#it's all a comfort and I'm going to clutch it to my chest and Survive god damn it

[midnightwind]

woke up with a headache and have felt like exhausted and meh all day and wondering why

fully forgot today was essentially National Background Radiation Day

[pochipop]

＃HOMICIPHER !! ♡ — DWELLING, ROTTING, SURVIVING (MR CRAWLING X READER).

#. synopsis! — speaking isn't the only way to understand, and he's oh so gentle .

#. characters! — mr crawling .

#. warnings! — canon-typical dark content + setting .

#. word count! — 1.7k .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @hhoneypop (moodboards) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

#. a/n! — hi, i posted, please stop bullying me in my inbox :(( - all jokes aside, thank you guys for all the nice messages and compliments! & happy pride to my lgbt followers! funnily enough, don't think i've ever "come out" on this blog, but if it's not obvious, i'm bisexual lol so there's that!

You found yourself pressed against a cold, damp wall in what you could only assume was a room close to the belly of this labyrinth-like building. Breaths came in shallow, frightened gasps as the lights overhead flickered ominously, like they were trying to warn you of impending danger. . . Danger that you felt sting your chest like needles poking through your skin. The oppressive silence surrounding you was broken only by your intakes of air and the soft, almost imperceptible sound of something —or someone— (or maybe a mixture of the two, in this God-forsaken place) nearby.

Squinting into the gloom, a familiar shape emerged from the dark hallway, slipping into the room with you and pausing in the doorway. You felt relief take hold of you.

Mr Crawling. . .

That, of course, likely wasn’t his real name, but you didn’t speak in the language of clicks, noises, and chirp-like sounds that he did, and he didn’t speak with your tongue either. It was for that reason in particular that you’d bludgeoned his head with a crowbar not long ago, to which he sulked in a corner, bleeding and whining, and you were left to feel terrible for hurting the first entity that had tried to go out of his way to show you true empathy in a way you understood.

Apologizing didn’t even begin to feel like enough. Probably because you were at least ninety percent sure he didn’t understand what you were saying anyway. Helping him with the wound perhaps made it slightly better. . . But also not really, because even now as he skims across the ground to where you are, there’s a sense of guilt that weighs heavy on your heart.

Pale, grey-skinned and moving like any non-human mammal of sorts, his face is mostly obscured by the long, stringy black hair that falls in vine-like, clumped strands all the way to the floor from his hunched position. There’s an unsettling, animalistic grace to the way he approaches, but you don’t flinch this time when he puts the flat of his cold palm against the crown of your head, as if trying to soothe your breathing. All of that initial fear has been replaced by a strange comfort of sorts, and you look up at him, thankful for his presence now more than ever.

He tilts his head, as if listening for something, and you watch him warily with the same crowbar clutched in your fist. A part of you felt bad carrying it around like that with his blood still smeared on it, but here, you knew it was foolish to venture around without a weapon of some sort. Not protecting yourself for the sake of his feelings was, unfortunately, not an option as far as you were concerned, but thankfully he didn’t seem to have any opinion on the matter.

“Mr Crawling,” you whisper softly, reaching out to take his hand into your own.

He seemed to really respond to physical touch, and if language was always going to get in the way, you figured it was best to bridge the gap in another manner. This was the next best thing you could think of.

His head raises, and you suppose he’s trying to meet your gaze, though you can’t see his eyes through the mess of his hair.

“I need to understand you,” you say.

Ironically, that’s a bit of a hopeless endeavor in this sort of environment. It’s not like you have all the time in the world to pick up a new, completely unrelated language to yours while fighting for your life. Still. . . Gesturing had been helpful previously, especially for directions. The hooded figure you ran into first was quick to point around, that severed hand that had guided you for a bit was just as poignant in that area, and the silver-haired entity with a blindfold over his eyes had also tried to communicate with you in that sense as well. So why couldn’t you do it vice-versa?

“Me,” you point to yourself, “you,” you point to him.

He stared blankly for a moment, then seemed to come to an understanding. His had retracted from your head to point at himself, then to you, a clicking noise coming from the back of his throat. You smile. It was a small victory amongst a series of devastating losses, but you were keen on taking it and running with it as far as you could stretch it.

“Okay,” you breathe, talking more to yourself than to him. “Let’s try this then. . .”

Feeling a surge of determination, you touch your stomach and then mime eating.

“Hungry. Eat.”

At this point, you were still too anxious to have an appetite, but you knew you’d need food eventually. You were hoping he’d be able to help you with that somehow. Up until this point, you hadn’t seen any evidence of there being food around here, —no containers, boxes, or wrappings, but he seemed to understand your gestures and mimicked you; sitting back on his knees to rub his stomach through his filthy t-shirt, then nibbling on an imaginary item.

He looks back to you, as if seeking approval. You smile, hoping he understands that to be a sign of good will, then nod your head to drive home the association. Beneath his swath of hair, he smiles too, and you catch a glimpse of his eyes through the curtain of black strands; dark and thoughtful.

“Good,” you murmur, feeling slightly relieved. 

If nothing else, this was progress. You spend a while longer trying to communicate basic needs and warnings: things like yes, no, stop, come, drinking, sleeping, and a thank you in the way of patting his head. You’re not sure he understood the depth of it by any means, but he did seem to enjoy it. . . Like a puppy. The thought made you smile genuinely and absentmindedly, if only for a moment. The clicks and chirps he makes are mostly lost on you, but the noises are comforting nonetheless. This rudimentary bridge of understanding soothes you just a little, and you find yourself feeling very thankful that he’s here in the first place.

He has your face cupped in his hands now, as if he’s inspecting you. . . Or perhaps admiring? That is, until you feel his body tense and all his little sounds abruptly come to a halt. A small growl reverberates from the back of his throat and his wide smile droops into a frown. Suddenly, he’s roughly dragging you along, tugging urgently on your arms, to which you comply and follow along with him, scooting across the floor until you reach a shadowed alcove. You hadn’t even noticed it before, but he seems to know his way around this place like the back of his cold, grey hand.

He covers your mouth for a moment, then shakes his head. You cover your mouth, take your hand away, then shake your head no, just to ensure to him that you’ve understood. He pats your head then crouches in front of you, using his own body as a makeshift shield for yours. His long, spindly arms cage you against the wall. Fear rises inside you once again, though not because of him and his actions. Rather, the faint, rhythmic thuds of footsteps have begun reverberating through the hall just outside, and you recognize the harrowing pattern they click in.

Mr Scarletella.

You encountered him once before and felt every hair on your body stand on end. The way he moved through the halls with a menacing flow that sounded almost eerily melodic, and the strange, unsettling red glow that seemed to exude off him that nearly drew you in like a moth to a flame. The steps echoed off the walls of the building and your heart began to hammer against your ribs. Mr Crawling moved closer as he came into view through the doorway that lacked any actual door to close, his long, black hair tickling your nose ever so softly. Dressed in scarlet and carrying his ever-present umbrella, you decide quite readily that you’ve seen enough, closing your eyes and focusing on the cool feel of Mr Crawling’s skin, on his musky scent (like mildew and a bit of rot, which isn’t necessarily pleasant, but it’s not like he can really help it down here.)

Though you’re no longer watching, the entity dripping in scarlet moves with an unsettling, almost predatory grace, glancing about the corridors as if he’s searching for something. Or someone.

Once again, Mr Crawling presses closer to you. Now, you’re able to feel the way his body trembles with fear, and you realize that he’s just as terrified as you are, though you can’t tell if that fear is for himself, for you, or for both of you at once. And it’s not like you can ask. Still, you open your eyes just long enough to look up at him, Mr Scarletella in your peripheral as you force a smile and touch the crown of Mr Crawling’s head, offering what little comfort you can. He still quivers, but seems to appreciate the gesture, though he doesn’t risk a happy chirp.

The danger passes as the man in scarlet disappears down the hallway, then turns the corner. You let out a silent sigh of relief and Mr Crawling relaxes after several moments of continued tension, finally going limp and releasing you from against the wall. He slumps onto his knees, which seems to be his most comfortable position, and he looks at you clearly through the darkness. In that moment, it feels like you’ve understood one another perfectly. 

“Thank you,” you whisper sincerely, though you know he can’t really understand you.

You’re just hoping the gratitude comes across somehow, but at the risk that it won’t, you touch your chest over top of where your heart’s still beating like a drum, then touch his chest in the same place. It dawns on you that you don’t feel a heartbeat at all, and you almost pull your hand away. . . But something stops you. Something that says even if you’re right and he’s something less (or more) than human, —it doesn’t matter as much as the kindness he’s shown you. So your hand lingers until you softly pull away.

He grabs your cheeks again and holds them delicately.

[mixolya]

heyy! don’t know if you write for yukimiya, if you don’t it’s completely fine, but could i maybe ask for yukimiya, alongside sae, and otoya (including anyone else you want if you feel up to it!) when reader is on their period? Idk if this is an uncomfortable topic and i geniunely apologize if it is. you can ignore this! thanks so much anyway, i wish the best for you ^^

ᓚᘏᗢ — blue lock: when it hurts, they stay !

synopsis: period pains were never fun, but being taken care of by boys who loved you made it just a little easier to breathe.

yukimiya kenyu, sae itoshi, otoya eita x reader (separate) ⭑ fluff / comfort + likes & reblogs are appreciated <3

note: hi!! thank you sm for your request and it isn't an uncomfortable topic for me dw <3 i hopeee this is good enough hahaha i never wrote for yukimiya & otoya BUTTT i tried

— yukimiya kenyu

it started with a text.

y/n 🩷: i want to rip my uterus out 😃

thirty minutes later, a knock echoed at your door, and there stood yukimiya, hair still slightly mussed from morning training, wearing his favorite beige coat and holding a tote bag full of survival supplies like he was on a mission.

"emergency delivery," he said softly, offering you a gentle smile that was tinged with concern.

you opened the door wider, wincing as another cramp rolled through your stomach. "i didn't mean for you to actually come..."

"i know," he murmured, stepping inside anyway. "but you sounded like you needed someone."

he moved with quiet care, setting down everything he brought. ginger tea. painkillers. a soft pair of fuzzy socks, pink with little white hearts. your favorite chocolate. a heating pad. even a tiny stuffed bear wearing a sweater.

"is that banana bread?" you asked, blinking.

he looked sheepish. "i tried to bake. had a bit of help. but i stirred the batter."

your stomach twisted. not from the cramps but from the way your heart felt suddenly too full. you shuffled forward, leaned your head against his chest and let yourself breathe in the calm he always brought with him. he smelled like soft cologne and warmth.

"thank you," you whispered.

"always," he said, arms wrapping around you like he'd been waiting all day to do that. "now sit down. eat something. yell at me if you want."

you did all three.

and he stayed, tucked you under his arms on the couch, listened as you complained about your uterus, your cravings, the universe. he didn't try to fix anything, just held you like it was enough.

and it was.

— sae itoshi

sae didn't ask what was wrong, he just knew.

you came home grumpy, sluggish, arms wrapped protectively around your stomach as if that would lessen the betrayal. you dropped your bag at the door, collapsed face-first into bed and groaned.

sae quietly closed his laptop. a moment later, you felt his hand on your back, rubbing slow, even circles through the blanket.

you peeked up, barely. "i'm dying."

"no," he said, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face. "you're bleeding. big difference."

you scowled. he almost smiled, just a twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"do you want food?"

"..yes. and you. and the heating pad. and maybe death."

"i'll do three out of four."

he returned fifteen minutes later with warm food, a heating pad and your comfort show already playing. you blinked at him in disbelief.

"i thought you hated this show."

"i do," he said, sliding into bed beside you. "but i love you."

you curled into his side, clutching at the hoodie he was wearing (which was technically yours) and blinked hard against the sudden sting in your eyes.

later, as the world faded around you and sleep crept in, you heard him whisper against your hair, "if i could take the pain for you, i would."

he didn't expect a response, but your fingers squeezed his just a little tighter.

— otoya eita

otoya knew something was off the moment your text came in.

y/n 💫: my body is actively trying to kill me y/n 💫: if i go missing, avenge me

he did not reply. wow, rude!!

instead, twenty-five minutes later, your doorbell rang, and when you opened it, he stood there with a smug grin, a bag of takeout in one hand and a heat patch in the other.

"your knight in shining hoodie has arrived," he said, cocking a brow. "or should i say, knight in emotional support and grilled cheese?"

you blinked, still in your pajamas, clutching a pillow to your chest. "you didn't have to-"

"i wanted to," he cut in, stepping inside like he'd done it a thousand times. "also, you get super cute when you're in pain."

you glared at him.

he winked.

but behind the teasing, his eyes were careful, watching you, checking how you walked slightly slower, hunched over. he set everything down, then gently tugged you toward the couch.

"lay down. i'll warm the heating pad and feed you like royalty."

"are you always this dramatic?"

"when it's you?" he grinned. "yeah."

he made good on his word, adjusting the heating pad to your lower back, tucking the blanket around your legs with surprising tenderness and handing you a grilled cheese like ht was some divine offering.

"see?" he said, sitting beside you and resting his arm across the back of the couch. "being babied by me isn't so bad."

"you're so annoying," you mumbled, taking a bite.

"and yet, you texted me instead of dying alone."

you rolled your eyes. but when a particularly sharp cramp made you shift and whimper, otoya's teasing faded.

"hey," he said, voice softer now. "you okay?"

you nodded.

he didn't say anything for a moment, then leaned in and pressed a light kiss to your temple.

“if i could punch your uterus, i would.”

that made you laugh. and it made something ache in your chest too.

because beneath the jokes and flirty smiles, otoya eita always showed up when it mattered.

and when your head dropped onto his shoulder not long after, he didn’t move. just let you stay there, humming a soft tune under his breath while his fingers threaded through your hair.

© mixolya 2025. do not copy, remake or edit any of my works.

[aurorasgate]

homecoming tears caleb x reader

my little take on calebs return because i'm too much of a baby to not have cried a lot more over it. hurt/comfort, mentions of grief, no pronouns used for reader

there’s a ringing in your ears, loud and as unsteady as the heart beating inside your chest like a drum. both of which are somewhere between too uncomfortable to be a dream and the start of a nightmare in the making. if you could think straight, calm down only a little bit, you’d have the thought to pinch yourself to wake you or tell you how real this all is. that it isn’t just your mind playing tricks on you and caleb really is right in front of you, alive and well and not going to disappear when - if - you wake up.

it continues as you go through the motions of gathering your things from the fleets barracks and follow him to his car where he helps you inside with a kind and familiar smile, one you know is meant to help calm you, until the sound makes your head ache and you reach out for calebs hand on the center console that separates you, hoping that feeling him will help ground you. it does and doesn’t. because yes, you know the warmth seeping into your palm from his soft skin, it’s your caleb who looks back at you with violet eyes that were engraved into your very soul many years ago, but for so long you’ve known you would never seen them again, never feel him again, and find it hard to quell the mix of shock that those things aren’t true any longer and the grief of losing him that has held you tightly in it’s claws since the explosion. 

his mouth moves but you can’t quite make out what he’s saying. it’s not until you feel his hand envelop yours and at the sound of your name from his lips that the ringing finally starts to lessen and his voice breaks through. “just hold on a little longer okay? we’re almost home.”

home. you haven’t had a home you two shared together in so long. no place to return to where there would be reminders he had been there too, that he would be coming back. you’d thought you never would again.

your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth and makes it hard to reply so you don’t say a word and instead take the sliver of reprieve he had given you from your head and heart ache to try to make sense of any of this, to tell yourself this isn’t a dream or a mirage and that from now on, each day you wake up, he’ll still be here with you. 

caleb survived. this whole time he’s been alive while you mourned at his grave to a point where you thought the pain of it might swallow you whole and that regret had become a permanent part of you knowing you would never get the chance to tell him how you really feel for him, to do all the things you hadn’t let yourself before. there’s so many questions sitting at the back of your throat and the bottom of your heart, so many things you don’t know how to begin to process; a clash of undeniable happiness, the healing of wounds and the way they start to bleed again until the point of pain and confusion.

your motions are little more than robotic as you get out of the car and walk behind him into the place he had called home but couldn’t be more unfamiliar to you. when you see how dark it is, barren of things you’d have thought he’d still own, you wonder how unfamiliar it might be to him too. 

standing only a few feet from the door that had closed automatically behind you, you hold your bag of things close to your chest while caleb turns on the lights. like they are the only things grounding you and keeping you from crumbling into a million tiny pieces but you don’t know how long they’ll be able to keep you together.

“go ahead and pick a room pipsqueak,” he says, setting his keys down on the kitchen counter that looks like maybe it’s never been used before but when he notices you haven’t moved from the front entryway, his tone quickly changes. “hey,” soft and comforting but it does nothing to help you right now. “what's wrong?”

clutching your bag tighter till the lumps and straps of it could imprint themselves on your skin through your clothes, you meet his worried gaze and swallow the heaviness weighing down your words. “caleb.. i..” your voice is shaky at best, a perfect symbol for the feelings swirling inside you like a tempest. “i just can’t believe you're here.. alive.”

he closes the distance between you in a few long strides and reaches out for you, cupping your cheek in his palm. he’s warm, so warm, his hand calloused and large like you had remembered it. like you worried you might forget one day when so much time had passed without him. “i’m here,” a promise said with so much certainty. “and i’m not going anywhere ever again.”

tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a start of the release of the tremendous storm from within you finally manifesting into something tangible, something that you would have even less control over now that it’s pouring out of you in unruly waves and a downpour that first looks like a like drizzle. a few tears quickly turn into dozens more that caleb wouldn’t be able to catch or stop. not now. it’s consuming you, helping you to speak but with no chance to think or process your words before they’re tumbling out of your mouth and your body quickly follows suit.

“why caleb - why didn’t you come find me sooner?” dropping your bag, it lands on the tips of your toes the same moment your balled up fist meets calebs chest. you’re a sobbing mess in the matter of moments, looking at him through teary vision and speaking with so much pain behind your words you feel the ache of them reverberate back into your chest, ready to take you under and drown you in them. “would i have ever known if i haven’t snuck into the fleet? or would you have just left me to mourn over you forever while you got to play colonel?!”

he looks as afflicted as you feel but still in control of his emotions, more than you could possibly try to muster right now. “it’s more complicated than that. i had to join the fleet and i couldn’t contact you - couldn’t bear to put you through that pain again.”

“you don’t know anything about my pain caleb!” you spit the words like venom and you can see in his expression, in the way his hand on your face twitches, how much they affect him. “you have no idea how many times i wished for this all to be a bad dream.. to wake up and have you still be with me but instead woke up to the agony of you very much being dead. you have no idea how many times i went to your grave and could barely stand to leave because it’s as close to you as i thought i was ever going to be!” you try to push away from him, using your hand on his chest to shove him away and your other to remove his touch from your face. he doesn’t budge so easily, instead wrapping an arm around your waist to bring you closer and continuing to wipe your tears. “let me go!”

“no,” he replies, so full of understanding and care and you don’t know if it’s making it better or worse. he couldn’t possibly let you go, doesn’t think it’s within his strength to do so. it never has been before. his chest has always hurt when you’d cry and being the one to bring you to tears is what he loathes the most but it would never stop him from trying to comfort you or wiping away your tears. “not right now. not when you need me.”

“ha!” it's a pitiful and angry sound, a perfect mirror to how you feel about yourself right now. “where were you all these months i needed you then?! when i was crying just like this because i thought i’d never get to see you again?” you try again to get away from him, you can’t breathe or think straight, can’t do anything but crumble in the face of this storm but caleb doesn’t let you go far. doesn’t let you drown. “how can you so easily come back and act like i haven’t spent every moment in pain over the fact i thought you were gone forever?!” both of your hands are on his chest now. he doesn’t flinch at the force of them or try to remove them and before you know it, through your sobbing and weakening body, they’re clinging to him like a lifeline. you bury your face into his chest, his shirt quickly becoming soaked in your tears and snot, wrinkling under your tight hold.

caleb says your name softly, his hand cradling the back of your skull and keeping you pressed against him. “it was painful for me to be away from you too.” more than he could handle, worse than what he’d experienced before in any physical sense. 

“it’s not the same..” you hide behind the pillar of strength he’s offering you, let the storm rage and crash against him while tucked into the safe place of his arms as exhaustion starts to replace every other thing you had been feeling up until this point with the help of his embrace around you and the familiar scent of him invading your senses. this is real. he’s really here and he promised he wouldn’t leave you again.. “at least you knew i was alive - knew you could see me again if you really wanted..”

he holds you tighter then, his lips pressing in the crown of your head. he knows it's not the same but he also thought he was sparring you more pain by staying away, no matter how difficult that was for him. “you have no idea how badly i wanted to see you.” his hold is almost too tight now but you welcome it, want more of it. “it was agony to be away from you and hide this from you.”

“caleb..” you bury yourself further into him. everything hurts; your body, your heart, your head and somehow he is the soothing balm that makes it all better and the very source of it to begin with. you want to press him more, want to know everything that has happened to him while you’ve been apart but as you weep like a child in his arms, the words are lost and all you can do is hold on to him like your life depends on it. like he might disappear again if you were to let go.

you don’t know how much time passes before you’re being swept up off your feet, cradled against his chest and safely in his arms with your own so quickly and tightly wrapping around his neck to keep him as close to you as possible. he doesn’t tease or complain about the mess you’ve made of his outfit or your tears that soak into the skin of his neck. caleb doesn’t say anything as he walks to the couch and settles down onto it, removing his arm from under your legs to reach for a blanket that he drapes over you before adjusting you on his lap and holding you within his complete embrace again.

your sobbing slowly turns to small hiccups and scattered tears rather than a downfall of them but you don’t let him go. you can’t let him go and wonder if perhaps he is feeling the same when his hold on you doesn’t waver for a moment and he doesn’t try to move from underneath you.

“what if..” your voice is so weak, quiet enough you wonder if he’ll hear you at all and not knowing if you ever want him to. “what if tomorrow comes and you’re not here? what if i’m just dreaming.. what if you die again..” how will i survive losing you twice..

his arms around you tighten, as if he’s trying to make you one with him, bury you in the safety and truth of his very chest, where his heart beats for you and could never leave you again. not before he’d bring down the whole planet and whisk you away to a new one where it could only be the two of you. “i’m not going anywhere ever again. nothing will keep me from you or tear us apart,” caleb answers quietly, as if not anything or anyone else in this world was meant to hear his words but you. “i will be here tomorrow and everyday after. i promise.”

“c-can we stay like this for now? please..”

a soothing hand smooths over your hair and like it was even possible, presses you closer to him. “we can stay here, like this, for as long as you need and when tomorrow comes, i’ll make you breakfast and hold you again. until you know it’s not a dream and can believe that i’m not going to leave you ever again.”

[cielito--lindo]

to be loved mexicanly...

☁️sero notices that you've been feeling more and more homesick lately and one of your posts gives him an idea... ☁️ fem!reader x sero hanta, latina!reader x latino!sero, fluff, guerita used as a term of endearment

"remind me why the fuck i'm about to spend a fortune in overseas shipping for some fucking...toy?!" bakugou growled at his friend.

"well one because you love me and, most importantly, you want me to be with y/n...the love of my life, the keeper of my heart, the air in my lungs.." if he could have cartoon heart eyes, sero would be sporting them proudly "and you have the most money...i'm serious dude, she's miserable. she wasn't able to go back home during break and she's starting to watch old novelas again...i can only take so much el fuego en la sangre."

"don't get me wrong, bro. like this is all super manly as hell, but i'm a little confused...the way to fix her is by buying her plushies of a pharmacist?" kirishima peered over his friend's shoulder to peek at his computer screen. "several different versions of said pharmacist?"

sero couldn't help but let out a sigh of annoyance "look, dr. simi is a national treasure back home, dudes." sero remembers when he first encountered dr. simi, he was around 4-5 and was going through a nasty cold, his mom took him with her to pick up some cold medicine and out in the wild he encounter something he could only chalk up to be a fever dream. a dr. simi having a dance battle with someone from the ciel water company...he could still feel the vibrations from speaker blasting daddy yankee's rompe. "he's like the hello kitty of mexico!"

his friends all gave him various looks of confusion and wary.

sigh. "look she posted a video of this girl getting a serenata and has reposted all these tiktoks about being loved mexicanly! bro, it's my perfect chance!"

"what does being loved mexicanly even mean? and why does it feel like a slur when i say it?" denki asked, his face scrunched up.

sero paused for a moment, trying to best to word his thoughts "it depends??? like the internet thinks that being loved mexicanly is like giant grandiose gestures; giant buff bare chested men on horseback with a mariachi in the background, type shit. but realistically, it's quiet affection, never questioning your devotion for each other because actions speak louder than words, it's showing up for the good and the bad times" there was a fond smile on the tape hero's face as memories of watching his own parents show their love for him and for each other. he vowed to one day show someone that same respect.

"bro.." kirishima's voice broke through his reverie, sero looked over to find the redhead and denki clutching each other with tears in their eyes "that's so fucking manly."

"yeah whatever" bakugou scoffed, trying to hide the fact that his own eyes were red rimmed. "add another one of those shits in the cart, i think i saw an all-might one i can get for shitty deku"

"no se como vivir sin ti!"

your head was barely poking out of her comforter, scrolling through your cousins' instagrams as teresa played in the background, you've seen the novela so many times, you could practically recite it. photos of your family at the beach, your mom making her famous aguachiles, your uncle tying up a pinata for the kids in the vencidad during christmas. your various cousins with their signifcant others

you knew that choosing to go to UA was going to be a hard decision and one you've never regretted, but during these moments where the rest of your classmates were able to go home during the holidays and be with their families; you were calculating 15 hour time differences just to be able to have a phone call with them.

"todo va estar bien, mijita!" your mom's voice tried to soothe your tears during your last call "eres fuerte! este sacrificio es para que puedas alcanzar tus sueños. serás el héroe de méxico algún día, te lo prometo!"

your heart yearned for home - you could've survived not going back home for the holidays this year if you had someone to survive it with, but even then it just made your heart hurt more.

another round of tears started to flow down your cheeks as your buried yourself further into your blanket cave.

knock knock "y/n? you in there?"

"go away!"

the tell-tale sign of sero using your spare key to let himself in made you peek your head out of the blankets "remind me to destroy your copy" you grumbled

sero gave you a toothy grin "jokes on you, mi guerita, i got hella spares that you don't even know about."

you rolled your eyes at him, but couldn't help but feel a little better

"as much as i believe that sebastian rulli can cure us all, i got you a little something"

he got me something? you eyes narrowed in suspicion "...what do you want?"

"okay, fuckin wound me, why don't you?" sero faked indignant "can't a man simply buy something nice for his best friend??"

you eyed the box he held behind his back and sat up "you really didn't have to, i'm fine"

"guerita, believe me, i know you're fine as hell" he winked, doing an internal fist pump as he watched the blush bloom on your cheeks "i also have known you since we were little mocosos, i know how much you miss your family and as much as i wish i could afford to buy you a ticket back home, this is the best i could do."

sero placed the box in your lap, it was fairly large and your mind raced with what could be inside. he chewed the inside of his cheek to keep himself from screaming in panic.

you gently popped off the tape from the sides and slowly opened the plain cardboard box

it felt like an eternity as you just stared into the box with an expression on your face that was making sero sweat. oh my fucking god she hates it, oh my god - what the fuck was i thinking??

a soft sob broke sero out of his panic, he looked over to see fat drops of tears slide down your face "ohnononononono" he muttered, rushing over to you and pulling you in his arms "i'm so sorry this was so stupid, i thought-i thought you'd like it, i-"

"i love it" you hiccuped, bright eyes shining with tears "you got me dr. simis!" a watery laugh left your lips "how did you know i was missing some??"

sero's eyes flicked over to the displays of plushies lining your walls "i-uh. had a hunch."

you pulled them out one by one, plopping them into his arms until he could barely contain them before snapping a picture. you let out a laugh before making it your wallpaper. that laugh made the pain of having to ask bakugou for a favor all worth it - he'd buy the entire chain of farmacias similares to hear that laugh for the rest of his life

"there's-um" he cleared his throat, you tried not to grin at the nervous hitch in his voice "there's something else in there"

you furrowed your brow as you turned your attention back to the box, pulling out a small note at the bottom.

"quieres ser mi novia?"

do you wanna be my girlfriend?

you turned to find sero standing at the foot of your bed with the largest bouquet of roses you've ever seen. where the fuck did he even get that?

"i've liked you the moment we met as kids - you stole my duvalin and my heart on the playground that day. i wanna be the man you recreate those stupid dramatic novela scenes with-"

he couldn't even finish the rest of his speech as you threw yourself onto him - he dropped the flowers to catch you, pulling you tight against him, your thighs wrapped tight around his waist

"pendejito, yes of course!" you squealed happily

"oh thank god" sero sighed "this was gonna get real awkward if you had said no"

"what? why??"

he carried you over to the window, opening the sliding door to the balcony. you let out a surprised gasp as you saw your friends and classmates outside "she said yes, guys!" sero called out

suddenly bright and loud music began to play, you watched as some of your classmates pulled out speakers and you could recognize the begining of "mi credo" by k-paz de la sierra "none of them spoke spanish, so this is the best we could come up with!" your boyfriend (ahhhh!) laughed.

you pulled his face in closer for a soft kiss "thank you for this, hanta. it's starting to feel like home with you here."

so this was clearly pure self indulgent and no i will not be taking criticisms 👼🏽 but latino!sero will forever have my heart

also being loved mexicanly was a weird trend bc yeah all that is true, but like also machismo and cheating and toxic relationships are also very prevalent, soooo 👀

and yes, i do have an extensive dr. simi collection - i mentioned them once to my dad and every time he goes back to mx he brings me once and it fuels my little tism urge to hoard things.

[writingdevil]

Smitten x hunted? I think they would be really interesting because smitten is so focused on “frivolous” things like romance while hunted is so focused on survival.

(THEY'D BE SO CUTE!! I've seen some spousemouse stuff and it's always adorable, and I agree that they'd both be focused on completely different things, but I also think they'd be good for each other, so enjoy!)

(Warning-One mention of animal death and blood)

Hunted was in a bit of a predicament, one that couldn't be solved by simply running away.

At first, he considered the sudden burst of nerves and fluttering feelings he would get throughout the day, as a sign of danger afoot.

But Hunted was vigilant in his search for threats, and when none presented itself, it only made him more worried.

He wasn't sure what the problem was, until he started to notice when he would get these feelings-and only one person made Hunted feel this way.

Smitten.

Everytime Smitten approached him, Hunted would feel his face flush at the poetic words flowing out of Smitten's mouth, or have his feathers puff up whenever Smitten touched him in any way. But the most damning thing of all-was the amount of time that Smitten remained in Hunted's daydreams, and when the daydreams turned to kissing, Hunted knew exactly what was going on.

The problem was acting on it.

Hunted's never been in love before, and all his usually correct instincts were telling him to run far, far away from Smitten, which was the last thing he wanted.

Hunted spent a good week agonising over his internal fight between his heart and head-until he came to a realisation.

All of this overthinking was pointless if Smitten didn't reciprocate his feelings.

That got Hunted seeing straight again.

It all became so clear to him. Hunted just had to see if Smitten felt the same way. That way, if he didn't, Hunted could go back to trusting his instincts without any issues at all.

He just had to court Smitten properly.

Even though this was a first for Hunted, he felt pretty certain in his skills to court Smitten and let him see how Hunted truly felt about him.

There were many ways that Hunted could go about this, but he decided to go with the most sensible courting ritual.

-

He heard Smitten's humming before he was anywhere near his bedroom, so Hunted had time to take a look back and view his handiwork, before Smitten opened the door, and Hunted whirled around just as Smitten let out a frightened yell.

"Goodness gracious!" Smitten yelled in surprise, clutching a hand to his chest in fright, pressing himself up against his wall.

Hunted waited for Smitten to calm down, keeping his posture relaxed despite the way his heart hammered in his chest.

"Sorry for scaring you," Hunted said with a duck of his head. "Didn't mean to."

Smitten took a deep breath in, before collecting himself, giving Hunted a beaming smile that made his heart flutter, but he managed to keep his composure.

"It's quite alright, my small friend. I was just startled-no hard feelings here. But-um-" Smitten gave him a curious look, and walked up to him, and Hunted made sure to ignore the pounding of his heart, as Smitten stared down at him with those sparkling eyes of his.

"I must admit, I'm a bit confused as to why you're here. Is there something you need my assistance for?"

Hunted shook his head, stepping aside to let Smitten observe his room. He avoided Smitten's gaze as he explained, "I hope you don't mind, but I cleaned your bedroom for you."

Hunted looked up and inspected his work, just so that he didn't have to see Smitten's reaction.

Smitten's room hadn't exactly been the cleanest, so it was a good excuse as any to clean it up.

The floor was clear, the loose feathers were gone, and everything was exactly to how Smitten would have liked his room. But the real reason that Hunted had gone through with this, was to make space for what he really wanted to do with Smitten's bed-make a nest out of it.

All good mates are able to make secure and comfortable nests for their partners.

Huntrd had taken every blanket that Smitten had owned-and some of Hunted's own-and had created a nest that would make any other avian swoon.

There was a dark blanket acting as a canopy, casting the bed into a nice shade, while mountains of pillows and sheets turned the bed into a formidable fortress of comfort, one that Hunted was itching to have Smitten's scent all over, to complete his work and prove that this nest was adequate enough for someone as amazing as Smitten.

Smitten gasped dramatically, and it sounded like one of his happy ones, but Hunted couldn't be sure. But then Smitten lunged forward and wrapped Hunted into a big hug, one that Hunted tensed up at but didn't fight.

Smitten lifted his feet off the ground as he squeezed him, nuzzling into Hunted as he happily exclaimed, "Oh Hunted, you shouldn't have!"

"Do you like it? Do you like the nest?" Hunted asked, physically unable to relax until he had an answer.

Smitten leaned back just enough to show Hunted the absolute joy in his eyes, and Hunted breath hitched.

"Oh, I'm absolutely in love with it! Thank you so much for this!" Smitten went back to hugging Hunted, but Hunted's brain was stuck on what Smitten said.

He was in love with the nest? He was in love with how Hunted built his safe space? Does that mean that Hunted did good and that Smitten was also in love with-

"I can't wait to share this nest with the others!"

Wait, what?

Smitten released him from his embrace, carefully putting him back on the ground, immediately rushing up to the nest to admire it, cooing at all the little details and ideas that Hunted had cared enough to put in. Although the praise made Hunted want to chirp with glee and snuggle up with Smitten, he was stuck thinking about what Smitten had just said.

Share it with the others? Does that mean he didn't return Hunted's feelings? Nests made by mates or potential partners were usually just shared between them, but if Smitten wanted the others to come into the nest that Hunted worked so hard on, then maybe he didn't have any romantic feelings towards Hunted at all.

Hunted wasn't exactly convinced, though. Especially as Smitten started rambling about having a sleepover in his nest, and Hunted was already one of the first people to be invited. It was just enough to flick away his initial disappointment, and urge him to keep trying in his endeavours of love.

-

Hunted briefly considered bringing gifts of food to Smitten to show that he would be a good provider, and considering that Smitten was the cook of the house, it would line up nicely.

But then Hunted remembered the last time he brought home a fresh kill- a rabbit, clinging between Hunted's jaws with blood all over his face, and he had presented the catch to Smitten triumphantly. But Smitten had only been shocked and a bit disgusted at the surprise, more concerned with cleaning up the blood on Hunted's face, and he kindly asked Hunted to not bring meat home like that anymore.

So he decided on another approach.

He walked right up to Smitten one day, lightly bonking his forehead against Smitten's back, and when Smitten turned around, Hunted had to try extremely hard not to stutter as he sheepishly said, "Your wings need to be preened. Can I-"

"Of course you can, my dear," Smitten immediately said, leaving no room for arguments. He instantly took Hunted by the hand and guided them to the couch in the living room, and Hunted tried his best to remember Smitten's touch in case this whole thing was in vain.

Smitten sat on the couch, back straight and wings spread out, ready to be preened.

Hunted's done this hundreds- no, thousands, of times before, but right now, there was a bundle of nerves in the pit of Hunted's stomach, and he simply didn't have the option of running away. All he could do was ignore it for the time being.

Thankfully Smitten didn't see the way Hunted's hands shook as he started preening Smitten's feathers, taking the time to truly appreciate how well-groomed and soft they looked.

He preened much slower than usual today, wanting to make sure that he didn't miss a single feather, determined to have Smitten looking his best.

Well, Smitten always looked his best, but Hunted didn't want to be the one to soil Smitten's pretty features in any way.

"I always love it when you preen my wings," Smitten softly said, and Hunted froze for a split second at the fondness heard in the other's voice, before forcing himself to keep going, pretending that he wasn't completely flustered right now at this moment.

"I'm glad," Hunted quietly admitted, ducking his head even though Smitten couldn't see him. "I like preening others." He shrugged to himself then. "Not good at words, better at doing things for others."

If Smitten caught on to what he was saying, then maybe this would go easier than Hunted thought.

"Yes, you truly take care of the flock like no other, and we're all blessed to have you in our lives, Hunted."

But then again, he just said he was bad at conveying emotions.

Hunted continued to preen Smitten in relative silence, only swapping a few words here and there. Although Hunted was being pulled in all directions with these feelings, it was still nice to sit down and bask in this moment with Smitten.

Smitten never made Hunted feel anxious or in danger. He always treated Hunted with nothing but gentle respect, looking at him with genuine interest at the things he did, even if the two of them couldn't be farther apart.

Smitten was a divine being that should be adored and cherished-and Hunted was merely the dog that was loyal to him.

Soon enough- too soon-Hunted was finished preening, and he patted Smitten's back to let him know that he was done.

Smitten slowly turned around to face Hunted as he inspected his wings, and the sound of pure giddy joy that left his mouth was enough to have Hunted's face flushing.

"Aw, they look magnificent, my dear," Smitten praised, and Hunted clenched his fists to try and reign in his own excited nerves.

But when Smitten's gaze fell onto him, Hunted couldn't help but get lost in the fondness that Smitten held for him, and there was suddenly only the two of them in the world right now.

"You're always so sweet to us," Smitten murmured, and Hunted felt like he was walking along a dangerous edge as he sheepishly asked, "You think I did a good job? You think I'm good at taking care of you?"

"Of course, sweetheart." Hunted was about to let the pet name go to his head, all his instincts telling him to confess, confess, confess-

"It's truly respectable how sweet you are to the whole flock," Smitten exclaimed, suddenly shooting up to his feet, giving Hunted only the briefest of glowing smiles, before saying, "I should go and show off my freshly preened wings. Take care, Hunted!"

Then he was off, leaving Hunted stunned and confused.

He should let this go. He should accept that Smitten didn't feel the same and move on-but Hunted still had one more courtship ritual to enact.

-

This was the last ritual that Hunted wanted to perform, and everything sensible within him was telling him to run away from this mess, and Hunted was half inclined to agree.

But he needed to know.

He can't go on wondering about what ifs and romance when there was a flock to protect and look after.

He needed to know if Smitten felt the same way or not, if only for peace of mind.

"I'm here, Hunted!" Smitten waved enthusiastically as he ran up to join Hunted on the field, the stars shining down on them. Hunted wanted to do this away from prying eyes, for the sake of his dignity.

As Smitten walked closer, he asked, "What is it that you needed to meet me here for-"

But then Hunted held up a hand, making Smitten stop a few feet away from him. Smitten looked at him in confusion, but Hunted just lowered his head, and spread out his wings.

He flapped them once, stepped forward, flapped them again, spun around, and took a step to the side.

The confusion on Smitten's face was only there for a moment, before it fell into realisation-and he spread his own wings in return.

Hunted's face was on fire.

Still, he forced himself to continue, beginning to walk around them, and Smitten walked in the opposite direction, until they were circling each other, eyes locked and breathing almost in sync.

They flapped, walked, spun. Flapped, walked-Smitten did a quick bow of his head, but when Hunted tried to do the same, he almost tripped on his feet, making Smitten giggle.

This was why Hunted did this one last. He was terrible at dancing.

Still, Smitten didn't seem to mind, only getting more into the dance, it looked like.

They walked closer and closer, until Hunted could feel the intensity of Smitten's eyes, and he felt like he was dancing with an apex predator, one that he would happily let consume him.

Hunted looked down, to find their hands reaching for each other. Their fingers interlinked, and then Smitten pulled him closer.

Hunted let a gasp out, but then the dancing got faster, with Smitten now taking the lead, twisting and spinning Hunted around with a lightness that had his heart pumping and bursting with love.

This was their moment.

No matter whether Smitten reciprocated or not, this would still be theirs.

Smitten spun him around, and then Hunted yelped as he was suddenly dipped, his arms instinctively reaching out to grab at Smitten's shoulders.

Their eyes locked, panting and letting the tension thicken between them.

Then, Smitten's brows furrowed, and he asked, "Have you been trying to court me, Hunted?"

Hunted gulped, but there was nowhere to run now, so he just nodded with a nervous, "Yes."

"The preening, the nest in my room-"

"All to show that I would be a worthy partner," Hunted explained, then he shrugged. "But it didn't look like you got the hint."

Smitten sighed dramatically, holding him closer as he said, "Darling, I thought that was the case, but you behave that way around everyone, so I assumed it meant nothing."

Oh. Now that Hunted thinking about it, he does do that with the others, so he can see where the confusion was coming from.

He shyly looked back up at Smitten. "Sorry-didn't realise. I was trying to show off to you." He felt his face burn hotter as the embarrassment took over him, but Smitten merely pulled him closer to his chest to take him out of it.

"Wait," Hunted said, hope rising in his chest, "if you realised what I was doing, then does that mean-"

Smitten smiled down at him, as if Hunted was the most precious thing in existence.

"Would you like me to say my own declaration of love?"

Hunted nodded, and when Smitten leaned down to softly kiss him, they both got their answer.

[midnight-bay-if]

heyy, first off just want to say that i absolutely love the story so far and i'm so excited to see where it'll go in the future <3

anywaysss, how would the RO's react to the MC having to be used as like a honey trap to get info for a mission?

(also my first time doing an ask so if this is messed up, i apologise)

(Thank you so much! I'm also excited, haha. And it's not messed up at all! Don't worry!)

S: They see the benefits of such a plan, but it isn't their favourite method of completing a mission. It often leads to too many complications, most of which would be thrust upon your shoulders should things go awry. It leaves you at the forefront of danger, which they will never be entirely comfortable with. So you had better believe they would be lingering close by, just in case.

"I will have eyes on you the entire time, darling. If you feel uncomfortable, or you believe your cover to be blown, do not hesitate to call upon me. I will be beside you in an instant."

Rain: They don't like it. They feel sure S should be able to develop a better plan that doesn't involve you acting sweet for such a dangerous person. It isn't jealousy but genuine concern for your safety. They at least trust that S won't let anything too nefarious happen, but there is no way they can sit still while it's happening.

"Are you sure about this, MC? Perhaps I could do it instead?" It sounds ridiculous out loud. Rain does not have the confidence for such a thing. "Fine. But I'm going to be watching. If I sense anything off about their body language, I'm intervening. I can't lose you."

Taj: "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Their vehement refusal holds no real orders. They fell for you exactly as you are; they would never try to change who you are. But their displeasure is palpable. They hate everything about the idea; the danger, the charm, the temptation, all of it repulsive. The sweet, whispered words you share in the dark and under blankets are supposed to be theirs. They want them to be. Perhaps it's greedy, but it doesn't feel that way when they are utterly starved for you.

"There has to be a better way, Koel. Lean on me. Work with me. Let's do this together.

N: They go quiet. What could they possibly say? Luring people with sickly sweet nothings or sensual promises of pleasure has been their weapon of choice for a very long time. Even you did not escape its clutches. People use whatever is at hand to survive. They cannot begrudge you the same, but... this feeling in their chest... it hurts. Indeed, you must realise so much of their facade has been stripped back since meeting you, and all their soft, soothing melodies are yours and yours alone.

"I will be waiting close by, my dear. If you need me, I will be whispering on the edges of your consciousness. Do not hesitate to call."

Umbra: Unsurprising that another would find you so perfectly alluring, but... they do not like it. "There must be a better plan," they suggest hopefully, tugging at their sleeves in a self-soothing gesture. "I could easily corner them in a dark alley and scare the information out of them." It wouldn't be any particular hardship; they understand how horrifying they are. But you deny it. You always do. Soft, brave, kind; it's who you are. You see that in them, too, but the truth is, Umbra is only that with you.

"If they hurt you," they warn, danger edging its way back into their voice, "there will be no where in any world for them to hide."

[amevello-blue]

Yo back up Donny tried to comfort Raph? This I gotta see

Yes but first of all you have to sit through my rant about this entire scene

They're all standing back to give Donny his space with Leo. They're all worried, hands clenched, tense, but Raph's the only one with his arms crossed over his chest. He's close off right now. They're sharing vulnerabilities, emotions. Raph is not. He doesn't want to. He doesn't want anything to show.

Raph scoffs and jokes "I think you got him hanging on your every word, Don." And Leo stirs. Casey's the one who comments on it, saying, "I think he heard you, Raphy."

Everyone looks kinda intent on this revelation, surprised, but determined. Raph genuinely looks surprised and stunned and almost dare I say frightened? Some of that emotion is leaking through.

Then Mikey does his story, and Raph is... less than impressed. His arms are crossed over his chest again, he's scoffing, he's insulting Leo, saying he's not waking up because he's afraid.

He gets upset. "He got his butt whooped, and now he's too chicken to come back and face it!"

Mikey looks worried, upset, but Donny gets this moment of... Realization. He knows what Raph's doing. He knows Raph's going to say things he doesn't mean. He knows Raph.

Donny says, "that's enough, Raph." He doesn't scold him, or get mad at him about it. Just. Set his hand on his shoulder and says that's enough. That's enough getting angry at Leo when we all know that it's not Leo you're angry at.

Raph's trying really hard. He turns away from Donny. He's squeezing his eyes shut. He's trying not to cry. This is the comforting part I mean.

He shakes Don's hand off, which surprises Donny. Implying this method has worked to calm Raph down before.

"Well I say who needs ya? It's not like we can't get on without you playing fearless leader." Interestingly when Raph says that they'd be fine without him, it focuses on Leo, who is bruised and unconscious and spent hours in the rain trying to escape the Foot because he couldn't bring them back to April's. He knew he couldn't bring them back to April's. He could have gotten help there, but that would risk putting his family in danger.

Then, when you see Raph again...

He's crying. And Donny's shock has turned to genuine concern for Raph.

And he turns away from Donny more, and Donny's expression softens from concern to understanding. The fact that this scene is set up like this, where Raph is crying and Donny is the one watching him in the background, it hits me a certain way. Donny doesn't cry. Not after Kirby, not after Honeycutt, not when he realizes that he's going to have to kill his entire family to stop the Shredder. (In Exodus and in SAINW.) But Raph's here, crying, at their first big defeat. One of them has been defeated, broken, and only lived because their enemy was playing with him like a cat toy.

And Donny is RIGHT THERE.

Anyway, Raph tells the story of how he accepted Leo's leadership when they were kids, that strongest and bravest do not necessarily make for the best leader who makes the best decisions for the team.

And he's struggling again. "I don't even know why I told you that story. I guess I just... What I'm tryin to say is..." And he can't finish his sentence. He just trails off he clutches at his head, his face, he can't look at anyone, can't let them see the expression he's making.

And Leo, who has only reacted to Raph's voice this entire time, is only shown to be reacting to Raph's voice, stirs again.

Splinter reassures him this time. "Your brother hears you, Raphael. He understands."

And Raph, he doesn't say anything. He just. Goes to the window. And imo is processing the fact that he knows they can't survive without Leo. They need their fearless leader (a nickname that Raph gave him in the first place.) That's what that story meant. They need Leo. Raph needs Leo.

anyway the whole scene makes me incredibly emotional. The farmhouse arc wasn't just a Leo arc, it was very much a Raph arc as well. It was learning his brother isn't fearless. Isn't invincible. Leo is breakable. Raph literally helps Leo put himself (and his swords) back together. And I don't think Raph would have ever realized that Leo needed that kind of help if this scene hadn't happened earlier.

Cause the thing is, Leo was afraid. He was terrified of coming back and facing that failure. Failure is SUCH a big part of his character, his fear of it, his fight against it, and Raph... Raph hit the nail on the head. But telling stories of the times Leo was strong, the times that his family has needed him, was what brought Leo back.

And I think Raph realized at that point that. Maybe Leo needs help sometimes. Maybe he isn't Mr Perfect Ninja Son. Maybe Raph can be the one to help.

[allthemeniveloved]

It Will Come Back - Arthur's Ending

Summary: Arthur's ending, and John's fate is revealed.

wc: 5.3k

ao3 link

Tags: SMMMUTTTT, Arthur Morgan x fem!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, cream pie, body worship, oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected, brief mentions of violence, body worship, arthur morgan is all about aftercare

a/n: I pray that everyone who voted for Arthur's ending is satisfied! I'm definitely feeling more comfortable writing smut nowadays but not perfectly where I want to be, but that's okay. Work has been much busier than normal lately with the holidays, but I plan on working on John's two-part ending throughout this week to hopefully post by next weekend. Enjoy! <3

P.S. I don't know what is going on with my ao3 but when I pasted the story from my google doc, everything was double spaced and I lost all of my italics and things and I'm not sure how to get it back. So apologies.

John slammed his fists against the bars, his voice desperate as they backed away. “Arthur! Don’t leave me here!”

Arthur turned back briefly, his jaw clenched tight. “We’ll come back for you, I swear it!”

“Arthur, please!” John shouted, gripping the bars of his cell, his voice raw with desperation as the sound of approaching guards grew louder.

Arthur turned back, his jaw tight as he tried to reassure him. “John, we’ll come ba—”

Before he could finish, a sharp pain exploded across his jaw as a guard’s fist connected, sending him stumbling back against the wall. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as he regained his footing, drawing his revolver in one swift motion and firing instinctively, the shot tearing through the guard’s skull with a sickening crack, sending him stumbling back. The guard hit the ground hard, his keys clattering to the floor with a metallic echo.

“Arthur!” John’s voice rang out from his cell, sharp and desperate as he saw the glint of the keys. The chaos of boots stomping toward them and shouted commands filled the hallway, but neither man had time to think—just act. The corridor erupted in chaos as more guards poured in, their boots thundering against the stone floors. Arthur and Sadie fired back as they retreated, each shot precise but frantic, their survival instincts driving them forward.

John pressed himself against the bars of his cell, stretching his arm through the narrow gap until his fingers brushed the edge of the keys. “Come on, come on…” he muttered, his breath hitching as they slipped further away. Summoning every ounce of strength, he forced his hand through the gap, ignoring the scrape of cold iron against his skin. Finally, his fingers closed around the keyring, and he yanked them back, clutching them tightly in his shaking hand.

John wasted no time, fumbling with the lock on his cell door. His hands trembled, slick with sweat, but the mechanism clicked, and the door creaked open just as he watched the last of the guards chase Arthur and Sadie from the building. John slipped out as quiet as he could, his heart pounding in his chest as he glanced over his shoulder. John darted down the hall, the shouts and chaos receding as he vanished into the night. The noise behind him was deafening—the sound of Arthur and Sadie holding their ground against the guards—but John didn’t look back. He couldn’t. All he could do was pray they’d make it out alive, just as he had. 

One Week Later

The abandoned shack nestled in the rolling green hills of Big Valley was far from luxurious, but it was quiet, hidden, and—for now—safe. The air outside smelled of damp earth and pine, the wind rustling softly through the tall trees surrounding the property. Inside, the light of the late afternoon sun filtered through the cracks in the wooden walls, casting warm golden streaks across the floorboards. You stood near the hearth, coaxing a small fire to life as Arthur sat at the wobbly table in the corner, cleaning his revolver with practiced care.

It had been a week since the chaos at Sisika, and though the two of you hadn’t spoken much about what came next, there was a quiet understanding between you—this was where you needed to be, together. It felt strange and fragile, this rekindled closeness after so many months apart, but it also felt like home in a way you hadn’t experienced in a long time.

“You alright over there?” Arthur’s voice cut through the quiet, his tone soft but tinged with that familiar edge of concern. He looked up from his work, his blue eyes scanning you as if to confirm that you were, in fact, okay.

You nodded, offering him a small smile as you straightened from the fire. “I’m fine, Arthur. You don’t need to keep asking.”

His lips quirked into a faint smirk, though his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary. “Can’t help it,” he muttered, turning his attention back to his revolver. “You’ve got a knack for trouble, and trouble’s been followin’ us like a damn shadow.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t ignore the warmth that spread through your chest at his protectiveness. Crossing the room, you leaned against the edge of the table, watching him work. The way his hands moved—steady and sure, with a careful precision that spoke of years of practice—was mesmerizing. You reached out impulsively, your fingers brushing lightly against his as he reassembled the gun.

Your eyes drifted to his hands as he worked on his revolver. They were rough and calloused, the hands of a man who had lived a hard life, yet they moved with such care and precision it was almost mesmerizing. His fingers worked steadily, reassembling the weapon with ease, the faint metallic scrape of metal against metal filling the quiet room. You found yourself lingering on the scars and faint nicks that lined his knuckles, each one telling a story you’d never hear but could imagine all too vividly. There was a certain grace in the way he handled the gun, a gentleness that seemed at odds with the violence it represented. As he rubbed a soft cloth along the barrel, his thumb brushing the edge, you couldn’t help but think how those same hands had protected you, steadied you, and held you with a tenderness that few would ever believe Arthur Morgan was capable of.

You also couldn’t help but to notice the warm light of the shack caught on the strong lines of his neck, drawing your attention to the veins that stood out faintly against his sun-kissed skin. They shifted subtly with every movement he made, the steady rhythm of his work bringing them into focus as his hands reassembled the weapon with quiet precision. You couldn’t help but linger on the way they traced down toward his collarbone. It was mesmerizing, the way even the smallest details about him seemed to capture you, leaving your heart fluttering as you watched the quiet intensity with which he worked.

“Arthur,” you said softly, your voice drawing his eyes back to you. His gaze softened immediately, and he tilted his head slightly, waiting for you to continue. “I’ve been thinking… after everything that’s happened, I don’t think I’ve properly said thank you.”

He frowned slightly, clearly uncomfortable with the sentiment. “For what?” he asked gruffly, setting the revolver aside as he gave you his full attention.

“For everything,” you replied, your fingers lingering on his hand. “For coming back into my life when I needed you most. For keeping me safe. For just… being here.”

Arthur exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening for a moment before he reached out, his hand settling on your waist as he gently tugged you closer. “You don’t gotta thank me for that, darlin’,” he said quietly, his voice low and warm. “Ain’t like I could stay away from you even if I wanted to.”

The sincerity in his words sent a flutter through your chest, and before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned down to kiss him. It was soft at first, tentative, but when his other hand came up to cup the back of your neck, the kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring the moment while remaining gentle. When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathing a little heavier than before.

“You know,” you murmured, a teasing lilt in your voice, “for someone who acts all gruff and tough, you’re a real softie.”

Arthur let out a soft laugh, his thumb brushing absently against your side. “Only for you,” he admitted, his voice low and gruff but filled with quiet affection.

His fingers reach out to trace along your jawline and down the column of your neck over your quickening pulse, the act sending goosebumps over your arms. You can’t hide the rosy blush that flushes over your cheeks and nose as Arthur’s eyes roam your features, drinking in the sight of you like a man dying of thirst. His voice was low and husky as he spoke. 

“Have I told you how much I’ve missed you, darlin’?” 

“Once or twice.” You barely whisper. 

He stood from his chair to stand in front of you, now towering over you as he trapped you in between the kitchen table and himself. His hands slid lower on your body, skimming over your shoulders and down your goosebump ridden arms. Arthur leans in to press a delicate kiss to your collarbone, lips lingering on your soft skin. He gently nips at your pulsepoint causing a soft moan to escape your lips.

Arthur’s quiet desperation for you had settled into every unspoken glance, every lingering touch, every fleeting moment of vulnerability he tried to mask behind his usual gruffness. After so many months apart, the ache of losing you had become a part of him, a constant undercurrent that no amount of danger or distraction could drown out. Now, with you so close again, it was almost unbearable—the way his chest tightened every time you smiled at him, or how his hand brushed yours and he had to resist the overwhelming urge to pull you closer. 

The tension between you hung thick in the air, unspoken but impossible to ignore. His hand twitched at his side like he was fighting himself, unsure whether to move closer or keep holding back. You could feel the weight of his emotions—months of longing, of regret, of something deeper he hadn’t yet named—radiating from him, and it made your breath catch in your chest.

“I can’t keep my hands to myself anymore,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, trembling with barely contained emotion. Before you could respond, he leaned in, his other hand coming up to cradle your face as though you might disappear if he didn’t hold you steady. But when you didn’t, when you leaned into him and your hands gripped the front of his shirt, it was like a dam breaking. His lips pressed harder against yours, the quiet desperation he’d been holding back for so long pouring into every movement. His hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you closer, his body tense with the force of everything he’d been trying to suppress.

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a release, an unspoken confession of all the months he’d spent aching for you, watching from the sidelines, convincing himself he had no right to feel the way he did. “Darlin’,” he muttered against your mouth, “I have to feel you again. I’ve missed you, I’ve missed every part of you.” Your mouth hung open at the confession, and before you could respond, his hands were on the backs of your thighs, effortlessly lifting you onto the wooden table. Your hands clutched at the fabric of his shirt to steady yourself as he roughly set you down and slotted himself between your legs. Everyday, his physical strength mesmerizes you. 

Arthur’s large hands cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over the sheer fabric of your nightgown. He groaned at the feeling, his own arousal pressing persistently into your thigh. His lips found yours once more in a searing kiss, pouring all of his pent up desire into it. His hands continued to roam your body, memorizing every single dip and curve and gently kneading your soft skin, wanting to imprint you into his very soul. He needed you like he needed air. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with need and his voice hoarse.

“I adore you,” he said as he tugged impatiently at your nightgown, desperate to feel your skin on his own. Once discarded across the room, Arthur took a moment to simply stare at you, drinking in the sight of your naked form. 

“Fucking perfect, darlin’,” he breathed before lowering his head to capture a rosy nipple between his lips. Arthur sucked greedily, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as his hand came up to massage your other breast. He could feel you arching into his touch, your soft moans spurring him on. 

Arthur sank to his knees, pressing reverent kisses onto your inner thigh. He could smell your arousal, the scent driving him wild. He glanced up to your hooded eyes, seeking permission and you hurriedly nod, your mouth partly agape at his desperation. 

At your will, he dove in like a man starved, his talented tongue delving between your folds and alternating between broad strokes and circling your clit, determined to drive you mad. Arthur moaned at the taste of you, his hands gripping your hips to death as he savoured your sweet taste and the sweet sounds spilling from deep in your throat. 

Your moans grew louder and more desperate, your back arching off of the wooden table beneath you as Arthur slipped two fingers inside, working them in tandem with his tongue as he curled them gently to hit the perfect spot inside that made you see stars. Soon it became hard and fast, his tongue never ceasing his assault on your clit as he felt you tightening around his thick digits. 

With a final flick of his tongue and a twist of his fingers, Arthur sent you tumbling over the edge. He lapped up your release like a dog, savouring the taste of you and burning it into his memory while letting you ride out your high on his mustache, the stubble sending shockwaves through your body, all the way down to your toes. 

Arthur’s hands never leave your body as he presses open-mouthed kisses to your stomach, his arousal-soaked beard making your sensitive skin shiver. His large hands cup your ass, squeezing and kneading as he grinds his hardness against you, his jeans quickly becoming soaked.

“Look at what you do to me,” he growled against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. He sits up, reaching for the buttons of his shirt and union suit, and your gaze moves down to where his cock strains against the fabric, a large wet stain coating his crotch. Now it was your turn to memorize him in his most primal state. 

“Oh, Arthur-” you moan out as he sheds the last of his clothing and his large cock springs free, already dripping with precum. It’s been oh-so-long since you’ve felt those veins inside of you, and it’s apparent in your gaze at him. He massages his swollen head through your folds, coating himself in your sheen. 

“Careful baby girl,” he drawled, his voice low and teasing, “Keep lookin’ that pretty, and I might just forget to pull out.” That alone forces a whiny moan out of you and he couldn’t help but to let out a small chuckle at how pathetic you had become for him. 

Arthur teased your entrance, the soft tip nudging against your opening but not quite breaching. 

“I need to hear you say it, baby girl.” 

“Please, Arthur, I want you-” He waited no time before pushing his full length into you, a moan abruptly cutting off your words. 

“Need,” he emphasized, “I need you.” He corrected.

“Yes Arthur, please, I need you.” Your voice quickly turned desperate.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he groaned as he began to move slowly, torturously, burying himself to the hilt over and over as he allowed you time to adjust. 

“Always so tight for me. I know it’s been a long time, sweetheart,” he rasped, his fingers digging into your hips so hard it’ll surely leave bruises. At your breathless plea, Arthur couldn’t hold back any longer. He set a steady rhythm, each thrust equally deep and powerful, hitting that spot within you that made you cry out. 

Arthur leaned forward to tightly grip the edge of the table by your head to keep steady as he pounded into you. He captured your swollen lips in another searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he drove into you over and over again. It was clear that your bodies remembered each other, moving together in perfect sync as sweat-slicked skin slid against skin. 

He broke apart from you and his voice came out low and rough, heavy with emotion. “I missed you, darlin’. Missed you so much it damn near killed me. Thought about you every day… couldn’t help it.”

You felt a slight pang of guilt twist in your chest as you watched him, the weight of leaving him behind all those months ago lingering like a shadow you couldn’t shake. But no matter how far you’d gone, no matter how hard you’d tried to bury it, you’d missed him deeply, achingly, in a way that made being with him now feel like coming home.

“I love you, Arthur,” you confessed once more into his neck as he continued to pound into you relentlessly. “Fuck, I love you!” You cried out. 

“I love you too, baby girl,” he moaned as he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, hips never faltering. 

One of Arthur’s hands left your hip and snaked between you both to circle your clit, rubbing the over-sensitive nub in time with his thrusts. He could feel you getting closer, your walls fluttering and tightening around his cock. 

“That’s it darlin’, cum for me,” he encouraged, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. He gritted his teeth, determined to hold off until you found your peak. For him, your pleasure came first - always. 

Arthur’s hips snapped forward as his fingers worked your clit harder. When your orgasm finally hit, it was like a dam bursting. You cried out, back arching off of the table as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, and he couldn’t get enough. Arthur groaned at the feeling of you coming undone on him, your walls clamping down on his cock like a vice.

“I meant what I said earlier, about you looking too pretty,” he groaned as he watched you writhe underneath him. 

“I know you did.” You smiled sweetly at Arthur, eyes blown with lust. He took that as your permission and buried himself to the hilt inside of you, his hips jerking against yours as he came. His cock twitched and pulsed as thick streams of his hot seed spurted deep within you, painting your inner walls. Each spasm of his member sent another wave of pleasure coursing through you, both of you shuddering at the intensity of it. 

Arthur’s head fell forward, resting against your shoulder as he rode out his own aftershocks. He felt his cum mixing with your own, creating a warm, slick mess between your joined bodies. The sensation of his release flooding through you sent a primal thrill through him, a sense of possessiveness and satisfaction. 

Slowly, he began to move again, his softening cock still nestled inside of you. He rolled his hips lazily, grinding against you to prolong the moment. Arthur’s hands roamed your body, caressing your curves with reverence. The overstimulation on your clit caused your hands to fly to his chest, gently nudging him off of you. He couldn’t help but to chuckle before pressing a kiss to your temple and sitting back up and pulling out of you. 

He grabbed a clean rag by his forgotten revolver and dipped the corner in the warm water in the sink before cleaning you up completely, then himself. You sit up and he offers his hand to help you down from the table, his hand on your hip to steady you as your feet plant on the ground. You two are moving together in perfect tandem as you lift your arms and he pulls your nightgown over your head without ever speaking. He untucks your hair from the back of your dress, pressing one final kiss to your forehead before dressing himself in his union suit. 

The rest of the evening passed in a comfortable rhythm. You prepared a simple meal over the fire while Arthur repaired a loose hinge on the front door, muttering about “damn drafty shacks” and “how in the hell anyone lived here.” When you teased him about being domesticated, he shot you a mock glare but didn’t deny it, his faint smile betraying him.

Later, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the room grew dim, Arthur pulled a spare blanket from his pack and draped it over your shoulders as you sat near the fire. He sat beside you, close enough that his arm brushed against yours, and when you leaned into him, he wrapped an arm around you without hesitation, his hand resting protectively on your back.

You couldn’t help but admire the way Arthur always seemed to know exactly what you needed, whether it was a blanket wrapped around your shoulders on a cold night or a quiet word of reassurance when your thoughts got too heavy. He took care of you with a steady, selfless devotion that made your chest ache, as if his sole purpose was to make sure you never carried more than you could bear.

“You don’t gotta worry so much,” you said softly, tilting your head to look up at him. “We’re safe here, at least for now.”

Arthur’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze fixed on the fire. “Safe ain’t a word I trust anymore,” he replied, his voice low. “ But I’ll make damn sure nothin’ happens.”

His words settled over you like a promise, and as the fire crackled softly, you closed your eyes, letting the steady beat of his heart against your shoulder lull you into a fragile peace. 

-

The small town of Strawberry was quiet in the mid-morning sun, its wooden buildings bathed in golden light as Arthur rode down the main road. He adjusted his hat, his sharp eyes scanning the streets as he guided his horse toward the general store. They needed more supplies if they were going to last the week out at the shack—a little coffee, maybe some salted meat—and he figured it wouldn’t hurt to check the post office while he was here.

Sliding out of the saddle, Arthur tied his horse to the hitching post and stepped inside the tiny post office. The scent of ink and old wood greeted him as he approached the clerk, who looked up from his ledger with a polite but weary smile.

“Anything here for a Tacitus Kilgore?” Arthur asked gruffly, leaning a forearm on the counter. The alias felt strange on his tongue, but it was safer this way.

The clerk nodded, rifling through a neat stack of letters before pulling one out and handing it over. Arthur glanced at the envelope, his brows furrowing as he noted the sender: Jim Milton. It wasn’t a name he recognized outright, but something about it tugged at the back of his mind. With a curt nod to the clerk, he slipped the letter into his jacket and left the post office, his pace quickening as curiosity gnawed at him.

Outside, he found a quiet corner near the edge of town, away from prying eyes. Leaning against a fence, he pulled the letter out and opened it carefully, his jaw tightening as his eyes scanned the words inside.

Tacitus,

I hope to God you’re still alive to read this. I barely got out that night. Whatever distraction you and niece Caroline stirred up—it was enough. I owe you my life for that, though I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to repay it.

They’ll notice that I’m gone soon enough, so I can’t come back just yet. Not to the family, not to that life, at least not for a while. It’s all falling apart, and I know it’s only a matter of time before it crumbles completely. But there’s something I need to ask you. Something I can’t leave unsettled.

Look after her. Please. She’s stronger than anyone I’ve ever known, but I know you see it too—the way this life is tearing her apart. If there’s anyone I trust to keep her safe, it’s you, Arthur.

If this is goodbye, then thank you. For everything.

-Jim Milton

Arthur folded the letter slowly, his thumb brushing over the edge of the paper as he stared out toward the busy and muddy streets of Strawberry. The knot in his chest grew tighter with every word replaying in his head. Look after her. The plea rang louder than the rest, and it hit him harder than he cared to admit. John had made it out alive, but the weight of the letter—the finality of it—felt like a blow.

Arthur let out a heavy sigh, raking a hand through his hair. Arthur loved you. He never stopped loving you, and now it felt like John was passing the torch, entrusting you to him in a way that made his chest tighten with equal parts guilt and longing. He shoved the letter back into his jacket and mounted his horse, his mind racing as he rode back toward the shack. 

When Arthur rode back into the clearing where the shack sat, you were tending to the small fire outside, your focus lost in the rhythm of the flames. The sound of his horse’s hooves snapping twigs underfoot pulled you from your thoughts, and you stood quickly, brushing dirt from your hands. The look on Arthur’s face as he dismounted sent your heart racing—something had happened.

“What is it?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly. “Did something happen in town?”

Arthur didn’t answer right away, his broad shoulders tense as he pulled the folded letter from his jacket. He walked toward you with slow, deliberate steps, the paper held carefully in his rough hands. His eyes softened when they met yours, but there was a weight behind them that made your stomach twist.

“It’s from John,” he said, his voice low. He handed you the letter, his fingers brushing yours briefly before stepping back to give you space. “Go on, read it.”

Your breath hitched as you unfolded the letter, the name Jim Milton scrawled at the bottom catching your eye. You quickly scanned the words, your hands beginning to tremble as the message sank in. Relief flooded your chest first—he was alive. He’d escaped. But the finality of his words, the way he said he couldn’t come back, hit you like a blow. The line asking Arthur to look after you made your chest tighten painfully. By the time you reached the end, tears blurred your vision, and the letter slipped from your fingers, fluttering to the ground. It made you nauseous. 

A part of you felt an immense, aching relief—John was alive, safe, free from the horrors of Sisika of what might’ve been if he’d stayed there any longer. That knowledge alone should have been enough, yet it wasn’t. The sharp sting of knowing you might never see him again gnawed at you, the thought of his absence carving a hollow space in your chest that you weren’t expecting. You realized, with a bittersweet clarity, that a part of you would always love John, no matter how much time passed or how different your lives became. But there was also a quiet comfort in his words, in the way he had trusted Arthur to care for you, as though he had given you permission to move on, to find peace and happiness even if it wasn’t with him. It was a fragile sort of freedom, one that left you conflicted and raw, but it wasn’t quite enough to keep you from breaking.

“I—he’s alive,” you whispered, your voice trembling as the tears started to fall. “But he’s gone, Arthur. He’s really gone.”

You sank to your knees, your hands covering your face as the emotions overwhelmed you. Relief mixed with sorrow, the thought of never seeing John again cutting deeper than you expected. Arthur was by your side in an instant, his strong arms wrapping around you and pulling you against his chest.

“It’s alright,” he murmured, his voice rough but steady as he held you. One hand rested on your back, the other brushing softly through your hair as he let you cry into his shirt. “Let it out, darlin’. I’m here.”

For a long moment, you let yourself break down, the dam of emotions you’d been holding back finally bursting. Arthur didn’t move, his presence solid and comforting as his fingers continued to stroke gently through your hair. When your sobs finally subsided, he leaned back slightly, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. His blue eyes were filled with something soft, something unguarded, and the sight of it made your breath catch.

“I know this ain’t what you wanted to hear,” he said quietly, his voice laced with emotion. “But… maybe it’s a chance to think about what comes next. What we want next.”

You blinked at him, your tears still wet on your cheeks. “Arthur, what are you saying?”

He hesitated for a moment, his jaw working as he tried to find the right words. Finally, he exhaled deeply, his hands tightening slightly on your arms. “I’m sayin’… I’m tired of all this,” he admitted, his voice low but firm. “The runnin’, the fightin’. I don’t want it anymore. What I want… is to put it all behind me. To start over completely, wiith you.” He said simply, his eyes steady on yours. “Ain’t nothin’ left worth holdin’ onto back at the gang. But with you… I think we could have somethin’. A life. Somethin’ better than all this madness.” 

You pulled back slightly, your mind reeling. The thought of settling down, of leaving everything behind for good, felt impossible. But the way Arthur looked at you, his steady, unyielding presence grounding you, made the idea seem… not so far-fetched.

“I’ve been runnin’ so long, Arthur. I don’t even know what a normal life looks like anymore.”

Arthur smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth lifting in a way that softened the rough lines of his face. “We’ll figure it out,” he said, his voice quiet but filled with certainty. “You don’t gotta have all the answers now. But if you’ll trust me… we can make it work.”

For a long moment, you searched his face, the sincerity in his gaze stirring something deep within you. Finally, you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper as you said, “Alright. Let’s try.”

Arthur’s smile widened slightly, his hands cupping your face as he leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. “That’s all I needed to hear,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. 

You can’t help but to bite back a bit of a chuckle. “You know, for a man talkin’ about settlin’ down, you sure don’t strike me as the domestic type,” you teased, your grin widening when he shot you a mock glare. Arthur chuckled under his breath, glancing down at you with a crooked smile. “I’ll figure it out,” he said, his tone light and teasing. “Hell, can’t be harder than outrunnin’ the law, can it?” 

“Well, I don’t know, Arthur,” you teased, your grin widening. “Domestic life might just be the thing that finally breaks you.”

Arthur shot you a playful glare, “Break me? Nah,” he retorted, his voice dripping with mock confidence. “I reckon I’m tougher than I look. I’ll get a knack for this sorta thing… eventually.” He gave you a lopsided grin.

You shook your head, your laughter softening into something warmer as you looked at him. “Guess we’ll see,” you said quietly, your teasing tone still there, but the weight of your shared future hung in your words.

꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰

tag list: @photo1030 @fwitolei

[lotus-n-l0ve]

HIS TRANQUIL EMBRACE

— Geto Suguru x Female Reader

I Found My Forever Home In Your Soothing Arms.

*⁠.⁠✧ SYNOPSIS : When late at night you don't find your husband beside you. You go out to find him only to find him in the office.

*⁠.⁠✧ WARNINGS & TAGS : Husband!Suguru, wife!reader, workaholic!Suguru, mention of abuse, late night talk, peaks, cuddling, 1.2k words.

*⁠.⁠✧ — NAVIGATION // JUJUTSU KAISEN MASTERLIST

DO NOT PRESS [READ MORE] IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE. MINORS DNI, IF YOU DO THEN IT'S YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY.

Your feet padded on the floor as you made your way through the dark and gloomy hall. Drowsiness, heavy on your eyelids. In the middle of the night, your sleep broke due to the need to use the washroom.

When you were done, you noticed the empty side of the bed where Suguru was supposed to be. The bed sheet on his side was perfect and wrinkle free, meaning he has not come back to bed. You shook your head in disbelief. That workaholic of a husband of yours. But there is always a limit as to when to take a break.

You stopped in front of a wooden door, gold work carved into it. You raised a hand to knock but then changed your mind, instead you twisted the golden door handle and pushed the door open, walking inside.

The room was mostly dark, only a table lamp lighting up the room. Your husband sat behind the table, a file opened in his hand. A pair of spectacles resting on the bridge of his nose. He looked like a man straight out of romance novels. Suguru averted his eyes from the white sheets when he heard the door open only to be greeted with the adorable view of his sleepy wife trudging towards him, the long night gown dragging on the floor.

Suguru's eyes narrowed as he put the red file on the table, "Why are you up this late, Sweetheart?"

You didn't bother answering. You just slipped between his hands, dropping yourself on his lap and settling on. Your legs dangled on one side while you wrapped your arms around his torso, snuggling into his warm and strong chest. Suguru couldn't help but snort. You looked like a baby snuggling in his chest.

"How long are you going to work? Did you forget that you have a wife?" You mumbled, your fingers playing with his shirt's button.

"Just a little more." He ran a hand on your arm and placed a kiss on your forehead, "Why don't you go back and I'll join you as soon as I'm done?"

"No, thank you. I'm way too comfortable to move now." Your hands wrapped around his firm torso.

You closed your eyes, ear pressed on his chest as you concentrated on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Suguru let you be and picked up the file again. His father had given him the responsibility of a big project and Suguru definitely did not want to let his father down.

Silence filled in the room, only the occasional noise and page flipping. You tried to go back to the dreamland but instead you were led back to the nightmare. It was the time when Suguru was yet to appear in your life. Those gloomy days when you were barely surviving.

You have never known who your father was. He walked out of your and your mother's life eight months into the pregnancy. Soon after your mother fell into the dangerous trap of drugs. You were mostly raised by a grandma in the neighbourhood. She tried to save you from your mother's clutch as much as she could but soon enough she passed away, leaving you unprotected under your mother.

She would bring home different men everyday to hook up, to forget all her sorrow in sex. She didn't care if you saw doing the act or not. She always blamed you for her misfortune. To her, you were the reason her husband left her. He didn't find her beautiful after her belly grew. You were the bane of her life.

All the household work was left on your shoulder. The little money she made by hooking up was mostly spent on her drugs, whatever she gave you was not even enough for a bread. Often days you went to sleep with an empty stomach along with the beating from your mother. You were, after all, her anger venting machine.

You silently endured the abuse, physical as well as mental. After you turned fifteen, you ran away from home and moved to Kyoto. There you rented a one studio apartment with some money you had saved and got yourself multiple jobs to support yourself.

You completed your studies and started working in the infamous company, 'Iazami', as an intern. Years later, when you were twenty one, your life came to a stable position. In the company you met Suguru for the first time.

You knew him, everyone who used the internet knew him. He was the oldest son of the Geto family. 'Izami', founded by Akira Geto, dominated the hospitality industry. The company is now led by Suguru.

You first met him when he needed someone to fill in for his secretary and your HR recommended you for that position. You were nervous, working directly under the President put a ton of pressure on you. Suguru was professional. He liked things being done perfectly and on time. He knew when to be stern and not.

Soon you got to know the soft man under the disguise of a stern boss. You worked as his temporary secretary for one month and that one month was enough to make you fall for that man. You two developed a special bond, a bond, you knew, was not a simple boss and employee one.

After you transferred back to your previous position, you thought that everything had ended. Your story ended before it could even began. After all, what could happen between a billionaire, someone who literally owns the country and a simple intern. But you were quickly proven wrong.

The next day you found yourself face to face with Suguru. His hand held out for you as he uttered those words 'Will you go on a date with me, Y/N?'

Life after that felt like a tornado. Your lonely days were replaced with fun times with Suguru. Your bland dinner was replaced with cooking with him, going on dates, late night cuddles. Everything felt so ethereal that you worried it was all just a dream but Suguru made sure that you knew it was very much real.

You dated for three years and now you were married for two. The nightmares that haunted your nights before were overshadowed with Suguru's love.

You blinked your eyes, the sleepiness that you were feeling had now vanished with the thoughts of the past. Your head lifted to rest on the crook of his neck.

"Suguru?" You called him, your low voice appearing loud over the dead silence of the night.

Suguru hummed, one hand reaching to run it through your tangled hair. You smiled, almost like a drunk one.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

Suguru chuckled, "Are you trying to get me to go to bed?"

"No…………. Is it working?"

"Yep, definitely working." Suguru closed the file, abandoning it on the table as he picked you up in his arms, "Let's go and get your beauty sleep."

He looked down when you didn't reply, only to see you already asleep. You snuggled in his chest again and this time you finally reached the dreamland instead of the nightmares because you knew this time Suguru was here to protect you from any harm. You found your forever home in his soothing arms.

© 𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐔𝐒-𝐍-𝐋𝟎𝐕𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑, 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 — all content rights belongs to LOTUS-N-L0VE. do not plagiarise any works and do not repost or translate onto any other sites.

All the rights and credits of the characters, gifs, songs and pictures used here belongs to their rightful owners.

[southtopaz]

PSYCHO KILLER - SCREAM

Summary: in which Iris Morris has to navigate her personal relationships while surviving a psycho.

Warnings: Fem!reader, angst, violence, swearing, mention of knife, stabbing, mention of death, Amber freeman x Fem reader, Tara Carpenter x Fem reader, multiple parts.

Word count: +3,5k

A/n: the story will follow the events of Scream 5 and 6. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical mistake. Also I use Alycia Debnam Carey as Iris face claim but you all can use whoever you might like.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

 Iris stepped softly into the hospital room. Tara was engrossed in her phone, headphones on, seemingly unaware of her presence.

The room was quiet except for the soft beeping of monitoring equipment that kept track of her vital signs. A small, wheeled bedside table sat within arm's reach, holding a bottle of water and a stack of magazines. As Iris slowly moved into Tara's line of sight, Tara jumped, clutching her chest in surprise.

"Jesus christ, you scared me".

"Sorry, I didn't mean to spook you". Iris stared down at her feet not really knowing what to say.

"What are you doing here?" Tara made herself comfortable in her bed.

"Sam asked me to keep you company".

"Well I'm not going anywhere as you can see". The carpenter girl jokingly gestured at her broken leg.

"She's worried about you, we all are". Iris looked up to Tara, already finding the girl staring at her.

"Even you?" She whispered.

"Of course, I can't wait for all this to be over so you can be safe". She then quickly added. "So we can all be safe".

"So... what are you watching?". The girls continued to make small talk trying to ignore the last conversation they had but it wasn't too long before Tara just couldn't take it anymore.

"Iris" Tara carefully called out to her. The other girl nodded at her to continue. "About the other day..."

"Tara, I think it's better if we just let it be". Iris turned her head away unable to mantain eye contact. "Maybe it's time to forget and start over, it had been a long time and I'm tired of fighting". Iris was being honest, what happened with Tara hurt her but with everything that was going on it just seemed so minuscule. They could die at any moment and here she was, being petty at something that happened when they were 15.

"What letter?" It's like Tara didn't even hear what the other girl said, she just needed to ask the one thing that had plagued her mind for the past two days.

"What?"

"You said you wish you never gave me a letter". Tara threaded carefully into her next words. "Iris you never gave me a letter".

What

What

What the fuck

"Tara please, I'm trying to forget and be nice, don't make it hard".

The carpenter girl incorporated herself as best as she could while mantaining eye contact. "Iris you need to believe me, I have no idea about that letter and I know for a fact that I never sent you that text you talked about". Iris went to stand up but Tara was faster and gripped her hand forbiding her from leaving.

Tara was basically desperate at this point, she needed Iris to believe her. "Please, I would never lie to you".

Iris felt her mind shatter into million pieces as she realized that everything she had believed for the past two years might had all been wrong.

"You... you never read it?".

"No, look I don't know when you think you gave me that letter but I never received it so It couldn't have been me the one that wrote you that text. I would never do something to hurt you Iris". The girl felt her eyes watered at the despair in Tara's voice. She never knew why Iris hated her out of nowhere but now that she knew it was because of something she had no idea of, she needed the girl to understand that.

"Fuck". Iris didn't want to believe her at first but Tara's eyes reflected nothing but sincerity and she just knew that she was telling her the truth. She felt like the most stupid person in the world. "How is it possible?"

"When was this? I need you to tell me everything".

"It was in september two years ago, I wrote you a letter and I left it in your locker in where I knew you would find it".

"You left it in my fucking locker?". Tara was looking at her incredulously.

"Yeah? I'm sorry I didn't have the guts to give it to you in person".

"Why not? What did it say?"

A deep blush raced up Iris's cheeks as she looked at everywhere but Tara. The girl noticing this called out her name.

"It was me writing about..." she stuttered, her voice seemed to fail her at the moment. "About my crush on you". Iris felt Tara take a sharp intake of breath as her mouth hung open.

"I didn't know how to tell you in person, so I wrote it in hopes you would understand, but you never saw it".

"You had a crush on me?" Of all the things Tara expected, that was nowhere on the list. Her heart thundered in her chest, her cheeks flushed a deep pink, and she struggled to find her words.

"Umm yes but don't worry it was like a thousand years ago so it's totally in the past". She hurriedly tried to assure the girl. "I'm sorry".

"What else did it say?". Tara asked once her voice seemed to find the words again.

"That I would give you some time to think of your answer whatever it might have been and to meet me in our place at 7pm".

"At the tree house on 97 street".

"Exactly". Iris nodded at her words, remembering the place she hadn't put a foot in two years. "I waited for three hours and you never showed up and then I received that text".

"I wasn't mad because of the rejection, I would've dealt with it. I was mad because you didn't even show up and then sent me a text telling me how disgusted you were by me and then the next day you acted like nothing happened". Iris felt a heavy knot of remorse settle in the pit of her stomach. "And now It turns out it wasn't even you, you had no idea".

Tara squeezed her hand tightly and Iris squeezed back. "I'm sorry Tara, I hated you for something you had no idea, I should've known".

"I don't blame you, you let yourself be vulnerable, something that I know it's not easy for you". Tara reassured her with a little smile as she caressed the palm of her hand with her thumb. "And you thought I turned my back on you in the worst way possible, I would've reacted in the same way if it was me".

"You know, you don't have to be so considerate, you can tell me to fuck myself, you would be right".

"Probably, but honestly? I don't give a shit, I just want us to be okay". Tara leaned forward helping Iris dry her tears. "It might take us a while to move on and forgive but there's nothing I would like more".

Iris hugged her and both of them felt like some weight left their shoulders. They missed each other despite everything and now they could finally heal. After some time in silence just enjoying each other's presence, Tara asked another question that came into her mind.

"Did you put the letter in my locker around mid September?" Iris looked at her with a confused face. " Strange question I know, but I remember there was a day where I lost my phone for a whole day. I thought I lost it and then I found it on my locker the next morning".

"I thought I looked past it but what if I didn't, and someone took it, wrote you that text and then left it back there without any trace?".

Iris paused in thinking, it seemed far fetched to think someone would do something like that but the thing is, she did write that letter on September 16th. She remembered because it was three days before a short trip she took with her mom. "I did wrote it in mid September, but how could some random person know about it?".

"It doesn't have to be a random".

"What you mean?".

"Did someone know about your feelings?". Tara had a hard time saying those words without blushing like crazy but Iris didn't notice while being deep in thought.

"Well I only told Mindy and then one time talking about it with her, Amber overheard us and then I had to tell her too". She had a thoughtful face. "Then it was Mindy the one that came with the idea of writing you a letter and Amber and me thought it was a good idea".

"So Amber knew"

"Yeah? What about it?"

"Iris, only one person knew my locker combination apart from you and you guys started dating an year after we stopped talking". Tara's heart sank as she thought that maybe the reason her and Iris drifted apart was her own best friend.

No. Absolutely no way. Iris refused to think her girlfriend had anything to do with the letter incident. This was Amber, the girl she was in love with, the girl who had been there for her and made sure she always felt loved. She would never do something like this. "No Tara, you're wrong, I don't like what you're implying".

"I'm sorry, but can you tell me it sounds that insane to you?".

"Yes it does, this is Amber we are talking about, my girlfriend and your best friend".

"And you think I enjoy feeling this way? I wish I were wrong," Tara said, her jaw tightening with every word. "Look, all I know is that if I had received that letter, everything would be different now."

"Why?" Iris whispered, her voice barely audible but resonating with both of them.

"Because I would've been on that fucking tree house the moment I finished reading it". The implications of her words weren't lost in any of them but Iris didn't want to dwell on it, so she excused herself for a moment and left the room to clear her mind.

She came back a few minutes later and both of them silently agreed to stop the conversation. Tara knew that maybe it was too much for Iris and even though she knew something wasn't right she decided to let it go. She had just gotten her best friend back, she wasn't going to ruin it.

The two of them started watching TV, laughing at whatever comment they would throw till the eerie creak of the floorboard shattered the otherwise peaceful atmosphere of the room. Both girls looked at each other in alarm and Iris stood up getting closer to the door.

"Hello?" She peeked her head to watch the hallway and she saw no one. The deputy that was supposed to watch over Tara was gone. The place seemed oddly silent, making both girls tense.

"No one is here". Iris muttered. "I don't like this".

Suddenly the lights go off and Tara gives a little whimper. "Fuck this, we need to get out of here". Iris ran around the other side of the bed and helped Tara take out the cables attached to her body. Tara took Iris's hand, and the brunette lifted her into the wheelchair close to her as she felt jolts of pain shooting through her leg and hand. She could see Tara's tears making way through her face so she squeezed her shoulder tightly as a way of reassurance and started moving the wheelchair.

Once they got through the door and into the hallway, Iris's phone went off scaring both girls to death. She had forgotten it in Tara's room.

"Let's keep moving" Tara whispered to her and Iris obediently keep walking without making a sound.

Tara let out a whimper as she felt pain in her ankle but all Iris could do was grab her hand in comfort and keep on strolling so they could get out of there fast. Suddenly Tara cried out in alarm, her hands snapping to her mouth. Iris peered around the corner, and her eyes widened in astonishment. There was a police officer laying in the floor with blood pooling around his body. Iris got closer to his body in search of his gun and it was gone.

"Fuck, the gun. It's gone". Just as she was about to say something else, they heard a loud crash coming from somewhere else. Iris froze for a moment, unable to think before a cry from Tara woke her up from her stupor.

"We're going to die". The carpenter girl silently cried.

"Tara, look at me". Iris cut in before the girl started to spiral into desperation. She crouched down to her level and grabbed both of her cheeks between her hands. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you okay? Someone dares to touch you and I'll fucking kill them". Tara's lips tremble in fear but she nodded at her friend's words.

"Let's hide in that room". She quickly grabbed the wheelchair and turned it around, hurrying towards there as fast as she could.

Now inside the room, she tried to find some kind of weapon they could use and she saw a telephone. The line wasn't working but they could use it to punch someone. She signaled Tara to grab it. Iris eased the door shut just enough to still be able to peer into the hallway. As they heard footsteps getting closer to them, Iris positioned herself beside Tara and they both got ready to attack. 

A figure appeared at the door and Tara quickly punched them with the telephone as Iris threw herself at them to push them into the wall, putting them far away from Tara.

"Goddamn it!" Richie screamed while touching the back of his head.

"Richie?" Tara asked as Iris separated herself from the man. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Sam called. She said that you were in trouble" Richie explained himself, preventing Iris from getting closer to him. "Did you just push me into the wall?" Before Iris could ask him more questions, they saw a Ghostface mask appeared behind him and both girls shouted in horror.

"BEHIND YOU" Iris shouted putting herself in front of Tara as Richie turned around fast enough to prevent Ghostface from stabbing him right in the neck, instead he sliced him in the arm.

The masked attacker kept on trying to hurt him while Richie prevent him from doing so by blocking his wrist until he was slammed into the door dropping unconscious.

He gradually shifted his gaze from Richie to Iris and Tara, who were paralyzed with terror. Ghostface seemed to take another long second to observe Iris tilting their head to the side. He took a step towards them and Iris prepared herself as she grabbed a heart monitor and threw it at him, managing to put him to the ground for a little bit. She quickly grabbed Tara's wheelchair and got her out of the room.

"Tara you need to keep moving, I'll distract him" Iris didn't wait for an answer as she  push the wheelchair as hard as she could, making it move on its own. She tried to ignore Tara's calls to her as she turned around and came face to face with the attacker. For a moment everything seemed to still until Ghostface made a swing at her. She managed to dodge it and punched the attacker in the stomach. She heard a slight grunt coming from behind the mask before he lunged forward at her knocking the air out of her lungs as both of them fell to the floor. Ghostface made no attempt to stab her but he grabbed her head and slammed it against the floor enough times to make her dizzy. He then let go of her and started walking towards Tara who was still trying to push her way forward.

A faint ringing of a cell phone echoed in the hallway as Iris tried to stand up while her head felt like it was about to explode. She had a hard time trying to stable her vision but she could still hear Tara's cries.

"Hello, Samantha," his voice echoed through the floor. Iris tried to stable herself while pushing her body against the wall. 

"Richie can't come to the phone right now," he said darkly, resuming his slow walk down the corridor while playing with his knife. "He's discovering what happens to those who stick their noses in things that doesn't concern them."

"I'll tell you what". Ghostface proposed an idea.  "You can choose. I'll only kill one." After moments of silence, she could only assume Sam was talking, Ghostface spoke again.

"Who do you want to hear die?

"Really?" he asked. Iris managed to stand up as she started to silently make her way towards Ghostface "You can't save your own sister? All you have to do is say kill Richie".

Suddenly he pushed Tara out of her wheelchair and the girl screamed in agony as she fell into the floor. Just as Tara started to crawl away from him and Ghostface tried to attack her, Iris threw a fist into the side of their head making them stumble in shock. As they turned around, Iris jumped them and quickly threw another punch into the mask that made her whole arm burn in pain. While he was distracted by the punch, Iris lunged forward at them and straddle their hips as she kept throwing punches at them, the attacher trying his best to dodge them, but she could hear the slight grunt of pain coming from him.

"Don't fucking touch her" as she said those words referring to Tara, a new wave of rage overcame Ghostface as he gripped tightly into his forgotten knife and stabbed her in the thigh, making her yelled out in pain.

"Iris no please leave her alone". It seemed like Tara's words only infuriated him more, as he took out the knife and pushed her off her. He stood up and once he saw Iris on her knees clutching at her bloody thigh, he kicked her in the head, making her fall into the floor for a second time but now unable to move as she felt the blood oozing from her nose.

Ghostface grabbed the telephone again and spoke.

"Or say, 'Kill Tara" he pretended as if nothing happened. "And I'll make sure to hit all the organs I missed last time."

Iris couldn't hear nor see anything, all she could feel was pain and despair at feeling completely useless and unable to save the people she cared about. "I can also just kill Iris, she fought so hard, it would be such a shame, isn't it Samantha?".

"Fuck you!" Tara yelled out from the floor, groaning as she pulled herself along the floor.

"Last chance to save one" Ghostface remarked for the last time, hovering over Tara with his knife up high. "Choose."

"Why are you doing this?" Sam sobbed over the phone.

"You want to know why, Sam?" Ghostface growled "Maybe it's because you're a selfish bitch, who can't even make a decision to save the life of someone you love. Maybe you're too weak for this franchise."

The elevator doors slid open with a faint chime, showing Sam and Dewey inside and suddenly Dewey started shooting at Ghostface, making him quickly take cover in another room.

"Iris!" She heard Dewey called out to her as he helped her stand up. "Are you okay?" He took notice of all the blood in her face.

"I feel like shit, Richie is passed out in that room". She weakily pointed the place she was hiding at first with Tara. "I can't move Dewey, just leave me here and make sure everyone gets into safety".

"Shut up Iris, I couldn't save your sister but I can save you". He wrapped his hand around her waist and quickly helped her walk until they got into the elevator, once he made sure she could stand for herself, he went to look for Richie. Iris felt her head spinning as she focused on watching Sam helping Tara. She felt a smile crept into her face as she saw the girls getting closer to safety.

Dewey managed to pick Richie up from the floor and they were both making their way to the elevator where the other three girls were waiting.

"Shit Iris you're bleeding". Tara pressed a hand in her cheek inspecting her closely.

"It's okay don't worry". Iris put her hand on top of her and smiled softly through her pain.

Just as Dewey and Richie were getting closer to them, Ghostface jumped at them and tried to slice Dewey in the face while Richie tumbled backwards. Dewey managed to dodge Ghostface's attacks as he pulled out his gun and fired at him but he got out of the way before any bullet could reach him.

Ghostface push Dewey to the floor, the gun slipping from his hands. Now on top him, Ghostface pushed the knife down to his chest, while Dewey forced him away by hitting his head against theirs.

"Not today". Dewey grunted with pain as he grab his pistol from beside him and pulled the trigger three times, hitting the attacker right in the chest as he fell backwards into a shelve, covering him with glass.

Dewey quickly stood up and shoved Richie forward as they entered the elevator and presses the button to the first floor. Iris let out a sigh of relief when she saw everyone safe and what seemed to be the death of Ghostface.

"The head". Dewey stopped the doors from closing. "You have to shoot them in the head or they always come back". He explained as he was already making his way back to the scene.

"Dewey no don't you dare come back". Iris pleaded with the man as she tried to hold into his arm to stop him.

"Dewey who gives a fuck?" Sam hissed wildly as she held into Tara.

"I do" he smiled softly at them and stepped out of the way. Iris tried to follow after him but Richie wrapped his arms around her preventing her from moving as the doors closed, letting Dewey alone with Ghostface.

"NO FUCK NO"

[krispycreamcake]

Weeping Angel

From author: I'm in the mood for ayayui angst, so here's a short story I pulled out my ass

A gush of wind flew past her threads of gold, causing her to shiver uncontrollably. The night wrapped around her frail frame like a velvety cloak, studded with iridescent stars, decorating the darkness into something that could only be described as straight out of the palm of God.

She clutched her rosarie, blue fingers wrapping around the red gems on the cross. She silently prayed for forgiveness, for repentance, for survival. God wouldn't answer, he couldn't hear her over her screaming cries. As her fingers brushed past the stone walls of that oh so cold mansion, she could only think of all the horrible atrocities that she'd been through, of the vile acts that have been committed in those very walls to not just her, but to hundreds of women alike.

Her footsteps quiet and swift as she took off, shoes nowhere to be seen. Her bare feet crunched the leaves and pebbles under her as she muttered quiet prayers. Vampires were nocturnal, they were built for the dark, molded by Satan himself to hunt any creature that dare show its face in the pale moonlight of the earth.

Wrists were bruised blue and black from the chains Ayato had put her in. She can't remember what led to the argument but she did remember how he threw her to the floor and choked her almost completely lifeless. She woke up bound to the dungeon's walls for who knew how long until Subaru set her free. His eyes filled with guilt and disgust as he watched her from the balcony, waiting, lurking, for the right time to leave.

Yui's heart raced as the creatures of the twilight zone all started to harmonize, singing, begging for her to turn back, go back to the only home that would accept her as she was. She shook her head and ran further into the forest, randomizing her directions so it'd be harder to track her down, or at least that's what she hoped for. Could she truly outrun a vampire? Outrun Ayato?

Why was she even running? She's only endangering herself with a false paradise, her dream to make it out of there alive was just that, a dream. No- no, she had to keep running, she had to keep moving. The reason doesn't even matter now, what mattered was that she made it back home. Home... What a strange word. After everything, did she even have a home anymore? If everything she's learnt about her father- NO! She kept doubting herself, doubting even those around her. At that rate, she'll never hear the chatter of strangers on the streets again, or smell her father's cooking, or see the way the sky lights up for the Nagasaki lantern festival, she'll never feel the safety of her bedsheets comforting her after a scary movie.

She can't give it all up, she can't lose her sanity, she can't lose herself. The path in front of her was pitch black, she couldn't even see her own two hands. Snap. Her body froze as her breathing came to a halt. Yui's feet were glued to the ground below her. Her heart pulsed beneath her supple flesh, trying to burst through her chest. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on its edges as this beastly abomination lurked closer to where she was. She didn't have to guess, she knew it was Ayato, she could feel his predatory gaze stalking her. After living with them for so long she grew accustomed to the sound of his movements, of his footsteps.

She held her breath and in an instant she made a run for it in a random direction. Taking off with as much stamina as her body could siphon. Before she could take two steps in front of her, she felt her wrist get twisted as it was yanked backwards, almost popping her arm out of her socket. The injured female cried out in pain as the aggravated red head wrapped his arms around her body, her back pressing into his stomach. Ayato buried his head in the crook of her neck as tears flowed from his prey, almost choking on them.

"Let me go Ayato- Stop it! You can't do this to me anymore!" Yui screamed as she thrashed about, trying to free herself. Ayato slapped his hand over her mouth, refusing to look up from her neck. "Just shut up! I get it! I fucking get it! You want to leave-to run away with some other man and live some kind of fantasy! Well too bad.... I'm all you get.... All you have so you better-"

"ENOUGH AYATO!" Silence drowned them both as neither decided to take reign of the conversation. Yui decided to speak up knowing that Ayato would just turn this whole thing around on her. "I don't want other men- sometimes I don't even want to leave, all I wanted was you..." Ayato spun her around, clutching her bony shoulders, holding her still in place as he watched the expression on her face.

"Wanted?" Ayato repeated. If his heart could beat, it would be going crazy right about now. A cold sweat overtook him as his panicked gaze scanned her lifeless one. "I thought that maybe if we met each other under different circumstances we could've actually been friends, but..... Holding onto thoughts of 'what ifs' is only making me more miserable day by day." Ayato's grip on her began to falter as his body convulsed and shook.

"We can still-" Yui covered her ears and shook her head. "Just stop it Ayato, please! I'm not done." Yui said as she began to tear up once more. "It's gotten to where it isn't just me this is affecting, i- we can't live like this and it's become apparent that you're not going to change." Ayato gulped as a small stream of tears made its way down his face. Her heart aches as she wished she could just wipe his tears and make this all go away, but this isn't something that she can just make disappear, not this time.

"Heh..... Even when you're in so much pain, you're still thinking about others, after everything I've done to you. God you stupid woman, why can't you just be selfish for once!?" Ayato shouted out at Yui as a flood of emotions enveloped him.

"I am! I AM!" Yui retorted back almost violently. "I am being selfish Ayato... I'm not talking about you." The desperate vampire blinked away his tears. "Well who the HELL are you talking about?? There's no one else but us!" Yui's throat grew dry as she tried to figure out how to word her thoughts. Ayato grew impatient and began to shake her shoulders, demanding an answer.

"I'm pregnant! I'm.....oh god-.........I'm pregnant." That last part came out as a whisper as she fell to her knees and began to sob into her hands as Ayato stood there dumbfounded as the world around him began to spin. He crouched down next to her and wrapped his arms around her once again, taking her into his chest. "Yui-" His words were cut short as blood began to pool in his mouth.

Yui sat there as her hands clenched Subaru's knife. She split his flesh open and watched as the crimson liquid dyed her hair and clothes. His limp body fell with a thud as she wailed like a ghastly banshee, screeching into the night sky, as she held his pale face in her equally pale hands. Tears poured onto his bloodied body, coating him in cold mourning. She couldn't fix this, she couldn't pretend that she was ok anymore. Ayato was simply irredeemable.

[quigonswife8]

Okay: Leon Kennedy x reader

Leon thinks you die, so when he sees you alive he never wants to let you go again.

gif creds: @halfwayriight

Bold = Leon

You + Luis: normal font

Italics = Ashley

-

"(Y/N)!"

His voice cracks, breaking through the chaos of the night. His eyes, wide- shock filled. His body is frozen in place, almost as if an invisible force is willing it to. His heart picks up speed until it feels like it's going to give out, and his right hand reaches out in desperate need to touch you- to grab you and pull you.

Though as the building collapses, and that face he loves so dearly disappears from sight, it doesn't feel real.

"(Y/N) NO!"

The 27 year old begins to run towards the building, when he's suddenly stopped by the roof above collapsing and knocking him out.

....

....

"Ugh my head."

Leon's eyes slowly open, welcoming the dim night. He looks around the room, confused, and that's his eyes land on Ashley and Luis. Still disoriented he attempts to sit up which fails, as the pain from his head shoots back and leaves him groaning again.

"...where.."

"Leon!"

Ashley having just realised he's awake runs over to him, and hugs him.

"You're awake!"

"What..."

"You were knocked out."- Luis finishes, a few cuts and bruises on his face. "...we managed to find you before you were killed, and we brought you here." the Spaniard waves his hand. "...and lucky we did..."

Leon groans and clutches his head, his mind a swirl.

"(y/n)...where's..."

Leon looks around the room, having not remembered what happened yet.

"Where's (y/n)..."

Luis and Ashley exchange a look; Ashley looks near tears, and Luis is doing a perfect job of hiding his emotions. An unspoken silence between the two leads Luis to jog Leon's memory which he wish he didn't have to do.

"They're...they're gone-"

The door being thrown open so suddenly grabs the attention of the three. They look over at the door, almost-expecting to see one of those Ganado's because what's new. Though when the three focus ahead, they all look shocked...Leon especially, who stares wide-eyed.

His partner, his lover, they're standing at the door. One hand on their side, cuts and bruises scattered on their face. They look weak, disoriented, yet despite that, manage a smile.

"I'm here-"

Your eyes widen when Leon is over to you in no time, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you tight against his chest. He gasps, he clings to your body like he's making sure that you're there and he's not imagining things. He lets out a soft sob, his hands clinging clinging once more, the blood covering you touching him.

"You...you're-"

"I'm here baby..."

Despite the amount of pain you're in, that you wanna pass out, being in Leon's embrace is soothing now that you're back in his arms. Leon keeps you close to him, to his heart, and the two of you stand there, while Ashley and Luis watch on with smiles.

----

Leon glances over at you every so often, making sure you're still breathing.

"They're alright...physically."

The doctor tells Leon, jotting down some notes in his book.

"...mentally..." the agent nods, knowing already, cause why wouldn't you be mentally okay after all that you went through.

"Can I stay?"

"Of course."- the doctor nods. "I'll let you two be alone."- and he leaves the room and shuts the door, leaving you and Leon alone once again. Leon, who approaches the bed and sits down, his right hand intertwining with your left.

He watches the way you breathe, the way your mouth is slightly parted. The cuts and bruises on your body an example of your survival, and the bandage around your torse reminding him that he almost lost you.

It feels surreal; one minute he had seen you "die", the next you were back in his arms safe and sound. The last 24 hours have been insane but with you alive and well, things are already better. Leon squeezes your hand softly, not enough to wake you, but enough to let your subconscious know that he's there.

Leon gets comfortable on the chair, and spends the next few hours just watching over you until you wake.

-A few weeks later-

"Home sweet home."

Leon comes up behind you and kisses you on the cheek before hauling the stuff inside; you had offered to help, though Leon was insistent on doing it all himself.

"So glad to be home."

He places everything down by the couch, and turns to face you; his eyes soften, he smiles when you smile they're smile is so beautiful, and proceeds to walk back over to you.

Leon leans down, and surprises you when he wraps his arms around you, and scoops you up, his lips meeting yours in a loving kiss. You kiss him back, being spun around by Leon, who can't stop smiling.

"I love you Leon."

Leon swoons hearing those words, it never fails to make his heart hammer. Oh how he loves you so much, he's just so happy to have you in his arms alive and well, and now the two of you can spend time together which means more than anything.

"I love you too sweetheart. Now, let's go and relax." and, with his arms still holding you, and the softest smile ever on his lips, he carries you over to the couch.

[the-tomcat-disposable]

Me & Your Ghost

Summary: Andrew is grieving :3

This happens after Into The Mind.

CW: hurt and comfort in a sense, death & grieving

Andrew gasped and coughed as he broke his way out of the well and placed the fence post back in place. He recognized the world immediately and choked back tears that kept pouring as he looked around at the several structures scattered across the superflat landscape.

"This— I know this world," he sniffled as he wiped at his swollen eyes frantically, "this was our superflat world where he tried to show me how to build better..."

His fist hit the desk as the black figure stood around the corner of a nearby build, watching. "Why?! Chris! Why did you bring me here? Why are you dragging me along?! What is happening?!"

Andrew noticed a trail of signs illuminated by torches once he looked back at his screen, which he was sure weren't there seconds ago. He groaned and forced a chuckle, "ohh this again..." he muttered as he spun around, looking for a dark figure— the Smiler or Chris, whichever one shows up here if at all— and overlooked him as he hid.

"Chris, I know you're in my game somehow. Get out here!" he yelled. He stood and watched for a few moments before crying as he approached the signs. "Chris... I'm sorry I— I'm really sorry I didn't play with you more often. Are you really gone for good?"

He muttered something through his tears as he read the first sign.

[ He will not find you here. Time is not in your favor, though. ]

"Chris... cut the cryptic messages, just tell me— was that true? The— the diagnoses, the patient file, the records. You can't...— are you dead?" Andrew pleaded for answers as he walked towards the next sign and burst into tears upon reading it.

[ Yes. I am sorry, Andrew. I miss you. ]

Andrew sobbed into his hands for minutes, "I always kind of knew... I didn't want to...— fuck. Chris... You're gone, and I'm never going to see you— the real you— again. I never even got the chance to meet you in person... I was too late."

Chris watched from afar, clutching his chest with blocky hands. He wished he was able to get closer, to do anything but stand there and reach out a hand that can't be held. He, too, wished that this wasn't how things ended for him, and constantly dreaded what would happen if Andrew let his guard down for too long at the wrong time. Andrew was strong, he knew this, but he knew how the smiler played his games.

Andrew sniffled hard with a raspy "ow" as he sluggishly approached the next sign to read. There was another well not far from here.

[ Get back up. Remember me. Remember how much fun we had together. ]

Andrew huffed, "I know, I'm trying. I remember all— well, most— of it, but what will that help? I'll never get you back."

[ I am still here with you, I will always be. Remember me. You are my best friend. ]

Andrew sniffled and blinked away tears. "Are...?You're not... you can't— you're dead! I'm talking to your ghost, not you! It's not the same."

Chris hid behind a different structure as Andrew ran around the foot of a cobblestone statue of a Steve skin built to look as though it's in ruins, punching the mossy cobblestone and peaking inside its hollow leg to find a double chest with nothing except a bone inside, taking it silently. before exiting the structure to read the next sign.

[ ... ]

"Nothing? Nothing? Seriously?! No 'everything's fine'?!" Andrew hissed, considering closing the game and crying himself to sleep in the middle of the day. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. "Alright, what do you have to say next?"

The sign was placed on a poorly built fake creeper— two blocks of lime wool and a creeper head on top— the torches were placed on the sides and resembled arms. Andrew finally smiled for the first time in a while.

[ Remember when you put these everywhere in our creative worlds? ]

Andrew laughed (a genuinely laugh, though it was very dry), "I seriously thought they'd scare you so I put them in caves before you switched to survival. We had a lot of fun building really stupid things to scare each other. Yours always were better than mine..." Andrew looked around at the builds, punching towards one in the distance that looked like a creature from hell and hoped that it wouldn't start moving.

The next sign was placed at the base of a diving board that Andrew remembered the both of them working on. Andrew had never understood why Chris was so hesitant to work on the pool, but it looked more pool-like than if Andrew had built it.

[ Water makes your clothes cling to you. It feels like a cold hug. I wish it lasted. ]

"Um..." Andrew looked at the diving board, unsure if he wanted to go underwater again, "that's... um... that's not cheering me up, man."

Chris watched him hesitate reading the sign atop the diving board, before he decided that he'd check it out and climb back down. Once he reached the top, he looked into the pool and then at the surroundings. He recognized his several practice builds and Chris's across from them, then the well.

[ Remember how we would punch each other off of this? We had fun. ]

Andrew smiled again, "for old time's sake, yeah, I'll jump!"

He fake screamed as he fell into the water with a splash, and emerged with a satisfied sigh on the other side of the pool. "I missed that... Chris, I wish you were still here. Maybe you could've punched me off just then. Or— no, don't."

Chris looked on as he watched Andrew assess the height of the pool and jump, saying "ow" out loud as he took a few hearts of fall damage. There was another sign directly in front of him, then a few more before the well.

[ Your laugh brought me joy. I'm glad that we met. ]

Andrew's words caught in his throat as his eyes began tearing up again, "I miss you, Chris."

[ I miss you, too. ]

Andrew began sniffling again, looking back at their builds as he reached the next sign. "I'll miss this place. I wish we could build more stuff on it together, but..."

[ It's not your fault that you didn't know I was gone. ]

Andrew went quiet as he stared at the sign. He began to question what happened to Chris, if his family had held a funeral or...— oh God— was his family even there for him when he passed? Why had no one ever contacted him to tell him the news? Why did he have to learn in the way that he did?

Andrew slowly approached the next sign.

[ I should have told you sooner of what troubled me. I am sorry. ]

The tears came pouring out again as Andrew approached the next sign. "I miss you, Chris. I should have found a way to figure out what happened to you a lot sooner... but—"

[ What was done has been done. Look ahead now, Andrew. ]

Andrew looked at the well silently, and turned to look behind him as he felt eyes on him. Chris stood clearly in the open for a few seconds, then walked backwards until Andrew couldn't see him anymore.

"Chris—"

[chokememaximoff]

Beyond the Chaos III

Trained to obey, broken by Hydra, Y/N's identity blurs between soldier and survivor. Pulled from the chaos by the one person she once saw as an enemy—Wanda—she must fight to reclaim herself before the past swallows her whole.

TW: Torture, Brainwashing, PTSD, Violence, Abuse, Trauma, PanicAttacks, NonCon, Drugging, SelfDoubt, Loss, Captivity, Manipulation

As the night wore on, Y/N found herself trapped in a twisted dream, haunted by the specter of betrayal. In her slumber, Wanda materialized before her, a sinister smile twisting her features as she pleaded for mercy. Y/N stood frozen, a gun clutched tightly in her hands, the weight of her allegiance to Hydra heavy upon her soul. With a trembling hand, she pulled the trigger, the deafening crack of gunfire echoing in the darkness as Wanda fell at her feet, her cries of anguish ringing in Y/N's ears.

Gasping for air, Y/N jolted awake, her body drenched in sweat and tears streaming down her face. A gentle voice pierced through the haze of her terror, and she blinked in confusion as Lauren hovered over her, concern etched in her features.

"Are you okay?" Lauren's voice was soft, soothing in the midst of Y/N's turmoil.

Y/N could only nod mutely, her chest heaving as she struggled to regain control of her racing heart. Lauren swiftly unhooked the cuffs, pulling Y/N up to the bed and enveloping her in a comforting embrace.

"Breathe with me," Lauren murmured, guiding Y/N through calming breathing exercises. Gradually, the frantic rhythm of Y/N's breaths began to slow, the panic subsiding under Lauren's steady guidance.

Once Y/N had regained her composure, she hesitantly voiced her request. "Can I...stay here with you?"

Lauren arched an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. "And what if you try to run away?"

Y/N shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "Where would I go? I don't even know where I am. My parents are probably dead, and I have no one except Pietro. But I can't even see him."

After a moment of consideration, Lauren relented. "Okay, you can sleep in bed with me."

As they settled into bed, Y/N's mind continued to race, her thoughts swirling with fear and uncertainty. She tossed and turned, unable to find solace in the darkness.

But then, she felt strong arms wrap around her, the warmth of Lauren's body pressing against her back. Hot breath tickled her neck as Lauren murmured softly, "I'm here."

Surprisingly, Y/N felt her tense muscles begin to relax, the steady rhythm of Lauren's breathing lulling her into a sense of security. And as she drifted back into sleep, she clung to the older girl's presence, finding a fleeting moment of peace amidst the chaos of her shattered reality.

....

After two months of grueling training that pushed Y/N to her physical and mental limits, the moment of truth had arrived. Standing on the threshold of the arena, she couldn't help but feel a surge of apprehension coursing through her veins. The countdown on the big screen mocked her, each passing second ticking away the precious moments before her fate would be decided.

A touch on her lower back startled her, and Y/N turned to see Lauren, her smirk oozing with confidence. "Nervous, rat?" she taunted.

Y/N couldn't deny it. "Yeah," she admitted, her gaze flickering to the imposing figures around her. "Look at those guys. They're much bigger than me. I'm going to die."

Lauren's smirk widened. "No, you won't," she assured Y/N. "But if you want a little boost, I have something for you. But it has to be quick, and no one can see us, or we're in trouble."

Desperation clouded Y/N's mind as she nodded eagerly, willing to do anything to survive. Lauren turned away from prying eyes, swiftly administering a pill into Y/N's mouth with a kiss. Shock and confusion flashed in Y/N's eyes, but she swallowed the pill obediently.

"It'll work in about five minutes," Lauren explained. "It's Hydra's drug. Gives you crazy strength. It got me through all my tests with flying colors."

With a sense of trepidation and newfound resolve coursing through her veins, Y/N braced herself as the arena doors swung open, unleashing a horde of opponents hungry for blood. Lauren's parting words echoed in her ears: "Make me proud, rat."

As the chaos of battle unfolded, Y/N's senses sharpened, the drugs coursing through her veins heightening her every instinct. She targeted the weaker opponents first, her heart heavy with the weight of each life she ended.

But then, as the drugs took hold, Y/N felt a surge of power coursing through her, numbing her pain and sharpening her focus. A formidable opponent charged at her with a knife, but Y/N's movements were swift and precise. With unnatural strength, she twisted the assailant's arm, the sickening crunch of bone reverberating through the air. She didn't hesitate as she took the knife and plunged it into her opponent's chest, the rush of adrenaline drowning out the screams of pain.

Another adversary attacked, raining blows upon Y/N's face, but she barely felt the impact. Laughing in the face of danger, she spat blood into her attacker's eyes, seizing the opportunity to gain the upper hand. With savage ferocity, she unleashed a relentless assault, each blow fueled by the drug-induced strength coursing through her veins.

One by one, Y/N dispatched her opponents, her movements fluid and precise, her mind consumed by a primal instinct to survive. And as the final opponent fell at her feet, the arena erupted into cheers of triumph.

In that moment of victory, Y/N felt a sense of belonging she had never experienced before. No longer a mere sidekick, she had proven herself worthy of Hydra's ranks. And as she stood amidst the roar of the crowd, she couldn't help but feel a sickening sense of satisfaction, knowing that she was no longer just a pawn in someone else's game, but a force to be reckoned with in her own right.

After the brutal ordeal in the arena, Y/N sought solace in the simple routine of daily life within the confines of Hydra's compound. She took a long, scalding shower, the hot water washing away the remnants of blood and sweat, but unable to cleanse her conscience of the atrocities she had committed.

Emerging from the shower, Y/N found herself in the company of Lauren, the older girl serving as an unexpected anchor amidst the chaos of her new reality. Together, they made their way to the cafeteria, where Y/N hoped to find a fleeting moment of respite.

But her brief reprieve was shattered when Pietro materialized out of nowhere, his presence jolting her from her thoughts. He pulled her aside, his touch gentle yet firm as he examined her battered face and dilated pupils, a stark contrast to the vibrant, spirited girl he once knew.

"Y/N, this isn't us," Pietro lamented, his voice heavy with sorrow and disbelief.

Y/N recoiled slightly, her defenses rising instinctively. "Pietro, what the fuck is 'us' actually?" she retorted bitterly. "I only have this now. Everything else I knew is gone or dead. And I'm sure I'm better off this way. Being 'good' never got me anything except almost getting killed."

Pietro's heart ached at the sight of his best friend's desolation, his own anguish reflected in her eyes. "You're on fucking drugs, Y/N," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion.

Y/N shrugged, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "So what, Pietro? Maybe I should have died instead of it."

Tears welled up in Pietro's eyes as he gazed at his friend, his heart breaking at the sight of her broken spirit. "Y/N, I can't do this. I can't live like this. It ain't right."

Y/N's expression softened, her resolve momentarily faltering as she reached out to embrace her best friend. "You have to deal with it to survive," she murmured, her voice tinged with sadness and resignation. "I'm here for you, Pietro."

With a heavy heart, Y/N released Pietro and turned back to Lauren, forcing a mask of normalcy over her turmoil. Lauren's concerned gaze met hers, and Y/N offered a reassuring nod before taking a seat at the table.

As she picked at her food, surrounded by Lauren and her friends, Y/N couldn't shake the sense of isolation that gnawed at her soul. But amidst the clamor of voices and the clinking of utensils, she found a fleeting sense of belonging, a fragile semblance of normalcy in the midst of Hydra's twisted reality. And for now, that would have to be enough.

As Y/N sat at the table with Lauren and her friends, the older girl offered her a joint, a small attempt to ease the tension that hung heavy in the air. But Y/N shook her head, declining the offer with a solemn expression. "No, thanks. I don't want to do drugs if it's not needed," she said quietly.

Lauren nodded understandingly, respecting Y/N's decision without question. "Alright, suit yourself," she replied with a shrug, taking a drag from the joint herself.

Later, as the meal concluded and the group began to disperse, Y/N approached Lauren hesitantly. "Do you know where Pietro is staying?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Lauren nodded, offering Y/N directions to Pietro's quarters. "Just go down the hall, take a left, and it's the third door on your right," she explained, her tone sympathetic.

Y/N thanked her softly before making her way across the compound to Pietro's room. Knocking on the door, she called out his name, but there was no answer. Trying again, she identified herself, pleading for him to open the door, but still, there was no response.

With a sinking feeling in her chest, Y/N tested the doorknob, surprised to find that it was unlocked. Pushing the door open, she stepped inside, and her worst fears were realized.

Pietro hung from a rope tied to the ceiling, his lifeless body swaying gently in the dim light of the room. Y/N's heart stopped as she rushed to his side, tears streaming down her face as she frantically tried to undo the noose and revive him.

The sound of her screams echoed through the room, drawing the attention of nearby Hydra members who rushed to assist her. Together, they tried in vain to save Pietro, but it was too late.

Y/N collapsed beside Pietro's body, her cries of anguish filling the room as she clung to him, unwilling to accept the reality of his death. The other Hydra members stood by solemnly, allowing her to grieve in peace.

When Lauren arrived, the sight of Y/N cradling Pietro's lifeless form broke her heart. Without hesitation, she knelt beside Y/N, wrapping her arms around her and offering whatever comfort she could.

Y/N turned to Lauren, her eyes filled with tears, and without a word, she buried her face in Lauren's chest, seeking solace in the embrace of the only person who truly cared about her. And as they held each other, the weight of their shared grief hung heavy in the air, a silent testament to the bond that had been forged through adversity.

[physics-of-one-piece]

Hello! Reading Merlots and Primroses makes me cry pretty much the second you mention Rosinante. The cabbage scene was so cute and the panic attack Reader was having in the bathroom hurt like a bitch to read - very visceral and well-written.

I'm on my period as well so that definitely ain't in favor of not being emotional as heck over this.

So yeah! My ask is... please comfort me. Thank you!

Any wholesome Rosinante headcanon from a universe where he survives will do!

Hi, anon!

I'm sorry to have made you sad but it happens and prob will again! I loved the cabbage scene. I wanted to write it for a while, and I'm very happy with it.

(hands you warm tea and heat pads) I hope your period isn't too painful.

I'm like Doffy at comforting people, I suck, but I'll give it a go!

Rosinante & Law return to the house and you find out they're back by the CRASH and the "Damn it, Cora-san! You ruined our cool homecoming!" followed by "I'm sorry 😭" from sweet Rosinante

You see Rosinante & Law on the floor. The white blotches on Law's face are gone, and the colour is back to his cheeks. They both perk up when they see you at the stairs and both grin at you. Rosinante shows you a thumbs up and says “Mission success!”

You practically throw yourself at Rosinante and bawl into him and clutch Law to your chest and Law gets all embarrassed about it but does hug you back and...

Well Law starts crying and bawling like crazy (seems he was bottling it up, who could have guessed) and starts thanking you and Cora-san for saving him, how he'll be forever grateful for what Cora-san did for him.

The "Hey, Law! I love you!" happens, and Law smiles through his tears and hugs Cora.

Then Law hugs you.

Lots of "I love you's" are exchanged.

Law refuses to leave Cora's side, so he sleeps with you and Cora in your bedroom. Ends up sleeping star-fish across Rosinante's torso and drooling.

Doflamingo does find out about Rosi being married. Can't risk leaving his crew so the one thing that wakes you all up is Cora's Corazon den den mushi ringing.

You pick up.

Doflamingo hangs up when you say "Hello?" cus he gets stage fright bcs he didn't think you'd sound nice. He got NERVOUS, okay?!

He gets a call from Cora's den den mushi ten minutes later.

When Cora realises it's Doffy he steps out of the bedroom.

Doflamingo TEASES Rosinante like hell on earth about "having a pretty wife" and "how could you not invite me to the wedding, I'm your brother" and "I was supposed to be your best man!" honestly Doflamingo is just buying time bcs he's hurt and he doesn't want to talk about it all but he should

Rosinante says he destroyed his Navy report (he did) and shares what he will tell Sengoku so Doffy can work around it. In return for that, he wants Doflamingo to leave him, you & Law alone.

The most childish “Fine!” is said from Doflamingo.

Cora goes down to have pancakes with you & Law

Doffy becomes warlord as per canon and he finally gets to meet you 3 years later. He brings wine and flowers and a pink teddy bear for his newborn niece as well as a flamingo onesie because just HAD to.

Best evil uncle ever, gives raspberries that make your & Rosi's daughter laugh and giggle. She loves her Uncle Doffy.

Law still forms the Heart Pirates but never targets Doflamingo

Vice Admiral Rosinante & Warlord Doflamingo, please and thank you.

Dressrosa never goes against Doffy (sorry, Dressrosan people) and he stays its king