#she's lumped in with my other ghosts

[patchworkmelody]

Look at how much she's improved :>

This is shadow kid, and as she'll very proudly tell you, she is seven years old!

[trans-xianxian]

my rat has a weird sore on her 😭😭😭

[rin-may-1103]

Just a Bite.

Master Post | Next

Danny stared out at the busy street from behind his dumpster.

or well, not his dumpster, but it might as well be his considering how many nights he's spent sitting behind it like some rabid raccoon.

Two months ago, he would have been sleeping in his own bed. His glow-in-the-dark stars vaguely lighting up his room in soft luminescent colors. The sound of Jazz snoring in her sleep just a room over, his parents still milling around in the basement.

he would have just finished fighting the box ghost and collapsed onto his bed, the sound of his home lulling him to sleep.

Oh, how things can change in a blink of an eye.

No, instead of sleeping on his bed with his cartoon ghost sheets and NASA poster covered room, he's out here in some random dirty city, sleeping behind dumpsters.

dirty, grimy, rusty dumpsters.

"did you hear?" some lady dressed in a light blue summer dress asked, turning to look at her friend as they started to walk past. "Mr. Wayne donated another lump sum to that charity." she huffed, shaking her head like she had just said the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard.

her friend stopped in the middle of the alley opening, her graying hair splaying in an ark as she twisted to face the other women. "my word! again? what the hell is that man thinking?"

the woman huffed, then smirked in amusement. "it's like he's shouting for the world to hear how desperate he is for attention. he thinks if he donates enough money to those scoudrails they'll love him or something. With how he's acting lately, it's like he wants all the street rats to barge into his home asking for money, food, and clothes."

her friend clicked her tongue in disgust, "I'd believe it. he has so many kids now, it's like he's running an orphanage. someone, anyone really, with black hair and some tragic story could walk right in and not even be noticed. they'd blend right in with the others."

"I heard it's genetic, his father was the same way before he met Martha. Bruce's blood son, Damian I believe, acts just like his father. the boy's been spotted taking stray cats and dogs inside. It wouldn't surprise me if the paper posted about him convincing his father for another sibling at some point."

the women then turned and started to walk away, their conversation slowly bleeding into the surrounding city ruckus.

Danny leaned back, resting his head against the crumbling brick behind him.

walk right in and not be noticed? wouldn't that be grand. He had heard of Mr. wayne and his gaggle of black-haired children. What were their names again? he could have sworn Sam told him before, in one of her rants about rich society.

Richard Grayson was the first, Danny remembered because Tucker had been making none stop dick jokes for a few hours. Danny didn't understand why the man would willingly go by Dick, but then again, who was he to question someone's name when he fights ghosts like Skulker and Technis on a daily basis?

Next was... Jason? Sam had mentioned there was a whole conspiracy theory of how his death was a cover-up. how all the unsolved crime community swore it was Bruce who killed the kid, that or the kid had some terminal illness that Bruce didn't want the media to know about.

thennnnnn-

Danny glanced around, trying to dig through his memories of Sam's rant. Dick: the orphaned circus act taken in the night his parents died. he's romanie? maybe, Danny wasn't too sure on that one. Jason: taken off the streets, one of his parents was out of the picture and the other one died of a drug overdose.

and then there was..... Tim! Right, Tim, the one who was Mr. Wayne's neighbor before his mother died and his dad went into a coma, then died later on. right, right. he was the known tech genius, the one who took over the company while Mr. Wayne stepped back for a while.

there were others? like, four others? Damian, the lady said he was the blood son sooo, that would imply he was the only bio kid.

who else was there? hmmmm.

well, either way, Danny's tired brain agreed with the women. someone, anyone, who looked vaguely like the other kids could walk right into the house and no one would notice.

it was a bad idea. a terrible one really. but. Danny was hungry.

he's been sleeping behind dumpsters for a few weeks now, he hadn't had anything good to eat in forever, and he was tired. (not as exhausted as he was back home, but still tired. who would have guessed he'd sleep more while homeless?)

he wasn't going to steal from people, his core wouldn't allow him to. and well, he's pretty sure Dan would have stolen already, so there was no way Danny was going to. not unless his life was at risk, and well? it wasn't right now, so no stealing.

but this? walking right into a house and blatantly taking food? right in front of them?

it wouldn't be stealing if he just flat-out didn't try to hide it. they'd be able to stop him and send him away. heck, he doubted he'd even make it past the front gate before they turned him away.

...

was he really going to do this?

...

yes, yes he was.

standing up, Danny started making his way out of the alleyway and over to the tall building with Wayne's name on it. It was a good place to start, maybe he could even find one of the kids and walk with them. or, even better, he could find Mr. Wayne and walk with him. he liked that better than following some kid around.

suddenly, a car honked right next to him, the window rolling down to reveal a tired and disheveled man behind the wheel. glancing up, Danny made eye contact with the taxi driver.

the man yawned and gestured for him to get in, already speaking before Danny could decline. "Mr. Wayne! Your father," yawn, "Father already paid for me to take you home. just hop in."

Danny blinked then glanced around, looking to see if the Wayne the man was talking about was around. nope. turning back, Danny spotted a green sticky note on the back seat.

well, alright then. guess he was getting into the taxi and doing this after all. Clockwork obviously approved if he messed with the timing of things.

Next

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Ghost of You

Logan Howlett/Wolverine x Mutant!Reader ANGST

Summary: After the events of Deadpool and Wolverine, Wade introduces Logan to the Reader. She looks just like his late wife from his Earth. When Logan starts treating her weirdly, she assumes he just doesn’t like her.

A/N: this is just a fun angsty idea I came up with. Love the idea of Logan having a late wife who haunts him everywhere he goes.

~~~

He froze completely in his tracks when he saw you. Standing in Wade’s living room, a bright smile painted on your face.

“Logan this is Y/N. She’s one of my best friends,” Wade introduced you. You extended a hand out to him, “It’s so nice to meet you, Logan.” He scowled as he stared at your hand. Growling and storming off into his own room. You furrowed your brows, looking back at Wade. “Well that was fucking weird,” Wade blinked.

That had been the first time you met. It was months later and things had not improved much. Anytime you were together you could feel Logan’s eyes burning into you. He practically never spoke to you, but could never take his eyes off you. It confused you. Often made things completely awkward and unbearable.

You were all hanging out at a mutual friend’s house out near the lakes. Everyone in your friend group was there. Wade showed up late. You were excited to see Wade until you saw Logan trailing behind him. Heart sinking in your stomach and lump forming in your throat. In your panic, you headed outside to the lit fire pit. Alone away from everyone. You caught your breath.

You liked Logan. Logan when you weren’t around. Watching him from afar trying not to disturb him. Something about you made him uncomfortable. You wanted him to have an easy time adjusting to a whole new place. Trying your hardest to distance yourself anytime he was around so he could be his true self. You felt a sort of connection to Logan. You longed to be around him. Chalking it up to be some sort of crush you had formed.

You stared at your phone. Hearing everyone erupt in laughter together occasionally. Sad that you were having to miss out on the fun, but doing what you thought was right. Debating on leaving, instead of just watching everyone enjoy your absence. You were a people watcher though, it warmed your heart to see everyone inside having a good time.

One of the doors to the patio opened. Catching your attention at the sudden sound. It was Logan. Your eyes dropping down to your phone, trying to ignore him. He joined you at the fire pit, sitting next to you. He stared into the flames not even acknowledging your existence. You were confused why he would come out here with you. Complete silence other than the sounds of the outside world moving around you. Awkwardly shooting a glance over at him. His eyes meeting yours momentarily. Both of you darted your gaze back down.

“You look just like her,” he admitted.

You stiffened your back, trying your best not to look at him. Silence other than the crackling fire in front of you.

“Who?”

“My wife,” he sighed.

And then, everything clicked in your mind. It was not that he didn’t like you, it was that you looked like someone from his past.

“If there was another version of me on this Earth, maybe you’re the version of her for this one. Not that you owe me anything, you just look so much like her. So beautiful,” he trailed off. Embarrassing himself with his confession.

“You— She died on my Earth. Fighting in a war against other mutants. She was the best thing that ever happened to me. I never forgave myself for not being able to protect her,” Logan’s eyes fixated on you.

“Is that why you acted so cold the first time we met?” You quietly questioned.

“It was like seeing a ghost. You look just like her. Sound just like her. Hell, you even wear the same perfume,” his face fell into his hands. You never knew the Logan of your world. Seeing headlines in the news about him from time to time, but never knowing him personally. Yes, you were a mutant, but not a very mutant crossed paths.

“It was like I felt everything all over again. I never meant to be such a prick,” Logan grumbled into his hands. You silently sat as he sulked beside you. Clear distress written on his figure. Unsure of how to help him, wondering if speaking would only make things worse.

“What was she like?” You attempted to break the ice. Praying he would lighten up.

Deep hazel eyes peered at you over top his hands. Slight cock of an eyebrow on his heavy forehead. Sitting up straight and looking up at the sky, Logan sighed, soft chuckle painting his tone. “She was the life of every room she was in. Always cracking jokes, getting everyone else to smile. Kindest girl you’d ever meet. We worked at an academy, all the kids loved her. Looked up to her. Effortlessly beautiful. She could’ve had any guy she wanted, but she chose me. Look where that got her,” he trailed off looking down at the flames in front of him. You swallowed heavy. Unsure what to say back. “You’re a lot like her. Especially to hear everyone talk about you. The way everyone just flocks to you every time you enter a room, I— Wade had told me a lot about you,” Logan looked at you softer than normal.

You felt your face heat up. Not ever having anyone talk about you that way. Not knowing Wade had been gushing about you to his new roommate.

Crickets hummed in the distance, a familiar silence. Logan watched all your friends inside having fun. Smiling. “Everyone in there adores you. I’m sorry I’ve been taking you away from that with my mean mug,” Logan huffed.

“Do you think… I could get to know you,” you asked, doe eyes staring at Logan. His head whipping back to look at you. A face he had fallen in love with some time ago. Sitting right before him, staring back at him. Fluttering the lashes he had grown to love. Locks of hair the color he was used to rolling over and seeing sprawled across the pillow. Looking just as beautiful as the day he last held her in his arms.

“I’d- I’d love that,” Logan smiled at you. You returned his look, feeling a weight fall off your shoulders. Demeanors changing with the new found attitude between you. Deciding the best way to learn more about each other was just to ask outright.

“So, what’s your favorite color?”

“Red.”

Your conversation went on like this for the rest of the night. Chatting even as everyone else left the party. Wade watched with a smile on his face from inside.

~~~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! This was just a quick fun concept I came up with the other day. Hope you enjoyed! If you have any requests, feel free to send them my way, or if you’d like to be tagged in any further Fics, let me know! //

{tags}

@toogaytofunctiondangit ~ @megangovier ~ @castle-of-ruin ~

[dollwrites]

ɪɴ ᴀʟʟ ᴍʏ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍs, ɪ…! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ sᴜɴᴅᴀʏ

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, innocent!reader & manipulative!sunday, religious setting ( confessional ), mildly dark ( suggested mind control and dub con to cnc fantasies ), dub con, humiliation, masturbation ( him! ). all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 ∣ act seven [ masturbation ]

this was the third time.

the third time you’d found yourself sitting here.

the third time within the Cathedral of Morning Dew, perched and squirming uncomfortably in the claustrophobic cubicle, fumbling with your own fingers against the lace details of your skirt as it splayed across your knees— one of them bouncing as a testament to your anxiety and causing your voice to shake.

the third time you were confessing to Sunday.

“I’m sorry,” you feel like you should apologize, so your voice shyly fills the cool air around you. “You must have so many other important matters to tend to—“

“Nonsense.” Sunday replies with an impossibly soft and alluring purr in his gentle baritone. he’s positioned close enough to the lattice partition that he can almost whisper it to you, like a secret for only you to hear. “Penacony’s sons and daughters and their concerns are of utmost importance to me.” though it was meant as reassurance, your cheeks are aflame with embarrassment. to be coddled by a man with as much power as Sunday did make you feel like a helpless child that cries to her father when she’s upset. “Go on, my dear. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

you glance around the cubicle, eyes landing on the candle that endlessly burns beside you, yet no hot wax trickles down on to the pristine floor, nor does heat emit from the flame. even if you blew on it, you doubted that it would go out. as was the whimsicality of the Dreamscape. “It’s these… fantasies again,” you start, timidly bringing up a topic that had been the prompt for you to seek Sunday out every time. gnawing desires for things you knew you couldn’t have— desires for him. “It’s getting harder for me to tell them apart from, well, what’s really happening. The one’s I’ve had recently seem so… immersive.”

Sunday is a quiet for a moment before calmly asking, “Your condition is getting more severe? These fantasies are worrying you?”

“Well, yes.” you answer, choosing your words carefully. “They’re… very…” for all the words there were that could describe what these daydreams about Sunday were ( vulgar, lustful, depraved ), you could force none to breach your lips.

“Naughty?” Sunday offers, and you can almost hear the fond, ghost of a smile that tickles the corners of his lips. it only makes your blush hotter and more furious.

you bite down in your lower lip, rolling it between your teeth as your eyes look towards the latticework. you can only see the outline of his halo, and the glinting of the candlelight as it reflects off the piercings in his wings. squinting slightly, you attempt to make out more details. the softness of his silvery hair, always just so with not a single tendril out of place. the flawlessness of his supple, milky skin, until he turns his head, just a bit, and a glimmering, golden gaze nearly captures yours. with a soft squeak, realizing you’d been staring— wanting, you quickly avert your gaze. “Mhm…!”

you can feel his eyes on you for several more moments, but you can’t bring yourself to look up at him, deciding instead to stare at your bouncing knee.

“And what happens in these naughty, little daydreams of yours?”

a lump forms in your throat, and your mouth goes dry at the prospect of describing to Sunday the way you yearn for him. so, instead of answering right away, you shrink away from the lattice until you no longer feel him gazing at you. the cathedral is eerily silent, and you can hear the flapping of Charmony Dove wings outside. “My dear,” Sunday begins in a calm, patient tone, “you know that you must confess them to me, no matter how deplorable. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here. Now, don’t be shy. You’re safe here with me. You know this, yes?”

you had always felt safe in the warmth of his presence, so you nod again, though you didn’t think he was looking at you anymore. still, you were naive for thinking so. a perfectly gullible, little prey.

Sunday could hear the trepidation in your voice as you began, and he was smiling to himself, imagining the flustered look on your dreamy countenance as you recall how you fantasize about him. with slow, graceful movements, he pinches the very tips of the fingers of one glove, pulling it from his hand. his fingers wiggle once they’re freed from their cloth confinement, which he drapes neatly over his knee.

“In these… dreams, I come to you late at night, when no one else is around…”

“Do you?” he asks, amused, his bare fingers drumming lightly on his thigh silently. “All alone in secret? For what purpose?” he knows why. after all, he’s the culprit behind these eerily realistic fantasies. however, he wants to hear you say it.

“To— um,” you pause, your sheepishness getting the better of you. “Offer myself to you.”

Sunday exhales through his nose to keep a low sound of satisfaction from filling the air, and alerting you to his arousal. hearing how humiliated you are, it tightens the muscles in his lower abdomen, and a tent begins to form in his trousers, which he promptly rubs against his palm. “Oh…?” he asks, almost in a teasing, condescending lilt, murmuring, “In these fantasies of yours, do I accept the offer? Do I take you for myself? Steal your innocence like a wicked thief in the night?” even though his voice remained even, his heart was thumping. his cock jabbed uncomfortably against the fabric of his clothes, and he was busying himself with the task of freeing it.

“Mhm…. Many times,” you answer, and the way your voice breaks, Sunday can practically see your lower lip quivering. it only makes him harder to think about that, and your sparkling eyes welling up with tears. once his cock springs free, standing at attention, he wraps his bare hand around it in a loose fist, and purses his lips together to suppress a grunt. veins throb beneath his skin, the tip twitching as beads of translucent nectar bubbles up from the eager slit. “In many different ways. Sometimes, you— you’re rough with me.”

the tremors that shake your voice when you say this do not go unnoticed by Sunday, who closes his eyes, bringing the fantasy he’d handpicked to implant deep within your mind to the surface of his own. it was one of his favorites, and he was quite pleased that it affected you the most. though his memory wasn’t tampered with, as yours was, and so he couldn’t conjure all the sensations or watch the fantasy like a movie in his mind, he could imagine the sight of you beneath his wandering hands. how they tore at your delicate, little dress. ripping the neckline open to expose your pert breasts for him to grope and squeeze. the way he would imagine you to whimper and wince, perhaps even squirm, and he would have to spare a hand to wrap it around your throat and hold you down— pin you in place so you couldn’t escape him. he would whisper to you that as long as you’re a sweet, obedient darling, he would be gentle. but this was, of course, a lie. the way you would peer up at his figure as he forces his way between your trembling thighs, and the way you would cry out once he finally got his cock inside you, it would be your way of begging him to break you. your mouth could lie, and whine that he was hurting you, or that you want him to be careful with you, but deep down, you wanted him to dominate you. to decimate and own you. he knew this to be fact because he had designed this little dream to convince you of it.

all whilst his imagination ran wild, his thumb runs deftly along his leaking slit, applying enough pressure to milk the swollen, red tip until his precum begins to dribble down the length of his cock, slickening the skin. his palm glides down his needy length, fingers clamping down, until the side of his fist rests against the base, before he slowly drags it back upwards towards the tip, setting a torturously slow tempo for himself. “And in this daydream of yours,” he purrs, only parting his lips wide enough to allow the words to slip through, lest a sound of ecstasy also escape, “You love it when I’m rough with you.” it wasn’t a question. it was a matter of fact. “I can hear it in the way your voice quivers, my dear, you’re ashamed of yourself. Humiliated because, albeit untouched, your little cunt gets so wet when you think about me abusing it.”

“S—Sunday…”

“Mm?” he taunts in a soft voice, as if daring you to challenge the truth. “It’s true, isn’t it? Deplorable, vulgar, and embarrassing to admit, but impossible to deny that you’ve soiled your panties many a time when you imagine how a man like me could use your body all up, and leave you in a state of ruin.”

“Y—yes…” it’s exactly what he’d expected to hear, and yet his core throbs the second he does. he leans back, just enough to brace his back against the wall of his cubicle, and adjust his feet. spreading them further apart. “I—I can't help it…”

“Poor, little thing.” Sunday croons, his slender eyebrows furrowing as he pumps himself harder and faster. “So helpless.” his fist alternates by squeezing and releasing, in the same rhythm that he imagines your virgin pussy would spasm if he was inside, and the sensations were already driving him to the brink. Sunday tilts his head back against the wall, hissing out a soft groan under his breath. part of him even wants you to hear that little sound of pleasure, to realize what he’s doing— getting off on your distress. on your desperate, wanton lust for him. however, if you do hear it, you’re too shy to draw attention to it. too bad, he thinks, if she had only caught me, i would have the innocent, little thing gagging on my cock right here in this booth…

“Wh—what should I do?” your shy question snaps him back to the moment at hand. “About these fantasies. I feel— I feel like they’re only getting more depraved and… scary…”

Sunday has to seal his tiers tightly together, lest a breathy chuckle bubble up from his throat at just how frightened by your own desires ( or, at least, the ones he’s convinced you are yours ) you are. it was cute to him. adorable how eager you are to make these naughty visages go away before they spiral out of control, when that is exactly what he was waiting for. “You needn’t worry, you know this.” he manages to force the words out, even as he stroked himself, coming undone in his own palm to the thought of deceiving you. plucking away the petals of your fragile, little mind until you were compliant and easy enough to do the same deflowering to your body. “I will always be here for you, I will always take care of you.” as he says this, he milks his cock, slowly dragging a tight fist up from the base, coaxing a slowly oozing release from the engorged head. a couple of rogue streamers splatter silently against the floor between his feet, but he pays the mess no mind. instead, he retrieves a handkerchief from his breast pocket and carefully wipes the mess on his lap— cum glazing his bare hand and the length of his shaft, down to where it began to frost his now empty balls, just before reaching the fabric of his trousers. it was unsurprisingly that he looked pristine once he was cleaned and tucked back into his pants. the soiled handkerchief is forgotten on the bench, in exchange for his glove still resting across his knee. he slips it back on before he stands, taking only a moment to smooth his vest and jacket before escaping the now stuffy air of the booth. with a soft knock on the door to your side, he waits for you to come out, too. a gentle smile on his face, and the dusky blush fading into his normal complexion by the time you emerge.

when you open the door, it creaks a bit, and you glance down at the hinges, before looking up to find Sunday incredibly close. the subtle musk from his refined cologne tickling your nostrils, but that wasn’t all. there was another smell that was quite unfamiliar, and yet seemed to spark a low bubble in your belly, but you couldn’t place it. you shrink away from him with a sheepish smile, your back pressing against the door of the booth when he takes a step closer, effectively blocking you from leaving. “Your condition is my concern,” he assures you with a gentle smile, before reaching into his pocket and retrieving a little vial of pinkish, glowing liquid. it was familiar to you— the same elixir he’d given you the last two times you’d come to him. to help with the symptoms, he says.

“Th—thank you, Sunday—“ you whisper, reaching a trembling hand for the vial in his, but what he does next surprises you. grasping your wrist with the other, he presses the vial against your palm and covers your fingers with his, wrapping them tightly, and he leans in with a softer whisper.

“Remember to place a single drop on your tongue. Every. Single. Night.” when you nod, flustered by so much physical contact, he smiles fondly, and releases your hand. “Very good girl.” he appraises, before his right hand falls to rest behind his back, yet his left lingers, creeping up to trace the shape of your mouth. piercing, golden eyes for us on your lips, his own curled into a gentle smile.

“P—please don’t tell anyone… about my condition.” you whisper, your eyes big and hopeful. you didn’t believe he would, but it was something you always needed to plead for before you left.

Sunday chuckles softly at this, and presses a gloved thumb to the seam of your lips, applying pressure until your lips open and it nearly slips inside. “You and I have many secrets together,” he murmurs in reply, before his gaze flits back up to your eyes, locking them into an intense contact that has you shifting back and forth on your feet. “But that is why we must trust one another. Unconditionally. Do you trust me, my dear? Unconditionally?”

[tacticaldiary]

A Fighting Chance

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"When was the last time you kissed me and meant it?" Her voice drops into something akin to defeat.

And Simon...Simon feels like the rug's been pulled from under his feet.

Part 2, Masterlist,

"What're those?"

"Papers."

Ghost pauses halfway through opening the document, glancing up at the curtness of her voice. "Papers? She doesn't meet his eyes, gaze fixed on the table of the little booth they're sitting in.

The ice in her drink is long gone, watering down her coffee into something that tastes as bitter as her heart.

It had taken months for her to finally make this decision. Days of talking with her lawyer, crying alone at night and coming to the gruelling acceptance that this was for the best. It was best for both of them.

There's not many things that unsettle Simon. He's had blood stain his hands; his own, his comrades, and his enemies. Had almost any injury you could think of marring his skin, been prodded and ripped into, been the one on the opposite end of the knife.

But as he slides out the documents, turns them over, Simon's never felt more apprehensive.

He stills, reading the first few lines, clenching his jaw. "What is this?"

"I want a divorce."

And something in him crumbles at her defeated tone. Like she's already decided. Like he doesn't even have a chance to ask why or talk it through.

"No." He says tightly, putting them down and crossing his arms.

Her gaze shoots to his. "You can't just say that."

"I did. I won't sign them."

"I want this." She argues, and Simon swallows back the lump in his throat at how utterly tired she looks.

"I don't."

She's the light of his life, the one good, untouched piece of joy he gets to see. Something other than the bloodshed and violence he lives in.

"Simon," She says, shoulders sagging forward. "I can't do this anymore."

"This isn't the solution, love." He feels like his skin is crawling, the beginnings of unfamiliar panic clawing at his chest when she doesn't react to the pet name.

Doesn't smile, doesn't flush that beautiful red, doesn't squirm.

When she doesn't respond again, tight-lipped and clammed up and so determined to not look at him, he asks the question burning a hole through his tongue.

"Why?"

Deep down he knows. Knew this was coming but that part of him is buried under the thudding of his heart, and the rush of blood in his ears. Everything feels deathly still and moving too fast at the same time.

"Why?" She repeats, something in her stirring at the question. Her brow furrows and she switches from a cautious indifference to disbelief and frustration quicker than Simon can process. "Are you serious?" She huffs out an incredulous laugh. "You're away for months at a time and I'm supposed to what? Wait for you at our doorstep and wag my tail all happy when you finally come back to me?" Her grip tightens on her drink.

"Even when you are home, it's never about us. Never about me and you. You lock yourself in your study with your work, don't talk to me unless you come out for dinner or lunch. When was the last time we went out?" She demands. "When was the last time we went on a date? The last time we slept at the same time in the same bed?"

Simon clenches his jaw but says nothing, at a loss for words. It only encourages her to keep going, spewing thoughts that have been boiling over for the past few years.

"You barely look at me when we're home, I had to drag you out of the house to get here! You left halfway through our anniversary dinner last year because work called you in. Sometimes...sometimes I feel like you're only with me because it's easier than leaving and starting over, and that fucking hurts. It hurts when you can't bear to spend five minutes with me away from work. I've been telling you this for ages but you just...you don't listen to me." She leans forward, drink completely forgotten and hits the final nail in the coffin.

"When was the last time you kissed me and meant it?" Her voice drops into something akin to defeat.

And Simon...Simon feels like the rug's been pulled from under his feet.

"I never even know if you're coming home to me." Her voice cracks, and she hugs her middle, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "So yes, Simon, I want to separate. I'm not happy, not like I was when I met you." A sheen of tears she refuses to let fall.

"You can focus on work like you love to, and I can...I can move on."

It was so good when they started out. She found him endearing, dry humour and brooding and all. It was special, those first few years, and she'll always care about him but this...this waiting, this hurting, laying in bed at night alone and cold and crying...it wasn't right. It wasn't what she wanted and she wouldn't force Simon to want it when he clearly didn't want to.

"Fucking hell, I love you." Simon says quickly, stumbling over what to say. He reaches out for her hand on the table, but she pulls it away before he can grab it. It stings more than he can convey, makes the reality crashes down onto him.

He's about to lose her.

Because he couldn't fucking bear to pull himself out of being 'Ghost'.

It was always a rough couple of weeks during his leave. The adjustment to civilian life was a slow one for him, but that's not really an excuse at all.

"I don't think you do."

Simon blinks at her like she's slapped him. "You...you don't think so?" He repeats, running a hand through his hair. She nods, one nod, quick and so sure that it makes his chest ache.

Fuck. He's absolutely messed up.

"Everything's finalised on my end." She says. "You just need to sign them." Her voice is soft, almost like she's coaxing him.

If there's one thing he knows, it's that he's not touching those fucking papers. He's not losing someone he loves again.

"I'll take time off." He says, the intensity of his gaze makes a shiver run down her spine. "We can work through it, yeah? You can't spring this on me and not give me a chance to protest."

She shakes her head, "You're only taking time off because I'm upset." She tries to explain. "What do you think is going to happen? We spend a month together doing what we used to, and when everything's a little more stable you leave again. Distance yourself. Shut me out. Then we're back to square one."

"Won't happen." He says like he hasn't been doing it for the past few years already. "You...I can't lose you, darling." He leans forward. "Let me make it better. Give me a few months-"

"Simon-"

"A week."

"A week?" Her eyes widen. "A week to...what, prove that you'll change?"

"One week."

She worries her lip between her teeth, considering. One week wasn't a long time, but hope was dangerous in a situation like this.

"I'm not letting you go over something like this." Simon says. "I can't."

"This isn't about you." She crosses her arms. "You really think you can turn just...reverse the past few years in a week?" Maybe it's foolish of her to want him to say yes, to fight for her and realise that she's been hurting, but goddamn doesn't a small part of her scream at him to do it anyway.

"Not trying to reverse it." He folds his arms, and she can see the tense line of his shoulders as he takes in the situation, gears turning in his head as he plans how he's going to work his way out of a situation so precious and daunting as this.

Part of him didn't think it would ever come to this. Yes, he can be cold and aloof but Simon thought she knew that he loved her through it all. No matter what.

When was the last time you kissed me and meant it?

Fuck if that doesn't tear through his chest more painfully than any caliber bullet ever could.

He takes her in quietly for a moment.

The woman he fell in love with. The person that gave him a reason to keep going, a motive to feel anything other than the cold efficientness of loading a gun and firing. Soft touches and warm smiles, something so at odds with the rough life he's used to.

Sitting there in front of him, she looks more beautiful than he remembers, and it only proves to make his stomach sink like a stone at the notion of seeding any doubt about his feelings in her heart.

A right fucking bastard he was for it.

"I'm sorry." He breathes out, much softer than the gruff voice he's been using with her. "I'll do better. Just give me a chance, yeah?"

For one horrible moment, Simon thinks she'll decline. That she'll slide over the papers again and demand he sign them.

But she considers his words for a moment before nodding once.

And it's all he needs.

A fighting chance.

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Part 2

(11/10/2023)

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Not under my roof pt 2

Pt 1

As you entered Tannyhill with red, teary eyes, Ward and rose sat down anxiously waiting.

“Are you okay?” Rose asked concerned.

“I’m-“

“She’s fine. Go to the room and get some sleep. Please.” He looked at you, you just wordlessly dragged yourself to his room.

He sat down with Ward and Rose outside, and Wheezie snuck her way into Rafe’s room, where you were currently putting down all the clothes you grabbed.

You turned back, not expecting to see Wheezie.

“Hey, wheeze.” You told her with a small smile, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Hi.” She sat down next to you, you sniffling and wiping your nose. “Guessing it didn’t go so good?” She asked, making you laugh and shake your head.

“No.”

“I’m sorry. That… that must suck.” She said with a frown on her face.

“It does. But…” you sighed. “I’ll be fine. How’d your dad and rose react?”

“They were mad at first, not at you. But now i think they’re more happy about it. They said ‘at least it was with you and not some random girl.’”

You laughed again, her smiling at the smile you had.

“He stopped hooking up with other girls once he started dating you though. Obviously.” She corrected.

“Would hope so.”

You both sat in a comfortable silence, before she stood up in front of the bed.

“I’m gonna go try to listen in on them.” She said with a smile.

“Let me know what they say.” You whispered to her with a small smile back, she nodded and gently shut the door.

You sighed, falling back onto the bed. You just curled up and fell asleep for hours.

——

“She’s asleep right now.” You heard a whispered voice at the door.

“Well, she needs to eat. She’s been sleeping all day.” You heard another voice say.

Rafe took the plate, mumbling a small thanks and closing the door. He watched as you stirred in the bed, stretching when you sat up. He put the plate on your legs.

“Morning, sunshine.” He said, teasing you and sitting down on the chair he had set up at his desk, turning it to you.

“Hi.” You mumbled sleepily. “What time is it?” You asked him.

“Like… 9.” He shrugged. “Rose brought some food.” He motioned to the plate on your lap. “They also wanna talk to you tomorrow.”

You stared down at it, swallowing the lump that formed in your throat.

“You alright?” He questioned, watching the way your face looked.

He then saw the little tear drops that hit that plate as you continued to stare. He furrowed his eyebrows, getting up and into the bed next to you.

“Hey, what the fucks wrong?” He asked, his hand ghosting over your back. You pressed your face into his shoulder, and he just sat and rubbed your back, still a little confused.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffled when you stopped crying, wiping your eyes and the tears.

“It’s alright, but what the fuck was that for?”

“I don’t know.. probably my hormones or something.” You mumbled. “Its just…”

You started crying again, he sighed and wrapped his arm around you.

“I don’t know, it feels so nice. Your parents are happy, and I can’t get that, I’m never gonna go see them again. I’m never gonna see Kie!” You rambled on. “And they even cooked for me and shit. That’s just… so sweet!” You sobbed, Rafe had a small smile on his face at that last sentence.

“You’re good. You’re fine.” He mumbled, not really knowing how to deal with any of this.

“Hey, listen to me mamas.” He told you quietly, your sobs quieting down.

“I mean, sure they’re pissed now, but they’ll come around when they see him.”

“Who said it was gonna be a him?” You asked him with a nasally laugh.

“Well, whatever it is. They’ll love h- them. And you think my parents weren’t pissed? I told Ward and he was ready to punch me. He wasn’t even mad at you! He fuckin’ adores you.” He said, smiling when you laughed at his words.

“And don’t even get me started on Rose, she went straight to the liquor cabinet. She told me she’s too young to be a grandma. I mean, she married an ancient man, shoulda expected it.”

Once more, you found yourself laughing at him, and his smile grew even wider.

“-And wheeze, oh my god, wheeze, she fucking-“ he started laughing now, covering his mouth, “She told me that she had been waiting forever for this, and she’s just mad it didn’t happen sooner.”

You both laughed together, all your worries slowly disappearing with his words.

“We’re gonna be fine. Promise.” He told you when he laughter died down. “Now can you please eat without slobbering on my bed?” He said in a teasing tone, making you roll your eyes and pick up your fork.

[hisui-dreamer]

he lives in you

Characters: Leona, Floyd, Jamil, Lilia

Synopsis: You shared a night of passion with your lover before you left for the other side of the mirror, but fate's cruel hands strike once again as you realise you have to raise his child alone in your original world. Thankfully, your child is incredibly drawn to magic, and they opened a portal...?

Tags: slight angst, fluffy end because im a sap, fem reader, reader gives birth to a child, reunions, bot proofread

Word count: 2.4k+

Notes: uh i was practicing Japanese and researching Japanese names before writing this, so all my name ideas ended up in japanese? if it makes you uncomfortable, you can imagine that reader is japanese hehe

right in time for mother's day, so here's to a celebration of the motherly figures in our lives, blood related or not, for being there for us<3

Part 2✧Part 3✧Part 4✧Masterlist

A few months passed as you settled back into your routine at home. Eventually, with the noticeable changes in your body, it dawned on you that you were with child—his child, your lover from the other side of the mirror whom you could no longer reach.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turn into months. You had adapted to the trials and tribulations of parenthood. Juggling the responsibilities of work, childcare, and household chores was no easy feat, but you found solace in the small moments of your child's growth and development.

Your child was a true joy to behold, a mirror image of their father in many ways, and you often see the ghost of your past lover in them. Having inherited his magic, your child experimented with their powers, leaving you to support them with what limited knowledge of magic that remained from your NRC days.

On one such experiment, your environment started to shift as a wave of magical energy engulfed you. When you opened your eyes again, he was there, right in front of you—

Hina (日来) with 日 meaning "sun, day" and 来 meaning "coming, future"

Leona reminded you of a shining sun that radiated warmth and light in your life, of how the it would surely shine again no matter how dark the night seemed, and so you named your daughter after that image

your daughter has the clearest emerald eyes and flowing dark brown locks that you often braided in a similar style to her father's

she's very energetic, always curious and asking questions, eager to learn more about the world around her

she's an obedient child, although she's eager to seek your affection and may whine a bit when things don't go her way

if there was one thing that was similar to the Leona you knew, it's that she's extremely clingy and constantly seeks physical affection, hugging your legs and asking for you to carry them any chance she has

and also the fact that she enjoyed her naps a bit too much

her lion ears are a bit of an issue in our world, but you often hide them with hoods, clever hair styling, or simply saying it's a costume

when you told her about the brilliant man her father is, she grew really excited about the possibility of meeting him, and started playing around with magic more to be like the intelligent mage he is

and then it happened, just an ordinary afternoon practicing magic had the two of you transported back to twisted wonderland, face to face to Leona

somehow, he had grown even more handsome in the years you hadn't seen him, but instead of his lazy smile, he looked confident and powerful, like the leader he was always meant to be

A sudden gust of magic swept through the air behind him as he raised his staff in response, only to immediately drop it in shock as your figure came into sight, and beside you, a small child that he had never seen before.

"Herbivore..." he whispered.

Without a second thought, Leona rushed towards you, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He felt a lump forming in his throat as he reached out to embrace you tightly.

"This better not be a dream," he murmured into the crook of your neck as he inhaled your scent. "It's really you."

after a tearful reunion and introduction, Leona quickly excuses himself from his duties with a quick meeting with Falena, and helps you and Hina settle into the palace

since you left, Leona's been working hard to do what he can do as per your promise with him

he's now in charge of foreign affairs and on better terms with his brother after much needed communication

he showers you in affection, he's even clingier than before that it almost starts a rivalry with your daughter

he puts in a lot of effort to spend time with Hina, learning her likes and dislikes and bonding over magic

uncle jack and ruggie are always fun to be around and play with her

though it wasn't his fault, leona feels guilty you had to bare the responsibility on your own for so long, and he puts in a lot of effort to make amends for any mistakes work to build a strong relationship with you two

he has a family now, and you're damn sure he'll protect it with his life

Leona looked down at Hina, feeling a sense of pride and wonder at the little girl standing before him. "Hey there," he said, his voice gentle. "Nice to meet ya, kiddo."

Hina stared at him, her eyes searching his face. "Are you my dad?" she asked, her voice small and uncertain.

Leona's heart ached at the question, knowing that he had missed so much of her life. "Yeah, I'm your dad," he said, reaching out to take her hand.

Hina looked at him for a moment before a smile spread across her face. "Can you show me magic?" she asked, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

Leona felt a sense of joy at her words, feeling a connection with her that he had never felt before. "Of course I can," he said, standing up and taking her hand. "What do you wanna see?"

Sakura (桜) meaning "cherry blossoms"

your daughter has sleek teal hair that reminds you of the sea, a single strand of dark hair, and mismatched eyes in the same manner as Floyd

Floyd had lovingly given you the nickname "Shrimpy", and it only felt right for your daughter to be named Sakura, after the tiny sakura-shrimp

she's incredibly mischievous and there's not a moment of silence with her, she's spontaneous and playful and you've got your hands full

though she is very considerate of you and will listen to your words, she's uncontrollable when she's bored and in need of a spark of interest

she's also a squeezer, much like her father, and hugs you every time she sees you or anyone she likes, and you're thankful her strength hasn't developed too much yet

she enjoys biting you, albeit gently, and you find your arms littered with bite marks, but it's her unique way of showing affection

her eel form won't show unless she's been in the water for too long (thankfully), and she enjoys squeezing you in her eel form even more

ever so curious, she's asked about her father many times, and you've told her how carefree and easygoing her father is, and that he'd love her the moment she saw her

which leads you to her magic actually teleporting you to him, her spontaneous idea having manifested itself, and you found in a dimly lit room similar to the Mostro Lounge

Floyd looked matured, his hair sleeked back and his features sharpened, though his wry smile that you loved had stayed the same

Floyd's eyes widened with shock and disbelief, and his steps quickened as he rushes towards you, his long arms outstretched in a gesture of longing. As he got closer, he noticed the beautiful and curious-looking child standing close to you.

"Shrimpy?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "No way... It's really you!"

Floyd pulled you close, holding you tightly as if he never wanted to let go. "I missed ya so much, I wish I hadn't let ya go," he said, his voice choked with emotion as tears threatened to spill. "You're not allowed to leave again, okay?"

Floyd is so ecstatic he can't stand still, once he's calmed down a bit, be immediately carries Sakura and drags you to Jade and Azul

Azul and Jade are pleasantly surprised at your return, and it's a warm welcome back

the two of them are glad Floyd won't be moping any time soon

the trio have now expanded into a franchise and divulged into many businesses, though Floyd largely acts as Azul's right-hand man

Now that you're back, he refuses to be apart from you, always holding onto you tightly and afraid you might disappear just like how suddenly you appeared

he does get mood swings where he's upset or angry, not at you though, just at how unfair things were and how he couldn't be there for you

he's a good eel who does everything to make sure you and Sakura are happy and comfortable, often cooking meals for you two

he's so curious about Sakura and enjoys playing with her and lifting her high up in the air

don't worry, he's extremely careful, this precious gem is why you got back to him!

Jade is the best uncle and Sakura wants to marry him??? (honestly same)

poor Azul is getting pranked by the daughter- father duo, though Sakura does comfort him afterwards with squeezes and kissss

Floyd looked down at Sakura, and he saw her staring back at him with wide, curious eyes in the opposite colours of his eyes. Though she resembled him physically, there was an air about her that was so distinctly his Shrimpy.

"Heya," Floyd said, trying to sound friendly. "I'm your dad."

Sakura giggled and reached out to him, her tiny hands grasping at his hands. Floyd froze, not sure what to do, letting her yand his hand forward. But then, she opened her mouth and bit down on finger.

"Hey!" Floyd cried, pulling back in surprise.

Sakura just laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Floyd couldn't help but laugh too, despite the pain in his finger.

"Yer a feisty one, aren't ya, Sakura-shrimpy?" he teased, grinning down at her as he ruffled her hair. "You know," he whispered, "you can't just go around biting people like that. But I like your style."

Isami (功己) 功 meaning "achievement, credit, honour, merits" and 己 meaning "self, serpent, snake."

your son has smooth ebony locks and sharp grey eyes that make him look slightly intimidating

Jamil had shown you how much he valued his achievements over his social status, so you chose a name the could embody him

he's a quiet child who's always attentive and careful

he's rather shy in front of other people, but when it's you he'll soak up all of your affection and stare at you with longing eyes seeking praise

he's a cute helper at home too! he always volunteers to help you with chores and cook in the kitchen, though you're careful he's not close to anything sharp or dangerous

he does have an inherent fear of bugs, something he's inherited from Jamil, but thankfully you've taught him to be less destructive than his father

do expect screams and for him to be crying as a little fly chases him around though

he's incredibly smart and talented at magic, easily grasping the concepts of magic you can only teach him theoretically

when you told him about his father, you've told him about the diligent man that his father is, and how would let his guard down around those he treasured

he had listened quietly without much of a change in his expression, but you could tell there was a bubbling excitement building up in his eyes

and no long after that, he managed to teleport the two of you to a warm, airy room of marble walls

Jamil's features had sharpened, he seemed more openly confident and comfortable with himself

Jamil's heart skipped a beat as he saw you. It had been five years since he bid your farewell at the mirror chamber and lost you forever. And yet here you were standing here in front of him with a child in tow, a child who resembled him so much.

"It can't be..." he murmurs.

Without hesitation, Jamil dropped all the papers and rushed towards you, his heart pounding furiously. His eyes locked with yours, and in that moment, time seemed to stand still. He could see the love and longing still shining in your eyes, and he knew deep down that he had never stopped loving you.

Jamil couldn't stop the tears that began streaming down his face. "I've missed you so much," he said, his voice raspy. "Letting you go is the worst decision I've ever made." He reached out and pulling you into a tight embrace, his arms shaking with emotions.

he's a bit overwhelmed but still so thankful you're back in his life

Kalim barges in at this time and exclaims in surprise at your return and ??? OMG JAMIL YOU HAVE A SON?!!

Jamil has half a mind to dissuade him from holding a banquet immediately to welcome you back, and instead take things slow to not overwhelm you or Isami

asks Kalim for some privacy and the second he's away, he melts into your embrace

he hasn't felt so at ease in so long

if he wakes up in the morning and you're not right there beside him, he's panicking and searching all over the place for some confirmation you're still here

he's very curious about Isami and asks him all sorts of questions to piece together his development and personality

they definitely have a rivalry over who's braver over bugs but it just ends up with the two hugging you for safety

he's a bit awkward with how careful he is with his emotions, so it takes Isami some time to fully trust him

but trust me, Jamil will go above and beyond for his family and there's no way Isami will have to endure what Jamil did in his childhood

Jamil's eyes widened in surprise and wonder. He couldn't believe that they had created a life together. He knelt down to the Isami' eye level and looked into his eyes. "Hello there," he said, his voice gentle and warm. "What's your name?"

Isami starred back at him, his eyes wide with distrust and caution before he buried his face in your legs. Jamil chuckled softly. "It's okay," he comforted. "You don't have to be shy around me. I'm your dad."

Isami looked up at him again, this time with a mix of curiosity and wonder. "Daddy?" they said, testing the word out.

Jamil smiled warmly as nodded, his heart swelling with love and joy. "Yes, daddy," he parroted. "And I promise I'm never going to leave you or your mommy again."

Yuri (百合) meaning "lily"

Lilia's name always reminded you for lily flowers, and what better name for your daughter to embody him?

your daughter has straight raven hair with some of the hair flipping upwards resembling two horns, angular fae ears, and bright crimson eyes

she's always up for pranks and mischief, it's rare to see her without a smile

she loves exploring places, if you keep your eyes off her for one second, she's letting her curiosity take her to whatever she wants

if you're serious and stern though, she will listen to you, she wouldn't dare make her mother upset!

she's friendly with everyone and isn't shy to say hi to neighbors or absolute strangers

she's not overly affectionate, but she definitely enjoys hugs and kisses from you

she has an odd habit of taking stray animals back home in an attempt to adopt them, so you have little adventures with her trying to find an owner

do not let her in the kitchen

she has surely inherited her father's cooking abilities, somehow, she can render even a piece of toast beyond human consumption

magic comes as second nature to her, and she's always standing on ceilings

gosh her eyes absolutely sparkled when you told her about the teasing and mischievous fae that is her father

and soon, the portal opened and you found yourself in a gothic castle lit up by green candles

He's a lot taller, his hair longer and reaching his waist, and more enchanting than ever

Lilia stood in shock as your family figure come into sight. In all his years of living, he had never been so utterly stunned. After all these years, you had finally returned to him.

"Beastie..." Lilia gasped, his voice catching in his throat.

With a surge of energy, Lilia broke free from the trance-like state and hurried towards you, his hair streaming behind him like a dark flag as he enveloped you tightly in his embrace. "After all these years, you've truly come back to me?"

Carefully, Lilia held you at arm's length, studying your matured features, etching them into his memory like a cherished work of art. His eyes traced the lines and contours of your face, memorizing every detail that time had etched upon you.

"My, how you've grown," Lilia murmured, a mix of pride and wistfulness coloring his words. "The years have shaped you into a remarkable individual."

it's family reunion time!!!

he immediately drags you to the throne room where malleus, silver and sebek are

malleus is now king with two incredibly reliable bodyguards, and Lilia's his most trusted advisor

malleus is so glad his dear human friend is back, silver is satisfied that his father will have someone to be with, and sebek is screaming about Yuri, though she enjoys his loudness

for a while, Lilia is extremely affectionate, trying to make up for all the years that had gone by

when you're sleeping together at night, he hugs you tightly and it's difficult to leave his embrace

he definitely tries to cook for you two, going on and on about how the two of you need to stay healthy and need lots of nutrients

you always volunteer your portion for Yuri, and she'll gladly eat whatever her father has cooked for her

silver is an older brother often on babysitting duty, and Yuri loves watching him spar with sebek and also wants to learn

Sebek is quite fond of Yuri, and he sees his half-fae self in her

Lilia is always trying to fun with Yuri, bouncing her high up in the air and teaching her to hang upside down and swing around

plans so many family vacations, he can't wait to be exploring places with his two darlings

"Is she... ours?" Lilia asked. At your nod, he reached out to caress Yuri's cheek, his touch gentle as if he were touching fragile porcelain.

"Well, I'll be damned," Lilia chuckled, his voice cracking with emotion. "I never thought I'd be a father again. But I'm glad to meet you, little one. What's your name?"

Yuri giggled and and beamed at his touch. "My name's Yuri," she said, her voice sweet as honey.

"Yuri," Lilia repeated, his heart swelling with emotion. "What a beautiful name for my beautiful girl," he reached up to fondle her hair. "You know, Yuri," Lilia said, his voice growing serious. "I may not have been there for you when you were born, but I promise I'll always be here for you from now on. No matter what happens, I'm your father, and I'll always love you darling."

Part 2✧Part 3✧Part 4✧Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[phoward89]

Banner by me. Dividers by @saradika

Summary: You're the winner of the First Quarter Quell and you awaken in the hospital to Head Gamemaker Coriolanus Snow at your bedside.

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: Coriolanus Snow is his own warning! Possessive!Coriolanus, Obsessive!Coriolanus, DelusionalCoriolanus, Dark!Coriolanus, Soft Dark!Coriolanus?, Head Gamemaker!Coriolanus, Mentions of death, Mentions of planning murder, Mentions of cheating/infidelity (not on reader), Mentions of poison, Large age gap/difference (Coriolanus is 33 while reader is 18), Manipulation, um...trying to think of anything else.

Story Masterlist

Chapter 1:

When the Head Gamemaker’s baritone blared out overhead, naming you the victor of the First Quarter Quell, you literally collapsed into a heap on the blood soaked ground from a mix of exhaustion and happiness. Your eyelids drooped and the last thing you saw before you passed out was a pair of peacekeepers coming towards you.

When you woke up, you were in a sterile white room. A hospital room. You had drips and IVs connected to you along with some monitor that made beeping noises. Blinking to readjust your eyes to the brightness of the artificial light, you surveyed the room only to notice that sitting in a chair right next to your bed was none other then the head gamemaker himself. Coriolanus Snow.

“What are you doing here, Head Gamemaker Snow?” You curiously asked. Surely he had better things to do then be at your bedside. Like being home with his wife. Oh and you knew he was married because 1.) He was wearing a gold band on his ring finger and 2.) You've seen a dirty blonde woman his age on his arm in a few pictures of Victor's balls and such in the cheap Capitol rag mags that get circulated around District 12 to be used as tp by the poor and destitute. 

Staring you down with his icy blue eyes, he said, “I'm making sure that District 12’s first victor in 15 years survives.”

His words made a shiver run up your spine. It was common knowledge that District 12’s first and only victor (until now) had mysteriously vanished into thin air a few months after winning her games and returning home. Nobody dared talk about her. Her name was lost to the wind; she was a ghost that nobody paid any mind too. The fact that the head gamemaker wanted to make sure that you didn't die unnerved you. 

Surely you weren't in that bad of shape, were you? Swallowing a lump in your dry throat, you croaked out, “How bad of shape am I in, Head Gamemaker Snow?”

“Please, darling, call me Coriolanus or Coryo, if you'd like.” The platinum blonde, who looked a bit sleep deprived in his wrinkled button up (as if he'd slept in it) told you. “I insist.” He smiled. 

Him calling you darling and insisting that you call him Coriolanus or Coryo made your insides churn. It wasn't right. Why would he be so informal with you. He was the head gamemaker, a 33-year-old man from the Capitol, and you were just a victor, an 18-year-old girl from District 12. You two shouldn't be informal with each other.

“Oh, where are my manners? You must be thirsty. Let me get you some water.” Corio- no Head Gamemaker Snow lightly chastised himself while rising from his chair.

Crossing the room to a counter where a tray with a pitcher and glass were, he explained, “When the peacekeepers pulled you out of the arena you had collapsed from dehydration.” Pouring you a glass of water, he further explained, “Your vitals were very low and, in fact, you died once on your way here, but the medics brought you back.”

“What the hell? I died?...” You gasped, struggling to comprehend what you just heard. 

Head Gamemaker Snow appeared by your side and placed the water glass into your hand. A hand much smaller and weaker than his large calloused one. “Yea, but you were revived.” Sitting on the edge of your bed, causing it to dip, he motioned for you to drink. “I must have my Victor alive and well, so that's why I've been keeping watch over you, Y/N.”

His words should've made you see a red flag waving in the air, but it didn't. Maybe you were too young and naive to catch onto the true meaning of his words. Maybe they went right over your head because you were still weak, or maybe since you had a stalker back in 12 that you had convinced yourself was just a weird neighbor boy you didn't realize the true possessive meaning of Coriolanus’ words.

“Are you going to stay here now that I'm awake or?...”

“Unfortunately, I have to leave you here and go home.” He pouted. What the hell, he actually pouted? You had to admit that his plush lips looked very kissable when he pouted. Petting your hair, he gave you a reassuring smile. “Don't worry, darling, I've made sure that you'll be well taken care of by the best nurses that money can buy in the Capitol.”

What he didn't tell you was that he threatened the lives of the nursing staff’s loved ones if you so much as had a hair out of place. That was something you didn't need to know. Just like you didn't need to know that when he first laid eyes on you, in your best cotton floral dress; your hair pulled back with a ribbon for Reaping Day, he found you the most beautiful creature he'd ever laid eyes on and just had to claim you as his. Reason why, as the head gamemaker, he might or might not have screwed around with other tributes’ sponsor gifts and made sure you got a few things here and there that would ensure your survival. You had an innocence to you that he had the primal urge to consume. An innocence that was absent in the Capitol. An innocence and a beauty that he carved to have all to himself.

You just being you consumed him with a passionate obsession. One that he would act on soon. Very, very soon. He just needed to take care of his wife, Livia, so that he'd be free to make you his forever. But that wouldn't be hard, considering he was a master at making people drop dead from sudden food poisoning. 

Pressing a kiss to your hair, Corio- no Head Gamemaker Snow, promised, “I'll be back in the morning to check up on you before I'm needed at the Citadel.”

“You have to wrap up the game stuff don't you, Head Gamemaker Snow?” You asked, even though you were sure he'd say yes. In fact you didn't even know why you asked that. Maybe as a replacement for goodbye since you hated that word. 

Last time you said goodbye to somebody it was your mother and she took off with some officer, leaving you with your older half-brother Rein to take care of you both. He was 15 at the time and you were 5. Safe to say, you never used the word goodbye again in your life. 

“I told you, call me Coriolanus or Coryo.” He reminded you, not liking that you were still calling him by his title. “Yes, my darling rose, I must make sure that all the paperwork is in proper order for your prize money and the construction of your house in Victor's Village.” The platinum blonde man, who you just noticed has bags under his eyes, tiredly told you before pressing another kiss to your hair. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, he said, “You need to be a good girl and rest for me.”

You blinked at him. What? Be a good girl? And rest for him? Say what? Your brain was short circuiting at his words. Not just his words, but the way his baritone was both dominant and soft as he spoke them.

Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he simply said, “We'll talk more tomorrow. I promise.”

“Okay.” You nodded numbly, unable to comprehend what the hell was happening. You went like your head was spinning, as if you had too much moonshine. Hell, what had your time in the arena done to you?

Coriolanus gave you a pleased smile before rising from his spot on your bed and walking out of your room; making sure to close the door behind him. It was only after he was gone that you realized you were in a private room.

Coriolanus was fucking exhausted when he got home. He could barely keep his eyes open as he stepped out of his black sedan. After you were admitted to the hospital, he dismissed his driver and drove himself there. He didn't want the man to be waiting around on him while he stayed steadfast at your bedside, plus he was more than capable of driving himself home once he saw you open your beautiful eyes. What he wasn't expecting was for you to be asleep for over 24-hours. 

So, sleep deprived, Coriolanus walked into the townhouse he shared with his wife, Livia. The townhouse was a gift he received from Strabo and Ma Plinth once he announced his engagement, but he planned on putting it up on the market once he took care of Livia. He didn't want to bring you to this house that held nothing but hatred and misery in it.

No, he was going to bring you to his penthouse on the Corso. Now that's a proper place for you to live with him. In fact, he'd be telling you about your new residence tomorrow morning during your visit. Oh, he was so excited to tell you that you'd be staying in the Capitol with him. Of course, he'd use the excuse that since District 12 doesn't have a Victor’s Village and it must be constructed that he's arranged for you to use his Corso penthouse during the construction period.

It was a great plan. One that was foolproof. He just knew that you, being so young and innocent, would view his offer as one of help instead of one of ownership. Or, dare he say, love? Yes, love. He was sure that he was obsessively in love with you. It was a feeling he swore to never feel again, but yet again one just can't help who they fall in love with.

He always thought that marrying for hate instead of love or even tolerability would give him power, but truthfully all it gave him was a headache and a bad case of blueballs. Livia was a heinous bitch and was a cold fish in bed. She didn't like to fuck. What the fuck? Who doesn't like to fuck? Coriolanus thought that was absurd, unnatural even.

That's why he had to have affairs here and there; then turn the whores into avoxes to keep their mouths shut when he was done with them. What? He was a man after all and had needs. Needs that he knew you'd fulfill without any problems. With you he'd be faithful because you'd be his mind, body, and soul and would do anything for his love since you were so young. All he had to do was show you how in love *cough* obsessed *cough* he was with you and you'd be his forever.

Unknown to Coriolanus, the object of his marital hatred (Livia) was having an ongoing affair with one of the male avoxes in their household. An avox that had once been an equal of theirs in the Academy and the University, but crossed Snow the wrong way with a question about the songbird from 12. 

Coriolanus wasn't even to the stairs yet when he heard Livia’s screeching coming from the front sitting room. Great…seems like the bitch was waiting up for him. 

“Coriolanus, where have you been? The games ended and you never came home!” Livia demanded in a high pitch scream as her fuzzy heeled skippers clicked loudly against the hardwood floor as she ran out of the sitting room and into the main hall.

“Don't worry about where I was, Livia.” Coriolanus venomously gritted out as he made his way to the staircase.

“You're my husband, Coriolanus. I'm supposed to worry about where you've been.” Livia shrieked while following her husband. 

“I'm your husband when I don't come home, but when I'm home we have separate bedrooms and you come up with every excuse under the sun not to fuck me.” Coriolanus spat back as he tiredly trudged upstairs, feeling a migraine coming on from his wife's nagging. Oh, how he needed to poison that bitch yesterday.

“Your tastes in bed are not the same as mine, husband.” Livia said, placing special emphasis on the word husband, while following him upstairs. “You're too harsh for my taste, but that doesn't mean you can stay out for days on end with some whore.” 

All Coriolanus could see was red, like a raging bull, after hearing her remark. How dare she insult his prowess in bed? He knew how to fuck a woman and how to fuck her good; he never had any complaints either until he tied the knot with Livia. Damn bitch, won't fuck him and then insults his ability to fuck. Oh, yes, it was time for her to go. 

She outlived her usefulness. Livia couldn't give him the one thing he most desperately needed. An heir. What use did Coriolanus have for a woman that refuses to have his child? After a decade of hell with his wife, he was ready to cut his losses. He had control of her family's bank and the Plinths fortune, plus his status as Head Gamemaker and Senator along with his position on the War Council was more then enough to make him a successful candidate for president once the elder President Ravenstill kicked the bucket. He didn't need her for an heir anymore, not when he had you (you were young and fertile enough to give him litters of heirs).

Oh, Coriolanus knew exactly how to make up for never coming home after the games ended with Livia. Oh, yes, he did. 

“The victor, Y/N, from 12 was in bad shape and I had extra paperwork to do.” He smoothly lied to his dirty blonde wife as he set foot onto the second floor of his townhouse. Turning to look at her, he gave her a fake smile full of fake sympathy and offered, “How about I take you out to your favorite restaurant for dinner? The one that has that red wine you can't get enough of.”

“Yes, I accept your apology and dinner invitation. Just don't do this to me again, Coriolanus. We might hate each other, but I'm still your wife and deserve respect.” Livia told Coriolanus before taking off to her room, her robe billowing behind her.

Coriolanus smiled wickedly as he retired to his room. Oh, after tomorrow night he'd never have to deal with Livia ever again. He'd be free to have you all to himself, forever and always.

You were walking in the plains, tall prairie grass blowing in the wind. The deeper you walked in it, the more dread you felt. You couldn't describe the feeling, but you just knew that something was wrong. Then, suddenly, you heard a crunching sound behind you. Turning around, you saw the last tribute, a girl from 2, with a knife in her hand running towards you. 

You were exhausted and thirsty. The water you had been gifted from a sponsor had run out nearly a day ago, so you were feeling the effects of dehydration. You didn't know if you either didn't have a lot of sponsors or weren't getting any more water bottles because a water source was nearby somewhere, but you did know that it sucked you were dying of thirst.

But your thirst didn't matter now. Surviving the girl from District 2 did and you knew you wouldn't be able to fight her in the tall grasses. So you ran. You ran as hard and fast as your lightheaded feet would carry you.

It didn't take long until you were out of the tall grasses and on a barren field of cracked soil. You had a small pocket knife that was gifted to you, something you were sure cost a hefty penny since sponsor weapons were always pricey according to Lucky Flickerman’s game commentary.

Flipping the switchblade open, you turned around and headed straight towards the girl that had tripped and fell at the edge of the plains grasses and the dry bed of field soil. Lifting up your knife, you made to plunge it into her, only for her to look up at you with a sinister smirk and plunge her knife right into your neck.

Your eyes flew open as you screamed bloody murder. You died! You had died in your nightmare instead of being victorious. That nightmare shook you to your core. It frightened you so much that you screamed yourself hoarse, until your vocal cords were stripped. You were so frightened that you huddled in the corner of your room in a fetal position.

Nurses and other hospital staff tried to tend to you; get you out of the corner, but you just struggled and fought with them. You couldn't let them near you. What if they wanted to kill you? What if they hurt you? Your dream had shaken you up so bad that you weren't quite with it yet. You weren't in reality, you were stuck in your own head and afraid that somebody or something was going to get you. You were scared out of your wits. You were so scared that you cried. You weren't aware that you were crying, but the tear stains marred your hollowed cheeks like scars.

Coriolanus had only been asleep for an hour or so whenever he was awakened by a call from Capitol General Hospital. What the charge nurse told him made his heart clutch painfully. His victor, his darling rose, woke up terrified out of her mind and curled herself into a corner, screaming and crying her head off.

“She's having a nightmare about her time in the arena. Aren't you giving her anything to calm her down?” Coriolanus asked the nurse  he was on the phone with as he sat up in bed, flipping on his bedside lamp to softly illuminate his pitch black room in a golden glow of light.

“She won't let anyone near her and you did say to call you with any updates on her condition, sir “ The nurse hesitantly told him.

“I’ll be right there to sign her out since your hospital staff are incompetent and can't properly take care of a victor.” He told the nurse before hanging up on her.

It only took a few minutes for Coriolanus to dress and rush to the hospital. Despite being exhausted, you needed him and he wasn't going to let you down. You were his and he was going to take good care of you. He always took good care of his things. He did like his things to be perfect and if they weren't then he'd make sure that his favorite things were mended until they were perfect. You were his and he'd make sure that he made you perfect once more. Perfect for him, to be by his side as not just his Victor, but as his First Lady. His darling rose.

Dressed simply in a fitted white shirt and black pants, Coriolanus ran up the stairs to your floor and rushed into your room. The site of you curled up, tear tracks staining your cheeks, wide-eyed and afraid pulled at what little heartstrings were in his too small blackened heart. You looked like a wounded animal and he hates it. You were his victor, his darling rose, his future First Lady and he wanted you to recover your senses so that you could regain your strength; be all that he knew you were to him.

He slowly approached you with his hands out in a show of peace. “It's me, my darling rose. It's Coryo.” Coriolanus softy told you in an attempt to let him near you.

Your eyes blinked at hearing his nickname and for some reason you nodded at him. As he crouched down next to you, placing a tentative hand on your shoulder, you clutched the middle of his pristine white shit and sobbed, “I died, Coryo. I dreamed that I died instead of her.”

Your words gutted him. A world without you was no world at all. Wrapping his arms around you: letting you bury your head in his chest, he strokes your hair while offering you the comforting words of, “Oh, my darling, you're alive. You're alive and I won't let anything bad ever happen to you again, Y/N.” You shook in his arms, causing him to simply ask, “You hear me, my darling rose?”

“Mhm…” You mumbled out, too afraid to talk for fear that you'd start crying again. 

“Shh…” Coriolanus shushed you like one would do a small, frightened child. “I'm here. Your Coryo’s here and you're safe. You'll always be safe with me, darling.”

If you were of sound mind instead of scared out of it (from the horrors he designed and put into the damn games) you would've ran far far away from Coriolanus. But, sadly, you were too scared and on the verge of a mental breakdown to understand how twisted the man holding you really was. How obsessessive he was; how wrong letting him hold you was. No, you were too afraid to realize that you were letting the creator of your nightmares comfort you.

Once your sobs subsided and you quieted down, Coriolanus pulled back from you so that he could tilt your chin up in order to have your eyes on his. “I was going to wait til morning to tell you this, but you’ll be staying in a luxurious penthouse while the Victor’s Village is constructed in your district.”

You nodded, only to squeakily ask, “How long am I staying here?”

“Oh, just long enough to build your victor's house. I suppose it'll be done by time your victory tour rolls around; maybe even sooner.” He smoothly lied. He had no intentions whatsoever to let you go back to District 12. You deserved more then the mud and poverty stained streets of the coal district. You deserved to be bathed in rose scented oils and salts, dressed in the finest fashions, fed the best foods, and fucked on the best silk sheets that his money could buy. 

“Okay.” You nodded, naively believing the lies of the head gamemaker. 

“How about we get you out of here and over to the penthouse? Hmm? I'll even call Tigris to come over and spend the day with you, how'd you like that?”

“I like Tigris. She’s nice and was my stylist. Always talked to me like she cared.”

Coriolanus knew that his cousin was your stylist. He's the one that assigned her to you after all. But neither you nor her needed to know that. No…. It wasn't important. What was important was that you two got along, especially since in a short while you'll be family.

“Tigris is my cousin; I'm glad to hear that you like her.” Coriolanus told you while helping you to stand up. “And she does care about you, Y/N.” He told you while leading you over to your bed. “Never forget that the Snows care about you. And that snow lands on top.” He whispered into your ear while helping you sit on your bed. 

You just blinked at him, trying to process what he meant. You were so tired and mentally weak from your nightmare that you had no idea that his remark was one of possession. Your throat hurts from all the crying and screaming that you did, so you weren't thinking straight. Infact, your throat hurts so much that you grab the glass of water from your bedside table, quickly gulping it down.

“Be careful, you don't want to make yourself sick.” Coriolanus warned, much like a parent would to a child, while snatching the glass away from you.

“My throat’s dry and hurts. I need water.” You said in a pained whisper, side eying the glass in Coriolanus’ hand.

“Yes, well, that tends to happen when you scream and cry yourself hoarse.” He stated a bit coldly before lifting the glass to your lips and ordering, “Be a good girl and take small sips for me.”

You obeyed since your throat was aching. The small sips of the cool water seemed to soothe your damaged throat just enough to keep your mind off the pain. When Coriolanus felt you had enough to drink, he put the glass down on your side table. 

Petting your hair, he said, “I need to go sign you out at the front desk, but I'll be back soon to take you with me to the penthouse. Where you'll be safe.”

“Thank you.” You weakly smiled at the man that was now both your salvation and your damnation.

If only you knew what life awaited for you at that penthouse. Would you still be thanking him if you did?

Tags: @kuroosbby001, @purriteen, @poppyflower-22, @meetmeatyourworst, @whipwhoops,

@bxtchopolis, @readingthingsonhere,

@savagenctzen, @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer, @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur

@squidscottjeans

[sideeve]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀LITTLE MISS PERFECT

synopsis : getting homosexual tendencies for her best friend? absolutely not!

note : i just started playing tlou2 again and my love for abby and ellie blossomed again. naughty dog knew what they were doing

ft. : questioning homosexuality, internalized homophobia, non-apocalyptic au, implied smut but not that descriptive, ellie already has a crush on reader but it’s not really described until they kiss and what not.

you search through the rack of bras, lazily looking for one that at least looks fitting. you huff, starting to lose hope. your hands stop at one. a black lacy one, which if your wore, would cover nothing. it reminded you of that erotic video you found went internet surfing.

two women alone together, exploring each other’s bodies. their tongues acting like a paintbrush and their bodies were canvases, covered in saliva.

you press your lips together, trying to push down the tingling in your body. you can’t be gay. you literally have a crush on that ABC news host.

“[name], honey? did you find one yet?” your mother asks, messing with the displayed jewelry. “no, there’s nothing here.” you sigh, hiding the bra in the rack.

you had no problem with homosexuality. hell, your whole search history is the complete opposite of heterosexuality. your best friend is a lesbian. but there is no way you’re gay. that’s…just not you.

after many of those “are you gay” tests, your answers remain the same. ‘you’re most definitely a lesbian, babes’.

you lay on ellie’s bed, blindly flipping through one of her many comic books. you blow raspberry, getting bored a little. “what?” she diverts her eyes from her TV for a second before tending back to her game.

“nothing.” you flip a few more pages until your eyes land on a certain panel. two girls in close proximity, lips ghosting over each other. you swallow a large lump, trying to push away the thoughts again.

but now you can only think of you in that situation. curled up next to a girl, her hand rubbing softly on your waist.

you try to picture what she would look like, only seeing your best friend’s face. you groan, rolling on your back.

“ellie?” she hums in response. you fiddle with your thumbs before asking the question. “how did you know you were gay?”

her game pauses. “what?” she looks at you before her eyes travels to her opened comic book. “ooooh.” she laughs, picking up the book. “you picked the one i didn’t want you to get.” she closes the book, stuffing it under her bed.

she leans back, propping herself up with her arms. “ i dunno. i just…” she shrugs, “never pictured myself with a guy. and you know, boobies.”

you softly hit her, making her laugh. “i’m serious, ellie. i think i might be gay. lesbian, bi-i don’t know!” you groan, stuffing your face in your hands.

“i mean, why don’t you?” she lays on her side, looking at you. “that ABC news host.”

“David Muir?”

you nod, making her scoff. “do you have a crush on any guy at job?” she twirls a strand of your hair in her fingers. “god no. they all look like troglodytes.” you grimace at the thought of liking them.

“can you picture yourself marrying a man for the rest of your life?”

that question made your stomach drop. you feel bile pile up in your throat. ‘yes, you can’ you try to convince yourself.

“no, i guess not.” you give a slight frown at your answer, looking down.

“hey, it’s normal. not everyone is straight. and you sure aren’t.” she laughs. “oh shut it!” you huff.

she stops laughing after a while. “well, let’s kiss to see if you are gay.” she suggest so nonchalantly. kiss? your best friend?

“uhhhh..” “if you don’t like it, we don’t have to ever talk about it.”

you look at her, contemplating whether you should go through with this. you couldn’t deny that ellie was very attractive. you could say that she was your “gay awakening”. they way she was naturally flirty with you was the beginning of the questioning phase for you.

“let’s do it.” you sit on your legs, waiting for her to kiss you.

she gives you a soft smile, getting up.

“you sure?” she questions, not wanting this to go wrong. you nod.

she takes a deep breath, putting her hand on your cheek to pull you in.

your skin ignites. this is what you’ve dreamed of. intimacy with a woman. natural intimacy. not like those forced erotic videos you watch in your free time.

her lips press on yours, her eyelashes tickling the apple of your cheek. you reciprocate the affection, putting a hand on her cheek.

a moan slips from your lips, your eyes fluttering shut. the hand on your cheek falls to your hips, her hand squeezing for a few moments to tell her that this is real; this is actually happening.

in a flurry, her body is pressed on top of yours, her tongue exploring every crevice on your mouth. her hands slipped under the hem of your jeans, fingers brushing over the seat of your panties.

you card your hands through her auburn hair. “els…” you call to her as she pulls away, a string of saliva connecting from hers and your bottom lip.

“you okay, princess?” she moves her hand at an angle, her thumb drawing tight circles on the pearl of your cunt. you arch into her, making her chuckle.

you nod, a moan slipping from your lips again.

“yeah, you’re definitely gay.” she giggles, stuffing her face in the crook of your neck, making you laugh too. “shut up and use your hands, ellie.”

“oh, i know something better than my hands.” she leaves your neck for a moment, digging under her bed.

she pulls out a harness. one not built for your shoulders. the purpose accessory catches your eye, making you widen them. “is that…”

“i haven’t used it yet.” she smirks. “your call.”

do you have enough red orbs? stop by my store to request a fic!

[notsunnyowo]

The love of my life

Word count: 833

Summary: You can't live in a world without Satoru, but if he's forced to live in a world without you, you hope that he can still live his best life.

Content: Death, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Slight canon divergence, Satoru Gojo x Female! Reader (AFAB)

If you die. I die.

You looked at your classmate, a look of pure admiration etched on your face as a delicate smile danced along your features. The sound of your laughter filled the classroom as you chuckled at some funny joke Satoru had said just now.

The four of you were layzing around in your classroom, waiting for Yaga-sensei to come and tell you about your respective missions for the day. And Gojo being Gojo decided the best way to pass the time was to goof around a bit. Cracking dumb jokes, one after the other, face lighting up each time he heard your melodic laugh.

But if I die.

Satoru stood in front of your lifeless body, his face as pale as a ghost and his pristine eyes filled with unshed tears. He didn't want to stare at the horrid sight of your blood covered body, yet he couldn't bring himself to look away either.

No.. This wasn't real.. It couldn't be..

He felt a lump forming in his throat as he stood there, completely motionless.

This was just some sick joke right..? Yeah..! Any moment now, you were going to get up and chuckle at his stupidity for believing that you had actually died..

Right..?

Get enough sleep.

Satoru laid in his expensive armchair. His blindfold loosely covering his eyes as he slept, his arms folded neatly in front of his broad chest that rose and fell with each and every slow breath he took.

His breathing wavered for a moment, as the large man shifted in his seat, before slowly sitting up. His head turned to the side of his chair as his back hunched slightly and he leaned down to the side to grab something.

A small paper bag he had set down on the floor.

Eat properly.

Satoru picked the bag up into his large hands and set it down on his lap before opening it and taking out a small box filled with his favorite flavor of mochi.

Taking out a single piece, he opened his mouth and took a bite of it, his jaw moving in a circular motion as he chewed the sweet treat. It's sweet and savory essence filling his mouth and coating his taste buds.

Meet new people.

Satoru's ears perked up as he glanced in the general direction of the door in his office, just in time to see it swing open and his students barge in. Happy smiles etched on all their faces.

"Gojo-sensei!" Yuuji called out, raising a hand to his teacher and giving him a big, cheerful grin.

"Why is it that you've called all of us here for?" Megumi grumbled, looking at the blindfolded man with a slight look of annoyance.

"Are we going on another mission?" Kugisaki asked, as she spun her hammer around in-between her fingers.

Live a happy life.

Satoru smiled as he looked at his students, before finally speaking up. "Just wanted to share some mochi with my precious students." He said, his voice low, yet gentle.

The offer caused a set of confused glances to be thrown his way from his students.

"You really called us here, just so we could eat some mochi?" Megumi inquired, raising a brow.

"Seems about right." Kugisaki took the liberty of answering the dark haired boy.

"Why are you saying that like it's a bad thing?" Yuuji looked at the two of them, clearly not bothered by the fact that they all rushed to their sensei's call, just for it to turn out to be him wanting some company. "It's free food! And delicious food at that!" The boy grinned, eagerly taking a mochi for himself.

And when you think of me occasionally.

"Hey, Gojo-sensei.." Satoru let out a low hum, in response to Itadori's question. "Who's this girl with you in the photo?" He asked, pointing a curious finger to the small picture frame set on his teacher's desk.

Satoru looked over to the frame and smiled gently. "She was my classmate back in high school." He said, his voice filled with melancholy.

With gentle motions, he reached for the picture frame and took it in his hands, looking at it as if it were the most precious item he owned.

Remember that..

"She was also the first girl I ever fell in love with." He added, although barely loud enough for his students to hear. "The only person I ever fell in love with." He smiled fondly at the photo, his thumb gently brushing over the girl's face in the picture.

"How come you've never mentioned her before?" Megumi found himself asking, his interest now peaked. He walked over to the Yuuji and glanced down at the photo.

"Whoa, she's so pretty..!" Nobara interrupted, stepping in-between her two classmates to get a better look at the photo.

I will love you.

"Yeah, she is, isn't she?" Satoru spoke, looking at the photo with a gentle adoration. "The prettiest girl I've ever seen.."

For eternity.

Author Note:

I'm back and totally NOT dead! (Just lazy) But I wanna get back to writing again and good lord do I have a lot of requests!

Thank you all sooo much for sending so many requests, I really hope I'll be able to give y'all what you're looking for!

Requested to be tagged: @21aurora

[ragingbookdragon]

She feels the warmth flooding down the front of her gear as the frigidness seems to crawl up from her fingers and toes. Her breathing labors as the man pulls her inside the crumbling building under the veil of night and cradles her against his body, her back pressed against his chest. His fingers find their way underneath her vest, and she knows she should feel pain where his fingers press against, but all she feels is a numbness.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mutters.

“Ghost,” she whispers breathlessly. “I’m scar—I’m scared, Ghost.”

He shakes his head a single time. “You’re gonna be fine.”

“I don’t wanna die,” she says more to herself than to him, panic setting in. “God, I don’t wanna die now. I don’t wanna—”

“You’re not dying,” Ghost growls. “You’re gonna be fine.”

“Ghost—”

“You’re gonna be fine. I’m gonna fix this. I’ll fucking fix—”

“Simon,” she stresses, shifting enough to see his face from the corner of her eye. “I’m dying.”

He swallows thickly and gazes at her for a moment before the lump returns. “Fuck, I—I’m not ready.”

“Neither am I,” she smiles, blood staining her teeth, and leans back, her temple to his chin. “Will you…will you stay with me?”

Simon presses harder against her, cursing the tears that sting his eyes. “Yeah, love, I’ll stay.”

She settles then, flightiness stilling in her veins as she relaxes against him. “This isn’t how I imagined going.”

He doesn’t want to ask. Doesn’t want to hear all the fanciful bullshit she’s about to spew about how they grow old and gray, but Simon also knows he’d rather hear her voice all he can before he can never hear it again unless it’s through a speaker.

“How’d you imagine it?” he forces his throat to open.

Her smile is like the stars in the night sky. “Old. In bed together. In our sleep.” She shuffles a bit. “Our kids find us, cuddled close, safe.”

Simon grits his teeth, cracking them under the strain, his jaw aches. “How many kids?”

“Two boys. One girl. Simon Junior, we’d call him SJ. Jonathan Kyle, after Price, Soap, and Gaz.”

“And the girl?”

“Aphra Emeline.”

He nods. “Good name. Strong. Built for a fancy lady.”

“She’d run everyone over.”

“With your looks and my attitude?” he jokes. “Of course. She’d strike ‘em dead with one withering look.”

Her lungs are starting to fail her, and she shivers. “Simon, marry me.”

He can’t stop the tears this time and they drop down his cheeks onto her head. “Who’s gonna officiate?”

“Me. All power vested in me.” She sucks in a breath. “Do you take me as your lawfully wedded wife? To love, honor, and cherish, through sickness and health, until death do us part?”

“I do,” he promises. “And even after life, I will.”

“I take the same. I now pronounce us husband and wife.” She turns with the last bit of failing strength she has, pulls his mask down, and says, “Kiss me.”

Simon’s calloused hands are gentle as he cups her face, brushes his thumb over her cool skin and presses his lips to hers, tears mixing on each other’s faces as he kisses her with everything, he has in him. All the things Ghost is not, he gives in this moment to her. All his hopes, all his dreams, all his love for a better ending. He gives it up in this moment as he burns it into his mind that Simon Riley will never live after—only Ghost.

“I love you, Simon,” she whispers against his lips, and he shakes his head.

“I love you too,” he manages between hers. “I’ll stay,” he promises, pulling away to press his forehead to hers, staring at her. “I will stay.”

“I know,” she says. “I know you will.”

He memorizes the color of her eyes, the shape of her nose, the feel of her skin beneath his hands, every detail he can about her, and it’s only when her head tilts forward, forehead bumping his lips that he knows.

Simon inhales and exhales one time, a single, agonizing howl.

[sepublic]

            I find it interesting that even in the epilogue, four years after Camila has had time to be more acquainted with the Boiling Isles under non-threatening circumstances, she’s still creeped out by it. And this is fine! The narrative isn’t condemning her for it. It’s not demanding that she enjoy these things like Luz does; It’s just asking for her to respect its existence, and to support Luz’s interest in it and love her too.

            In For the Future, we see Camila horrified by what she encounters in the Boiling Isles; But she also spends the whole episode pushing through it anyway for Luz’s sake, being there for her as much as she can. Because she knows these are just feelings and nothing more, and she’s choosing to be kind in spite of them.

            By contrast, in this same episode we find out Belos does feel empathy and guilt towards his brother and nephew, he wasn’t purely 100% only interested in what they could do for him; And yet, he’s still just as cruel and violent towards them. He’s still cruel and violent towards witches and demons, sometimes using the ‘tragedy’ of Caleb as a justification. Hell, he even resents the ghosts for making him feel guilty, telling them to “Shut up.”

            Isn’t that fascinating? Disgust is portrayed as a morally neutral thing. It’s not an indictator of morality, it doesn’t mean something is bad… But it doesn’t mean the person who feels it is bad, either, people don’t consider that enough. It’s just a gut reaction. Sometimes people have internalized biases they need to work through, but other times, it’s pretty harmless as long as they’re self-aware and don’t do anything bad over it; This even applies to the process of unlearning the aforementioned biases.

            Likewise, empathy and guilt don’t actually, necessarily make you a good person. The example with Belos shows how some people will actually be crueler because of empathy, because they resent people for being upset, and thus making them feel upset because they naturally empathize. Hence those who get angry at people in pain and need for “ruining their vibe,” because now they feel bad too.

            There’s a juxtaposition in how Camila seems genuinely more scared and creeped out by the isles on a visceral level than Belos, and yet Camila has the common sense to still respect and fight for its existence; Whereas Belos chooses to make a mountain out of a molehill because it’s not just hatred, it’s pride. It all boils down to his ego at the end of the day. In many ways, other characters struggle with dilemmas more difficult than Belos’, yet still do better than he ever has.

            This all plays into my thesis that TOH is arguing your feelings are secondary to your actions, and that the latter is what decides whether you’re a “good” person or not. In the end, someone who’s had a good life and was a dick for selfish reasons, only to choose to be better, is more sympathetic and morally superior than someone who suffered a million unfair grievances, and proceeded to dole out a million unfair grievances, with no sign of stopping; Especially from an IRL perspective, and I think our IRL feelings sometimes influence how we engage with media, and vice-versa.

            That’s why the finale –and the show as a whole– emphasizes choices, over inherent, instinctual feelings. A decent chunk of Camila’s arc could be summarized by the word Squick; In the sense that it’s meant to describe things that one feels personal disgust and discomfort towards, but otherwise has no moral condemnation or problem with; It’s just a Me thing, is the point of Squick. Camila is like that sex-repulsed ace who nevertheless supports kink at Pride.

            That gets me to how my ruminations were prompted by a similar observation; How some people lump sex-repulsed aces in with the oppressive Puritans who hate sex in anything, but that’s not true at all. Obviously there’s the rare Exception, but as a whole, sex-repulsed aces are on the side of other queers who ARE sexual and are demanding to let these things be normalized; It’s not for them, but they have no moral condemnation and will fight for it in solidarity anyway, especially since both are hated by the system regardless. Sound familiar?

[velvetchrry]

grim reaper!simon “ghost” riley x f!reader

He wasn’t quite sure why but he didn’t want to take your soul.

Fragile little thing, still clinging to life. Sickly. Withering. But you had a fire inside of you, he could feel it. Burning brightly enough that it might even char him.

He wondered the last time your bare feet had touched the grass. The last time you filled your lungs with summer air. The last time you left this tiny little prison keeping your mortal body alive with tubes and drains.

You smile at him. It sends a chill down his spine — something he hadn’t felt since the before. Before he was this. Before he was death. When he was still a man. He can barely remember his old name anymore. Why are you smiling at him?

“I’ve been expecting you.”

Your voice was a melody. Expecting him? You couldn’t be.

“Do I have a few minutes or is it time now?”

He’s taken thousands of souls. More than he can count. Ferried them to the afterlife. Nothing but a blip on his radar, long forgotten. The ones that were still conscious enough to see him begged to live. Begged to be spared. But never this. Never waiting for him.

“Would you like a few minutes?” The words coming out of his mouth surprise even him. He hasn’t heard the sound of his voice in a long while. Hasn’t had the need to speak. It startles even him — a distortion of his human voice.

“I would… I would like to say goodbye to my mom.” He wants to wipe away the tear trickling down your face. He wants to tell you it’s going to be okay.

He nods and hovers to the corner of the room. You don’t seem to mind that he’s waiting there while you call in your mother. She doesn't accept what you have to tell her. It’s not your time, how could it be? You’re young, you have so much life left to live. You’re going to live, she won’t hear anymore of it otherwise. You say okay, another tear falls. You ask her to go get you something to eat.

When she leaves, you look back over to him. A shaky breath releases from your chest. You quickly wipe the backs of your delicate fingertips on your waterline.

“I’m ready.”

But he’s not. Oh no. He’s not.

He doesn’t want to take your soul. Doesn’t want it to incinerate that last little piece of him that’s still human. The piece that wriggles its way up to the surface every so often. He knows if he helps your soul to the afterlife, he’ll never remember his name again. Never remember the touch of a woman’s skin, the feeling of a hot breath against him. Never feel the ache in his chest where his heart used to be. The phantom pain that reminds him who he was. Simon.

He’s at your bedside before you can even blink. You’re not phased, not one bit. He sits, and reaches to take your tiny hand in his. You furrow your brow gently but give it to him.

He sees a flash of the man he was again. The black robe slips down his arm. A sliver of skin reveals his tattoos back at him, tattoos he hasn’t thought about in decades. You study him in silence while he does the same.

Why does your soul sing to him? Why does it remind him of the things he’s forgotten? Why you? Why not the other thousands upon thousands of souls?

“Will it hurt?” your tiny voice squeaks out.

They don’t deserve you — the gods that rule the afterlife. They’ll waste you, they won’t cherish you like he would. Like he could. You deserve so much more, delicate flower that you are.

“No, darling girl, it is as easy as dreaming.”

They have millions of souls. Billions. Surely they won’t miss yours. He can steal one soul for his own. It’s just one. One soul. The most precious soul he’s come across.

You close your eyes and let out a slow breath, waiting for the end to reach you. Death’s sure kiss.

He leans in slow, like he’s approaching a scared animal. Your eyes don't open. No — you trust him.

His lips meet your pillowy soft ones. He almost forgets how to do it, but your lips remind him. They help him. You kiss him.

He feels your soul like a lump in his throat. His large hand — the one not holding your wrist — wraps around your neck. It burns him, this kiss. He knew it would. Sizzles the very bones in his body.

An electrifying feeling takes hold of the both of you. Your skin is covered in goose flesh (his would be too, if it still could be). Your nipples harden, a wetness trails down your panties. You don’t break from him or his kiss. He wonders if it burns you a little too.

When the lump in his throat settles he finally feels it. He’s whole. For the first time in… maybe ever. He’s done it. He’s really done it. He breaks away from you.

Color has returned to your cheeks, the blood rushing beneath your skin. Already you look better than you did before he entered the room.

You don't understand it, he knows you don’t. Someday he’ll explain. Someday. But not yet.

The gods of the afterlife will never find you, and if they do, they’ll never have you. You’re his now. He’s done it.

He’s melded your souls together.

[heartelysia]

rich flex

"can you hit a lil' rich flex for me" ; in which you're nothing more than roommates

cw ; ooc leon, jealousy, panty stealing, panty sniffing, college au, re2 leon, use of sex toys, masturbation, creepy behaviour from leon

note ; this is also reposted from my ao3! college roommates au :3 [m.list] (i lovd leon n his little butt chin sm in re2 😭😭 its so cutw wtf) AND YES! THAT IS MANGA LEON KENNEDY!! ILLVE HM!!

she was the moon and he was the sun, polar opposites. she was closed off and reserved whilst the blonde wasn't much of an extrovert per say but compared to her, he shined much brighter.

people loved him and everything he had to offer but on her end, people would still ask, 'who is that?'. that was one of the many results of only choosing to attend night lectures or acting like a complete ghost during the semester.

she knocks on leon's door - if the crappy wood with a knob could be considered one - holding a half-full laundry basket in her other hand. a few moments pass, shuffling and the rolling of one of those wheelie chairs are heard through the thin walls. the door creeks open as a little bit of sunlight spill from the window in his room.

"oh hey y/n, whats up?", his soft, boyish voice rings throughout the hallway, his cheeks flushed a bright pink colour as his breath is bated with each second. you gesture to the laundry basket in your hand, holding onto your quiet demeanour. leon's eyes follows your movements before suddenly lighting up. "oh yes! it is my turn this week, thank you y/n!", he softly beams, fully opening the door as he grabs the basket from you and places it beside his stack of clothes.

you give the boy a simple hum before turning on your heel, heading back into your little man woman-cave. leons gaze lingers on you, watching the way you dragged yourself back into your cramped room. sometimes he wished he could hear your sweet voice more but we can't have everything we want right?

leon glances back into his room, glazing his eyes over each neat cabinet and organized stack of books before they land on the new addition of laundry. he hoped he didn't seem too off when speaking to you, after all, he still gets nervous around you despite being roommates. the blonde quickly brushes the thoughts out of his head as he grabs his pile of dirty clothes and dumps it onto your laundry, filling the basket to the brim before picking the heavy luggage up and waddling out of his room.

the sound of his footsteps reverberate against the crappy wooden planks as he awkwardly stumbles to the tiny laundry room. leon hooks his fingers under the lid, lifting it up as a scent of detergent pods hit his face. he quickly grabs the full laundry basket before tipping its contents into the washer before placing the empty basket back onto the floor.

he opens up one of the cabinets on top and grabs the detergent pods, popping one into its place. as leon is about to close the top and start the machine, something catches his eye, a frilly white pair of underwear. the blondes cheeks light up in embarrassment yet the familiar coil in his stomach grows as he feels his cock stir at the thought of your panties wrapped around his thick length.

leon swallows the lump in his throat, gulping as his eyes stay glued onto your undergarment. it was a morality debate in his head, he could either steal your panties or he would not. he gulps one last time before reaching his hand in and snatching the used underwear up, he scrunches the soft material up and shoves it into his pocket.

a small wave of guilt crashes into him but he brushes it off, closing the lid before turning on the washer, the water spilling from its sides as it dampens the fabrics. he places his hand into his pocket, clutching your panties in his hand as his breathing becomes ragged and his mind swirls with lewd fantasies of you.

a whine rumbles in his throat as the sound of your voice note plays in his headphones. with his cheeks flushed, ragged breathing and a fleshlight pumping up and down his length, his soft groans and moans fill the air. leon's leaky tip beads with precum as he replays the same voicemail you left him, stroking his fat cock up and down with the fake pussy.

leon suddenly pauses, he quickly reaches over under his pillow and grabs newly stolen pair of panties. his cock twitches once more, the knot in his stomach threatening to come undone from the thought of sniffing his beloved roommates used panties. he shoves the underwear into his nose, grunting gutturally at the scent of her, stroking his cock just a bit faster now. "f-fuck... you smell so good...", he moans, rutting his hips into the fleshlight as he takes a big whiff of her.

sure, the blonde feels somewhat bad... but he couldnt find his morality in him as of now, not when her delicious panties were pressed up against his nose. with each pump, his angry, swollen tip leaks more and more precum, the fleshlight picking the precum up and using it as lube, only adding to the fiery sensation leon is experiencing.

the knot in his stomach only gets tighter, ready to snap in half as the sound of your cold voice echoes in his ears. "oh fuck- fuck baby... sweetheart...", he grunts, bucking his hips uncontrollably into the fake pussy, wishing it was your sweet cunt he was pounding into. leon wondered to himself, would your pussy be wetter? would you moan uncontrollably as he jackhammers his cock into you? or would you be restraining your moans and making him fuck you till it finally spills out? it didn't exactly matter to the boy as his cock was speaking for him.

with one last final pump, his thick warm cum spills from his fat tip, followed by a series of depraved moans as he desperately grinds into the fake pussy, circling his hips as shots of thick cum come spurting out of his cock.

as he slowly calms down, gently pulling the fleshlight away from him, his ears perk up. a noise that didn't sound like it was from the voice message or one he made. maybe he was insane, maybe it was just him riding down from his high but he swore he heard a soft moan from the other side of the wall, the walls were thin... it could be him imagining things, after all, he still had his headphones on.

he really didn't like it, but what was he meant to do? she wasn't interested in him - at least to his knowledge. the blonde stares at the curly haired male following her from a distance as a look of hesitance was on the mans face.

"y/n?", the mans voice rung loudly, catching a few glances from passer-bys. the girl stops in her tracks, one hand resting on the strap of her shoulder bag, she turns on her heel to face the man. "carlos, what is it?", she softly asks, her voice hardly above a whisper but still rather blunt. the latin american grinned, handing y/n a few pieces of paper stapled together.

"its the draft i did really quickly, since I still dont have your number, i wrote mine on it so text me your thoughts about it.", carlos said, flashing the girl a charming smile. y/n simply hums as she takes the drafts from him, placing it in her bag as she holds the blank expression and mutters a small thank you. despite her lack of physical reaction, carlos seemed to light up a little more as he brings her into an awkward hug of gratitude.

when she pulls away, carlos seemed to look a bit more shyer than before as his cheeks were softly dusted with a gentle pink hue that doesn't go unnoticed by leon.

with his attention away from the lecture, the blonde clenches his jaw in frustration. she was merely a roommate, why did he care so much anyway. leon softly huffs to himself before turning away from y/n and carlos' small interaction and tries to focus back onto the lecture... keyword, tries.

as y/n returns from her lectures, the shared housing space is oddly quiet. leon would typically be cooking something up or playing music in the background. subconsciously, the girl had gotten so used to her roommates habits and routines, it felt weird and wrong without leon's presence made known to her.

despite the fact that they were polar opposites, she found comfort knowing leon was home but the fact that not a single squeak is heard unless it was from made her stomach twist.

"leon?"

her soft voice bounces off of the flimsy walls of the room, the sound of her voice actually audible unlike the multiple times she simply hummed in replacement of speaking. no reply, y/n softly sighs to herself as she drags her feet towards her cramped room, kicking her shoes off.

the girl enters her tiny room, throwing her heavy shoulder bag onto her chair as she slumps down against her bed, eyes closing from exhaustion. small grumbles and groans escape her throat as she rubs her eyes, expressing her distaste for the lengthy project.

she was too lost in her own train of thought that she suddenly jumped at the noise of someone knocking at her room door. when did leon get home?

"y/n, i got us takeout tonight, i hope you don't mind.", leons bashful voice leaks past the door, y/ns ears catching onto the sound of plastic rustling in his hand as she cracks open her door. peering at the handsome man through the obvious crack emits a soft chuckle from the blonde as he just lifts the plastic bags up, flashing y/n a glimpse of the food.

a waft of the scent of delicious chinese takeout has her fully opening her door, following leon close behind like a puppy into the kitchen. leon laughs at the way she gives into food so easily, a big grin tugging at his lips as he places the bag onto the counter. "you dislike my cooking this much?", he queries, taking out the containers one by one whilst staring at his roommate snatching the bamboo utensils from the bottom.

y/n shakes her head at his response, keeping her lips sealed. the blonde softly laughs before opening the food up, the smell of stomach-filling chinese cuisines filled their nose. "smells nice... good selection leon...", she softly mumbles, trying to hide the fact that her mouth was watering. red covers leons cheek as he sheepishly laughs it off, feeling the knot in his stomach once more at her praise, "really? uhm-... well time to dig in!".

y/n softly hums in response as she begins picking up sides into her bowl, "... thanks leon, you're really sweet.", she mutters lowly, slowly popping the food into her mouth. his eyes stay glued on each movement on hers. the way her voice rung in his ears was heavenly, the way her chest heaved faster than usual, the way her hair fell to frame her adorable face, the way her lips wrap around the utensil was so arousing...

fuck, he was hard again.

[wcbblife]

Public love

Prompt (I accidentally deleted the ask sorry): could you do a short story about Paige accepting an award and telling everyone that Azzi and her are dating?

a/n: guys I'm trying to finish all my recent asks in my inbox I swear. Life's been lifin' all of the sudden and I barely have time to write so apologies for that. Got a lot of drafts that I'm working on rn.

Warning: Paige is a yapper. Some spelling mistakes (hopefully not). A bit rushed tbh

“You look hilarious,” Azzi giggled, staring at her phone screen where their FaceTime call was running.

“Thanks, Azzi,” Paige deadpanned, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. She wiped her palms on her pants, only for Brittany to swat her hands away, scolding her.

Azzi's smile softened as Paige protested, her eyebrows furrowing. “You know you don't have to do this, right?”

“Don't start with that, Azzi,” Paige's exasperated tone didn't go unnoticed as she wiped her hands on a nearby towel. “We agreed that today was the day.”

Azzi threw her hands up in defeat, her smile unwavering. “I'm just saying.”

Paige had underestimated how bad her nerves would flare up at the idea of stepping onto a stage full of legends, with cameras recording her every move, to profess her love for her girlfriend to the whole entire world to see. It had been a tough conversation, but Azzi had convinced Paige to wait until the season was over, when they were no longer teammates.

“I'll do it, just you watch.” Suddenly, the normal confidence Paige always had resurfaced as a smug look settled on her face.

Azzi could still see through the facade.

“Hey, you know it's already on in the living room,” Azzi said, flipping the camera to show the TV. It showed the red carpet, which was almost over, and Paige's panic returned.

“Gosh, I just wish you were here.” Paige set her phone in front of her, properly showing her whole upper body to Azzi. She looked stunning. The blonde hunched over, taking a deep breath. “It would be easier.”

“You know I would be there if I could, babe. Something came up.” For a moment, there was complete silence, except for the rustling of Azzi dropping onto her sofa. “Plus, I won't have like… a million cameras shoved in my face. Which is nice.”

“Yeah, you're right.”

“Alright, you two, we gotta wrap it up. Paige, you're up in a few.” Brittany's voice startled the blood out of Paige's face as she flinched.

Azzi giggled. “I'll get going. And Paige… just do what feels right when you get up there, okay?”

“Yeah. I'll try.” She cleared her throat. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Paige.”

______

Paige was totally not ready for it. As the awards passed one by one, she found it increasingly harder to stay still in her seat.

“Bro, do you have ants on your ass or something?” Aubrey chuckled, whispering towards Paige.

“Something like that.” Paige adjusted her suit, applying pressure to her chest. She felt like she was going to throw up.

“Seriously, you good?” From her other side, Ice whispered, her expression a bit more worried than Aubrey's. Even with the makeup, Paige looked pale as a ghost.

“I'm good.”

Aubrey and Ice exchanged questioning looks as Paige didn't even bother to glance at them, her eyes glued to the presenters.

The lump in her throat grew until it was hard to swallow. She tensed when her phone buzzed in her pants.

From: Azzi

You look nervous, babe. [Attached image]

Paige opened the image, seeing a picture of her on the tv screen, jaw clenched and eyes wide.

From: Paige

I look crazy.

From: Azzi

You don't have to do this, Paige.

From: Paige

I want to, Azzi.

Do you not want me to?

From: Azzi

Of course I do.

From: Paige

That's all the I need to hear then.

From: Azzi

I just don't want you to feel stressed or obligated.

Especially in front of such an important stage and audience.

From: Paige

Then it's decided.

“Hey!” CD whispered from behind her. “Put your phone away, missy. This isn't the place for texting.”

“Sorry CD.” Paige rubs the back of her neck, feeling a bit embarrassed to have been called out at such an age. She put her phone away and heard the next award being announced.

Best female college athlete.

Paige straightens up, silently thanking CD from snapping her out of her little daydream. They went through the nominees, teasing the winner before finally announcing the long-awaited name.

Paige Bueckers from the University of Connecticut.

The crowd burst into cheers as Paige let out a huff of air and made her way through the row after a few hugs from her teammates.

She shuffled through the rows and climbed to the stage, where she was met with a few hugs and finally her trophy.

“Wow.” She huffs, looking around the venue, “I would like to start by saying that it's an honor to be able to receive this amazing award for a second time. I can't express just how much it means to stand here after all the hardships thrown my way.”

Speaking to such an intimidating crowd, knowing there were thousands watching from their homes, never got easier for Paige.

“Second, I'd like to thank my family. Thank you for sticking by my side and being my anchor through everything. Without them, I wouldn't be standing here today. And to my teammates, who have been my rock. They were a force to be reckoned with all season, and it was thanks to them that we brought home a championship.”

The crowd hung on her every word.

“It's no secret the injuries that have plagued our team these past seasons and even me a few years ago. It felt liberating knowing that if I ever fell, they would be there to pick me up and I don't think I could ever express how much I love those girls and just how much they mean to me”

Paige thought of Azzi at home, watching her, and the basketball legends before her. She traced the lines of the trophy, clearing her throat.

“To my coaches, who weren't afraid to show me tough love, I appreciate you all. It made my time at Connecticut all the more enjoyable. To Geno, who didn't shy away from telling me how to be the best and how to make those around me be better. I’m glad that I'll be able to call Uconn my home for as long as I live because it's an honor. Whether it sounds odd, I thank God that I tore my ACL while surrounded by such an amazing family because I wouldn't have been able to bounce back in such a dominant manner."

It was now or never.

“One of the main reasons I'm eternally grateful for this program is because I was able to build a deeper relationship with a teammate who you all may know very well,” Paige shifts her hands, feeling them sweat again. “We went through the same injury, and everything was easier to navigate with her around because we just got each other and knew what we were going through. I want to thank her for her love and unconditional support because she deserves that and more. She picked me up when it felt impossible."

She chuckled. Paige had been on big stages many times, but this felt different. The ground beneath her feet seemed to shift as the blood rushed to her ears, muffling the sounds around her. Her surroundings faded as she locked eyes with the big camera before her.

“That's why... I would like to thank my amazing girlfriend, Azzi Fudd, in front of everyone here today because she deserves the world.” Paige hears the muffled sound of gasps and cheers. “So, because I know she's home watching, I love you, baby. None of this would be possible without you.”

Paige took a deep breath, feeling a crushing weight lift off her chest. It was done.

She smiled for the first time that night and looked away from the camera, addressing the crowd. “Thank you for this award. I'll cut my speech short since I know it's running a bit long.” Laughter spread through the crowd, but most looked shocked, especially her teammates. She lifted her trophy with a smile, realizing how little she cared about anyone's opinion. “Thank you.”

______

“Didn't think you had it in you,” Caroline said, opening the door to Paige's makeup room. “Seriously, dude. Getting up there and just saying, 'oh, and I'm dating my bestie by the way' is crazy”

Paige deflated in her chair. After her speech, she had been ushered away for pictures and questions and hadn't heard from her teammates. She hadn't even checked her phone which was undoubtedly flooded with missed calls and messages.

“I wanted to throw up.”

Then, as if on cue, Aubrey, Ice, and KK entered together. “Dude, what the fuck was that?” KK screamed, laughing together with Ice. “Huge balls you got there, dude.”

“Oh, shut up, KK. Like you aren't head over heels over your girl too.” Paige shot back, eyebrows furrowing as she checked her phone. KK and Ice burst out laughing, dragging Aubrey to sit on the couch.

“It's on Do Not Disturb, Paige.” Sensing the urgency, Caroline put a hand on her shoulder, pointing at the unmistakable symbol of DND.

“Thanks.” Paige mumbled, turning it off and feeling relieved as messages flooded in. Hundreds of notifications took over her phone, but she only cared about one.

“Dude, you're already trending on Twitter.” Aubrey showed her screen, Twitter opened, but Paige didn't bother looking.

“Oh, and the articles are already popping up,” Ice added.

Finally, after some searching, Paige found Azzi's message.

From: Azzi

Such a sweet talker.

I love you too Paige

From: Paige

You liked it?

I tried to keep it short but I think that was too little or maybe too much??

I definitely could've added more to it.

What did you think?

Paige stared at the messages, nervous to hear from Azzi.

From: Azzi

Hey, I loved it Paige.

You can always finish it when you get home to me

That validation calmed Paige almost immediately. Nothing seemed to matter anymore.

From: Paige

Wanna call? I could tell you everything now.

From: Azzi

Yeah… if I'm correct, CD is about to burst through that door any second.

Either that or every reporter that was in that building wants to hear from you after that declaration of love in front of the whole world.

Let's wait until you get to the hotel, okay?

Right on cue, the rest of the team entered her room.

From: Paige

Good idea.

Love you

From: Azzi

Love you too