wander along the beach.

suddenly, a scream pierces through the air, causing you to jump and spin around to see if the others had heard it. however, they appear to be oblivious to the sound and continue their discussion.

you take in a shaky breath, but then the scream echoes again, and this time you recognize the voice.

"Johanna?" you gasp, staring wide-eyed into the dense jungle. "JOHANNA?!" you scream as you run towards it, pushing aside hanging leaves and jumping over tree roots.

"Y/N!" you hear Finnick call after you, but you can't bring yourself to care, not when your Johanna needs you.

you run with all your might until you reach a small clearing. the cries for help seem to echo around you, making your head spin. "Johanna?!" you call out, your voice loud, strained, and filled with raw emotions. "where are you?"

the cries for help blend into agonizing screams that send shivers down your spine.

tears begin to well up in your eyes as you frantically spin around, desperately searching for the source of the sound. "Johanna! Johanna, please!" you cry out. "where are you?!"

suddenly, a black bird swoops down near your head, calling out, "help! y/n!" your head jerks towards it, eyes widening as you notice the swarm of birds circling above you.

"no," you whisper, watching in horror as the bird continues to dive all around you.

in a panic, you turn on your heel and sprint back in the direction you came from. through the foliage of the trees, you can see the others, including Finnick, waving their arms and shouting, but their words are seemingly drowned out by the chaos.

you race towards your brother, the birds relentlessly chasing and circling you. all you can hear is Finnick and Johanna's desperate cries for help. tears stream down your cheeks as you finally reach your brother, only to be separated by an invisible wall.

"Finnick!" you cry out, pounding your fists against the barrier. "Finnick, help!" your voice trembles with pain, and you struggle to articulate your words as the birds continue their relentless assault.

overwhelmed, you sink to the ground, curling your hands around your head as you hide your face and cover your ears. leaning against the force field, you sob uncontrollably, feeling the weight of the situation.

after what feels like an eternity, the birds eventually fly away, and the force field dissipates.

your group rushes towards you, and Finnick immediately pulls you into a tight embrace, cupping your cheeks as you gaze at him with a distant expression.

“it’s okay, y/n/n, it was just jabberjays.” he murmurs, gently brushing your bangs away from your sweaty forehead.

you stay silent as he fusses over you, with Katniss crouched beside you, her hand soothingly placed on your back, and Peeta standing next to her.

"i'm okay," you eventually mutter, pushing away from the hands on you and standing up.

Finnick frowns at you, but before he can say anything, Katniss speaks up, "we should go back to the beach, where it's safe," she says softly, speaking cautiously, as if you were a child.

you say nothing as you make your way back to the sand of the beach, feeling relieved to be out of the jungle once again.

you settle yourself on the sand near the water's edge, with Katniss sitting beside you and Peeta staying close to her side. Finnick stands behind all of you, taking in his surroundings.

suddenly, you hear your brother suck in a sharp breath, "Johanna!" he shouts before sprinting down the beach. you flinch at the sound of the name, your head snapping up as you watch your brother run.

"Finnick!" you hear a voice calls back, a voice whose screams have been forcefully etched into your mind for the past hour.

Katniss turns to look at you as she stands, extending her hand towards you, "you coming?" she asks, her voice low and comforting.

you eventually nod, gripping her hand and allowing her to help you up.

the three of you follow behind Finnick, making your way towards the other three. as you look at Johanna, you notice how she is covered in blood, and suddenly nothing else matters. your thoughts consume you once again, 'Johanna needed you and you couldn't help her. she's hurt and it's all your fault.' your mind races as you continue to stare at the blood soaked brunette.

Katniss notices your distant look, and she takes your hand in hers, dipping her head and turning to meet your gaze as you still fixate on the other girl.

Johanna looks over Finnick's shoulder, locking eyes with you. her brows furrow in confusion at the look on your face. "y/n?" she calls out, her voice filled with concern, while she starts making her way toward you. your eyes widen in response to hearing your name escape her lips, and you find yourself staring back at her like a deer in headlights.

Finnick places his hand on her shoulder, causing her head to snap towards him. "what's going on with her?" she inquires, pulling away from the bronze-haired boy.

"there was an incident," he explains, "with jabberjays. she, uh.. she got lured into the jungle by jabberjays that were mimicking you."

"me?" Johanna breathes, glancing over at you. her expression changes as she watches Katniss squeeze your hand, speaking to you gently.

"yeah, she hasn't said much since we got her out.. she was in there for a while," Finnick mumbles. "you should talk to her, let her know that you're okay and stuff."

"looks like she has Katniss for that," Johanna grumbles, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms.

Finnick raises an eyebrow at the brunette. “go talk to her, i’ll take Katniss and the others down the beach further.”

Johanna lets out a deep sigh, nodding in agreement. Finnick pats her on the shoulder before motioning for Katniss and Peeta to join them. Peeta rushes over to your brother like an eager puppy being called by his master. meanwhile, Katniss slowly makes her way over, providing you with a few more words of reassurance before finally joining the group.

"hey," Johanna says as she approaches you. you continue to stare at her in silence, which seems to make her slightly uncomfortable. "hey," she gently cups your jaw, redirecting your attention from her bloodied shoulders to her eyes. "talk to me," she mumbles as she holds eye contact with you.

"i'm sorry i couldn't help you," you finally manage to say after a period of silence. tears well up in your eyes again as your lower lip quivers. "i'm sorry," you repeat.

Johanna's eyebrows furrow with confusion. "hey, what? don't be sorry. why’re you apologizing?"

"i couldn't help you," you mumble. "i- i couldn't find you. it was so loud. i'm sorry." tears stream down your cheeks as you speak, your voice coming out raspy but soft.

"y/n, listen to me, you did absolutely nothing wrong," she assures you, her voice filled with sincerity. "what you heard wasn't me, it was just a trick. it wasn't me." her other hand gently comes up to cup your other cheek, holding your face tenderly as she gazes into your eyes.

you swallow hard, holding unwavering eye contact with her. "i-" your words are abruptly cut off as Johanna ducks down and presses her soft lips against yours.

"i’m safe," she whispers, her lips barely grazing against yours. "i’m safe." she reaffirms her words with another kiss, deepening the connection between the both of you.

you instinctively wrap your arms around her neck, your fingers intertwining in her hair as you return the kiss.

you reluctantly break the kiss upon hearing your brother's wolf whistle. Johanna rolls her eyes playfully at him, turning in your embrace to give him an exaggerated middle finger. "fuck you, fish boy!" she exclaims, a grin on her face.

your brother dramatically gasps, his hand clutching his chest in mock offense. "wow! you call me fish boy after sucking face with my sister?"

your cheeks flush with color at his choice of words, but Johanna simply scoffs at him before turning her attention back to you, that same teasing grin still present on her face. she firmly grasps your waist before pulling you into another kiss, more passionate than the last. your fingers gently thread through her hair as you savor the moment.

[light-yaers]

Take Care: Chapter Thirteen

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes.

A/N: so... yeah it's been 7 months. whatever! i'm back bitches!

Word Count: 7k+

Chapter Thirteen:

You gasped when you woke, folding yourself upright in shock. You only had a few seconds to stabilise yourself before the headache from hell hit you like a drill to your skull. Groaning, you brought your hand to your forehead, and you could have sworn you could feel your brain throbbing. 

“Morning,” Roy said lowly, and you almost broke your fucking back as you turned to look at him abruptly. 

“Fuuucking hell,” you whispered. That was all your voice could handle at that moment.

As your heart thumped incessantly in your chest, your eyes ate him up. Roy sat at the dining room table, legs crossed and donned in a pair of tartan pyjama trousers. A loose fitted white cotton t-shirt covered his top half, and his hair was just slightly ruffled. He brought a coffee mug to his mouth, and smiled to himself in amusement as he took a sip. Nothing of what you’d previously imagined Roy would look like in the morning was what met you there– it was so much better. He looked softer, and calmer. 

Regretfully, you had to look away. It wasn’t just from the way your gut coiled, but from the stabbing pain that had begun in the middle of your forehead. “What the fuck happened last night?”

“Well, as the guys say it.”Roy stood slowly, and made his way to the sofa. Dropping himself next to you, he took another sip of coffee. “You got Danied.” 

Your groans could have been heard all the way over at Nelson Road. The guys would already be there, prepping for a game later that afternoon. You wondered how badly some of them were suffering, or if their bodies were already used to dealing with Dani related hangovers. Yours, however, was not. 

“I guess I went a bit overboard,” you croaked. “We were just having fun, and being festive, and possibly decking the halls far too much for my body to handle.”

Roy smiled. “Yeah, well it’s lucky you didn’t deck the halls with your fucking vomit last night, either.”

You scrunched yourself into a ball immediately, armadillo style, and grumpily shrugged the blanket you’d slept with over your head. You didn’t want the world to see you today, didn’t want to be exposed to the stares of your friends or neighbours, yet– here you were. In front of the one man you’d promised not to see over this holiday period. Drunk you hadn’t read the fucking rule book. 

Gently, Roy placed a hand on your ankle. Your entire body buzzed, as a shudder ripped its way up your body from his point of touch. “It’s fucking Christmas. Don’t worry about it.”

You swallowed away the urge to be sick, but not from your hangover. Roy squeezed your ankle ever so slightly. “Where’s Phoebe?” you asked, trying desperately to change the subject and revert his attention onto something– someone– else, other than groggy you. 

“My sister came by about an hour ago to pick her up.”

“And I didn’t hear them?” you exclaimed, muffled beneath the blanket. 

Roy shrugged. “You were out cold.”

“Fuck my life,” you muttered, before you realised something. Quickly, you revealed yourself from beneath the blanket and smacked your hands into your lap. Your hair was everywhere, an utter mess, but nevertheless you looked towards Roy. “What time is it?”

Roy glanced at his phone. “Just after midday–”

“Fuck!” You practically jumped out of your skin. Scrambling up from your section of the sofa, and struggling to fling the blanket off yourself, you finally stood up. “The pre-game is at quarter past two, which means I’m already fucking late!”

Roy watched as you panicked, but nothing could be done to slap away the affectionate smile he held on his face. You busied yourself by pacing the living room and checking your various messages, a few of which were obviously from the guys themselves, and you cringed incessantly when you read them. When you started counting on your fingers, Roy hoisted himself from the sofa with a subtle growl. 

“Will you calm the fuck down? You’re giving me hives.”

You shot a death stare at him. “I said I’d grab coffee with Rebecca at one o’clock, which I’m now probably not going to make. And I still need to shower, and get the stench of tequila off my body, and–” You stopped talking at the thought of alcohol, and had to place a hand on your chest to stop yourself from gagging. 

Roy abruptly reached out and grabbed your bicep softly. “Stop fucking thinking about tequila.”

You swallowed painfully. “Sorry.”

Roy’s fingers squeezed you softly, and the sensation alone was enough to ground you. You inhaled deeply, and got the thought of booze and lateness and stress out of your mind as much as you could. All the while, as your eyes were stamped shut and your chest shuddered through struggling breaths, Roy was there. He held onto you thoughtfully and with patience; two qualities that Roy definitely wasn’t known for. 

When you opened your eyes, you found Roy’s steady gaze on yours already. “Sorry,” you repeated. “I’m good, I’m fine.”

“And I’m Shania fucking Twain,” he said sarcastically. You let out an amused huff, and his face softened. 

The mere seconds you had looking at each other in this way was enough to make your heart hurt beneath your ribs. Just a little bit, just a tinge, but it only acted as a reminder of how this– you and him– wouldn’t ever work. You saw it in Roy’s gaze, too, and when he swallowed the words that rested on his tongue, just waiting to be said out loud. Maybe they never would. 

Roy gently removed his grip from you, but the softness didn’t leave his face for a second. “Can I get you a coffee?” 

You relaxed instantly, hardly registering your problems in that moment after his offer. You didn’t care about time anymore, or the fact that you had plans; you only cared about him. All you could do was nod, hit with the sudden urge that you didn’t want to leave so suddenly. It was you that had instigated this Christmas meeting, you who had shown up at his house– drunk– with no other intentions, other than wishing him a Merry Christmas. The word ‘wholesome’ had never come to mind alongside your actions, but you were struggling with what to describe the situation now. 

It was wholesome, and it was all you. 

Until it wasn’t wholesome anymore, and certainly not all you. 

“Last night,” you started, swallowing back some nerves that fluttered up from the pit of your stomach. “Before I fell asleep.” Roy took a small step back. “What were you saying?” 

You looked at him as innocently as possible, despite the increase in your pulse. Roy’s demeanour changed instantly, as he quickly raced his eyes up and down your hungover form. Quickly, he swivelled around and headed for the dining table. He picked up a small package that lay in the centre, next to other Christmas cards and scraps of old wrapping paper, before he turned back to you. 

Roy stopped a metre from where you stood and stuck his hand out slowly. “I got you a present,” he said softly. 

As you took in the image of him, your make-up stained eyes almost started to well. You could feel the tears ready to form, and begged to whatever fucking god was out there not to burst into tears. You sucked in a breath, but scoffed it back out as an inappropriate giggle erupted from within you. 

“Jeez, Roy,” you said, smiling. You stepped closer before taking the gift from him, and shot him a golden stare when you held it in your hands. 

Roy smiled. “Sorry it’s late.”

You scoffed again. “That was definitely my fault for falling asleep with a beer in my hand.”

Roy chuckled lightly, and innately you knew you’d never forget the sound of it. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” you whispered back. 

Tears welled in your eyes before you could stop them. Roy caught on immediately and stepped forward quickly, going to comfort you in whatever capacity he could– but you stopped him. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” you said, waving him off as if everything was fine. “I’m just hungover, and tired, and late– fucking late!” You remembered the entire situation so fast that you almost dropped your gift. “Coffee will have to wait. I need to run home.”

“I can drive you.” Roy offered, almost desperately, but you waved him off again. 

“No point. You have a studio to get to, and I have a very tall blonde woman to try and meet before the Richmond game.” Quickly, you shuffled out of the living room and towards the front door. You clutched your belongings in your arms– your jumper, your scarf, your jacket, Roy’s gift– and attempted to slip on your boots as fast as humanly possible. 

Roy appeared at the end of the hallway. He no longer looked soft, as he started stomping closer to you. “I’m not due at the studio till two o’clock. Let me drive you to Nelson Road, or fucking something–”

“Really, you don’t need to.” You tied your laces messily, knowing that you only had to survive getting out of his door and off his drive before you could finally burst. 

This was just it, wasn’t it? This– him and you, the gift giving, the coffee, the softness– was all too fucking much. You regretted going to see him last night, you regretted infringing on his Christmas like this, and now he desperately wanted you to stay. 

It was all a recipe for disaster. 

You whipped yourself up to standing and dared to look at him. “Besides, I’ve already overstayed my impromptu visit.”

Roy furrowed his brows angrily, getting worked up. “You haven’t been here in a fucking month, fell asleep after two bloody minutes, and you think you’ve overstayed your welcome? Just– fucking stop, and I can drive you, and we can–”

“Roy.” 

With the tone shift of your voice, Roy stopped. His chest rose and fell quickly; an attempt to calm down the erratic beat of his heart. You looked into his eyes deeply, and everything translated as clear as if you’d spoken the words. 

We’re not supposed to do this, remember? This is what you wanted, and I can’t be here anymore without it being painful. Let me go. 

He stepped back a little and un-balled his fists. He nodded, and bit down on his tongue to stop himself from choking, or saying something he’d definitely regret. 

You nodded back. It was all that needed to be exchanged for you both to understand. Grabbing the handle, you opened his hulking, oak front door and stepped into the cold Richmond air. Before you closed it behind you, you turned back to him.

Roy looked defeated, tired, slumped. His arms dangled by his sides without strength, and the look on his face had you rethinking your entire decision to leave; love-sick, or swarmed with thoughts of what could have been, if only he hadn’t put a boundary on how far this thing between you could go. His jaw was the only thing that stayed rigid, stuck, like he was clenching every single muscle to stop himself from spilling words onto his porch. 

You smiled sadly. “I’ll see you on the telly.” The front door slammed shut. 

You grappled for air as you ran up the steps to the Dogtrack. Coffee with Rebecca had been postponed, and you’d savoured the time you had to recover and get ready before you had to shoot out the door again. You navigated the inside of the stadium like the back of your hand, until you emerged outside into Richmond’s box. Rebecca sat in her usual spot. You dropped yourself down next to her and sighed deeply, finally letting yourself relax after an eventful early afternoon. 

“Hm.” Rebecca huffed in amusement. “Hello, darling,” she said with an air of knowing. 

“Don’t.” You dropped your bag to the floor and crossed your legs sturdily, wrapping yourself up comfortably and warmly within your puffer coat. 

“Good Christmas?” she still asked. You refrained from rolling your eyes, but knew you owed her an explanation.

“I got Danied.” 

“Oh, how those boys love you,” she said, laughing to herself. “They were quite jovial in the locker room this morning. There was something circulating about you performing Elton John’s Benny and the Jets after dinner.”

You shut your eyes and tried not to cringe at yourself. “Was that all?” you said, opening your eyes slowly. 

Rebecca shrugged. “Other than the abrupt departure and denial of needing a lift home while pissed beyond belief– no.” She smiled at you so widely that you couldn’t help but copy her. You sighed again and faced the pitch, praying innately that she couldn’t divulge you from a single stare. 

“I’m never gonna live this down, am I?” you asked.

“I can drop it altogether,” she stated. “If– you tell me where you raced off to so suddenly afterwards.” You turned to her, your smile all but gone. You swallowed painfully, traipsing through a maze in your head at how you were about to go about this conversation. 

You hadn’t told Rebecca about what had happened between you and Roy after the double date. You hadn’t told Keeley, either. It was a secret that you hadn’t intended to keep, but it had all seemed like the easiest option. To let things dissolve until the prying questions from your friends about yourself and Roy came to a close. That– and the fact that talking about it out loud made it all the more real. 

Sure, it’d been a month since the talk, the deal, the confession– whatever you could call it without it being too sad. And sure, you’d told yourself everyday that it was the easiest option to take. Less complicated, no strings attached, all that jazz. 

But– and it was a massive but– it didn’t mean you and Roy could immediately switch everything off when you were around one another. It didn’t stop those tired stares from earlier that afternoon, or the soft way Roy handed you your Christmas present (and the fact it was burning a hole through the lining of your bag, unopened). 

You smiled sadly at Rebecca. “I have something to tell you.” 

Rebecca shuffled in her chair, her expression dropping into one of concern. Quickly, she reached out and grabbed your hands with her own. “What’s going on?” 

You sucked in, ready to speak, but were cut-off by the whirlwind that Keeley Jones took with her everywhere. She dropped herself into the seat next to you, making you and Rebecca flinch. “Fucking hell– I almost got stuck in the mob outside!” Keeley exclaimed. She turned to you both, and her face dropped instantly. “Oh god, I interrupted you, didn’t I?”

You smiled at her softly and let out a breathy chuckle. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” you said gently, meaning every word. She embraced you without question– firmly, warmly, as if she was attempting to make you feel better without even knowing what was wrong.

“Right on time, Keeley,” Rebecca said. Keeley reached over you to grip Rebecca’s hand in her own. She took one of yours in her other, and the three of you held each other’s hands lovingly. 

“What did I miss?” Keeley asked. 

“Well–” You sighed. “Where to start?” 

You told them everything, your girls. They listened, and squeezed your hands in their own at the right moments. They smiled sadly when you spoke, and looked at you like you were gold, and never interrupted. At the end, they hugged you from both sides. 

The boys ran out onto the pitch, with Ted, Beard and Nate at the sidelines. The whistle blew, and the match started. 

You tried not to think of him, but it was impossible. You thought of Roy as the ball was kicked into play in the centre; cameras on him, suit donned, hair slicked back and beard shaved to perfection.

You thought of him because you’d finally said it out loud– he’d turned you down, stopped this thing between you before it’d even had the chance to start, and it would be okay. In time, sure, but it would be okay. 

When you got home that night, you remembered the present in your bag. It was wrapped neatly, too neatly for what you’d assumed Roy was capable of, and topped off with a small card. You opened it in the darkness of your bedroom and read the words slowly. 

Just another thing to remind you of home. Roy.

You swallowed away the want to cry and opened the gift. Inside a small box was a strip of four photos, the kind you get from a photobooth. You stared at them in awe, flashing back to the night in which they’d been taken– a month before your departure from the club. 

Yourself, Ted, Roy and Sam were shoved uncomfortably into a photobooth in a local Richmond night-club. The four of you were squished beyond belief, but that didn’t stop you from thinking of it fondly. A drunk and impromptu night, right before the beginning of Roy’s troubles with playing the game. It had been your idea to get everyone into the booth, and you’d practically dragged Roy in against his will. You and he were shoved into one corner so badly that you’d practically had to sit on his lap. Sam sat on Ted’s lap beside you, and they smiled together into the camera. Each photo showcased a different laugh, a different smile, but not from Roy– until the last picture.

That’s when you’d draped your arm around his shoulder and looked at him face on. He’d looked back, and, in that millisecond of softness behind his eyes, the photo had been snapped.

You’d totally forgotten about that moment, had never actually seen the photos until now. Roy had picked them up. He’d kept them all to himself for this long. Even after the end of his career, his time at Richmond, all of it. He’d kept them. 

It had been there once, the possibility of something. It had been there more than once. You and Roy, Roy and you. It was snapped up in moments like then that you hadn’t realised until the end of his career. He may not have realised it either, until that time in his Jeep where feelings had seeped into the leather of those fancy car seats.

There was only so much you could think of the what could have been before it all became too much. The one that got away, the right person, wrong time, whatever it was. You’d been thinking about all of that since after the double date, but you didn’t want to think about it anymore. 

There was nothing you could do about it but move on. You couldn’t ponder or think in hindsight or imagine a different possibility. You had to move forward, and that’s what you were taking his gift as. Recognition that it was there, but now it was gone. 

You clutched the photo strip to your heart, just for a moment, and then you let it go. Perhaps this was exactly what you’d needed. Perhaps it was what Roy had needed, too. In some backwards way, it made everything clearer. There was no bad blood and there never would be. Your feelings were free, and a weight had lifted from your shoulders. 

At the end of the day, you’d run after Roy Kent once, and it had still resulted in this outcome. At the end of the day, you’d both confronted what you felt and still picked the option that was best. 

For the first time in a month you slept soundly, without thoughts that rattled around your head. Your mind was clear, so was your heart. Christmas in Richmond had finally come to a fucking close. 

A few weeks into the new year, Roy Kent was restless. His routine was static now. The constant grind of getting up, of filming, of dealing with the press. He was still a favourite on the telly, and you still watched him religiously. Alongside your own sluggish work, getting home to a new episode of Soccer Saturday spurred you forward. It kept you in the loop, in the know, and despite Roy being on the other end of the television screen, it kept you in his life. 

Pluto Press had become worse. There was no reason for you to deny it, and no way you even could. You’d been there for eight months now, and were very much out of the honeymoon phase. You hadn’t touched your novel since before Christmas, and you were feeling the repercussions of it. 

On the other side, Roy was feeling that same shift. The disconnect from the football world was grating on him more and more, and with every match missed or only seen from the insides of a studio, parts of him were disintegrating alongside. 

He texted you a lot. 

Jeff won’t stop talking about his wife. I can’t fucking stand it. 

Did you watch last week's game? I can’t believe Bumbercatch scored that shoddy fucking goal.

Isaac is really struggling right now, isn’t he? 

You replied to them all, because Roy was always right about football to an extent. You’d noticed it, too. Isaac McAdoo’s sudden struggle with being captain. The pressure that was placed upon his shoulders last season suddenly came to light. 

At every game you saw live, you noticed it even more. Perhaps that was a knowledge that Roy wouldn’t ever have now, but only saw over VTs. 

During the final week of January, you grabbed lunch with Sam. Sat opposite him in a small Richmond cafe, something lurked in the air. He scanned his menu a dozen times before he picked something, and smiled whenever he caught your eye, but you knew something was up. 

“Hey.” You reached across the table and grabbed his hand. “What’s up?” you asked sincerely. 

Sam let out a long sigh, and his shoulders collapsed. “Truthfully, I cannot pinpoint it. We are doing well in the FA Cup, the days are starting to get longer, yet I feel this immense pressure that I cannot explain.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You squeezed his hand and smiled. “Richmond are under a lot of pressure. I’m not surprised that you’re feeling it as a player.”

“It’s Isaac, too,” Sam said smally. “He has not been himself for a month now. We’ve tried to help him, to reassure him and show him how hard we’re working, but it doesn’t seem to be sinking in.” 

You retracted your hand and went for your glass of wine instead. “Hm,” you hummed. 

Sam’s eyes widened. “You’ve noticed it too, haven’t you?”

You nodded, taking a sip from your glass. “He’s overthinking it all. I can see it as clear as fucking day.”

“I know. I just wish he could see it, too, so he could start easing the reins. He has been tough to be around, you know.”

“How so?”

“During debriefs, he yells at us. On the pitch it’s even worse. You saw him during our last game.”

You thought back to Richmond’s match from the week prior, where Isaac had started on Colin after a missed assist. He wasn’t himself in the slightest, and his team were trying and failing to deal with the repercussions. 

“What’s Ted doing about it?”

Sam shook his head. “I do not know, but I hope he does something soon. We are up against Leicester City next week, and we need to be ready for it.” 

You smiled at him apologetically, trying to offer hands on support. There was nothing you could do to fix this for the guys, which was always a hard pill to swallow. You missed them so vibrantly. Half of your days at work were spent thinking about the next time you’d get to watch them all play, or drop by during training, or see them like this with Sam; outside of the office or the stadium. 

“Anyway– enough about football. How are you doing? How’s work?” 

You grimaced immediately, but tried to hide it by taking a large gulp of your wine. 

Sam saw through your facade, and frowned immediately. “Is it that bad?” 

You slammed your glass on the table. “Define bad?” 

Sam copied your grimace, but sat higher in his chair. “Come on, lay it on me.”

You sighed deeply, and readied yourself to word vomit all over the table. “It’s not even the hours, or the commute, it’s everything else. They delegate work to me like I’m two levels higher than my current position, and sure, it’s nice that they trust me for that, but what I’m paid hardly covers my job description, let alone the extra work. I have no time to write anymore, my boss is a creep, my colleagues never want to grab a drink after work anymore, the centre of London fucking sucks, and– well–”

You inhaled, paused, and exhaled again.

“It’s not AFC Richmond. It’s not you guys.” 

Sam’s smile filled you with warmth, and it was his turn to reach across the table for your hand. He squeezed your fingers affectionately, and you thought about whether or not to tell him about Roy. It was probably best not to divulge everything to him, not because you thought he’d spill to the team, but because you were trying to move on still. 

Still.

“You know you are always welcome at Nelson Road. We miss you too.”

“God, that just makes it worse.” You dropped your head into your free hand. “I know Rebecca would find a job at the club for me in a heartbeat, but Keeley has taken over my role and is so much better at it. She deserves the spot more than I do, and I just– I can’t fathom asking for favours.”

“What about Roy?” Sam asked, and your body stalled. You sat up straight, and slid your fingers away from him quickly. 

“What about Roy?” you repeated. 

“Is there nothing you could do for him? You know, a personal assistant, or his agent, or something like that.”

You snorted immediately. “Are you joking?”

Sam smiled in amusement. “I’m just saying it could be a good opportunity,” he joked.

“Oh, fuck off,” you huffed. 

“You have always been an unlikely pair, you and Roy,” he said. “You make a good team. Plus, I have never seen someone put him in his place like you have. It takes a strong person to do that.”

“Enough,” you said, smiling. You finished off your wine and looked sadly at your empty glass. “I need another fucking drink.”

“Get a bottle,” Sam said. You perked your brows at him excitedly. “I have– what is it called?- gossip.”

“Sam Obisanya has gossip. What the hell has been going on?”

Sam shuffled on his chair in excitement, and your heart melted. You loved him so. “Keeley encouraged all of the players to get this dating app–”

“Bantr,” you said the name before Sam even could. 

“Ah, she has got to you, too.”

“Long ago. But go on.” You rested your elbows on the table and dropped your chin into your hands, ready to hear everything. 

“Well, I have been talking to someone.”

“Someone,” you repeated, widening your eyes. 

“Yes. And, well, she is intelligent and smart and loves literature.”

“Awh, Sam!” You almost exploded out of your seat, too full of excited energy to care about others sitting around you in the cafe. “Have you met up yet?”

“No, not yet. But I hope to ask her soon. The guys are being very supportive.” 

“Well, you’ll have to tell me all the gory details when you finally meet up.” You grinned at him mischievously, and he slapped your arm playfully. 

“I don’t kiss and tell!”

“For me, Sam Obisanya, you will kiss and tell.” 

For the remainder of lunch, you and Sam gabbed like you’d known each other since you were children. It always felt foreign whenever you were reminded of just how little time had passed. You’d only known the guys for less than two years, yet Richmond and the team had become your home. You’d only known Roy for that same amount of time, and… well. Look what happened there.

In fact, not to your knowledge, these same thoughts littered the minds of every member of AFC Richmond alike, every once in a while. For Rebecca, she thought of her departure from Rupert, and how much she’d grown in that time without him. For Keeley, she thought of her career, and what else she could do to open doors for herself as a businesswoman. For Isaac, he thought of his leadership, and how he’d never be able to replace the likes of Roy Kent. 

And for Roy– he thought of you, and what he’d halted before it’d even started. He thought of Richmond, his old team, and what he’d left behind after he’d all but abandoned them. 

Secretly, Ted thought of Roy, too. He thought of picking up his phone and texting him, he thought of asking for his help while Isaac struggled to see the bigger picture of the game. Ted’s thoughts soon became reality, and then it was too late to take back the text that he chose to send to the ex-Richmond captain. 

A few weeks later on your way back from work one Friday, battered and bruised both physically and metaphorically, you caved. You got out your phone and clicked the call button next to Roy’s name, not even thinking twice about it. 

He picked up on the first ring.

“Hey,” he said softly, as soft as Roy Kent could possibly say anything. 

“Hey,” you spluttered, smiling to yourself. 

“Hey,” he repeated, both of you at a loss for words just a tad. You hadn’t called each other many times, and never without a warning text beforehand. 

“We should probably stop saying ‘hey’ before it becomes an endless cycle.”

“Hey,” Roy said again, and you giggled down the phone. “What’s the occasion?” he asked. 

“Long day– week– at work, and I’m in desperate need of a drink with someone that doesn’t care about useless things like gossip, or shit reality telly, or… or…” Your mind went blank. 

“Two-in-one shampoo and conditioner.” Roy finished your sentence.

“Exactly! Useless!” you exclaimed. 

“A drink sounds lovely,” Roy began. “But, I can’t tonight.” 

You stopped walking suddenly, overcome by disappointment. You swallowed back the urge to cry just a little, but crying about Roy being too busy this evening to go for a pint was fucking crazy. You weren’t crazy, and you blamed it all on the general lack of sleep and emotional trauma from your fucking day job. 

Instead, you opted for a joke. “Got a hot date?” you asked, panicking slightly. Roy growled lowly. Evidently, it had not been funny. “Okay, so no date, then.” You attempted to save yourself. 

Roy thought to himself, sat on his sofa in his gym gear about to leave his house– what could he actually tell you? This evening, he’d agreed to meet Ted and Isaac to impart some wisdom onto them in an attempt to help Richmond at their next game. This was the closest Roy had come to being around AFC Richmond since he’d retired, and he knew you’d latch onto that idea immediately. 

Perhaps, a lie was best. Perhaps, it was easier this way. 

“No, you’re right,” he said convincingly. “I am going on a hot date.”

“Oh,” you let out. You didn’t mean for it to sound so sad, or for your voice to be so coarse. It just slipped out like that. You coughed dryly. “Oh, right!” you exclaimed, trying to save this trainwreck of a conversation, and a poorly made joke that you couldn’t actually believe was real. 

Roy was dating. Four months since he’d shut you and he down, and he was back to dating. 

“I need to go soon, actually.” Roy knew he’d fucked up. “But– how about next Friday?”

Truth be told, you’d love to say yes to his offer. Inside, however, you were deeply raging. It wasn’t the fact that you hadn’t had sex in borderline two years, or that Roy had moved on far quicker than you had since before Christmas, it was because he actually had a fucking date. And you didn’t. 

Or, perhaps, you did. 

“I can’t,” you blurted. “I actually have a date, too.” Jesus, you should have gone to school for Drama. You started walking again as you felt something that resembled confidence surge through you. You wouldn’t let Roy win, not this time around. Sure, there was nothing there anymore in ways of romance or more, but there was still competition. 

“Oh, right.” Without meaning to, Roy said exactly the same as you had. 

“He’s not much of a football fan, either. It’s quite refreshing.” You lied.

Roy stood up from his sofa as fast as humanly possible. “What?” he almost bellowed it. “Well, he sounds boring as fuck. Great job.” 

“Well, my previous experiences with footballers haven’t exactly gone perfectly, have they?” you said smugly. 

Roy short-circuited in his living room. To anyone that saw him from outside, he’d look like a statue about to fall off its perch. “I– well. You–”

“Am I wrong?” You knew you’d got to him. 

Roy breathed in deeply through his nose. “No. Now fuck off,” he said sternly. “Have a good evening.”

“Have a good date!” you yelled in amusement, before Roy hung up the phone immediately after.

You strolled back from Richmond underground station with a smile on your face. With each passing day, things between you had got easier. In some weird way, talking about dating other people had allowed a barrier to descend. Friends. Good friends. You were content with that.

The Saturday after, you entered the Dogtrack on a particularly cold afternoon in February. The air cut you deep to your core, but the buzz of electricity from the approaching match was enough to warm you. AFC Richmond were still very much contenders in the FA cup, but McAdoo’s captain tactics had still been subpar at their last game. 

As you made your way to the home box, you prayed that he’d eased the reins. Football was a game after all, and you missed seeing that spark in Isaac’s eyes whenever the ball came into his corner. Rebecca and Keeley were talking away as you sat in your seat, too engrossed in conversation to notice your arrival. 

“Ted said it was a success, so I guess we just have to believe him,” Rebecca said. 

“Good on Roy, though! It’s been fucking months since he’d even stepped foot on a proper football pitch,” Keeley said jovially. 

“What’s this about Roy on a football pitch?” you questioned, crossing your legs to get comfortable. Keeley twisted herself to face you happily, wrapping her arms around your neck in greeting. “Hi, babes,” you whispered to her fondly. 

“Roy didn’t tell you?” Rebecca replied. “Last Friday, he helped Ted with the Isaac problem.”

Keeley sat back in her seat once more, tightening the Richmond scarf around her neck warmly. “We’ve nicknamed it the Isaac problem. Seems fitting, don’t you think?”

Last Friday. Last Friday night. You sighed heavily and raised your shoulders to your ears from a lack of what else to do. “Well, I’m sure Ted was a very hot date,” you muttered.

Rebecca and Keeley caught eyes confusedly. “What?” they said simultaneously. 

You waved your hand at them. “Nothing. I’m just an idiot. Nothing new.”

Keeley found your hand quickly. “Everything alright, babes?”

You nodded at her, softening your expression. “Yeah, yeah. Just been a long few weeks at the office.”

“God, you need to get the fuck out of there.” Rebecca crossed her legs strongly, raising her chin. “You know, I could speak to admin and see if there’s space–”

“Rebecca,” you interrupted her. 

She waved her hand this time, brushing off your sternness. “I know. It’s fine.” 

“Let’s just watch the match, okay?” you leant over Keeley to grab Rebecca’s hand. “It’s positive that Roy helped Isaac out, he’s got heaps of experience being captain here to have done something. And it’s… well.” You smiled to yourself. “It’s good that he’s back around the game a bit more, isn’t it?”

Rebecca patted your palm. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

The three of you settled into your seats in comfortable silence, feeling the growing roar of fans as the time until kick-off loomed ever closer. You surveyed the pitch before you, noticing the thin layer of frost on the green grass, the white breath of ten-thousand fans, the blue tint of the sky as if colour graded by an expert film editor. 

You always associated the Richmond team colours with one person, not the entire team as a unit: Roy. It was Roy you’d first met almost two years ago in that car park out the front of the training facility. Sure, he was wearing black as is his custom, but when you’d spotted him in his football kit on the field, the colours were forever imprinted behind your eyelids. The reds and blues all over the Dogtrack, the blue letters on Ted’s believe poster, the number six above Roy’s all cubby. He was everywhere. He was everywhere around you. 

But, he wasn’t here today. He hadn’t been to an actual Greyhounds’ game since his retirement. He hadn’t stepped foot on the grounds, or spoken more than a few chaste words to Ted and Beard in the city– he’d only really spoken to you. And you weren’t a part of Richmond anymore, not really. You didn’t have an office a few doors down from the locker room anymore, you didn’t have lunch with Rebecca with too much wine involved for a working day, you didn’t have Roy. 

All of a sudden, your chest compressed painfully. Your heart rate accelerated, your breathing spiked. You felt sick, ill, like you could easily sit on the cold concrete of the stands and never stand up again. You didn’t know why it’d taken you so long to realise that everything had changed, and you could have sworn you’d felt the shifts from last year when they’d all happened. If that was the case, then why now, why here, did you feel so utterly alone that you could hardly stand it?

You’d moved past this! You’d settled somewhere new, with new people, in a different, grey part of the city. You’d adapted to the ways you’d still fit in– lunches, quick drinks, impromptu visits to Roy’s or Mae’s or Keeley’s or whatever. That’s how it all worked for you, and it had been doing so since last year. So, why now?

“Babes.” Keeley grabbed your hand swiftly. “Are you okay?” she questioned, but you didn’t have the emotional capacity to look her or Rebecca in the eyes. You knew you’d burst if you did. 

“Darling.” Rebecca leant closer to you. “Breathe. Just breathe, sweetheart.”

They watched as you broke down in the stands again, not four months after Roy had broken things the first time. Now, this was a different ball game. Complete and utter rejection of the life you thought you’d finally made for yourself, by yourself. A life that wasn’t actually what you fucking wanted anymore. It was all shit. This was all shit.

You sucked in a stuttering breath. “I don’t think I can be here right now,” you said coarsely. 

Rebecca and Keeley nodded quickly. “Okay, what do you need? To go inside? To wait for the game to be over?” Rebecca said.

“To go.” You gulped down a large breath. “To go now.”

“Okay,” Keeley said strongly. “Go, babes. Do what you need to do.”

You got up as quickly as you’d sat down, and started towards the inside of the stadium. You moved slowly, needing to clutch your hand to your heart at the halfway mark just to make sure it was still beating. Anyone could see this was a panic attack, but you didn’t want to admit that things had gotten this bad. The culmination of everything finally hit you in the face. Innately, you’d known this was going to happen, but you didn’t think it’d happen here. Your home. 

The crowd growing louder didn’t exactly help, but when they cheered suddenly at the teams arriving on the field, you could feel the vibrations within you. You could feel your blood, your flesh, your heart beating. You shut your eyes and breathed it all in, not daring to turn around and look at the pitch. 

Then, the cheering increased. They were screaming, yelling, exclaiming, doing whatever football fans did when something big happened. Had someone scored already? That wasn’t possible– kick-off was another thirty seconds away. 

“Oh my fucking God!” Keeley jumped up from her seat immediately and bound towards you. “Babes.” She gripped your shoulders gently. “You might want to turn around.”

“I just need a minute,” you said, calming down slightly. 

“No, I think you’re really gonna want to see this,” she tried again. “Come on, just one small look, and then you can go wherever you need to go for some peace.”

Reluctantly, you followed her instructions. You turned back towards the pitch, overseeing the players in their starting positions, the ball not yet in play. The fans weren’t yelling at the team, they were screaming at something– someone– else. 

As your eyes focused, you realised what you were seeing. 

Adrenaline spiked through your blood, as invigorating as an ice pick to a frozen heart. You lunged towards the home box wall, gripping your fingers over the edge as you looked down at him. As if on cue, Roy Kent tilted his head to the stands in search of you. When he found you, he stopped. He smiled. Your frozen heart shattered instantly. 

“I’ll be right back,” you told Rebecca and Keeley. Then, quite stupidly, you jumped the wall of the home box and into the stands. 

“Hey!” Keeley.

“Be fucking careful!” Rebecca.

As soon as your feet hit solid concrete, you ran down the steps of the stands without a second thought. That’s when you heard it all– his chant. 

He’s here, he’s there, he’s every-fucking-where, Roy Kent! Roy Kent!

It echoed throughout the pitch like a homecoming song. It hadn’t been heard here since last May, when Roy hobbled off the pitch during his last game of football ever. 

“Roy!” you yelled. You didn’t think he’d hear over the immense noise, but he turned back to you immediately. Almost like he’d been listening out for you this entire time. 

Roy paced it to your side of the stands, past Ted and Beard, past the guys on the pitch, past the incessant roar around him. You did the same, descending more stairs each time you stepped forward. When you reached the last few, you jumped them, bombarding into the locked gate at the bottom barrier. 

Roy caught you by the shoulders before you folded in half like a lawn chair. His grip sprouted those same colours in your mind– blue, red, blue, red, blue, red. 

“Thanks for dropping by,” Roy said, smiling so excitedly that you could hardly believe what was happening. 

“I could say the same for you, you know,” you replied, utterly overcome. 

“Turns out I missed it here. Just like you, I missed it here.” His thumbs gently rubbed your shoulders, sending shivers down your spine. 

“We missed you, too.” You wrapped your fingers around his forearms, just as an excuse to hold him a bit longer. 

“Coach!” Ted yelled from twenty metres away. You caught his eye quickly, and you knew the game was about the start. Roy heard him, too, but didn’t move a muscle. 

“Go. You have a team to coach.” You pushed Roy ever so slightly, just a small nudge to remind him of where and what he was. A coach at AFC Richmond. “Go!” you chuckled, pushing him gently in his chest this time. 

Roy sent you one last colossal smile, then dipped forward to place a warm kiss on your cheek. He bound away as soon as he had, and jogged back to Ted, Beard and Nate at the sidelines. The stadium erupted as the whistle blew, signifying the start of a new era for the Greyhounds, and perhaps– for you, too.

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[sickuma]

ORPHIC (2) — A Simon Riley fic.

❱ This is the last part of HIRAETH ! I don't want to drag it any longer than this. It's so much fun writing this and exploring more words to add to my vocab! Everyone's been nice (except when they give me their therapy bills) I love you guys srsly, You make writing so much more fun <3

I should have gotten this done HOURS ago, but I had to do stuff and just finished working out T-T but hey, writing block isn't killing me rn.

ꜝ？This fic may contain heavy topics such as death, depression and melt-downs, if any of those are not to your liking. Please do so exit the fic. Angst warning!

➴ SYNOPSIS — Ghost mourns of what's lost; reminiscing of the memories, apologizing, begging for you to hear his desperation for your presence as he sat Infront of your tombstone.

QUERENCIA — (n.) A place from which a one's strength is drawn, where one feels at home; the place where you are your most authentic self.

“Relationships in the military,”

He spoke, pausing to stare at your eyes. Searching for hesitance,

“They tend to be tragic.”

“But we’ll be together, no?”

“look , kid, it's not as easy as it sounds—”

“Do you feel the same way?”

You cut him off, not giving him the chance to speak. Catching ‘the’ simon ghost riley off guard, “Yes.” he breathes out.

“Then I don't see the problem, lieutenant, I love you, you love me. That's what barney said.”

He stares at the void, remembering yet again another memory he kept special in his heart. He wondered if you had not pursued him at that exact moment. Would he still feel the raw pain that plagued his heart now? Would it still hurt all the same?

If you hadn't stubbornly shown him how determined and real your love for him was, would he still be in this position, dreading every day that comes knowing the person he needs the most was taken from him.

throwing his gear onto the side. Making his way back to his quarters without giving anyone a second glance,

Ever since you've been gone, the base has been awfully tense. The rest understood his situation, trying their best to be there for him, all while attending to their own duties. The past few weeks had been the hardest, They could tell Ghost had been on edge.

He’d only speak to them if it's necessary, otherwise he’d be kept to himself. As if the past had repeated itself, there appeared a gap between his friends and him. He was mourning, and he plans to keep mourning,

If that means having you on his mind,

Then he’ll mourn forever.

“Ghost?”

Price’s eyes widened at the sight of Ghost, 

It’s the first month since you've passed away and the rest of the team planned to pay you a visit to show respect and also let you know how missed you are, not just by them, but also by Ghost who seemed to have shut his whole world out.

He saw how Ghost shown a tough facade when he would hear him call for her,

At night, when everyone slept, Ghost cried and wept for you to come back. Begging aimlessly for your return,

Begging endlessly to feel your arms around him again.

Price didn't expect him to be joining them. He hadn't been. The team visited your resting place a couple of times before, he’d invite him but he’ll make up reasons not to go. Price figured he still hasn't accepted that's where your body lays,

The ride to their destination felt almost eerie, the tension leading the hour long drive. Nobody dared to speak, not a single word.

Ghost’s mind resides elsewhere, watching the scenery they drove past. Chest heaving up and down as he struggles to fathom that he’d finally visit you, 

No—he was more occupied with thinking about how it’s only been a month.

It felt longer than that. It felt longer than his training days. He felt more exhausted, more agitated, and more angry. He resents every breathing thing he comes across to,

He knew it sounded cruel, but why do they deserve to live and you don't? You have been the kindest, and yet you were taken first. He couldn't understand,

As a soldier he’d lost multiple comrades, having to face funerals—visit the cemetery, and deal with death itself. Though yours felt unreal,

It felt as if his bones were crushed. He knew how pathetic it seemed, clinging onto someone who's never coming back, but he'd rather cling onto the past if it means having to hold you close to his heart forever, where you belonged.

、 

Everyone got out of the car,

Everyone but him.

Price sighed, not planning to pry. If his breath felt shallow just by being here, he could only imagine what Ghost felt at this moment, considering it was his first time to ever be here.

A few minutes passed, and the three sat quietly at first until soap had cracked a dad joke, lifting the atmosphere just a little bit. They spoke as if you were there, sitting with them, price would constantly glace at Ghost, who sat quietly in the car. He wondered what ran through his mind.

“We should give him his own time to talk to [name].” Price groaned as he stretched when he stood up, the two following closely behind him. “He needs this.”

Ghosts' eyes caught them approaching. He felt his stomach sink. He knew he planned to wait until they finished before he took his turn as he expected himself to break down and shed tears. He didn't want them to see that. And yet he still felt his heart beat faster when they came back,

Price threw him a small smile, a smile of empathy.

As if that's his cue, he jumped out of the car. Taking slow strides towards ‘your’ direction. He never thought he could ever despise a cemetery so much in his life,

The only thing he could think of was the way you laid down there, away from his grasp.

No matter how slow he walks, he soon finds himself in front of ‘you’, oh well—a stone that only proved to him that you're gone. “Have you been waiting?”

He couldn't believe it,

He was talking to a mere stone.

But he’ll take what he can get.

“Wake up.” he stared down with an expressionless face, “enough laziness, [name]. Get up from there.”

“You can have all of the shirts you want from me, you can pluck my eyebrows, do it, you can get a puppy. Anything you want just— just wake up.”

His voice betrayed him the more he spoke, 

The longer he looked at the stone, the way he kept reading the credentials written on it, the more it felt real. Every passing second is just another evidence of your disappearance,

“You always call me mean,”

He swallowed,

“Yet you're the one who left first.” his cold gaze softened, the more he looked at the ground. Under the ground where your body laid.

Where the body of his lover slept eternally.

“How do I find you now? Now that I'm stuck here?”

He recollects his promise, the promise to reunite in your next life. It all pierced through him. He’s a soldier, yet he finds himself worrying about the most ridiculous thing. What if you'd reincarnate before he passed?

What if you leave him behind again,

What if this time you find someone else to love?

What will he be then?

“Remember when you'd go on tangents about how fascinating reincarnation and universes are? I believe you now, okay? So— so wait for me.”

He sat down, quietly enjoying the breeze. He couldn't deny the pain of the piercing ache that developed in his chest. It never really went away. He would simply distract himself.

“I find it hard to sleep again, love.”

“The bed feels colder without you in it. Do i sound cheesy? Do not make fun of me. I want to be honest. Maybe doing that would lessen the overbearing hurt in my chest. It’s just—it’s only been a month since youre gone and im already a fucking mess. I mean, look at me,”

He chuckled,

“I look rough, dont i?” he sighed, “would you still find my eyes pretty even when i tire them out by crying?”

He looked away, observing the serenity of the cemetery. He wondered how many souls wandered around, and if yours were one, and if you stood close to him.

“I feel—just terrible. When I woke up, I thought I'd finally lose it, well I did. I caused price trouble, you'd have scolded me. I really did it this time, pushing everyone away as if you'd come back to tell me off. That's not ever happening, and that's what hurts the most.” 

He spoke slowly, yet he felt out of breath.

“It feels suffocating—you know? To live without you.”

“I don't know why I woke up, I wished I didn't. Maybe then I'd be with you.”

“It’s scary, [name], so scary.” he whispered, the rasp of his voice sounding more evident. “I have no certainty if we’ll see each other again; and I need nothing more than to hold—to feel you again. To hear your voice, to take in your scent. If I have to give everything up for that, I will.”

“Anything just to have you back to me.”

He stared at the words engraved on the tomb,

“but if i have to wait decades or centuries—i will—without hesitance, without a blink, i will. For you, I'll keep being patient.”

“That's how worthy you are [name]. So wait for me please, no matter how long it takes for me to find you again, please wait.”

He spoke lowly, but certainly, no matter where you are, he hoped you'd recognize him, hoping you’d recognize his eyes you loved so much,

“Even if it means i'll have to die again and again, i’ll keep searching for you until we’re back home until i can hear your voice call my name again.”

“Wait for me, [name].”

Hoping you’d recognize your Simon.

、 

Somewhere along the memories,

、 

Somewhere along the universe,

、 

Somewhere along life and death,

、 

Somewhere along—

、 

“Simon.”

“Pardon?” he looked at you, puzzled expression written all over his face. “Whatd you just say?”

“My simon.”

We're home.

[da-rulah]

Confessional - Cardinal Copia x F!Reader [Part 2]

Summary: Cardinal Copia is driven out of his mind when you disappear from the Ministry. He cannot find you anywhere, hasn't seen or heard a peep of you, and it's beginning to take its toll. But he's not the only one who's noticed your absence…

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Pathetic Copia, panty-sniffing kink (except it’s not panties...), masturbation (male), endless pining, a very scheming Terzo

A/N: I cannot believe the response I got to Part 1 of this fic... it was my first ever Ghost fic, and yet y'all blew it up! Thank you SO MUCH. 🥹 You wanted a part 2, so here's your part 2. And soon, part 3...

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3

How much torture can one man endure before he breaks? How long does it take for a man to go insane?  

The Cardinal supposed it was six days worth. Six days of torture, and he was dangerously dangling over the edge of sanity... And if he was being honest with himself, the majority of it was self-inflicted. 

He didn’t mean to torture himself. He never meant to debase himself so, and somehow managed a full six days before he gave in the first time. And if you hadn’t disappeared off the face of the earth, perhaps the guilt that had made a permanent home in the pit of his stomach would have been enough to stop him – but just those first six days of not seeing nor hearing anything of you around the ministry were enough to drive him utterly demented. 

But the longer he went without seeing your pretty face in the halls, or hearing your sweet voice when you sang at Mass with your siblings, or being in any kind of proximity to you, the more confident he became that he would never be found out. You would never catch him in his filthy little secret... 

The first time had been a mistake – or so he told himself. Something he did in the heat of the moment, one he couldn’t control and felt utterly miserable over after.  

Those six days he had been on high alert, hoping to see you in the halls or in his seminars but nothing. He wanted so badly to apologise to you, his shame of what he felt was him corrupting your sweet nature in that damned booth but he’d not been given the chance. You’d simply evaporated...  

And so, after he had done a lap of the ministry in search of you one last time on the evening of the sixth day, he sulked back to his quarters trying with all his strength not to pull his greying hairs from his temples in frustration. He slammed the door behind him, frisbeeing his biretta from his head and to some distant corner of the room before he threw himself down on his bed with a huff. 

After a few deep breaths to calm his irritation, he stood and shook the coat of his cassock off, tossing that somewhere else in the room – frankly, he could care less where it landed, as well as the shoes he kicked off. He sat back down against the headboard of his bed, head laying back against the wall as he stared at the ceiling, closing his eyes for a moment of peace. 

But since confessional, he hadn’t been granted a moment of peace at all. No, his mind was occupied.  

Whether it was the guilt, the shame, the unprofessionalism... or on better days, the images you had planted in his mind of your sinful dream... even the sounds of your mewls and whines from beside him and the smacks to the wood as you’d met your end, kicking out involuntarily as you’d climaxed... His mind was always occupied. 

That evening had been no exception, his mind wandering over those pretty little noises you had made, the way you’d said his name almost breathlessly, the sounds of your fingers sliding through your slick as you practically cried for him.  

The Cardinal found himself once again struggling to control himself – he'd managed to for the last six days but by this point he was just exhausted by it all. How could he hold off anymore? How could he sit here and torture himself with vivid memories of you fucking yourself beside him without allowing himself to indulge in the privacy of his own quarters? 

His thick cock had already swelled in the confines of his pants, as it had many times since your encounter but this was the first time he would allow himself the depravity of actually touching himself to the thoughts of you. It had felt too filthy, too impolite to you to do such a thing and yet after six fucking days of no interaction at all, he was too frustrated to deny himself a moment longer. 

His gloved hands slid to his belt, skilfully unbuckling with one hand as the other palms himself through the material. Before long, he had freed himself, and the black leather of his glove was swallowing his cock over and over as his hand stroked languidly, a low hum emanating from deep within his chest. 

How he wished it was your far softer and more delicate hand, perhaps your mouth if he was lucky enough. But this was the best he could do, pathetically stroking himself behind closed doors to the mere memory of you. What he’d give to worship you, to feel you and to taste you, to smell you again.  

His eyes shot open, his mind cruelly reminding him of the unwitting gift you had left behind... He looked guiltily to the side of his bed, to his bedside cabinet where if he was not mistaken, the drawer knob was glowing at him. But hey, that could just be his descent into madness...  

And it was that madness that had made him do the unthinkable, right from the beginning. He had kept that glove of yours – the glove you had left in such haste, the glove you had baptised with your juices. It sat in his bedside cabinet, under a stack of old Beano comic books he hid from plain sight in case a member of the clergy came to his chambers and judged him for the one thing he kept with him from his childhood. 

He’d be lying if he said that it had sat there and been forgotten about; it certainly hadn’t. But tonight was the first time he had considered retrieving it at all... He couldn’t, could he? He certainly shouldn’t... But his mind had been swimming with could haves, should haves and would haves for six fucking days and frankly, he was done with it.  

To hell with it.  

He reached over to the drawer and yanked it open, shoving the old Beano comics to one side and rifling until he found that discarded piece of lace he’d stolen. He rolled it in his hand for a moment, the other resuming the slow strokes to his cock. He shut his eyes again, head lolling back as he stroked, over and over, moans rolling from his half-painted lips between gentle curses and whispers of your name. 

As if the Cardinal couldn’t become anymore unhinged in his blissful state, he brought your glove to his face, catching the lasting aroma, a delicate bouquet of sin. He growled to himself like an animal, fist pumping himself to the point of no return, his cock angry and red, profusely leaking over his own gloved hand. His abdomen tightened, a garbled groan muffled by his fist pushing the lace against his face, cock jumping in his hand. 

It was quite pathetic really, how quickly Copia came as soon as he pulled that glove from its’ hiding spot. He’d made a mess over his shirt, whimpering into the glove as spurts of his seed landed as far up as his chest. And yet, he continued to fuck his fist into overstimulation, cock pitifully attempting another orgasm as more cum simply dribbled over his glove this time around. Even then, he only stopped himself because the stimulation was becoming painful... Although he was sure he probably deserved that.  

As he sat limp on his bed, the haze of his release fading quickly as realisation of what he’d just done hit him. With tired limbs, he balled the glove back up and threw it back into the open drawer beside him, smacking the drawer shut in anger at himself. How could he be so debauched? So disrespectful? 

So perverted.  

It was bad enough he was thinking of you. It was bad enough that he was masturbating over the thought of you. But that... he wasn’t sure he could forgive himself for acting this way. It didn’t matter how he felt about you, didn’t matter that he was transfixed on you or infatuated with you. This should never have happened... 

And yet, there was a next time. And another time after that.  

In fact, as the days passed and turned into weeks – still without so much as a glimpse or a whisper of you around the ministry – he found himself going back to that drawer more and more. The last time was never the last time, no matter how much he promised to stop, to behave himself. 

There was always a next time...  

You’ve been hiding for almost four weeks. How you were getting away with it, you weren’t sure... Perhaps you had memorised your Cardinal’s movements a little too well in the time your fantasies had begun to take hold, and so now you were able to avoid every possible encounter that may have been.   

After all, how on earth could you face him? You were absolutely mortified at yourself and the thought of being anywhere near the Cardinal made your skin crawl... Not because you despised him, or held any animosity towards him at all – how could you, possibly? - but because you felt like a fool; an idiot who got too caught up in the moment, confessed something that overstepped every conceivable boundary a person can set, and had managed to make the poor Cardinal stoop to your pathetic level.  

You had utterly humiliated yourself. 

In your efforts to avoid Cardinal Copia, you had in turn ended up avoiding most of your duties as a Sister of Sin. No seminars, no services... You had skipped on your work duty more often than not for fear of bumping into him in the hallways, faking some terrible stomach flu for longer than could be believed.   

You had even skipped out on Black Mass – a big no-no in the Ministry. Unless you were on the reaper’s death bed, you were to be at Black Mass.  

As the service was held, Papa Emeritus III took to his pulpit and noticed immediately that one of his siblings was missing. How disappointed he had been to come to realise it was you who hadn’t showed. You were one of his favourites, so sweet and virtuous. Whilst he did enjoy corrupting his Sisters of Sin, somehow he always felt you had been off limits... Still, a harmless flirt to keep you on your toes had never hurt. His soft spot for you was nothing if not platonic and playful. 

The Cardinal had noticed your absence at Black Mass also, and frankly it concerned him. Had he driven you out? Had you left the Ministry altogether? He’d not seen you for three fucking weeks, and he couldn’t help but feel a panic rise in his chest, that ever-nagging guilt growing into a nauseating feeling of utter self-hatred. He’d never forgive himself if you had left...  

After Mass had ended, Terzo grabbed the Cardinal for a quiet chat in his office. He knew damn well that you never missed a Latin seminar, that Copia likely saw you more often than most.  

“Cardinale, forgive the intrusion on your plans for the day. I’m sure you have places to be,” he began as he sat behind his desk. Copia stood in front of him, wringing his hands nervously. Part of him wondered if he were to be chastised for his behaviours, as if somehow Terzo had known... Had you told him what had happened at confessional? Did you tell him you were leaving... because of him?  

“Non è un problema, fratello. (It’s no problem, brother.) My only plan was to prepare for the week’s seminars.” His voice wavered slightly, and yet Terzo never noticed as it wasn’t unusual. Copia tended to be a little nervous around Terzo. He looked up to him so much, always had... But to Terzo, Copia was the annoying little kid he would make eat the bugs as a ‘joke’ while he and his older brothers looked on and laughed. And all Copia had ever wanted was to be just like Terzo.  

“I merely wondered if you had seen Sister _____ in your seminars lately? I noticed she wasn’t at Black Mass and... well, that’s not like her, is it?” Terzo asked, leaning on the desk on his elbows, waiting for an answer.   

The Cardinal could feel a drop of sweat forming on his brow. This felt like a trick question, like Terzo was expecting something of him. 

“Uhhh, I... I haven’t. It’s not like her, hai ragione (you’re right) .” 

“Hmm,” he hummed, leaning back in his chair. “I wonder what the matter is? I’ll be sure to look out for her, make sure our piccolo topo (little mouse) is alright. Please let me know if you see her in the next few day, sì?”  

Copia let out a quiet breath of relief, the conversation seeming to end without suspicion. “Sì, fratello. I will update you. Would you...” he stopped himself, wondering if this might be overstepping, implicating himself somehow, but deciding to continue, “would you mind letting me know too? If you see her, I mean...” 

Terzo looked up at Copia with eyes narrowed and a smirk playing on his painted face.  

“Why would you like to hear, Cardinal? Hai una cotta, eh? (You have a crush?)” he teased. Copia’s eyes widened, panic clear on his face.     "N-no! No, I just... This is unlike her,” he panicked. 

 “I wouldn’t judge, Cardinal. She is a pretty young thing...” he mused, winding Copia up further just as he had since childhood. 

“No, fratello... I mean, well, sì, she is but... I don’t...” Copia stumbled, making himself to be more obvious.  

“He doth protest too much,” Terzo laughed, “I will tell you if I see our pretty little Sorella around. You can go back to planning your seminars, Cardinal.” Terzo waved his subordinate out of his office and gladly, Copia took the chance to leave with his head hanging low. 

Outside the halls had quietened after the end of Mass. Copia leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath and wiping the sweat from under his biretta on his sleeve. He felt so burdened, so absolutely horrified at the thought that now even Terzo had noticed your absence in the ministry. God, he hated that he called you pretty... He hated that Terzo called you ‘piccolo topo’. His reputation proceeded him, and Copia would be damned if he got to corrupt you... 

In the days after Black Mass, Copia tried desperately to find you around the Ministry – with no success. He would end up defeatedly walking back to his chambers late each night, having hoped that maybe he would find you in the kitchens or the library. If you had been trying to avoid him, perhaps you would be eating later, studying in the middle of the night... But nothing. 

But at least he could go back to his room, to his bed, to your glove.  

The knock at your dorm door remained ignored by you, forcing Sister Katia, your bunkie, to get the door with a roll of her eyes. She’s just about had enough of your shit, having to pull twice her weight lately to accommodate whatever this episode was. The only reason she hadn’t lost her cool at you was because she knew this wasn’t like you, and whatever was causing this – it had to be bad. 

“______, it’s for you. A ghoul,” she sounds exasperated... Perhaps you should make the effort to at least see what the Ghoul wanted, praying to Sathanas that it had not been Copia who sent him your way.  

You pulled yourself from your bunk, your depression-outfit of three-day old sweats and a faded old graphic t-shirt making even the Ghoul at the door look at you in vague disgust. He said nothing to you though, his eyes following an arm he stretched out, holding a note with a very telling red wax seal over the fold – a ‘III’ in roman numerals that screamed Terzo...  

“Oh, shit,” Katia was not one for subtlety, clearly seeing the same wax stamp and realising that it was, in fact, a summons to visit Papa in his office the next morning. Dread filled you, the colour draining from your features... Papa only summoned Sisters of Sin for two things, and in your current predicament, both options felt like an option you would rather avoid.  

He was either about to make a move on you, to have his way with you if you were to let him, or he was to chastise you and dish out punishment as he saw fit for your little disappearing act.  

“Thank you, Ghoul. I uh, apologise... for my state,” you smiled weakly. He bowed his head slightly with a flutter of his eyelashes, as if to say ‘no problem, Sister’ - a ghoul of few words, this one... - and he turned to leave, walking down the hallways as Katia closed the door.  

“Well, open it... You know Papa doesn’t mince his words. Are you in trouble, or about to get laid?” Katia smirked as she tried poorly to lighten the mood. You rolled your eyes and popped the wax off the paper, unfolding to read your summons. 

“Sorella _______,  

It has come to my attention that you have been missing from the ministry for quite some time now, your duties going abandoned.  

Should this note find you well, I expect you in my office at 8am sharp with a very good explanation as to why.  

I look forward to your company,  

Papa Emeritus III”  

Had you not thought of yourself as such a tiny little insignificant cog in the Ministry, maybe Terzo’s note wouldn’t have come as such a surprise to you – but knowing your Papa had noticed your absence and was, shall we say, less than impressed unnerved you.  

“Suppose you’ll have to shower now,” Katia bumped your shoulder with hers. “Oh and wear that short habit with the red stitching you’ve got! You’ll need to butter him up a bit, by the sounds of it...” she winked, climbing into her bunk and picking up her discarded magazine.  

Perhaps she was right... If nothing else, perhaps it may distract him just a little, to give you enough time to weasel your way into an excuse for your absence. Terzo could easily be swayed if you indulge him just a little, without having to compromise your own integrity. 

Your hands shook as you lifted a fist to lightly knock on the large double doors of Papa Emeritus III’s office, fear setting in that you were about to have to fight for your place at the Ministry. Terzo was known to be ever so slightly more diplomatic than his brother’s, but a blatant disregard for duties always riled him up the wrong way – and in your depressed and embarrassed stupor, that was exactly what you had done for four weeks. 

“Entra,” you heard from within, the deep timbre of his thick Italian accent sending a shiver down your spine. 

You did as asked, barely opening to door to slink in as if hiding – like any sudden movement would alert him and have him pounce. You waited at the door, practically backed up against the wood and waited for instruction. He was furiously typing at his typewriter, the keys echoing around the stone walls until a loud ping sounded, and he pushed down the carriage release that had it loudly creaking back to its place. He looked up at you then, papal paint freshly adorned over his masculine features. 

When he saw the fear on your face, the shame you already harboured, his features relaxed slightly – not that it gave you any relief to your anxiety.  

“Sorella ______, how I’ve missed that pretty face in the halls, eh?” he smiled at you, monochrome gaze sweeter than you had expected. Sister Katia’s words circled your mind... 

“You know Papa doesn’t mince his words. Are you in trouble, or about to get laid?”  

While you prayed for neither, at least one was inevitable. 

“Come, stand here for me, hm? Let me see you,” he beckoned you to stand before his desk, leaning on the wooden frame by his elbows. 

Cautiously, you stepped forward, standing on the ornate rug between the two chairs he had facing him. He hadn’t invited you to sit, and you knew better than to do something you had not been asked of right now.     “There, bellissima (beautiful)!” he leaned forward, outstretching a hand to pinch at the hem of your skirt, shorter than usual. He ran the material between his fingers, tracing along the red stitching, the hair of his knuckles tickling your upper thighs. It was only now you realised he wasn’t wearing his usual white gloves. You cursed Katia for this idea, hoping not to give the wrong impression. “I like this one, Sorella. The red stitching is....” he took a deep breath in, “quite something.”  

“Th-thank you, Papa...” you stuttered. Terzo looked you in the eye, and sat back in his chair again.  

“Do you know why I called for you, Sorella?” he asked, his fingertips meeting as he leaned back.   

“I-I... I think I’m in some trouble, Papa,” you admitted, looking down at your feet, twiddling your fingers for something to focus on.    “Sì, I’m afraid so. You see, I noticed that you were not at Black Mass on Sunday. It worried me, and so I spent a few days attempting to run into you, to perhaps see you in a seminar or the library but... poof, nowhere in sight,” he made a gesture with his hand, like a puff of smoke had left his palm. 

You remained silent, biting your lip.  

“Even Cardinale Copia has not seen you, so he tells me - his top student!” Your cheeks reddened at the mere mention of his name. “He seemed quite dismayed, actually...” 

You swallowed nothing, gulping down the guilt that threatened to rise. You had caused that, upset your precious Cardinal with your desperate lewd actions. Probably made him reconsider what little authority he had in the Ministry, what with the overshadowing of the Papas.  

“Do you wish to tell me what has forced you to become a mere figment of your poor Papas imagination, tesoro?” he pouted dramatically, a flirtatious glint in his pale white eye. His approach was somewhat light-hearted, and that unnerved you more than if he had been yelling at you. Was he not angry at you?  

“I... I’m sorry, Papa. I haven’t quite been... feeling myself,” you all but whispered, head hung low in shame.  

“Oh, tesoro...” he stood from his chair and rounded the desk quickly, a look of pity and worry etching deeper lines into his paint than usual, “are you sick?”  

He stood close to you – so close you could feel his warm breath grazing over your facial features – and placed the back of his bare hand to your forehead, testing your temperature. You stilled, not a single breath falling from past your lips as you couldn’t help but watch him closely. You could understand why many a sister before you had fallen for his wiles before you, but whilst he made you nervous, you simply could not fathom the idea of intimacy with Papa Terzo.     Not when Cardinal Copia still occupied your mind... 

“Hmm, you’re warm enough, sorella. Not a thing wrong with you physically, eh?” he winked and curled his finger under your chin, stepping back and sitting against the edge of his desk. 

“N-no, I’m quite alright physically.”   

“Then what is troubling you, mia cara?” 

Your palms felt clammy, the weight of the truth on your shoulders almost unbearable. There was no way you would ever tell Papa the truth, you’d burst into flames on the spot out of sheer humiliation. No, you were to keep that to yourself. 

But words failed you, and before you knew what you were doing, your eyes had filled to the brim with tears, silently spilling down your reddened cheeks.   

Terzo panicked... The only tears he was used to were that of the sister on her knees or in his bed for him, and entirely pleasure induced. But this was you, and you were neither of those things to him. He rushed to you, his hands hovering somewhere around your head as he contemplated what to do, how to help you. Hugging you felt unprofessional, awkward almost. He settled for wiping your tears from your cheeks with his thumbs as you began to sob. 

“Mi dispiace (I'm sorry), Papa...” your thoughtful use of Italian swelled his heart, “I... I’ve been in a dark place. I will do better, I promise. A-and I'll take whatever punishment is fitting.”  

Terzo contemplated for a moment. Sister Imperator had been quite insistent on some kind of penalty, especially for missing Black Mass. They had only a brief conversation on the matter when having their weekly meeting, in which Imperator suggested he decide on a fitting punishment himself, but that one should be given. 

But you looked so broken. Your behaviour was so unlike you, so out of character and whilst he didn’t know the cause of this low period, he was no stranger to the idea of depression taking hold for no reason whatsoever. He put it down to that – merely a chemical imbalance in your pretty little head. In good conscience, he could not punish you for the hole you had been in recently. At least, not without giving you a chance to bounce back. 

“Sorella, there is no punishment for you today. But I must ask you to return to your ministerial duties, sì?” You were stunned to silence – that you had not been expecting.  

“I’ll have to keep an eye on you, be sure you attend seminars and Black Mass again this coming Sunday. But you must find an outlet, sì? Something good for the soul. And if I find you have not been attending...” he drew in a deep breath, puffing his chest out, “...Sister Imperator will have my balls in a jar, no?” he laughed. “Don’t make me look like un debole idiota (a soft idiot), tesoro.” 

You nodded quickly, promising you would do your duties.  

“Brava ragazza (good girl),” he smirked, the flirtatious look back in his eyes. “You can start with today’s Latin seminar. The Cardinale will be pleased to see you!” His eyebrows pumped upwards twice suggestively, and rounded his desk once again, sitting back down and typing on his typewriter once more.  

“You are dismissed, Sister. Ready yourself for your Cardinale,” he smirked, eyes focussed on his paper. 

Your blood ran cold at his words, the only heat between your thighs as you were forced to picture yourself literally readying for him... You wondered if the innuendo had been intentional or not; for your own sanity’s sake, you had to choose not.  

You couldn’t bare to imagine the repercussions of Terzo, your Papa, knowing of your little... predicament. 

But you left as he dismissed you, dread filling in the pit of your stomach at the notion you had to not only face the ministry again, but you had to face him.  

Your Cardinale...  

A/N: Again, thank you guys SO MUCH for reading and loving part 1. I hope you love part 2 just as much, and look forward to part 3... (coming real soon, i promise!) In the meantime, you can submit drabble requests HERE

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3

If you are tagged, you either requested to be, commented you would like a part 2, or reblogged to read later, so I figured you may like part 2 anyway... If you'd like to be removed, please do tell me! No offence will be taken! TAG LIST:

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Donquixote Masterlist

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Donquixote Rosinante:

Despiértame mi Corazon (Dance Series) (Gift One-Shot)

You have been on the run from Donquixote Doflamingo, sheltering and caring for a young, sick child. Your emotions catch up with you as you process the change your life has led you to. You’ve left it all: family, career, friends - all to support Rosinante in his quest to cure the boy. Upon seeing you in this state, your Corazon will do anything to see you smile again. 

Donquixote Rosinante's Journey with Modern Slang (crack dialogue)

Mild background context: Law's skills as a doctor saved a person with the devil-fruit with the ability grant a single wish. Law used that wish to bring back Donquixote "Corazon" Rosinante as he was: lying in the snow and unresponsive. He wanted the chance to use what he's learnt to save him, and save him he does. Both now in their 20s, Rosi is adjusting and attempting to learn the current slang to relate to his grown son.

Rosinante's Trip Down Under (one-shot)

Modern AU, Rosinante visiting your hometown in Queensland Australia. He is overwhelmed by the cultural differences, but loves to learn the slang.

I Like Matching (NSFW One-Shot)

Returning home from an away mission for your boss, you are immediately spirited away to the nearest unoccupied space and met with the lips, hands and grasp of Corazon. He missed you, and it was showcased in his neediness in every kiss and motion planted against you.

A bit of both (NSFW One-Shot)

You and Rosinante take your trust to a new level, engaging in two levels of weaving you had yet to use in sequence with one another. Kink-fic: bondage, gagging, praise (reader receiving. Gender neutral terms)

Close your eyes and breathe (One-Shot)

Struggling to find rest, you decide to take yourself to the kitchen in the marine base. You stumble upon your commander slouched over his desk and asleep on a pile of papers. Taking him to his quarters, he wants to help you find rest in slumber.

"Mine" (NSFW One-Shot)

Upon viewing you and your boss, Doflamingo, get a little too close to one another, Corazon feels the urge to finally state a claim over you. He loves you, and now wants you to understand one thing and one thing only: you belong to him. You are his, completely.

A day is all I need (One-Shot)

Serving as Trafalgar Law's chronicler aboard the Polar Tang, he convinces you to finally cast aside your former love for a man long since passed. In a bid to move on, you find an intriguing figure in the market who bore a striking resemblance to the man who held your heart.

Donquixote Doflamingo:

Pretty Red Ribbon (One-Shot)

After your birthday was ruined last year at the hands of a certain pink-feather-donning, glasses-wearing gentleman who you love to hate, your fellow warlord, Sir Crocodile, gives you a little gift you did not expect to darken your doorstep.

Play Stupid Games Win Stupid Prizes (NSFW 1/2)

Doffy is attempting to gain the upper hand against you. He's longed for you, yearned for you - in his own unique way. Considering you never give in to his flirtatious advances, he takes matters into his own hands and attempts to spike your drink. The problem? Your quick wit and nimble fingers switch whisky glasses with him, causing unforeseen problems that he has no cure for…

Play Stupid Games, Win Stupid Prizes (NSFW 2/2)

Doflamingo has been sending you gifts of flowers and trinkets over your time apart, but he refuses to acknowledge you in public. Attending a gala held at marine headquarters. He attends with two concubines on his arms, and you arrive with your friend on the arm of a marine. Doflamingo attempts to make you jealous, but you decide to play his little game by using his own methods against him. You invite Sir Crocodile to play this little game with you.

She Was Mine (One-Shot)

A new transfer is tasked with guarding Doflamingo as he visits the world government headquarters. Doflamingo becomes intoxicated and reminisces about the love of his life to this new transfer, confessing he still loves her and wants to be with her.

Doflamingo's Childhood Friend (Imagine)

Mini-fic of what it would be like to be promised to Doflamingo in his youth, only for that bond to sever when Homing defects.

Seat Number Four (One-Shot NSFW)

You are stuck on an eight hour flight between two gentlemen you have never met before. Unaware of their prior history and dislike for one another, you attempt to relax and watch a new series your friend recommended. The series was a little more raunchy than you had anticipated, and you become a little uncomfortable in your seat between the two attractive men. Doflamingo reassures you your need is nothing to be ashamed of, and he would be more than willing to help you out if you allowed him to teach the younger blonde how to best please you. Doffy x f!reader x Sanji

Teach Me (NSFW One-Shot)

As a Dressrosian concubine, you were accustomed to receiving all kinds of clients. The one you looked forward to the least was Doflamingo. Not because of who he was or what he's done. Simply for one reason. He was bad at sex, and you were bored.

Doflamingo Undergarments (NSFW mini-fic)

Doflamingo walks in on you, his administrative assistant, wearing nothing but his face plastered on your ass.

Happy Birthday Doflamingo (One-Shot)

Doflamingo x reader x Rosinante

Donquixote Doflamingo was in his own little world within the warlord meeting at the world government headquarters. Suddenly, an uncommon source reminded him what day it was, and he was left perplexed and pleasantly surprised.

Better than to break tradition (NSFW One-Shot)

Rival ranches, the Donquixote family and your own, find neutral ground after a successful rodeo tournament. Coming to your aid, at the crowning of a cap on your head, you and Doflamingo know far better than to break tradition. (Cowboy au).

Forge in Gold (Sapsorrow Au)

Two brothers and a young slave girl are bound now by the metalic band atop her unity finger. A spectral ghost, the promises of love, and lies and deceit have the three of them tangle in a bed of lies. There is no happiness to be found at the end of this tale, only sorrow and heartbreak.

Regrets (drabble)

Donquixote Doflamingo is on the sidelines for once, never learning the skill to woo you to the beat of a drum or swell of a melody. Rosinante had, and Doflamingo is regretting that decision.

Between Two Dragons (NSFW Alphabet and mini-fic)

As the bride of Donquixote Doflamingo, it was your role to satisfy your king. He would not allow a single hand to be laid on you other than that of the pure blood of his Donquixote celestial heritage. When Rosinante returned home to the Donquixote Pirates, and expressed interest in you romantically, Doflamingo was the first to suggest a non-conventional unification between the three of you.

Caesar Clown

It's not what it looks like! (NSFW One-Shot)

The ship has taken on a few more guests, the overcrowded Straw-Hat vessel now struggling to accommodate the number. Offering your room to the prisoner, Caesar Clown, you returned to find a sight you were ill-prepared to meet. Caesar had found your secret, and had them over his nose and mouth while chasing his high into his gloved fist.

Misc Drabbles:

You're Angry at the Tall Men: Drabble (One-Shot)

He knows what he did to earn your wrath; your fury ignited in your eyes and the flames physically tangible and searing the room with your scorn. Your brow was furrowed, your lips curling into a snarl to bare your pearled teeth at him.Buggy, Shanks, Mihawk, Sir Crocodile, Corazon, Doflamingo.

Dreaming of You (Drabble) NSFW

They couldn't help it. You looked so heavenly in their dreams. The way they had you wrapped around their body as a marionette in their minds, dancing for them as they awoke to sticky blankets when they jolted upright. Their thoughts got the better of them, and they are wracked with guilt. Doflamingo, Caesar, Rosinante "Corazon".

[serverusslaype]

Shameless, pt. 6

snape x professor!reader fic

Shameless Masterpost

omg hey guys... after all the replies on the last update, i almost cried because i honestly did not expect this kind of reaction at all (what an emotional ass b*tch, i know). i can't believe people are reading this, it's mad to me. honestly. i appreciate you all so much, thank you for showing your support. i love you guys :') <3

here is part 6. i hope you enjoy it, reading your comments made me write this today and i think i'm happy with it. please let me know what you think! <3

LESGOOO!!

Hot tears streamed down your cheeks as you ran back to your quarters; your chest tightening with each strangled breath that you struggled to suck in. Merlin, how could you have been so foolish as to think that Severus Snape, of all people, would ever treat you differently? You really believed he could feel something for you? You had the word 'clown' stamped clearly on your forehead right now.

Even though the current moment was not something you would wish on your worst enemy, it couldn't have happened at a better time. The castle was empty of students - apart from the handful that stayed during the Christmas break - and you were free to run, crying carelessly, without the worry of being seen and ending up looking like some sort of lunatic. In your mind, you were beating yourself up; cursing yourself for reacting so fucking hysterically. Your mind was telling you that you had no reason to be acting like this, it's not like you were in love with the man - you merely had feelings for him. But it was a different story with your heart. In your heart, you felt like your reaction was valid. Your heart was screaming at you, saying you're not stupid for feeling so betrayed and hurt by Snape's sudden change in demeanour. You were right to cry; to feel like you'd just been punched in the gut. Your heart and mind were in a brutal, relentless war with each other, and it was tiring.

Gods, you felt like such an idiot, why did you even bother going down with that plate of damned food? After all of the hurtful comments he made towards you, why did you even still waste your time with him? All of the red flags were on display like a high-street shop window yet you still ignored them. Your altruistic, caring, empathetic little self got you hurt again.

You slowed to a stop, stumbling to a column of stone in front of you, hidden in the shadows. You leant against it, trying to slow your racing mind.

"Y/N?" A soft, worried voice called from behind you, tearing you from your destructive thoughts. You froze. Whoever had just caught you having a little breakdown wasn't who you wanted it to be. Even though he was sending you on a rollercoaster of emotions right now, you still wished it was Severus that had just called your name. As you were leant against the stone column with a strained palm, your head dropped down in a feeble attempt to hide your distraught face. "Hi Hagrid." You sighed softly, voice quiet and timid. Slowly, you lifted your head up, wiping away your tears with rough fingers. You turned around with a weak smile and reddened eyes and saw the half-giant gamekeeper stood still with a twist of confusion and sadness sat on his face. His brows knitted together in sympathy as his eyes fell on your puffy, wet eyes.

"Oh, Y/N, whatever's the matter?" Hagrid asked quietly in his thick Scottish accent, taking a step towards you slowly, as if you were a scared animal.

"I'm not sure I want to say." You said, a pathetic laugh falling from your lips as you grinned stupidly at your ridiculous state. Hagrid's mouth twitched downwards. "It's… complicated."

"You don't have t'explain. Would you like to join me for a cuppa? I was just headin' back," Hagrid said, holding up a dead and limp ferret in his hand, "just finished gettin' some ferrets for Buckbeak. He loves these things he does." He laughed happily, a toothy grin appearing on his face as his eyes twinkled. You couldn't help but smile wider at him. Hagrid always made you feel better, his energy was just so undeniably positive and happy.

"I think I'd like that." You nodded, swallowing down your cries. Hagrid beckoned you towards him with a welcoming arm. You gladly accepted and stepped towards him, a few fresh tears leaving your eyes.

"Where's that 'appy little Hufflepuff we all know n' love?" The gamekeeper placed a comforting arm around your shoulders, giving you a squeeze as you laughed. "There she is!" He beamed as the two of you began to walk in the direction of the forest.

"Do you think Buckbeak will remember me, Hagrid?" You asked curiously, sniffling as you stared at the gravelly ground the pair of you were strolling on.

"Oh, I'm sure 'e will, you know, you were one of 'is favourites back when you were studying here at Hogwarts." Hagrid assured you with a hearty chuckle. You glanced up at him, surprised.

"One of his favourites? Are you sure?" You frowned, a doubtful and brief laugh falling from your lips.

"I'm almost cert'n, actually." Hagrid smiled down at you. "He'll cheer you up, that's f'sure. Better than I can!" He added, prompting you to shake your head at him. For a clever man, Hagrid is quite painfully oblivious sometimes.

"Don't be silly, Hagrid, you always put a smile on everyone's face." You protested his words quite sternly. Hagrid's bushy brows raised slightly in surprise at your tone.

"I appreciate that, Y/N, really, I do. Sometimes I can't help but feel a little useless 'ere sometimes. I mean, all o' ya are professors of import'nt subjects," He explained, glancing down at you for a moment. Again, you were already shaking your head at him. "I take care o' the creatures 'nd the grounds o'course, but there's times where I feel like I can do so much more. I mean, Care o' Magical Creatures ain't really a life skill tha' people need." Hagrid shrugged lightly as the two of you neared the pathway into the forest that was rather dim looking due to it being mid-Winter. The chilly breeze began to bite at your cheeks, painting them rosy.

"Perhaps not for most students, but it is for students that have dreams of opening up a… zoo of some sort, or maybe they're a budding Magizoologist! There are so many options, I just don't think you realise." You said, stopping in your tracks to let Hagrid go first. You followed him once he was in front of you.

"I s'ppose." Hagrid nodded as you watched his frizzy, long and bush-like hair bouncing on his upper back. There was several seconds of silence before you decided to bite the bullet and ask about the man who'd caused you grief earlier this afternoon.

"Do you talk to Snape much?" You asked, wincing as you spoke his name. Your heart betrayed you as it began to speed up in pace, anxiously awaiting Hagrid's answer.

"Not particularly," Hagrid replied as the two of you continued walking through the forest. The sun had started to set, casting a growing shadow over the woody scenery before you. "'e's not the friendliest o' people." He added with a dry chuckle.

"Yeah." Was all you said before Hagrid stopped and turned around, almost making you stumble into him.

"Did 'e say somethin' 'orrible to ya?" Hagrid asked sternly, genuinely concerned. His Scottish accent had become thicker out of anger.

"No! No, I was just… curious." You replied, your eyes twitching as you glanced between Hagrid's worrisome eyes and the soil beneath the soles of your shoes. Hagrid stood still for a moment, his eyes scrutinising you. It felt horribly similar to someone else.

"Okay. Well, if he does. You tell me, alright?" The gamekeeper said sternly once more, tone very serious, yet it had a twinge of concern wrapped up within it. You swallowed the growing lump in your throat, and nodded quickly. "Alright, good."

"Thanks, Hagrid." You said quietly, almost on the verge of tears again. Your mind was instantly reeling back to the moment Snape had told you to leave, mere seconds after dancing with you. Gods, what the hell did you do to make him change so… rapidly? He was smiling and laughing!

A few more steps and you'd found Buckbeak who was happily laid down beside a tree, leaning against the humungous trunk with tired eyes. "There ya'are, Buckbeak, we been lookin' for ya all over!" Hagrid beamed, that happy smile back on his face. A smile picked at your lips as you watched him walk over to his beloved pet, dangling a ferret out of his hand. Buckbeak almost immediately stood up at the sight of either Hagrid or the ferret - you had money on the ferret, no disrespect to Hagrid. He chirped and bounced over to Hagrid before halting to bow. Hagrid returned the gesture and proceeded to throw the dead ferret in the air. Buckbeak gracefully leaped up, flapping his gargantuan wings and caught the treat with a echoey clop from his beak, a cloud of dust emitting from his ill-assorted feet as they hit the ground with a muted thud. "Sucha' good boy."

You'd forgotten how magnificent Buckbeak truly was. "He's still so beautiful." You commented, stepping towards the creature cautiously. Hagrid turned to look at you with a bright, gappy-toothed grin.

"He is." Hagrid agreed proudly, turning back to admire Buckbeak. It warmed your heart, almost making you forget about the whole ordeal earlier on. "Want ta say 'ello?"

"Always," You smiled, stepping to stand beside Hagrid. You bowed to Buckbeak who was currently staring at you with beady, curious eyes, pawing at the ground with his talons absentmindedly. "Hi Buckbeak, remember me?" You said slowly, staying where you were stood, a little worried of his reaction. Hagrid frowned down at you and gave you a shove towards the beast, in which Buckbeak flared his wings suddenly out of fright. You gasped.

"S'alright, he won't 'urt ya." Hagrid soothed. You swallowed and stepped closer to the creature and held out your hand. "It's Y/N, Y/N L/N, boy, d'ya remember 'er?" He asked giddily. Buckbeak squawked, his head twitching in every direction as he stared at you. He froze for a moment before chirping happily and bounding over to you.

"Hey, boy!" You giggled as Buckbeak pressed his cold, smooth beak against your cheek, chirping once more as he recognised you. "It's been a long time, I know, I'm sorry." Another ticklish giggle escaped your lips as he lowered his head to nudge your hand, encouraging you to pet him. You did so, raising your hand to tickle his neck. You watched as your fingers disappeared beneath his thick coat of silver-grey feathers, giving him a scratch just below his ear.

"Told ya 'e had a soft spot f'ya." Hagrid said knowingly, swaying back and forth on his heels. "Want ta' feed 'im?" He asked, holding out a ferret. You glanced at Hagrid and nodded eagerly, holding out your hands. He chucked it to you and you reached up your hands to grab it, taking a step back from Buckbeak.

"Are you a good boy, Buckbeak?" You hummed happily, waving the limp ferret at him. He squawked softly at you, as if to say 'Give me the damn ferret! Stop waving it in my face!'. A grin broke out on your face and you threw the small carcass lightly in the air, watching in awe as Buckbeak leaped up to catch it once more.

Once night had fallen, Hagrid and you headed back to his hut for a drink of wine, since you both agreed it was too late for tea. The two of you were now sat merrily around his rickety, circular wooden dining table, a glass of sweet Elven wine in your hands. Loud, careless laughter erupted from your lips as Hagrid told you a story of how he caught Benjamin Bluewater - surprise, surprise - in the act of planting a magical fart bomb on Professor McGonagall's chair in her classroom.

"I tell ya', Y/N, tha' boy was a menace!" Hagrid boomed with raucous laughter, leaning back in his chair. You joined him, wiping a stray tear from your eye as your laughter died down. "Ain't never seen 'im look so terrified in all 'is life when I found 'im."

"Y'know," You slurred, smacking your lips together as you tried to wet them. "He also pranked Snape in, err, fourth year I think." You snickered, clenching your jaw slightly as your chest tightened at the mention of his name. You might have been drunk, but it still hurt to think about him. "Bluewater seemed to favour the foul-smelling pranks."

"Yeah," Hagrid sighed, staring out of the window in a drunken, hazy state. He waited a moment before turning back to you, taking another sip of his wine, tutting. "Who was yer favourite teacher then?"

"McGonagall, definitely," You answered quickly, a brief, drunk giggle escaping your lips. Hagrid smiled at you; happy you were feeling a little better. "I'd always got along well with her, and I still do now."

"Minerva's'a sweet soul." Hagrid nodded, his eyes growing lazy as the wine was beginning to take effect.

"Yes, she's… lovely." You agreed, drawling slightly, noticing Hagrid's tired state as you looked at him. "I… think I'm going to… make a move, Hagrid." You announced, sipping your wine again. Hagrid was swaying in his seat currently, absolutely hammered. You snorted loudly at him, catching his attention as his head snapped towards you.

"Wha'?" He slurred, giggling like a child.

"Nothin', nothing," You grinned to yourself, standing up with the glass of wine in your hand, swaying slightly. You quickly downed the rest of it and placed it sloppily on the wooden table, wincing a little as it almost broke. "Thanks for this evening Hagrid, it was bloody brilliant. And the wine," you said, grabbing the wine glass again, holding it up heavy-handedly, "the wine was bloody brilliant too." You giggled again, losing your composure as you looked to the gamekeeper who was now blinking each eye manually. You placed the glass down on the table, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. "Oh my gods, Hagrid, please, get to bed."

"No, am fine! I'll see yee' out," He squeezed his eyes shut and stood up from the table, stumbling through his hut to reach the front door, wine glass still in hand. You had to hold back a snicker as he almost tripped over Fang.

Hagrid held out his arms rather widely, eyes shut and a big dopey smile on his face. You gave him a big hug and stepped back, patting his arm. "Thanks again, Hagrid, see ya tomorrow." You grinned drunkenly at him, stumbling through his door and down the steps. You gasped slightly as your foot hit the soft, uneven grass. The sound of Hagrid shutting his door with a loud, accidental slam startled you slightly as you jumped, quickly turning around to spot Hagrid waving out his window at you. He looked like one of those oriental waving-cat statues you'd find in Muggle store windows. You laughed again and waved, beginning to walk back to the castle carefully, albeit rather drunkenly.

You were alone with your thoughts again as you walked up the grassy hills, the cold and chilly air beginning to freeze you. As you started to chill, you increased your pace slightly, breaking into a jog. The ground beneath you began to spin.

Gods, you were fucking wasted. That damned elven wine.

"Oh, shit," You choked out as you tripped up the stone steps, landing on your hands and knees. You winced slightly at the sharp pain shooting through your limbs, and slowly got up, a loud and tired sigh leaving your lungs. "Shit."

"Professor L/N?" A familiar, irritating voice came from your right as you entered the castle, the comforting warmth engulfing your body.

Fuck me, really?

"Lockhart." You smiled awkwardly at him, trying to stand up straight and act… as sober as possible.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing awake at this time?" He asked suspiciously, eyeing your swaying body.

"Err," You swallowed, your mind racing. "I went for a walk." You said, hoping he couldn't hear how drunk you were.

"At…" he glanced at his pocket watch, "One thirty in the morning?" Lockhart frowned, his ginger-blonde brows furrowing together. You stared at him back with wide eyes, saying nothing.

"Yep. Couldn't sleep!" Was all you said before you quickly took off in the direction of your quarters. Your bed was screaming your name right now and you were eager to answer it's calls. You left Lockhart stood there, utterly confused. You couldn't care less though. As you were rushing off, you realised you hadn't asked him why he was up so late. Bastard, you thought as you speedily walked to your room, deep in your own thoughts.

As you turned a corner, you walked straight into a hard wall of cloth. You winced and fell backwards from the speed you'd bumped into it.

"Ow," you mumbled, rubbing your forehead, "what…?" You opened your eyes to a shroud of black, your heart dropping immediately.

"You should watch where you're going, Professor L/N." Snape's cold voice said, making your stomach do anxious backflips. He has the goddamn nerve…

"Seriously?" You gawked at the Potions Master, that same old feeling of rage boiling in your chest again as you messily stood up, straightening out your robes. "After what happened-" You hiccupped, earning a confused frown from Snape. "-happened earlier, you're going to act like you don't… even know me?" You questioned him angrily, pointing a finger in his face. The alcohol-infused confidence and boldness was in full effect right now.

"I've no idea what you're talking about, Professor L/N." Snape scowled at you, glaring at the finger that was pointed straight at him.

"God, you're such an arse!" You cried out with bitterness, a fresh surge of frustration rushing through you as your hands ran through your hair. Once more, he'd made you cry. Tears were welling in your eyes as you inhaled softly, trying to collect yourself. "How could I even…" You stopped yourself, your lungs burning as you sobbed quietly. "Why did you tell me to leave earlier?" You demanded, inhaling deeply, standing back as you swayed on your feet; eyes glossy.

"You should retire to bed, Professor L/N, you wouldn't want any of your students to witness you in this… embarrassing state." Snape sneered at you. He knew you were drunk. Your lips parted in slight shock as you stared up at him in utter disbelief. Gods, you wanted to curse him so fucking bad right now; the feeling was so overwhelmingly strong that you felt yourself reaching for your wand.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you." Snape warned.

"Do what?…" You repeated quietly, slurring, fire in your eyes. This only enraged Snape further, pushing him to place a hand on your shoulder and shove you backwards against the stone wall behind you. A strained grunt left your lips as your back collided rather harshly with it. Tears brimmed your eyes.

"Don't. Do. It." He hissed, his face mere centimetres away from yours.

And here you were again. Angry. Inches away from each other. Backed up against a wall. His intoxicating scent making you breathless.

You clenched your jaw harshly, tilting your chin up in defiance, refusing to break eye contact as Snape glared harrowingly into your teary eyes. If he was being honest, your lips looked insanely kissable right now, and the tension between you two was driving him fucking insane. Your lip twitched as you continued to stare him down, silently challenging him. Snape could smell the alcohol on your breath and it maddened him.

Why were you coming back to the castle so late at night, drunk out of your goddamn mind? Have you no fucking brain at all?

You sent his mind into a complete mess. Before he got to know you, he was fine, he felt nothing - the word 'feelings' was not in his vocabulary. He didn't hold his breath each time you met his eyes with your curious ones, he didn't feel his heart skip a beat each time you smiled prettily at him and most of all, he didn't feel like dying each time he saw you talking to someone other than him - not that he made it easy for you. He knew he was wrong for feeling that way, and he knew perfectly well that he couldn't have you. But, Merlin, did he want you. He despised - bordering on hate - how easily you broke down his defences and the walls he'd spent years upon years building, protecting himself from the past. Now, he had to push you away to protect you and to save himself the pain. Was it selfish? Absolutely. But was it also selfless? He wasn't so sure.

"Why do you treat me like this, Severus?" You whispered, your brows furrowing a tad as you slumped against the wall drunkenly; the sadness in your voice playing with Snape's cold heart. He absolutely loathed the way you said his name. Each time it fell from your lips, his knees felt like buckling.

Snape said nothing in reply to you.

"Answer me!" You cried, your hands grabbing onto his cloak helplessly as the corners of your mouth tugged downwards; your breath shaky and shallow.

"I treat you the same as anybody else." He said calmly.

"Oh yeah, do you fuckin' dance with Dumbledore in his office, then kick him out without a reason?" You said angrily, slurring your words slightly. Alcohol had loosened your lips.

"Keep your voice down, L/N." Snape warned, his hand tightening around your arm. You swallowed.

"Why? Scared someone will hear us?" You seethed with a blurring vision, ignoring his warning, placing your palms against his chest in a weak attempt to push him backwards and away from you. It felt like pushing against a gigantic boulder. He was incredibly strong. Snape pulled you from the wall and down a darkened corridor, throwing you against another wall. You caught yourself with your hands, your palms splayed out in front of you. You quickly turned around so your back was against the wall. Snape stormed towards you, making your heart pound in your ears.

"Why can't you follow simple instructions?" He returned your vicious attitude, glaring ruthlessly. Your whole body shivered under his gaze.

"Why can't you just be nice to me?!" You exclaimed, growing tired as the tears began to pour from your eyes. Your feelings were becoming uncontrollable and the booze you'd consumed was not helping. "What have I done to you?"

Snape was growing angrier and angrier by the second with you. He couldn't handle much more.

"What more do you want from me, Y/N?!" He hissed at you, his voice strained and almost pained.

Silence swallowed the both of you, your lips quivering as you stared up at him with tear-stained cheeks. Snape's chest tightened with what felt like guilt as he looked at you with uncaring eyes. It felt like an eternity had passed as the two of you stood in the dimly-lit corridor, staring at each other, silent as a mouse.

"I…" You croaked, shutting your mouth almost immediately, pursing your lips. The wine was coursing through you freely now, silently encouraging you to make bad decisions. It was egging you on, whispering into your vulnerable ears like a devil sat on your shoulder. You let your eyes drop to Snape's mouth, resisting the relentless and burning urge to just lean forward and kiss him. In fact, you felt like it was suffocating you. The tension between you two was uncomfortably rife and you were dying to soothe it.

You looked back up into his eyes, you chest rising and falling heavily as you inched your head forwards. Your eyes dropped back down to his lips again. Snape's breath hitched as he watched you tip your head toward him. You were about to close the gap between you two when his sharp voice cut through the blanket of silence.

"You're drunk, Y/N." Severus whispered. Instantly, you reeled back, your eyes snapping up to his. You could almost swear you saw a flash of sadness within them. "Go." Shit, you should not have done that.

"Snape, I…" You whispered back, an overwhelming feeling of regret sinking into your bones.

"Go." He said sternly, stepping away, putting distance in between the two of you. Gods, you really fucked up. Fuck, what the hell were you thinking? Trying to kiss him after what happened earlier? You were absolutely wasted.

Instantly, you slipped away from him, hurriedly walking in the direction of your quarters. You wanted to run away so fucking bad right now, hide in a hole, bury your face and never come out. Tears burned your eyes again and your throat tightened. The embarrassment you felt right now was eating you alive like a parasite.

part 7!

okay there it is... part 6... we're slowly getting somewhere B) hopefully you all don't hate me anymore :( pls

thank you for reading, let me know what you thought!! <3

taglist:

@a-laufeyson

@emilynissangtr

@livillain00

@meowskii

@nooneeveryonenoone

@vesperbatty

@biggest-simp-eversposts

@881127fara

@freshmoneyalmondathlete

@sonoluvr22

@v3lv3tvampir3

@lashipperrubia

@camilla-black

@acakius

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@tellatubbies

[uvobreakmylegs]

New Beginnings

a fic I wrote in earlier in the year for Suiren's birthday :D

Mafia AU, Nobunaga x reader

Warnings: kidnapping, captivity, stalking, delusional Nobu strikes again

Word count: 3.8k

The flowers probably weren't salvageable, Nobunaga thought to himself.

He'd intended on them being a nice gesture, something to make you feel more at ease when you saw them. Instead, they were the first thing you knocked over after he grabbed you in order to keep you from running out of his quarters.

A mess was all that remained of his gesture: the water that had quickly soaked into the carpet while the spider lilies and bits of broken vase were strewn about. A mess that needed cleaning up, but one that he'd been unable to get to for….. Damn, a few hours now.

Turning his attention away from the time and back to you, Nobunaga did feel a little bit of relief.

This whole thing had been a little chaotic, but at least you had finally calmed down now.

After spending hours fighting against Nobunaga, struggling in his grip and crying and just trying to get away from him after the harrowing experience of being kidnapped, you had stilled as you finally sat motionless in his lap with your back leaning against his chest. You still sniffled from time to time, a few stray tears still rolling down your cheek, but you weren't actively trying to escape him anymore.

Nobunaga's arms were still wrapped around you, but once you had settled some, he had placed one hand on your head to softly stroke your hair.

“Finally tired out?” he asked.

You didn't give a response. Earlier, when you'd been fighting him, you had tried to scream as loud as you could, hoping that the noise might get some help sent your way. Nobu had anticipated this, and one of his hands clamped over your mouth to muffle your screams as he told that you'd be disturbing the others on the floor if you did that. It seemed that because of that, you didn't want to answer him now.

Nobunaga tilted his head at you, saying your name in a questioning tone.

“Don't ignore me now,” he said, “talk to me.”

You shook your head.

He considered you for a few moments before he sighed.

“I know that wasn't the best way to bring you here,” he said, “but others had become aware of you. I couldn't risk leaving you out there while enemies knew about our relationship.”

That seemed to strike a nerve.

“What fucking relationship?” you hissed, “I don't even know you.”

“You know that isn't true,” he replied, “I saw you almost every day last week.”

“Yeah, and it was weird as hell to see you outside my apartment almost every day,” you snapped, “you stalking me doesn't count as us having a relationship.”

Nobunaga sighed.

“I hate to go playing the blame game,” he began, “but you do know that I needed to do that since you wouldn't talk to me, right?”

“You didn't need to do that!” you spat, “you could've just accepted that I wasn't interested and left me alone!”

“We made a connection-”

“No we didn't,” you insisted, interrupting him, “you're not my boyfriend, I'm not your lover; we're two complete strangers who happened to have a conversation on the street and went our separate ways after. There's nothing more than that.”

Your voice then wavered when you said “we don't have a relationship.”

Anyone else may have answered the wake-up call in your words, that he was seeing things that hadn't actually been and try to make this situation right by letting you go as you so desperately wanted.

But Nobunaga found himself focused on the fact that you remembered the first time the two of you met. And while you hadn't spoken much of the details of that meeting, the fact that it stayed in your mind must've meant that it was just as significant to you as it was to him.

Despite how short that meeting had been, you had felt a connection to him just as he had to you.

You were just having a harder time accepting it, that you could jump into a relationship with him based on that alone.

For that reason, Nobunaga wasn't at all surprised that you had fought with him during and after your kidnapping, but he was hoping you would given up earlier. Every second you fought him was a second he could've used to prove that he loved you.

“I know,” he answered, “I know you don't get it yet.”

“But this is necessary. To keep you safe,” he added.

“Kidnapping isn't how you keep people safe,” you responded bitterly.

“In this instance, it is,” said Nobunaga, “and eventually, you'll realize that.”

“No-!”

You began to struggle again. Despite how little it had done you earlier, the urge to get away from him took over you once more and you did your best to wiggle out of the firm grip that held you.

Fat lot of good that did.

Nobunaga was starting to get annoyed, but he told himself he couldn't become angry with you. If he did something drastic like hitting you or tying you to the bed, it would make you that much more resentful of him.

“Is this a second wind?” he asked, “if I have to hold you the entire night I will.”

“No!”

Just as before, your attempts to get out of his hold were pitiful, and you were reduced to a sobbing mess within minutes. Nobu watched you carefully, readying himself to cover your mouth again if he had to. He had gotten annoyed with other spiders for the noises their darlings had made on the first few nights they had been taken, and he didn't want to give any of the others any ammo to mock him for you being just as bad.

When your sobs had quieted again, Nobunaga turned you so you were facing him, using his thumb to wipe away your tears before lifting your chin up so you could look him in the eye. You gave him a sour look, but he ignored it.

“I know you want to leave, but I'm sure that in time, this place will feel like home for you,” he said.

You shook your head.

“No.”

Were the other darlings this obstinate when they first arrived? Nobu personally couldn't imagine Feitan, Shalnark or Machi tolerating behavior like this. He sighed again. Hurting you and showing you how bad things could be if he was unhappy was certainly an option, but he had no desire to break you and make you fear him more than you already did. Punishment would only come for truly serious offenses. Right now he needed to be patient with you.

“Give it time,” Nobunaga said, “for the next week or so you won't be allowed out of our living quarters, and if you keep acting up, it could be longer before I let you into the common areas of the floor. After that, you'll be allowed in several points of the building. And maybe on occasion when we get permission, we can go outside together.”

“I need permission to go outside?” you asked. There was a rage bubbling in your eyes again. Somehow learning that made you more angry than afraid again.

“You're mine now,” he explained, “and there will be those who will try to hurt me by hurting you.”

“I'm not yours! People don't belong to people!” you yelled.

You began to hit him again, beating your fists against his chest over and over. Nobu decided it was better to just take this and let you tire yourself out again. Better this than you starting to yell again and force him to hold your mouth shut. Angry tears flowed down your cheeks at the hopelessness of the situation. Surely you realized that even if you managed to get away from him, the amount of security you had seen on your way in was still in your mind, and you would know that there was no hope of you running out of this building without being stopped by someone.

Eventually your assault on him stopped, and you pressed your forehead against his chest in defeat.

It was quiet now, the only noise in the room being that of your ragged breathing.

Should he say something?

… Maybe not. So far Nobu had only managed to upset you every time he spoke, and that certainly wasn't winning him any points with you. The best course of action might be to stay quiet until you said or did something.

And a few moments later, you did speak.

“Why…”

Your voice was barely over a whisper, but he still heard you, and he tilted his head at you as he waited for you to continue whatever you were saying.

“Why did you do this to me?” you asked.

Betrayal.

Through your soft, sad voice, he could clearly hear it. Sense it in the way you now clutched at his shirt. You had trusted him, and he had re-payed that trust by forcibly taking you. That needed to be what this was.

And yet knowing that gave Nobunaga a bit of hope. For you to be betrayed, you had to have liked him at least somewhat. The way you had smiled at him on the day you met was still so clear in his mind. He was certain that there was at least some bit of affection for him in your heart, and once you got over your kidnapping and you realized just how much you meant to him, he was certain those feelings would come back and grow stronger.

Once you were able to get over that hurdle in your head, everything would be fine.

Nobu wasn't sure if you had wanted an answer to your question, but after a few moments, he responded softly “because I love you.”

You didn't react.

Maybe you weren't listening, or maybe the events of tonight had simply exhausted you and you no longer could react. Either way it was out in the open now, and even if you didn't believe him in that moment, eventually you would.

He now had all the time he needed to convince you of that.

When you shifted in his hold and tried to pull away again, his grip around you tightened, anticipating a third attempt of getting away from him.

“Please let go,” you said, not looking at him, “I need to use the bathroom.”

“…. Alright. But leave the door unlocked,” he said, his tone becoming a bit more firm as he added “there'll be problems if I need to break it down.”

You nodded somewhat hastily, and with that, he finally loosened his grip completely. You were fast to scramble off of his lap and make your way to the bathroom door, closing it a bit too quickly, but you listened to his warning as there was no click of the lock after.

But what he could hear after was the sound of you sobbing again, your soft cries echoing slightly against the smooth surfaces in the bathroom. He had thought that maybe you had run out of tears, but apparently not.

Now was probably the best time to give you a bit of space. You hadn't immediately run for the door to the entrance of his quarters like he was worried you would, so you were deserving of that much.

As he sat and waited for you to process your emotions, his mind went back to the day the two of you met and the random act of fate that put the two of you together.

He'd run into you on a windy day when you were coming out of a flower shop, a bouquet of red flowers in one hand while the other had been occupied with shoving your wallet back into your bag. While you weren't turned away from him, the majority of your face had been obscured from his view due to the wide-brimmed hat you were wearing.

At first he had only barely acknowledged your presence, his eyes naturally going over to you when you had initially exited the shop just to be aware of the new person that was now in his sights. Nobu hadn't anticipated that you might be a threat, but with his status in the troupe and the dangers that came with having such a position, it didn't hurt to be too careful. The would-be assassins of the world took many different forms.

He didn't spend long looking at you once he determined that there was nothing to be worried about, turning his attention back towards the walkway in front of him, his thoughts going back to the troupe and recent issues that had cropped up, ones regarding the owner of a private security company that operated within Yorknew. From his peripheral vision, he had noted that you had begun walking away from the flower shop entrance, heading in the direction opposite of him, and the thoughts of you would've quickly exited his mind once you were out of his line of sight.

Nobunaga would've passed you by completely had it not been for what happened next.

A gust of wind blew past you, and it was strong enough that it knocked your hat off of your head. You tried to grab it with your free hand but you weren't fast enough, and you started to follow, trying to hurry and grab it before it got too far away or touched the ground.

Instead, Nobu caught it.

It was mostly instinct that made him catch it. Just an instance where he saw from the corner of his eye that something was coming towards his head and he reacted. He only realized what had happened when he felt the material against his fingers and then looked at it to confirm.

And then you walked up to him, thanking him for not allowing the thing to blow away.

Something about you struck him. Something about the way you smiled and thanked him as he handed the hat back to you.

Something about the way you looked at him so sweetly.

“No problem,” he told you, having been barely able to remember that it was best to give you some sort of response.

That probably should've been the end of it, but something in him compelled him to keep talking to you. You'd set the hat back on your head when the wind blew again, and while this time it didn't escape you again, you needed to grab and hold it in place.

That had made for an easy enough topic of conversation.

“Doesn't seem like you dressed appropriately for this sort of weather,” he commented, brushing some of his hair behind his ear.

“Guess not,” you agreed, laughing as you said “it looked nice enough out today, so I didn't think to check what the conditions were. Lesson learned. Won't do that again.”

Nobu nodded along absentmindedly before glancing at the bouquet you held. All he'd really noted before was their red coloring, but now that he was looking at them for more than a few seconds….

…. Weren't the Spider Lilies associated with death and bad luck?

“Someone die?” he asked, nodding towards the flowers.

“Hm? Ah, they do tend to have a negative connotation, don't they?” you said, laughing a little.

Then you shook your head, adding “but these are for me. I like them.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I think they're pretty.”

Nobunaga glanced at them again.

The shade of red was nice, he supposed.

“I am a little surprised, though,” you said, “I didn't think most guys were interested in flowers. Not most guys around here, at least.”

“I can't say that I'm interested,” Nobu answered, “I've just heard enough about them to know that they're typically a bad sign.”

“Yeah,” you said again, “but I still like them.”

The conversation came to an end after that; you apparently had somewhere you needed to be. And to be fair, it was the same case for Nobu, as he was very likely going to be late for a troupe meeting.

You thanked him once more for saving your hat, and shortly after you were on your way, once again heading in the opposite direction of him. And although your face was quickly obscured from him, Nobunaga felt certain that he saw you smiling to yourself as you walked away.

After watching you for a moment, he had turned and began to walk as well, heading back towards his destination, though his thoughts had remained on you.

It was strange how one little interaction had stayed with him like that. How a single conversation about weather and flowers that hadn't even lasted five minutes replayed in his head for the entire rest of the day and only ended when he finally fell asleep that night, just to end up replaying in his head again the morning after.

He had accepted that the meeting between you two was fate the day after that and that the two of you were meant to be together. Why else would he be thinking of you so often? Why else would you have spoken with him like that? Why else had the elements themselves conspired to bring about a scenario where you were made to interact with one another?

It was the only explanation that made any sense.

Luck had been on his side when he remembered the flower shop he saw you walk out of – it was one that was under the troupe's protection, and for that reason, the owner had no choice but to allow Nobu to look through the shop's recent orders when he went in for a surprise 'visit'.

Luck was on his side again as it turned out you had called the shop to place the order for the spider lilies, giving them your name and phone number that they had yet to clear from their records.

It was incredibly easy to find you after that.

Back to the present, Nobu sighed to himself as he thought over what had happened after he'd found where you lived and how you'd become increasingly defensive every time he spoke with you. Maybe he'd come on too hard those other times. And now this, having no other option than to take you to the Nitery just to ensure your safety when you made it clear that you didn't want to go.

Nobunaga had no doubt that it would be a long, strenuous process for you, to accept your place as his darling and to learn to love him back, but even if that process took forever, you would give in.

You were meant to.

Several minutes had passed, and you still hadn't left the bathroom. He wasn't worried that you had managed to escape through there; that room had no windows, and the air vents were far too small for anyone to fit through.

Still, at a certain point he needed to make sure you were alright.

Getting up and standing before the closed door, he knocked on it gently as he called out your name.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

No answer.

His brows furrowed, and he took the knob in hand and turned it.

He found you in the shower, curled up in a corner of the stall and your head resting against your knees as you were fast asleep.

You must have been truly exhausted to have fallen asleep in such a place.

Nobunaga gingerly picked you up and carried you bridal style out of the bathroom. Though he had spent several hours with you in his arms, there was something about how you were so docile right now, not fighting against him and even pressing yourself further against him in your sleep. A shame that it was only because you weren't awake at the moment. But someday, he told himself, he would get to the point where you would long to be in his arms, where you would beg for his touch and for him to give you everything he had to give.

Not tonight. Or anytime soon.

But maybe in a matter of months he could get you to that point.

He placed you on his bed, putting the covers over you after. Tomorrow he'd have some of his lackeys accompany him to your old apartment and gather up some of your clothing and other items that you might miss. For tonight, though, you'd need to make due with sleeping in your clothes.

And what he'd need to make due with tonight was sleeping on the couch. As much as he wanted to go to sleep with you in his embrace, you'd be upset in the morning if that was what you woke up to.

Eventually he'd get to that point without you being disgusted with him, he told himself as he turned off the light of the bedroom, leaving you sleeping peacefully in the dark.

Now alone in the main area of his quarters, Nobunaga was about to turn off the lights and pass out on the couch – it was horribly late by now.

But just as he went to flick the light switch, he caught sight of the broken vase and flowers that still hadn't been cleaned up, and he sighed to himself again. Better to clean it up now so he wouldn't have the hassle of doing that the next day as well.

Pulling over a small trash bin, he began to collect the pieces of vase and tossed them in before going to the flowers. It felt like a shame to throw them away, especially since you liked them. Though it really was your fault for smacking them like you did.

Nobunaga looked at the flower he currently held; the stem was bent and some of the petals had fallen off.

Death, bad luck and abandonment, he remembered. Just a few of the meanings this flower had.

You'd met him when you were carrying a bouquet of these, and you saw the red spider lily again when you were brought to his room at the Nitery.

Maybe you were reconsidering how much you liked them and how much bad luck they had brought you so far.

That fleeting thought caught him off-guard, and he froze, broken flower still in hand.

…..

… Superstition was silly, he told himself as he continued with the clean up.

If anything, these flowers represented good luck for him, because if it hadn't been for you going to that flower shop on that day to collect them, he might not have found you.

It was pure chance and good luck that brought the two of you together, and while Nobunaga knew you didn't see it that way now, eventually you'd stop lying to yourself and admit that it was true: you were meant to be together.

But until that day came, he'd be patient with you and do whatever he could so you would understand that. Happiness for the two of you would come eventually when you gave in.

You were meant to, Nobunaga repeated to himself.

[matrixbearer2024]

Since the poll is practically over and the outfit's largely been decided, I'll be dropping the first post to the strip challenge in a couple hours on my Ford Blog @gftimelord to christen it HAHAHHA- (psst go bother him it'll be funny HAHHAHAH) Thanks for the interaction everybody, I only hope to deliver. Here's the first drabble to start it off with since I am pairing every drawing with a story sequence as promised. You could probably think of this as my interpretation for some kind of continuation to Ford's route in "Swooning Over Stans" by @gfdatingsim since I've genuinely been non-stop playing that game since it's recommendation to me. I will balance med proper and my delulu if it's the last thing I do HAHAHAHA-

Reply to this post as well if you want to be pinged for whenever this challenge updates!

I Accept Your Challenge!

(Stanford Pines x Reader)

After you heard a new challenge becoming trendy among couples you decide to try it on a certain Stanford Pines; just... you didn't exactly explain to him what the challenge was.

Maybe his competitiveness was a good thing in this case. You at least got a bloody good show out of his cluelessness.

Another slow summer day and you were in the living room of the mystery shack alongside the Pines as they went about doing whatever. Navigating your relationship with a certain scientist definitely somewhat of a learning curve but you digressed. Similar to Dipper and Mabel, you'd receive post cards from the twins about their seafaring adventures; your mail just came with additional special letters from your beloved. All of which you'd neatly stowed away in a bag that you always had with you, no use keeping it at home when you were rarely there.

Often traveling for a nomadic lifestyle was serene and fun at times, but you found yourself missing this place. It felt more like a home to you than your own place did in the couple weeks you'd stuck around after your car got smashed into the side of the log cabin.

Who knew that the same man who totaled your car one day would be the same adorable nerd you now called your lover?

It felt a bit like those romance dramas Stan liked to watch but you quickly dismissed that thought. Fairytales weren't real, fate isn't exactly something you believed in either. Stories of princesses finding their prince charmings were mostly smoke and mirrors, things you'd tell a child to give them hope of a better world than reality.

In gravity falls however... you quickly learned that nothing was truly impossible. Never say never in this small town of Oregon.

You sat on the floor next to Dipper and Mabel as they boredly flipped through TV channels; books, papers and crayons littered about around the three of you. The glass danced with colors from the rapidly flipping images while the twins struggled to find anything even remotely entertaining to watch, you couldn't help but allow your mind to wander from the boredom.

You and Ford spent quite a bit of time since you'd arrived at the beginning of the week, frankly you'd made the trip as soon possible when Stan shot you a message that they'd finally docked to spend the summer with the kiddos. You hoped it wasn't all that obvious how much you missed Stanford, but you didn't really need to worry when he was the one who immediately swamped you up in a hug the second you were out of your car. It's only been two years thus far since you've known the man but Stanley and Mabel insisted that you stay with him in his room, you didn't know why they were so adamant until you saw the state of the man's living quarters.

A whole day was spent with the both of you furnishing and cleaning the said room because of that but neither of you complained, most of the time was spent goofing off anyway.

Now... you were wondering where Ford was, not to mention what he was doing. Was he down in the lab tinkering again? You didn't want to disturb him, but you really wanted to find him. Any time spent apart didn't feel like time used to it's full capacity, even if you did enjoy the company of the other Pines; it just wasn't the same.

At some point, you were bored enough to not necessarily care whether you'd be disturbing Ford's work or not when you went down to the lab. It was just last summer when he taught you how to get down there, as well as spilling more about his past. All of which you simply listened to unless he asked anything; it was better to listen and attempt to understand than say or do something that would make it worse.

Seems like he really wanted to get it off his chest too, be transparent with you; something you appreciated.

You were shaken out of your headspace when you heard the rustling of boxes from the lab, as well as some hushed but frustrated cursing. You didn't really recall a time Ford swore unless he was legitimately ticked off, the man made a valiant effort not to compared to his twin.

But they both had sailor mouths anyhow even if it was fitting.

"Ford? Are you down here?"

"Ah-! [Y/N]! What- what are you doing down here?"

You moved closer to him in an attempt to see what he was doing, even if the man looked a bit rattled to be found like this by you.

"What are you doing?"

"I asked first my dear."

Ford chuckled, shifting to hide something behind his back. You pouted at him and crossed your arms. He couldn't help but smile at how cute you looked doing that.

"Was looking for you, Dipper and Mabel are bored watching TV upstair anyway... sooooo- what are you doing?"

You smiled when Ford returned your inquisitiveness with a small laugh, showing you what he held in his hand. A pair of goggles?

"What's that for?"

"I was attempting to sort through which of my belongings I could still use among the ones I wish to discard. Inadvertently I ended up finding these, I think I could still make use of them."

You tilted your head at him as a silent prompt to continue, it took every bit of control from Ford not to laugh again. You looked like a curious puppy, though he figured he shouldn't say that outright.

"It's simply among the items I collected and kept with me through my time in the multiverse. Protective eyewear can be useful for many things."

"Huh, if you have that— does it mean you still have the rest of the outfit?"

Now it was your turn to think Ford was being cute, he just wordlessly blinked at you in surprise. Was your request really that odd? You'd barely seen him in any other outfit combinations, of course you'd be curious.

"I—... I think I do? Why do you ask?"

"Do you think you'd still be able to rock it like you used to?"

"'Used to'? Excuse me?"

"I mean, it's been a couple years... why don't you try it on again?"

Ford laughed once again from your teasing, the way you sassily tried to goad him on was entertaining in it's own right. He was a bit on the fence about the whole outfit however, especially due to the memories associated with it.

It's not that bad compared to some things he'd found though... maybe he could indulge you.

"Hm..."

"I-I mean, if you really don't want to—"

Your panicked stammering was cut short when a warm palm cupped your cheek, meeting Stanford's eyes as he pressed a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. He could feel your skin heat in up in his hand, hiding a cheeky smile in your hair as he held you there.

"I'll show it to you... as soon as I can find the rest of the outfit."

Ford couldn't help but smile wider when your cheerful laugh rang out; it's the best sound to ever have graced his ears in the time he's been alive. A bit surprising given how many things he's been exposed to, but he couldn't name another chime so pleasant.

"I'll hold you to that Ford."

"And I accept your challenge my dear."

YEAAAAH HERE IT ISSSS- TEXT THING CUZ WE NEED INTRODUCTION-