#no more hiding on the pitch or passing and praying

[mistyorchid]

Logan's Girl

Old Man!Logan x fem!reader

summary: A sentimental anniversary gift for Logan reveals your biggest insecurity—saying three vulnerable words. inspired by this ask :) warnings: MDNI, no use of y/n, fluff, some suggestive elements (gets a little steamy you guyss), established relationship, age gap, reader is 21+, insecure!reader, pet names (baby, darlin', bub, doll), I'm a hopeless romantic. wc: 1.8k

This wasn’t you. It couldn’t be. The figure swathed in delicate lingerie has to be a figment of your imagination, a misty apparition in the mirror. Surely, you were staring back at a different woman’s face. You wanted to wrap yourself in something sheer, something to heighten the overwhelming feeling of sensuality that you had learned to love and trust.

It was unbearable to watch him leave the warm oasis of your bed every night. “‘M sorry, baby. Gotta take this shift,” he sighed. He ghosted the words happy anniversary against your lips before pulling a velvet box from under the nightstand. Logan marveled at how your eyes shined just as bright as the pearlescent necklace.

You blush as you remember how his strong hands gently traced your collarbones before fastening the dainty jewelry around your neck. The romantic gesture made your heart swell with pride in being his.

He had been somewhat of a lone cowboy before you met; indulging in alcohol and one-night stands in dive bar bathrooms. You managed to rope him in and cement his life in something tangible. Every time you heard the iron door rattle against the smelting plant’s walls, you prayed to the night sky to protect him from harm.

Logan chastised your insistence on feeling so immensely—he often joked that your emotional sensitivity was a hallmark of “your generation,” a crack meant to be salved and fortified. He knew, however, that your concern for his mental well-being stemmed from a place of genuine concern.

It’s been four hours since Logan crossed the threshold of your home onto the organic gravel of the earth. An unbearable void in your heart that called for him to return is soured by an uneasy wave of dread stemming from your current predicament.

It looks like the Hallmark Channel rented your bedroom for an intoxicatingly sweet, PG-13 love scene. Although, your thoughts bordered on NC-17. The sap didn’t stop there. A fresh trail of rose petals was scattered on the floor, leading from the front door to a glossy, heart-shaped box of truffles on your bed.

Skittish tendrils of insecurity creep up your body until a surge of warmth festers behind your cheeks. In the time it took to pace a hundred laps around the bedroom, two more hours passed. A harsh clanging sound reverberates against your brain. You pray that it’s a figment of your imagination, a temporary symptom of your shame-induced anxiety.

Logan haphazardly kicks off his boots while loosening his tie. “I’m home, darlin’!”

Shit. You're totally fucked. That is the plan, but hearing Logan’s heavy steps against the linoleum floor sends you into an irrational frenzy. Your body reacts faster than your mind, quickly darting around the room to turn off the lights and dive under the comforter. “Great,” you whisper into the sheets. The room is pitch black except for the warm flicker of candles artfully placed on the nightstands. You wonder if Logan would find the dimly lit interior sexy or off putting. Surely, hiding under the covers like a goddamn vampire would get him rock hard.

He knocks to the tune of Shave and a haircut—two bits, a classic rhythm almost as old as him. Geriatric fucker.

“You decent?” he inquires. Two years together, and he still asks permission to open a closed door. He raised your standards for how a man should act from the depths of hell to the gates of heaven. He’s unbearably traditional sometimes, and you love it.

You wonder, then, why you regret the scent of lavender that lingers in the air. It’s a fragrant piece of evidence that smells too much like I love you. It was easy to lose yourself in the warm embrace of his body, molding yourself to his wandering hands. This display of romantic affection was too sappy, even for you.

“Yeah, come in,” you exhale before burrowing into the warmth of your bed. Maybe if you sink deep enough you’ll be swallowed whole.

Logan’s brows quirk upwards as he surveys the room, unable to identify the source of your voice. You know it’s time to face the music when he flicks the light on, illuminating everything.

His feet crunch softly against the petals strewn across the room, progressing towards the edge of the bed. Logan plops onto the comforter, knocking over the box of chocolates. He winces as he strains his back to retrieve it from the floor.

Logan gently peels the comforter away from your shrinking form. “What’cha doin’ under there, bub?”

You meet his eyes with a sheepish turn of your head, preparing for a judgmental gaze that would validate your insecurity. Instead, all you hear is a gruff laugh pour out of his mouth. 

“Hiding,” you reply meekly. His insistence on staring into the depths of your fucking soul is not helping. Goosebumps rise along your form as Logan slowly pulls down the rest of the blanket, finally revealing the sheer babydoll dress that clings to your breasts and floats everywhere else. 

Logan lets out a low whistle. “Jesus,” he whispers, “This for me?” 

You cross your arms over the lingerie. “Yeah, but I’m embarrassed—”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” he interrupts. Logan tugs on the end of the central ribbon until it loosens, revealing the tantalizing line of your cleavage. “Lady as lovely as you shouldn’t be embarrassed.” 

You’re quick to apologize. “I’m sorry. . .”

He stalls his hand as if he’s been burned. Your immediate reaction is to apologize again, but Logan silences you with an unabashedly needy kiss.

“Hush. I’m tryin’ to open my present.” He toys with the pearl looped around your neck, admiring how the smooth texture rolls between his calloused fingers. It serves as a familiar allusion to the duality your relationship provides—softness and raw grit intertwining to form an unbreakable union.

You bite your lip, suddenly feeling insecure under his shameless gaze. “Logan?”

“Yeah?” He drops the pearl charm and grazes your chest, smirking when he hears your breath hitch. It’s almost unsettling, how fast you unravel for him.

“How was work?” You inquire, hoping it convinces Logan to focus on your face instead of your exposed skin.

He hastily removes all of his clothes save for his boxers before tossing them onto the floor. “Same shit, different day,” he mutters. The days are long, the nights even longer. You never talked about the gruesome collage of wounds and overworked scar tissue that plagued his skin. Over time, he leaned into your healing presence, allowing himself to dissolve under the tender insistence of your care.

You giggle. “Miss me?”

Logan lovingly pats your hip with an outstretched palm—a familiar signal that he wants to take up prime real estate in your bed. The more, the merrier.

He shuffles under the covers and pulls your body parallel against his own. You shiver as his lips hover over the shell of your ear.

“‘Course I did,” Logan sighs. He draws comforting patterns along the length of your arm, effectively luring a subtle shudder from your parted lips.  “Heart’s poundin’, baby—You’re breathin’ awful fast. Gives me the impression this feelin’s mutual.”

The night is quiet, laced with an unspoken yearning. A wave of anxiety tells you to move, to seek shelter somewhere else, in someone else—an anonymous man who doesn’t know anything about you other than the fact that you’re a warm body. You bury yourself into Logan instead, feeding into the restlessness that radiates throughout your soul.

He hums into your neck. The sound is so domestic that your heart aches and blooms all over again.

Logan curses as he feels your hips subtly rock back into his sturdy frame. “I guess it is,” you agree. His palm caresses the strong curve of your jaw before turning your head towards him.

The hazel pools of his eyes have borrowed the depth of the night sky. He speaks in a reserved, yet ravenous tone.

“C’mon, darlin’. Gimme some sugar,” he mumbles against your lips. You comply, not because he ordered you to, but because his insistence washes away any feelings of doubt that sullied your mind.

An airy sigh echoes throughout the room, silently parting the air and ricocheting against Logan’s sensitive eardrums. He wraps his arm around your soft stomach, earning a faint whine. “Stop, Logan,” you plead. Cheesy anniversary gifts aside, one constant source of insecurity was your belly. Logan absolutely adored it, but you loathed the physical evidence of your sweet tooth.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says while shifting his warm palm to rest on your hip. “But don’tcha love it when you’re soft an’ I’m—” Logan pulls your ass flush against his noticeable bulge. “—hard?” He continues. You feel his smirk melt into the open expanse of your neck.

You allow yourself to be manhandled by Logan. It takes your breath away every time, cliche phrasing be damned. He uses his firm grip to turn you around until you’re face-to-face with his stupidly rugged . . . face. Ugh. You don’t know what’s come over you.

Logan’s warmth is all-encompassing. His hand wanders along your body before lightly caressing the back of your head to bring you further into his embrace. You let out a soft hum that vibrates against his chest.

A few minutes pass without any words at all. This is Logan’s comfort zone—intentional silence that gives him the space to communicate with action. The only difference now is that he indulges in quietude as a form of serenity rather than hostility.

“Hey . . .” he whispers. “You fallin’ asleep?” Each tender swipe of his hand flushes your cheeks.

“Mhm,” you affirm, faintly nodding. “I’m sorry, Logan. I really wanted to give you your present.”

He quickly kneads the tense folds of your furrowed brow. Logan exhales into the peak of your hairline. “Don’t worry, doll. ‘M tired too.”

You let out a sigh that’s deeper and more sustained than Logan’s. You don’t have to look down to know that he’s still hard. A tell-tale sign of his sensual pull towards you blooms behind his chest in a kinetic rhythm. He keeps you close, everywhere except near his bulge. What a gentleman. 

Your eyes open, quietly searching in the dark for the motivation to speak, to be faithful. As much as you adore Logan, you both find it difficult to verbalize your feelings.

“I love you . . .” you whisper, directed into the ceiling and stars beyond it instead of towards Logan. 

His palm finds your jaw again. He hovers inches away from your face, allowing your breaths to meet and interlace. An inaudible request to connect. 

The kiss is unbelievably earnest. You find shelter against the plush of Logan’s lips. He leans his forehead against yours, once again playing with the pearl necklace wrapped around your neck.

“I love you.”

You have matching smiles. The allure of rest is renewed once Logan lets out a loud yawn. Then, laughter fills the room.

The last thing you hear before succumbing to sleep is, “Happy anniversary, doll.”

His pet name for you is apt. Cared for, admired, cherished. 

Logan’s girl.

an: It's been a while. Thank you anon for sending in this lovely request. I decided to not include smut because I wanting to portray something a little more wholesome than usual. These are real lines of comic dialogue that also inspired me. "Lady as lovely as you shouldn’t ever frown." "Heart’s poundin’, Jeannie—You’re breathin’ awful fast. Gives me the impression this feelin’s mutual. Wanna bet?"

tag list: @bratscave @elflutter @fairiebabey @pointyxsole @scorpiosaintt @th3mrskory

[nor-ay]

Unrequited Love - Part Two

Pure Vanilla Cookie has always had more questions than answers. No matter how hard he tries, once he finds an answer, another doubt will surface in his mind. And that usually motivates him to keep going, but right now he isn’t sure if you want to answer his questions. 

 

He has noticed how your mind has been wandering somewhere far away from them, from him. The way you don’t look at White Lily Cookie in the eye and seem to avoid eye contact with him as much as possible. Pure Vanilla reasons that you are upset; that much is known. 

 

GingerBrave is worried about you; he told him how he found you troubled in the middle of the night. And he told him to keep this to himself to not worry everyone else, reassuring him that he would talk to you. But a part of him is a bit reluctant to do so, especially now that you’re all going to The Spire Of All Knowledge, to annoy you even more. 

 

…

 

Apple Fairy Cookie has kindly led you all to an inn in the middle of the woods. She doesn’t give you a good feeling, you think. You figure that it’s her high-pitched voice or the way that it’s really obvious how she’s scheming something, and you’re uneasy. So you abruptly get up to go outside, praying that nobody calls you out on it. 

 

“[name] Cookie? Is everything…” White Lily Cookie seems to think for a brief moment. “I mean, are you going somewhere? Would you like company?” 

 

You appreciate the effort she puts into trying to act as if you’re friends. And that, strangely enough, makes you a bit more frustrated, so you hide your hands behind you and feel how your fingernails dig into your palms. “I’ll be just outside; please don’t worry, and… I—I don’t need company.” So you get out of the inn and walk for a bit, not too far away, but far enough so that you’re alone. 

 

Fresh air always calms you down, so you sit down on the floor and close your eyes while hugging your knees, to comfort yourself for a while. A minute or two passes, and you feel something poking at your leg. Startled, you speak before comprehending that facing you is not a Cookie but a cute blue rag doll. “What do you—who? Uh…” You’re not sure of what to do, and before you can question its provenance, its little hands offer you an alluring and stunning gem hair clip—blue as well. You notice how the doll has a ringmaster suit and a jester hat that reminds you of him.

 

“Oh my…Is this for me?” The little doll nods profusely. “… Thank you, but… I don’t have anything I can give you in return, you know that, right?” It doesn’t seem to matter because the blue rag doll puts the hair clip in your hands and bows dramatically like a host of some sort before disappearing. 

 

“…” 

 

“[Name] Cookie!!” You hear your name being called, and GingerBrave is happily waving at you. “Come on, we’re going to the tower! Time for an adventure.” A smile makes its way into your face, and it feels the most genuine for the first time in a long time. As you walk towards the group, you put on the beautiful hair clip. Not realizing who could have made it reach you, or rather, not caring anymore. 

 

Apple Faerie Cookie squeals when she sees the ornament placed on your hair. “So pretty!! How did you get it, [Name] Cookie?” 

 

“Oh, this? A kind villager gifted me this hair clip. The nicest Cookie I’ve ever met, I must say.” You lie, and almost miss the smug smirk that appears on Apple Faerie Cookie’s face. “But enough of that! We have a place to explore, isn’t that right, Pure Vanilla Cookie?” 

 

“R-Right, well, shall we get going now?” Pure Vanilla answers, though he seems a bit fixated on the blue gem decorating your hair. In the background, you hear GingerBrave, Strawberry, and Wizard Cookie expressing their eagerness to learn as much as possible. 

 

While you all continue on the path that Apple Faerie Cookie leads, a feeling of contentment fills your heart, and you find yourself waiting for something to happen. All while White Lily Cookie observes how the ornament on your head starts shining even more brightly every time you all get closer to the tower.  

Thank you all for reading!! And for the support on my first fic ever. I’ve written this inspired by the last episode of Beast-Yeast, so if you want to understand this a bit better you should play it! So, there won't be a part 3 but I do have some ideas for some drabbles.

Chapter 3 - Part 1

[consultingskeletondetective]

Virginal, chapter 1

Michael accidentally discovers his dick while he's trying to kill you, and then he comes back for more.

Or: you awaken something animalistic and sexual in Michael Myers, and he cannot resist you in any way. You just hope you survive it.

masterlist ❤️🖤 ao3

chapter tags: serial killer, death, violence, blood, gore, weapons, knife, non con, female reader, rutting, forced orgasms

You didn't even know why you were running, not really. You could hear the heavy thud of his booted footsteps echoing almost cruelly in your ear. It was a cosmic joke, that no matter how fast you scrambled, Michael would always catch you, leisurely following behind as if your blood on his knife was a certainty he was merely playing into. 

Still you ran, into the pitch of night, darting between trees and praying to something that you didn't smack face first into one you couldn't see in the hellish gloom. You hear his breathing, amplified by the mask that hides his face from the world, as if it's ghosting over the flesh of your neck and leaving goosebumps there. 

You wail, low and stupid, as fear carries you, your trainers crunching loudly on every twig and leaf on the floor as if screaming 'follow me! find me!' and he does. 

Large thick fingers curl around the back of your neck like a solid brick and you squeak, terrified, as you're held immobile by Michael's gargantuan hand. Your fingers scrabble back, both of your hands barely able to close around his wrist, boiling hot and solid, as you try and tug him from you like you're batting uselessly at a statue. 

"Please - Michael - please don't do this, you don't have to - I don't…" 

You hear his breathing in your ear, the rubber of his mask against your cheek and you freeze, paralysed, as everything goes silent. 

In a rush of air you're swooped forward, pushed, until your forehead is richoteing off of a tree directly in front of you. You wail low in your throat as pain spirals out onto your face and down your neck, blood dribbling down your nose and into your mouth. You have no time to do anything else as you're yanked back, your body bowed against his, you can feel every hard line of his hulking form through his boiler suit, the small of your back only connecting with his thighs and you scream - expecting to be thrust forward again into the tree, expecting this to be the blow that kills you. Everything goes quiet again. Eerily quiet. 

Michael doesn't move you, his fingers still firm on the back of your neck, he keeps you tucked snug against him for minutes as if he was thinking. 

You're too scared to think, until your brain onlines from the pain and fear and you try again to scrabble your nails across his wrist, to wriggle your small body free and break his hold. His free hand comes sharply down, resting heavy and dangerous on your hip, you freeze again. His message is clear. Stop struggling.

His fingers curl dangerously around your hip, pinning you immobile against him, and your heartbeat is erratic in your chest. Why is he taking his time with you? Why doesn't he just end this? What's he going to do? Choke you? Shatter your pelvis with the barest flex of his fingers?

Moments pass, his grip on your hip tightens and he pulls you back into him, you scream, short and shocked, as he - he wriggles you against him, pulls you in tight to his hot heat, his thighs framing yours, large and muscular and intimidating and - and - is this fucker hard?

Your breath comes out in a stuttered exhale as you feel the unmistakable drag of Michael Myers' erect cock over the small of your back, just above the cleft in your ass. He's utterly silent still, except for that breathing, that hasn't changed pitch or volume, but you can somehow tell he's thinking, calculating, only if in the slowness of his movements. His hands on you are not gentle, you can feel bruises blossoming beneath his fingertips, but you're not dead. 

You'd never heard those kind of stories about Michael Myers before, as far as you knew he was pretty much sexless, either killing or comatose. You'd never heard even a single rumour that he got off on killing. It only served to increase your fear, making your death that much worse. He moved again, hips pistoning slowly until you feel his cock jam against the cleft of your ass and a sharp exhale leaves Michael's mask and he stills to a statue. Except his cock, his cock, twitches against your ass and you tremble violently. You're utterly defenceless and vulnerable, trapped in the arms of a brutal subhuman killing machine as he rubs his thick arousal against your defenceless, weak body. 

Something dribbles traitorously in your underwear. 

You feel it then, tears, hot and thick as the blood drying in rivulets down your face and you sob openly. You didn't want Michael Myers to fuck you, or kill you, so why were you clenching so hard? The white hot fear in you was making you crazy. The waiting, it was torture, you couldn't stand it - you were close to begging, but for what? For what? 

The hand on the back of your neck was gone, and your head snapped forward, tendons in your neck springing back to life painfully and you sucked in air through your scream-damaged throat. Then pain was shooting through your spine as something metal and sharp sliced down the skin of your back, nicking the tops of your trousers and the hands on you were gone completely as Michael seized the frayed edges of your slashed waistband, the muted rip of fabric being torn apart in his bare hands loud in the silent woods as he tore your jeans down to your thighs, leaving you exposed from the waist down in nothing but your panties. 

"No, no, no, Michael, please don't do this, you don't have to do this - I'm begging you -" 

He doesn't listen, maybe doesn't even hear you, as you hear the drag of teeth as he pulls his zip down and then there's nothing in the air but your twin breathing, Michael's measured and heavy, yours panicked and trembling. 

The hot weight of his stiff cock presses between your thighs, slippery with blood that had been dribbling down from your ruined back, and a burst of breath comes from his nostrils like a wild bull as he bucks into you, fucking the slick coppery cleft of your thighs, his gargantuan hands coming to rest on your hips, pushing your legs together to give him something tight and motionless to fuck into. 

You honestly don't know how to react, each one of his tight pistoning thrusts is hard enough to shake every bone in your body, and you can feel each ridge, each thick vein of what you can only imagine is an immense cock to match this immense man. You shake violently as he uses you, the sharp snap of his hips the only indication of what he's doing, his entire body is still, his breathing unaffected, the rubber of his mask brushing the back of your neck a constant reminder of how close he is to you, how fucked you were, figuratively and literally. 

You don't have time to wonder why he's doing this, to humiliate you? To get off without having to fuck you? Because his thrusts speed up, the height difference between you enough that he's lifting you off your feet with every upward brutal shift of his hips, and enough that he's jamming his thick cockhead, weeping with precome and slathering you as thick as the blood between you, against your clit with each thrust. 

The pleasure is sudden and all-consuming, the repeated rough treatment of your poor clit nothing you've ever experienced before, it's painful having your sensitive nub rubbed like this, merciless and uncaring, igniting waves of pleasure in you you didn't even know you could achieve. Your core feels violently hot, your thighs squeezing Michael's length of your own volition and he likes that, he must do, because he squeezes your thighs in response, whole body tensing, and it's the first time you've managed to communicate with the murderer in any way. 

You realise, with dizzying, bone-shaking horrific delight that you're going to come, his cock is too hard and unyielding against your clit. Your knees lift all by themselves, your thighs tense and shake as your vision blacks and you all but collapse back against Michael's body as pleasure ignites every one of your nerve endings. He doesn't stop fucking you through it, stringing out your orgasm until you're a jolting, trembling, mewing mess, every muscle twitching as you soak his cock with more than just your blood. Your cheeks are scarlet, your body alive and thrumming with fear and pain and you think your orgasm has hurtled you off into another realm. 

Your hands scrabble back to grab at him, seizing fistfuls of his boiler suit if only to anchor yourself as you babble. 

"Michael, Michael, Michael -" 

He stills completely, jammed right against your weeping cunt as you feel his cock pulsing, and suddenly your clothed and dripping seam is flooded with hot wet seed. He doesn't make a single sound, except for the flexing of his fingers on your bruised and wrecked thighs, he might as well be made of stone. 

You're trembling, you can't do anything else, shrill little animal screams of pure emotion ripping themselves from your throat every now and again before he's stepping back, releasing you completely, and your ruined body hits the woodland floor like a ragdoll. You feel twigs snapping under you and you register somewhere in your brain that it probably hurts. 

You roll onto your back, the biting sting of the cut and the devastation to your mottled and purple thighs, the size and shape of Michael's hands, making you twitch in pain but it's worth it to look up at him. 

He's stood where he first caught you, huge and towering, the emotionless mask not even out of place on his face. The only indication of what just happened was the opened zip on his boiler suit and his cock, good fucking christ his cock, hanging heavy and hard and scarlet with blood and white with come, if it had been inside you it would have torn you apart, of that you're certain. 

You hazily register that you're going to die now, you've served your usefulness, Michael Myers' cooling come between your legs a testament to that. You know you should run, but your feel drugged somehow, fuck drunk, your brain supplies somewhat stupidly. How pathetic was that? How pathetic was it that arousal shot through you even now at the mere sight of this colossal beast standing in front of you? 

He doesn't look at you as he zips himself back up again, not bothering to wipe his cock as he does. He might be looking at you, you'll never know. But those blank eyes seem to be staring ahead as he bends and retrieves his knife, crusted in your blood just like his cock was. 

Lazily, your hands find purchase as you try and push yourself up, animal brain finally kicking in to tell you to move now, or you're going to die. A sharp incline of his head stills you, he's definitely looking at you now. His mask cocks, regarding you almost, and your heart stutters and stops. 

It barely begins beating again as he turns his hulking form around and disappears off into the trees. 

What, your brain tries, Where is he going?

There's nothing around you but trees, you hug the nearest one to you when you finally stand, seeing the outline of your own blood there in the dim moonlight. 

That shakes something in you, and you remember the pain in your forehead, concussed probably right? That's why you'd acted like such a maniac. Your whole body ached with pain and shock. 

But you were alive. 

Why?

link to chapter 2

[livinginshambles]

I needed to hear you say it | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: Unrequited love on both sides, James' side in part two– You're in love with James who, despite knowing about your feelings, ignores it as he doesn't want to lose you by rejecting you. After a rejection, you get over him and leave him strangely enough, conflicted.

Notes: I was not going to post anything until I got back from holidays, but it’s really short, so here it is anyway! Not proofread and typed on a phone ;)

Masterlist Part two

______________

“I’m sorry.”

You shook your head at his words, assuring him that it wasn’t his fault. After all, you don’t choose who you fall in love with. It just happens. Just like how you don’t choose who you don’t fall in love with.

The words "I don't love you" rang through your head.

“It’s alright,” you tried to offer him a smile, but your eyes avoided his, your face tilted downwards. Despite your heart hurting, you felt slightly lighter, as if a massive weight had been taken off the back of your mind. “I think I knew. Despite your mixed signals which I must admit, gave me a little hope, I knew. So did you.”

James was slouched on the couch in front of the fireplace, taking up the entire space, leaving Peter and Remus to sit on the floor in front of him, both busy studying like dutiful students should. He looked up at you, vision up side down as a result of his head that had lolled off the edge of the couch, a conflicted expression adorned his face while he studied yours.

You watched his glasses that sat uneven on the bridge of his nose, eyes that seemed to bore right through you, though you sure hoped they couldn’t. How humiliating it would be, you thought to yourself, since more often than not, you imagined what it would be like to be loved by him, accidentally zoning out with your eyes trained on James. You shook the thoughts away in a flustered manner as if to hide them away.

Noticing that James was still peering up at you, you stretched out your leg towards him and nudged your foot against his head in a teasing manner, trying to get him to break his gaze. It worked, and James pushed it away with a face of mock disgust.

“Ew! Get your smelly feet away from my face.” He complained.

You stuck your tongue out at him. “No. I don’t think I will,” you taunted and wiggled your foot in front of him a little more. With lightning quick reflexes, James managed to grad your ankle and started to tickle your foot.

You squirmed away with a high pitched shriek, almost kicking James in the face. “James! Bloody hell?” You loudly exclaimed and retracted your leg. James only grinned in response, blowing you a kiss and a wink. It had your heart skip a beat.

“So what were you thinking about,” you decided to ask him, his frown not having gone unnoticed by you.

‘About how I know that you’re in love with me,’ he thought. He had been thinking about that a lot recently, but unfortunately not because he returned your feelings.

James was trying to pass his behaviour off as normal recently, despite having found out about it. He prayed that you would never confess your feelings directly to his face, because he knew that he’d have to reject you, inevitably losing you in the process. Something he wanted to avoid at all costs.

He needed you.

But he wanted Lily. She was it for him after all, no matter how close you and James were.

“Lots of things on my mind,” James cleared his throat. “Like do you guys think that McGonagall has ever... involved herself with another cat?” He asked the first thing that popped up in his mind and was successful in diverting the conversation. The immediate response was four groans and a chorus of “That’s bloody disgusting, Prongs, what the hell mate?”

James shoulders relaxed when he saw you laugh along. He didn’t want things to change.

James didn’t know what to say to you. He hadn’t wanted to lose you, so he avoided the confrontation, unintentionally stringing you along on the way, breaking your heart when the news that Lily decided to give James a chance had reached you before he could tell you himself.

But now he knew somewhere in his gut that this was the going to be the end of you two. At least for now, he realised.

“Thank you,” you managed and his head snapped up to yours, searching for your eyes but yours were firmly focused on the brick wall behind him.

You took a deep breath. “I needed to hear you say it,” you exhaled, your eyes glistering in the reflected light when you looked up again.

You reached your hand into the pocket of your sweater, grasping at the ring that James had given you. You had pocketed it after you found out that the only reason you received that wonderful gift, was because Lily had told James that she didn’t like wearing jewellery.

You held your hand out to him. James, somewhat confused, still held his hand out and you let the ring drop in the palm of his hand. “I’m not going to get strung along by you anymore,” you told him. Your voice was barely louder than a whisper, but was firm.

James heart clenched, the pit in his stomach enlarging. ‘This is it,’ he thought.

“No more hurting. No more feelings,” you said out loud, as if you were vowing them to him. “Let’s meet up after the summer vacation, yeah?” James’ eyes searched your face, hope at your words, lighting them up.

“I swear on the marauders, everything will be back to normal next year, and we’ll be okay.” Your words were confident, putting him at ease, knowing you’d keep your promise. You beamed up at him one last time before you stepped back, disappearing through the brick wall of Platform 9¾.

September 1st.

James dearly missed you. You hadn’t visited over the holidays as usual. Nor had you answered the letters that James couldn’t help but send you to keep you up to date on what you were missing out on. James was already on the platform, waiting in front of the Hogwarts express. He was early, but he knew that you were always one of the first to arrive of all the students, ready to secure a compartment for the marauders.

James had spent a few weeks with Lily during the holidays, and the both of them had realised that maybe they weren’t it for each other.

Whereas James slept in and enjoyed late night talks, Lily would wake up as an early bird. He wanted to go out and stroll through the streets, get lost in London or hang out at a bar and Lily would rather go to the park and calmly read a book that she’d treated to herself. James liked trying out new places to eat at, maybe laughing at how disgusting something was, while Lily thoroughly enjoyed making meals herself to match her tastes.

She didn’t feel too comfortable with James’ public affection or physical touch, so he would often find himself walking next to her, arms awkwardly hanging by his sides. He realised that even when walking around with his friends, he’d have his arm thrown across their shoulders.

James was also a little bit of a complainer. He would dramatically gasp for air and wave his hands at himself during the heat wave that hit London while whining about the temperature. He sourly eyed the ridiculously long queue of the movie theatre of a movie that he wasn’t particularly interested in due to different tastes and couldn’t help but complain about it. He cursed out loud when they missed the bus and grumbled about the 30-minute wait until the next.

Lily would roll her eyes at him, albeit amusedly. She would hush him and shake her head at his childishness, sometimes with a slightly embarrassed chuckle which was the final issue; she was often embarrassed at his loud rambunctiousness.

Finally coming to terms with reality, Lily and James amicably split up. He still thought she was a great person, but maybe not for him per se.

He was lost in thoughts until two hands obscured his sight, effectively pulling him back to the present. They were warm to the touch and smelled like you. James’ stomach swirled for just a split second, but he didn’t have time to process the feeling in his gut when you spoke up in a low voice, trying to pass off as someone else, as if James would be fooled by that.

“Guess who?”

A grin broke out on his face and he grabbed one of your wrists, spun around and then made your twirl around as well. “My favourite person?” He cheekily teased. He was taken aback when you threw yourself at him, that same fluttering feeling reappearing, despite the fact that you often hugged others like that, and the action being no different than your usual way of greeting him.

When you felt James’ body stiffen, you quickly released him, kind but apologetic smile on your face. You were looking good, James realised. Not in the sense that you suddenly looked incredibly stunning after the summer holiday or anything, although James had always thought you were quite pretty, but you looked relaxed. A delighted expression on your face. Positivity seemed to pour out of you and your smile was just captivating.

“Sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?” You asked, concern lacing your voice. Before he could answer you, you continued. “I’m so sorry if I did, but I promise you, I have absolutely no feelings for you anymore, Prongs. Everything’s back to normal,” you sincerely assured him.

James smiled back at you, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you flush to his side while he guided you towards the train. “Everything's back to normal,” he cheerily affirmed, forcing himself to ignore the way his heart had dropped, and the forming pit in his stomach at your words.

“How was your summer,” he asked, before his mind could wander off and imagine what it would be like to be loved by you, instead.

part two

Taglist:

@elsie-bells @charlie-weasley-is-underrated @dreamingofmarauders @moonyslibrary98 @wildernessflora @hollandweather @queerqueenlynn @locklyebrainrot @thisrandombitch @moonys0chocolate @grac3aph3lion @someonesuggestmeaname @mel-yldrm @yrseline @apiec @earfquak3 @yourvvenicebitch @venomsvl @leyla-ravenclaw @spacedangel @darrarii @shrekscrustybudassy @unleptwriter @middle-of-the-earth @sirene-noir @bettytaylorversion @littlepoisonmushroom @faumpje @iloveutwice @katelebate @moonysupremacy01 @marina468 @fangirl-kimora @bellesowl @badasswlthafatass @sjprongs @armydrcamers @its-a-ittle-bit-cold @georgesgingerpubes @ireallywannasleep127 @sayukoi @jsjcue

[nejiverse]

SWEET-TEETH

Satoru Gojo

In which Gojo just so happened to pass his love for sweets onto his daughter. Fem! Reader

cw: a hyper toddler, cranky y/n, megumi makes an appearance

745 words

Sugar is worse than crack.

No one could convince you otherwise in this moment in time.

A nap. That's all you wanted to take. Were you granted that simple luxury? Absolutely not.

Not with a man child and an actual child under the same roof.

During pregnancy you prayed, pleaded that your child wouldn't inherit Gojo's sweet tooth but she did.

Not only that but she also inherited Gojo's white hair and blue eyes.

9 months all for your daughter to wholly be a daddy's girl in both looks and personality.

You got out of bed and haphazardly threw on one of your husband's shirts before leaving your shared room and following the high pitched screaming and squealing which ultimately led you to the kitchen.

You observed Gojo leaning against the island as he watched the toddler run around the kitchen with an amused expression. She was clad in just a diaper and a purple dora the explorer vest. Along with her slightly damp hair, you assumed Gojo had just taken her for a bath not too long ago.

But gosh, if it were possible for her to bounce off the ceilings then you were certain she'd be doing so right now. She was waddling around faster than her little legs could take her.

"Why?", you crossed your arms over your chest and approached Gojo groggily.

"Babe! You're finally awak—".

You certainly weren't awake by choice.

"Why", you interrupted him and this time it was more of a command than a question.

"...why what?", he tilted his head with that stupid clueless expression that made you wanna punch him in the face.

Gojo was able to figure out from your agitated state that you didn't wake up by yourself but that you were actually woken up against your will, more than likely by all the screaming from your toddler. He forgot how much you hated being woken up.

"Why did you give her sugar", you irked.

"Whaaaat! You can't just jump to conclusions silly", he laughed, trying to ignore the deathly glare you were giving him.

"Satoru", you called him by his full name and not by Toru. It made him want to crawl into a hole and die.

"I know a sugar-fuelled screech when I hear it".

“But Y/nn! I can’t just eat sweets and not give her some”, he whined.

“What sweets?”, you asked out of curiosity.

You saw your husband’s whole body flinch at your words as his index finger tapped against the island idly.

It was something he subconsciously did whenever he was lying or hiding something.

“It was mochi wasn’t it”, specifically his favourite, Kikufuku.

He let out a nervous laugh and averted his gaze from you.

“What did I tell you last time?”.

“I can only have mochi three times a week at most…”, he sulked. “So I don’t get diabetes..”.

And he had it yesterday, the day before and the day before that.

You shook your head. “To be honest Toru, I think today’s the day I finally kill you”.

Although your words were nothing to smile at, he smiled anyway because you called him by his nickname. It meant you forgave him (in his head anyway). It just meant you were over it more than anything.

In that moment, you three heard the front door squeak open. The same door you’ve been pestering Gojo to lubricate for weeks.

D/n squealed, the sounds rivalling that of the squeaky door as she ran over to the door and smiled widely at the sight of Megumi. She hugged his legs and as he was about to routinely lift her into his arms, she ran away again as she continued her unbearable shouting.

She would usually make grabby hands at him to lift her up, but not today. She wanted to continue running around.

Megumi felt betrayed and he thinks he knows the reason for this betrayal.

He walked into the kitchen where the toddler ran into and looked at Gojo with narrowed eyes and a scowl.

“Why’d you give her so much sugar?”.

Gojo’s mouth fell open as he looked at you then Megumi. “How the hell do you guys know I gave her sugar??!”.

“I know a sugar-fuelled screech when I hear it”.

Gojo swore he felt like deja vu just now or something.

“That’s what I said!”, you exclaimed.

masterlist :)

[paulyenvol6]

Heavy Hearts

Joel passes a group of raiders who are assaulting a girl that lives in the attacked village and decides to save her.

Contains: mentions of rape and sexual assault, trauma, angst, anxiety, panic attack, very caring and empathetic Joel

I'm not a psychologist and don't know how a person that has been sexually assaulted typically copes so please don't be mad if you don't like the way I described it.

Wordcount: ~3.80k

Masterlist

Usually Joel wouldn't have stopped.

Usually he wouldn't have even looked.

In situations like this he just tried to pass the group of raiders praying that they wouldn't notice and rob him as well because he was on his own after all and although he was a skilled fighter, he wasn't able to take a whole pack of them. So when he passed a camp or village where he could hear the raiders from afar Joel usually avoided it and quickly made his way past it.

But today it was different. It wasn't a very large group of men, maybe 5 or 6 and Joel hadn't been able to notice them until he was already close to the few houses. Once he did he immediately stopped and hid behind a tree.

"Shit," he cursed to himself and since he had a horse with him he knew that he needed to be very careful now so they wouldn't see him.

At first Joel watched them for a moment and then decided to try and back out until he could take the way around the forest which was a long diversion but it was better than to get killed by them.

He was just about to leave his hiding spot when he heard another noise. A high-pitched anxious voice that stood out compared to the laughter of the men.

He hesitated. Out of mere curiousity Joel narrowed his eyes to make out what was happening at the camp and it didn't take long for him to understand. The raiders were kneeling and standing around a girl and obviously intended to claim her as their prize. This wasn't new to Joel as raiders usually took from villages whatever they desired which included young women and to survive in a world like this one had to grow immune to their suffering.

And yet Joel hesitated again. His brain worked hard while he didn't take his eyes off the scene for one second. As much as he felt for the girl, he couldn't risk his life for her. There were four men around her and he couldn't be certain that he would be able to take down all of them. He had worked too hard, had sacrificed too much to be at this point in his life now to throw it all away for a girl. An innocent girl.

Joel's eye twitched and he chewed on his bottom lip. Her screams cut through the air like knives and each hit him in his stomach with so much force that he almost fell back. He couldn't do it. Jesus Christ, he couldn't save her. This was the destiny of so many women and girls and as horrible and sad as it was, Joel wouldn't change the world by saving her. So many more girls would get raped and assaulted even if he helped her.

He felt his foot getting numb which made him realize that he was already sitting here for way too long. He slowly rose to his feet while still observing the men. He couldn't see a lot but it looked like they were trying to take off her clothes which she tried to prevent. She kicked and shouted for someone to make them stop and Joel couldn't help but feel like her words were directed to him.

There was a thunderstorm inside of him; the urge to hit those motherfuckers who had grown so evil and vicious that they had fun raping girls but the rational side of his brain told him to turn around and never look back. And yet Joel hesitated again.

Maybe he thought that he would find a solution to his dilemma if he only waited for long enough. But then when he heard another heartbreaking sob from far away his emotions took over and he saw red.

Blinded by rage Joel swang himself on his horse and made his way to the house. It was so stupid that he immediately regretted it but now he couldn't turn back. Luckily the raiders only noticed him when he jumped off the horse as they were too busy groping the girl but when they did one started screaming and the other men immediately let go of the girl.

Later Joel couldn't remember the fight very well. This happened often, his adrenaline was so high that he felt like he was in a drunken state and his body and mind were disconnected. All Joel remembered was him shooting the first two of them instantly but then one of the guys managed to knock the gun out of his hand and kicked him in his stomach.

What followed was a messy fight that involved a lot of dirt but in the end Joel was able to take another of them down. At this point though the fifth raider that had been inside the house until now had joined his friends and Joel had to face two more men. It was an exhausting and draining fight, but eventually Joel found himself lying on his back surrounded by two dead and three unconscious men.

One of them had driven a little knife into his thigh but it was nothing that wouldn't heal after a couple of days so he forced himself to his feet well-aware that at some point three of the men would wake up again.

Only now did he perceive the girl for the first time. She was uncontrollably sobbing, had formed herself into a ball and covered her eyes with her arms. Her clothes had been torn off and were hanging loosely around her body. Joel sighed and watched her with a numb feeling. She was young, incredibly young and looked so vulnerable like this. He didn't want to terrify her in any way but knew that they had to leave quickly now so Joel approached her.

"Hey," he whispered while towering over her.

"N-NO," she screamed and tried to move away from him.

Of course. He should've known that it wouldn't be easy to get her to trust him after what she had just gone through. Joel quickly took off his jacket and put it on top of her body.

"Take this," he said but it seemed like she didn't even really listen to him and instead just repeated the word 'No'.

Joel exhaled loudly not knowing what he was supposed to do now. Obviously he couldn't leave her here because then his whole saving plan would've been for nothing but he also couldn't force her to come with him especially when she believed he wanted to harm her a well.

When he heard a noise behind him he remembered the urgency of the situation. One of the raiders had let out a moan and Joel snapped back to reality. Without giving it a second thought he placed one hand under her knees while his other wrapped around her shoulder and then he lifted her from the ground. The girl screamed and kicked with her feet but Joel knew he had to do this now. He wasn't going to hurt her, he was going to save her and he was going to make sure that she could see that.

He swiftly ran to his horse and managed to heave her into the saddle. She was fighting him but seemingly was too exhausted to get off the horse on her own so he had enough time to climb on it as well and took his seat behind her. Then Joel gave his horse the signal to move and tightly wrapped an arm around the girl's stomach so she wouldn't fall down.

"It's okay, it's okay. You're safe with me," he tried to calm her as she was squirming and sobbing so hard that she didn't even seem able to properly perceive her surroundings.

"N-No, please. No, let me go," she cried and scratched his arm that was around her body.

"I saved you, I killed these men. You're safe now. I'm not gonna hurt you."

At first he didn't know if his words even had any effect on her but soon her sobs became more quiet although it also could be a result from her growing extremely tired. Soon her body only occasionally shook and her head had dropped to the side.

"It's okay, I got ya. I promise you, I won't harm you," Joel whispered.

He didn't know if she had heard him or if she believed him but she stopped fighting until they arrived at his house in the midst of the forest.

Joel stopped his horse, climbed off it and then lifted her to the ground by her waist. She let it happen but her glossy eyes gave away how traumatized and far away she was. Her wobbly knees immediately buckled and Joel could only just prevent her from falling to the ground. His hands wrapped around her shoulder and he carefully pulled her with him inside of his house. Perhaps she had already gotten used to the thought of another man assaulting her now because she didn't even complain when Joel sat her down on the couch. Only that he of course wouldn't.

He quickly brought a blanket so she was finally covered and put it on top of her. Then he rushed to the kitchen to search for any food he could give her and actually found some dry and hard bread, milk and an apple. His heart was beating fast although he wasn't sure why. He had helped her and they were safe now so there was no reason to be nervous.

But when Joel looked at her again he knew what gave him anxiety. He didn't have a lot of experience with comforting someone let alone help someone who had gone through something comparable to what she had experienced. How was he supposed to communicate with her without scaring her? She still believed that another predator had just brought her into his home and he somehow had to convince her of the fact that he wouldn't hurt her.

Joel closed his eyes while forcing himself to breathe steadily and then made his way to the middle of the living room. The girl had actually wrapped the blanket around her body but twitched when she saw him. Joel immediately lifted his hand to signalize her to stay calm while slowly approaching.

"It's okay." But she pressed herself closer to the backrest and Joel could see her trembling lip from far away. She wasn't crying anymore but her face was still drawn with so much fear that Joel was scared to make one wrong step.

"Alright. I won't come any closer than this, promise."

He actually stopped but put the food he had brought on the sofa table.

"I have something for you. Are you hungry?"

She didn't answer him and just stared at him with eyes round as coins.

"That's bread over here and I have some milk and an apple. Take it if you're hungry."

Still no answer and now Joel didn't know what to do. Was he supposed to talk to her? Would that soothe her? Or should he leave her alone and vanish into his room? But what if she still assumed that he had nothing good in mind and fled from his house right into the arms of the raiders.

He would try something else, Joel declared and slowly sat down on the ground. Perhaps she would feel less intimidated if he wasn't towering over her.

"What's your name, little one?" he asked trying to make his voice sound as gentle as he possibly could.

"I promise, I don't wanna hurt ya. I know that you're very scared right now but you don't have to be scared of me."

She seemed to actually listen to him this time which Joel considered a progress. Her eyelids fluttered and her pupils searched frantically for any sign of danger on him, but Joel reassuringly showed her his hands.

"I don't have any weapon with me. See?"

He could almost hear her brain work behind her forehead measuring if she could trust him and Joel noticed how her hands clenched around the blanket covering her. A little sob left her mouth but this time only a few fresh tears ran down her cheeks and Joel felt like he still had her attention.

"It's okay. Let it out."

He sat patiently looking down to his hands so she wouldn't feel intimidated by his eyes on her until he felt brave enough to ask her for her name once more.

"What's your name?"

She slowly opened her mouth but at first no sound was escaping so Joel nodded encouragingly.

"S-Sophia," she whispered with a croaked voice but he managed to understand her.

"Okay, Sophia," he said gently and felt very helpless.

But then, and he didn't know why because it was solely based on a feeling inside of him he started to speak again and watched her with warm eyes.

"I had a daughter once. She was around your age." Silence.

"Her name was Sarah."

Her eyes wandered over his face but she still didn't show any reaction so Joel didn't know what drove him to tell this girl about his daughter that had nothing to do with any of this but something about it felt right.

"She had an obsession with insects and snails and all these disgusting animals, it was insane. You know, for her eleventh birthday she wanted to build a snail-hotel and collect them for it but her party guests were so freaked out that it ended in chaos." Joel laughed quietly. "But she hated hiking so she would always demand of me to drive into the forest to search for her animals which I wasn't a fan of."

At this point Joel wasn't thinking about what he was saying anymore and leaned his head back against the armchair.

"I always said: If you want to chase after your little animals and want me to come with you then you'll at least walk there. And then she'd say that she didn't chase after them but saved them."

Joel chuckled and then snapped back from his daydreaming when he looked into Sophia's big eyes that definitely looked a little more calm now.

"My name is Joel, by the way. Joel Miller."

He thought that it was only appropriate to finally introduce himself as well and he could actually see Sophia slightly nod with her head if he hadn't imagined it. And then the girl slowly sat up on the couch and watched the food on the table in front of her.

"C-Can I have a-an apple?" she whispered.

"Yes. Of course," he answered immediately and jumped to his feet which made her jolt.

"Sorry. Just… Take whatever you want."

Her shivering hand reached for the fruit and she touched it almost as if it were made of glass. Joel felt weird watching her every movement but he didn't know what else to do so after she had taken a first bite he decided to just ask her.

"Do you want me to go away? I could go to my room and give you some peace."

She bit her lip questioningly and then shrugged with her shoulders.

"I-I… I don't know, I…"

Tears welled in her eyes again and Joel wondered if he had said something to upset her.

"Okay, it's alright. Just tell me whenever you want me to leave."

She nodded and took another bite of the apple which gave Joel relief and the next few minutes were filled with the sound of her chewing and her heavy breathing. When she was done Sophie questioningly searched for his eyes while holding up the core of the apple.

"Just put it on the table," Joel said and then carefully thought about his next words.

"I… Is there anything I can do, Sophia? Anything to help you? I'm not good at this stuff as you see, but… I wanna help you."

She sniffed and wrapped the blanket tighter around her upper body.

"I-I don't know… I d-don't even know w-what happened," she said but her voice broke at her last words and she started to cry again. His instinct was to approach her but of course he didn't want to do anything that could trigger any more discomfort in her so he hesitated.

But then something happened. Something in her eyes shifted and she slowly lifted a hand.

"P-Please…"

Joel didn't understand at first but soon realized that she was reaching out for him. Still he wanted to make sure he didn't interpret her gesture wrong and frowned.

"Do you want me to come closer?"

Sophia gave him a pained look but then nodded very slightly. Joel didn't know why she reacted like this, he didn't know if he was handling this situation correctly but right now he wanted to serve the girl and her wishes and so he followed her demand and very slowly in order to give her time to speak up in case she changed her mind walked towards her.

He felt awkward standing in front of her and looked to the spot next to her. "Can I sit down?"

Sophia nodded again while trying to make the tears stop that continued to run down her face and even moved to make space for him. Joel sat down, immediately looked at her and felt a sting in his chest. Being close to her he became even more aware of how terrible this girl must be feeling. Her eyes were red and he could see multiple scratches and traces of dirt on her face. Only then did he realize that he hadn't even asked one of the most important questions.

"Are you hurt?"

This time it took her a little longer to reply again but to his relief Sophia shook her head. "N-No. Not r-really."

"But I can still give you a salve for the scratches if you want. Might've some medicine left," he quickly stated while looking at her profile.

"What happened?" she suddenly whispered while still staring into the empty space. Joel chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully before he exhaled.

"Do you really wanna talk about it?"

Her head turned so suddenly that he almost twitched.

"I need to know."

What was he to do now? It seemingly was her wish to learn about it but despite not knowing a lot about trauma and how to deal with it, Joel couldn't imagine that talking about it right after it had happened was very healthy.

"Look, I just don't wanna trigger anything," he therefore told her but Sophia let her head fall back against the backrest almost as if she was frustrated which made Joel sigh.

"Do you want me to tell ya? You sure?"

"Yes," she breathed.

And so he began to tell his side of the story but couldn't bare looking in her eyes while doing so.

"I passed the camp 'cause I didn't notice the raiders at first… And then I wanted to turn around and go back but… I… I saw what was happenin' with… you an' so I changed my mind, you know and attacked 'em. I killed two of 'em and the others were knocked out an' yeah, I guess that's it."

During his last words he felt strong enough to glance at her again. She looked like she was thinking but then bit her lower lip.

"And then?"

"What do ya mean?"

Her pupils danced hectically and Joel could see her eyes getting wet again.

"What happened after that? I can't remember."

She pressed her hand on her eyes trying to prevent herself from breaking down again.

"No, no, it's okay. I'll tell ya everything. Just look at me."

She slowly lifted her head and gave him a doubtful look while her hands grabbed the blanket again.

"I gave you my jacket. And then I lifted you on my horse and we came here to my house. You were kinda unresponsive the whole time."

She looked so sad suddenly that Joel once again asked himself if he had chosen the wrong words. Then Sophie brought her thumb to her mouth to nibble at it while sniffing loudly.

"I don't know what to do."

It sounded so heartbreaking that Joel unconsciously reached out to soothe her shoulder but quickly let go of her as soon as he realized.

"Sorry, I… You don't have to do anything right now. You just have to eat and sleep. Everything else we'll figure out."

"I don't wanna sleep," the girl disagreed at once and Joel tilted his head.

"That's okay. But if you're tired you should try an' get a few hours of sleep at least."

Sophia shook her head and seemed panicky all of a sudden.

"Please don't leave me. I don't wanna be here alone, please. I'm scared."

Joel sat up straight and folded his hands in his lap.

"I'm not gonna leave you. I'll be right in the next room. And you're safe here, I promise."

But his words seemed to only upset her further because she watched him with wide eyes and looked very pale.

"But I don't wanna be alone at night, please."

Joel sighed still not sure if he was serving her right by staying with her under these circumstances but she seemed so certain of what she wanted right now.

She couldn't possibly trust him like this already and although he obviously knew that he would never harm her in any way, he still wondered if he might scare her if he stayed with her. She was in an extremely vulnerable position right now and probably felt so horrible that she might get attached to any person that took care of her. But if it was her wish? If she would only feel worse if he left?

"Are you sure?" She nodded. "You want me to stay here?"

"Yes," she said quietly and glared at him looking almost shy.

"Okay. But you can still tell me to leave whenever you wanna be alone, alright?"

"Yes," she repeated and then moved slightly closer to him.

"Can I… Can I hold your hand?"

Joel almost teared up at her words and felt like his airways were blocked. In addition to that the heavy weight on his heart seemed to double in size but then he nodded.

"Of course," he breathed with a husky voice and offered her his hand which she enclosed with hers and then rested her head on top of them.

Neither of them said something for the rest of the night but Joel was busy with listening to her steady breathing.

He didn't know whether she had fallen asleep or was way too upset to even feel tired but he just stayed like this all night.

At some point his hand that Sophia gripped so tightly felt numb but even then he didn't pull back.

He just watched over her until with the first light of dawn Joel also felt sleep washing over him.

[usedtobecooler]

steve takes on a shitty little side job for halloween, working as a scare actor at the pumpkin patches after dark strictly adult shows.

his character changes most nights, to keep things fresh but mostly so that eddie won’t come running in with his girl of the night — with the sole purpose of dragging steve to the ground to make himself look tough in front of her.

tonight he’s got a burlap sack over his face, dressed in a blue boiler suit that’s ripped at the chest from an overzealous customer a few days previous — and okay, maybe he should’ve worn a shirt under it, but, y’know, the chicks dig it.

he’s hiding behind a hay bale when he spots you with your group of friends — you’re an easy target, jumping at every little noise, flash of light and brush of fingers on your elbows. your friends are laughing so hard it draws attention, every actor in the place jumping out on you all and terrifying you further.

he almost feels bad about praying on you, knowing he’s gonna freak you out, but it was what you paid for, after all. and he was endeared by the fact that, no matter how nervous you seemed, you were laughing just as hard as your friends were and looked to be genuinely enjoying it.

as you get closer, excitement builds in steve’s chest, you’re slightly sideways, unaware of his presence, and he takes his opportunity — pushes his way out from behind the bales to a gaggle of ear piercing screams and laughter. you jump, trip over your own feet and basically fall onto him, a panicked little giggle pushing past your lips.

he crowds you back up against the hay bale stack, honey flecked eyes narrowed and hardened as you stare at him, a nervous laugh escaping you. you’re breathing heavily, he can feel your chest heaving against his own with how tightly pressed together you are. he forgets for a moment that he’s meant to be scaring you, instead leaning a toned arm out to bracket you in.

he only plans to do it for a moment, but then you actively push up into him, like you’re daring him to do more and, oh. steve leans in, so close in fact, that your noses brush through the thick, scratchy material of the sack covering his face.

you gasp, another nervous laugh being punched out of you, though your gaze finally leave his to rake down the vast expanse of exposed, tan, freckled skin. steve almost feels a little smug at how long it takes for you to rip your pretty eyes off of his toned body.

your friends have long gone, their laughter and screams to be heard just over steve’s shoulder. he’s almost glad that they left you both alone to have your moment, but his shackles go up at the idea of them leaving you.

he’s almost ready to break character to escort you back to them, when a high pitched trill of your name is echoed through the maze. you almost look sad as you acknowledge your friend, pouting exaggeratedly and nodding towards them.

he holds his hand up to his ear, fingers in the shape of a makeshift phone, “gimme your number?” he’s grinning, even though you can’t see, and he knows his voice sounds deeper than usual with the muffled affect of the burlap mask.

you fluster, covering your mouth with your hand to hide your laugh, “when do you finish up?” your voice is soft, sweet and steve kind of melts with it.

steve doesn’t speak again, just holds up all ten fingers to mimic that he gets off at 10pm. you look down at your watch on your wrist, just a slight glance but it’s enough for him to catch.

“meet me under the ferris wheel once you’re off?”

and hell, who was steve to pass on that opportunity?

[stargazedwinchester]

The Witching Hour ♡ Dean

Summary: You go under a witch's spell, reliving the most recent heartbreak.

Word count: 1,199

Pairings: Dean x Reader ex-relationship

My new upload schedule has changed! There will be a new post every Wednesday and Saturday 12:30 GMT

The air stood still and torrid. The tension in the air lingers above you as a bead of sweat drips down from your hairline. You hold your breath, hiding behind a vast wall. You assume that the witch clan you’ve come to annihilate can’t see you. One of them cackles mischievously, her kitten heels echoing throughout the cave. “You’re here,” she bellows, the sound of her shoes getting louder. Your breathing hitches, and she stops in her tracks.

Panicking, you brought a potion with you and had already thrown the ingredients inside. Your hands begin to shake, and you recite the spell that you had found through research.

You had only been a full-blown witch hunter for 6 months. After your father passed a couple of years back, you went back to a regular life to cope with the pain. The thought of having to carry on like normal would’ve hurt you more, as he was your hunting partner. The pair of you only worked on smaller, more doable cases rather than the big shots. Your dad was close to 60 and he wasn’t getting any younger. You had always been worried about his health until he unfortunately declined rapidly.

Her shadow is creeping up on you and her footsteps grew faster and louder. You finish the incantation and nothing happens. Your eyes widen and your heart races. “What?” You mouth, your lungs in your throat. A skinny, pale hand slowly emerges from behind the wall, long, grotesque nails grip onto the brick. Some of the ends of her nails were chipped and broken off.

The frayed edges of her dress swing round and you’re met with a paralysing sensation shooting right through you. An icy white glow fills the room and you’re stuck.

She cackles, striking you again with the same feeling. This time, you’re levitating, and you can only move your eyes. You attempt to examine the rest of the cave but it’s pitch black and all you can focus on is the pain that’s being pumped through your whole body.

Suddenly, it’s dark. Reticent.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice calls for you, and you gasp. It can’t be.

“Y/N?” He calls again.

You find your feet back on the ground. You whip yourself round in every direction, searching for the voice.

“Dean?” You call, and there’s no answer. A hand slides down your forearm, causing you to flinch. Facing forward, you meet Dean Winchester’s gaze. His eyes are soft and sorrowful.

You place your hand on his cheek, his eyes close slowly and he swallows. Seeing that he’s somewhat relieved, you allow a tear to roll down your cheek. Your love for each other was immense and the pair of you were inseparable. That was until Lisa, his ex-girlfriend, came back into his life and he left you to return to his old life. Like you never even mattered in the first place.

You caress his cheek, and he pulls you into a hug. You wrap your arms around his neck and your hand lays softly on the back of his head. Stroking his hair, you pull out of the hug and he then leans in to kiss you. Your lips meet, his skin is warm and his lips are moist. The kiss is slow and welcoming, as if everything was back to normal.

“I’m sorry, I do love you.” He speaks out, tears welling in his eyes. You sigh, trying to reply to him. You’re inarticulate, struggling to make even a sound. As you stare into his eyes, you attempt to telepathically convey your love. All of this makes it 10 times harder because you can’t say anything back. You hope and pray to God that he hears you, that he sees you wanting to tell him that you love him, too. Just one final time.

You wake up inside of a hospital, the white lights are overbearing and they give you a headache. You attempt to sit up when a nurse enters the room. “Be careful, Y/N. Your lower body won’t be able to hold your weight just yet if you sit up,” she smiles and you smile back. “Okay.” Was all you could manage to get out. Your throat is dry, so you take a sip of stale water that must’ve been sitting on the bedside table overnight.

“You’re free to leave tomorrow, all being well,” she states. You nod. She unfolds a bed table and places it over you. She hands you a plate of vegetables, rice and chicken in an unfamiliar sauce. “Rest up, okay? Another doctor will visit you soon for a quick test to ensure you’re okay to leave tomorrow.” She gives you a reassuring grin, then exits the room.

You decide to pick at the food, attempting to eat what they gave you.

It’s gross.

It had been 8 days since you were admitted to hospital. No memory of anything other than your strange vision of Dean. You had to go back to the hospital for one last check up when you were greeted with ambulance workers rushing in with someone on a stretcher. They’re all yelling over each other, hastening to the emergency room straight down the hall. A familiar face races past you, attempting to keep up with the doctors. He doesn’t notice you, though, as you turn around and watch him panic.

Bobby?

You sit down, hand over your mouth. Trying to keep it together. “Y/N?” The doctor calls and you look up. “Are you ready?” He asks and you nod. Shaking your nerves away, you stand up and follow the doctor to his office. “Do you think he will be okay?” You ask hesitantly, and he shrugs it off as if it’s nothing. “In our care, he will be perfectly fine.” The doctor doesn’t even register who you’re talking about.

Once you leave his office, you notice that the light above Bobby’s door is red. Bright, like a flare. Assuming that means an operation is in progress, you pray that he will return alive and well. Whatever had happened to him must’ve proved a tough fight. Growing up with the Winchesters’ and Singer, you had always thought that Bobby is invincible and nothing could ever happen to him. Keeping your head down, a pair of feet accosts in front of you.

“Y/N.” He greets, and you look up. That familiar face once again.

Dean’s eyes are, yet again, filled with sorrow and regret and you’re not sure whether it’s because of you or because of Bobby. “Dean,” you reply back, and glance over at Sam. He’s sitting down, staring at you with disbelief. He lifts his hand up and waves, clearly tongue-tied.

“Can I talk with you?” He’s hesitant. His chest rises up and down. Dean takes his hand and rubs it across his face.

“About what?”

Dean looks at you gone out, maybe it was the fact that Bobby is in the emergency room, or the fact that you had a hallucination about him confessing his requited love for you that you just couldn’t quite get what he’d want to say to you. There’s so much, but so little to say.

“You know what.”

[updownlately]

i promise that i'll love you (for the rest of my life)

| leah williamson x reader | fluff | 1.8k | inspo: black & white by niall horan | a/n: it's my first fic ever so let's see how this goes. it's almost 1.9k words of pure fluff and im not the most happy with it, but if i edit it anymore, im going to lose my mind. anyways, feedback is much appreciated please and thank you!

~~~

It's only a little over a year into this whole dating your teammate thing that it really clicks. That everything actually sets in. You’re halfway across the earth from where you grew up, playing soccer at one of the highest levels, and you managed to somehow get a girlfriend. Little you would have never guessed that this would be your life now. You’d always been meticulous in planning your future and decided that dreaming to professionally play football wouldn’t do you any harm. The understanding that you succeeded in making your dreams come true while somehow also being happy was still appalling to you. The fact that you were also breaking one of the few non-negotiable rules you’d set for yourself by dating a teammate, but not only that, you were doing so for Leah was only just a drop of water in the ocean.

Leah Williamson. Captain of England. A gunner through and through. A fighter. Someone who’s made London home not only for herself but for you too. 

You really don’t know how it happened. Well you do, yet it creeped up on you so slowly, so timidly, that you didn’t know you were falling until you were metres from the ground, praying to be caught. 

You had really only moved overseas to follow Tobin's footsteps. Being able to play a year with one of your best friends and that too for a club like Arsenal was an offer too good to pass, much less to hesitate on. So when it came through that not only were they signing her, but they wanted you to join too, all it took was a quick conversation with Christen and the rest of your friends before you were packing a bag and hopping across the pond. 

So how'd you end up here? In a shared bed with Leah, spending more nights at her apartment than you had in your own since you moved here? Even better question, how the hell did you get Leah of all people to want to date you? You’d say you have no idea, yet the rest of your teammates, Tobin included, would just smack you upside the head and remind you of how smitten Leah was with your shy demeanour the first day you showed up to practice, Arsenal gear adoring you perfectly according to her.

It was clear as day to your teammates that from the start there was something between you two. The way Leah would go out of her way to talk to you before practice, complimenting you each time without fail, and how her seriousness on the pitch had lessened just a tiny bit when you were around. And you. Your painstakingly obvious shyness that heightened incredulously whenever Leah was around. Sure you were quiet in general, only often speaking when spoken to, content to just observe the world around you and people watch. Yet, whenever Leah came into view, your otherwise confident and upright figure would slowly hide behind whoever was nearest to you, which was typically Tobin. 

“You do realize if you never talk to her outside of the pitch you won’t be able to make a move on her? Heart eyes and a tomato-d face is only going to get you so far," Tobin would tease.

In the end, it had taken Tobin damn near holding you in a death grip beside her for you to actually talk with Leah outside of training as both she and Wälti watched amusedly. That coupled with your team putting you and Leah in the most comically unfortunate, and not at all slick like they thought, situations over the course of a few months, and before you knew it, Leah had asked you to come around for dinner. 

What started off as you both taking things slow quickly developed into something more before you guys had a chance to even consider any other option. Practices spent quietly murmuring jokes, possible plays, giving each other feedback on technique paved the way for post practice coffees and lunches. Shared car rides and playlists blasting, windows down on even the rainiest London days set the tone for movie marathons late into the night, popcorn long forgotten. Eyes drooping and barely focused on the dim lights illuminating the room one too many times and you eventually had a spare set of clothes in Leah's dresser, and hers in yours. Eventually it came as no surprise to your teammates when you both would consistently show up to and leave from practice together. You both in your car, you at the wheel and the blonde in the passenger where she’d without fail connect to aux became a common sight to players, trainers, and even staff.

Yet, you weren’t officially dating, neither of you willing to make the first move. The team had decided to let you two be, long given up on both of you, knowing how anxious you got with making decisions, and Leah being too stubborn to admit the possibility of you like liking her to ask. It was only when some of the English women’s team was over at Leah’s that your and her bubble was broken. Add both you and Leah cuddled up on the couch talking with the girls and a confused Keira walking in late, with a side of a follow up question of ‘So are you guys dating or is Leah still too chickenshit to ask?’ and the results were you choking on your spit with Leah stiff as a statue, eyes as wide as saucers right beside you. 

Regardless of her brashness, you’d have Keira to thank when that same night Leah had quietly asked if you’d like to go on an official date with her in the coming days. 

(Over half a year later you would find out that the instagram post Leah had made commemorating that night was not in fact reminiscent like you had originally thought, but instead for revenge from Keira, it featuring multiple unflattering photos of the other girl).

So where did that leave you now? If you were asked, your answer would be nothing short of heaven. Waking up to your girlfriend sleeping peacefully beside you, the first morning rays streaming in, and a late practice scheduled for midday with the team, all easily fitting the criteria for your ideal morning. 

Rolling over to face your love, you snake a hand underneath her shirt from where it had lifted slightly. Continuing on its path, you let your arm wrap around her waist before gently tugging her towards you, pulling her back flush against your front. You leave a trail of soft kisses at her neck in apology when Leah lets out a small whine at the disturbance to her sleep.

It's a few minutes later that she turns to face you, the sleepy smile on her face igniting one on your own. 

“Morning love,” you tease as Leah tries to burrow her head into your neck, trying to go back to sleep. Typically you’d pull away by now and the lack of your body heat would cause the blonde to follow your footsteps and get her day started as well, but who said you couldn’t indulge in your favourite treat once in a while. 

So you pull Leah closer to you, letting her get comfortable, your hands finding their way under her shirt to gently scratch her back. It's when she hums contentedly and lets out a gentle sigh that you know you’ve made the right decision. 

You lay like that for a while. The girl of your dreams in your arms, golden light bathing her in an ethereal glow that you think is an accurate representation of the angel she is to you. All that she’s really missing is a halo. And wings. Though maybe that’s not a good idea with how clumsy she could be sometimes. Maybe she’d even end up being like one of those birds that were caught flying straight into a glass pane head first. The thought that causes you to gently shake with laughter. The mental image of a Leah sprawled out on the floor while her wings lay mangled and her halo knocked on its side metres away causing you to evaluate whether you had lost your marbles somewhere between last night’s late night chat with your girlfriend and this morning. 

Apparently and unfortunately, your musings were enough to wake up said girlfriend again as well. Her long arms stretched near your head and a groggy voice quietly asked what had gotten you in such a good mood so early in the morning. 

“I get to wake up with a pretty girl in my arms, what’s there not to be in a good mood about?” The flirty reply earned you a smack to the chest as Leah adjusted to pull away from your grasp. She didn’t get quite far however, before you’re pulling her back in with your hand on her forearm. 

“Okay, okay, damn, sorry for trying to love you up. What does it take for a girl to appease her girlfriend these days?”

“Some breakfast would do the trick? Plus maybe a ride to practice? And a few kisses? Oh and since we’re already on the topic, a few gifts, maybe a new pair of dunks would really seal the deal.” she cheekily responds, laying her head back on your chest. 

“Oh snap, okay hmm lets see here. The best I can do is kisses and breakfast. The ride could possibly be arranged but the rest is quite hard to arrange you know? It’ll take resources I don't have.”

“Oh really? Please enlighten me on these resources you speak of.”

“Well for one, it would require me leaving the presence of my girlfriend, something I don’t think she’ll enjoy since she’s been really really really cling- OKAY OW IM SORRY.” 

It’s on the third playful slap on the arm that you’re able to catch her hand in yours. using the surprise to your advantage you roll her onto her back and position yourself over her. 

“How about this, we can knock the kisses off the list right now, breakfast can be arranged, and we can go adventure through the city in search of some dunks today after practice?”

And when Leah responds by pulling you closer and kissing you, you can’t help but smile into it, getting more excited for the day with each second that passes. Excited for each day together with every kiss shared. Excited for your future.

You seriously don’t know how you got here, Leah in your arms, a career you love, miles away from where you grew up, but you wouldn’t change it for the world. You’d spent your younger years daydreaming of the perfect future, one that you now had in your grasp, and you couldn’t wait for what still awaited you. Ever since she had caught you, you knew that as long as you had the blonde in your arms, you need not fret about life too much. 

All that was really left was to ensure that the both of you would one day stand in black and white under a clear sky, surrounded by your friends and family, celebrating a life you’d never thought you’d have.

[mythicalmyles]

Hope you are having a good day/night?

I was wondering if you still wrote for Kaneki?

If so, if you're intrested in the idea? Kaneki x M CCG reader who's tall and seems like a top is actually a bottom. Maybe even has a scent that is alluring to ghouls not in a I want to eat your flesh way lol. (Over stimulation/size kink/bit of noncon and predator prey and anything I don't kink shame) 👉👈It's just a real turn on to see opposites where the character you least expect to be the bottom

Im always down for my ghoul boy i lov him(I hope u dm me using centipede <3)

Also im good thank you i hope u r well!

Noncon, size kink, scent kink

You crouched, ready to fight back. You couldn't deny the fear that crept through your veins as the one eyed ghoul stared you down. His eye had gone pure white, his entire form was different from what you had seen before. Gone was the ghoul who didn't want to fight, instead now you were face to face with a completely destructive monster.

Despite the fact you were taller then him, you felt incredibly small trapped alone in this room with him. All you could do was pray your colleagues noticed your disappearance and quickly found you. It let out a raspy giggle, drool leaking from the corners of its lips. "S-So go-good. Smell so g-good." It muttered, voice like grinding steel as it rasped at you. Your quinque shook in your hands, confronted with the real possibility of being eaten had you loosing your mind almost.

With any other ghoul you wouldn't be this way, but, could he even be compared to a ghoul anymore? His kagune slide out, long tentacles ready to dive through your flesh and rip you open. The large centipede tail would've been tough enough, if it slammed you into a wall you had no doubt it'd crush every bone in your body. Never had the primal urge to run been so instilled into you, neither of you moving as you tried to control yourself.

Before another thought could cross your mind one of his tentacles snatched you up, You would never admit to the high pitched scream that left you. Freezing as he dragged you close to his face, his twisted smile stretched across his cheeks and you found yourself wondering if it was painful. You stared into his wide open white eye, trembling in his grasp.

You whimpered when he leaned forward, sniffing you like an overexcited dog. You closed your eyes, desperately wishing this was a horrifying nightmare you'd wake up from. You yelped when his wet tongue licked up your neck, almost passing out. "St-stop! Do-don't eat me." Your words were stuttered and wobbly, quinque long abandoned and leaving you utterly at his mercy.

"Ss-so good. Need." His voice was terrifying, his words even more so. Whimpers fell from your lips, his hands grabbing at your body. You choked out when his hands grasped your ass, squeezing the flesh tight and pulling you into him as his mouth assaulted your neck. Panic began filling your every pore, fear flooding your senses as the ghoul began freeing you of you clothes. His kagune kept your wrists bound above your head while another two kept your legs spread open, ready for him to devour.

Tears dripped down your cheeks, his clawed hands left irritated lines in their wake as his digits scrapped against your flesh. Your blood seemed to spur him on, saliva dripping all over you as he giggled and wheezed. “Mine. My mate.” That was the clearest you had heard him speak, not having time to argue as his kagune began to slide inside of you. The hot wet feeling of the appendage splitting you in two had your mouth dropping open as you gasped for air, lungs burning as he stole your breath.

He didn’t miss the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, flicking around and drinking up any saliva you produced. You knew better then to fight back against something that could very easily rip you apart. His centipede like tail swung behind him, the sheer size of it keeping you still in his grasp as you tried desperately to hide the moans that dripped from your lips.

You didn’t want to admit it, but it sent heat straight to your core. Body spasming as he roughly fucked you on his kagune, you could hear your own voice bouncing off the walls, shame filling you up as you found yourself enjoying what the ghoul was doing to you.

“Br-breed you up. Mine.” It growled before sinking its teeth into your shoulder, relishing in the howl that tore through your throat. “More.” It hissed, pulling him kagune out of you. You whined at the loss, the feeling of emptiness driving you insane. Luckily he was quick to sink you down onto his cock, you couldn’t deny that you loved it. How he was smaller yet bounced you on his cock like you weighed no more then a feather had you going insane.

You were use to being on top, this was new to you but it drove you insane. The feeling of his thick cock stretching you open and diving deep, smashing into your prostate had you moaning like a whore. Your arms gripped him tight, tears of pleasure running down your cheeks at a constant stream as he sped up, fucking any comprehensible thought out of your mind.

It wasn’t long before you shouted again, cock shooting out cum and coating the ghouls chest. It only seemed to spur him on more, his rough ragged breathing was the only other noise besides your own pathetic moans and slapping skin that you could hear.

Your entire weight collapsed onto him, but that didn’t stop his claws digging into your flesh and slamming you onto his cock. Just as you doubted how much more you could take, he slammed himself deep into you. You felt his cum began dribbling out of your hole, coating your thighs in his essence.

You lay your head on his shoulder, panting into his neck. He pulled himself out of you, keeping you wrapped up tight in his arms as he began to make his way out of the building, intent on taking you home and keeping you forever.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 🔞 TEASER

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't shoot you through the airlock right now."

Or alternatively: you had your plan all figured out - sneaking onto the wrong ship, however, was not part of it.

Tags/Warnings: Alien!Jungkook, Human!Reader, Angst, enemies to lovers, blood and injury, captivity, tentacles? In a way yeah, eventual smut, slow burn, he's not very nice at the start ngl, more TBA and tags might differ depending on the chapter

Length: approx. 10 Chapters ~ 2-3k words each

A/N: there is no taglist. There is no taglist. There is no-

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──👽── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

It doesn't make sense.

The interior, now that you look at it, looks nothing like the cargo ship from Heza that you had been supposed to be boarding. There's also been almost no security, no other staff around, no guards or even workers seen anywhere.

Everything is metal, a bit bent and busted here and there but still good and well taken care of. The model of the ship must be the same as the one from Heza -

But this is absolutely not the ship you thought you were sneaking into.

This is bad.

It's the worst, in fact, considering your still throbbing and probably bleeding wound, which had also not been part of the plan. The shaking of the ship finally subsides, a calm buzz and steady vibrations instead filling the space, your ears feeling strangely pressurized, something that subsides after moving your jaw a little. You know what this must mean.

You're no longer on earth.

Well, this is a problem now. You don't know where the hell this person is traveling to, let alone who owns the ship in the first place. For all you know, it could have no pilot at all, flying on pure autopilot which would at least make you feel a bit easier knowing that only actual cargo ships fly predetermined routes like that.

You feel like you're gonna throw up. Your stomach is so empty that your throat is closing up, or at least that's what it feels like. And considering this isn't a Heza ship, there will probably be nothing edible here at all.

And suddenly, there's a rumbling noise, metal scraping on the floor as the pressurized doors open, causing you to hide under the thick plastic coverings again, hoping, praying no one finds you. Boots click on the floor, and you hear chains hitting each other in high pitched noises, leather squeaking a bit and then-

You hear plastic being lifted. Whoever is currently here is aware that you're not supposed to be here. That something's off, not quite right. They're searching for something.

Someone.

You hold your breath as if that's gonna help you at all, but you know it won't. The steps echo closer, closer, closer, plastic tarp being lifted and placed back over and over again around you. And suddenly, the tarp you're underneath lifts as well, and you're sure you're visibly shaking, especially when something cold hits the back of your head.

A gun, for sure.

"You got one try." A male voice states, the click of the gun heard and felt against your scalp and oh God, you're gonna pass out, either from blood loss, hunger, or the fact that theres someone pointing a fucking gun at you-

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't shoot you through the airlock right now."

[wayneskluv]

you were never supposed to cheat on him — j. todd

Jason Todd x Reader Angst (Post-Death)

Warnings: Swearing & Angst (that’s it)

“You look like the person he loves, but you don't feel like the person he loves.”

Whilst Jason was gone, you felt yourself missing his warm embrace. When he comes back, he finds out you did more than miss him.

“Who?” Jason asks, spitting the word out. There’s that sick feeling in his stomach. He can’t breathe. “Who did you cheat on me with?”

He sits down, dropping his face into his hands. You’re not supposed to do this; you’re not supposed to betray him. You love him.

Jason squeezes his eyes shut. He died and came back to life, but it’s nothing compares to the pain in chest right now. Maybe he was meant to stay dead.

He can’t bring himself to look at you, to face you. “Tell me, Who you cheated on me with.” He rubs the bridge of his nose, a sigh passing through his lips.

You raise your eyes to look at him, “Baby, I-“ He cuts you off, not wanting to hear whatever pathetic excuse you were going to offer him. “Don’t you dare.” He’d rather you tell the truth, than have you lie through your teeth.

You had to speak up, had to make your reasoning heard. You couldn’t stand him being mad at you. “You died.” You swallow, a high pitched ringing in your ear. “You fucking died. You don’t get to make me feel bad. What was I supposed to do?”

Jason can't believe what he's hearing. How could you betray him like this? He died, so you went and fucked somebody else? He can't even look at you. His heart feels like it's breaking. "Do you even care about me at all? I died, and you just moved on that quickly?"

He's fuming, but he doesn't want to lose his temper in front of you. He tries to take deep breaths to stay calm. His vision is beginning to blur.

“You were gone for four years, Jason. Four years. I waited, every single day for you. I wrote you letters, after letters. I prayed, and I begged, that by some miracle, you would come back, but you didn’t.” The pain is radiating through your entire body, You feel like you can’t breathe. You want to cry.

Jason can't believe you’re trying to justify your actions. Are your actually using his death as an excuse to cheat on him? Tears pour down his cheeks. He's shaking with rage. He's never felt so hurt in his life. The thought of you with another man makes his stomach turn.

"You should have waited," he chokes out, "I would have waited for you. I would never, ever, betray you like this.” Jason yells. He's trying so hard to keep himself calm. He can feel his heart beating in his chest. He wants to punch something. "You cheated on me, y/n, how could you do that to me?"

You’ve started to cry. Jason is still shaking with rage. He can see the tears in your eyes, but he's too blinded with anger to care about your feelings. “I can't believe you,” he mutters, his voice trembling with emotion. ”You betrayed me. You broke my trust. And now you're trying to make me feel bad for being hurt?”

Jason struggles to keep his voice from breaking, but the anger is overwhelming him. His heart is breaking into a million pieces.

“Baby, I love you. Please. You have to understand.” You plead, trying to hide the tears that are threatening to spill. “Please.” Your voice cracks in a way that makes his heart break ever so slightly.

Jason looks at you with anger and heartbreak in his eyes. "Don't." His voice is cold and firm. "Don't call me baby." He tries to keep his voice from cracking, but his emotions are running rampant inside him. He can't believe you hurt him like this, that you'd use his death as an excuse to betray him.

Jason feels like he can't breathe. His stomach churns at the sound of your begging, at the sight of your tears. Every ounce of love he had for you is being tainted by pure rage and heartbreak.

"Don't call me baby," he says in a voice dripping with ice. "You have no right to call me that anymore." Jason feels his whole world crumbling around him. He can't believe you would hurt him like this.

Jason's breathing has become rapid and shallow, as though his emotions are consuming the very air that he needs to survive. "Do you have any idea how much you've upset me?"

Jason's fists are trembling. His entire being feels like pure, raw emotion - everything that he feels for you and everything that you have done to him bubbling beneath the surface. His rage and heartbreak threaten to engulf him entirely.

“Please, Jay.” Is all you croak out, your pleading eyes staring into his cold, unforgiving ones. You place your left hand gently against his cheek, the coldness of your fingertips making him flinch.

Jason can hardly breath. You look like the person he loves, but you don't feel like the person he loves. Instead, he senses a stranger in front of him.

He flinches as your hand touches his face, an involuntary reaction. He doesn't want you to touch him. Not now. Not yet. He feels a flood of emotions welling up inside him and he doesn't know how to handle it. He wants to cry.

As if reading his mind, you pull your hand away. The distance between you feels like miles.

Jason stares at you mutely, unable to form a coherent word. His heart is breaking all over again. You broke his heart once by moving on and you break his heart again with your words. “Just tell me who it was.”

He can't believe how selfish you've become, how much you've changed. The person he loved is long dead.

And then you say those words, the words that cut him deeper than any wound could ever do. “Dick Grayson, It was Dick Grayson.”

[sister-juniper]

Cheater? (Terzo x Reader)

Angst with a happy ending :)

Summary: due to Terzo’s recent change in behavior, you assume the worst, but your assumption couldn’t be further from the truth

< Word count: 2359 >

my AO3

my Wattpad

—————————————

The past few weeks you have been noticing things being off. More specifically, things have been seeming off about your partner Terzo.

It all began when one night Terzo was 2 hours late arriving back to your shared quarters after his daily duties as Papa. He apologized, and you didn't think much of it, but it started to happen more and more frequently that he would be late.

You first brushed it off as Sister Imperator keeping him busy with extra work, as you knew that woman was a bit of a hardass when it came to Clergy business. However, this pattern continued for several weeks.

As the days passed, you grew more and more suspicious of what was actually going on.

You would question "Terzo, you keep coming home late. What is keeping you late almost daily??"

And he would respond "Mi dispiace amore, Imperator has been preparing me for the upcoming tour"

you nodded, and hoped he was telling the truth. After all, he was right. Him and the ghouls were going to be heading off on tour in a few months which did require extensive preparations.

It would be one thing if this was the only thing that was different with him, but this was not the case.

He started becoming more secretive. When you suddenly would enter into rooms he was in alone, you would notice him scramble a bit to hide whatever he was doing on his phone. Now this was incredibly suspicious.

You would shoot him a puzzled look and he would just shrug as if he had no idea what you were on about. It was driving you almost insane that he was acting like there was nothing different, even though there clearly was.

Things got to such an extent that the two of you stopped spending as much time together as usual. Terzo always seemed a little anxious around you, and that paired with the fact he was always "working" late didn't help.

After the second week passed with these things going on, you noticed fellow Siblings of Sin acting a bit weird around you too.

Whenever you would walk past a group of them, or into a room, it seemed that all eyes were on you. They would smirk and whisper to each other. You couldn't hear anything that they were saying, but your brain always assumed the worst.

How could you not assume the worst? How could stares, smirks, and whispers ever mean something good??

It seemed like almost the entire congregation knew something you didn't, and it drove you insane.

Was it something to do with Terzo? You prayed to Satan that it had nothing to do with him.

You and Terzo had been together for quite some time, over two years to be exact.

He had taken a liking to you ever since you had set foot into the Ministry. He had been there on your initiation day, he was there for your first black mass, and he had made efforts to take any chance he could to speak with you at various Clergy events.

His feelings all became clear the day he pulled you aside, took your hands in his, and asked you out on a date. That was two months after you joined the Ministry.

You were like two peas in a pod, completing each other. His extrovertedness balanced out your introvertedness, and the other way around.

The two of you could make hours of conversation, you both had so many things in common. You were both musical, both singers, and he taught you what he knew on guitar and piano.

He would place his hands over yours and teach you simple but beautiful songs on the piano. He would even pitch to you his song lyrics for Ghost, and ask for your opinions and criticisms.

You were with him throughout the recording and release of the "Popestar" EP, and you even had a part in writing the lyrics for their hit song, "Square Hammer".

You loved him dearly, and he loved you even more. He would tell you this multiple times each day. He would wake you up every morning with a kiss and asking you how you slept.

Before he left every day he would say "ti amo" and kiss you as deeply as he could before having to leave you each day. His kisses showed the desperation and sadness that he felt having to leave you every day, it was obvious he cherished you deeply.

Terzo was also amazing at planning dates. He would surprise you with your favorite bouquet of flowers, and take you to do various fun activities of all categories.

Some dates would be more casual and playful, such as the amusement park or bowling alley. Or they would be more formal such as a fine dining restaurant or wine tasting event. Both of these types you loved equally.

Your relationship was perfect, no fighting, and whenever the two of you had disagreements they would always be resolved peacefully. There was no lying nor yelling. You respected and loved each other.

All of this is why Terzo's current antics made you incredibly anxious and also upset. You feared the absolute worst, you feared he was losing interest in you, or even worse, cheating on you.

Before the two of you had become an item, you knew he had a promiscuous reputation. He was constantly sleeping around with Siblings of Sin. You were told the love he had for you was incredibly rare, and he hardly ever saw anything special in the people he took to bed.

It made you incredibly elated when you realized that you were the exception, that he saw something special in you. You had crushed on him ever since you arrived, but had absolutely zero hope he felt the same. He did however feel the same, but now you were wondering if that was ever true at all.

You would have consistent nervous breakdowns. Crying in the bed you shared while he was out "working" became a common occurance. It drove you insane with the thought he could be being unfaithful. You would sob and sob and hope that his change in behavior was all just some weird dream. You hoped you would wake up and everything would be back to normal.

You were confused on what to do. You didn't know if you should talk with him about it or not. You were worried that if you did, he would leave you.

You know you shouldn't be with a cheater, but you couldn't bare to lose him either. You'd rather stay with him being unfaithful than completely be without him.

After all, it would still hurt to walk the Ministry halls and probably see him with whatever new Sibling of Sin he chose to be his partner. It would crush your soul to a billion pieces.

After another week of consistent meltdowns, and contemplating, you decided to make the hard decision and just ask him about it. Maybe it could all be a misunderstanding? But you knew that was the best case scenario. What other explanation could there be for all of this weird behavior from both Terzo and your mutual friends?

You were sitting in the big bed in your shared quarters, awaiting his arrival at the end of the day. Your eyes were red from crying, but this time you made no effort to hide your tears. You wanted him to ask you what was wrong. You wanted him to see the pain he had caused you.

At 9:00 pm, two hours after he was scheduled to be finished with his Papal duties, you heard the key turn in the door.

Terzo opened the door with a smile on his face "Amore! I am back!!"

You said nothing, and just looked up at him with tears streaming down your face. His face fell when he saw your facial expression, and he immediately rushed over to the bed where you were sitting.

"Amorina... what is the matter? Is everything okay??"

You shook your head

"Okay... do you want to talk about it?"

Your lips started to tremble and more tears streamed down your face.

Terzo took your hands in his "It's okay, I am here now. I can do my best to help you cara mia..."

You took a deep breath before speaking "T-Terzo... what is up with you lately??"

He looked at you panicked but confused "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?? Do you not notice how weird you have been acting??"

"No... can you go into more detail?"

It angered you how he was essentially playing dumb. "Oh you know, how you have been late almost every day for the past three weeks"

Terzo opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off. "Or how you hide your phone from me constantly, or how Siblings of Sin smirk at me and whisper whenever I'm around them" you spat out.

"Amore..."

"What is the meaning of all of this?? What could this possibly mean??" You yelled while tears streamed down your face

"Amore I-"

"Am I not enough for you? I love you so much Terzo... what is happening??"

"Cara just listen please..."

You took a deep breath trying to calm yourself before you got too angry. "Okay.."

"There is a good reason for all of this.. you will find out soon but I cannot tell you right now"

You shot him a perplexed look "what do you mean you can't tell me right now??"

"I'm sorry amore but I just can't, you need to trust me on this"

More tears began to prick at your eyes "what possible explaination could there be?? Why can't you just tell me now??" You shout at him while standing up

He follows your actions and also stands "Cara mia.. it's nothing bad please.."

"How the fuck should I believe that Terzo?" You shouted at him while turning to look at him

Your face was emotionless and cold, with a mix of exhaustion. You had been dealing this for too long, and you still couldn't get an explanation.

"I cry in here almost every day about this and you still won't tell me??"

Terzo's heart broke hearing those words. "Cara.. you cry every day? Why didn't you say anything until now??”

"Because I don't want you to leave me!!"

"Amorina... now why would I do that?"

"There is someone else isn't there??"

Terzo stared at your with total confusion and heartbreak. "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?? Terzo, you have been acting incredibly suspicious. All the signs point to you being unfaithful..."

"But I would never! I promise you, that is so far from the truth"

You sigh angrily "okay so, if that is not the truth, then what is?? What is the possible explanation??"

Terzo sighs and tries to take your hands in his again, but you pull away from him. "Cara mia wh-"

"Tell me right now Terzo. What the fuck have you been up to?" You say coldly

Terzo realizes he can't hide it from you anymore, he has to tell you. No matter how much he wants to keep it secret, you need to know. It was clearly killing you to not know the truth.

He sighs deeply before speaking "Amorina... the reason I have been acting like this is because I have been planning to propose to you.."

Your face changes from anger to shock in a split second "W-What?"

"Yes, that is the reason."

"B-but, how does it make sense?"

Terzo chuckles "Well.. I have been so late because I have been spending my time after work planning the proposal"

"Oh..."

"And the reason I have been secretive with my phone is because I have been searching for engagement rings"

"But what about the Siblings? Why are they whispering?"

"It is because most of them already know my plans, they all figured it out by now"

Now you can't help but feel extremely guilty. He had been planning a proposal, but your immediate assumption was that he was cheating.

Tears prick at your eyes once again, and you start sobbing heavily.

"Amore, are you okay? What is the matter now??" He says as he rushes to hug you

"I'm sorry Terzo, I'm so so sorry" you choke out through sobs

"No no amore, it is me who should be sorry, I am horrible at hiding these things"

"I can't believe I just assumed that, but you were planning to propose this whole time..."

"It's okay, it's okay. I was acting quite suspicious" he says with a light chuckle "I'm quite bad at hiding things"

You sniffle and look up at him "I love you Terzo"

He smiles warmly and looks into your eyes "I love you too amore, so so much"

He kisses you deeply and you melt into his touch. Your heart slowly starts to return to a normal beat as the relief washes over your body. He isn't cheating on you, he just wanted to propose. Wait... he wants to propose??

The realization hits you and you immediately pull back from him. "W-wait, you want to... propose?"

Terzo smiles warmly "Yes, that is what I am planning"

"Oh my gosh Terzo... you want me to marry you??"

"Why yes of course, who else would I marry?"

A huge smile crosses your face and you squeal in excitement while embracing him in a big hug. You squeeze him tightly and he laughs at your sudden burst of excitement.

"Of course I would marry you Terzo!! Oh my gosh!!"

"Well I'm glad you say yes, I guess the surprise proposal won't be super necessary now huh?"

You kiss him lightly and chuckle "you can still do it, I'm a sucker for a fancy proposal"

He sighs with some relief "good, good. I'm a sucker for those too"

To say the least, you are incredibly relieved and also elated at the thought of marrying Terzo. Your suspicions were the absolute opposite from the truth, and it made so much more sense.

—————————————

[breederking]

Isaiah always knew he would be different, but never imagined it would come to this. At 32, he was living in a world that constantly reminded him of how much he didn't belong. His transition had been long and painful, but not in the way people typically thought. The real agony was the pregnancy. Every day, the weight of it pressed deeper into his skin, a reminder that his body, the one he had worked so hard to make his own, was doing something that felt so foreign.

It started subtly at first, a discomfort in his lower abdomen, a tightness he passed off as gas. But soon, it became undeniable. His belly rounded, gently at first, then steadily growing heavier. Isaiah tried his best to hide it, throwing on oversized sweatshirts and loose pants, but the bulge became too obvious. It felt like every time he stepped out into the world, people were looking at him—specifically at his stomach. They stared, whispered, and some even had the nerve to say something.

Isaiah stood at the checkout line of a local grocery store, gripping his cart. He was used to the stares by now, but today it felt worse. The cashier, a young woman with a perky smile, glanced at him as she scanned his items.

“You, uh... you look pregnant,” she said with an awkward laugh.

Isaiah felt his face flush, heat creeping up his neck. He hated how obvious it had become, how everyone noticed. It felt like a betrayal of everything he was trying to hide. He quickly cleared his throat, forcing a smile.

“Oh, no,” he chuckled, trying to sound casual. “I’ve just been drinking too much, you know? I think it’s just bloating or something.”

The cashier nodded, a little too quickly, and didn’t press further, but Isaiah could feel her eyes lingering on him as he grabbed his bags and walked out.

It wasn’t just strangers. It was his coworkers, too.

Isaiah had been working part-time at a local convenience store ever since he finished college. He didn’t need the job, but it helped with the loneliness and gave him structure. Most of the time, it was easy to manage, but lately, the discomfort was becoming unbearable. Every time he bent over to reach for something, every time he twisted to grab a product off a shelf, his stomach would pull uncomfortably. It had grown so large by now that it felt like carrying a weight that was never meant to be borne.

One day, while stocking shelves, his coworker Jake—who was always so oblivious—turned to him with a grin.

“You’re looking pretty pregnant today, man,” Jake said, nudging him lightly.

Isaiah stiffened. He wasn’t sure how to respond. He’d never had to pretend this much in his life.

“Yeah, I’ve been... dealing with some health stuff,” Isaiah said, his voice a little too high-pitched. “Some medication I’m on. It makes me... bloated.”

Jake seemed satisfied with the explanation, though Isaiah could see the doubt flicker in his eyes. Jake was a good guy, but he wasn’t dumb. Isaiah knew this lie wouldn’t last forever.

The real breaking point came one afternoon while Isaiah was working the register. The air in the store felt unusually stuffy, and he was starting to sweat. His chest tingled, a feeling he had come to dread since the pregnancy started. He tried to ignore it, but the sensation grew more intense. He pressed his palm against his shirt, feeling something wet. Looking down, he was horrified to see milk soaking through the stretched fabric.

He froze.

Lactating.

It had been months since he’d started showing signs of this, but seeing it for the first time sent him into a panic. His body—his chest, his belly, his everything—was betraying him. He could feel the wetness slide down his stomach, and he quickly pulled his shirt away from his skin, praying nobody could see the milk dripping down.

His heart raced as he tried to maintain his composure, but it was too much. He had to leave.

“I—I’m not feeling well,” Isaiah stammered to his boss when he went to check on him. “The medicine I’m taking for... my stomach... it’s making me feel worse.”

His boss, a kindly older man who had seen Isaiah through many shifts, simply nodded.

“Go home, get some rest. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

The walk home was a slow, agonizing ordeal. His hips felt wider, as though they were giving way to the weight of what he was carrying. His stomach hung lower, the baby moving inside him with increasing force. Isaiah found it harder to breathe, his chest tight with each step. He could feel the baby’s kicks pushing at his insides, and for the first time in months, he actually felt a flicker of love for the little life inside him.

Still, there was so much shame. So much. He couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone was looking at him like he was some freak. His belly felt like a beacon, calling attention to itself, to him. The tightness in his chest had little to do with the baby. It was the pressure of the world’s gaze.

When he finally made it home, he collapsed onto the couch, exhausted. His sweatshirt had ridden up, exposing his swollen stomach, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He sat there, rubbing his belly absentmindedly, and for a brief moment, he felt a warmth in his chest. Maybe it was the baby kicking or the relief of being alone for a while, but it was the first time in months that he felt somewhat at peace.

“Hey there, little one,” he whispered, his hand moving over the hard curve of his belly. “We’re almost there.”

He could feel the baby respond with a gentle kick, and he smiled, even though the moment was bittersweet.

The next morning was a blur of pain and exhaustion. Isaiah woke up feeling... different. He sat up in bed, clutching his stomach as he peered at himself in the mirror. His belly had dropped significantly, hanging lower than it ever had before, its weight now resting heavily on his pelvis.

“Oh, no,” he whispered to himself. His heart began to race.

He struggled to get dressed, lifting his belly just to pull up his pants. The weight of it was unbearable now, and he had to stop every few steps to catch his breath. His body was no longer his own. His chest tightened with the thought.

But there was no avoiding it. He had to go to work. So, he pulled on his uniform and made the agonizing walk back to the store.

The day was miserable. Isaiah had never felt so miserable in his life. He spent most of the day behind the counter, struggling to remain upright. He could feel sweat dripping down his back, his whole body tense with discomfort. The baby kicked relentlessly, pushing against his insides. Isaiah could barely catch his breath.

At some point, he had to ask for a chair.

“Boss, can I sit down?” he asked, his voice shaky. “I’m having trouble standing.”

His boss, seeing his pale face, frowned deeply. “Of course. You’re not looking so hot today. Take a seat.”

Isaiah sank into the chair, grateful for the brief relief, though it was short-lived. Soon, he felt the unmistakable sensation between his legs. Something was... leaking. Slowly, a trickle of warm fluid began to spread through his pants. His water was breaking.

He froze, panic rising in his chest. The chair beneath him darkened with his fluids, and Isaiah knew there wasn’t much time.

There were no customers in the store. He could leave... He could go to the bathroom.

He barely made it there in time. Once inside the employee bathroom, Isaiah locked the door and tried to calm himself. His back pressed against the cool wall as he felt for his baby’s head. The pain was already intense, but he couldn’t let it show. He had to be quiet.

As he knelt on the floor, panting, he heard a knock at the door.

“Isaiah? You okay in there?”

It was his boss.

“I’m fine,” Isaiah choked out, trying to sound normal. “I just spilled my water bottle... I’m sorry.”

There was a pause, but his boss must have believed him because the knock stopped. Isaiah continued to rock back and forth, the baby’s head emerging slowly.

By the time his boss knocked again, it was too late. Isaiah couldn’t hide it anymore. He was groaning in pain, unable to hold back. The pressure in his lower body was unbearable.

The door creaked open, and Isaiah’s boss and coworker stood frozen, their eyes wide with shock as they saw Isaiah, bent over on all fours, crowning.

The two men rushed to his side, desperate. Isaiah didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t do this. He was too embarrassed, too humiliated.

But there was no turning back now.

With a quiet groan, Isaiah gave one final push, and his coworker caught the baby.

It was over.

Isaiah lay there, trembling, his body exhausted and sore, the world spinning around him. The baby cried in his coworker’s arms.

[bonesxbows]

Through the Frontier (Connor x Reader)

My Masterlist

prompt: scary short story for class

based on the Native American legend of the wendigo

you and Connor are riding through the woods at night and Connor can sense that the two of you aren't alone

(WARNINGS) - scary themes - horror themes - no happy ending

please do not read if you get/have anxiety about the dark, it's talked about a lot in this one, but otherwise, I hope you like it! It's a bit short, but my class has a word limit so I had to work with what I was allowed.

comments and reblogs much appreciated!

Banners by @strangergraphics

Riding horses through the forests of the frontier at night was never a well-suggested way to spend one’s evening, but yet here you and Connor were, on top of your horses trotting through the fallen brush and dirt, the cold tendrils of the night stinging your skin. The two of you would have usually stopped for the night to avoid the dangers that the darkness liked to hide, but Boston needed help and you doubt you would make it in time had you stopped. 

So on the two of you rode, pushing through the dark with only the moonlight to guide you. Everything was bathed in shadows, adding a layer of unknown to your surroundings, but Connor always stayed within arm's reach, him being the only source of comfort in the sea of uneasiness that threatened to swallow you whole. 

“We should be able to reach the outskirts of the town by sunrise,” he said, his voice, not any higher than a whisper. 

“How much longer will sunrise be?” you asked, fighting to hold down a yawn. Maybe Connor was used to not sleeping some nights but that was a skill you had still yet to conquer. He looked to the pitch-black sky, gathering information that he had a way of figuring out just by looking around. 

“A few more hours, perhaps sooner,” he responded, the clicking of the horses’ hooves against the dirt filling in the silence. 

You fell back into a dazed state, letting your body toy with the idea of sleep, confident your horse would know what to do and keep up side by side with Connor’s horse. Your eyes were half-lidded, the shadows of trees and forest brush passing by you in wisps when your horse suddenly stopped. 

You were fully awake again in seconds, the abruptness sending adrenaline through your system. You looked for Connor, who was still on his horse directly next to yours. He had also stopped and now sat as still as the shadows surrounding you. 

“Connor? What’s wrong?” you asked, panic laced in your words. He didn’t respond, his gaze set on the horizon of trees and bushes. 

It was eerie quiet, no breeze rattled the branches, no animal made any noise, even your horses were completely still and silent. The quiet was deafening. 

And then, you heard it. The sound of heavy breathing. Heavy human breathing. It wasn’t your own breath, or even Connor’s - who was still so unmoving you could have mistaken him for a corpse - no, it was someone, or something, else. But yet it sounded as if the person was standing right next to you, in fact, you swore you could feel the warm ticklish breath along your neck, but that had to just be a freak breeze, right?

“Connor?” you called out, your voice quivering. You wanted to reach out to him, for him to tell you everything was okay, to be told that it was all just the dark playing tricks on the two of you, but you were too frightened to even move. 

He didn’t respond again, but simply reached for your horse’s reins, and spurred his into action, your horse following behind his as he raced the two of you out of the forest.

The outlines of trees and brush whipped by your face as the horses ran, your horse trying desperately to keep up with Connor’s as he towed it by the reins. You held on to the horse’s mane, praying that you wouldn’t fall off in the process of trying to leave this accursed forest behind. As you kept your head down and watched the forest disappear from your vision bit by bit, you swore you could see a shadow of a figure stalking through the treetops, following the two of you with surprising speed. 

Soon the two of you were past the trees, the forest now behind you, along with whatever else lie creeping in its dark shadows. Connor stared back at the forest, seemingly calm, at least on the outside, while you on the other hand were still trying to calm your frazzled nerves. 

“Connor? What was that?” you asked between deep breaths, trying not to let your fear show through your voice. He was silent for a moment before he started to explain.

“There are tales of creatures in these woods. Dark, evil things. I did not want to give it a chance to attack.” he told you, but the explanation did not help the situation at all. It made your heart race faster than before. What “creatures” were in these woods? And if they were so terrifying that they even made Connor run, a man who was not easily spooked, then why weren’t they being dealt with? Why let them continue to stalk this forest?

You looked back at the tree line that Connor was staring at, peering into the darkness. Whatever light came from the moon overhead was swallowed by the overpowering shadows. It looked like the mouth of Hell, what with the darkened tree branches taking on the form of teeth, the gaping black pit in the center. But if you truly stared, and maybe, perhaps squinted a bit, you swore you could see two orange eyes and a mouth full of sharp teeth staring back at you. 

“What are these creatures, Connor? Can they be dealt with?” you asked, but your words fell on deaf ears. 

“Connor?” you called out, turning back around to look for your companion. But he was gone, nowhere in sight. No trail of footprints, no horse, no nothing. He and his horse seemed to have just vanished. 

Which meant that you were now alone, in the dark, with whatever creature lie waiting just beyond the trees, hiding out in the darkness, waiting for the right moment to strike its prey.

[finalgirl69]

sun bleached flies.

(content warning; implied smut)

Ilse Abernathy pulled her shawl over her head to try and get some type of relief from the heavy rainstorm passing through District 12 that had turned the streets into a river of mud.

The sound of a child’s cries stopped Ilse short, peering through the heavy sleet of rain to see a lump on the side of the road, pressed against the foundation of a house.

Carefully approaching the bundled thing, Ilse gasped in shock; A little girl, no more than five or six, shoveling mud in her mouth for sustenance. “No, no, no!” Ilse gently scolded the little girl, scraping the mud out of her mouth and sitting her upright like a doll.

Lifting the girl into her arms, Ilse rushed twice as fast to her home; The wind practically blew the door off its hinges as Ilse came in with the rain. “Haymitch! Start boiling water!” She called to her eldest son, who watched from the doorway with suspicious gray eyes.

“Who’s she?” Eight-year-old Haymitch held his baby brother, Nemo, in his thin arms.

After a mining accident that took Mr. Abernathy’s life; At eight years old, Haymitch became the defunct ‘man of the house’, and he wasn’t too sure how he felt about another mouth to feed.

“Someone who needs our help,” Ilse cooed and hushed at the little girl when she whimpered and tried to fight her off when she wiped her face clean with her skirts. “Haymitch! The water! Please hurry!”

Rolling his grey eyes, Haymitch put Nemo in his cradle and put an empty bucket outside, filling it quickly and tossing it on the stove with a loud thump that caused a wave of water to dump over the edge and wet his clothes.

The little girl explained through chattering teeth that her ‘Amma and Baba’ had passed away from sickness while traveling through the Districts, sending her into 12 when they could go no further.

With the water heated to a safe temperature, Ilse had garnered enough trust from the little girl to allow her to clean her up in the tub, scrubbing her hands and hair with lavender soap.

Once she was clean, Ilse gave the girl a bowl of porridge. “Do you have a name?” She thought it was peculiar; The girl’s pitch-black hair contrasted by jade-green eyes reminded Ilse of the Seam’s signature dark hair and gray eyes look.

“Lotus Pray.” The girl replied through spoonfuls of porridge. “Thank you.” She added, sniffling and wiping her eyes with the back of her tiny brown hand. “I miss my Amma and Baba.”

“When’s she leaving?” Haymitch held Lotus with a little contempt, didn’t she know they didn’t have the food and soap to spare?

“Haymitch.” Ilse scolded her son, looking back at Lotus and taking her hands in her worn ones. “You will stay the night. How does that sound?”

Lotus hadn’t slept in a bed since she crossed the water for months and months and it was a sweet relief to crawl under heavy thick blankets snuggled by the warm of sharing a small cot with Haymitch and the baby.

Haymitch did not hide his annoyance as he turned his back on Lotus and crossed his arms over his chest, drifting off to sleep to the sound of Lotus quietly talking to Nemo as the rain pattered on the window pane.

The next morning after the rain stopped and the sun shone across District 12, Lotus was old enough to understand a welcome overstayed, thanking Ilse and walking off into the grove of trees. ‘Good riddance.’ Haymitch thought to himself as he watched Lotus’ retreating figure disappear.

-

Ilse was carrying on a conversation with a babbling Nemo while she hung laundry on the line and Haymitch was in school, disinterested in the subject of Lotus.

The sound of tapping on the door made Ilse pause, putting Nemo on her hip and investigating the front door. “Hello?” She curiously called out, looking down and pleasantly surprised to find a potato sack bursting at the seams and filled to the brim with blueberries. “Oh!”

Some branches rustled and Ilse peered into the woods to see the edge of a skirt. “Lotus?” She called, laughing softly and kneeling to scoop a handful of blueberries in her hand and pop them in her mouth.

A sharp tartness exploded in Ilse’s mouth, she never had time to go pick blueberries. “Did you do this?” She asked the little girl, who nodded while nervously sucking on her thumb. “Well, I suppose I could bake this into a pie, would you like to help me?”

Lotus nodded and a tiny grin cracked her serious features, helping Ilse haul the bag inside; the mother of two wondered how little Lotus had carried the bag from The Meadow back to the Abernathy’s. “Why, you’re awful strong aren’t you?”

The little girl shrugged bashfully, her face reddening even further when the front door opened and slammed shut, Haymitch staring daggers at her. “What’s she doing here?”

“Look what Lotus brought us, Haymitch!” Ilse showed her son the bag of blueberries and even he could not hide his elation. “Thanks.” He said lamely to Lotus, scratching the back of his neck and scuffing the toe of his shoe against the stove.

Haymitch had no choice but to get used to Lotus’ presence, his mother had grown fond of her and he couldn’t tell her to go away, no matter how much he would have liked to.

That didn’t stop Haymitch from digging up worms while fishing and dangling them in front of Lotus’ face, making her shriek and run away while he chased her while covered head-to-toe in mud.

With Ilse having worked in town and Haymitch attending school, Lotus offered to babysit Nemo in exchange for dinner and housing from the Abernathys, which was beyond Haymitch’s understanding.

But Lotus had a big heart and not even Haymitch was immune to her charms, he begrudgingly held her hand on her first day of school, eating and studying together.

At sixteen; Haymitch and Lotus practically lived in The Meadow, fishing at the lake, picking berries in the valley and apples from the trees.

A fox had made himself Haymitch and Lot’s companion. Haymitch had argued the fox was a walking meal on four legs but Lot would not allow him to kill the animal.

“Look at him.” Lot cooed, scooping the fox into her arms like a baby and holding him out to Haymitch, who scrunched his nose at the fox.

Yipping and rubbing its head into Lot’s cheek, the fox abruptly stopped for a second to look at Haymitch out of the corner of its eye as if to say. ‘Don’t you wish this were you?’ “I don’t know why you let that dirty mongrel follow you around.”

“Someone said that to me about you yesterday.” Lot shot back with a teasing grin, gently squeezing Haymitch’s arm to ensure he knew it was a joke.

Huffing loudly, Haymitch flopped on his back in the grass and put his head on Lotus’ lap; she sat cross-legged with her skirt splayed around them like a blanket. “You ever…” He rolled his gray eyes, Haymitch’s friends had teased him during a conversation about girls. “I dunno…Do you like the boys at school?”

Lotus absentmindedly stroked Haymitch’s face, watching the sunset over the valley. “I guess I never thought about it much.” That wasn’t entirely true. “All the girls do is talk about you, you know.”

Haymitch knew that. He didn’t feel like further discussing the subject suddenly. “I don’t care about them.” Haymitch stifled a sigh when Lotus gently smoothed his furrowed brow. “I care about you.” She said it so quietly Haymitch almost didn’t hear it.

-

Eighteen-year-old Haymitch half-carried a conversation with his friends as they exited the mouth of the mines for their lunch break, his dark eyes locking on Lot in her best dress, flowers, and ribbons woven into her braids.

“Hello!” Lotus stood on her tiptoes and kissed Haymitch’s cheek, leaving the scent of rose oil on his face.

“Hello,” Haymitch smirked at the looks and joking catcalls as he shooed off his friends, wrapping his strong arms around Lot’s waist and lifting her for a peck on the lips. “You look beautiful today.” He complimented, tugging gently on the end of one of her braids.

“Why, thank you.” Lot grinned when Haymitch hiked up her skirt and pulled her body flush against his, she reached up and undid the first few buttons of his mining uniform, placing her hands on his bare and sweaty chest.

“Make love to me at midnight in the Meadow.” She whispered in his ear, moaning softly when Haymitch cupped the back of her neck and kissed her passionately.

The sound of Haymitch’s friends whooping and hollering made him break away with a lovestruck grin. “Take your mangy fox and get out of here.” He kissed her cheek and smacked Lot from behind when she turned to leave.

Haymitch distinctly remembered promising his mother he would not sleep in the same bed as Lot until he was eighteen, as they could not afford another mouth to feed.

It didn’t stop Haymitch from sneaking to Lot’s little house by the lake every evening to cradle her in his arms.

-

Mud fell in large wet clumps from the tall, dark-haired man as he limped through the rain-sodden streets.

If Haymitch thought about it; He could remove his clothes and dive into the mud river flowing past his soaked legs and swim back to his house.

Nemo had taken his leave from the mines early; Haymitch insisted Nemo go home to prepare for the Reaping while Haymitch picked up the rest of his shift.

Haymitch passed a scarred hand through his soaked, black curls. He was soaked to the bone but the sound of his girl singing warmed him from head to toe.

With his split lip bleeding from grinning, Haymitch circled the cement hut, crouching low beside her laundry basket.

When she returned with an armful of towels, Haymitch popped up and screamed, shaking his mud-covered arms like some type of swamp-like creature.

Frozen still; The girl stared back with wide gray eyes before drawing her lips back and giving a mighty “RAHHHH!!!” Shaking her long, braided hair in his face like a ferocious animal.

Bolting after Haymitch; The young couple chased each other around the small concrete house that Lotus called home.

Snatching a broom, Lotus’ skirt twirled around her ankles as she faced off with Haymitch. “What happened to you?” She pulled back at the sight of blood running down his chin. “Bad day in the mines?”

Earlier that morning; Haymitch had visited the black market known as The Hob, in search of a ring.

Jewelry was considered useless in District 12, most couples settled for a piece of twine wrapped around their left ring finger.

Lot wasn’t any woman; She was Haymitch’s girl and if they planned on running from 12 after the Reaping, he wanted her to know that he was her man.

Digging through the streets for fallen coins, and collecting fresh berries, and stale bread from the bakery dumpster; Haymitch bartered with one of the many stall owners for a gold band adorned with a chipped and worn diamond.

“This is all I have.” His gray eyes bore deeply into the vendor’s eyes. “It’s for my girl.”

“Oh. Well, when you put it like that.” The vendor wasn’t much older than Haymitch, which irritated him as he stared back with sympathetic eyes, holding the ring out over Haymitch’s open palm. “It’s three tesserae extra.”

That’s when Haymitch socked the man in the jaw, snatched the ring, and ran.

Not his cleverest plan.

The vendor and his friends got the jump on Haymitch and searched him for the ring, but no such luck.

“Good luck to you and your girl now!” The vendor sneered before stalking off with his friends.

Ensuring the coast was clear, Haymitch dug into the corner of his mouth, wincing and gagging as he produced the ring from its spot lodged in his teeth. ‘Ha!’ He felt a surge of pride, wincing as he resumed his walk to Lot.

“What makes you say that?” Haymitch grinned mischievously while Lot tousled his curls, stiff from the drying mud in his hair. “You better clean up, your Momma gave me these.” She held up a clean pair of folded trousers and a tunic.

Haymitch wrinkled his nose and Lot sighed and put her hands on the broad expanse of his chest, toned from his years in the mines.

“I’ll help you clean up.” She gave him a coy smile that Haymitch couldn’t help rolling his eyes and returning.

Grimacing as Lot dumped a freezing bucket of water on his head, Haymitch leaped off the tiny stool Lot had sat him down on and yelped.

“It would have been hot if you weren’t late!” She scolded while opening a tin box to remove an ivory bar of soap. “C’mere, you mutt.” She teased, referencing the Capitol creations used in the Games.

Like an old dog, Haymitch draped himself over Lot’s bare lap while she scrubbed his curls, and his soot-stained cheeks and picked his fingernails clean.

“So handsome.” Lot complimented, as she finished trimming his beard. “One more day.” She whispered, leaning in close so their lips were inches apart. “One more Reaping and it’s you and I in the trees.”

Lot practically breathed the words into Haymitch’s mouth. If anyone heard this, they would be hung for treason. “Is your family packed? Are they ready?”

“They’re ready,” Haymitch replied against Lot’s lips, “We celebrate with the neighbors and leave in the night.”

Lot sighed and crushed her soft lips against Haymitch’s chapped ones, she tasted like the rose oil she rubbed on her cheeks and lips. “There’s something I need to ask you before we leave, Lot.”

Haymitch watched Lot with a lovestruck grin as she kissed the scars and burns on his hands from years of the mines. “Go on then.”

A gold band flashed between Haymitch’s long brown fingers and Lot gasped, jumping back as if it were a live thing. “Where did you get that?” She hissed, looking around in case someone dared to pluck it from their intertwined hands and run.

Sinking to one knee in the hut, Haymitch winced from his aches and pains from the mines as he took Lot’s weathered hand in his own. “I, Haymitch Abernathy of District 12, ask for your hand, Lotus Pray, in marriage.” He recited perfectly after rounds and rounds of practice with his brother.

Lot fought hard to contain her excitement, hopping up and down and kicking up coal dust with her boots. “I, Lotus Pray of District 12, accept your hand, Haymitch Abernathy, in marriage.” She recited back, hand trembling as Haymitch shakily slid the ring on her bony finger.

“Where did you find such a thing?” Lot sighed at the ring of flame design that curled around her wedding finger. “I promise to cherish this forever. Oh, Haymitch-“ She buried her face in his chest, his long, strong arms closing around her. “I love you.”

Haymitch kissed the top of her head, his mouth traveling down to kiss her face, the side of her mouth, and then a long passionate kiss.

Moaning softly, Haymitch placed a hand underneath her dress, his rough palm flat against her soft thigh, lifting her onto the table in one strong movement.

“We’ll be late…” Lot rested her back against the cool stone wall as Haymitch sank to his knees and parted her legs. “Peacekeepers’ll have to drag me away from you.”

Lot laughed and leaned back, closing her hand in Haymitch’s mess of curls as he licked a long trail of saliva from her knee to her inner thigh.

Long, strong but thin fingers moved Lot’s underwear to the side, damp enough that she would need to change before they left.

“H-!” Lot clapped a hand over her mouth when they both heard footsteps pass by, voices talking about The Reaping.

Lot sighed and leaned back, stroking his face with the back of her hand. “Come on. Let’s get it over with.” She placed the folded clothes in his arms and shooed for him to get ready to go.

-

“You made a mess of me.” Lot quietly scolded Haymitch as they walked hand into town, to The Reaping. Nemo trodded along beside them, holding Lot’s hand as well. “You’re welcome,” Haymitch whispered back with a prideful grin, his hair still a mess from the day's events.

Tapping her hand, Nemo looked curiously at the gold band around Lot’s finger. “Isn’t it pretty?” She showed the little boy how the diamond glittered in the sunlight.

“It is,” Haymitch replied, secretly squeezing her hand tightly in his own.

“Look.” Stopping at a nearby pond, Haymitch crouched and dipped his cupped hands underneath a lily pad floating above the jade-green water, pulling them up sharply to pluck the bright pink lotus flower that sat atop it.

“For you.” He twirled the stem between his fingers as he tucked it behind Lot’s ear.

“Pretty.” Nemo complimented, swinging Lot’s hand back and forth. “Why thank you.” Lot swept low in a curtsy, his brother giggled and hid his face in Haymitch’s arm.

Lining up in the boys’ queue with Nemo, Haymitch gave Lot an encouraging nod as she lined up with the girls.

The Gamemakers still struggled to find the perfect age group for tributes, ranging from as young as twelve to as old as twenty.

Haymitch and Lot were on their last year in The Reaping pool, feeling lucky, they put their names in multiple times to receive tesserae for their families, even if it meant their odds went up.

It was sick logic, but Haymitch and Lot banked on the hope the Gamemakers wanted a younger tribute pool to raise the stakes of the games, uninterested in young adults dying as most of the young male population had dwindled during the Dark Days of the War.

Haymitch found Lot in the crowd of girls, her pink lotus flower still tucked behind her ear; He was so concentrated on how beautiful she looked, his ring on her finger, his flower in her hair, that Haymitch did not notice as one of the vendor’s friend from earlier that morning took the stage.

-

Blood running cold, Haymitch locked eyes with the man, now dressed in white Peacekeeper armor, as he addressed the crowd. “Welcome to the Reaping of the Annual 50th Hunger Games.” He was unsurprised when he was met with silence.

“In case you have not been following the cycle of the Games, this year has fallen upon the Second Quarter Quell.”

A ripple of murmurs flowed through the crowd. “And following the tradition of the Second Quarter Quell; We will reap twice as many tributes from each district.”

‘Fuck!’ Haymitch clenched his jaw and stared back at Lot; What if-?

“We will start with the girls.” Haymitch didn’t hold his breath until both girls had been reaped, one he didn’t know, and the other a friend of Lot’s; Maysilee Donner.

“And now for the boys.”

Closing his eyes, Haymitch could hear the blood roaring in his ears as the first male was called, not his brother. “The second male tribute from District 12 is…”

The Peacekeeper didn’t even bother to read the slip of paper as leaned into the mic as close as possible, locking eyes with him in the crowd. “Haymitch Abernathy.”

-

Lot rushed to wrap her arms tight around Nemo when he clung to Haymitch, sobbing and begging him not to go. “You have to let him go!” Lot felt like a monster as she ripped Nemo from Haymitch, but this is what she had promised if this day ever came, and it did.

“What a strapping young man.” The Peacekeeper wanted to see if he could goad the eldest Abernathy son into a fight. “Well, at least it’s a break from the coal mines. Your father couldn’t have been afforded that.”

The look that Haymitch’s face twisted into made the Peacekeeper gleeful. “District Twelve, your tributes.” He gestured to the four tributes on stage before they were escorted into the Hall of Justice.

Haymitch felt one hot tear roll down his cheek as he turned his back on the crowd, drowning out the sound of his mother and brother’s sobs.

-

“Lot will bring you milk and food.” Haymitch rubbed the top of his mother’s hand while Nemo lay with his head in his lap.

“She will arrange for someone to bring you meat from the woods. Keep low and don’t let that Peacekeeper near you if you can help it.”

There was so much Haymitch wanted to tell them; That he was sorry, that he wasn’t sure if he would be coming home to them.

“One last person to say goodbye then it’s the train.” Haymitch briefly calculated the risk of snapping the Peacekeeper’s neck right then and there.

A hanging seemed more honorable than this.

“Haymitch!” Lot flew into the room, throwing her arms around his neck and letting him lift her feet off the ground. “Oh, Haymitch.” She touched his face, memorizing his scars, the curve of his lips, the furrow of his brow.

“Be strong for me,” Haymitch whispered against her face. “I-“ He felt a painful seizing in his chest, anxiety flooding his body.

“Oh God, Lot.” It finally crashed down on Haymitch, the gravity of his sentencing. “This is all my fault.” He hurriedly explained the events of that morning to her, she listened with sorrowful eyes. “I’m so sorry, Lot.”

“No.” Lot took the flower Haymitch had given her that morning, placing it in his shirt pocket. “You will go and you will show them you don’t need to play their game to win. Don’t let them turn you into a monster. You’re a good man, Haymitch Abernathy.”

The Peacekeeper interrupted their passionate embrace, looking gleeful to do so. “Your date is over. Time to go.”

“Haymitch,” Lot fought against the Peacekeepers as they began to separate the young couple. “Haymitch-! She screamed, clawing at the shoulder of a Peacekeeper’s armor as he dragged her off.

“Lot-!” Haymitch roughly shoved off the Peacekeeper who called his name at the Reaping, grabbing Lotus’ face and kissing her one last time. “Stay safe! Keep them safe-!”

The doors slammed shut between them and Haymitch was hauled off to the train station