#i get it it's frustrating when people ignore you for the sake of comfort

[laconic-nightmares]

putting 'if you can't reblog this unfollow me right now' in your posts is a great way to lose followers with OCD and prove literally nothing about whatever point you were trying to make in the mean time 🙃

[d1s1ntegrated]

I just read your shigaraki fic with him stealing readers clothes and

First: loved it he’s such a little freak and I love him

Second: part 2? Maybe where reader goes into his rooms well he’s doing his thing with our clothes and gets caught red handed and just pretty much braces down and reader doms him or something I don’t know I just think a part 2 where reader walks in on him doing it would be fun

I’m sorry if this is against any rules you have you can ignore if you want

Im just an idiot 🙃 ok goodbye

shhhhh ur not an idiot and this is hot af so YASS

laundry pile (nsfw)

tomura x fem!reader

tags: stealing clothes, masturbation, stalker behavior, heavy petting, dacryphilia, p/v pen, swearing, degradation, dom/sub dynamic implied, fem reader, hardcore smut, light comfort, sub/switch! tomura, humiliation, oral (m&f rec)

A/N: i'm getting caught up on my asks finally 🫶 so sorry for the weird inactivity i love u all! also this isn't proofread sorry ill prob edit it later lol!

"For fucks sake" you threw your door open in frustration, storming down the hall to Shigaraki's room. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the worst. You didn't really want to ask him of all people, but you were desperate and flustered now.

You knock gently, and before hearing him respond, you turn the handle.

"Hey, Shigaraki, have you seen my-" You open the door of Tomura's room prematurely, the light knocking not alerting him fast enough as he scrambles to yank his covers over him.

"SHIT, fucking, GET THE FUCK OUT," the man's voice heightens in pitch with every word, straining to speak. He's gripping his blanket with four white knuckles, ring finger held above the blue fabric. His hands shake and beads of sweat are flattening his fringe to his forehead, and his breathing even from the doorway looks erratic. It's no mistake, you walked in at the wrong time. Your jaw hangs open slightly at the image of him and begin backing up slightly.

"I'm sorry, I'll...well, while I'm here," you start with a sheepish smile, "have you seen my black sweater? The one with the..." Your fingers twiddle around as you describe the well-loved garment, and he groans.

"...No," he wipes his hair from his face, "Go ask the girls."

"Sorry. Yeah, I'll do that." You reach for the door handle with a curt nod, and turn to head out, when something catches your eye. On the floor, next to a pile of used towels and dirty laundry, you notice the familiar lace trim, a delicate pink bow...

You reach for the piece as Tomura shoots up on his bed, still covering himself. "What are you doing??" His voice is anxious, and as you come back up, you hang the fabric delicately between your fingers in front of him.

"Are these my fucking underwear?" With a fire hot enough to burn his room to the ground, you storm closer to him, standing over him now with fierce eyes, able to really take in the sight of him now. His eyes are heavier than usual, his back flexed and his arms tense against his chest as he plasters the sheet against his snowy skin. He looks up at you with a feverish glint, avoiding contact with the skimpy bottoms hanging in front of his face. He shakes his head, unable to speak.

The sheet leaves little to the imagination, as you look him up and down in his bed. You bite back your rage as you notice a strap peeking out from under one of his pillows, and you shove him back and lean over to yank it out from underneath. Your pink bralette, that you could've sworn you lost for good, was now in your hands, waving dangerously close to Tomura. With wide eyes, he gives the equivalent look to a dog who got caught with a slipper. Cowering was a new look for him. As you stare him down, you notice the sheet twitching, an unmistakable silent pleading. Your face, now mere inches above his, sends his heart sprinting out of his body.

If it weren't for your discovery, it would've been almost...charming, to see him like this. Lips pink and puffy, as if they'd been bitten raw, and the remarkable sheen of sweat and lust glazing his scarred face. A heavy breath, halfway to climax and halfway to anxiety attack. You couldn't tell if he was turned on or terrified at this point. Your mind preferred the latter, but somewhere deep inside, you liked the idea of the former.

There was also something already charming about his actions. Your clothes were scattered all around him, around his room. Part of you felt enthralled by the idea of your fearsome leader, your boss, the dangerous villain doing something as depraved and perverted as stealing your clothes. Especially after all of the shit you guys fought about, how many times he told you to fuck off and that he couldn't stand you. It was like an unwritten confession, and it made your heart flutter for a moment. You stood there, thinking about what he was doing to them exactly, with a frivolous process. It didn't take much for your mind to conclude the thought, knowing you just caught him doing precisely what you could have imagined with them. It felt almost elementary to catch him in the act of something so vulgar, and despite your scornful expression, you had to fight the instinctual curling of your lips.

"What else do you have of mine?" You kept your face flat, curiosity driving you further. He shrank down a moment before raising a shaky arm towards his door.

"Close that, please" his brows furrowed as you both looked toward the wide-open door, giving whoever walked by a full view of the situation. You padded towards it and slammed it closed, locking it behind you before re-approaching him with the same fervor as before. You toss the two garments at him and ask him again.

"What else did you steal from me?"

He swallowed and took a deep breath before raising his hand up in defeat, "I'm sorry". His eyes glossed over as he looked away, blinking rapidly. He lifted the pillow behind him and began removing things from the pile of things. Multiple pairs of underwear, two bras, three shirts, a pair of lounge shorts, and a few random socks. Your jaw dropped as he handed them to you, sniffling with embarrassment and disturbance. You shook your head slowly, partially in awe and disbelief. How did he even manage...and why? How long had he been doing it for? Your mind raced as you compiled everything at the edge of his bed. He sat there dejected as you counted everything.

"Fourteen. FOURTEEN things of mine. Just under your pillow. What, why?? Where else do you hide it all? Is this where all my clothes have gone?" Your voice rises in frustration and confusion as he falters.

He shakes his head and quavers, with the smallest voice you've ever heard from him.

"I don't know. I'm sorry". He shows remorse, no doubt. But the movement underneath the thin sheet doesn't help to convince you of his guilt. Some part of him likes the fact he was caught, surely. It's easy to see it, with the faint flush of his complexion.

You lean down more and lift his face with a finger on his chin, directing his eyes to meet yours. You don't say anything, which scares him more than anything. At any point, you could run out of his room, screaming about how he was a freak, or a coward, or a stalker. Even him, your notorious leader, was scared of being exposed so viscerally. You recognize this, his crimson eyes welling with shameful tears as you look into them.

You wanted to be so angry. You wanted to be disgusted, freaked out, and you wanted to hate him. You could let him being murderous slide, but being a loser? It boiled your blood. But you couldn't tear yourself away from his wet gaze, the tears falling heavily now as you gripped his chin between thumb and forefinger. He didn't pull away, either, he just accepted his loss. There were so many reasons why you should hate him.

But you don't, you realize, as you lean in and pull him into a hungry kiss. His lips are rough, but wet with tears as you press yours into them. Maybe it was pity, maybe it's because you know he's pent up and stressed out and most certainly a virgin. It's possible he just needs comfort. Perhaps you're encouraging him, and for all you know, maybe you like that.

You stop yourself from thinking and just let your body move. You push him back, taking his hands away from the iron grip on the sheets and lifting them above his head. He doesn't argue, and complacently loosens his body with a light whimper as you touch him. You climb onto his lap, still pinning his arms down as you snake your tongue into his mouth. He tastes so sweet, so addicting. It was unlike anything you could describe, like apple and spices and sweet mint. You cave in to him, allowing yourself to feel the rush of endorphins swell in your core. Your mind goes blank as you feel his length between your legs, twitching and jumping like an eager animal.

You finally pull away from the kiss, only to bite down his scarred neck and shoulder.

"You're a fucking thief" you say between bites, and he whimpers.

"I know" he shakes as you sink your teeth in. He groans out as you bite down harder at his response.

"You're a fucking freak" you spit. He nods, trembling.

"I'm sorry" he cries out as you sink your canines into him.

"You like that, hm? You like being a sick fuck?" you tighten your grip on his wrists.

His whimpers and moans drive you crazy. You fight the urge to take him all at once, even if it tortures you as well. Your lips curl sadistically as you lick his wounds, tongue grazing over not only the bites, but the torn skin of his neck from his incessant scratching. The faint taste of blood stings in your mouth, the metallic fragrance soaking your senses. You feel your core liquify as tears spill from his eyes, the thick lashes sticking together. He sobs, clenching his jaw.

"Please, I can't take it". His heavy breaths buckle in his chest, and you bring your free hand up to caress his face.

"You're so pretty like this, Tomura" your voice is slick with hunger, a newfound lust from hearing his pathetic noises. He blinks up at you in a daze, his pupils blown wide as you release your grip on his wrists.

"Please" he whispers, and you laugh.

"Please what? You seriously think you're getting rewarded? For being a fucking pervert?"

Tomura bites his lip and shakes his head.

"No, I'm sorry".

It was a sight to behold. Your fearsome leader, now crumbling beneath you, begging to be touched. Pleading for forgiveness, admitting fault with fat tears soaking his cheeks. Everything you swore he would never be capable of, he was doing. And it made you feel so powerful. It was well overdue- someone eventually would've put him in his place- you just never thought it'd be you to do it.

You retreat from his lap, standing swiftly. You watch his face fall a bit, then relight as you slide your top and bottoms off, leaving you standing nearly naked in front of him. His eyes soak in the image of you, his hands clenching. You reach for the sheet and yank it off of him, finally, to expose his naked body completely.

His cock stands proud, already leaking and throbbing as you grab it. He gasps, the air hitching in his chest as your thumb slides down the tip, admiring his length as you squeeze it gently.

"You're such a desperate little bitch," you start demeaning him further, fingers trailing to wrap around his balls. He mewls as you continue, "I always knew you were a pathetic loser".

His cock convulses as you speak, and you lose you patience. You take him in your mouth, pressing your tongue flatly against the thickness. You graze your teeth against the sensitive skin, and he hisses out a string of curses. You speed up, fingers still teasing him with lazy tugs. You reach underneath and press two fingers against the untouched skin, massaging it gently. The action causes him to clench his fists mindlessly against the sheets, and they immediately disintegrate into nothingness. He grumbles out a "Fuck", but is swiftly redirected back to the multitude of sensations below. You laugh, his thick cock still in your mouth, and he throws his head back. He begins mindlessly thrusting into your throat, causing you to choke a bit on the size of him. He spreads his legs open further as you massage the neglected spot, clearly enjoying the newly discovered sensitivity.

Before he can finish, and god is he dangerously close to doing so, you pull off of him. He groans and silently begs for more, but you shake your head and get back on top of him.

"You think I'm doing this for your enjoyment? You owe me, not the other way around." you spew out. "It's my turn, loser."

He doesn't have time to argue it as you slide your underwear off and bring yourself to his face. You speak, knowing his can't respond, enjoying his compliance. "Have you ever done this before? No? Hm..." You chuckle out sinfully as his mouth falls wide, dragging his tongue up your dripping cunt to your clit. "Do a good job, and maybe then I'll let you have more."

He's clearly inexperienced, the way his tongue explores your folds and curves, but he's starving regardless. He presses his tongue deeply into you, moaning at the taste as you grind against his mouth. He gains confidence as he grips your hips with a four-fingered grip, keeping his pinkies as far as anatomically possible from your soft skin. He kneads his slender fingers into the fat of your hips and ass, his nails digging in as his tongue picks up speed. After a minute or two adjusting, he's eating you like a dog, licking and sucking and nipping at everything he can, with a determination previously unseen. It feels unforgettable, the way his teeth graze your clit and his tongue licks at you like you're candy. The poor depraved man laying under you, finally graced with the taste of you he's only ever had in dreams. You tasted much better than the underwear he stole. It felt holy now, so dirty and urgent that it felt like prayer.

You can't avoid the hastily approaching orgasm as he flicks his tongue on the throbbing bundle of nerves. You grind down on his face, coating his mouth and chin with your heat as he sends you over the edge. You drive your hips down, nearly suffocating him, as you clench and shiver on his face. You can feel him panting and smiling and swallowing every drop of your climax thankfully, which sends you even further.

When you finally come crashing down, you pull off of him and slide back down his chest and position him right in front of your needy hole. But you can't give into him just yet. It's his punishment, not reward, to fuck you and please you and make you cum.

He looks positively elated, his pupils still swallowing his ruby irises and his hair tangled around his pretty face. He's smiling, with a tired breath, but he's nowhere near done. He's completely aware of his consequences.

"Good boy, Tomu" you praise him with a gentle kiss on the cheek, his face still soaked from you. He smiles a bit more, but is still silent as you continue, "I almost forgive you for being such a disgusting slut".

He nods and silently mouths out an "okay". You trail a finger up his jaw and press a kiss to it. But his response isn't enough for you. You want more, you want to press the subject deeper before allowing him to have something so sacred.

"Tell me, pretty freak; why did you steal my clothes?"

He takes a moment to bite his lip, looking away as he responds. "I like to".

Not good enough. "And?" you pry.

"It...feels good. To smell you. And taste you. It feels so good..." he bleats out pitifully, and you can't help but feel a little bit enamored at his answer.

"Yeah? Was it worth it?" You tilt your head slightly, loving his plaintive admissions.

He nods and smiles, "Definitely".

Tomura's slight defiance stirs something inside of you. At the end of the day, he always gets what he wants. And if he wanted to steal your clothes, soil them with a weeks worth of cum, he fucking would. He did. He wasn't an entirely too demanding person, but he was, at his core, determined to have everything he wants. Including you, in every way he can.

You can't wait any longer as you take his length inside of you. You gasp out a bit at the size, feeling it stretch your walls with a burning sensation. He immediately moans out, unable to even slightly quiet down as he feels how wet you are around him.

"You're so fucking tight," he cries, and you clench around him, causing him to spasm a bit. His eyes roll back and he begins thrusting into you from below, the friction driving you crazy. "You feel just like I imagined" he confesses, words heavy with desire.

You grind into him as he thrusts, both rutting against each other fervidly. The tuft of baby blue hair drags a bit against your clit and you can't help as his name spills from your lips like honey.

"Fuck, Tomura, you're so big" you lewdly cry out as he grips you again. His cock slams against your cervix, sliding in and out of your entrance rapidly. His moans and whimpers become intangible, a never-ending slew of crude noises just leaking from his pretty pink lips. You nearly forget being angry, you throw your inhibitions to the side, because it feels far too good to not focus on entirely. The way he whines and keens melts you like the sun.

You both get closer with each frantic thrust. Months of pining and pretending to hate each other paid off well enough, because the feeling of his cock inside of you, plowing you filthily, locked in the satisfaction of meeting him in the first place.

"And I thought you hated my guts" you moan out as he slams into you, folding a bit. He wraps his arms around you and you tuck your head into his neck as he takes complete control from beneath.

"No, I just, fuck, couldn't stand not having this" he breathes out, his hold on you intensifying. "I want you".

His speed shakes your mind, leaving you fuzzy as you reach your final breaking point. He's close behind, his thrusts becoming less coordinated as he moans out your name like a broken record.

"Tomura, I-"

He cuts you off with a whine, "Please, let me cum inside of you". You completely shatter around him, the heat inside of you finally snapping in half as you grind into him mindlessly, the sensation of your orgasm tearing through you like a full moon's tide. You cry and gasp out into his ear, and he decides he can't wait anymore. He spills into you with a howl, twitching and sputtering as he finally fills you up. The pearly strings coat your sore insides, gumming you up. He sinks his teeth down into your neck as he ruts into you, pumping his seed deeper inside as he rides out his orgasm. You feel the suffocating wave of euphoria wash over you, unable to form a coherent thought as he pulls out slowly.

He lolls his head back and keeps you wrapped in his arms, unwilling to release you.

"I'm sorry" he finally speaks. The silence in the room dissipates with his raspy voice, and you nod.

"Do you at least wash them when you're done?" You ask, and he nods back.

"I return them when you aren't there.." he admits.

"Okay" you don't have the energy or even the space inside of you to actually be mad. If anything, you were more upset before cause for the most part, you were missing a lot of your favorite pairs of underwear, and you thought you were losing your mind.

"I promise I'll stop" he whispers into your hair, "I'm sorry".

You shake your head against his chest. "Don't. It gives me an excuse to come back in here and do this again".

His heartbeat speeds a bit as he processes your words. A part of him wants to tell you you don't need an excuse. But the other part of him wants you to keep catching him. The chase, the raw desire, he'd been playing the long game, and you fell right for it. His silly little game he'd been playing worked out perfectly in his favor, and he relished in that fact.

He doesn't respond. You close your eyes on his chest, and he pulls up the other blanket that was unscathed from his torrential grip. He smiles to himself as you slowly fall asleep on him, your breathing slowing. Lying there with you, he finally felt content and full for once, and that scared him. But he laid there still, soaking in the feeling of completing his goal.

But he no longer wanted to play this game. He wanted to win it.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Northern attitude

Previous chapter

a/n I welcome you to the second part for more Sugar and Ghost. Did I have a right to form attachment to these two in two chapters? No. But here I am. Enjoy.

summary: mission gone bad, feels a little like enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort sort of goodness.

warnings: blood, wounds, needles, death, hospitals, IV's, vomiting, trauma... I think that's all...

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"Keep the chest compressions going", the female voice filled the space that now seemed as buzzing as the actual hospital room. Not that any of them truly had been in the midst of it all. But army hospitals, especially while on the move, could and did get chaotic at times. "You'll need another shot of adrenaline", a calm and collected tone instructed. Gaz looked into Soap's eyes, who has been ramming at your heart for some time now. The two males nodded at one another. "Coming in 3 2 1", Gaz called out as they switched for only a heartbeat or two. Soap's hand left your chest, while Gaz aimed the needle right toward your left shoulder.

Simon felt as if he was in a daze. In one of his nightmares, maybe. Yeah, maybe that's what it was. One of his nightmares where he was aware that he was in his mind traps. Yet he didn't recall what had happened after he started shaking your body. Who pulled you out of his arms? Who pushed him to the side?

"Go back to stimulating the heart, Johnny. Hum, while you're at it", Ghost knew that voice now that his brain had granted him a moment of clarity. Eleanor Price's wife was a medic and a woman not ready to give up on her adoptive daughter. Desperate and ready to do anything. Make the four basic medical knowledge-baring males do everything they can so her baby girl will come back home. Come home, but not in a casket. Simon had no clue who even dialed her number. The phone was used for emergencies only. They were strictly advised not to use it until it was a life-or-death situation. The call had to be directed straight to the base. Eleanor wasn't at the base. But somehow, that made Simon calmer. He was happier that it was her and not some careless idiot in charge.

"You need to start the drip", another desperate order filled the space. "I can't, El,", Price said, running a hand through his face in frustration. "John, for fuck sake, you've done it before. Put it in her hand, the palm; don't go full vein, but do it damit", that was the first time Simon caught onto her voice, quivering. For a split second, her cool doctor mask had slipped, making Price clench his jaw so tight that his voice was barely a groan. "Eleanor", he breathed. "Keep humming, Soap," she barked at the man now responsible for pumping your heart, ignoring her husband. And Soap did. His humming grew louder. I got a pocket—a pocket full of sunshine echoing from the walls, accompanied by his thick Scottish accent—now that he too was under lots of stress.

Gaz ran back into the main room with the pouch full of liquid. "Got it", he said breathlessly. "Good, you see that there are two different colored liquids?", Gaz nodded too overstimulated to realize that Eleanor could not see him. "There is", Price said for him. "Good, bend it. It needs to mix, then start the drip, or so help me, God, I will never forgive you, John".

Maybe not a nightmare. Maybe a bad movie. One Ghost hoped he would forget eventually. He just sat there. While everything buzzed around him. For the very first time, he felt helpless. That was a lie. He had only felt helpless that night. The night when all of the people he loved got slaughtered. The night he was forced to lock the last bits of his humanity away. To promise himself that no one would ever get close to him. He would not make friends. He would never fall in love. But here he was. Your blood was still all over him. Simon's hands were tinted. Permanently tinted. It felt almost like an out-of-body experience. He knew this was happening, but a part of him kept on screaming that this was not real and couldn't be. That fate wouldn't be so cruel. Yes, Ghost wasn't a good man, but selfishly, he was sure that after all that he had been through, his debts had to be paid off by now.

Ghost didn't know why, but his brain took him back to the base. The room you two shared. Did he hate it at first? Yes. But you brought peace. You brought life. His room was bland and colorless. Now, with your posters and books, plants, and fucking throw blankets, it felt like living there was intensional. Like you, and only you had to return there. And that was important to Simon. He cared about it. Cared about you even if his snarling demeanor wouldn't let it show.

There were nights when he would find you passed out with your book in your hands. The hardcover digging into your neck. It was not enough to hurt, but it sure had to be uncomfortable. Simon had stood there for a solid ten minutes, the first time it had happened, just watching your slumbering frame. He turned around and went about his nightly routine. He had gone and laid down in his bed. But only a handful of moments later, he was out, crossing the white line. He had gently pulled the book from your skin, using your pen to mark the page you were on. Pulling the blanket over your shoulders because the base got rather cold at night. He told himself that he couldn't allow a soldier on his team to get sick because manpower was crucial, but deep down, he knew that any other lad could be freezing his balls off for all he cared. It was you. You were the main factor in this equation. There was something even back then that didn't sit well with him when it came to you not being well.

"It's bleeding, Eleanor", John's desperate voice filled Ghost's mind, and it was like his systems had been restarted. His eyes darted toward the table. Onto John's slumped shoulders as he fidgeted with the needle. Simon jumped up. He rounded the table to push John's hand off as he reached for the tape, repositioning the very tip of the needle before securing it in place. "You need to keep it stable", Eleanor's voice rang out. "Simon just did it", John breathed out. The room stilled for a moment. They were running out of things they could do to keep you alive. To keep you with them. Ghost held onto your hand. He hoped that everyone would take it as just him making sure that your skin wasn't puffing up, indicating that the incision was done incorrectly. And none of the men, sweaty and mentally exhausted, would have said anything. But Eleanor did.

"Simon, you're okay, sweetheart?", It was so soft. Too soft. She should be yelling. Simon was responsible for what had happened here. Maybe even more, because he should have ripped all the doors that separated him from you. Should not have followed everyone into the safe house. "She will fight; you know it; you stay strong for her. She needs you", Ghost bit onto his cheeks, feeling the taste of iron filling his mouth. He had met Eleanor a couple of times. The woman was an angel. How John had landed her was beyond him, but she was exactly what you had been for the team. A breath of fresh air. Some days when everyone was off duty, she would ring up everyone, inviting them for a barbecue at her and Price's shared home. "Positive", Ghost breathed out, yanking the wall of steel back up. He couldn't let himself feel it. Not here. Not now.

"Her chest", Soap's two words were enough to shift the focus back to the table. His big eyes looked between the rest of his team and the women on the living room table. "Soap", Eleanor's voice carried both worry and hope. "It's moving, she's...", Johnny's voice died down, only to be overshadowed by Eleanor's once more, "Count her pulse for me; tell me if it's steady enough". No one breathed for a moment, as if afraid to chase it away. As if they inhaled too much oxygen themselves, there would not be enough for you. A minute passed. Two. Three.

"Yeah", Johnny breathed, "It's steady. Weak but... but...", a sob slipped past his lips, followed by a cry from Eleanor. Gaz sank to his knees, his chest heavy, as he tried to catch his breath. John moved past them all, rushing towards the side door. But the distance between him and the room wasn't big enough for the rest of them to not hear him heaving. "Fucking hell, Bonnie, you just took ten years of my life", Soap carefully ran his hand over your leg, his head falling back as the quiet tears continued to flow. "Keep a watch on her for me, boys", Eleanor sniffled from the other side. Simon leaned over. His face pressed into your side as he tried to keep his tears at bay. Not even for a moment letting go of your hand.

That was three weeks ago. They had managed to keep you alive for two days in that house. Two days. Finally, transportation from the base was provided to get all of them out of there. The doctors had told them straight to the face that what they had been doing was God's work. They were the reason you were still breathing. But even under the unfaltering gaze of the base doctors, Ghost still couldn't shake the feeling of you slipping away.

Simon was down in the medical wing every day. Some days, he stood for hours in the corner of the room. Some days, he pulled himself a chair and sat by your side. It was the nights that were the hardest, though. Because now all Ghost saw was you. All he felt was a lack of your presence. If he did manage to slip into a restless sleep, he would be up in no time. Sweaty and panting. He would reach for his hoodie as he moved through the quiet hallways to get to you.

"Debrief starts at five", Soap's head popped into the hospital room. Making Ghost stutter on the last words that he was reading as he slowly lowered one of your books to his lap. Most of his mornings looked the same. Quick shower. Breakfast if he was up for it. Your hospital room. Training. Back to your hospital room. Days when he had to be in meetings or debriefs were the ones he hated the most. That meant he had to be away from you for longer than he was willing. "Copy", he said sternly, eager to at least finish the page he was on. And even more so, hoping that Soap would go away. Simon had nothing against the guy. Out of everyone, he liked Johnny the most. The two had a similar sense of humor, and working together never felt like a never-ending nightmare. Just the Scot talked a lot. At times, it was fun, and Simon's ever-running brain benefited from it. But there were times, like now, when he wished that the man would get the message and go his own way. "Ain't my place to say this, but...", the door cracked open a bit more, "I'm sure that she loves that you're here", Simon was so glad that his back was turned to Soap because he was sure that he would be able to see his face falter. Fingers grinning at the book just a bit tighter. "Copy, Soap, you can go", Ghost's tone was more than unamused. He didn't want to break in front of any of them. The safe house had already been a dead giveaway of how Simon felt when it came to you. And he didn't want anyone to know anything else. "And she...", Soap started once more, but Ghost just lifted his hand up, making all sounds die down. "Copy", Simon said thickly through his teeth. He knew that it was selfish to push everyone away like that. You two were also friends. Close ones at that. Simon knew that Soap loved you. He had a front-row ticket to watch that after the mission went south. But he just couldn't. Couldn't do it now. When the door quietly kicked shut, Simon let out a sigh, his eyes darting towards the clock on the wall. He had to go, even if he didn't want to.

"I'll be back", he muttered softly, placing the book on the little table by your bed. "Will finish reading that book for you later", Ghost reached his hand out, softly running his fingers over your forehead, lingering touches stretching out for longer than they should. "You sleep well, Sugar", he breathed out, leaning in to place a kiss on the side of your head and stilling right beside you as he let himself listen to the sound of your breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. And he was pulling away, running a hand through his face before he walked out of the room.

Ghost barely said a word in the debrief. When Kate asked for his input, the man shrugged his shoulders and said, "You read my report; you know my thoughts". Was the upper management getting fed up with him at this point? Most definitely. Yet no one managed to put the lack of everyone's involvement against them. Most of the base had been rather quiet when they wheeled you through the corridors, almost lifeless. And yes, the key thing was not to get emotionally attached. Teammates came and went, but everyone knew just as well how tight everyone in this group was. Or came to realize that with the four men following the doctors in one quick stride.

"Ghost", Price's voice yanked Simon back to the meeting room. An almost empty meeting room at that. "A word alone in my office", the captain said, only waiting for a head nod before walking away. Simon followed suit. He knew there was no other option. "Eleanor said you didn't call her back", John mused, reaching for the lighter as he puffed out smoke. Ghost's face stayed blank as he muttered, "I didn't see the call". That was a lie. He did. And there was more than one. Simon just couldn't pick up. The same way he couldn't watch the way Price's wife had sobbed in her husband's chest when they had just returned. The guilt was too much. The sight of her sobbing only made Simon think that it was over. An hour. Maybe two. And your body will be in the bag. Stored away in the cold room.

"Simon", John snapped his hand in front of Ghost's eyes, making the male blink a couple of times. "Is that all, sir?", his voice was grim. Even Simon was struggling to recognize himself. John frowned, "Don't you sir me, boy", a warning finger was jabbed into Simon's chest. A moment of silence. A deep exhale. "Her vitals are getting better. She will pull through", Price said softly, clapping Ghost's shoulders, but the man simply shook his head and said, "You don't know that". And it's like that's all Price needed to realize where the stem of all of this denial was rooted. "I called the shots there. It's on me, not you", the captain said firmly, that same warning finger now pointing directly at his chest. Neither of them said anything else afterward. They just stood there. Eyes burning into each other.

Price's eyes narrowed for a moment before he muttered, "Do you like her? My, Sug, do you like her?", the question threw Simon off the hilt. He didn't expect it here. Now. It wasn't supposed to be discussed here. Like that. And my Sug... Fucking hell. It was his captain's daughter Simon was falling for. Biological or not, she was still a daughter. And for the first time, did he realize how much shit this could bring you both? Maybe it was one-sided even. But the way you held onto him. Your touch. Simon had never been touched so tenderly in his life. And what's more, for the very first time, he didn't want to pull away. "Because if you play...", Price's tone shifted completely as he spoke his words, and Ghost cut him off quickly, "Positive. I do... I like her". John simply nodded at his words, making Simom mimic his movements. The older male scratched his chin before waving Simon away, and he didn't waste a minute before turning away. He'll deal with the potential consequences later on.

Simon was almost out the door when a voice stopped him. "Simon", Price called out once more, making the soldier turn back, "I expect you to mow my lawn in the summer". A strange, warm sensation filled Simon's chest as he looked at the man in front of him, smiling as he puffed out another cloud of smoke. Ghost lets himself linger for a heartbeat more before he closes the door, heading towards the medical wing once more.

"I also overwatered your succulent", Simon said quietly as he looked out of the window in your room. The rest of the team had slowly turned the little, awfully sterol-looking room into a somewhat comfortable place. Or at least a place that screamed less about the inevitable outcome they all feared the most. A plush blanket. Some of your books. A night lamp in the shape of a duck. That was a gift from Soap. Was it slightly questionable? Yes. But everyone dealt with this in their own way, so if bringing you a light-up duck made Soap happy in some way, so will it be.

"I bought you a new one, but... still felt like you should know", Simon continued. He was doing this a lot. Way too much. Maybe? Ghost wasn't sure what was normal or not at this stage. Yet he couldn't help but feel that you would be sitting there with an eyebrow lifted at the number of words he was sharing. One thing everyone knew was that Ghost didn't speak unless it was necessary. Some called it arrogance. Others said that that was just his cold demeanor. The truth was, no one truly stopped to listen or cared for Simon for most of his life. So he got used to it. But talking to you, at least now, made him feel lighter. Besides the reading he did here, Simon also went over meetings with you. A part of him didn't want you to feel left out. Not that your unconscious body cared, but... if you could hear him. He wanted you to feel involved. Then there were an endless amount of stories about how and who had pissed him off that day.

"I...", Ghost's voice dies down as he turns back to face you. You looked like a doll laid neatly on the sheets. They have moved the IV out today. Nothing more but a heart monitor left running. Eleanor had no doubt been here while he was in the debrief because your hair had been brushed. Simon let out a sigh as he pulled a chair for himself, quickly shrugging off his gloves.

"You know, you caught my attention the moment I saw you", his hand hovered above yours for a moment. He didn't trust himself to touch you. What if he harmed you in some way? What if he triggered a negative reaction? "Fucking hell, did you keep us on your toes", Ghost shook his head, "I took it for granted. I'd do anything to see you striding past the main entrance once again". Simon let his head fall over your stomach. Oddly enough, that was the only time that his head seemed to work these days. Taking a deep breath, Simon let the feeling of your body slowly ground him. You're here. With him. He can hear your heart beating. Your body is no longer cold. You even have some of your color back. He can...

A sudden rustling of the sheets makes every single muscle in Simon's body seize. For a moment, he can't even hear his own heart as he stays as still as he can. One heartbeat. Another. Nothing. Devastation rushes through him. He had gotten so sensitive to the sounds in this room. A gentle hand caresses his scalp, and Simon jerks away.

Blinking rapidly, only to find your half-hooded eyes open. Looking right back at him. "No", Simon muttered, fully convinced that his lack of sleep had finally gotten the best of him. He doesn't move away, but he digs the back of his palm into his eyes. "Simon...", and it's barely a whisper. So weak still, but it's there, and... Simon's shoulders quiver. There's no sound. Not a single hick-up, but you know.

Every single part of your body feels as if it's on fire. The room is dim, but gods, it's still too bright for your sensitive eyes. Yet you can't take your eyes away from the man drowning in his own emotions right next to you. You carefully reach out for him, muscles soar from the lack of movement. Brushing your fingers through his hair. Scratching his scalp. You have no idea how long you've been out, but you've heard him talking. Soothing the anxiety of being trapped in nothing but darkness.

"Si", You breathe out once more, trying to tug at his wrist softly. Wanting nothing more than to see his eyes once again. Simon gives in instantly, the tears soaking his mask. You try to wipe some of them away, but his fingers wrap around your frail wrist. For a second, you are convinced that he will push you away, but he does quite the opposite. With both of his palms, Simon presses your hand into his cheek. Leaning into your touch.

"You died... I held you," he says through heavy breaths, pulling at your heart, "You... the blood". You shake your head slowly. "Look at me", you say softly, coughing slightly. At the feeling of your dry throat, Simon is out of the chair, lifting the water jug to pour you a glass before carefully cradling your head as he helps you take a couple of sips. That's enough to chase some of the big emotions away. Enough to give time for Ghost to pull the iron mask back on, but his eyes still glisten.

"I'm here, aren't I?", you whispered, "That pink rug was too appealing to give up", you joke slightly, and it's enough to make Ghost let out somewhat of a chuckle. "You don't have to die to buy a rug for our room", Simon says, head turning to look at the monitor as if waiting to see something that would still prove to him that this wasn't happening. "You look like shit, LT. Losing sleep over a girl doesn't look good on you", you mutter, and Simon lets out a dry huff. "Because I'm a decent bloke, I won't comment on how you look", you let out a gasp in return, and that nearly sent him flying off his chair because the man is on such high alert that anything rings danger bells in his head now. "I'm okay, just trying to be dramatic with you", you say, squeezing his hand softly, trying to get him to calm down once more. Silence falls. Not an uncomfortable one. One that fully captures the shared amount of words running through both of your minds.

"I heard you, you know? Kind of pissed that you think that Jack deserved to get his heart broken," Simon snorts, running his fingers through his hair. His shoulders droop. All of the adrenaline that's been keeping him upright is finally wearing off. Leaving him feeling heavy and weak. "Should I get the others? Price would...", Ghost breathed, turning to get up, but you grabbed onto his hand quickly. "I just want you right now", you muttered straight away, realizing how dumb and desperate that sounded, "If you don't mind".

Simon scoffed, "Sugar, I sat here for three weeks begging for all the holy things that you would pull through", You bit your lip at his words. You knew that he did. You felt him. Heard him. Smelled him. He had been your lifeline all this time. "If I could, I would pull rank to get myself off duty so I could sit here till you fully recover", Ghost says, rolling his eyes, now doubtful at everyone who has been up his ass for not attending every single meeting. You smile at him weakly, feeling the little bits of your energy slowly giving out. Yet you still muster what's left of it to move your head up so you could run your fingers beneath Simon's eyes, where the darkest tired bags screamed about the lack of sleep he was getting.

"Get in bed," You tap the side next to you softly. You have no idea how you both will fit here, but you can't watch him practically fall asleep by your side. He had already spent way too many nights in that tiny plastic chair. "Shouldn't we at least go on a date first?", Simon jokes, making your cheeks grow crimson, and you're convinced that they are a dead giveaway of how you are feeling. "Oh, fuck you...", you huff, trying to frown, but the smile that tugged at your lips was too strong. "Lay with me, so you could sleep. So we both could sleep", you say once more, not letting go of his hand. With the size of this man, the bed will get crampy. But you didn't care. You needed to feel him close. To just know that he was with you. Fully. As if reading your mind, Simon got up, climbing into the bed from your good side. Making sure your uninjured shoulder was pressed against him.

"Is this okay?", he said after a moment of you two moving around to find a comfortable position for the two of you. "You can wrap your hands around me; you don't have to lay there like a log", you chuckled, tugging at his sleeve and urging him to cling onto you the way you were clinging to him. Ghost chuckled softly, leaning in to kiss your head. Your hand instantly moves up to cradle the side of his masked face. The feeling of the soft material soothing to your senses. "I fucking missed you", Ghost breathed after a moment of silence. Fingers running up and down your back. You slowly peeled your eyes open, fighting the tiredness just for a heartbeat longer. Meeting his soft eyes as looked down at you. "I missed you too, Simon. Been missing you since the moment I saw you", you smiled softly, turning to press a loving kiss on his chest, right over his heart, before you lay your head back, listening to the steady drumming.

[seventeendeer]

sorry to keep bitching about frustrating rain world fandom trends, but I think if you read downpour as a pure "being alive is good, actually" metaphor with a weird dissonant twist at the end (saint's campaign), that ... reveals a shockingly surface-level reading of the story that ignores every interesting question the game poses in favor of trying to force a comfortable, one-note moral that only actually works if you ignore a significant amount of canon.

like, I'm sorry, but there's no way to in good faith pry a straight answer out of this story. I know fandom tumblr is a hotspot for disillusioned former christians, and stories about how religion isn't all it's chalked up to be are comforting for many, but this simply is not that kind of story. if that's your takeaway from it - that the world the game presents is worth sticking with, that ascension isn't the right choice - that makes sense, it's a valid personal opinion to come away with. however, to argue that the void sea endings are objectively the "bad" endings, or that saint's campaign makes no sense thematically, is to overlook a massively important reason why rain world works so well as a game in the first place: it's intended to be a choice.

saint's ascension ability is in YOUR hands. the game is asking you, the player, what you got out of this, what you think is best. it is asking you to reflect on the themes it's been trying to communicate to you for the last several dozen hours

(can you cope with a life that brings you more pain than joy? if there was another way to exist, would you choose to change? what would you give up to attempt another existence? everything? what if you're being fooled and you're chasing a terrible fate? what if powerful people are preying on your misery and it's all a scam? what is left of you when stripped of all things that cause pain? is it your true self? in a world without pain, what is even left? what if it's everything that means the most to you? what if you're going home? what if you could love without the fear of pain, loss, sickness, death? is the grand more important than the small? is it better to stick with familiar pain, or to chase something frightening that may ultimately make you happy? who can you trust to guide you? who will take advantage of you on the way there? what would get in your way? your own ego? your guilt? bitterness? love for the world you know, an ability to see beauty in the midst of tragedy? is this weakness or strength? etc etc etc don't even get me started on the commentary on religious institutions, classism, structural and familial abuse, and how this is all woven together)

like, I'm sorry, rain world is not a saturday morning cartoon trying to teach you life lessons, it's a piece of interactive fiction using game mechanics as a vehicle for some extremely interesting philosophical discussions, which it politely asks you to actively engage with as you go along. I'm sorry if that's uncomfortable to people who don't relate to those topics, but declaring bad writing on a piece of fiction for not presenting you with a clear-cut moral stance at the end that already aligns with your personal lived experience is just ... a godawful way to interact with stories.

(deliberately handwaving or ignoring major and obvious pieces of symbolism for the sake of declaring it a Good Story That Agrees With You, Actually frankly isn't much better. stop making me read analysis posts where half the story has to be a drug trip for your point to make sense)

[random-and-average]

Yandere Miguel O’Hara with a Tracer-like!S/O

While rewatching Sigma’s origin story from Overwatch (because it’s so cool and chilling), I was suddenly interested in exploring how Miguel would react to a significant other who, similar to Tracer, has a condition that causes them to fade in and out of existence. Although, in this case, his s/o would just randomly teleport from dimension instantaneously since they wouldn’t be “anchored” to their present dimension. Anyways, this is just a fun little concept I thought of. (And I’m considering making a crack post where you are a part of the Shadow Wizard Money Gang…)

TW: stalking, mild mention of violence

Assuming that Miguel knew you before you got afflicted with your current condition, he would definitely be a worry-wart, even if he tries to hide it.

Rather than have the bracer every Spider-Person has, he personally requested (read: demanded) that you have a bracer of your very own. It grounds you to the current dimension you’re in so that you don’t randomly vanish, and it constantly sends your location to Miguel no matter the conditions you’re in. Of course, your bracer doesn’t have any dimension-traveling functions since your affliction already allows you to do that, but it does help you manage the ability better (while also notifying Miguel every time you use it).

If you do use your ability when you’re not in Miguel’s presence, expect a lecture about using your power responsibly. Though, really, Miguel just doesn’t want you to get too comfortable with the idea of leaving him spontaneously hopping through dimensions on your own.

Despite the bracer, however, Miguel prefers to monitor you in person whenever he has the time, though he goes out of his way to make his monitoring less creepy and more appealing for you. For everyone’s sake, it’s best if you at least don’t mind him being around you all the time, so he’ll bring you out to your favorite places or partake in your hobbies in order to warm you up to the idea of him being near you almost constantly.

He would have a heart attack if, somehow, your bracer broke or was taken off. Even if it was repaired or you wore it again immediately after, you would never be able to leave his sight for the next couple of weeks because he fears that you’ll vanish again from his dimension and never be seen again.

He would also attempt to prevent you from interacting with “bad influences.”

Who are these “bad influences” you may ask? Well, for starters, there’s Miles, Hobie, and Peter, since Miguel is 100% sure that they would encourage you to master your ability and use it freely. Then, there’s any version of Dr. Octavius and The Spot for a plethora of reasons.

Don’t even think about joining him or the other Spider-People on missions. You’re staying back at home base until he or someone he trusts is able to monitor you.

Should you be a little devil and teleport to dimension to help out anyway, you’ll essentially get timeout. (A timeout, in his perspective, is you staying in his room until he decides you can leave.)

He’ll definitely ignore any protests you might have regarding traveling to other dimensions and respond with patronizing comments about how “you won’t be able to fend for yourself out in the multiverse” without him or “your condition is just making you think they way.” But, no matter how incessant your complaints may be, he will never snap at you.

As you may have noticed, Miguel isn’t very violent or outwardly aggressive towards you in this situation. If anything, he’s more of an overly protective and smothering yandere, which is all thanks to your current condition. Although, while he isn’t violent with you, don’t expect the same from anyone who disobeys his rules regarding you.

Well, you might consider your situation as a condition, a quirk of yours that you have to manage, but he considers it as an illness, an infection. (For the record, it is not infectious.)

For all the frustration that your uncontrollable dimension hopping brings him, he knows that, in the end, it’s not your fault. You happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time and are now forced to deal with the consequences. As such, you don’t deserve to be treated as if you intended for this to happen.

Of course, he has everyone look into ways to cure your “illness.” Not that dealing with your symptoms is a problem or a burden! Miguel simply wants you to be able to return to your normal life without all of this dimension dissociation nonsense.

In the end, you just need him to protect you more because you’re sick. You may not see it that way, but you will eventually.

[upon-a-starry-night]

Number Neighbors Pt.11

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 982

Summary:  When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

Note: This story does not follow the MCU timeline exactly

---

When you got home you immediately called your mom to tell her about Leon. You explained your whole day and how you felt a new surge in energy and determination just from one date- could you even call it a date? It felt like one.

Your mother was happy for you but in true mother fashion, she urged you to be cautious and not jump into things too quickly. You assured her you would be careful but you couldn’t help but wish she was a little more excited for you. 

After all, it was so hard for you to make friends let alone find someone interested in you, this guy was like a dream come true.

He wasn’t Captain America-level hot but he made up for it with personality

In hopes of receiving a warmer response- and not because you missed her or anything- you broke your silent streak and texted Nat the good news.

~

Nat didn’t know what to do when you texted her that you wished you could hear her voice. Part of her was scared at just how eager she was to give in to your request, how keen she was to hear your voice, how close she’d been to hitting that call button that haunted her day in and day out. 

But you would know.

You knew what The Black Widow sounded like, you’d watched her interviews, you would recognize her voice and that would complicate things.

Would you be mad at her for not telling you?

Would you be weirded out?

Would you give out her number?

She didn’t think you were the kind of person who would do that but it was in her nature to be cautious of everyone and everything. She knew it was probably hurting you that she wasn’t comfortable enough to talk to you but she was scared and that scared her. 

She was The Black Widow for fucks sake, she didn’t get scared, especially not of…well you.

At least that’s what she was trying to convince herself.

Because maybe deep down she knew that she’d already let you in more than she’d meant to.

Deep down she knew she cared about you, and caring was a weakness.

So she spent her Sunday in the training room working off her frustration and she went on her mission and let it consume her mind. She tried to ignore the concerned looks Steve would give her, and the curious ones Clint would throw her way. It was hard being around people who knew you so well.

Both men had noticed the change in her, from someone who wasn’t very interested in social media to suddenly texting every day. They had tried to coax it out of her but she wasn’t ready to share you with anyone yet, let alone admit that she had grown attached to someone. She was sure both men would scold her for trusting someone over text but she was smart and she did her research on you.

She knew the school you graduated from, the business where you worked, the name of your first pet. She was thorough and although the rest of The Avengers never underestimated her, it seemed like sometimes they forgot how prepared she was in every situation.

Every situation but this one it seemed. Emotions were not her forte.

So she let you go silent because she didn’t know what else to do, a part of her was worried as time went on that you weren’t going to text her ever again but come Saturday evening her phone pinged with a notification and her heart skipped a beat at the familiar ice cream emoji that popped up. 

She refused to acknowledge just how fast she opened her phone and clicked on the message.

However, her anticipation and relief were quickly replaced by a pit in her stomach as she read and re-read your text.

       Y/n🍦:

Y/n🍦:

I met a guy!

Nat recognized the feeling in her chest as the same one that she’d felt when she’d met Peter and Wanda. There was an initial protectiveness over their naivety and kindness. 

She felt something akin to that now and she didn’t know why. 

Perhaps it was because you were a young woman living alone in New York and it was her job to protect people like you. But a deeper part of her recognized that wasn’t the case. 

She was worried about you, she had missed you, and while she had been brooding about if you’d ever talk to her again you’d been out meeting new people. 

She knew she didn’t have a right to be upset though. It was her who’d made you upset. She never texted first. She tried to be reserved. 

And you texted her with so much excitement.

She couldn’t bring herself to ruin your joy- or your silent forgiveness of her actions.

            Y/n🍦:

Nat🔪:

Like an actual guy or?

Y/n🍦:

Har-Har

I talk to real people you know

Nat🔪:

Yes, the tennis ball and basketball 

with googly eyes.

They are very real Y/n, I know.

Y/n🍦:

Someone had extra sassy juice today

Nat🔪:

Well I own the company

I have to taste-test the products

Y/n🍦:

Well for your information

This volley-ball with eyes

is cute and wears a leather jacket

Nat🔪:

Hold on- Why do I hear faint music playing

in the background?

Oh wait, my limbs are moving on their own.

I feel a dance coming on

Y/n🍦:

You ass!

He’s very real!

His name is Leon.

Nat🔪:

Leon backward is Noel

You met a Christmas elf.

Congratulations.

Tell Santa I said hi!

Y/n🍦:

OkAy but really-

Can I tell you about him?

Pleeeease?

Nat🔪:

You can tell me anything, Y/n.

Anytime.

You had no idea just how true that statement was. Even if Nat didn’t care about the topic she would listen to you for hours if it made you happy. 

Pt.12

She's back! and sassier than ever! But how will Y/n and Nat interact with this third person entering the story?~ Starry

~Taglist~

@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish @natashaswife4125 @elenimoris @how-to-disappearrr @screechcat @toouncreativeforausername @ordelixx

[beneathstarryskies]

Anytime, Anywhere Part Two (Feat. Rufus, Tseng, and Vincent)

Warnings: smut, fem!reader, public sex

Rufus Shinra

Rufus likes nothing more than to push boundaries and see just exactly how much he can get away with in any given situation. 

Luckily for you, depending on how you look at it, one of his favorite pastimes is seeing how much he can push you to your limits. He’ll initiate sex at any given time or place, never failing to make you flustered. 

At this point, you’ve grown to accept that Rufus will have his fun and you’re his chosen partner in crime. 

The party is boring, you have to admit. It was just a big, elaborate ballroom packed to the ceiling with people who only showed up to kiss President Shinra’s feet and stay in his good graces. For the president, it was an ego-trip and nothing more. It was a bloated, boring display of hubris by a bunch of people with sticks up their asses. 

You were watching Rufus closely, practically begging him to pull some of his usual mischief so you’d get a reprieve from this dull situation. As soon as he managed to get away from his father’s prying eyes, he did just that. He found you in your little hiding place at a table in the far corner, noticing you were about three drinks deep in your attempt to liven yourself up. The wicked look in his pale blue eyes made your skin flush more than all the drinks combined. He sits beside you and leans in close, a delicate and sweet kiss is placed on your cheek. It’s an innocent gesture to any onlookers, but it was a cover for the fact that his hand is already squeezing your thigh. His nimble fingers push the slit of your evening gown over so he can squeeze at the fat of your inner thigh. 

“You look exquisite,” he smirks. “Good enough to eat.” 

The honey dripping from his words makes you tremble with excitement. He places another kiss, this time behind you ear so he can whisper a meeting place for the two of you. Before you can argue with his choice of venue, he’s slipping off to disappear into the crowd. For a moment you consider not following him. He’s pulled this trick plenty of times, but the coat room seemed like a risk even for Rufus. After all, everytime someone arrives or leaves they’ll be using the room to collect their belongings. 

“Fuck it,” you whisper to yourself as you get up from your seat. You make sure nobody is watching before you make your way to the coatroom. You knock twice slowly, then three times rapidly. The same signal the two of you have used for so long during these little escapades. Rufus opens the door just enough to pull you inside. You’ve barely managed to catch your breath when his lips crash against yours. 

“Good little pet,” he whispers. “You never keep me waiting.” 

Tseng

Tseng very often ignores his own needs for the sake of work. This makes being his partner rather frustrating at times. Your feelings for him are so strong, but he is quite stubborn when it comes to his work. 

He is pretty stern with you, and he’ll never really initiate anything outside of the comfort of your shared home. 

However, if you were to say surprise him at the office, he’d have a very difficult time turning you down even if he feels like it’s too risky. 

It has been days since you’ve managed to get any alone time with Tseng. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but no matter how much you tried to get his attention he was steadfast in working. He’d even been mostly sleeping on the couch in his office, in short 20-minute phases. That’s why, when you were led to his office by Reno, he didn’t even notice the long trench coat you were wearing even though it was definitely new and not your usual style. He also didn’t notice when the door clicked as you locked it. In fact you hardly think he notices your presence at all until you’re leaning against his desk, ankles pristinely crossed to show off the nice black pumps you were wearing. 

“Darling, I miss you,” you coo. 

“I miss you too,” he says without looking up from the computer. “I’ve just been busy.” 

“I know,” you pout and look down at your feet shyly. “Too busy for me.” 

He clicks his tongue and if looks could kill then you’d be deceased. You actually feel your heart drop into your stomach. 

“Did you come here just to make me feel guilty?” 

“No, I actually have a surprise for you.”

His eyes narrow suspiciously, “What is it?” 

You stand up straight and begin opening the trench coat. His lips part as your chest is exposed to reveal the pretty lace bodysuit you’re wearing. Slowly you slide the coat off your body. For a moment Tseng forgets where you are and what his position is. His cock stirs in his pants, and he can’t take his eyes off your gorgeous curves. 

“I locked the door,” you smirk. 

Something about those words made reality rush back to him all at once. He grabs your coat off the floor and hurried begins covering you up again. As he leans in to wrap it around your shoulders, you stand on your tiptoes to kiss him. You nip playfully at his bottom lip when you pull away. 

“Please, I miss you so much,” you reach down to cup his cock through his pants and giggle when you feel how hard he already is just from the sight of you. “I know you want it too, baby.” 

He hisses as you rub his erection, “Ten minutes.” 

He moves quickly then, picking you up to place you on his desk. You spread your thighs so he can stand between them. You don’t even bother working on his tie or shirt. Your shaky hands go right to the belt around his waist, fumbling a little to open it. His fingers quickly open the buttons on the crotch of your body suit to expose your pussy to him. As he toys with your wet folds, a hunger appears in his eyes. 

“Maybe make that 20.” 

Vincent Valentine

Vincent met you unexpectedly as he wandered the world, doing what he could to help keep what remained of Midgar safe. It was when the remnants arrived to reclaimed Jenova, and you’d been injured. He did what he could to heal you, then expected you to be on your way…But you stayed by his side under the guise that you’d be safer with him than trying to make it home on your own. 

Even after Sephiroth was once more defeated at the hands of Cloud, you’d still stuck around. He was secretly happy about it, but he never said as such to you. 

The motivation to initiate something romantic arrived just as suddenly as you had. It wasn’t in public on purpose, but dammit he couldn’t hold back anymore. 

He couldn’t stand it. He’d taken you to Edge to get some supplies, and it was painstaking to see you so in awe at the city. It had grown since the last time he was here, and the city had more to offer than it had. Shinra, or what remained of it, had truly built something special out of the ashes of Midgar. You’d remained with him at your own insistence, staying by his side as company even if at times he offered little of himself. Seeing you so excited to be in the hustle and bustle of the city made him nervous. It made him ponder going back to a life without you at his side, and the loneliness you’d helped cure in him despite not even knowing it. So often you’d quietly thanked him “for taking care of you” and he never really knew what you meant. 

You were having fun, until you noticed Vincent decidedly wasn’t. He seemed even more sullen than usual. His face seemed sunken even lower in the collar of his cape. He’s walking a few paces behind you with his eyes fixed ahead. You slow your walk so he can catch up. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” you ask. He only hums in response, never looking down at you. “Don’t be a sourpuss.” 

“I’m not.” 

You reach down to take his hand, a gesture he’s not at all used to, then pull him into the quietest alleyway you can find. He sighs as you cross your arms. 

“If you wish to stay in the city, I have…friends who can help you,” he says. “You’re not bound to me.” 

You laugh, “I know that. Vincent, I stay because I want to. I-I like being with you…I like you.” 

He tries to hide the way his eyes widen and his cheeks burn. It doesn’t matter because you’re leaning in to kiss him softly, finally taking the chance you’ve wanted to for so long. You reach up to run your fingers through his long, dark hair. He tries not to succumb to the passion growing inside of him, but he can’t help himself from clinging to you and pulling you closer. 

He would’ve much preferred that your first time making love wasn’t in a dirty alleyway, but after yearning for so long he can’t hold back any longer. He’s pressed close to you, kissing you and sighing with a peace he hasn’t known in so long.

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

https://at.tumblr.com/twistedwonderlandimaginesblog/hi-could-i-please-the-dorm-leaders-reactions-when/ig9u1thr34hy

Hello! Can you please write this, but with vice leaders (with Ruggie included and with Floyd instead of Ortho) ? Thank you ❤️

Floyd Leech: 

You handled yourself quite well but that didn’t mean Floyd could just let the issue rest. He has to wonder if the person who flipped your skirt only had half a brain, because in most places Floyd’s reputation preceded him. He had made it all too clear that you were an item, and yet this person had still decided to touch you? He drags the man to you shaking like a leaf, holding them up in front of you and demanding a sincere apology (one that he’ll make him repeat if he doesn’t find it sincere enough).

Jade Leech:

Jade knows he puts out a bit of a different picture than his brother, but he didn’t realize that people had such little respect for him that they didn’t fear his abilities properly. He’d love to make your attacker something a little more subtle but he wants it known you’re under his protection, should they make another foolish move like that again. He’s not above using Azul’s pull on Crowley to get any punishment on your end wiped, hoping to also make the punishment on your harasser that much more extreme.

Jamil Viper: 

To Jamil it sounded like someone abusing their power over you, especially if it was a senpai who had rudely invaded your privacy. He understood just how frustrated you were with getting punished, as it seemed like people could never retaliate without seeming ‘just as bad as the aggressor’. Jamil is firmly on your side, using his unique magic to make them grovel on their hands and knees in front of you. The humiliation they suffer is enough for him to feel like they got their just desserts, and he hoped you felt the same.

Lilia Vanrouge:

Life had taught him a fair few things, and one of those things was that there wasn’t always justice served where it was due. He agreed that the kick was deserved as who knew what might happen next if you hadn’t defended yourself, taking the situation rather seriously (when you thought he might making it feel a little more light-hearted for the sake of helping you move on). He decided to speak to that person and make it clear the effect they had on you, coming off as if he’s educating them; while there is some food for thought in Lilia’s words there’s also an underlying threatening aura that is daring them to try something like that with you again.

Rook Hunt: 

Rook isn’t one to resort to violence as his first line of defense, but it’s not possible for him to simply ignore what had happened to you. Especially if you confided in him about your fears and frustrations, it was simply not something Rook could let go. He’ll take what seemed to be a more passive route where he’s ‘hunting’ the person down, committing their schedule to heart and appearing around every corner they turned for the next month. The threat is a subtle one but he has them begging you for forgiveness, asking to call your guard dog off so their life could continue.

Ruggie Bucchi:

Ruggie can’t help but snicker when you first tell him about the incident, knowing that the other dude had it coming more likely than not. Hearing the reason behind you striking back makes it far less funny, and he finds a sour taste remained in his mouth when he thought about it. He had a way of making things happen, unfortunate things, and he knew his unique magic could take care of your harasser in no time. He might have to get permission from Leona before doing anything too crazy, but as long as he covered his tracks he’s sure his dorm leader is willing to turn a blind eye.

Trey Clover:

Trey is a man of opportunity. In the moment when you’re confiding in him about your troubles, he’ll focus on comforting you. It’s not an easy situation to be in and he empathizes with the choices you had to make, and how you feel like the other party didn’t get in nearly enough trouble. He won’t actively seek revenge for you but if the chance ever presented itself, allowing Trey to get rather underhanded, he would take the opportunity.

[ultratradmalewife]

Different anon here replying to one of your other anons. One thing I want to emphasize is that BuckTommy fans TRIED to be friendly with Buddies. We really did. In fact, all we did was post celebratory posts about Buck's bisexuality, talk about how much we loved him with Tommy, discussed what headcanons we had, in addition to the hopes we had for the future of their relationship. The large majority of BuckTommy fans were and still are fans of Eddie. The large majority of us LOVE Buck's relationship with Eddie, even if many of us only see it as platonic. We've never seen Eddie as a threat, nor have we set out to vilify and attack Buddie fans for not liking Tommy or wanting him to be with Buck. But the same CANNOT be said about Buddies. It became very clear, very fast, that Buddies were threatened by Buck's relationship with Tommy, and because of that, they quickly began antagonizing BuckTommy shippers. Calling us horrific racial slurs, being disgustingly homophobic and biphobic, accusing us of fetishizing Buck with Tommy because "we're slaves to white men" and "love calling white men massa" (real fucking quotes said many times by Buddies), intentionally posting what initially seem like positive posts in our tag, only to throw us a curveball at the end by basically saying "Psych!" with something extremely rude and anti-BuckTommy. They even post fanfiction that is presented as being all about BuckTommy, only to kill Tommy off at the end or have Buck break up with him and then have Buck get with Eddie. And they laugh about all of that, over and over, in the BuckTommy tag. All this to say, it can get deeply, deeply frustrating when people, especially so-called decent Buddie fans (because they can't tell me they don't witness the shit their fellow Buddie members pull on the daily), try to "both sides" this situation and accuse BuckTommy fans of being just as problematic and incapable of civility as Buddies. No, no, no. BuckTommy fans have been nothing like Buddies, and to try portraying us as an equal part of the problem feels like an extremely bad faith take meant to downplay the toxicity of Buddie shippers while vilifying BuckTommy fans for, God forbid, calling Buddies out on their abhorrent behavior. Because that's what the large majority of BuckTommy's anger consists of--defending our IDENTITIES against disgusting personal attacks, and, again, God forbid, daring to call Buddies out when they relentlessly, CONSTANTLY twist their head canons into "fact", misrepresent the truth over and over again, and then try to portray anyone who disagrees with them as stupid and beneath them. That's toxic ass behavior, and BuckTommy fans shouldn't have to sing "Kumbaya" for the sake of civility so some of you guys can feel comfortable, not when Buddies are committed to being cruel and disgusting at every turn. And I haven't even touched on the fact that BuckTommy fans are not the ones harassing the showrunner and actors, and trying to get an actor FIRED by misrepresenting what he said and trying to twist it into something actually really gross and fucked up, just so they can try to get what they want. So some of you guys can positively miss me with the "both sides" attempt. The only thing I WILL say about BuckTommy fans is that we do need to make a bigger attempt at ignoring Buddies. We can get a little TOO caught up in what the Buddies are saying and doing to us. But on the other hand, BuckTommy fans have a right to defend ourselves, especially when the attacks are constantly real fucking personal and don't even have anything to DO with shipping.

I agree with all of what you said. I know how things happened. I had even said there’s no reason for the Bucktommy side of the fandom to start a ship war, it all started with die hard Buddies, and I don’t usually see the ones who play both sides because I blocked them. There’s no reason in talking to them because they’re either just as scared of Buddies or don’t want confrontation. I also know people who want to play both sides are just people telling BuckTommy fans how to react, and they’re never telling Buddies how to act. I agree with you 100% on that and those are the people I block.

I’ve also been told I’m racist because I hate Eddie and Mexicans (I don’t), by people who either don’t know or don’t care that I’m Mexican (100% both parents born there and so was I).

I made a whole post explaining how Buddies have been homophobic when they tried to downplay their homophobia to simply cropping Lou from pictures. I know the slang and words that they tried to attach to him and the community. Those people are also blocked.

Now, like I told last anon I’m not trying to bridge that gap. You can see some of my own past posts how petty I can be to the die hard buddies. I am one person and I’m not going to change a whole fandom of toxicity. All I can do is block and search for those who can make my experience here a peaceful and fun one.

So far I haven’t made any friends here. There’s no DMs and it’s just been likes and comments on posts. I try reaching out to Buddie shippers who I think could be pals, and they never respond, or if I mention Tommy it’s dead silent afterwards (ironically the thing they claim to hate that Tommy did to Chimney is what they do to me), and I don’t try again. Most of the buddie shippers who I briefly talk to are ones who have seen how crazy their side of the fandom have started acting. Some of them have even “jumped ship” because of that.

I’m not here to make this whole group thing happen. I came from a fandom where these type of things don’t happen. This is new to me. I only left because the source material is too long and I know I don’t have the dedication or time to consume it fully, and people there respect the source material. I didn’t want to feel like I didn’t belong there, so I left.

I was able to consume the entire source material here. I even enjoyed myself doing it. 911 is one of my top 3 favorite shows ever. I entered this fandom having high hopes of fitting into a community, but as we can see that didn’t happen. I’m not trying to have all of us love each other or even talk to each other, all I’m trying to do is find that small few who can be part of a peaceful community for this one show.

I’m also not asking for any black person or person of color to forgive, only you have the power to do that for yourself.

I really want to find my peace in this fandom. I have blocked so many people, and don’t even try to reach out to others because I know it’s a lost cause, this is just my attempt to find my place here. I hope you can understand that.

[gimmethatagustd]

Mix the colors in the palette, pick your filter / Which me do you want? / The one to change your world, I'm your filter / Overlay me in your heart / Can you feel it now? Is it still not enough?

» pairing: idol!yoongi x reader

» genre: BTS | 18+ | drabble | idol au | comfort | fluff

» wc/date: 1k | December 2022

» warnings: none aside from poor bby yoongi having an identity crisis

» note: i think this is cute so i hope you do too 🥺

“FUCK!” 

You were ripped from sleep (abruptly ending your dream about becoming the president and legalizing weed) by the sound of glass breaking. Your phone told you it was nearly 3 AM and the cold sheets on the side of the bed where your boyfriend was supposed to be told you the crashing and cursing were coming from him. 

There probably should have been a stronger sense of urgency in the way you climbed out of bed and tiptoed down the hall to the kitchen, but you were so fucking tired it was hard to think straight. The medication you took to help with your insomnia made waking up particularly difficult, especially in the middle of the night. 

Yoongi stood in the middle of the kitchen. His cheeks were bright pink, and half of his dark hair was pulled into a small ponytail, the rest of the strands falling against the tops of his shoulders. Small shards of glass were scattered around him on the floor. A bottle of Hennessy sat on the kitchen table, but you chose not to linger on that. 

“What the fuck are you doing, babe?” You rubbed your eyes with your fists and blinked hard in the artificial light assaulting your vision. 

Yoongi only scowled. 

You hated when he got like this. How were you supposed to help him if he didn’t tell you what he needed? 

With a sigh, you retreated to the hallway to get a broom and dustpan from the closet. It was difficult to sweep up the shards with Yoongi still standing in the same spot, but you did your best to get the larger pieces. 

Once the large shards were disposed of in the trashcan, you turned to the kitchen sink to grab a paper towel. Just a bit of water was needed to make the paper towel damp enough for your liking. Yoongi continued to stand, eyes trained on the wall, while you crouched at his feet. Slowly sweeping the damp paper towel across the floor collected the rest of the glass shards that were difficult for you to see, the tiny ones that were likely to cut into his feet. Yoongi always walked around barefoot, another thing you hated. Men’s feet were weird-looking. That was just a fact. 

Satisfied with your work, you threw away the paper towel and resumed your stance in front of your boyfriend with your arms crossed against your chest and your eyelids heavy. 

“Gonna tell me what’s wrong now?” 

It seemed the time it took for you to finish cleaning gave Yoongi the time he needed to calm down. His was was no longer twisted with frustration, though his new expression was just as sad. He was exhausted, but you already knew that. How could he not be? A decade of being run into the ground for the sake of his art and his fans and making the company filthy rich would exhaust even the strongest people. 

You definitely knew you wouldn’t be able to hang. Capitalism was a scam. 

“I don’t know what the fuck they want from me,” he said with gritted teeth. You thought he was going to explain himself further, but after a few moments of silence he held out his hand. 

With a sleepy smile, you pulled Yoongi against your chest and ignored the smell of alcohol that clouded your senses when he exhaled against your hair. He curled his arm around your waist and held the back of your head with his other hand. Everyone joked about Yoongi being small, but one hug from him was enough to prove that he was solid and sturdy and safe. 

“Who, baby?” 

“Everyone.” The softness of his whisper made your soul ache. “We go over the songs, they said it sounds too Agust D. I rewrite, rerecord, go over the songs so many fucking times. Suddenly it’s too SUGA, too BTS. They want something different than “D-2”, different than “That That” and “Girl Of My Dreams”, but then they say I’m straying too far from what fans are used to. What is the fucking album supposed to be, Y/N?” 

You nuzzled your face against his collarbone and waited, knowing he didn’t expect an answer. After half a heartbeat, he was continuing. 

“Is this an Agust D album or a SUGA album?” He squeezed you even tighter. 

“What kind of album do you want it to be?” 

It seemed like an obvious question, but Yoongi tilted his head down to look at you with wide eyes. 

Fuck, he was so cute. Was it wrong of you to think he was cute while he was trembling with anger and exhaustion? Eh, it was probably fine. You’d gotten super fucked up at the “Jack in the Box” party and Yoongi had to take care of you while you puked in the bathroom. He’d said you looked cute then. You threatened to throw up on him. 

“I want it to be a Yoongi album,” he said softly. 

“Then make a Yoongi album. Fuck everyone else!” You pressed a quick kiss against his neck and then hopped away from him before he could swat at you for purposefully trying to tickle him with your kisses. “Well, don’t fuck everyone else. Just fuck me.” 

Yoongi rolled his eyes, but his hands searched for you again. Grabbing your wrists, he pulled you back against his chest, crushing you so hard you could barely breathe. It was fine, though. He needed touches, skin-on-skin contact, a reminder that he wasn’t alone in all of this. 

“A Yoongi album…” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “I’ve spent too much time creating for other people.” 

You hummed in agreement, snaking your hands beneath his t-shirt to hold his lower back. 

“It’ll fucking kick ass, Yoong. Everything you produce kicks ass. You’re a genius.” 

Yoongi huffed at that, but the gummy grin gives him away. “I said that one time.” 

“One time was enough. It’s out in the universe now. Plus, Genius Lab?? Excuse me, it’s right there.” 

“Leave me alone,” he whined, pulling you even closer. He couldn’t let you go even if he tried. 

[verdemoun]

I think about your timewarp Dutch au every day since you posted it can I pretty please get more detail on Hosea seeing Dutch again for the first time *holding my hands out like a Victorian boy begging for food*

hosea tries to ignore it for so long. dutch is back and that doesn't need to affect him. he can carry on with his life knowing dutch is tucked away somewhere they did ensure was nice and he'll be fine. dutch being back doesn't mean they didn't go seperate ways years ago, and should have years before that again. hell, he spends most of his days thinking about how little he needs to be thinking about dutch

bessie only asking how dutch is going because she knows her husband is listening. she knows him too well, she's always known he loves dutch and almost has to inexplicitly tell him it's okay. she fell in love with him knowing he was always going to love dutch too (frankly all they'd needed was a label on what was happening between them and she would've been undeniably a homewrecker)

annabelle having to pause, and think about it. how do you explain he's dutch? he's just… dutch - again. he speaks with the same obnoxious conviction of someone who always thinks he's right. he's almost calm, constant calm, that self-assuredness that things will turn out his way is back. not quick to anger like the stories she'd heard after blackwater. she's fully aware of all the awful things he's done but he seems so much more like the dutch she knew than that monster. no one's explained the timewarp to him, he just knows annabelle is there in whatever strange new world he's in but he still talks about the gang, the old days of the gang, fondly.

hosea knew he was going to have to see him eventually. probably wouldn't have been able to physically stop himself from seeing him, eventually.

it isn't a hotel he can't just walk in. he's having to listen to staff echo things he knew. things he'd doubted he knew. dutch is smart, so many of his criticisms of society are valid just too grand for a single action to challenge. there are absolutely moments where he's only pretending to care about something better than a shakespearean actor but he also has so much genuine empathy for the people he does cares about. dutch is forming meaningful relationships with people and hosea still being in denial. there's no way not after how much he changed not after everything he's done.

but there's dutch. hair growing out again, not the hacked short mess of his 1911 mugshot, long streaks of silver slicked back all the same in what now seems like a horrendously outdated style. when he sees hosea, looks at him, that sparkle is still in his eyes but it's tired. he's tired, it's all over dutch's face how tiresome the last 12 years have been. but dutch knows it's him, instantaneously, grin spreading over his face with the same confident strides of his younger years gone.

pulls him into a hug so tight still with typical bloke slaps on the back as he laughs in sheer joy

you haven't changed a bit, old girl

how dreadful of you to suggest i've always looked like this

nonsense. though i suspect my days of looking good are long over, too

hug doesn't release. hosea hears the single, shaky breath in his ear and knows all those arguments he's imagined screaming at dutch for what happened back in canon aren't going to happen. at least not today, not when he's finally just getting to hug dutch again and hear the almost broken tone in his voice as he says 'i missed you, hosea.'

it's almost frustrating how quickly they can fall back into that comfort with one another, old men older than they ever got to be bickering like a married couple. offering to go for a drive just to get out for a bit and dutch making some tasteless joke about it not ending so well last time he was in a car. least not for the driver. hosea trying so hard not to laugh because you really shouldn't joke about murdering people for christ's sake but dutch knows damn well he was going to.

catching dutch up on how the gang are doing because dutch always did care about them, he just lost himself somewhere and hearing dutch acknowledge that he went too far. hosea knowing that so much of the gang are still holding onto and processing that grief, and might not ever be ready or willing to see him. dutch accepting that too, acknowledging aloud how grateful he is hosea even gave him a chance.

still getting annoyed at him in that almost endearing way. he has always gotten annoyed with dutch sometimes. the correct response to young jack marston grew up to kill edgar ross was not 'good for him!'

[miss-tc-nova]

The Smallest Lapse - Malleus Draconia x Reader

It's not my favorite, but I'm ready to move on.

Anyway, I remember his chef's vignette talking about how difficult it is for him to control is strength in regards to fragile things. I think people can be pretty fragile. I originally wanted to break the arm but I'm not ready to write that.

Premise: Malleus is avoiding his problem

Words: 1,334

Warning: Minor Glorious Masquerade spoilers

~~~~~

               It’s been about a month since the events of the Fluer City social and while I very much enjoyed the proper event, I’ve noticed the peculiar behavior of a certain dragon ever since then.

               Normally, we had no qualms spending our time together; in conversation or in silence—we were comfortable. But ever since we returned to Night Raven College, it feels as if Malleus is avoiding me. I can never find him at any our usual spots anymore. A few times when I’ve spotted him, I called out, only for the mage to turn a corner and suddenly disappear. Even when I go straight to Diasomnia, they always tell me that he's not around, but I swear I’ve seen him in the window.

               I know he’s his own person and that he’s allowed to do things on his own. Hell, if he wants, he never has to see me again. But I miss him, and until he tells me those words himself, I won’t give up on him.

               And I have a plan.

               Now, obviously I can’t just call out to him or he’ll vanish again. As much as I want to simply confront the man, I need to think with fae rules. So after foregoing homework and wracking my brain, I was up all night.

               And I think I finally have something.

               Ambling the school yard, I check under every tree. It takes me at least thirty minutes before I find the delivery boy I’m looking for. Fast asleep as I expected him to be is Silver, perfectly comfortable beneath the dappled shade.

               “Ever reliable, aren’t you,” I hum, tucking the envelope under his hand.

               At the slight movement, the young man hums. I immediately put space between us, afraid that his retainer skills might kick in and he’ll act before he thinks. But thankfully, Silver remains at rest and I can hurry back to Ramshackle to await the fruits of my schemes.

               I can’t help the grin that splits my face when I hear a knock on the front door. It’s exactly 7 p.m. Scurrying towards the entrance, I grab the front door and rip it open to find my guest.

               He looks unamused, his lips pursed as he stares down at me. Lifting the envelope with his name scrawled on the front that I had entrusted to my messenger, for the first time in a month, Malleus speaks to me.

               “Well played, Child of Man.” Frustration oozes from each word.

               “Welcome to Ramshackle,” I say, waving my guest into the dorm. “We’ve been expecting you, Mr. Draconia.”

               He crosses the threshold. “I’m sure you have.”

               “May I take your coat, sir?”

               My satire does not go unnoticed. “No, actually. There’s quite the breeze outside and I don’t intend on staying long.”

               I frown, following him into the commons. “Well that’s a bit rude.”

               “Unfortunately, my hands are tied. I have things to do.” Even as he insults me, his eyes never fall on me.

               “Like what? Ignore me some more?”

               “I assure you, I have not been ignoring you.” He peruses the random assortment of snacks I managed to procure for the sake of appearances. “School work and other commitments have been demanding my attention as of late.”

               “Yeah right.” Skirting around the dragon, I get right in his face so he’ll finally look at me. “Look, I’m not gonna beat around the bush and if you don’t wanna stay, I won’t keep you long. I can’t spend all my time chasing after you when there’s not a hope in hell of me catching you.” A dark brow pops in surprise. “So I just want you to be honest with me. You can either tell me why you’re avoiding me.” I let my gaze drop. “Or you can just say you never want to see me again and we can leave it at that.”

               The silence gnaws at my heart.

               “Surely you must understand by now that I would never say those words to you.”

               My lips twist in heartache. “Yeah, well, it sure feels like that’s what you want to do.”

               Suddenly, he seems to be the one trying to speak to me. “That was never my intention.”

               “You’ve sure got a shitty way of showing that.”

               This time, both his brows rise; I’m sure nobody has ever spoken to him like that before. I’m actually surprised he doesn’t snap back or even just leave—I probably would have.

               His mouth opens once, but the man rethinks his words. Then he tries again.

               “Perhaps you’re right.”

               It’s my turn to be surprised.

               “I never considered that my self-control would be lacking, yet here we stand.”

               My lack of understanding keeps my mouth shut, yet Malleus steps forward. As though my skin is paper, he coaxes my hand to rise. Fingers ghost my arm, brushing back the sleeve to bare what lies beneath.

               This is nothing new to me. The spot has faded to nearly non-existent, the faintest discoloration the only remnants of what transpired. Considering just how bad it was, it’s healing fantastically. Originally, the deepest, darkest violet had consumed my entire forearm and for days after, I could barely move my fingers without pain. Honestly, that it wasn’t broken was a miracle.

               And it was Malleus’s fault.

               Actually, it was Rollo’s, but the injury came by Malleus’s own hand. When the floor fell out from under us, his immediate reaction saved me seeing as I was the only one unable to defend myself. His grip hurt like hell, but I’d take that over slamming into the concrete below. The ensuing insanity proved a decent distraction until the following day. Even so, I thought everything was fine all things considered. We enjoyed the rest of the social, even sharing a dance between myself and the Briar prince. I’m not even sure when he discovered what he'd done—granted I didn’t take a lot of care to hide it.

               My question comes out softly awestruck. “That’s why you’re avoiding me?”

               His touch retracts. “I don’t regret saving you, but this event has shown me that even the smallest lapse in judgement could cause serious harm.” The slightest furrow of his brows reveals the guilt he’s been struggling with ever since the school social.

               His words ruminate in my heart—trying to get a grasp on the fear he’s feeling. Yet the understanding does not sway my own pain.

               “Didn’t you ever learn that avoiding your problems never solves anything?”

               “I’m sorry?”

               “You’ll never learn full self-control if you keep avoiding the problem.” I gesture to my arm. “—and that hurts more than this ever did.” There’s a trace of fear sneaking through my heart. “Accidents happen—even to you—but I’m still here. We can get through them together better than before. So please…don’t stop trying.”

               The young man seems to take in my words, but his heart still set on never seeing me again still terrifies me.

               Chilled fingers graze my face, tracing along my ear and jawline until he tips my face by the chin.

               Riddled with guilt, he says, “How is it that the person I hurt most seems the least afraid?”

               “Because I know your intention.” Again, I brandish the bruised limb. “Besides, I’d take this over a split skull any day.”

               Finally, a smile slips his lips. “Yes, I can’t imagine that would be very enjoyable.”

               It’s always been an infectious problem, but I’ll never regret the second-hand smiles I get from seeing others happy. “So…wanna hang out?”

               A finger taps his chin. “I suppose those other tasks can wait. After all, I was invited.”

               “Yes!”

               Without hesitation, I launch at the dragon. Not a single muscle budges as I collide into him but his arms still support my weight. Even with all my strength, he’s not fazed by my arms around his neck. Playfully, my head bumps against his.

               “I missed you.”

               That deep chuckle twists at my insides.

               “I missed you too.”

[laalaaliaa]

Hello! Can I pls request a titans! Dick x reader? They're in a romantic relationship btw

Idea/prompt: You have been dating dick for about 8 months and it has been amazing so far. But lately, you've been feeling more insecure about yourself and your relationship. You've always known about all of dicks past relationships but youve never thought anything of it. But lately, you've been thinking about it and you've come to the realization that all of his exes were much better than you.

Dick can't help but notice the way you've been distancing yourself and he feels as if he's done something wrong to make you upset. But after almost a week of this, he gets frustrated and decides to confront you. When you were both getting ready to go to sleep, he cornered you and asked you what was wrong and why you've been avoiding him.

At first, you try to ignore him and say that you need to get some rest, but you eventually give in and explain everything to him. He feels horrible, how hadn't he noticed before? He comforted you and cuddles your worries away.

Have a good day!

Leaden Insecurities

in which your insecurities start to show…

dick grayson x fem!reader

warnings: the tiniest bit of angst, but fluffy towards the end

proofread? nope

i’m such a bad liar! i said i’d be back, but once school started up again, i began to feel stressed, but i reallyyy do hope you enjoy, i also changed it up a bit, hope you don’t mind <33

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Galas are such a bore. Perhaps it was because you stuck out like a sore thumb. For the sake of your lover you attended, and possibly because of the appetizers Alfred always had laid out. You felt self-conscious, fear tantalizing you as you weaved your way through crowds of snobby rich people. You felt so warm, your skin hot to the touch, but only so much air could cool you down. As you waltzed your way towards one of the openings towards the garden, you stumbled at the feeling of someone bumping into your back.

The both of you muttered apologies, sympathetic smiles filled with faux intentions before you finally caught a glance of one another. Barbra Gordon. A red-headed beauty who you knew somewhat well. “I’m sorry Y/N.” She let out weakly, a genuine smile on her face as she held your forearm affectionately. You only shook your head, a slight relief from not possibly bumping into one of Gotham’s finest. “It’s fine Barbra, I’m actually happy to actually be in the vicinity of someone I know,” You joked lightly, causing her to laugh in agreement.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, a person, who you both knew in and out was staring at you two tensely. It wasn’t a secret that Barbra and Dick had been together. You actually befriended Dick whilst they were still in a relationship. Once they’re relationship went to shit, the two of you took the opportunity to possibly strike one up, and in both your favors, it worked. “Careful Grayson, Barbra might just turn her on you.” Dick heard Jason jab playfully. Dick might’ve laughed if the situation was different, but he didn’t. Instead he watched from afar as your entire conversation unfolded.

“So what’re you doing here?” Barbra questioned, her head tilting slightly as she stirred her champagne glass cooly. “I’m here with Dick actually.” You meekly replied, slyly glancing behind her to catch sight of him already looking at you. You turned your attention back to Barbra, watching the way her face conformed in realization. Suddenly the air became tense, as Barbra spoke, “Wow, I’m actually surprised you’re still together.” Your brows furrowed slightly at her shady comment, but you could only laugh awkwardly.

“What does that mean?” You pressed, your tone light, in hopes she wouldn’t detect the hostility her statement arose in you. She only shrugged, lifting the glass to her cherry covered lips as she took a long sip. Once she pulled the glass away, her reply shocked you. “Well it just seems like he has a type.” You scoffed lightly, an offended expression upon your face as you leaned back slightly. “What are you getting at?” She shrugged once more, her action irritating you before she spoke, “You’ll see the signs eventually,” And with that she left with a squeeze to your shoulder, which ultimately felt like her touch burned you.

He has a type? You couldn’t help but ponder on that question, the conversation you two shared stuck in your head on repeat. It’s been almost a week since the gala, and since then, you couldn’t help but shelter yourself. You built a brick wall, the fear of Barbra being right causing your heart to hurt a little. You knew Dick wasn’t clueless, he was a detective for crying out loud, but he was also your boyfriend, and with that title, came him knowing when something was wrong.

He knew something was wrong the minute you left Bruce’s home, the way you shifted your body towards the window in the car, the way you didn’t rest your hand atop his as he drove the two of you home, and the way you went to bed that night, without giving him a good night kiss. Your days blended together that way, a painfully cruel reminder that you were just a bland and simple girl. Basic. Dick Grayson could do better.

Damn you Barbra.

Night time became a comforting bliss, the darkness of the sky and the brightness of the moon was beautiful. Especially when you laid sprawled out on the couch, street light and moon light meshed together as it splayed across your skin through the sheer curtains. With a frazzled mind, you hoped a book could keep it occupied, yet your eyes kept skimming over the same sentence. The irony of the words making you want to laugh

quiet down i begged my mind

your overthinking is

robbing us of joy

Rupi Kaur was too relatable for your liking. With a quiet sigh you set down the book, lazily guiding your attention to a random talk show on the tv. You waited impatiently, waiting for the moment the squeaky door would creak open, forcing you to put that wall back up. You waited, and waited, until eventually you forgot about the existence of your beloved boyfriend. Too engrossed in a re-run of the bachelor, you failed to notice the door open.

It wasn’t until Dick leaned over the back of the couch, pressing a feathered kiss to your hair, causing you to tense. “How was your day?” He asked, making his way towards the kitchen and out of your sight. You gave him the same response you’d been giving him the last few days, “It’s been good babe.” He hummed at that, returning back to you with a water bottle in hand. “Are you sure?” You leaned into his side, giving him a nod of assurance. It was silent after that, and you couldn’t help but bite your bottom lip anxiously.

You glanced at him, his head tilted back as he let out a distressed sigh. You hated knowing that a few little words could cause a riff in your relationship, but you couldn’t help it. You knew Dick was the sweetest soul on earth, his kindness and compassion making him hard to resist, yet knowing that he chose you of all people made you question everything. “Y/N,” He started, leaning forward onto his knees. “Talk to me baby, I can’t stand..,” He waved his hands around with a pained expression, “This.”

You looked at him naively, head tilted as you grasped his hand. “Dick what are you talking about? I’m fine, see.” You gestured to yourself, a smile on your face as you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. He was silent after that, mumbling a weak agreement as he sunk back into the couch, an arm wrapped atop your shoulder. You two spent a mere hour like that, before the darkness of the night made you woozy with sleep, prompting the two of you to turn in for the night.

You silently washed your face, the sound of the water in the shower distracting your racing thoughts. It was only when you heard it turn off that your thoughts seemed to race back into your head. Although you were silent, face void of any emotion as you applied lotion to your skin. Kori had lovely skin. You wanted to punch yourself, however with Dick half naked with a towel around his lower waist you could hopefully bury your mind with different thoughts. You left the bathroom, humid air and the smell of his coconut-hibiscus shampoo making your mind go under.

You settled into the bed first, silent as he slipped on a pair of boxers and his favorite pair of sleeping pants. Instead of getting in like he normally did, you were surprised that he only sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands as he let out a tired breath. “Y/N,” Your body seemed to go tense at the seriousness of his tone, making you pull he blanket up higher for him to get the idea of possibly going to sleep. “Yes babe.” He stood from the edge, making his way by your legs before sitting down, the sight of his chest glimmering slightly from the lotion you bought him making you want to curse yourself.

dirty minded bit-

“We need to talk.” He spoke solemnly, breaking you from your thoughts as your throat went dry. You knew it was coming eventually. Barbra was right, you were so-“I’m worried about you babe.” Wrong. You were so wrong? He seemed to notice you confusion, making him chuckle lightly, before he grew serious once more. “I’m just tired, like super tired, I woke up earlier than I normally do.” You reassured, even going as far as rubbing your eyes when you knew you were lying some what. “Did I do something?” He questioned weakly, making your slumped form perk up slightly. “No I—no baby, it’s not you. Well it is you, but,” You cut yourself off, laughing weakly as you head fell sourly.

“It’s silly.” “Clearly not if it’s making my girlfriend a completely different person. Talk to me baby.” You knew it was now or never, you’d either receive the answer you were looking for, or be dumped onto the streets just like Barbra had implied. “Why me?” The question was so short, sweet and simple, yet there was a multitude of answers you could’ve gotten, making your heart race slightly at his silence. “Why you.” He restated, making you nod weakly. “Baby, you have my heart, mind, and soul in the palm of your hand,” He started, his hand slipping into yours comfortingly. “And it hurts knowing that, you feel insecure in why I wanna be with you. Y/N, you’re amazing, you’re you, and I hate the fact that you don’t see yourself the way I do.”

You felt the sudden urge to bite your lip, a possible stream of tears soon to erupt, but you couldn’t. You stared at him with such a loving expression in your eyes, and he couldn’t help but fall for you more. “You’re no superhero, and I’m glad, they’re all copy and paste anyways, I mean look at ‘Gymnastics man’ I—ow babe I’m serious.” He finished, holding his shoulder with a genuine smile as he rubbed the spot you hit playfully. “His back handsprings are killer.” He joked, making you laugh for the first time in days. He smiled at that. “In all seriousness, I don’t care that you can’t fly, or shoot lasers—although that’d be pretty cool- right sorry, not the point,” He began once more, his hands held up in surrender at the sight of your glare.

“However, you’re Y/N, a pretty cool chick who’s not afraid of anything, except for maybe spiders, and haunted houses. Not the point again, but I love you for you, for all your faults and insecurities. I love you.” He finished, a smile gracing his face as silently watched your expression morph and soon the tears fled. “I hate you.” You cried weakly, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He shushed you, pressing a soft kiss into your hair. “If you hated me, then you wouldn’t have agreed to be my girlfriend 8 months ago.” He had you there. You only rolled your eyes with a sniffle, pulling back as you stared into his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, however if you ever doubt this,” He gestured between the two of you, “You talk to me baby.” You nodded at that, finally pulling his face closer as you gave him a well deserved kiss. The two of you pulled away, your foreheads resting on one another as you smiled at each other. “I love you Y/N L/N.”

“I love you too Dick Grayson.”

It was silent, until Dick had to ruin it

“Can we talk about Gymnastics man copying me?”

“No.”

——————

the end. I hope you enjoyed, and yes i’m terrified of haunted houses.

[weather-cluddy]

Man, today's question really reminded of how little interest Shidou seems to have in Amane as a person. He says he's frustrated that he doesn't have the time to "do something" about her, but even when she approached him, he didn't even try to reason with her or comfort her.

She tries to warn him that he's committing an unforgivable sin that will damn everybody, he's just like "Now, what could you be talking abooout? Anyways, just stop worrying about it and help me, okay?". And when she insists, his reply is "Ok, wow, you're so spoiled. Your parents must've been real soft on you until now, but that's not gonna fly with me, alright? I'm a responsible adult, I'm going to ignore you no matter how much of a brat you are"

He just dismissed Amane's very obvious mental breakdown as a mere temper tantrum, presuming that Amane doesn't truly care about anything she's espousing and that she's just trying to test boundaries. May I also point out how Shidou makes zero mention of Amane in his voice drama, either as a threat or as somebody who, like Fuuta and Mahiru, is in a precarious mental state?

And that casts a really different light on what "having the other adults deal with Amane" is supposed to mean. Is it really about making her more able to cope with the situation? Or just getting her out of the way? If it's about helping her, why does it matter so much that the adults do it?

Say, Muu and Haruka are in the best physical and mental shape out of everybody, and they have plenty of free time. Since Haruka says they're "sticking close" to Shidou, why doesn't he take a moment to suggest they should try to spend a little time with her, make her feel a bit better? Even if they can't convince her to change her mind, it'd at least useful to know in more detail what she's planning, right? After all, Shidou is willing to put his utmost ideal (dying to atone for his sins) on hold for the sake of the injured prisoners. Surely he must be very concerned about anything that could threaten their care, right?

Even if you take is as meaning "Well, the adults have the duty to care for the younger ones, so everyone under eighteen is exempt for responsibility", it's kind of really weird to put all the responsibility on three people having their own mental and physical breakdowns (Mahiru, Mikoto and Fuuta), one guy who said re:Amane that "we can't worry about that now" and "We'll just wait until the situation changes" last time Shidou spoke to him, and who's carrying the weight of being the only line of defense against Kotoko (Kazui) and one woman who's already taking mental care of Mahiru and also doesn't seem to want to have anything to do with anyone else (Yuno). Does a few years of age really give you that much more capability, such that it outweighs everything else going on?

So the fact that Shidou takes the trouble of specifying that an adult ought to help Amane really sounds like he's, at best, blinded by ideology. Only adults can help Amane because only adults are capable of taking meaningful action on anything, and only they have real ideological commitments that can beat a child's silly whims. At worst, Shidou is annoyed that Amane is threatening his worldview of "adults act, children obey", so he wants somebody to step in and bring her back into line. Of course, that person has to be an adult if they're to truly reinforce his perspective instead of opening a different kind of hole into it.

And this is hardly the first time he dismisses a child's thoughts on the basis of their age. In Molech, when Es tells him to treat them with respect as the warden, Shidou's answer is essentially "But we DO have a big age difference, so everything else is irrelevant. Let me pat your head to show how much I pity you, total stranger who's already annoyed at me for being condescending". At this point, either Shidou is being deliberately obnoxious or he's so thoroughly drunk his own kool-aid that it doesn't even register on the shallowest level when a kid tells him not to do something. Kids just go agoo-goo until they hit eighteen, yeah? No need to listen to their babbling.

And it's not just Shidou treating Es as both warden and child, he doesn't seem to have any respect for their ability to form their own opinion as a warden either. He literally goes "Hey, why go through the trouble of actually looking at evidence? Just take me at my word, way easier and faster". Even though by this point it's also obvious how much pride Es takes on being the guard and carrying out Milgram's mission, and that they don't necessarily trust Shidou. Again, either mockery or a frightful failure of basic pattern-recognition when the pattern doesn't match what Shidou expects from a child.

And to tie this back to Shidou's "my heart goes out to you" comment, sure, he's so concerned about any mental toll being the warden might take on Es… But he's still insisting on being murdered by them. Why? Surely Shidou of all people would know that murder can be hard on the killer. And if he wanted to die so badly, surely he can wait until Milgram is over and kill himself then, right? No need to make it Es' responsibility.

One of his last lines in the VD is "I feel sorry that you had to be given this role. And, I truly apologise for being so insistent about sentencing me to death as well… But, you’re perfect. You’ll give me the ending I’m most suited for." So apparently the thing is that being murdered by a child, specifically, would be very satisfying to Shidou, and Es' pain is secondary to that.

Kinda undermines all that talk about how tragic the situation is, doesn't it? In one of the app conversations, we see him being overwhelmed by sadness while grading Amane's homework, and he says "If everything about MILGRAM is true… why did a child like you have to become a murderer? Just imagining what sort of circumstances must have led to that, it makes me so sad…". But apparently his sadness isn't so strong that it'll stop him from setting up that sort of circumstances.

The only way this makes sense to me if it's he's subsumed Es' choices into his own so utterly that he can't imagine anybody, not even Es, could possibly hold them responsible if they did kill Shidou. It was simply suicide with Es acting as a tool for it, no more guilty than a bullet. I'm sure you can see how utterly dismissive this is of Es' autonomy.

TL;DR: I'm sure Shidou loves the idea of children, but so far he's been severely lacking in empathy for actual children when they deviate from his concept of how they ought to be or when their wellbeing comes in conflict with his ideals.

[phoeebsbuffay]

Imagine “Star Wars” special edition: movies.

•Black, Red, Royal•

Imagine you and General Skywalker don’t get along at all, but for the sake of the Republic, you are forced to appear to work well together…Part II.

Warnings: based on “Red Blue Royal” movie.

Warnings 2: fluffy, light/comfort reading; bits of drama.

Warnings 3: *long* post.

***

• Anakin’s POV.

He is baffled by how all of suddenly you run away like that. Part of him is frustrated for your behavior, but another understands perfectly well.

From former rivals, you’ve begun to go further these lines. Friendship is not exactly what he aims now when it comes to you. And when reading your unspoken thoughts, he knows you are feeling the same.

But he is afraid of losing you as much as you are scared of knowing he is not loving anyone after the thing he had with Padmé Amidala ended… and not in the friendliest terms.

How could he tell you about her, how he was hurt by her actions? How could he tell you how intense he is? He wants to give all of him to you, knowing you deserve it, but damn… Anakin hesitates.

Watching you go is simply not enough, though. Specially now when is about to rain and the Jedi must not let you alone by any means. However, as he mounts his horse and rides after you, the male realizes he cannot live under shadows for so long. The idea of losing you is a weight he cannot bear.

Not anymore.

Anakin finds you after looking for your thoughts. The insecurities, the fears…sentiments he’s been familiar with come right to crush him. Because he knows he could dissipate them. But he never did.

You stupid moron.

Sighing heavily, it’s comical, when not tragic, this is the way he finds to love again. When seeing your fragility, displayed to no other’s eyes but his, he comes to his senses.

“Y/N…”

“You should not come over”, you tell him in defiance, refusing to look at him. “Go away, Anakin.”

“I am not”, the Jedi snaps back. “First of all, I cannot leave you like that: did you forget of your position? Second, would you please act in a more mature way and hear what I have to say?”

You may be proud, but not unreasonable. As you slowly turn, you find him standing right before you. Underneath some cork tree, you are oblivious to the storm forming not far from where you are.

“You are right. That was not proper of me to flee like that”, you admit it, though you avoid his eyes. “I just… I panicked. I’ve never been here, it’s an unknown path for me. All my life I’ve been taught to live by duty, to die for duty. But if duty must be the death of my liberty, of the way I think and feel, I am not prepared to be sacrificed. And there is another factor. I…”

You swallow hard, feeling your shoulders shake. Anakin, however, comprehends you more than you think. He soothes you, rubbing his hands around your arms before lifting your chin so your eyes meet.

“Don’t speak. I know. I understand… But if only had you not been so headstrong, woman”, he smiles and so do you. “I’ve been with Padmé Amidala for some while, yes, but we didn’t work out. She was the first woman I’ve loved and when we parted ways, I was really upset.”

That way, he opens up with you. When he does, Anakin sees you softening, listening attentively, at the same he can hear your thoughts, how sorry you feel for him.

By the time he ends, though, rain is already falling.

“Anakin… I’m really sorry.”

“So was I for a while. It has been some good years, I needed to move on”, he gently strokes your cheek. “Looks like I finally did.”

Your heart skips a beat and though you unconsciously draw your body closer to him, Anakin can still see insecurity playing behind your y/c eyes.

“I will not hurt you, love. I promise.”

You relax your shoulders before locking your arms around his neck. Ignoring the drops of rain that fall over your head, you tip toe before finally kissing his lips.

***

• Your POV.

When you get to the palace later, both of you are soaked. Thankfully there are not so many people there present to see the scene. Nonetheless, you are still all over him, never tired of kissing his lips.

“I love you”, you profess your sentiments ardently. “My general, my knight.”

He smiles at you. It is such a sight to behold, you make no effort in hiding how you feel. His blue eyes are so inviting…

“I love you, my princess”, he takes your hands and kisses each. “Thank you for bringing me back to life”.

It’s all good indeed. For now, though. After you part ways, there is a meeting happening. Not just after you come clean from your bath, now dressed in green, you are rushed to the main room. There, you are waited and judging by their grave faces, you expect the worse.

“General Grievous has landed here”, Anakin tells you with no ceremony. “You must go right away, my lady.”

“Go?”, you pale before the suggestion. “Go where? I cannot abandon my planet when my own position is weak!”

“There is no other option, Madame”, intrudes the Prime-Minister. “The Jedi is leading you to a safer place. General Rex staying to fight such an enemy.”

You exchange pained looks with Anakin, but he doesn’t show any emotion, a wise move you try to follow. But due to your reluctance, you are told:

“Madame, we need to preserve you. There is little to be gained under an attack. Maker forbid, but if Grievous takes you, we are no more. Your mere existence means resistance.”

“Very well, then. I will do what I can. Where should I go to?”, you ask cooly.

“We must leave right away”, says Anakin in a tone that doesn’t accept any argument. “I shall not leave any instructions to where we are going for obvious reasons. However, Rex is my right hand here. I am counting on you to gather the best men and delay Grievous as much as we can.”

“We won’t fail you, Sir”, says Rex.

What happens next is all too fast for you to process. You leave one lady in waiting behind so the poor woman is disguised as you to fool the enemy in case there is an invasion of the palace. All the whilst you are taken like a fugitive under a black cape to Anakin’s ship.

“We are doing for you and your planet”, Anakin breaks the tension as he carefully helps you going inside the ship. “Hence what I was designated for: to look after you.”

You agree, albeit reluctantly. Soon, you take your seat and wait as he starts to pilot away from all you’ve ever known.

***

• Anakin’s POV.

He doesn’t appreciate when you are silent. When you are quiet, nothing seems to fit well. He prefers to hear you babbling, speaking about nonsenses that having you staring out the window in sad contemplations.

Right after he told his master about the current situation of your planet, Anakin decides to make you chatty again. He thus chooses a topic that, although he hopes not to get you overly upset about it, will make you talk. And he does like to hear you talking.

Though since he stepped in planet Y/C, he already knew your background, the Jedi wants to hear from your point of view.

“So, what’s with the need of getting yourself married to preserve the crown?”, Anakin inquires, a smirk popping on his lips when perceiving he gets you smiling quietly. “I mean, do you have any suitors already?”

You sigh.

“I don’t know yet, to be honest with you. At least, where marriage is concerned I was permitted to choose my consort—as long it proves to be a decent choice”, you grimace. “My Council states I’m in the prime of my age so I must not take long to get married and produce an heir.”

“How so?”

It’s when you tell him about how you come up to the throne. Your parents descended from a long line of princes who always had a good relation with the Galactic Senate. However, when your father passed the throne to his eldest son, a civil war erupted—mostly because he married twice, and one son’s claims did not recognize the other’s. Whatever it was, the eldest was the victor and reigned for many years.

But when you were 15, the clonic wars had started and it did not take long before your brother went to fight it—only to get him killed in the process. You thus inherited his crown, and have been the princess since then.

Ten years have passed, but now there’s a growing concern that the royal lineage doesn’t die with you and is interrupted by moving to a distant cousin.

“I’m sorry about that”, Anakin muses. “It’s a lot of pressure to put on you.”

“I’ve been delegating these matters for a while, eventually aware this would come to surface”, you shrug.

“But what are your thoughts about marriage? Have you never fell in love with anybody?”

“I have, but they were not suitable choices”, you tell him rather peacefully. “They live in the past now.”

“But why weren’t they?”

You smile at his curiosity.

“They were not aristocratic enough.”

“Oh”.

“Oh indeed.”

You two share laughters. After that, Anakin felt compelled to talk about his relationship with Padmé in other perspectives. It feels good, he thinks, to speak about the past without feeling the weight of it.

“I hate to break the gossip moment”, says Anakin. “But we arrived.”

“Where are we?”, you inquire, eyeing lots of floresta and great buildings so different of what you are used to.

“Alderaan. The Organas allowed us spending some time here. They are not present at the moment, but left one royal residence for us to stay until the situation in your planet is resolved.”

Anakin notices you are anxious to get yourself comfortable and get to know the new surroundings, already feeling strange by it. Once he lands the ship and helps you out of it, he ensures to make you feel easy about it.

“Everything will be all right, princess. I am not letting you go. Do you trust in me?”

“I do”, you speak confidently, earning him a side smile.

“Good. I like your conviction.”

But before he leads you inside, Anakin feels his hand being pushed. He turns and smiles at you.

“Yes, love?”

“You are staying with me, aren’t you?”

Anakin knows what weights under your words, even if you are not entirely sure about them.

“Yes, darling. I will.”

Saying so, he kisses your forehead.

***

•Your POV.

You are too agitated to fall asleep. These are new chambers that you were allocated to, and as comfortable they are for someone of your rank, they are not yours. The bed and the sheet are different.

You glance up at the white ceiling, thoughts running in the back of your mind. You don’t wish to feel rude or ungrateful, but homesick is a heavy burden that takes your sleep away. Specially when you remember all too well when your brothers fought one another and in short period of time they died, leaving you alone in this world.

You had your ladies, most of whom had served your mother and played a maternal figure to you, but they are gone. You had your political council, but are they trustworthy?

You turn in your bed again and again. Then you decide to see whether Anakin is awake: his bedchamber is close to yours, linked by one door and a small corridor. You tiptoe discreetly, sliding in and ensuring no sound is heard when…

“I know you are there, Y/Nickname”, his voice startles you. “There is no need to be discreet. I’m wide awake.”

As you enter his quarters, you find him dressed in pajamas with a hologram in his hand and a book in another. Upon the look of confusion evident in your face, he explains:

“There was a book left here for my leisure and since I couldn’t sleep, I went for it.”

“What about the hologram in your hands, though?”, you ask, leaning against the wall as your eyes scan him.

Anakin’s hair is growing and there are some curls already dropping in the back of his neck, giving you a sight to behold. His eyes show some tiredness, but you can spot the restlessness too. Yet when he side smiles at you, you are pretty sure your knees go weak.

“My Master called me a few minutes ago and we catched up a little.”

“How’s Ahsoka? Is she the one mentored by you?”

“She is, she is. Now, Y/N. Why are you up, standing there?” Anakin pats a seat next to his side and you easily obey him. “Couldn’t you sleep yourself?”

“No, for some strange reason, I couldn’t”, you say. “There are so many things going in the back of my mind…”

He puts an arm around your shoulders, rubbing your arm gently before saying:

“This will pass. All of this, I’ll be sure of it.”

You side smile at him, avoiding his gaze for unknown motive.

“Yes, but I’m scared of what’s happening after it ends.”

“Look at me, princess”.

He lifts your face, making sure you do as said. When you contemplate those blue eyes staring into your y/c ones, you feel instantly drowned, pulled magnetically towards him. Slowly, you turn all of you to him, so one stays in front of the other.

“I love you. I will not let go of you, regardless of how this ends”, Anakin vows it firmly, sounding more possessive than he likes to admit.

As much as you enjoy it, you cannot deny the facts that you are forced to expose:

“But Ani, I am expected to…”

“To be married to someone of a good rank, I know.” His smile spreads. “I told you, Y/N, I am not letting go of you.”

Your face goes instantly pink at what he’s leaving subtle.

“Ani, you cannot possibly be serious.”

“I am”, he assures you, smiling widely. “I should be more romantic, but current situation prevents me so. On that aspect, Y/N, princess of Y/C, would you accept to be my wife?”

***

• Anakin’s POV.

When the time is due, he awaits at the aisle with Senator Organa by his side. It’s a small, very discreet ceremony with no pomp whatsoever. He is dressing sober robes, heart racing at the thought of seeing you.

No, not only seeing you, but making you his wife. Mrs Skywalker. It has a ring to it, he secretively smiles at himself for it. Indeed it is a ceremony that not even Obi-Wan is aware of—certainly he’d be judged for his bold moves in daring to espouse you, but there is the particular detail about Jedis being forbidden of forming romantic attachments.

Since Padmé, this is a rule that has not been applied to him correctly. But it’s been properly broken when you tamed his heart, when you got all the pieces and joint them together again.

So he waits, anxiously so. The Jedi rewinds in the back of his mind the moment Organa encouraged him to pursue the true delights only a genuine love would provide him after witnessing the way Anakin looked at you.

“We live in days of war, young man. You don’t want to collect any regrets.”

It’s been an incredible journey that got you this far. Who could’ve thought that he’d get married to this one woman whom he once found annoying? A smile curls upon his lips at the memory.

Then his mind goes completely blank when you finally come to his sight, dressed in white with pearls in pink, long veil falling from your head and lightly covering your face. Bail’s wife leads you to him, but from the moment you are there, everyone else is instantly forgotten.

“My love, you look like an angel.” He whispers when greeting you with a soft kiss pressed upon your wrist. “From the moment I saw you, I somehow knew I’d be redeemed from my sins.”

He smiles wide when seeing his words affect you, your eyes going to the hands now interlocked as a blush colors your cheeks.

“Oh Ani, you always succeed in making me speechless.” And when you rise your eyes, Anakin sees nothing but love in them, which makes him beam. “I love you.”

“And I, you.”

As the priest clears his throat, you are reminded that the ceremony awaits to carry on. Anakin smiles and you smile back. But it would take so little time before he is finally able to profess his vows as you do yours, thus making you husband and wife.

*

Finally, there’s this moment where it’s only you and him. No witnesses, no festivities nor concerns. Privacy at last. He comes to you, leading all the way. Suddenly, Anakin senses your unspoken fears. He knows what you are feeling, so carefully he turns at you and says:

"There is no need to be so anxious, darling. I am as yours as you are mine."

Your shoulders instantly relax upon his words, which pleases Anakin. He gently pulls you towards him, charming with his smile that has always melted you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”, he whispers at you, holding you like he’s conducting in a dance.

“I love you”, you speak with a hint of genuine innocence that warms his heart. “Truthfully I do.”

Anakin knows his heart is completely mended when he says:

“As I love you, dear heart.”

He rests his forehead against yours, arms snaking around your waist. The balance is thus felt…

***

• Your POV.

But blissfulness can only last for a few moments. Your planet has been under attack, and though you are saved, the news leave you greatly distressed. The worst is that there is little you can do. As Obi-Wan himself, your husband’s Master, told you, your life means resistance against the Separatists so you ought to be preserved at every cost.

However, you remain now under the care of Anakin’s apprentice, Ahsoka, specially because he’s been called to war.

The depart is, of course, too painful to endure.

“Don’t leave me alone in this world”, you whisper, not minding Ahsoka’s epic raise of eyebrows at how publicly you display affections to Anakin.

He too cares very little in hiding when news by now have reached Obi-Wan’a knowledge—but he does attempt to keep the Order in ignorance for the sake of Anakin… and you.

“I will not, this I promise you, dear heart.”

That being said, he kisses you.

“Ugh”, you both hear Ahsoka say. “Get yourselves a room.”

*

It is an unending anxious process to wait. Hours never seem to pass, and despite growing very fond to Ahsoka, as pleasant as her company is, your mind never ceases to torment you with possibilities that your husband might not return.

The waiting, however, comes to an end as soon as the door is abruptly opened. To your great joy, and certainly a relief for Ahsoka, Anakin Skywalker comes back to your arms.

***

Epilogue.

When looking at your twins, sleeping soundly as if they are two innocent beings, Anakin, holding you close, speaks:

“I bet the princess is giving me trouble like her mother.”

You giggle sillily, rubbing your nose against his neck.

“Oh, please. When do I ever troubled you?”

Anakin shoots an arrogant, smug look.

“Angel, when haven’t I been worried over you?”

“You fuss too much over me, honey”, you smile back at him.

“Looks like I have three to come…”

“A possible four”, you add mysteriously, making him beam.

“I’ve always wanted a big family”, Anakin admits when carefully holding Leia and you hold Luke. “Thank you, Y/Nickname. You are truly an Angel sent from above.”

You blush deep at how affectionate he sounds. Leaning your head against his shoulder, the scenario couldn’t have been other.

There is peace, you are restored to your crown, the dynasty is going to carry on with your children and your husband is next to you. What’s more, you are beloved and adored by your subjects and the family you’ve always wanted to preserve is growing…

“I love you, Ani. You complete me in every possible way. It is I the one to thank you for bringing the balance to my life.”

One look you exchange together and a kiss comes to seal every unspoken vow. The happily ever after you and Anakin sought is finally here.

[slytherinshua]

KISS AND MAKE UP

genre. fluff. angst. hurt/comfort ig. warnings. crying. fighting. kissing. pairing. fiancé!sejun x fem!reader. wc. 1.4k. request. requested by @nyukyujs: arguing over the phone and you end up crying which makes lim sejun rush over to your place. a/n. the victon brainrot is back folks... what if sejun was my bias (skdjsk IM JOKING IM JOKING)

“How am I supposed to know when you don’t communicate, Sejun?! I scheduled the date for tonight 2 weeks ago! You didn’t say a word about extra practices until 10 minutes ago! I thought you’d be home an hour ago.” You yelled through the phone. You were getting frustrated with the situation, which was unfortunately translating into bursting out at your fiance. This didn’t happen often with Sejun, but it had started to happen more and more recently, and you hated it. Usually he was good with his schedule. Things hadn’t popped up out of nowhere like this in 2 years. You weren’t sure why you were unable to handle it right now.

You heard a tired sigh from the other side of the phone, “I don’t know what you want me to do, Y/n. The guys are waiting for me.” He sounded annoyed. In the back of your head, you knew he had every right to be.

You had texted him after you had gotten ready for the date, asking when he would get home. The week had been extremely busy for him, and the date that you had so carefully planned had completely slipped his mind. Extra dance practices and song recording sessions were scheduled for the entire night. You knew that Sejun couldn’t just drop them to go on a silly dinner date with you.

“If you had just said something yesterday then I could’ve cancelled the reservations! I’m already at the restaurant.” You gulped down an uncomfortable itch in your throat. Your nose burned and you knew that tears would be next. Fighting with Sejun was hands down your least favourite activity. You wanted to sink into the ground and never come up again.

“Did you see how fucking tired I was yesterday!? I barely had energy to take a shower before bed!” His response rang in your ear uncomfortably and you let out a shaky sigh. He was right. Of course he was right. You were being unreasonable for expecting this date to happen after his busy schedule all week.

“I… I don’t know, Sejun.” You mumbled, breaking down a little. You tried to hide your shaky breath and sniffles, but you were sure he caught onto them. “I missed you so much— I just wanted tonight to be for us.” You choked out, a sob ringing through the air. You had already hailed a cab amidst your tears. You just wanted to get home as quickly as possible. There was no use waiting at the restaurant when your fiance would be a no-show.

“Are you crying, Y/n?” This question came a little softer than the previous ones. The sound of your sniffles must have been enough to alert him to your distress. You cried pretty easily, and Sejun was used to it— but he could definitely decipher when the situation was serious.

Though he wasn’t sure if you knew or not, he was worried about you. How could he not be? He hadn’t really been able to spend time with you for days on end; and for two people whose relationship 70% of the time consisted of clinging to each other, he had felt the toll as much as you had. You said you missed him, and he missed you as well. So, so much.

The question— the worry in his voice— had you crying even harder. You still tried to keep it quiet for the sake of the taxi driver, but you didn’t hide it from Sejun. You held the phone up to your ear, squishing it right against your skin.

“Please talk to me. Please.” You whispered through broken sobs, yearning to hear his voice calming you down instead of yelling at you.

“Baby.” He spoke through the phone immediately, ignoring Byungchan’s questions about what was taking so long from the other room. You realized it had been too long since he had last called you that. Just him saying that much was enough to get your breathing more even.

“You know I care about you more than this stupid practice, right? I’m gonna be there as soon as I can.” You heard a door shut and some keys clash against each other.

“No- Sejun, it’s fine, you should stay at practice.” You urged, suddenly panicked that you had made a big deal out of things when you shouldn’t have.

“I’ll make it up later. I’ll be okay. Just wanna be back with you right now.” He reassured you. You didn’t have the energy to fight with him again— just wanting to agree to anything and everything he suggested. So you found yourself humming, mumbling an “I love you” and an “I’ll see you soon” to him.

Sejun arrived home soon after you did, and he wrapped his arms around you as soon as he walked through the door. With your face buried in his chest, arms wrapped around his waist and his around your shoulders, you finally felt relaxed. He rubbed his hand up and down your back, soothing you further. 

“My sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” He whispered, kissing your forehead gently. You looked up at him, eyes shiny still from crying earlier. The way he looked down at you, worry and sorry and love all swimming in his eyes, you felt like you could drown if you looked at him for a second longer. You weren’t sure how he looked so pretty. He had been working hard all day, and rushed over as soon as he heard you crying. You probably looked like a mess beside him. As if he could hear your negative thoughts, he hugged you closer and whispered in your ear.

“You look so gorgeous, angel.” The whisper was soft, a little bit raspy from his spent vocal cords having recorded almost all week; but it was sincere. You knew that he could never be disingenuous with you when you were the most precious thing in his life, and your heart still raced a little faster knowing that he found you attractive.

He found you attractive despite the mascara stains near your eyes, despite your hair that you haphazardly took down as soon as you arrived home. He thought you were gorgeous even though you had changed out of your black dress and into sweats.

Though you knew he was being serious, the thought still made you laugh. A quiet giggle escaped your throat, triggering Sejun’s heartier laughter. The sound made his heart leap, and again, he squeezed you just a bit tighter, rocking you back and forth in his arms like you were the most precious thing.

“What do you want to do tonight? The dinner date failed.” You asked.

Sejun hummed, “I think we should order in. I should take a shower and get dressed all cozy like you so that we can cuddle. And then we should look through your Pinterest board for wedding dresses. But first…”

“First?”

“First I’m going to kiss you.” He completed with a contented smile, leaning down quickly to fulfil his wish. Your lips tasted as soft and sweet as ever, and Sejun practically melted at the feeling after being deprived of it for so long. It really had been days since he had kissed you properly— not a fleeting peck on your lips, but something longer and sweeter. Something more vulnerable and precious. Something that left you both breathless and euphoric when it was over— a kiss that he wished would never end because he knew nothing felt better than your lips on his. 

And that was exactly what he got, as you were just as eager to feel him so close after so long. Your hands slipped into his hair, feeling the long strands flow through your fingers. You sighed when he squeezed your hip gently, a smile creeping onto his lips at the elated feeling in his chest.

You pulled him as close to you as possible, in hopes that he would never leave the position. And he didn’t want to; but he didn’t have a choice. He was running out of breath, and he was sure that you were just as worse, having a smaller lung capacity than he did. He compensated the kiss ending by cradling your head and placing several smaller kisses to the top of it.

“I love you so much.” He confessed— probably for the millionth time since he had met you.

You giggled, still catching your breath, “I know. I love you too. Let’s complete that plan you had now, hm?”

He hummed happily in response, pecking your lips one more time before grabbing a towel for a quick shower.

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