#than from someone he had a horrible/distant relationship with

[scumvillainess]

honestly i never really agreed with the popular shen qingqiu had a good shizun headcanon because if shen qingqiu actually had someone who he knew cared about him, he definitely wouldn’t have turned out the way he did in canon.

[boulevardk]

Caught in the Moment (Help, I'm Stuck!)

pairing: gojo satoru x reader (f)

genre: stepbrother!gojo + smut

word count: 6k

summary: When your Mom remarries, a certain white-haired, blue-eyed demon enters your life in the role of your new step brother. It doesn't matter how angelic he looks, he's nothing short of the devil. And while you've never been very close with your family, Gojo wants to be a whole lot closer to you than a step brother should be. But, hey, family comes first, right? Gojo sure thinks so.

warnings: stepcest (the people who like it, love it and the people who hate it wanna burn my house down for writing it), language, gojo's a brat, the stuck-in-washer bs from h*ntai, dubcon bordering on noncon?????? (open to interpretation, honestly), fingering & oral (f receiving), penetration (p in v), creampie, low key breeding kink, degradation with some hints of praise on the side like if you squint real hard, squirting, some anal (f receiving)

A/N: i will take no questions as to where I have been or why I was gone. i also write for some anime now too lmao. i miss satoru and I'm pissed at gege and I need an outlet bc these new manga chapters are giving me grey hairs. also, this is like 45% proofread max. oh, and thanks for 2k followers <3 ... i rarely come on here anymore, so I didn't notice until now.

xx Jay

You were never much of a family person. It’s not like your Mom made it very easy after divorcing your Dad and hopping from dick to dick like the floor was lava. New weekend? New date. Summer getaway? Fresh boytoy. Spring break? New guy to break her back- if her obnoxious moans were anything to go by. 

Overall, you were as much of a family person as your Mom was- noncommittal and unwilling to settle down. And you carried over that same distant, superficial behavior to any of your past romantic relationships… which always ended just about as quickly as your Mom’s did. Your closest friends liked to joke that poor taste in men and a lack of commitment to relationships were perhaps the only things you and your Mom shared in common. And you’d both been that way for as long as you could remember.

Which is why you heard a record scratch in your head when your Mom announced practically out of nowhere that she was engaged and soon to be married. Apparently, this was “the one” and “her knight in shining armor”, or so she claims. She’d have periods of puppy love infatuation every now and then with one of her flings, but since your Dad left the picture, none of your Mom’s relationships had led to a ring on her finger- much less a mansion to share with her new fiance.

The moving process proceeded as quickly as your Mom’s relationship had. In the blink of an eye, all your belongings were packed away nicely in boxes and placed in the back of a truck, soon to be parked in the driveway of your new house. It was as if your Mom wanted to move in together with her latest obsession before her new man realized how horrible of a wife she’d make. Your Dad could attest to that. 

The news about the engagement and rushed move all hit you suddenly, sure. But no amount of new information or experiences could have crashed into you quite as hard as your new step brother.

Literally. 

“Ow, fuck,” you rubbed your side, “Watch where you’re going.”

Gojo Satoru. 

Despite the angelic features, this boy was nothing short of the devil. Whenever you were bored, you’d flip through TV channels and stumble across trashy reality shows where rich people drank alcohol like it was water, partied until the sun came up, and had money to burn. You’d laugh at the over the top antics. Surely you’d never run into someone who actually behaved that way, right?

You wish you were wrong. 

Gojo turns around and lets out a chuckle, “My bad, sweets. I’m not used to having such dwarfs living here. The air must be a lil’ different down there, yeah?”

He places his palm on the top of your head and gives it a pat, smirk painted on his lips. You bat his hand away and take a step back, “You say that is if you’re not ducking to keep your head from hitting the door frame. I’m not tall, you're just freakishly tall.”

Smirking at you, he leans a bit closer to your face. He smells of strawberries, you note.

“Well, you know what they say about tall guys with big hands, right? Do you wanna find out if the rumors are true? I’ll give you a hint,” He takes another step closer, “they’re more than true. And all ya gotta do is step into my room and see for yourself.”

You bristle. 

His loud music? His rowdy friends that came over? His unwillingness to wash dishes? None of that came close to the bullshit that came from Gojo’s mouth. If it wasn’t suggestive comments spilling from his mouth, it was outright filth. 

Somewhere in Gojo’s mind, you two being in the city for the summer and practically home alone given your parents were constantly out doing God knows what meant it was open season to flirt and harass you mercilessly. It started as brushing your shoulder and occasionally touching your lower back when he would move past you in the hallway or kitchen, and now it progressed to… this. 

Stepping back like you’d been burned, you look at him with irritation, “Are you on crack? Is it crack that you smoke?”

He quirks his head to the side with a little smile on his face, “Whatcha mean, sweetheart? Don’t Mom and Dad want us to bond?”

You bring your hands to your head to massage your temples, “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say… any of what you just said.”

Turning around you begin to walk away, “Keep all your pervy comments to yourself, clean your dishes in the sink, and stay out of my way. I’m supposed to be on summer break, for fuck’s sake. I didn’t come back home from one headache to live next door to another.”

Gojo’s lips curl upwards at that as he tilts his head to the side to get a nicer view of your ass as you walk toward the other room. He knew he’d get you eventually, he just had to play the long game. Despite what the people around him thought, Gojo was no fool. He saw right through his Dad’s rushed engagement and gave the two love birds a few months tops before the relationship failed. And if his Dad was allowed to make foolish mistakes in the name of love (lust), then couldn’t he do the same? After all, it’s not like he’s ever going to see you again once the marriage falls through. 

He might as well enjoy this little…. sibling dynamic while it lasts, right? That’s what any good brother would do. And in that moment, Gojo decides to himself that he is that good brother. Oh, he’d be the best big brother. 

Despite the constant annoyances from the white-haired, blue-eyed demon spawn who resided in the house, you did appreciate the in-house washer and dryer. Lugging your dirty clothes from your apartment to the laundry room of your housing complex was quite the pain. 

Humming a tune to yourself, you walked to the dryer with an empty hamper held against your hip. Opening the dryer door, you leaned down and began to remove the items of clothing. You leaned in a bit further when you noticed a sock at the very back of the appliance. 

Rip

You froze. You’ve never been the religious type, but you prayed to whatever god existed that your favorite sweater did not just get caught in the door of the dyer. You held your breath and tried to pull back a little further.

Riiiip

This time the tear was louder and you could just picture the fabric coming loose. 

Biting your lip you tried to wiggle around a bit to find a way to back away from the dryer door without ruining your sweater even further. No luck. 

After some time bent over with your upper torso stuck in the dryer, you heard footsteps approaching the laundry room. 

“Thank God,” you breathed out, “Mom, can you lend me a hand? The fabric on my sweater is stuck to the door of the dryer, and I don’t want to pull away since it’ll rip the top even more.”

You felt a hand brush against your upper thigh, and your breath caught in your throat. 

“Oh, I’d love to help, sweetheart,” Gogo sighed, “But I can lend you a whole lot more than just a hand.” 

With as much strength as you could muster (given your upper body is stuck inside a godforsaken dryer), you kick behind yourself in an attempt to get him away from you… only to have him catch your foot in his large hand. 

“Oh,” he tsks, “That’s no way to treat your loving brother, is it? After all, I’m just trying to help my cute, helpless little sister.”

You grit your teeth, “So help me God, Gojo, if you touch me again, I’m going to rip your dick off and shove it down your throat.”

Although you can’t see him, you know he has that infuriating smirk painted on his face. “Nice to know you’ve got my dick on your mind, princess. Although I think I’d like my dick inside something else…”

Latching his hands onto your hips, he pulls your ass against him and grinds against you slowly. 

God, was it a bad day to have worn a skirt. 

“These skirts? These thighs?” he groans, “This ass? God, it’s like you’re begging me to take you. Seeing you leave the house with those skimpy little outfits on made me want to drag you to my room and fuck some manners into you. Maybe then you’d know not to show off what’s mine.”

You furrow your eyebrows so aggressively you know there’s guaranteed wrinkles. “What on earth are you talking about?” you spit, “Get the fuck away from me!”

You squirm some more but to no avail. He grabs your hips even tighter, and you feel the outline of something long and hard against your ass. You do everything in your power not to gasp. The last thing you want to do is give him the satisfaction of knowing how much this is affecting you. 

“You don’t get it, do you?” he asks in a taunting tone, “I’ve known since day one that your Mom and my Dad were never gonna last. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun of our own, right?” He grinds against you again, and the end of your skirt pushes higher up your thighs. “And I couldn’t believe my luck when I just so happened to be walking past the laundry room and spotted you all nice and vulnerable for me.”

“Gojo, this isn’t funny. Let go,” you bite back. 

“Oh, no, I think I’m gonna take my time and enjoy this,” he continues to roll his hips against yours and removes one of his hands from your hips to push your skirt up and over your ass, revealing your panties. “Black lace? You’re kidding me, sweetheart. It’s like you planned for this all along. You want me as bad as I want you, huh?”

You feel his fingers run along the elastic of your underwear and begin to slip them down your legs. This time, you really do gasp. And Gojo certainly heard it if his dark chuckle is anything to go by. 

“I’m not fucking around, Gojo,” you let out desperately, knowing where things are about to head, “This is fucked up. You’re my step brother, and there’s no way in hell I’d sleep with you. If you let me go now, I won’t tell our parents.”

By this point your panties are on the floor and your skirt isn’t covering any part of your ass. “Oh, go ahead and tell them, princess,” Gojo remarks as his fingers draw closer to your cunt. “Let ‘em know how good your step brother makes you feel. Family comes first. And in this case,” his longer digits finally reach your pussy, “you’ll be coming in more ways than one.”

He runs a finger up and down your slit, and as much as you try and fight back, your body gives into the pleasure, especially when his fingers reach your clit and begin to roll against the bundle of nerves. “Thaaaat’s it,” he purrs, “Almost like this body was made for me the way I know it like the back of my hand, hm?”

He picks up the pace at which he rubs your clit and suddenly inserts a finger inside your cunt. “Dripping already and you really had the nerve to pretend you didn’t want this. Kind of a sorry attempt to maintain your modesty, sweetheart.”

Pumping his finger in and out of you, you're beginning to lose the strength in your legs. If it weren’t for the fact that your upper torso was held up by the dryer, your legs might have given out. 

“G-Gojo, we shouldn’t-” 

He cuts you off, “You’re really going to tell me you don’t want this while you’re soaked already? Your mouth is saying one thing, but this pussy is saying another, sweetheart.”

As if to prove you wrong, he adds another finger and picks up the speed at which he’s scissoring your poor pussy. You let out a moan and allow yourself to push back against his fingers, barely mindful of your snagged sweater that landed you in this mess in the first place. 

You’re embarrassed to say (and you’d never admit this to Gojo), but you’re getting increasingly closer to your orgasm. You’ve been with your fair share of guys, sure, but no boy has ever made you feel as good as Gojo was making you feel right now. 

And that drove you nuts. 

Before you could stop yourself, you let out a moan. The pleasure of Gojo’s fingers on your clit and in your cunt was making your mind hazy and forgetful of the promise you made to yourself to not reveal how good Gojo was making you feel with his fingers alone. It was only a matter of time before your legs gave out completely if you’re being honest with yourself. 

“Oh?” Gojo asks tauntingly, “You enjoying yourself, pretty? What happened to that bratty mouth of yours? You just needed that attitude fucked right out of you, yeah?” 

Since Gojo already heard your moan and knew how your body was responding to his stimulation, you all but dropped your resolve and made no efforts to hold your noises back. After all, you were getting closer and closer to your release, and your brain hardly had the capacity to stay silent while taking his fingers. 

The lewd sounds of Gojo’s fingers pumping in and out of you were nothing short of filthy, and you’re almost ashamed to admit it turned you on even more. “Hear that?” Gojo asked as he continued his rhythm. “It’s like she’s calling out for me. You’re close, right?”

You whine at the question. 

“There’s no need to respond, sweetheart. I already know the answer,” Gojo quips with a smile. “But I think this pretty pussy of yours can be a bit louder… How about we pick up the pace a bit, yeah? Maybe add another finger? You can take it, right?”

Before you can respond, he adds another one of his long fingers and is plunging in and out of you at a mind bending pace. Your voice is shaky at best as you whine at the feeling. “Fuck,” you moan, “S-Sato-”

The white-haired boy smiles at your broken speech and the (attempted) use of his first name, “What was that, baby? Trying to moan your step brother’s name, let everyone know how deep his fingers are in your pussy?”

“Ugh,” you groan, trying to muster up the last bits of willpower you have left, “fuck you.”

He laughs at your comment and is half impressed that you’re still able to talk back. “Hm, still talking shit? Don’t worry, my tongue and cock will take care of that riiiight away. But first,” his pace gets impossibly faster, “you’re gonna cum all over my fingers.”

As if by magic, you came immediately after the words left his mouth. If you weren’t already a bit fucked out, you would have pondered how Gojo seemed to already know your body better than you did. 

Gojo pulls his fingers out of your sopping cunt and sucks them clean. “Hm,” he hums, “Tastes even better than I imagined. You’ll let me get another taste, right? I mean, that’s the least you can do for your step brother after he made you cum so nicely on his fingers.”

He slowly lowers himself to the floor as you process his words, and before you could formulate a response, his tongue is on your pussy. You gasp out and would be tempted to reach back and grab his hair if your arms weren’t stuck inside the damn dryer. 

Gojo groans into your pussy, “Fuck, sweetheart, you tasted amazing on my fingers, but I like it even better from the source.”

He dives back in and has you moaning out for more. The way he moves his lips up and down your slit and rolls his tongue around your clit feels heavenly, despite the fact that the boy is the devil himself. 

Your legs are growing noticeably weaker, and Gojo loops his arms around your lower thighs to keep you in place and pull your cunt closer to his greedy mouth. Even then, your lower half is twitching in stimulation. Despite the tremors, you try to push your hips against Gojo’s face even more, and he lets out a laugh at the feeling. If you could see Gojo, you would see how much your sounds and movements are affecting him. He’s already high on the feeling of tongue-fucking you. But from inside the dryer, you can’t see that he’s as hard as a fucking rock, and his leaking cock is straining against his sweatpants to the point where it’s almost painful. 

His tongue settles on your clit and begins to alternate from sucking to rubbing figure eights on the bud. You’re really hoping no one else is home. Because if someone is, there’s no way they wouldn’t hear your desperate moans that are only increasing in volume as Gojo continues to eat you out like your pussy is his last meal. 

“Satoru, that feels so fucking good,” you sigh, leaning your head down to rest against the wall of the dryer since you’re unable to keep it up. 

“Oh, it’s Satoru now, is it?” he asks mockingly as he leans back and lets his fingers continue the pleasure on your clit, “You’re telling me all I had to do to get on your nice side was suck on this pretty pussy? Sweetheart, I would have done that for free.”

He leans back in and latches his tongue to your clit once more, picking up the pace and intensity of his sucking. With the little leg strength you have left, you bounce the lower half of your body against Gojo’s mouth continuously in an attempt to increase the stimulation. 

‘She wants to ride my tongue, huh?’ Gojo thinks to himself. ‘She’ll have all the time in the world to do that when I get her to sit on my face.’

Gojo’s turned on even more at the thought of you suffocating him with your thighs as your cunt drops on to his lips. He’ll have to experience it soon before the idea drives him even closer to insanity. 

Fuck, he couldn’t get enough of you.

He moans into your pussy, and the vibrations almost make you cum on the spot. The feeling is so good your eyes are nearly rolling back in your head. You’re really glad Gojo can’t see your face or he’d never let you forget the fucked out look in your eyes. However, what you don’t know is that Gojo won’t let you forget how good he fucked you no matter what your facial expressions looked like- those were just the cherry on top. 

“I’m so close, Satoru,” you whine, “Please don’t stop.”

You continue to grind on his face, shaking with pleasure and beginning to feel beads of sweat form on your forehead from the heat of the tongue-fucking coupled with the warmth of the dryer. 

The dam broke when Gojo landed a loud smack on your ass. You yelped and your legs gave way fully as you released all over his face. Gojo licked up every last drop of your cum and left kisses around your inner thighs before he pulled away. 

“Damn,” he breathed out as he rubbed his hand against the cheek he just spanked, “I didn’t take you for the masochist type, little sis. Got any other secrets I should know about? Or should I just find them out myself?

You whine at the feeling of his hand on your ass. You know there’ll be a mark there tomorrow. But you couldn’t focus on the long-term consequences of what was happening right now in the laundry room. It was fucked up, of course, but it felt so good that you didn’t even care how wrong it was. 

“Satoru,” you spoke, voice a bit hoarse from moaning, “need you to fuck me.”

Gojo tilts his head in faux confusion, “What was that, princess? I didn’t quite catch that. I mean, you are stuck in the dryer, after all. How else would I have been able to get you this easy and exposed for me?”

You groan in equal parts irritation and desperation. If you weren’t so fucked out already, you would have certainly cussed him out by now. 

“I said,” you repeat more firmly, “I need you to fuck me.”

He hums, “What? No “please”? And here I thought I’d fucked some manners into you. I guess all you respond to is cock, huh?” He brings his hand down against your ass once more. “Why don’t you try again, sweetheart?”

“Please,” you beg, “Please, please, please fuck me, Satoru. I need your cock so bad.”

You know he’s got that bratty smile on his face when he hears your words. His little step sister wants his cock, and who is he to deny her?

He quickly pulls down his sweats and spits on it before pumping it a few times. He rubs the head of his cock up and down your slit before lining it up with your entrance. 

“Wait,” you manage to snap out of your daze, “Satoru, we need condoms.”

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, “Condoms? Baby, don’t you trust your step brother? You know I’m clean.”

You open your mouth to refuse, but your mind gets more and more hazy as he rubs his cock against your folds. 

“And besides,” Gojo grunts, “You’ll be begging for my cum soon enough.”

Without another word, Gojo slides into you. You curse out loud. He’s not even all the way in, and he feels fucking huge. The tip alone is wide enough that the ring of your pussy stretches uncomfortably and you feel it sting. And, fuck, even though it feels like he’s been pushing in for forever, he’s still not done. 

“Fucking, fuck,” you gasp, “Are you all the way in yet?

You can’t see his length, but as he pushes deeper and deeper inside your wet pussy, you suspect he’s got to be somewhere around 9 inches at least. Of course, the rich, popular, pretty boy has a massive cock, because he’s just so infuriatingly perfect.

“Just about, sweetheart,” he hisses and finally bottoms out, “What? Don’t tell me you want to back out now. You’re the one who wanted this, remember? My bratty little slut of a step sister can’t take the cock she begged for just a minute ago?”

You bite your lip and try to adjust to his gigantic length. Once the burn subsides, you feel the pleasure seep in. You’ve never felt so full. It was as if he were in your guts, and if you could look at your abdomen, you’d see his cock bulging from your tummy. You could only imagine how much fuller you’d feel when he actually came.

And although you had been apprehensive earlier, now the idea of Gojo cumming deep inside you nearly had you drooling. Better yet, his cock is so massive that instead of drooling saliva, you imagined his cum dripping from your mouth because he had filled up your pussy past the brim. 

“Fuck, I can’t wait any longer, sweetheart,” Gojo groans and begins to fuck into you. “You’re so fucking tight it feels like your pussy is suffocating my cock.”

You moan at his words and try to picture his face as he takes you from behind. Gojo has always been attractive- that was never up for debate. But you could only imagine how hot he’d look with his eyebrows furrowed as he bit down on his pretty pink lips and sweat rolled down the sides of his face. You bet his white hair would stick to his forehead a bit, and you’d kill to run your fingers along his uppercut while he fucked you. 

That can be for another time. 

“Oh, my God,” you cry out as he pounds into you, “Just like that, Satoru, don’t stop.”

He playfully rolls his eyes as if your pussy wasn’t frying his brain too, “So demanding,” he tuts. 

Picking up the pace, Gojo begins to slam his hips against yours even harder. He lands another spank on your ass and grabs your hips tightly with his free hand.

When was the last time you got laid? You can’t even remember when the dick you’re getting now is so good. And you certainly have never had a guy this big before, that’s for sure. But you almost feel like a virgin, because you have never been fucked like this before. It was an experience you hadn’t even considered until now.

“God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Gojo professes, “Every time I’d hear you touching yourself in your room, I wanted to kick the door down and take care of you myself.”

If you weren't so absolutely cockdrunk already, you would have been positively flushed with embarrassment at his comment given you thought you’d been so quiet and strategic about when you played with yourself. 

“Fucking hell,” Gojo removed his hand from your ass pushed his hair out of his eyes. “I even thought about sneaking cameras into your room to get an exclusive glimpse of what you looked like all needy and desperate to cum.” 

You gasped at the vulgar statement and felt yourself grow strangely wetter. 

Since when did any yandere behavior turn you on? 

Gojo laughs when he feels you tighten around him. “Oh, you like that? Well, now that I have this pussy, I’m never letting it go. No need for those cameras anymore, sweetheart. Why watch clips when I have this cunt instead?”

You really felt like you were going insane at this point. His cock is bullying itself into your cunt at an almost bruising pace. You could feel your wetness run down your thighs and your cheeks burn with embarrassment imagining the mess you’ve made on the floor from the amount of cum you’ve released. 

Gojo’s not faring any better. He felt like he would bust almost immediately after pushing into you, but he’d be damned if he fucked up this moment- the moment he had been imagining and wait for since the first time he laid eyes on you. 

“Oh, step sister,” Gojo said in a sing-song voice in between grunts, “Could you imagine if Mom and Dad walked in on us now? What would they say, seeing your precious little cunt be stretched out by your step brother’s cock, huh?”

Moaning at the thought, you try to close your legs a bit at the overstimulation.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Gojo quips and pulls your legs apart before shoving a hand between them and attaches his fingers to your abused clit. “There’s no way you’re getting away from my cock until you’re filled with my cum and can’t remember a thing except my name. Got it?”

You nod your head but immediately receive another spank. “Words, princess.”

“Yes!” you cry. Since there are tears welling up in your eyes, you’re now sweating, drooling, and crying. Gojo must hear your sniffling since he remarks, “Next time, I’ll take you from the front. That way, I’ll be able to see your face when I fuck you dumb.”

His words get progressively dirtier as he pounds into you. He’s so caught up in the sensation of your pussy clenching around his cock that he’s almost rambling nonsense at this point. 

“Do you know how hard it is not to push you down face-first on the counter when you walk into the kitchen wearing those tight dresses or short skirts? It’s crazy how I've waited this long to fuck you,” he pants. “Fuck, I’ll have to take pictures of you after I’m finished fucking this sloppy pussy so I can show all my friends what they're missing.”

You never imagined you’d be into voyeurism, but the way Gojo is describing how he’d photograph and record you to show you off to his friends like some prize to be won has you moaning out even louder. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire. And everything Gojo is saying and doing is only adding fuel. 

He was reaching parts of you that you didn’t even know could be reached. And he could tell by your reactions how good you felt taking his cock.

“Poor little girl,” he sighed out, “I bet you were getting tired of playing with this pretty pussy all by yourself, right? Your fingers just weren’t long enough to reach right…. here.” He hits your g-spot head on, and it has you screaming out his name. He rams against the spot over and over again, and you swear you’re seeing stars. 

His stamina should be studied by scientists the way he’s relentless as he pounds into you without any sign of slowing down. You knew for a fact that you would have collapsed onto the floor if not for the dryer door and Gojo’s arms keeping you up. You felt like a ragdoll with the way he was fucking you. You weren’t a person in this moment, you were his own personal fleshlight. And he’d be damned if he let you walk away without your pussy perfectly molded to fit his dick and his alone- not that you’ll be able to do much walking for a while anyway. 

“Y-you so big, Satoru,” you exhale, “I swear I can feel you in my throat.”

He laughs at your cockdrunk comment, “Believe me, sweetheart. Next time, my cock will be in that throat.”

He starts rubbing your clit even faster than before, and you’re doing everything you can not to scream your throat raw. It’s like Gojo has some sixth sense for your facial expressions since he barks, “Don’t you dare keep that mouth closed. I waited too long to fuck this tight pussy for you to hold back your screams.”

Your ass shakes as he spanks you multiple times in a row. With each spank, your moans get louder, your ass now bright red and warm to the touch. 

Removing his hand from your waist, your legs fumble. You’re barely standing upright, and practically all your weight rests on the where you body slumps over the dryer. “You better keep standing, pretty.” Gojo taunts. “Because you’re gonna have a much harder time taking my cock if you slip.” He threatens you as if he wouldn’t just fuck your boneless body on the floor, but he feels you tighten even more with his empty threat. 

Using his free hand, he spits on his fingers and brings them to your ass. Your eyes shoot open when you feel one of his digits run against the rim of your ass. “S-Satoru, what are you d-doing?” you stammer out, trying your best to form remotely coherent sentences. 

“What am I d-doing?” Gojo mocks. “Well, I’m just showing this hole some love too. Must have felt left out seeing your pussy be stuffed so nicely, yeah?”

He runs his finger along the rim and leans down to spit another dab of saliva on the hole all while keeping up his cock’s brutal pace and unforgiving assault on your clit. 

You clear your throat and shake your head in a poor attempt to clear your mind. “S-Satoru, I haven’t done anything there yet,” you pant. “Y-you shouldn’t do that.”

He smiles almost sinisterly, “Oh, I think I should, sweetheart. And that’s what I’m gonna do.”

Without any warning, he pushes his finger into your ass, and you yelp at the foreign sensation. You’d never tried anal with any of your past boyfriends. This was entirely new terrain. 

And Gojo dismissed your apprehension like he was swatting a fly. 

If anyone else did something like that to you, you’d wring their necks. So why did it feel so damn good when Gojo did it?

You moan louder as he begins to pump the digit in and out slowly, his spit acting as makeshift lube for the tight muscle. The combined sensations of your clit, cunt, and ass being played with was driving you insane. 

“F-fuck, Satoru,” you nearly wail, “I can’t take anymore, it’s too much!”

He shakes his head in mock disappointment, “Oh, no, pretty. You can and will take it. You’re not done until I say you are.”

You’re fully sobbing by this point. You can’t tell where your tears end and where your drool begins. Your whole body is shaking and not just because of Gojo’s unforgiving pounding. 

“I’m so close,” you exclaim, “F-feel like I’m going to explode.” You didn’t even know how to explain what you were feeling at this point. 

“Explode, huh?” Gojo questions as he bites back a groan, “Well, that sounds exciting. How could you possibly ask me to stop now? We’re gonna miss the best part.”

You bite the inside of your cheek so hard that you taste the metallic flavor of blood that mixes with the excess saliva in your mouth from all your drooling. And if you were actually able to think clearly, you would have noticed the saltiness from your tears as well. 

“S-Satoru!” you scream. “I think I’m gonna-”

You didn’t even get to finish your sentence before you’re squirting all over your and Gojo’s legs, the floor, the side of the dryer. Your whole body is trembling, and you feel as if you’ve been electrocuted. You’re still crying out as Gojo brings both of his hands down to your hips to fuck you even harder. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Gojo moans loudly, “Did you just squirt? Fucking god, I can’t wait to lick it off you.” His pace is as rough as ever, but it feels even more intense since you just had the strongest orgasm of your entire life. “I’m gonna fill up this pretty little pussy, and then no other guy will want my sloppy seconds, yeah? This pussy belongs to me now.”

Gojo fucks into you one, two, three more times before he’s shooting thick, hot ropes of cum deep into your weeping pussy, still unbearably sensitive from squirting. If you weren’t so fucked out of your mind, you would have been mortified that you squirted- on Gojo and because of Gojo, nonetheless. 

It feels like ages before his cock stops filling you with his seed and he finally stills inside of you. That’s a miracle if ever you’ve seen one, because you thought you would die if he kept going. 

You both wince as he pulls out, and he watches in awe as his cum spills from your cunt. You hear him rustle through his discarded clothes on the floor before you hear the click of a camera. This little sound effect draws you from your haze a bit.

“G-Gojo!” you yell. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

You can hear a pout in his voice. “Gojo? What happened to Satoru, hm? Is that name only reserved for when I fuck you?”

“Delete that immediately!” you wiggle in place. 

He just scoffs and shakes his head. “Oh? You really want me to delete it? Because I could have swore you were just smothering my cock when I told you how badly I wanted to take pics of you after I’d fucked you stupid.”

You huff and are about to argue back when you feel him run his fingers against your thighs once more, and your words are caught in your throat.

“Speaking of which…” Gojo hums, “I must not have fucked you hard enough if you can still talk back to me…”

Your breath hitches. 

“I guess that just means I’ll have to fuck you again then, won’t I?” Gojo thinks aloud and grabs your ass with both hands. “Like I said, family comes first.”

---

if you made it this far...thanks guys lmao

[miley1442111]

(part 4) wrong choice, wrong move-a.donaldson

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a/n: fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

summary: when you find out about his betrayal and how your relationship truly ends. (dw there are more parts after this :))

pairing: art donaldson x reader

warnings: angst, feelings of disappointment, hurt, allusions to an eating disorder, depression, fainting, cheating, etc. +

PART 4 of 12

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Art was a shell of his former self. His eyes were constantly blood-shot and sunken, he was losing weight, his mindset was fucked, the works. Yet, you seemed perfectly fine. Your tennis had never been better, your grades were excellent, and you were focusing on yourself. Well, you were trying to, it was pretty difficult when Art Donaldson was constantly over your shoulder, wondering when he could apologise and make things right. You two had promised that you’d go no-contact for a few weeks, giving time to allow the fresh cuts to heal over and then you’d be there for each other after. That ‘no-contact’ lasted a day. Then Art was at your door sobbing his eyes out, and you had to let him in. 

“I`’m so sorry to show up like this,” he sighed, tears rolling down his cheeks as he rested his head on your chest, his arms holding you close to him as you played with his hair. 

“It’s alright Art,” you promised him. You missed him just as much as he missed you but you were hurt. You wanted a change in behaviour, not just some pretty tears and kind words. “Seriously, we promised we’d be there for each other.”

Art let out a choked sob into your chest and you held him tighter. “It's ok, I’m always going to be here for you.”

“I’m so sorry,” he cried into your chest. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, trying to calm him down. “Art you can’t keep doing this to yourself, you have to move on,” you sighed. “I’m not that special.”

His eyes met yours in a disapproving glare as he stood up, pacing your dorm. “You’re so special. You’re so incredibly interesting and smart and driven and I fucking love you! I fucking love you so much that I show up at your dorm room every fucking day looking like a fucking loser and making you comfort me because I fucked up! You’re off doing your own thing, being amazing and I barely do anything anymore! I feel like I can’t breathe when you’re not around, like I can’t think when you’re not there. I need you Y/n. So yes, you’re pretty fucking special to me!” 

The room was silent. 

“Art, just calm down love,” you sighed, trying to coax him to calm down. 

“I’m not calming down. I want you, I want you more than anything-”

“Art that’s not fair,” you snapped. You were angry now. It’s exhausting watching someone be this blind to their own faults. “Art, we broke up because you constantly choose Tashi over me. That’s on you! You need to move on!”

“Have you?!” He shouted back. 

“I can’t when you’re clinging to me like a fucking baby!” You shouted. “Go to your friends, not your ex-girlfriend Art! We broke up and maybe yeah, it was your fucking fault but I’ve been really nice trying to not hurt you more because I love you!-”

“Then why are we broken up!?” His voice cracked.

“Because I’m sick of being your second choice!” You screamed. 

Art was quiet. He grabbed his jacket from the bed and left your dorm, leaving you to fall apart on your own. 

Since Art had felt, your world had grown quieter and quieter, you became more distant to those around you, you were unhappy, you ate less, you trained more, probably too much. 

But what else were you supposed to do? 

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You showed up to the Challenger ready to win, despite the clear exhaustion you showed with your sunken and dark eyes, horrible posture, and constant yawning. 

Art was shocked. He hadn’t seen you in weeks. You were significantly slimmer, you looked awful to be honest, and he knew it was his fault. 

You served first, Tashi against you. The serve was good, not your best, but you two were playing real tennis. 

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The ball hit the court and the game was over, you’d won, once again. Art and Patrick cheered discreetly from the stands as Tashi smashed her racket in anger. You didn’t even celebrate, just running to the bathroom and into a stall, sitting on the closed seat and passing out. 

You were severely damaging yourself. Your entire team knew you were not safe to be playing, but they knew you were at your prime to go pro, so they ignored it. Everyday was like an uphill battle, one that you were losing. 

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“Art!” Tashi shouted as Art rambled about how ill you looked. “I don’t fucking care about her form, or how she looked! If she’s ill, how come she beat me?!” 

Art stayed silent. 

“I cannot believe I fucked you at that party,”  Tashi sighed, her head in her hands. You gasped and hid behind the door, stopping your hitting partner from walking into the warm-up court. 

Art and Tashi had fucked the night of the party. The party that you and Art were late to because he fucked you before it. 

He’d cheated on you. 

What?

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You walked into the court, head high in spite of the dizzy feeling in your head.

“Good game, sorry I had to run off earlier, I felt sick,”you explained to Tashi, holding your hand out for her to shake.

"Good game," she grumbled. You caught a glimpse of the horror on Art's face. You'd heard. He was never getting you back, not now, not ever.

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art donaldson masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

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[utterlyotterlyx]

These Hallowed Halls

Cassian x Fem!Reader

Based on this ask x

Summary - You had begged Cassian not to leave you again, you had begged him to stay, and you had fallen apart when he had left without saying goodbye.

Warnings - swearing, ANGST, depression, weight loss, fluff, Cassian being a raging prick, Azriel being a softie, mentions of blood

The Mother was certainly mocking you.

Rain smacked against the stone balcony beyond the glass doors which were rattling in the wild wind, harmonising with your own sadness as you stood in the centre of your room, finding little to no comfort in front of the fire you were usually curled in front of.

Grey skies loomed overhead. It was rare for such a storm to descend upon Velaris, so rare that most didn't know what to do when it arrived. Most opted to stay in doors and wait it out, wait until starlight flooded the streets in welcome and fae journeyed on in their lives.

Cassian stood before you, dishevelled and tired, deep sunken patches under his one shade darker than usual eyes, his lips curled into a snarl, body lax and weary. The Illyrian ran his hands over his face, grazing his fingertips over his growing beard, and he rolled his shoulders and his wings with them before he looked to you and sighed, "Don't make this harder than it needs to be, Y/N."

You had been joined at the hip, had a relationship that no one could ever understand, not even Rhys or Az could figure it out. Cassian was your lighthouse in an ocean of fog, he had the ability to be your happiness or shatter your soul, and you clung to every piece of affection and attention that he gave to you. When he was gone, you felt as though you were on fire, like every single one of your nerve ends were being cauterised and there was no anaesthesia.

Brown waves fell from his loosely wrapped bun, drifting over his face which was illuminated by that golden glow emitting from the fireplace. Cassian had come to you right after he reported to Rhys like he always did, but instead of hugging you tightly and cracking open a bottle of wine to tell you his next enthralling tale, he stood before you to tell you he was leaving again with a cold and distant accent taking over his entire body.

"But, you've only just gotten back," you told him, fiddling with the cuffs of his jumper that you had stolen, just needing to be surrounded by him for one moment, it drowned your body since Cassian was a large framed male, and you adored his jumpers, they made you feel precious.

"I know that," he bit, his muscles tensing in a different order every few seconds.

He was exhausted, you knew that, it rolled off him in waves, no, tsunamis, and you wanted nothing more than to run your hand through his unbound hair and tell him it was okay. But you had missed him, too much.

The fire crackled at the head of your bedroom, a blanket lay strewn over the arm of the sofa from when you had flung it off of your body the moment his scent filled your lungs from down the hallway.

"Do you have to go? I've missed you Cass, it's been horrible without you," you pleaded, each one of your words made him feel heavy.

Cassian adored you, you were his shadow, clinging to him for comfort, he always found you in his clothes, he always found you waiting for him whenever he returned home to give him what he needed. Whether that be someone to laugh with or someone to hold until he fell asleep.

You were his person. In the most platonic way possible. Cassian couldn't say that about anyone else but you.

"Rhys had ordered it. So yes. I have to go," his words were harsh and laced with venom, a pure annoyance that radiated from him as he rolled his neck, unmoving from his place in front of you.

You were confused, he hadn't even smiled at you when he had entered your room, he hadn't hugged you or asked how you had been, he hadn't offered to tell you a story or let you know what he needed to feel better. The Cassian in front of you wasn't the Cassian you recognised.

It was the first time you felt small in front of him, the first time where his gaze made you cower and feel uneasy, "I can speak to him if you'd like? He might let you have some rest at least-"

"Fuck, Y/N. Will you just stop?!" Cassian shouted at you, the sound of his voice made you flinch backward as he took a step toward you, "I don't need you to do anything for me. I don't need you to stroke my hair or fight my corner, I don't need you to talk to Rhys for me like your words will make any difference in what my High Lord requires me to do. I don't need you suffocating me and wearing my fucking clothes. I don't need you, Y/N."

Water blurred your vision as his words sliced through you, deadly enough to make you feel as though you were dying, "I'm sorry, I was just trying-"

"Stop trying. Just stop. I am the General of the Night Court's armies, it is my duty to go where I am needed and I'm very sorry to say that it's not with you Y/N. Others need me more than you. Stop fucking clinging to me and find something else to obsess over."

Cassian was panting and breathless, fury blazed in his rich hazel orbs and you let out a pained sob, wrapping your arms around yourself and stepping backward again until your legs hit the back of the sofa, you rested your weight against it and let out a shaky breath.

You didn't dare look up when you heard Cassian shuffle, his feet scuffing against the floor breaking the silence that had consumed you. You had expected him to realise what he had said, you had expected him to rush to your side and apologise. But no. Cassian dragged his feet behind him and opened your bedroom door, allowing a gust a cold air to circle the once warm room before slamming it behind him, slamming it so hard that the canvases on your walls rattled at the force.

Sleep that night had not consumed you like it usually did, the ghost of Cassian's touch lingered on your skin and you cried until your throat was raw and head was pounding. You cried until the words he spat at your drowned you into the abyss.

The morning had come around quickly and you had groaned whilst getting out of bed, the little sleep you had gotten clear on your face and body, your tear stained cheeks were puffy and red, and your hair was a mess from your hands clawing through it, begging for some pressure to take your pain away.

You had to find him. You had to see him. You had to say goodbye.

But when you had entered his room without knocking, you gasped, his bed was askew, the scent of him lingered in the air, but he wasn't there. Cassian had left. His bedroom a haphazard sign that he had left in a hurry and as soon as he had woken up.

You hadn't realised that you had fallen to your knees sobbing until cedar and night-kissed mountains flooded you, Az's arms wrapped around you and he held you close, hushing you and whispered to you that everything was going to be fine. Rhys had appeared next, frowning at you with sad eyes before cradling you carefully to his chest, stroking your hair as he carried you back to your room and fitted your sheets over your frame. Rhys continued to hold you until your mind was weak enough to allow him in to put you to sleep.

They had tried everything to coax you out of bed the weeks following Cassian's abrupt exit, Amren had offered to take you to the library countless times, promising to buy you every book that you wanted. Mor had tried to get you to go to Rita's, to drink and dance the pain away. Azriel's shadows peppered kisses over your face and had done their best to curl around the edge of your sheet to pull them down, to which you had whimpered and pulled them back up to your neck. Rhys had even offered to take you dress shopping, he told you that if an expensive garment was going to make you smile then he would spend his entire fortune on it.

Nothing made you want to move.

Your soul felt empty, every fibre of your body felt dead and cold, like the crisp forest in the middle of a harsh winter. Nothing made you want to live your life. Cassian's words to you played over and over in your mind, maybe you were too much, maybe after all your years together in your family had made you too comfortable.

It took everything within you to not ask for one of his jumpers, he had made it clear that he didn't want you to be like that anymore. He didn't want you.

Your body felt heavy, the weight of your despair crushing your limbs into dust. You felt the weight dropping off of you, you felt your stomach cry for nourishment but didn't wish to satisfy it, you didn't want anything, anyone, but him.

"Please get up, Y/N. It's been three weeks, you've hardly eaten. We're worried about you," Azriel had settled into the space behind you and smothered you with his heat, he noticed how cold you were, how tired and lost your eyes were, how you wore an expression of pure heartbreak and loneliness on your beautiful face.

Azriel sighed at your weak grunt, pulling you back into his chest and doing his best to make you feel loved and cherished. He couldn't admit it but he had heard the words Cassian had so carelessly thrown at you that night, and it took everything within him to not burst through your door and pummel his brother into the ground, even his shadows wanted a piece of the General, how dare he say those things to you.

The Shadowsinger couldn't even put into words the relationship between you and Cassian. You had never been lovers, but you had never been just friends. Friends didn't peck each others temples or stroke each others hair. Friends didn't wait up for the other to return home and then scurry into one of their bedrooms to hold one another and talk. Friends didn't act like you and Cassian, two kindred spirits of chemically perfect harmonisation.

Azriel missed your smile, he missed the way that they all lit up when you laughed, or entered the room, or even looked at them. You made life feel lighter, you made life feel balanced. But now, now it felt disjointed, and they all felt it.

When you didn't move, or even tear your gaze away from the world beyond your window, he sighed and left the room with a soft click of the door. Cassian wasn't due to return for another couple of weeks, and Azriel feared so badly that the damage would be too severe for even Cassian to repair.

The days ticked on, days where you didn't eat or bathe, days where you only left your bed to use the bathroom before finding another nightgown to wear, days where your only sustenance were a few almonds and some water. Mor had gasped when she had seen your body through the crack in your door, the grey tinged sickly paled skin, the outline of your ribs, the deep hued sacks under your eyes; it was too much for her to witness, and she had to take herself into her own room and cry for you.

Azriel had knelt in front of you two weeks later, tears in his eyes, and you felt his sadness rippling off of him as his face entered your weak vision, it was the first time you had really looked at any of them since that day. He had taken your limp hand in his own, he had allowed his shadows to slither up your limb and coax you gently into smiling softly at him, "Please get up, Y/N. Please. I'll do anything you want. I can't watch you kill yourself anymore. We love you, we love you so much. Please."

You had squeezed his hand as hard as you could, which to him was nothing, and shifted in your bed, wincing as you pushed your legs over the side of the mattress. Azriel was beside you in a second, crouching in front of you and helping you to your feet, "I want to feel the sun," you voice was hoarse, Azriel was surprised that you still knew how to talk, "Take me to summer."

Cassian had sped home as fast as he could once his job was finished. The feeling of leaving you had broken him more each time he had thought about it, that pained look on your face had haunted his dreams. He never should have said those things to you, he never should have left you, he should have told Rhys to go and fuck himself instead of what he really did.

You had cowered like a wounded animal in front of him whilst every word cut you like a knife, if it were a knife you'd surely be dead.

He had to get back to you.

Cassian had landed on the lawn of the River House and he felt the atmosphere shift, what was once light and warm was now cold and ominous. The house held no joy, your laugh did not stalk the halls, it just felt lonely, abandoned. Just like you.

The door had flown open and Mor had stalked from the hearth, eyes blazing with hatred, pale and tired, and she wasted no time in bounding right up to him and planting her fist right in the centre of his face. Cassian lurched to the side at the impact, cradling his busted nose in his hand, "You prick," she seethed, Amren and Rhys had flown out of the house after her but were to late to stop her from jabbing Cassian right in the nose, "Today was the first time she's even spoke after what you did," her finger was in his face, her eyes were wild and frantic, "How could you do that to her? She's your person, she's your best friend and you did that?"

Rhys grabbed her wrist before she could land another blow, Amren had swooped in and guided Mor back into the house, not before growling at the male in front of her, leaving Cassian and Rhys out on the lawn, the latter of which was glowering at his brother.

"Count yourself lucky that she got to you first," Rhys was dead behind the eyes, Cassian had never seen a void like it, he looked to the house, hoping that the foundations would peel apart so that he could see you, Rhys scoffed, "Azriel has taken her to Summer. She needed the sun, she hasn't been out in it for four weeks."

"Four weeks?" Rhys hummed, his power throbbing around him, "Rhys I fucked up, I need to see her."

"I'm sure you can wait, like she waited for you. I hope you're proud of yourself brother, I really do."

Rhys turned on his heels and disappeared into the depths of the home, leaving Cassian stood in the grass cursing himself for ever taking his anger out on you.

Rhys had called to Azriel, had told him that Cassian was at the River House and that he should take you to the House of Wind instead. Azriel had obliged without question, not wanting to put himself in the situation where he would harm a member of his family.

You had figured it out, the reason why your residence had been moved so abruptly, and it shattered you. Your afternoon in the sun had been lovely, you felt the sun seeping into your pores, you felt the waves kissing your feet, you felt the sand between your toes, and you felt safe pacing beside Azriel who only spoke when you did.

Soon enough, you had found yourself in the deep tub of you House of Wind bedroom, you had always loved the view there, you could see the valley of gold at the foot of the mountains, you could hear the childish laughter drift upward from the streets, and you could see the starlight cascade across the sky.

Oils and warmth washed your grime and paleness away, the heat giving a new lease of life to your skin. You were sure that you still looked awful, that much was obvious from the longing stares your family had bestowed upon you over the past few weeks.

The tub rippled as you stood from it, you dried yourself off and pulled one of Azriel's jumpers over your figure as well as a pair of lax cotton pants that hung from your hips. Azriel had done his best to make your room feel cosy, he lit the fire with his own hands and refused to cower away, he wouldn't cower away from it for you, he had brought you tea and fluffed your pillows, but you still ached, you still yearned for something else.

Loud voices echoed from the hallway, the padding of feet drew closer and you frowned softly at the noises floating to your ears. The door of your bedroom flew open and you found Cassian stood before you, nose smeared with poorly wiped blood, he looked frantic and boiling with worry and fear, and his face contorted when he saw you.

Rhys had entered after him, he had surveyed you carefully, noticing the towel you must have been drying your hair with now a pile of cotton on the floor, "I'm sorry, Y/N. I can make him leave."

It was like your soul was burning with that aching fire, only this time it wasn't painful, your soul was singing a symphony of emotion, "No," you said weakly, your eyes moved to Rhys and you nodded, he told you he was only a shout away if you needed him and then left.

Cassian drank you in, the lifeless eyes and limp hair, the greyish hue to your skin, the dark bags under your eyes, he noted the way the clothes you wore hung from your frame and the way your cheeks sunk into the bone, and he broke, "Y/N, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I never should have said those things to you, I don't know what I was thinking," Tears streamed down his cheeks and it hurt you to see him that way, "You're not clingy or obsessed, I know you were trying to look out for me. You always look out for me."

"I love every single thing about you. I love the way my jumpers drown you and coat you in my scent, I love it when you wait for me to come home, I love the way fire spreads through me whenever you touch me. I love everything that you are. I'm so sorry that I've done this to you. You deserve the world and everything good in it, you deserve so much better than me," his words were floating between broken sobs, he tried to move to you and visibly winced when you took a step back, "You are my everything. You are the one who completes me, you are the one I search for whenever I enter a room, you are the only one who I feel safe with."

"My home is wherever you are, you are my home and I know I've fucked up and I understand if you never want to speak to me again. I just need you to know that I'm sorry. If I have to leave Velaris for you to feel safe then I will, I-"

"Why would you do that?" you voice called to him, you took a single step forward and examined him, he was distraught, "I went to find you that morning, to apologise for being so suffocating," you cringed at the word, at how it had made you feel when he had thrown it at you, "But you were gone."

Cassian took a step closer to you, "I knew what I'd done, I saw what I'd done to you and I couldn't see you look at me like that again. I wanted to protect you from me, I needed to get you away from me."

You wrapped your arms around your frame and found his eyes, his beautiful pools of rippling sadness screaming for you, "I don't need protecting from you, Cass. I just need you," you tucked a strand of your wet hair behind your ear and continued, "I don't know why I cling to you, it hurts to be away from you, I feel like my body is dying when you leave me. It feels like my soul is being ripped from my body and I can't breathe when you're gone. I'm nothing without you. I can't live without you."

Cassian had closed the gap between you, his hands finding a place on your hip and under your chin and he tilted your head upward, his eyes searched your face, delving into the deepest depths of your thrumming soul and his eyes widened, "Y/N," his voice was a whisper, his thumb glided across your cheek and you found yourself leaning into the touch, soaking up the affection like a sponge in the ocean.

Bottom lip wobbling, he took your face in his hands, "I think I know why you've been feeling like that."

Cassian's breath fanned across your face and you inhaled deeply, you felt your soul melting, all of the sadness now a painful memory, you felt hot white starlight and the shifting of those golden threads, webbing your essence together until it jolted into place. The snap. Cassian continued to hold you in his arms and your fingers brushed against his jaw, "We're mates," it was a fact, and he nodded.

"We're mates," a tear slid down his cheek, and you knew he felt all of your pain in that moment, "I promise that I will take care of that heart of gold for the rest of my days. I promise to love you endlessly until you tell me to stop," he rested his forehead against yours, "I knew it was you, I knew it was us."

"Meant to be," Cassian huffed out a gentle sigh and brushed his nose against your own before dipping his lips to meet yours.

It was better than you could have ever imagined, you felt your souls merging together into one, you felt the world grow lighter and your heart grow fuller, you felt your scent combining into something that could drown continents. You felt him.

And as long as you both lived, there would never be a day where either of you felt unloved.

Authors Note

Jeeeeez!

Love these requests, they make me so happy x

@jenniferpendragon @acourtof-wingspan

[thesilmarillionblog]

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part:𝟷𝟼

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: +18! (MINORS DNI), angst, hurt, language, mention of sexual assault (the deep, homelander)

Word Count: 5002

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

You did your best to ignore Ben throughout the past week, despite the fact that you have not spoken much. Despite your immediate interruption, Ben was eager to continue his conversation with you. Furthermore, with all of the Vought business, things were becoming crazy. Not much had changed with Mindstorm, even though you and Ben continued to appear on TV every night on the news.

Ben was difficult to deal with and had a difficult personality in general. Now he was willing to get a little intimate, and he wasn't pushing you away this time, which left you confused and angry. In the past, you always pushed hard to be with him in every minute and every second, as if you were obsessed with him, even though he was occasionally distant from you when he didn't like being with you. If he had stayed as the same jerk from decades before, it would be simpler.

Actually, you were upset with yourself for allowing yourself to be affected by him. It was quite simple for him to show you compassion and behave as though he genuinely cared about you. It's highly likely that you were the most naive or stupid person to fall for him. You had admitted to him that you no longer loved him, and you weren't even ready to be honest with yourself about it. But at least you knew this: you shouldn't forget the damage that he had done to your heart since it was far more severe and strong than anything he had ever made you feel.

“Hey, it looks like you're deep in thought. Are you alright?” As you two watched a movie together, Annie asked. 

Ben, Hughie, and Butcher had gone shopping before coming back. Ben asked you to go out with them since you haven't left the house for a very long time, but even though you really wanted to go out, you refused to spend time with them, with him in fact. As much as you could hear, Frenchie and Kimiko were in their rooms playing video games.

“I wasn't,” you held your head in a mumble. “Maybe I'm just tired.”

“It seems like you're missing going out,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “You know, things may be a little rough around these places, but you wouldn't be noticed. You can take in some fresh air.”

You gave her a meek grin and lied, saying, “I'm not in the mood.” You were actually itching to leave the house and breathe some fresh oxygen. It was as though you were choosing to be in a cage. “It's better to stay here until things get a bit better at least.”

“I actually don't know if it will though, but let's hope.”

Annie went on, “By the way, I'm sorry for my attitude toward you, weeks earlier. I suppose I was a little impolite, rude, and judgmental of you.”

Her abrupt admission and apology surprised you, but it also made you feel a little better. You whispered, “It's okay; I would be meaner if I were in your shoes. I am aware that trusting someone is difficult.”

“Yeah, but I feel bad about it,” she added, looking shy and placing her hands on her legs. “I should not have treated you the same way since I know how comfortable the firm is with lying to the public about you for the sake of themselves. The things I went through while I was a member of the Seven were similarly horrible. It wasn't right to judge you right away, not when I know the dynamics between the public and the firm and how it feels.” 

Her genuineness toward you made your heart melt. “It's actually not that bad. Don't let it bother you. I'm simply relieved that you don't feel the same way about me anymore.” You asked her gently, wanting to build a connection, “What have they done to you?”

She inhaled deeply, looked around the room as if she were searching for words, and then blurted out, “I am..sexually assaulted.” 

You whispered, “Oh, god,” and supportively touched her hand. “Can I ask... who?”

“I'm not sure if you've seen him on television. The Deep,” she muttered scornfully. “And Homelander is no different than him.”

“Yes, I did see him on television. Fucking bitch fish,” you mumbled. “You mean Homelander is the same as him. Is he also..?”

“Don't tell Butcher that I told you; don't actually mention it ever, but his wife was raped by Homelander.”

Your mouth dropped open in disbelief, and you were silent for a long moment.

“That is.. horrible. I have absolutely no idea what to say.” At last, you murmured, “I can't believe Vought is full of disgusting vile men,” remembering Butcher's expression when you had questioned him about Homelander. He was quite right and had his own reason.

“Yes,” Annie said in a sour tone. “No matter how many decades have passed, Vought is still the same asshole, whether you're a Supe woman or not. In actuality, they have gotten worse.”

“Leaving them behind was the right decision, and having Hughie with you is a gift.” You mentioned their relationship in an attempt to lighten the mood. “He seems like a very gentle and kind guy,” you remarked. “It's a good thing he's not supe. He has to understand who is in charge.”

Annie blushed and laughed when you brought up her lover. “Yeah, he's unlike anyone else. He's one of the key reasons I am here. I'm happy we got to meet.”

“By the way,” she muttered in a lighthearted manner. “What about Soldier Boy and you? It's obvious there is something between you two, even if I know you're going to deny it. Do you have a friends with benefits thing?” 

Confused, you asked, “What is it?”

“Well, it's just a term for people you know who have sex but continue to be friends. You don't grow any feelings or attachments for each other. It's all about sex.”

After considering the phrase she used a moment to reflect, you finally responded, “No, no, actually we are not something like that.” Leaning back in the coach, you whispered, “It's a bit complicated, actually,” as you recalled every memory you had of him. Your cheeks heated and your heart raced as you recalled the last conversation you had with him, the time you orgasmed on top of him. 

Annie may have noticed the shift in the body and smiled slyly, “It's probably not that difficult. But I had assumed that he was with the Crimson Countess. They must have been fan favorites or something.”

Annie's mention of Crimson made you uneasy. Because Ben had chosen her over you, knowing she was gone didn't provide you any comfort. You felt awful, thinking back on those dreadful times and how badly Ben had broken your heart. It was difficult to embrace such memories. 

You murmured, “We were a thing,” and acknowledged it. “Before Countess joined Payback.”

She just exclaimed, “Oh,” in an astonished tone, after realizing what you meant. “He's a vile asshole.”

“Yeah,” was all you said. “So, we are no longer a thing. Until that situation gets solved, I'm just going to hide like this, like a submissive rat. I don't want to deal with anything, but I'm not sure what to do after. Though I sincerely hope you succeed in eliminating the Seven—especially those bastards—I no longer want to be a part of it. I hope you can understand my reasons.”

“Obviously, you don't have to participate in anything or do anything, but your strength and assistance would be really helpful. It will be simple to make amends after Homelander dies, and you'll be free. I only hope Soldier Boy can kill him off. If not, we're not even sure what to do.”

“He made a deal with Butcher and promised him to kill Homelander.” You were aware of Ben's strength, and you could not see any other Supe being able to damage or beat him. “Once he made up his mind for something, Ben never stops until he gets it done.” 

Annie responded, "That's a relief," and she smiled a little. "Hey, let's not miss the movie," she murmured, gazing at the TV.

You nodded and offered her a feeble smile. You quickly grabbed your phone off the pillow when you noticed a notification, glancing at Annie as she got back to eating popcorn and watching TV.

Naturally, it was Ben who sent the message.

“?Do you need something????”

How considerate.

After giving Annie one more look, you leaned back on the coach to take up a more comfortable position.

You typed, “No.” after giving it some thought and then waited for another notification.

He was typing, typing, typing and typing.. It was taking taking him to write something for so long you got frustrated at some point. Then you finally got another notification.

“?Sure?????”

Asshole. Instead of punching your phone, you took a long breath. Although you were itching to argue with him over the phone, you tried to divert your attention to the movie Annie was watching.

You received another notification almost five minutes later. Ben had sent a blinking eye emoji. It seemed as though he was aware of how angry you were at the moment. You let out an irate sigh, grabbed your phone, and informed Annie that you would be in your room.

With a sense of relief that your period had finally ended, you took a shower. Ben knocked on your door, which was already open, and you made a tiny sound to let him in just as you were getting out of the shower, wrapped in a short towel. 

“Hey,” he remarked in a low voice, clearing his throat and quickly shutting the door to ensure that no one would see you half naked and wet. Ben went straight to your room after learning that Annie and Hughie would be staying tonight. It surprised you that he didn't argue with them about his bedroom. “Why is your door open all the time? Someone might have saw you; you're almost naked.”

As you kept using the towel to dry your hair, you rolled your eyes at him. “If someone was watching me, I'd known it, Ben.”

“And,” you said as you raised an eyebrow. “Someone is already watching.”

Ben inhaled deeply as he searched for a way to express how you had managed to rile him up. Okay,.

“It's not the same,” he asserted in a quiet yet assured tone as he observed you discarding the towel you used to dry your hair on the bed and opening the wardrobe to find something to wear. “And why didn't you text me back?”

You muttered, “Tell me how it's different.” and glanced at him as he approached cautiously, his fingertips resting on the furniture. “And well, because I was busy.”

“You already know why,” he remarked, licking his lips as he kept examining your body. Refusing to remember your orgasm on top of him while you were just getting your period was making him hard. Considering that you had never had a period while being together for a considerable amount of time, he questioned why you would now be getting one after all this time. 

You merely replied, “No, I don't know,” hoping to provoke him just a little bit. 

He continued shamelessly, “We fucked and still get off together; that's why, baby,” and you blushed. “Though we are not very active compared to the past, which is upsetting of course.” 

You opened your lips to deny and dispute with him, but you stopped yourself after taking a deep breath. You knew he would try hard to make your cheeks blush even more. 

You found a t-shirt and some underwear, which you put on the bed while you shut the wardrobe. At last, you were able to remember Annie's comments and say, “We were friends with benefits.” 

If you were the same person today, you would actually detest the idea, but since you are more grounded in reality, you can accept the circumstances as they are. In contrast to you, he had never developed feelings for you, which proved Annie. 

“What the hell is that?” Ben asked in an angry tone. He thought your statement sounded terrible and didn't like it at all. Ben sat on your bed as you hurriedly put on your t-shirt and underwear. Ben's hard look on your bare back was palpable. 

“It means engaging in sexual activity without developing an emotional bond. You maintain your friendship while having sex nevertheless.” You essentially gave him an explanation of it as though you'd known about it for a long time. “Getting off together is included.” 

Ben winced as you described the most idiotic and stupid type of relationship as though it were the most ordinary thing imaginable. “Who taught you such stupid stuff?” He asked furiously, unable to help but feel irritated that you weren't bothered by it. 

“Annie told me about it.”

Ben groaned as he removed his shoes and lay down on your bed. “It's not shocking that an ignorant woman is bombarding your thoughts with modern nonsense. I should have known only she could say such a stupid fucking thing. That must be her relationship with Hughie. Fuck, it's not shocking that he can't open his mouth while he is with her. What a fucking weak pussy.”

“Oh, god, don't talk about them in this way. Ben, they have a connection, a real one, a healthy one,” you murmured as he spoke in the most irritating tone imaginable. It was annoying that he didn't even take into account the nature of your previous relationship. “For the record, he is not concealing his relationship with Annie and vice versa. She really did walk out of the Seven. The company most likely had no approval of their relationship.”

“Touché,” he replied, observing your face fall as you sat on the bed and cast a dejected glance in his direction. He continued, “But our relationship was... health too,” when you turned away from him and lay down in bed.

You mumbled, “Sure,” and settled up in bed as comfortably as possible. Ben's huge and strong body was covering the majority of already limited space. It took a lot of work to stay away from him. 

Ben sighed as he watched your back longingly and heard your slow, deep breathing, as if you were holding back all you wanted to say. He was prepared to start over, make adjustments, and put things right even though he knew he deserved your attitude and that it would be preferable to push them beneath the debris, but he wanted you back so badly.

Ben finally murmured, “I care about you,” struggling to find the right words. “Very much.”

Ben tried to tell you how he felt, but it was difficult because you were constantly pushing him away. 

You quickly turned to face him since you didn't want to look at the walls any longer. “Did you care about me when you fucked Countess?” 

“Oh god, I didn't even fuck her,” he exclaimed harshly as soon as you brought up the redhead wily bitch. Because Stan Edgar was causing so much trouble, he should have killed him. 

When he revealed that he hadn't fucked Crimson before, you gasped. You just kept staring at him in bewilderment and surprise, as though you were about to dispute with him. You managed to whisper, “Liar,” not sure if he was telling you the truth or not. 

With an upset voice, he added, “Fuck, I'm not lying,” and he placed his right hand under his head. “I was told to have a relationship with her for the media by Stan fucking Edgar. Son of a bitch.” 

Ben was telling you the truth, and you could tell by the look in his eyes. You had no idea what to say at all because he was acting so very serious right now. You always assumed they were going all the way since they were always kissing when they were together and posing for pictures with the media. 

“Why didn't you tell me this before?” you asked, glancing out the window behind you as Ben hesitated. 

“I know, it's still unfair,” Ben said, attempting, though he was never very successful, to express himself. “I wasn't fair to you. You remain the last woman I have touched, even after all this time. I'm not sure if that means anything now. That's all I need you to know.”

You mumbled, “It's still cheating, Ben.” After his admission regarding Crimson, words were difficult to come by. You didn't want to admit it, but it did feel a bit better knowing he didn't touch Crimson Countess.

Ben opened his mouth to deny it, but then he sighed as he saw your look, which was a mix of disappointment and sorrow. There was no turning back to undo the damage he had done. What was done was done. He only hoped he could figure out a way to get your love back the way it used to be—with all of your devotion, passion, honesty, and loyalty. 

You asked gently, almost in a desperate tone that would make you loathe yourself, “Why did you leave me?”

As he saw how vulnerable you were, Ben softened his gaze and shifted positions in the bed, hesitantly moving closer to your face. Thankfully, you didn't even flinch, instead looking at him expectantly, as if you were ready to forgive him and let everything go. But he was aware that you were not yet prepared for that. You needed time, and he could give you everything you needed.

Ben found it difficult to speak as his fingers gently traced your hand. When he finally confessed, “Stan Edgar knew our relationship,” he was unwilling to tell you how much he was mistaken about you and how manipulating he was about you at the time.

You asked gently, “Did he want you to be with Crimson?” as if you understood him. 

It wasn't necessary for you to know how Stan Edgar found out about you. It would be shocking if Stan was unaware of you and Ben during the final months of your relationship because you two were acting quite recklessly. 

“Yeah,” he responded simply, meeting your eyes with his darkened ones. He seemed ready to act as he continued to study your wet lips and hair. 

His face continued to inch closer to yours as his one hand traced around yours, but you remained motionless. He was cautiously gauging your response every second. 

You mumbled, “Yet,” unable to stop your heart from racing when he was that close. “I don't want to love you ever again.”

With a groan, his soft lips found yours before you could even finish your sentence, and you were left wondering who started the kiss first.

When he eventually realized you had kissed him back, even if it seemed like your kisses were doubtful and ghostly, his hard and tight hands on yours loosened. His tongue slipped into your mouth as he noticed you were willing to go one step further, intensifying the kisses.

When your hands came to rest on his thick beard, it was unclear who was moaning more loudly in the other's mouth. The way he kissed you was different from the other kisses you shared; it was more intimate, but there was still this passion. Perhaps it was because it had been too long.

This time, Ben's hands weren't as strong or harsh; instead, they were surprisingly patient, understanding, and caring.

Your hands stopped behind his thick neck and slid to his powerful and warm chest, and he slowly pushed you against the pillow and went on top of you, making sure everything was done correctly and that you were completely alright with it.

For a brief time, you withdrew yourself to catch your breath while your hands lingered around his clothed chest, perhaps in anticipation of his response. As you both gasped deeply, his swollen lips waited on yours. You both gave a loud groan as soon as he pressed his hardness between your legs. Your legs involuntarily spread a little to give him space to move, and your heart began to race.

His lips were waiting on yours as his hands were fisted in the blankets, but he wasn't kissing you as if he were savoring this private time. He remained motionless and patient as you lifted your hips in an attempt to create friction.

He pulled his hips back, and before you could complain, he smacked his clothed hardness between your legs, causing you to gasp and grab onto his back with your fingers, holding onto his t-shirt. He went above you, but he didn't keep kissing you; instead, you were only touching lips and quietly moaning at one another's mouths. 

With a grumble, he pulled back his hips and gave your covered pussy another firm stroke. “Do you like this?” he asked as he repeated the movement.

Rather than responding verbally, you nodded in agreement and waited for him to continue. 

Ben stopped moving, gave you the command, “Tell me,” and waited on top of you.

You elevated your hips to create the same friction once more and muttered, “Yes,” weakly.

Your body needed to relax even though you weren't sure if you were ready for sex. Ben and his supe hearings have recently made your fingers unfamiliar with your pussy.

With one hand slipping under your t-shirt and his eyes fixed intently on you, he repeated, “Do you need me to make you come?”

Ben's hands carefully lifted your t-shirt. When your tits were exposed to his sight, he ran his fingers over one of your nipples, which made you gasp. 

He observed you intently, picking up on every facial emotion you made as he caressed your nipple. 

With a rough voice, he said, “You like it when I play with your tits, don't you?” Taking pleasure in watching you try to get some friction from his hardness by desperately lifting your hips to meet his. He was aware of your precise needs. “If you tell me to suck your nipple, I will.”

You gave him a quiet sigh into his mouth and pleaded with him with your eyes. He was enjoying seeing you like this, at his mercy. He knew exactly what you wanted. Even though Ben didn't do anything at all, you felt so close, even if it was difficult to force yourself to come. Being that near to him and tense while he was merely fiddling with your tits was embarrassingly good. 

“Tell me, baby.” You gasped in delight as he said, “I'll do anything you want,” and put his thumb to your hardened nipple. 

Please,” you eventually pleaded, desperately staring into his eyes. 

Ben sighed, grinned a little, lowered his head to rest on your body, kissed your breast, and started to suck so hard your entire body shook with ecstasy. Your hips lifted in anticipation as your fingers closed on his hair, forcing his head against your tits even more.

The sounds of wetness flooding the room as Ben was moaning around your nipple was filthy. As he played with your nipple with his tongue and licked it, his other hand gave you a hard squeeze, and you felt your walls tighten.

“Oh, Ben,” you let out a loud cry. He groaned loudly in delight as you pulled his messy hair. Your face reddened, and your heart began to rush rapidly.

This time you groaned in protest when he withdrew. You gasped sharply, leaving you on edge with burning cheeks as you glanced at Ben. Your fingers trembled in his hair.

Ben smiled at you because he could see you were desperate for him to continue, and he could also smell your swollen, aroused pussy leaking under your underwear.

With a quick sigh, he exclaimed, “Let me go down on you,” causing your eyes to widen. “I fucking need you to cum in my mouth so bad right now.”

His suggestion made you feel so shy that you released your grip on his hair and put your hands on his chest. 

You said, “But we... didn't do such thing before,” unsure of if he was really willing or not.

As he adjusted your t-shirt as he added, “I know, I know, that's my fault,” and then his fingers stopped on your underwear. “That's something I need to fix immediately.”

He kissed you firmly on the lips after noticing your hesitant and bashful expression and waited for you to answer. “Let me make you come.” 

You nodded briefly to him after a while and anxiously awaited his next move. You were a little anxious since you didn't know if he would really want it or would back out in the middle because he hadn't gone down on you before. 

Between kisses, Ben leaned down on your body and murmured, “Look at me,” causing you to gasp in shock as he planted a wet kiss on your covered pussy. You couldn't decide if his touch was making you too sensitive or too responsive. It felt like there was a lot of leaking beneath your underwear. 

He placed your legs on his shoulder and pulled your panties aside, revealing your wet pussy to his eyes and making you flinch for a moment while you continued to stare at him with flushed cheeks.

Excitedly, you put your hands on the sheets and waited for him to continue.

Before you could react, his warm lips reached your pussy lips. You gasped and tried to move your hips, but he stilled your body as he proceeded to kiss your clit. “Fuck, I missed your beautiful little wet cunt so much,” he muttered.

Ben's balls were hurting and his thick cock was twitching beneath his boxers, but he did his best not to remove it and stroke himself while he used his lips to fuck your swollen pussy. Now, your needs took priority.

Ben began to suck your pussy with a full tongue as you squeezed your lips together and clenched your hands into fists. You tried to shift your legs away from his shoulders, but he stopped you right away and sucked harder.

You let out a loud gasp as your hands found his hair and pulled his head closer, pressing it even closer to your pussy, just as Ben suddenly pressed his tongue into your hole. For an instant, you sensed his lips curled around your pussy, and he proceeded to fuck you with his tongue. Your voice was shaky as you began to murmur his name, your back arched.

Your legs trembled on his shoulders as he waited for your cum to fill his lips, pressing his tongue even farther into your hole. You began to cum into his mouth with a loud moan, unable to hold back yourself any longer. You were under so much pressure in that instant that you were about to cry for two reasons: excitement and embarrassment at not being able to contain yourself for even two minutes. You were unsure of the previous time your climax had struck so strongly.

You tried to push his head away from your body and adjust yourself, but he held you firmly and let you ride your orgasm into his mouth to the very end. “I'm sorry,” you muttered in a panicked and embarrassed manner. 

He planted a hard kiss on your clit, cleaned you off with his mouth, and adjusted your underwear when your orgasm subsided and felt too sensitive. 

“You taste so fucking sweet, I should have done this sooner,” he remarked, kissing your forehead for a long time after licking his lips. Though Ben's cock was hurting under his sweatpants and he was extremely hard, he knew that his desires could wait and that this wasn't the exact moment. 

While Ben's hands waited on the both side of your belly softly, you made a move to get rid of him, but he gently stopped you, saying playfully, “Hey, wait wait, what about a pillow talk?”

“I need to clean myself,” you murmured weakly, still feeling shy for letting yourself go in his mouth without a warning and too soon.

“I've already cleaned you up good, baby. You don't have to be worried about that.” He waited on top of you, with a smile on his face. Both of your hearts were still racing.

“Sorry,” you muttered shyly. “I didn't- couldn't warn you.”

“Come on,” Ben exclaimed, grinning broadly and sincerely. “I already tried to make you cum in my mouth. You did incredibly well. That's something I can do every night.”

He moved both of your bodies in the bed when you stopped moving beneath him. Without a word, you turned your back on him before he could embrace you. 

Ben moved to get close to you and held you in his powerful arms despite the bed's small size. You weren't strong enough to be hurt again, but your heart melted when his hands paused on your stomach and he hissed again behind your head. 

Knowing that his compassion was always accompanied by cruelty, you answered, "That doesn't make a difference, Ben. I still don't want to love you." 

Rather than responding to you straight away, he took a big breath, gripped your body tightly, and said, "I know."

Next Chapter

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A/N: I hope we are good so far.. Comments and reblogs are very appreciated. They keep me going. ^.^

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[m2ok]

Golden Salvation Pt.2

pt. 1 Pt.2

cowboy!Ghost x m! reader

A/N: There will be one more part to this just to wrap everything up :)

Your pulse thundered in your ears as the stranger loomed closer, hand gripping lethal iron at his hip. Fight or flight instincts kicked into overdrive - this was no ordinary burglary; you could see it etched in every predatory line of his body.  

This man had come for blood, your blood.  

Slowly, you raised your hands in a gesture of peace even as your mind raced. One wrong move and you’d be pushing up daisies come morn. These were the dark shadows Simon lived in, the enemies he’d made through his notorious work. And now they were coming for him...through you.  

.“Don’t want no trouble, mister,” you said, keeping your tone calm and even like you didn't know why this man was here. As if there could be any other reason for someone to break into a home as dingy as your own. “Just a simple bartender is all – barely got a dollar to my name”  

This snake didn't need to know how deep your bond with Simon went, especially since hiding your relationship was the only way you could see to get out of this situation.  

The man cackled at your words, rolling his eyes as the smile dropped and he stalked closer to the bed, aiming the gun at you as he cocked it back with a sickening crack.  

“ Mhm... as if you weren't all nice and cozied up to him not mere hours ago – ya really think im gonna believe you?” He gave you a mocking grin 

 “No no im not stupid sweetheart. Im not here to collect any of his debts from you – I care more about the eight men o’ mine your Ghostie killed. Those boys were my family, he didnt think twice about that though when he shot em’ dead where they stood. Figure I should make him feel the same hurt I do, hm?”  

“You won’t hurt him none-” You tried to reason “His heart don't belong to me, he won’t spare a second glance past this cabin. Hell, He's probably halfway across the desert by now” Your voice was shaky as you spoke, lies seeping through your lips at the risk of your life. You knew what you meant to Simon, no one else was able to get into his space as you did- at least not if they wanted to walk away with their life.  

The man's smirk dropped, new anger burning in his eyes as the grip on his gun tightened, “I saw the way that mongrel looked at you, you’re his boy and that's clearer than any mountain river” he scoffed, finger moving from the side of the gun to rest on the trigger.  

You closed your eyes, praying in your head, but not to any god. No, your prayers were aiming for Simon's rescue, praying that he would somehow know you were in trouble and come rescue you from it. 

Simon sat astride his horse on a dusty ridge, watching the moon rise silver over the desert wastes. A half-smoked cigarette dangled idly from his lips; he’d been nursing the same thoughts over and over since dusk fell heavy as a shroud across the badlands.  

 Thoughts of you.  

Somewhere deep in his gut, an uneasy feeling roiled. Like an invisible string tugging at his soul, trying to tug him back the way he came. Simon growled low in his throat, frustrated with his own foolish longings. You’d made your stance clear – this life wasn’t for you, not truly. And he had no right to ask you to join him.  

And yet... 

A crack suddenly split the still night air. So faint and far that any lesser man may have missed it entirely, but not Simon.  

In an instant he was vaulting onto his horse’s back, boots pounding twin paths in the dirt as they flew towards the distant lights of your little town. Another shot rang out, louder now, and Simon’s blood turned to ice in his veins.  

He knew that sound – deep in his bones he knew something was horribly wrong.  

Choking the reins in a near stranglehold, Simon rode as if all the demons of hell were nipping at his horse’s hooves. Towards you. Towards salvation or damnation, he did not know. But by God, no son of a bitch was gonna harm one hair on your head if he could still help it.  

Help was coming- you just had to hold on.  

The man fired the gun, a sharp sting hitting your side before it blossomed into agonizing pain. You let out a pained cry, one hand instinctively going to land on your wound while the other covered your mouth to muffle your sobs. Your hand was soon coated in dark crimson, entire body shaking with adrenaline as the man cocked the gun once more.  

“Was gonna just end you, but I figured I should make this painful the same way he did. Should fill you with so many bullets he won’t be able to recognize you” he hissed, aiming the gun at your other side.  

Simon was little more than a blur of dust and primal fury as he crashed through the remains of your splintered front door. For a split second, time seemed to freeze – taking in the scene with a single, piercing gaze.  

You,curled onto the bed clutching a bloody wound. And him. That snake. Gun pressed sickeningly against your body as he spewed his venomous threats. With an almost guttural roar, Simon’s Colt leapt into his hand like it was part of his very being. Two blooming shots rang as one; his aim was true as bible scripture.  

The intruder pitched backwards, scarlets blossoms exploding from where his eyes once were. He was dead before he hit the floor.  

But Simon saw none of it. Already he was at your side, tatty serape ripped and pressed desperately against your weeping injury. Brown eyes wild and scared met your own, and for a moment the steely outlaw facade slipped entirely.  

“Darlin’...” he choked, voice thick. “Talk to me, baby. Stay with me now, ya hear?” Working frantically to stem the flood, Simon tangled scarred fingers gently through your hair, anchoring you to this world with his touch alone. 

“That’s it…keep breathin’, just keep breathin’” His voice dissolved into ragged prayers mere ghosts could hear. Help was still minutes away - but for now, you had Ghost. And he’d be damned before he let the reaper take you from him. 

You were sobbing, your brain mangled with confusion and fear as the adrenaline ran out and the full pain of the bullet lodged in your abdomen had you reeling, 

Red painted everything around you, hands, clothes, and sheets underneath you drenched in it. 

“Simon-” you rasped, breathing labored as you looked around with wide eyes at the gruesome scene in front of you. It was too much, you could feel your head going light- brain fuzzy and ears ringing as you fought not to close your eyes. 

“It hurts” you choked, trying to shove his hand away from where he was pressing down on the wound to stop the torrent of blood flowing out. “Simon I cant-” you said, throat raw from the sobs that came out. 

You wanted so badly to stay with him, to be able to wake up tomorrow with him, but you didn’t know if you’d get that with the way you felt your strength leave your body.

“It hurts- it hurts” You were almost begging, for what you didn’t know. You just wanted the pain to go away. 

You were terrified- not ready to die yet, and especially not like this, not when you had so much left to do. The thought alone sent a new set of tears streaming down your face, hand shaking- clutching the bleeding wound on top of Simon’s own to try and ebb the pain that burrowed deep in your skin. 

Simon felt his world crumbling as your agonized crimes tore through him, sharper than any bullet ever could. Seeing you in such anguish ripped open a fissure in his battered heart, letting the demons of his deepest guilt and self-loathing spill forth in a torrent. 

“I know, baby, I know it hurts…” he choked, pressing you close as if trying in vain to absorb your pain into himself. His own broad shoulders shook with ghosts of rage and grief, tears cutting rivulets through the dirt caked on his cheeks. 

Goddamn it all, he should’ve been here. Should have followed his instincts and never left your side. Now it may be too late to hope for forgiveness, your blood staining his hands a brand of failure he could never outrun. 

“Please, darlin’, please hold on…’ Simon begged, voice breaking as he spoke. His bandana was wrung out and useless now - in desperation he moved to cradle you fully, applying trembling pressure with his bare hands and what remained of his coat. 

Distantly he heard the clatter of the approaching horses, but paid them no heed. You were fading, slipping away before his eyes, and all the strength and guns in the world couldn’t stop it. 

“Don’t ye leave me now…I can’t do this world without ya…” A broken whisper, barely audible above the thunder in his ears. Simon pressed his forehead to yours, sharing the same ragged breaths, two souls more tangled than any root or vine. Hanging on a blade’s edge against the dark. 

You stared up into Simon's eyes, eyebrows cinched in pain and eyes soaked with fear. 

“I don’t wanna die, Simon” you whispered, voice shaky as you clung to him - like he alone could save you from this fate. 

You could feel your heartbeat slowing, breathing ragged as you gasped for air that just wouldn’t enter your lungs….

Soon enough the doctor burst into the room, medical kit in hand as he came barreling over to you. He very carefully took you out of Simon’s arm with some convincing, to lay you back on the bed before he opened up his kit. 

He handed you a flask filled with whiskey “You’re gonna want to drink this - it’ll help ease the pain” He said. 

With shaky hands you drank the bottle, a scream ripping from your lungs as the man began to carefully dig into the wound, grabbing hold of the bullet with sterile tweezers before carefully pulling it free. 

With practiced care he cleaned the wound, a harsh whimper leaving your lips at the sting of pain before the wound was stitched up and bandaged. 

You were shaking, sobbing so hard your throat was raw and your lungs burned - the pain was unbearable and a large part of you wished you could just die to get away from it. 

The doctor had you drink another flask, the alcohol numbing the pain receptors in your brain just enough to allow you to fall into a light sleep. 

Simon sat vigil at your bedside through what felt like hours, not letting go of your limp hand once. Your cries of pain echoing loud and endlessly in his mind, driving spikes of pure anguish deep into his soul.

He watched in heavy silence as the doctor worked, breath caught tight in his chest, hardly daring to hope. But then - your ragged breaths evened out, color returning sluggishly to waxen cheeks. Alive. You were alive. 

It was nearly two hours later when the man was done, wiping his hands on a rag as he stood up on shaky legs. 

“He’s stable” The doctor said simply

Choking back sobs of relief, Simon buried his face in the crook of your neck, leaving a trail of gratitude-laced kisses amongst salty tears. “That’s it, darlin’...you fight. Got too much left to do in this world.” he’d whisper to you, voice so soft only you could hear

 “Most important thing now is cleaning that wound twice a day lest it get infected. If it does…” The doctor ordered, his words trialing off though his intentions were clear. He put down a set of bandages and cleaning solution on the nightstand for Simon’s use. 

“It’ll take a long time to heal, I reckon” The doctor said “but my work is done here, y’all know where to reach me should he take a turn for the worst” He said, tilting his hat to Simon before he gathered his tools and headed out of the shabby cabin. 

Simon took the doctor's words as gospel, nodding along to every word before the man left. He spent the next few hours cleaning up the mess that was now your little home. He dragged the body out back to deal with fully in the morning, cleaned your sheets and changed you into new clothes, boarded up the broken window, and finished by fixing the door that he had come barging through. 

His own hands were gentle as churches doing their appointed duty, cleansing and dressing the angry wound each time without fail. Whatever it took to coax your stubborn spirit back to the land of the living. 

Days bled into each other without notice. All that mattered to him now was you. And slowly, so slowly - full color seeped back, fever broke its hold. Eyes fluttered open to meet his own once more, full of pain but oh-so-blessedly alive. 

“Hey there, sunshine…” Simon whispered hoarsely, like a parched man dying of thirst at an oasis. Finally, finally, he allowed himself the ghost of a weary smile. 

You were going to be alright. And by God, he’d spend his last days making sure of it. 

You slowly sat up, a soft whine leaving your lips with the movements as you aggravated the still raw wound. “Simon” you mumbled as you held his hand, reaching over to take a swig of the whiskey on the nightstand to ease the searing pain. 

You rested your head back against the pillows with a soft sigh. It had been a few days now, and the pain was still a dull yet constant ache in your side. 

You took the sight around you in, everything was clean and neat including your bedding and clothes. Even the floor had been mopped, the only reminders of your near death being the hole in your side. 

“Simon you did all this?” You asked simply, eyes wide as you gazed up at him. 

Simon huffed a soft, weary laugh at your question, gently squeezing your hand just to make sure you were really here and he wasn’t hallucinating. 

“Course I did, darlin’. Weren’t about to let ya recover in filth,” He replied gruffly. Truth be told, tending to your every need had been the other thing keeping his demons at bay these long days and nights. 

Keeping busy spared him time to think - and thinking led down paths too bleak to tread. Like how terrifyingly close he’d come to losing you forever.

Holding your gaze with quiet intent, Simon softly brushed calloused knuckles along your cheek “Reckon it’s about time i started pullin’ my weight ‘round here proper. Ain’t no safe place for ya out here alone” A question lingered in the subtle quirk of his brow, the hopeful yet wary gleam in tired eyes. After all that had passed between you both, was there still room for him at your side? A Ghost finally ready to lay his soul to rest, if you’d have him. 

You could only hum softly at his words, sleep still filled in your bones. You didn’t answer him, instead you patted the empty side of the bed “Come sleep next to me, Si. You need the sleep” You said, your words a silent confirmation that you still wanted him. 

Simon gave a soft grunt of approval, too weary in body and soul to do anything but obey your gentle prompting. Careful not to jostle your healing injury, he stretched his long limbs out beside you with a satisfied sigh. 

It felt strange but right, sharing your space in such an intimate way after so long living apart. Like the final piece of a puzzle slipped neatly into place. 

Turning his head, Simon watched you watch him through half-lidded eyes, drinking in every beloved feature as if to confirm this wasn’t some whiskey-fueled dream. Reaching out, he lightly touched the graceful curve of your cheek before letting his hand come to rest against the steady rise and fall of your chest. 

“Sweetest sound there is,” he murmured, voice sleep-roughed and thick with meaning. A tousled head tucked itself beneath your chin with a contented sigh, tension seeping from tense muscles. 

Come what may with the light of dawn, for now all was peaceful. You were alive, you were safe. And against all odds, Simon had finally come home to roost. 

You held him close in your arms, gentle fingers carding through thick hair as you let his head rest against your now steady heartbeat. He needed the comfort, you could tell, and you were more than happy to give it to him. 

“Rest now, Si. I'm not going anywhere. Can’t get rid of me that easy” You assured, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. 

It was a funny thing, holding such a toughened man in your arms, keeping him close and coddled despite the almost laughable size difference. 

SImon made a low sound of gratitude at your soft reassurance, melting bonelessly into your gentle embrace. Your gentle fingers winding through his hair brought forth a wave of lethargy he’d fought to stave off this long week past. But no more - here in your arms, he was finally allowed to let his guard down. 

It still struck him sometimes how two souls so disparate could fit together so seamlessly. But you’d always had a way of easing even his most ragged edges, soothing demons he thought long beyond taming. Lithe as you were in your current state, your strength ran deeper than any show of force ever could - and he found solace there like nowhere else. 

“Missed this…” he mumbled, so soft it was barely audible even in the stillness enclosing your little world. One arm curled protectively around your middle, thumb brushing idle patterns against the slowly healing wound beneath the bandages. 

A prayer of thanks on parched lips, Simon let weary eyes slide shut. Sleep rose like a gentle tide, carrying him off to oblivion sheltered in the piece of heaven he’d begun to call home. You’d brought him back from the brink of darkness once more, anchor in the storm. And for that, he was eternally grateful. 

[vxmpjules]

˚ · • . ° ꫝ🇪 𝔞Ⓡ︎𝘁ᗷℯ𝕒꓄

⋆·˚ ༘ * " i don't believe in consistency"

C; Hobie brown ~ Spiderpunk x SpiderPerson!reader

Prns; Gender neutral, feminine traits.

Warnings; Mentions of hookups, no actual smut

As everyone knew Hobie wasn't consistent in anything, in his bands, friends, most stuff. Only consistent thing was his position as spider-punk, and surprisingly you, you two have been best friends since you met each other, you both instantly clicked.

You both where inseparable, both chaos in your own ways. You loved his opinion and care free style, and he loved well... Everything about you really.

One day things got heated and you both found warmth in each other. Which you knew was one of the worst mistakes you could've ever done, you should've never hooked up, it was wrong. You had told hobie to just keep things normal after that, no talking about it, nothing. You didn't want to ruin your friendship and turn it into something difficult, you couldn't fall in love with someone at this time, not with Hobie.

Until... You came crying, your canon event finally happened to you, and you found comfort in Hobies arms. It was something other than just some lazy hookup, this actually sparked something, and you regretted it again, Hobie started being kinda-ish different, he seemed more protective of you, or got cold when you mentioned you going on dates or finding other people attractive.

You thought to yourself that was just a normal friendship thing, but you couldn't deny those feelings either. But you ignored them and became more distant to Hobie, it was wrong and you felt horrible, you cared and loved Hobie, but it couldn't pass more of the best friends line.

This confused Hobie, he didn't know how to feel, he wasn't good with this whole romantic thing, sure he had his girlfriends before, but feeling something for someone so close to him, wasn't on his list. He felt frustrated because of you, you weren't helping, distancing yourself for no reason and being distant, he felt lost, he needed to do something quick.

You had a little boyfriend, which was a stupid decision, knowing that deep down the only boy you wanted was Hobie and you knew he want too. You just didn't know how to handle it, you ruined your relationships quickly, you where always with people you didn't like so it be easier to discard them, you never tried anything with Hobie because you didn't want to loose him, one wrong move and you could loose him forever, you where lucky enough he stayed by your side all this time.

Your boyfriend was making breakfast, as you walked around in one of Hobies shirts, not that your boyfriend would know so you didn't care. You had put your phone next to your boyfriend, being easy to see any notification or message that popped on your screen as you grabbed some orange juice to drink.

Just as you where drinking the juice a text from Hobie appeared on your screen, it wasn't anything bad really just a simple "When can i see you" but that could be misunderstood quickly, before you could grab your phone your boyfriend had already saw the message, with a furrowed brows he questioned "Who's Hobie?" With a sigh you say "Just a friend of mine" as you jump off the counter and take your phone with you.

Your boyfriend finished with the breakfast and served your plate before going up to you and kissing you before he left for work, Eating the breakfast you heard a soft knock on your window.

You raised your brown and went over to check the window, seeing hobie hanging upside down, with a sigh you open the window for him to enter, your heart beating faster at his presence. These times anything could happen with you both, but you knew that whatever happened you would distance yourself again.

"Hi" he greets, with his British accent as he makes himself at home and sits on your couch. "Hi 'bee" you greet back, using the nickname you gave him the first time you met, you eyed him, watching him scan the surroundings. Noticing someone else's shoes and jackets, from the last time he was here the only things that weren't your's were his. "Got someone here?" He innocently asks looking up to you, his heart beat faster at one of the polaroids taped on the wall.

Seeing you and another boy in the photo, both smiling happily. He kept looking at you waiting for an answer as his heartached, "That's my... Uhm my boyfriend" you respond as you look down, avoiding his gaze. "So that's what you've been doing all this time, eh?" He noted with a cold tone, he couldn't handle this, you stopped talking, hanging out with him for this idiot? He knew that deep down it should be him, the one in the picture with you, the one leaving his stuff in your house, the one making you breakfast, the one holding you tight all nights as you sleep, not some idiot.

You fidgeted with your fingers nervously, you couldn't look at him, at the only person you care about, the one that runs your mind 24/7. You felt guilty choosing some prick over him, you didn't want your boyfriend, you only wanted Hobie.

Hobie stood up the sofa, seeing you still gazing at the floor, walking over to you, he lifted you chin up for you to look at him. Your eyes where watery you didn't know what to do, your heart ached as you wrapped your hands around his neck. This was wrong, you where gonna hurt yourself and him.

Hobie took your chin and kissed you on the lips, giving you a soft and tender kiss, you leaned in his touch before he pulled away, he wiped one of your tears with his thumb before he said something that he shouldn't have said.

"I love you" he whispered with a small smile, before more tears left your eyes, you couldn't do this, "You shouldn't be here." You commented as you got away from him, nodding over at the window.

Hobie frowned at your words, he could almost feel some tears run down his own cheeks before leaving silently.

There's gonna b a part 2 lmao

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Growing Pains (S.R.)

Summary: When Spencer finds unfamiliar lingerie in the laundry, he didn’t realize how difficult it would be when he confronted his wife… and learned it didn’t belong to her, either. It belonged to their daughter. Request: reader and Spencer are happily married and have a 16-year daughter. She has a new boyfriend (her first boyfriend) and her parents are worried. They meet the boyfriend. A/N: Who doesn't love a little Dad!Spencer? Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Domestic Fluff (16+) Content Warning: Awkwardness, father & daughter relationship, protective Dad Spencer, lingerie, meeting the parents, firearms mention, Spencer finds his daughter’s lingerie and thinks his wife is cheating on him, it’s hard to explain, mentions of sexual themes, innocent kissing Word Count: 3.7k

There is something so mundane yet so serene about suburban life. That idyllic air that carried small bits of freshly mown grass and children’s laughter. That wasn’t to say that my life was uneventful, however.

After all, it would be nearly impossible to have a boring life while married to Spencer Reid.

But it was rare for me to feel any level of discomfort as I patrolled familiar halls. Mild annoyance, maybe, but never before had I felt such a sense of foreboding.

Not until that fateful day where I arrived home from errands to find that the clean laundry has already been pulled from the dryer. That in itself wasn’t bad—I was more than happy to let someone else do the folding—yet when I walked up the stairs, the hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention.

“Spencer?” I called.

“In here,” he answered without his normal enthusiasm.

Now that was unnerving.

The situation only got worse when I did finally open the door to find him awkwardly pacing around the room. My attention followed him back and forth a couple times before he came to a sudden stop.

“Hi honey,” I offered as gently as I could, “What’s up?”

“Hi,” he replied, still dejected and distant. He didn’t come any closer to me before he began fiddling with his fingers.

After a tense moment of silence, I asked again, more directly, “Are you alright, Spencer?”

“I have something very difficult to discuss with you, and I-I just want to ask for you to be patient with me.”

My heart sunk at the realization that the sense of foreboding was coming from him. The muscles straight up stopped beating, turned to rocks, and tumbled into my stomach.

I shook my head to try to stave off the stupor associated with shock.

“What are you talking about?” I asked because I needed to know just how much my simple suburban life was about to change.

Was he cheating on me? Was he going back to prison? Were their federal agents standing outside, ready to tear our family from our home?

When he finally began to speak, however, it was far from a satisfying explanation.

“I know I’m not always the best husband, and I know I can be absent and that the stress of the job and the kids and the state of the entire world, really, can get in the way of our time together,” he said with an increasing tempo.

“Spencer,” I said as a beg and a warning, “Just say it.”

He held his hands up in surrender as he pleaded back, “Please, just…”

I could feel my pulse in every extremity. My skin burned with blood and my lungs cried out for oxygen.

“I know you, I do,” he assured me before he continued, “and I know this sounds so unbelievably horrible for me to even accuse you of something like this, but…”

Me?

In that terrifying silence, I ran through our lifetime of memories to try to find something I might have done wrong. But no matter how hard I searched, I found nothing that might make him want to leave me like this.

Unless…

And then he said it.

“Are you… cheating on me?”

So quickly, my fear shifted to white-hot rage that came out of my mouth so ungracefully that I nearly knocked the lamp off the bedside table in my confusion.

“What?! No!” I shrieked, “Oh my god, what made you think that?!”

At first, Spencer relaxed. The veracity of my answer had been convincing because it had been true. But Spencer, clearly still concerned that I was somehow an award-worthy actress, continued to wring his hands together throughout his poorly planned confrontation.

“I, um… I found… lingerie. In the laundry,” he said with a tilted timbre. “And I know I’ve never seen it on you before, and I also know it wasn’t new.”

The busy blood in my veins immediately knew to cower. Before it had even struck me how utterly fucked I was, I was practically trembling with concern.

Spencer saw the fear, and instead of realizing it was about what he had no way of knowing, he interpreted it as a different kind of admission.

“So, whose is it?” he asked.

Stepping towards the bed, I motioned for him to take a seat. When he didn’t? I urged him, “Honey, sit down.”

“… Oh,” he muttered before practically collapsing on the bed.

Slightly annoyed by the dramatics, I rolled my eyes and sighed before I explained, “No, not that.”

He didn’t believe me, so I sighed again.

“Spencer, I am not cheating on you.”

That time, he sighed. I let him enjoy the brief reprieve before I threw him headlong into the worst kind of turmoil.

“What you found… isn’t mine,” I stated very clearly.

“But—?”

“It belongs to our daughter.”

The room fell silent. I watched as the realization dawned on him. Slowly, his glazed over eyes began to reflect the harrowing reality.

Then, all at once, his entire world came to a devastating end. Jumping up from his seat on the bed, Spencer grabbed his head and yelled in utter disbelief.

“What?!”

“Spencer, calm down,” I tried.

It didn’t work.

“What do you—she’s only 16! What do you mean it’s her—?!”

I watched from the sidelines as his brain short circuited. He tried to pace, but ended up just trapped in the same spot with flailing arms and wild hair.

Eventually, he settled on the question that had made me so nervous in the first place.

“Where did she even get it from?!”

“I bought it for her,” I said.

The fight left his body immediately. Spencer fell back on the bed and buried his face in his hands with a dramatic groan.

I sighed, again.

I was fully prepared to let him wallow in the grief of his daughter’s childhood, too. But then he had to go and say something silly again.

“Oh my god, I wish you had been cheating on me,” he strained, “That would have been so much easier than this.”

“Spencer!”

“I’m sorry!” he conceded immediately, “I didn’t mean it. I love you, I’m glad you aren’t cheating on me.”

Despite his well-intentioned apology, he remained inconsolable. I thought about giving him a moment to spiral, but I also knew that this was a bandaid that had practically fused into his skin.

At a certain point, it just became necessary for us to discuss it—with or without the dramatics.

“I know this is upsetting for you, but our daughter is almost a grown woman,” I explained to my pitiful husband who continued to make sounds of general protest. “I don’t want her to think of her body as anything less than something worth feeling good about.”

Finally popping up from behind his hands, he returned a bitter laugh.

“Okay, but is she doing it to make herself feel good, or to please some piece of shit asshole quarterback?” he spat.

He didn’t appreciate the way it made me laugh, but I couldn’t help it. It was a ridiculous notion and he deserved to be mocked for it. 

“Spencer, your daughter would not be interested in a quarterback.”

He knew I was right, but in typical Spencer fashion, he refused to admit it.

Instead, he just huffed, “How would I know?!”

But I knew he would, eventually, respond to reason, so I didn’t relent no matter how much he begged me to.

“Sex shouldn’t be a scary thing for a teenage girl! I wanted her to know she can feel comfortable telling me things. Like if she needs condoms or the pill or, heaven forbid—!”

“Oh my god, please stop,” he groaned, “Just, give me a second, please!”

I allowed him the moment because I knew he needed it.

Sure enough, after a couple seconds of reflection and a few deep breaths, Spencer returned to his normal eccentricity. He even managed to chuckle to himself a little bit, although I’m sure he’d still felt his dramatics were justified.

He didn’t protest when I took a seat beside him on the bed. In fact, he was quick to lean on me.

I wrapped my arms around him and tried to stifle my laughter at how downtrodden he’d become. My hand smoothed over his hand and I tried to offer him reassurance that everything would be alright if our daughter grew up.

“Oh, honey, nothing has changed. She’s still our baby girl,” I reminded him.

“I know,” he sighed. Then, through laughter he muttered, “It was just a lot for me to go from thinking you secretly hated me to our daughter wearing lingerie, alright? It’s a lot.”

He buried his face against my shoulder and took another deep breath before he held me back. The simple gesture reminded me just how much he’d probably been through in past hour. Of course, it had all been self-inflicted and based on comical perceptions. But it was a lot, and I always loved the chance to comfort him.

We sat like that for a while. We sat with the knowledge that we’d made it this far. There was something special about this fear, because it meant that we had done at least a few things right.

That didn’t really help assuage any of the fears for the future, however. 

“Is she having sex?” he asked.

I wished I had a better answer.

“I don’t know,” I admitted with an exhausted groan, “My plan didn’t work. She won’t tell me anything.”

“What do we do?”

It was a question I’d spent hours pondering only to end on the same-old, unsatisfying answer.

“I guess we just… wait until she’s ready to tell us about her boyfriend.”

Silently, Spencer lifted his head and turned to me. The foreboding returned with a vengeance, but this time, I was prepared for the question to follow.

“… her what?”

I’d always heard people say that domestic suburban life could be hell on earth. I’d always shrugged it off, convinced that I had figured out the impossible and remained happily in love with my wife and the proud father of a very well-adjusted daughter.

But as I stood in my bedroom, bereft of even the basic will to live while my beautiful, loving wife fixed my tie, I realized that they had been right.

Fatherhood was hell, and my wife was the devil’s favorite accomplice.

On any other occasion, her preening would have me melting between deft fingers. In that moment, however, I felt nothing but disdain at her attention to detail.

Because she was not doing it for my benefit. She was doing it so that my disheveled appearance wouldn’t upset another man. A cruel man who sought to steal away the brightest light of my life.

That night I had to meet my daughter’s very first boyfriend.

“Are you ready?” my wife asked.

“No, you took away my gun,” I replied with the utmost sincerity.

Clever eyes darted up to mine before she laughed. The sound brought me little comfort. I tried to be upset at how she took joy in my suffering, but my lips turned to a pout before a frown.

“Yes, you’re very scary, dear,” she hummed.

Then, without warning, she pressed her lips to mine. Perfectly painted lips felt different but still tasted sweet.

Those damned fingers smoothed over my shoulders until stern muscles relaxed once more.

Eventually they crept up and cupped my jaw. Gently—at first.

So quickly they turned brutal, pressing hard enough on my cheeks to force another pout from tired lips.

“He’s a sweet boy and you’re going to be nice to him, alright?” she warned.

If she hadn’t been squeezing me so tightly, she would’ve seen me smile.

“We’ll see about that,” I deadpanned.

Again, she laughed, and that time, it brought me all the comfort I could ever need.

That darling devil of a woman stole one more kiss before she whispered, “Good enough.”

For a moment, it was. But then the doorbell rang and, despite all her efforts to lift up a heavy heart, it still plummeted to my stomach at the sound.

So quickly, my favorite girls had fled towards the door and left me frozen in the lurch. My hands and feet felt numb as my heart tried to reason with a stubborn mind.

There were some things a father had to eventually face.

My little girl was growing up, and my bad knee probably wouldn’t survive the jump out of a second story window.

There was only one way out of this. I had to go through it all.

I could hear their voices, so full of joy and love that it made me ache at the thought of losing half of it.

But deep down, I knew that I risked losing her regardless of how much I resisted the boy she’d chosen.

So, eventually, I managed to shuffle stubborn feet down the hall and towards the living room.

Somewhat to my surprise, the boy’s presence was hardly noted. In fact, if my wife hadn’t been making such a fuss about the bouquet he’d handed her, I might have even missed him.

We locked eyes from across the room. The poor boy’s muscles seized in an instant. His shoulders crept towards his ears and he lost the battle of keeping his eyes on me.

There was a distant, fleeting feeling at the sight. Something not easily described, which made my palms sweaty.

My eyes almost fell to the floor, too, but they were stopped by the sight of my daughter. Seemingly unaware of my gaze, she’d thrown her arms around the boy the first moment that she could.

Again, my heart ached with a confounding feeling. With narrowed eyes and a fast-beating heart, I struggled to place it.

Thankfully, my wife was quick to interrupt before the two had caught me staring.

Before she called us all to dinner, though, I spotted that same wistful twinkling in her eye. She had simply been better at hiding it than me.

For that same reason, I let her take charge. I sat almost silent, successfully biting my tongue to save my daughter from the embarrassment of my unbridled enthusiasm.

Of course, her pride hadn’t been the only reason that I’d hardly spoken. There had been a couple more selfish desires.

The first was my unwaning concern about any boy who’d so much as looked at my daughter. However unlikely it might have been, I had to be certain that this boy was as harmless as he seemed.

My mind began running a million scenarios of increasing horror. Yet right before the fateful final moment, the theoretical fell flat.

There was, to my relief, almost nothing disconcerting about the boy.

Almost.

There was still… that funny feeling.

“Dr. Reid?”

The sound of a familiar moniker in an unfamiliar place—from an increasingly familiar voice.

“Hm?” I answered the boy.

“I hope it doesn’t sound rude, but I looked you up before I came,” he said with the telltale crackling of a nervous teenage boy.

“I don’t think it’s rude,” I said.

That’s what I would have done, was the unspoken realization.

“Well, that’s a relief,” he laughed.

My wife and daughter stifled a chuckle as they exchanged a secret set of glances that I didn’t understand.

“Your writing is way more advanced than my reading level,” the boy continued, “but I did try to read some of them. Your philosophy papers seemed so…”

He struggled to find the next word. His face twisted between a smile and something similar to a flinch. I recognized the hesitance like a mirror to the past.

“Would… hopeful be the right word?” he asked.

“Yes!” I shouted, to my own surprise.

And that boy’s face lit up like a properly screwed lightbulb from one of my very poorly received philosophy jokes.

I had become so excited by the prospect of being understood—for once—by someone so young and green that I could hardly contain my excitement.

“Which paper did you—?”

I cut myself off when I heard a soft sigh from the boy’s side.

At first, I’d thought that it was my daughter trying to warn me of my first social faux pas of the evening. But I was instead pleasantly surprised to find her contented smile. Although, it was aimed at someone else.

“No, please,” the boy beamed, “I want to hear about all of them.”

I contained the buzzing in my fingertips that tapped against the table. I turned to my wife  for permission, but her slight nod didn’t provide me the confidence to continue.

It wasn’t enough until my daughter blurted out, “Go ahead, dad. I know what I signed up for.”

What confounding words to be uttered so simply. I didn’t dare question them then.

Instead, I answered his question. I spoke at length and about anything he could remember. To my surprise, the conversation wasn’t nearly as one or two sided as I’d expected.

By my daughters third question, I was forced to accept that she really had been listening to me all those years while staring down at her phone.

My wife had been the quietest person at the table. The whole dinner, she just seemed to lean back and admire the scene before her. But behind each sip from her glass, I spotted a cheeky smile that appeared alongside that wistful distance in her eyes.

I decided I would ask her later what she saw.

Later came sooner than expected, however. The summer sun had long since set when an unfamiliar phone dinged.

“Oh, sorry, it’s my mom,” the boy muttered. There was a brief disappointment that seemed to dissipate the moment he read the message. “I should really get going, anyway. I don’t want to take up your whole night with my curiosity.”

“He really would talk forever if you let him,” my daughter said under her breath.

I assumed it had been a comment about me.

I was wrong.

“It’s just not very often I get to ask a philosopher for his thoughts, okay?” he chuckled.

He must’ve felt my dumbstruck staring, however, because he stopped himself. He straightened his back the best he could but his hand still trembled when he reached out to me to shake it.

“It really was nice to meet you, Dr. Reid,” he offered.

I was too frozen by the shock of how many mistaken assumptions I’d made in such a short period of time to respond. I glanced down at his hand and recalled a time where I was adamant that I wouldn’t shake a strangers hand.

That hadn’t been true anymore (thanks to my very supportive wife and therapist), but my daughter still recognized the ghost of hesitance.

One stern look from her made me spring into action.

His hand was warm and softer than mine. The only calluses were caused by a firm grip on a pencil rather than a gun. There was nothing worrisome about the way he tried to follow every instruction manual for handshaking.

He was, as my wife had put it, a sweet boy.

“It was very nice to meet you, too,” I returned. Then, knowing how much it would mean to them both, I smiled as I added, “I look forward to next time.”

Their responses were everything I had predicted, and it was entirely worth whatever germs might have been transferred.

The moment I turned my attention away from them, I watched from the corner of my eye as they excitedly squeezed each others hands until their whole bodies were bouncing.

“I’ll walk you to your car!” my not-so-little girl shouted.

It was less walking and more dragging until he managed to catch up to her.

The sight tugged once more at my heart. That strange feeling crept forward again and I tried to find its name as the front door clicked shut.

My wife swiftly ended the thought, however, by grabbing my hand and taking off towards the stairs.

“Come on!” she half-whispered between her tugging and my stumbling.

“Where are we going?!”

“We’re going to spy on them!” she now fully yelled, “Hurry up!”

In a fit of laughter and with our hands never breaking apart, we did just that. We booked it up to the master bedroom and—with the lights still off—my wife’s clever fingers pried apart the blinds just enough for us to peer through them.

The suburban summer night was almost quiet enough to hear them make their inevitably awkward goodbyes. The soft glow of carefully placed streetlights painted my daughter in an even more beautiful light, and I could tell the boy in front of her appreciated it for everything that it was.

Yet he turned away from her first, with his hand lingering in hers.

Somehow, I knew what would happen before it did. Sure enough, my daughter refused to let go. She used that hesitance to leave and pulled him right back to her and straight into a quick, chaste kiss.

And that was when I realized what that feeling had been. That lurid memory, the subtle glowing of my heart, was the familiarity of it all.

The scene unfolded like a home movie ripped straight from my memory.

In perfect synchrony with that epiphany, my wife released a dreamy sigh.

“Do you remember when that was us?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I laughed, “I do.”

I remembered it all with perfect clarity, despite how far away it had fallen. I dragged the memories back up with the same insistence that my wife had used to bring me to that moment.

I remembered the butterflies in my stomach and the anxiety of knowing that I was madly in love with a woman that was much too good for me. I also remembered how it felt to clamor back into my car and have to drive away from her with the taste of transferred lipgloss on my lips.

As the boy drove away, I felt a wave of relief ushered on by my wife’s comforting embrace.

“I think they’re going to be okay,” she whispered.

“Yeah. Me too,” I agreed.

We’d seen it happen before.

(Tell me what you thought about this fic here!)

Looking for more to read? Check out my CM Father's Day Rec List here! It has SFW and NSFW categories.

Reid Taglist (Everything Reid): @mrs-dr-reid , @dreatine , @hopefulfangirl24 , @laurakirsten0502 , @dontcallmekittens , @rintheemolion , @andreasworlsboring101 , @imsuperawkward , @wentz2005 , @lovejules888 , @dashneydanger , @materialisthicc , @violetspoetic , @mslowlife , @conniesanchor , @red-shirt-reid , @princessamanda2022

Complete Taglist (All Works): @cynbx , @emsma11 , @mediocre-writer , @fightingdragonswithwho , @andiebeaword , @jayyeahthatsme

[creedslove]

SHOWER BLISS 🫧

Post Outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel comes home after patrol on a winter day and he's so cold he can't warm up even under water, so he asks you to join him in the shower.

(this could be read as a second part of SLEEP BLISS 💤 or as a stand alone, it's up to you)

Warnings: fluff, like a lot of fluff, sexual tension and mentions of masturbation but no smut at all, a little bit of angst as Joel has low self-esteem, age gap, Joel being probably out of character but idc I want him to be happy

A/N: I will write all the cute/fluff Joel Miller scenarios that come to my mind and this is a threat!!!

1.6k words

Winters in Jackson were hard and your heart tightened every time you had to see Joel leave the comfort and warmth of your shared house to go patrolling.

Your relationship was complicated, you were too distant to be together but also too intimate to not be together.

You weren't a couple. You didn't kiss and you didn't have sex, not because you didn't want to, quite the opposite, you did, you ached even for it. But Joel held himself back. You both started as travel partners and you ended up sharing a house in Jackson.

Despite the fact you got along and you cared for each other, he never wanted to mix up things. Not only was he painfully older, he also had a paralyzing fear of losing you. But there was only one thing worse than losing you to him:

You falling in love with him.

That was definitely off limits, Joel would never accept that, he was a horrible person and he knew you deserved better, it was unfair you got stuck with an old, cold-hearted, violent murderer like him. Not when you were young, bright and full of life and deserved someone who could love you. Someone who didn't have such baggage like he did.

And yet you held him at night, your hands stroked his back when he woke up from a nightmare, your soft words were nothing but sweet to him. You were too good to Joel, more than he ever deserved and even if he knew you should find something better than him, he allowed himself to be selfish and have you by his side.

You opened the door to him, welcoming him inside, brushing off the snow on his shoulders.

"Joel, you must be freezing!" You said as you watched him get rid of his jacket and his pair of gloves.

His face was red from the exposure to the freezing wind and he looked down at you, your sweet warm eyes flooding with relief to see him return safe and sound from patrol.

You hung his coat and gave him some space so he could make himself comfortable. Joel was attracted to the kitchen as the smell of food was so tempting to him. Last he'd eaten was a sloppy sandwich before patrol he made himself while you were still asleep, as he didn't want to bother you about having to get up and prepare him something.

You saw how he eyed the pan you left on the stove and smiled big.

"I made you some carrot potato soup" you said with your big smile and got him a bowl, immediately pouring a lot in it and handing it to him.

Joel loved that. Ever since you made it for the first time it became one of his favorite dishes, you'd told him it was not a big deal and anyone could make it, but he knew it had nothing to do with the ingredients nor the seasoning, it had to do with the fact you made it for him.

Since then, you always made sure to have a warm bowl of it waiting for him during winter days.

"Thanks darlin', it's really good" he mumbled after the first spoon. He groaned in pleasure and felt how he began warming up slowly.

Joel wasn't a man of many words, especially when he was hungry.

You could tell his hands were burned from the cold and again you couldn't help but feel that pit in your stomach once more. It wasn't fair Joel had to freeze his off outside while he already worked so hard during the week, but there was not a way you could tell him, you were afraid he would bark at you for being silly, or overprotective or even clingy so you kept your thoughts to yourself.

Joel was more vulnerable when it was around sleeping time, but when he was wide awake, he was… well… Joel.

You thought of what you could do to help him warm up and thought of suggesting a nap, but when you were about to go say it, he finished his soup and looked at you.

"I'm gonna shower now" he got up and thanked you for the food before leaving. You quickly washed the dishes, hating any kind of mess in your kitchen.

It was a shame you didn't have a bathtub, you could've run a bath for him, though the image of Joel in a scented bubble bath was enough to make you giggle.

Of course you wouldn't complain about using the tub yourself. If you had one, you'd definitely enjoy his patrol time to sink into that relaxing water and just stay there, clearing your mind and not worrying about anything.

You would also use that time to bring yourself some pleasure, it was a need you couldn't control, now that you didn't sleep alone anymore, you didn't have a lot of time to do it, and because you didn't sleep alone anymore your need was going through the roof, as every touch Joel's left on your skin, was enough to set your core on fire.

You could spend the rest of your afternoon in those fantasies if it weren't from Joel's voice coming from the bathroom. He called your name and you snapped awake from your daydream.

You rushed to the bathroom and grabbed the towel you were sure he'd forgotten and was asking you for a new one. However, his towel was right there when you got inside.

You turned to towards the shower and you saw Joel's face peeking through the curtain.

"I…uh" he blushed and looked down, looking into your eyes again as his big brown ones were soft and carried a level of shyness and shame.

The combination of those eyes and his wet hair made him look like a stray puppy caught in the rain. It was amusing to see how Joel could carry so much violence and darkness within and at the same time look like the fluffiest guy on earth.

"What is it Joel?" You tried controlling your breath, not wanting him to notice how accelerated it got from the situation.

Joel naked, less than a meter from you, and the only thing between you two was a painfully thin shower curtain.

"I'm still cold… I was wondering if you'd like to shower with me"

You laughed and looked at him, surprised to see him joke about that, but when he stared at you completely seriously, your smile died.

He wasn't joking.

You held yourself as best as you could not to squeal and bit your lips.

"It's not like that, Y/N… it's like when we sleep, darlin.." he explained feeling mortified and was about to ask you to leave.

Maybe he was crossing the line and didn't think things through, which made him feel pathetic and stupid, besides, you wouldn't waste your time getting in the shower with an old guy like him, that was just dumb.

He could've spent the rest of the afternoon in a self loathing rant, but when he saw you'd stripped down to your bra and panties, he stared at you in shock.

He didn't actually believe you'd do it but there you were, two small pieces of clothes away from being naked.

"I'll turn around so you'll be more comfortable, sweetheart" you rolled your eyes at how gentle he was, you wanted to see his face as you got naked for him, maybe he would finally understand how much you longed for his touch. But he already had his back to you.

You quickly got rid of your remaining clothes and stepped under shower with you.

You placed your hand on his stomach, and felt his bigger one on top of it. He was indeed very cold and you were hit by a sudden need to help him, keep him warm and make everything alright for him.

"It's okay, you can turn around again Joel… remember, it's nothing we haven't seen before when we were bathing in the lake" you reminded him and heard a chuckle. But it was a lie, you did bathe naked once in the lake, but you were at a reasonable distance and deep enough into water to cover your bodies, but you didn't care, and neither did Joel.

He kept his gaze into yours, looking into your eyes and fighting the urge of staring down at your perfect body.

You wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your head against his chest at the same time he rested his head on top of yours.

He sighed deeply, your body felt so great against his he felt like breaking the promise he made himself of not touching you.

Joel finally began warming up, at the same time your hands stroked his back so gently. You'd grabbed soap and rubbed on him, feeling the different shapes of scars he gathered around the years and loving each one of them.

He grabbed the shampoo bottle and squirted some onto his hand.

"Close your eyes, sweetheart" he asked in his deep voice and massaged your scalp taking his time and watching the bubbles forming and the delicious familiar smell spread through the bathroom.

He just loved how good your hair smelled and how well you took care of it, but he wanted to take care of it for you, to show you he cared about you, even if you already knew, he just wanted you to be sure.

When he was done rinsing your hair, he found your eyes looking up at his, maybe you waited for a kiss, a hand sliding down your body or something like that, but he couldn't do this, he'd do more harm than good.

Instead, you gave him one of those smiles that made him weak at the knees and he was sure once more you were so much better than he could ever deserve.

_____

A/N: I just want Joel to be happy 😭

[spatialwave]

❝𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞?❞

notes: angus tully x fem!reader || college au word count: 2.2k warnings: slight nsfw, angst, arguing & name-calling

you loved angus tully. you loved him so goddamn much, but sometimes he made you want to rip your hair out and scream. the two of you were heading into your final year of university and had been dating since your second year. neither of you bit the bullet on moving in yet, but things were getting serious and you wanted to take that next step with him over the summer.

except you weren't sure if that was in his own plans. the moment you mentioned it, you felt him grow distant and cold. it was hard not to take it personally, to feel like you were taking things too fast.

was he not as interested as you? was he planning on breaking up with you? did he fall out of love with you?

these were the questions that haunted you day and night, even in those intimate moments when the two of you were hanging out at your apartment.

he was looking over a history textbook, face scrunched up as he scoured the pages as he hunched over your small kitchen table. you were sitting on the couch, a book in your hand with your eyes peering right over it and watching your boyfriend. he looked so cute when he was focused, his lips slightly pursed and fingers tapping along the wooden surface of your table.

he was so hard to be mad at, but it had been nearly three weeks since you brought up your... idea. three weeks of him distancing himself in the smallest of ways. choosing to study with his classmates or wanting to stay at his dorm over the weekend rather than with you.

you were usually a good communicator, but this worried you.

"you're staring," angus' voice broke the silence, you hadn't realized he'd been looking back at you.

your eyes narrowed further, the swarming of negative thoughts in your head keeping you on the brink of anger. it was easy to get like this when you were stressed, so looming finals were of no help.

keeping silent, you pulled your gaze onto the words on the page. however, the stepford wives was doing a horrible job at actually keeping you engaged. with a quick sigh, you snapped the book closed and your sharp gaze shifted back to your boyfriend.

god, you hated the way he was staring at you like he did nothing wrong–after weeks of feeling worried over the state of your relationship. your anger was palpable.

"did i do something wrong?" you asked, keeping cool on your tone of voice as you sat upright on the couch, soon moving to your feet. arms crossed over your chest and you kept your gaze firm.

"what?" he looked at you with a face of confusion, you could see his own guard coming up as he stood.

he overpowered you in height, but you weren't scared. you knew he would never intimidate you physically, but emotionally he was tearing you to pieces. whether he knew it or not. it wasn't your fault that you loved him with all your being.

"you've been distant for like a month now. this is the first time you've come to study at my place in over a week and you're not even sitting with me," you explained, one of your arms moving from your chest and animating your words as you spoke, "i feel like every chance you get you choose to be away from me. why?"

"listen, you're getting ahead of yourself," he warned, taking a step toward you.

"am i? it's a simple question, angus." you are steady in your voice, though, you can feel your hands beginning to shake.

"it's really not," he let out an exasperated laugh and it's that moment that sets you off. it's one of your worst flaws, when someone acts differently than your expectations it's enough to make you blow up.

"oh, come on. just tell me the truth," you groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration, "you don't like being around me anymore and that's okay, but don't lead me on like this."

"i never said that," he pushed ahead, taking another step as his voice rose. he hated your assumptions.

"well, that's what it feels like! if you had a phone in your dorm i highly doubt you'd answer it if you knew it was me! i've been with you all day and you haven't even kissed me!" you rambled and vented, your voice wavering as your emotions spilled.

he blinked at you a few times, but you couldn't tell what was going on in his head. you didn't give him a chance to speak.

"i just need to know what's wrong, what am i doing wrong? what can i do to fix this or is it too late?" you asked, "i'm starting to get scared about us, angus... is there someone else? another woman that caught your eye? i need you to tell me what your problem is so i can move on instead of living ever single day worried that you’re loving someone else!”

all you were doing was prying for an answer, something to ease your emotions that had begun to eat your alive. you needed to mend your breaking heart and the truth was needed to begin the process. you watched angus carefully to see his reaction, you noticed the way his brows furrowed. how his hands moved to his hips and his cheeks were red in anger.

you knew throwing that assumption at him wasn’t a healthy and communicative way to reach am answer, but these feelings had been bubbling for a long time now. you didn’t have the means to keep your bottle lid tight anymore.

a sharp exhale came from him, "oh, that's fucking rich coming from you," he spat at you loud and dramatically with a forced laugh, his arms crossing as he stared at you in a mix of fury and amusement.

"what does that mean?" you questioned defensively, you hadn't realized how loud your voice had gotten until someone banged on the wall, an annoyed neighbour. you lowered your voice and hissed in a stage whisper, "i've never done anything that should make you assume anything like that. you're being a prick right now."

"uh-huh," he breathed, unconvinced, "so when i saw you practically crawling over that douchebag from your statistics class in the library that was nothing?" you widened your eyes as he spoke, "i'm surprised you weren't fucking him then and there, so forgive me if i've been distant. i suppose i had a hard time swallowing down the fact that i've fallen in love with a girl who thinks it's okay to entertain other men behind my back!"

he had been stepping closer toward you as he ranted, his words sharp and leaving you stinging raw. his patronizing tone was hard to listen to and tears stung your eyes.

both of you were clouded over with stress and anger, riddled with worst case scenarios simply because neither of you could stomach a civil conversation. it was fear holding you two back, both of you assuming that the end of your relationship was near. that you both found love in another, someone better, smarter—more attractive.

"i need you to get out of my apartment." you tell him, sniffling as your nose got runny as you fought back tears, "i don't let men in my home who accuse me of being a slut."

"i didn't call you that–" he said, voice softening, but the frustration still noticeable.

"you implied it and that's enough, angus," your voice wasn't loud anymore as you settled into temporary silence, "i have no intention of leaving you and when i asked if you wanted to move in with you it's because you are the only person i imagine spending the rest of my life with," you say, losing your fight against the tears, "and since then, you've been avoiding me like the fucking plague!"

"i'm sorry, you know i didn't mean to," he stepped closer and you took a step back.

“out!” you hissed, pointing to your apartment door and unmoving until angus had started backing his belongings into his side satchel. you couldn’t even look at him.

you knew very well that you were both wrong with your assumptions of infidelity, there was no one involved in your lives but each other. though, you were far from the appropriate headspace to have a productive conversation and the last thing you needed was for this to end with more tears.

angus’ hand was on the doorknob when he paused, those big brown eyes of his wide and apologetic. his mouth parted to say something, but then he frowned and shoved his apology down his throat before leaving.

the sound of the door slamming echoed and you were left with a heart so fragile that it would break from a slight breeze. your apartment was quiet. you were alone and empty.

you’d only realized now that you and angus had never had an argument before. at least, not like this.

avoiding angus was difficult. anytime something came up, you had the urge to find him and tell him only to remember you were supposed to be mad at him! what kind of a boyfriend accuses you of being with another man just because you laugh at his jokes? but what kind of girlfriend accuses their boyfriend of cheating without even a morsel of evidence?

the entire situation reeked of insecurity and as much as you’d love to wait for an apology, you weren’t certain that the weight of it should be left entirely to angus. you were hurt by him, but so was he.

a week had passed and you'd just finished writing your first final exam, certain you aced it even though you'd been spending most nights crying versus actually studying. the fresh spring air soothed you when you made the trek back to your apartment, your textbooks clutched against your chest and angus' jean jacket shielding your body from the wind.

on the way home you had started creating scenarios in your head, trying to plan out your words for when you finally spoke to angus. you were so lost in your head that you hadn't heard the sounds of someone sneaking passed the front door of your apartment complex before it locked shut.

your finger pushed the 'up' button on the elevator passed the foyer and a voice coming from behind you nearly made you shriek.

you spun on your heels and saw your boyfriend, cheeks red and out of breath.

"what the hell, angus. did you run here?"

"i'm sorry," he cut you off, speaking through laboured breaths, "but yeah, i ran her, but that's beside the point," he rambled as you watched him, your eyes full of awe and heart full. you had been yearning to see him for so long now–you couldn't stay mad at him, "i was a dick to accuse you and i was an even bigger dick for not telling you what's been going on."

you let out a soft breath, "it's okay, angus, you don't have to apologize."

"i do, actually," he cut you off again, swallowing down a nervous lump in his throat as he focused on speaking between heavy breaths, "when you accused me of finding love in someone else i retaliated because it was easier to give up and end things there instead of putting everything into this relationship just for you to take my heart and smash it up into a bunch of fucking pieces," as he spoke, you could see the way the tension gave up in his shoulders, "i have trust issues if you can't tell." he let out an awkward laugh, feeling pathetic in front of you.

your eyes stung with tears again, but now for a reason that filled your heart with relief and love. the weight of the world lifted and you decided then and there that angus would be the man you would be spending the rest of your life with.

"you can trust me."

"i'll try."

when the elevator doors opened you pulled him in, arms snaking around his neck as your lips crashed into a kiss full of need and hunger. you'd never gone so long without his touch and you missed it, the way he tasted like cigarettes and coca-cola, or the way his hands always went straight to your back, hands sliding underneath your clothing because he loved the way your skin felt smooth against his hands.

"angus," you whimpered as your body rocked over his, straddling his hips as your head tilted back and exhausted eyes fixated on the ceiling. you were full of him, your body weak and tired but not yet giving in to release because you'd be damned if you'd let this moment go too soon, "i love you."

hands caressed every surface of your skin, fingertips tracing circles on your bare hips, hands massaging your breasts or wrapping around your neck.

"i love you too," angus groaned from beneath you, reaching a hand up so he could put his thumb on your chin and force your gaze down at him.

you moved slowly and effortlessly on top of him, relishing in the slowness of this moment and how perfectly your bodies moulded together. you'd never been so certain about love before as you stared down and smiled, looking into those brown eyes that pulled you in the first time you saw him two years prior.

"i trust you," he breathed out and you let euphoria consume you.

– @thekid-ofsteel sent me the best drabble ideas, though this one turned into a fic LOL. i'm not sure if i do angst well enough, but i tried. :')

[rynwritesreid]

Mind games~Spencer Reid

Chapter three~ nothing’s new

Chapter summary: The FBI gives you time off, allowing you time to heal after what happened to you. But after news spreads, someone from your past contacts you, making old wounds resurface, making you turn to none other than Spencer Reid.

Chapter warnings: Talks about the BDSM community and BDSM dynamics. Talks of fainting. Submissive reader and dominant Spencer. Alcohol consumption. Mentions of what happened to you in the previous chapter but nothing serious. Reader cries but Spencer comforts her. Mentions of emotional wounds from previous relationships.

A/N: I might start releasing these every week instead of every other week, but I am not sure. I also hope this is a good description of what BDSM and specifically D/S relationships are like, I know that community gets a lot of really bad stories written about them.

~mind game’s masterlist~

~join the mind games taglist~

Everyone on the team had been looking after you, making sure you were okay. Spencer, however, had been a godsend. He would send you texts throughout the day, even though the man hated technology. He had opened up to you about what he had been through, maybe in hopes of you opening up, or maybe he just wanted to show you he knew how you were feeling. But you didn’t really care, you were just happy that he was no longer horrible towards you.

 

You did want to open to Spencer, to everyone, and let them know what you had seen, but you just couldn’t. And the fact that people from academy had been texting you, telling you they had heard what happened and that they couldn’t imagine how you felt, just made it worse.

It had also made it back to your ex-boyfriend, who after 1 and a half years of ignoring your texts, had decided to call you. Part of you wanted to ignore the call, to push away any connection to the past. But another part of you was curious about what he had to say after all this time.

 

Taking a deep breath, you answered the call. His voice sounded distant and strained as he spoke, "Hey... I heard about what happened. I'm so sorry."

 

The sincerity in his tone surprised you, and for a moment, you were reminded of why you had loved him in the first place. But then reality set in, reminding you of the pain and heartbreak he had caused.

 

"I appreciate your sympathy," you replied coolly, trying to maintain a sense of composure. "But I'm doing my best to move forward."

 

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and you could almost hear him searching for the right words.

 

"I understand if you don't want to hear from me anymore," he finally said, his voice filled with regret. "I just wanted you to know that I've changed. I've done a lot of soul-searching and therapy since we broke up. I wish I could have been there for you when you needed me."

 

Your grip on the phone tightened as his words struck a chord within you. The longing for closure and understanding warred with the pain and bitterness that still lingered from your past.

 

"It's too late now," you replied, your voice laced with a mixture of anger and sadness. "You had your chance, and you blew it."

 

There was silence on the other end, and you could almost picture him taking in a deep breath before speaking again.

 

"You're right," he said quietly. "I don't deserve your forgiveness. But I hope that someday, maybe, you can find it in your heart to let go of the hurt I caused."

 

Tears welled up in your eyes as his words hit you like a wave crashing onto the shore. The pain of his betrayal resurfaced, threatening to engulf you once again. Part of you wanted to believe in his sincerity, to believe that people could change. But another part of you feared being hurt all over again.

 

"I don't know if I can ever forgive you," you managed to say, your voice trembling with emotion. You didn’t care what he had to say anymore, so you just hung up.

 

You couldn’t hold back any more and you just began to sob. You picked up your phone and decided to call Spencer, it probably would have been smarter to call one of the girls, Spencer wasn’t the only one who understood what you had gone through, but Spencer was the only one who could truly understand you.

 

As the phone rang, your tears continued to flow, blurring your vision and making it difficult to see. The weight of your emotions felt like an anchor dragging you down into a sea of despair. Each ring seemed to echo in the cavernous void of loneliness that had enveloped you.

 

Finally, Spencer's voice broke through the haze of your anguish. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked, his tone filled with concern.

 

You tried to steady your voice, but it came out choked with sobs. "Spencer," you managed to utter between gasps for air. "I... I need you."

 

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, and then Spencer's voice softened with understanding. "I'm here for you," he said gently. "Take all the time you need, and when you're ready, I'll be right by your side."

 

“I’m ready now Spencer, please.” In that moment, you could hear the urgency in your own voice, the desperation for comfort and solace. The pain of your past relationship had resurfaced, triggering a deep yearning for someone who truly understood you. And Spencer, with his unwavering support and compassion, was the only person who could provide that.

 

Silence lingered on the other end of the line, and you wondered if perhaps you had overwhelmed him with your sudden vulnerability. But just as doubt began to creep in, Spencer's voice filled the void once again.

 

"I'm on my way," he said firmly, his words laced with determination. "Stay where you are. I'll be there as soon as I can."

 

Relief washed over you like a gentle tide, easing some of the turmoil in your heart. You trusted Spencer implicitly; his presence was a balm to your wounded soul.

 

Spencer rushed into Hotch’s office, telling him that you needed someone with you right now, and that he will be back to work as soon as he can be.

 

And Spencer, a man who was always true to his word, was at your door within 20 minutes.

 

You opened the door, your tear-streaked face betraying the pain you had been holding inside. Spencer took one look at you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace. The warmth of his touch, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest, brought a sense of security that you hadn't felt in a long time.

 

"I'm here," he whispered softly into your ear, his voice filled with genuine concern. "You're not alone anymore."

 

You clung to him, seeking solace in his presence, as he led you to the couch and sat down beside you. “You don't have to face this pain by yourself”, his voice was calming, “everyone on the team loves you, they all would be here in a heartbeat for you. I mean they are discussing what to get you for when you come back to work.”

 

You let out a weak laugh, the first sign of a smile since the whole ordeal began. It was comforting to know that you had a support system, a group of people who truly cared about you.

 

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I don't know where I would be without all of you."

 

Spencer's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes filled with genuine compassion. "You're stronger than you think," he assured you softly. "And we'll be right here with you every step of the way."

 

In that moment, as you sat there with Spencer by your side, you felt a glimmer of hope. The pain and heartache were still present, but now they were tempered by the love and support surrounding you.

 

“Would you like to talk about what happened, or is there something else on your mind?”

 

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you were ready to relive the details of the past, but then you realized that Spencer was right. It was time to face what had happened and start the healing process.

 

Taking a deep breath, you began to share your story. The words tumbled out, sometimes in a rush, other times choked with emotion. Spencer listened attentively, never interrupting or judging. He offered gentle words of encouragement, his presence a constant reminder that you were not alone.

 

As you recounted the painful memories, it felt like a weight was being lifted off your shoulders. Each word spoken was an act of defiance against the pain that had consumed you for so long. And with each passing minute, you felt a little bit stronger.

 

When you finally finished, there was a silence that hung in the air, as if the weight of your story needed a moment to settle in. Spencer broke the stillness with a soft sigh.

 

"I'm so sorry," he said sincerely, “you should never have had to have gone through that. He will rot in prison. And that ex of yours, he did not deserve you.”

 

You nodded, grateful for Spencer's unwavering support and understanding. His words were like a soothing balm to your wounded soul, validating the pain you had endured. Your heart ached with the realization that you had been in a toxic relationship, but knowing that you were no longer alone gave you the strength to move forward.

 

"Thank you, Spencer," you whispered, tears brimming in your eyes once again. "I don't know how I would have made it through this without you."

 

Spencer's gaze softened, his hand gently wiping away your tears. "You don't have to thank me," he said softly. "Being there for you is what friends do. We look out for each other."

 

The word "friends" lingered in the air, and you couldn't help but wonder if there was something more between you and Spencer. The connection you shared felt deeper than mere friendship, but you were both still healing from past wounds. It was too soon to explore those feelings, and not long ago, Spencer had shown his dislike for you.

 

*

 

After about two weeks, you were back in the bullpen. Garcia had decorated your desk, telling you that this always make her feel better and she thought it would do the same to you, JJ and Emily informed you on all the gossip you had missed, Hotch had gone full dad mode on you, making sure you were okay, Rossi had invited you over to his for a private cooking lesson, Morgan had told you all the pranks he had pulled on Spencer. Spencer on the other hand seemed to keep his distance, he had smiled at you, but ever since that day he had come over something seemed to have changed.

 

You couldn't put your finger on it, but there was a palpable shift in the dynamics between you and Spencer. He was still kind and supportive, but there was a subtle hesitancy in his interactions with you. It was as if he was holding back, as if there were unresolved emotions swirling beneath the surface.

 

You desperately wanted to address it, to talk to Spencer about what had transpired between you, but you feared that doing so might jeopardize the fragile bond you had built. What if he didn't feel the same way? What if he saw you as nothing more than a friend and confidant?

 

You pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the work at hand. The team had a new case, one that required their full attention. As you discussed the details with your teammates, you noticed Spencer's gaze linger on you for a moment longer than necessary. It was a fleeting look, but enough to make your heart skip a beat.

 

Throughout the day, you found yourself stealing glances at Spencer whenever you could. There was an undeniable chemistry between the two of you, a connection that had grown stronger during your time of need. But you both had been through so much already, and neither of you wanted to rush into anything without being sure.

 

As the case progressed, Spencer's presence beside you became more prominent. He would stand just a little too close, his hand brushing against yours as he passed you a file or offered his insights. It was subtle, but it spoke volumes about what he was feeling.

 

Even JJ had commented on it, asking if something was going on between the two of you, but you assured her nothing was going on. But the truth was, you weren't quite sure how to define whatever it was that was happening between you and Spencer.

 

*

 

After the case was over, the team decided to go out for celebratory drinks. This was the first time you had gone out since what had happened to you. You were sat in-between JJ and Garcia, they were both talking about their funniest sex stories and you couldn't help but laugh along with them, grateful for the distraction from your own thoughts. Across the table, Spencer was engaged in a lively conversation with Rossi and Morgan, his laughter ringing out in the crowded bar.

 

You don’t know what compelled you, but you decided to share yours, and you were almost certain Spencer couldn’t hear you.

 

“If you want to mine”, you paused, allowing the girls to give you their full attention, “I told my ex that I was into BDSM and he thought that just meant me calling him daddy. So, when I told him what I was really into, he nearly fainted. It was definitely an interesting and eye-opening experience." The girls burst into laughter, their faces turning red from the combination of alcohol and amusement.

 

The sound caught Spencer's attention, his ears perking up as he turned his head towards you. His eyes locked with yours, and you could've sworn there was a flicker of interest in them.

 

"Wait, what did I miss?" he asked, leaning closer to catch the tail end of the conversation.

 

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks as you glanced at the girls. JJ nudged you playfully, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

 

"Oh, Y/N's just regaling us with her kinky adventures," Garcia chimed in with a teasing smirk.

 

Spencer raised an eyebrow, a mix of curiosity and surprise evident on his face. "Is that so?" he asked, trying to hide a smile.

 

You shifted in your seat, feeling a mix of embarrassment and anticipation. The playful conversation seemed to have opened a door, allowing for a light-hearted connection between you and Spencer. You took a deep breath, deciding to seize the moment.

 

"Yeah, well, it was definitely an experience," you replied, matching his playful tone. "But let's just say, I've learned my lesson about dating vanilla guys."

 

Spencer chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, I can assure you, I'm far from vanilla," he said, a hint of mischief in his voice.

 

JJ and Garcia exchanged knowing glances, silently urging you to take the plunge. They had seen the connection between you and Spencer long before either of you had acknowledged it, and they were more than ready to play matchmakers.

 

"So," Garcia interjected with a sly grin, "are we going to sit here and talk about kinks all night, or are you two going to finally address the elephant in the room?"

 

“I-erm what elephant?” you asked, there was hint of confusion in your voice.

 

“Oh, come on.” JJ stated “Even when Spencer hated you, he couldn’t take his eyes of you.”

 

Spencer's cheeks flushed slightly, his gaze shifting nervously between you and JJ. You could see the internal battle raging within him, the fear of rejection warring with his desire for something more.

 

Finally, Spencer took a deep breath and mustered up the courage to speak. "I... I have to admit," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "Even when I claimed to dislike you, I couldn't deny the pull I felt towards you. You're intelligent, compassionate, and..." He trailed off, his eyes searching yours for any sign of reciprocation.

 

A warm smile spread across your face as you reached across the table, gently placing your hand on top of Spencer's. "And what?" you prompted softly.

 

He let out a shaky laugh, his fingers intertwining with yours. "And beautiful," he finished, his voice filled with sincerity.

 

JJ and Garcia exchanged triumphant glances as their matchmaking efforts paid off.

 

“You know, I think it’s time you two go home, so you can discuss this somewhere Hotch can’t hear you.” Emily said in a hushed tone.

 

You and Spencer laughed, realizing that your friends were right. It was time to have a more private conversation about the growing feelings between you. As the night came to an end, you and Spencer found yourselves outside the bar, away from prying ears.

 

The air was crisp, a gentle breeze rustling through the trees. You leaned against the side of the building, facing Spencer who stood only a few feet away. There was a comfortable silence between you as you both took a moment to collect your thoughts.

 

Finally, Spencer spoke up, his voice filled with vulnerability. "I never meant to push you away before. I was scared...scared of opening myself up to someone, scared of getting hurt. But seeing what you went through, how strong you were...it made me realize how much I care about you."

 

Your heart swelled at his words, grateful for his honesty. "Spencer, I understand why you acted the way you did. We've all been hurt before, and we all have our own ways of protecting ourselves," you replied softly. "But I want you to know that I care about you too, and I'm willing to take the risk if it means we can be together."

 

Spencer's eyes met yours, filled with a mix of relief and hope. "You would really give us a chance?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

 

A gentle smile tugged at your lips as you stepped closer to him. "Yes, Spencer, I would. I would give us a chance," you confirmed, your voice filled with certainty. "Because the truth is, Spencer, I've been falling for you ever since the first case I worked.”

 

Spencer's eyes widened, surprise mingling with joy. "Really? Even when I was being an insufferable jerk?"

 

You chuckled softly. "Especially then," you admitted. “But I do have to know what you mean when you say your far from vanilla.”

 

Spencer blushed, his cheeks turning a shade of crimson. "Well," he stammered, "I've always had a... deep fascination with role-playing scenarios and exploring different power dynamics." He paused, his gaze searching yours for any sign of judgment or discomfort. “And I can say I enjoy being the dominant one more.”

 

“Is that so? What have been your favourite scene you’ve done so far?”

 

Spencer cleared his throat, a bashful smile playing on his lips. "Well, one of my favourite scenes involved a classic teacher-student dynamic," he confessed, his voice laced with excitement. "I got to play the strict professor, and she was my eager and naughty student."

 

Your eyebrows raised in surprise and curiosity. "Oh? And how did that play out?"

 

He chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Let's just say there were some detentions and extra credit assignments involved," he replied coyly. "It was all about the power play and the thrill of breaking the rules within the safety of our consensual role-playing."

 

He then once again looked to see if you were unconformable. “What about you? What do you enjoy.” He asked.

“I, erm- well I enjoy being the submissive one. I was in a dynamic relationship with someone, and they gave me a necklace to wear, to show I belonged to them. They used to tell me what outfits I could wear when going out.”

 

Spencer's eyebrows furrowed, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. "Did you enjoy the feeling of submission, or was it more about the trust and surrender that came with it?" he asked gently, his voice filled with genuine interest.

 

You took a moment to consider his question before answering honestly. "It was a combination of both," you replied, your voice soft but unwavering. "There was something incredibly liberating about giving up control and trusting someone else to take care of me. It allowed me to let go of my responsibilities and just be in the moment."

 

Spencer nodded, a thoughtful look on his face as he took in your words. "I understand," he said quietly. "The power dynamics in BDSM can be incredibly nuanced and fulfilling when both parties are open and communicative about their desires and boundaries."

 

"Would you ever consider exploring that dynamic with me?" you asked cautiously, searching his face for any sign of hesitation. “I mean, I would still be the submissive one.”

 

Spencer’s eyes softened, filled with warmth and reassurance. He reached out to gently cup your cheek, his touch sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. "I would be honoured to explore that dynamic with you," he replied softly. "But only if we establish clear boundaries, practice open communication, and ensure that both of our needs are met."

 

You smiled, relieved by his understanding and respect for the importance of consent and communication in such exploration. "I couldn't agree more," you murmured, leaning into his touch. "We'll take it slow, step by step, and create a safe space for both of us to express ourselves."

~taglist~

@iluvreid @drspencerreidsthings @amatheuni@i-heart-mgg @Liidiaaag@wyntersstuff@brilliantreid @donttrustlove@btsiguess-kpop @bellesmith628 @lunaticgurly @Oureternalbond@somethingsmart123 @ula-revolution @pleasantwitchgarden @vvampwebb @alysena2 @sujan39 @nini123 @xoxo-lyss @rory-cakes @marantha @http0kms0jpg @peppersapro @mommymilkers3000@spicycalabaza @shinixpo@dr-reidsslut@donttrustlove@miss.dianaa@potatochip-111 @stars-n-stuff15 @nugget1234567@00047c@carley12041@earth2stxr@cosavuoi-me@sewmxx @bibissparkles @frgtmenotes @mdanon027 @drreidsfavwhxre@yourfavoritefangirl @sunnyyyyyyyynnus @mega-kittyglitter-1 @loliakeoghan23 @7bel-o@dreamsarebig @kohordosara16@ashlynt @waywardhunter95 @millreid0607@spencerstits @ruby-d1amond @harrrystyles5 @maoricth @sarcasm-and-stiles @r-3dlips @khxna @k3nz13a @reidtopia @danelhi@fictionallifestuff @girl_lost_not_found@bbggarcia@b0nesnotcals@super-btstrash-posts @blacksoul-27@reidsgirlhottie@alexxavicry @olives-and-sunshine @skulliecadaver-blog

[getyourdirtyhandsoffme]

Hi :) If you don't mind, could you do a SKZ Han fic about Han finding out male reader is transgender (ftm). Ofc I understand if you can't, but I really appreciate it!

‎ AUTHOR: I'm so happy, this is my first request and of course I don't mind making transgender stories, as I am a TransMan myself, I would love to do this! Thank you for requesting and I hope this story is in your expectations along with joy!

"MISUNDERSTANDING."

GENDER: FTM READER

SCENARIO: Idol Han + College Student Reader

GENRE(S): Comedy, fluff, A bit angst, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending

DYSPHORIA WARNING(S): Dead name mentioned a few times, dysphoria, feminine words/terms, and Mention the word "Pretty girl"

OTHER WARNING(S): Misunderstanding, mentions of 'Cheating' (in a more misunderstanding), Reader going throughout a breakdown and anxiety along with Jisung, mentions of crying, argument. Mentions of the words like "Cut" but not in $ucidal way. Scissors. Shouting and swearing.

Please like, comment or/and reblog! Thank you!

(I didn't really proof read or ask grammarly to fix my grammar so we just have to hope for the best!)

You hate it.

You hate the way you look.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, grabbing a fist of your long hair, you hated how it made you look too feminine.

You wanted to cut it but you fear how he would react to it.

You let go of your hair as you just tied into a bun, making it at least look like you have short hair.

You didn't want to keep it a secret to him, you loved him. He always made you laugh and always supported your careers. You even know he supported the community however, you knew he was straight.

So, you stay hidden as a 'woman' for 9 months just for him.

You were scared to lose him.

You were so lost in thought you almost didn't hear the name calling and knocking from the bathroom door.

"(Dead name)! Are you alright? You are taking so long, the popcorn is about to get cold."

(Dead name). You don't go by that name anymore, you never wanted to have that name in the first place.

Your eyes stared at the bathroom door, sighing as you walked to the door, unlocking it. You were face to face with your boyfriend, Jisung.

"Hey, baby." You responded kinda dry, trying your best to smile at him.

He looked at you, up and down, worried.

"Are you alright?"

All you can do is nod as you walk to the living room, sitting yourself down on the couch—ignoring the stares from your boyfriend.

Lost in thought, ignoring the feeling of your boyfriend next to you.

Ignoring the movie playing, it's all static to you.

Ignoring the popcorn that was placed next to you.

You ignored everything but your own thoughts.

You hated it.

These days, you have been secretly buying more men's products, hiding them underneath the clothes in your cabinet.

You brought cologne, men's clothing, boxers, shoes, everything that could help you to become what you always wanted to be.

It felt horrible keeping this a secret, hiding it from him but you were scared.

So scared.

You even secretly brought a binder as well but only wear it when you are going out by yourself or your friends who knew about you are a TransMan.

All of this fear is going on, you didn't notice how your relationship with Jisung was slacking off.

Almost like you became quite distant with him.

Lack of trust, more of fear and dysphoria.

Of course, you two still hang out from time to time, well, when he is free. Even trying to text and call more since he is a kpop idol but it felt less and dry.

Jisung was scared as well, but in the fear of losing you.

He didn't know what he did wrong as he tries his best to think of what mistakes he has made.

He kept on overthinking to the point it triggered his anxiety a few times, he had fears of you cheating on him.

He didn't want to think that but those thoughts kept on filling his brain that you were with someone else this whole time. Maybe someone better than him.

He couldn't shake this feeling off as he quickly left the studio and walked to the apartment.

Every step he takes, he fears he might see you lay next to a different man or anybody. Fears of you kissing that person along with talking bad about him behind his back.

He almost felt himself starting to cry as he walked to the apartment.

When he makes it, he walks upstairs to the second floor, going to the room number of his lover while grabbing the keys that you gave him when you both thought about sharing apartments together in their 4 months dating together.

He stands in front of the door, debating if he should barge in or knock to let them know that he is here.

His hands were shaking yet he chose to just barge in.

He quickly unlocks the front door of their shared apartment, quickly shutting behind him as he looks around.

Nothing seems suspicious besides a few photos of you and him together gone from the walls.

He frowned from that as he thinks more of the relationship between the two of you. It was either breaking up or cheating.

He shakes his head as he walks to your, or their bedroom.

He opens it to find a messy room.

A few frames that used to be framed in the living room walls, empty along with the photos of both of you together piled on top of each other on the floor.

He even noticed a few pieces of clothing that almost looked like it came out of the men's section along with shoes.

He walks around some more, looking around for any more suspicion until he finally faces the cabinets that he didn't open yet.

He opens the cabinets and looks carefully, grabbing out clothes like boxers, cologne that wasn't clearly his and a few more men's clothing. Maybe even more.

He grips the boxers.

He wanted to cry so hard but all he could think was you.

You are cheating...(?)

You walked inside the apartment, locking the door behind you.

You just got home from the library, studying for an upcoming exam happening next week.

You sighed, all you wanted to do was take a quick shower and sleep, which is exactly what you were about to do.

You change your shoes into your slippers as you speed walk to your bedroom until you stop.

You noticed your bedroom door slightly open.

You stood there, contemplating if you should run out and grab a weapon or gaslight yourself by thinking that you somehow forgot to close your door fully.

You thought the best idea was to grab a weapon, so as you turned around to do so, you heard crying.

Jisung?

You quickly opened the door, face to face with Jisung gripping your boxers, shaking.

You were shocked, feeling yourself shaken with fear.

"Wh-what are you doing here, Jiji?"

You questioned him as you slowly walked up to him, about to give him a hug until he pushed you away softly.

"Don't touch me. I knew it all along..."

What? He knew?

"What? What do you mean?" You eyes wide as you step away from him, almost like you wanted to run away from this situation.

"The photo frames, how distant you were, and now these." Jisung throws the boxers to the ground and then points at your cabinet. "I should've known! Fuck you! Why?" He shouted at you, glaring at you.

"You went through my stuff!?" You shouted back, feeling more taken back.

"Of course I did! I was worried! You felt so distant that I had a feeling you were hiding something from me and I was correct, you were hiding that something!"

You started to cry, you didn't want him to find out. Not like this.

"Please, Jisung, let's talk about this. I didn't know you were going to react like that..."

"What? You didn't know I was going to react like this? Everyone would react like this in this situation! What happened to us? What did I do wrong?" He shouts as he paces back and forward while continuing on with his words.

"I treated you kindly, I gave you love and this is what you do? You were supposed to be my girlfriend, (Dead name)! What the fuck is wrong with you!"

You shook your head as you continued on crying, even Jisung tears kept falling but his anger was rising higher from you weeping.

"Jisung, please! I can still be your girlfriend, I'm sorry! It will be over soon I promise, just give me time..."

"Soon? Soon. Are you serious? How the hell are you supposed to be my fuckin girlfriend when you can't get over that person, you damn cheater!"

Just by that, you stopped crying as you quickly looked at him, confused.

"Huh?" That's all you can say as you wipe your tears from your face.

"Don't 'Huh' me, you're literally cheating on me with someone else!"

So, this is all a misunderstanding.

You thought he knew he was trans but he actually thought you were cheating. Now you have to come out to him either way to make him stop thinking that you are cheating on him when you are actually not.

"No, I'm not. You got it all wrong..."

"Huh? But what about this!" He points to the boxers.

"Those are..." You bite your lip as you try to calm your anxiety down. You didn't want to lose him over a misunderstanding. You didn't really think you were going to be in this situation in the first place.

"Those..are mine."

Jisung stops placing around as he stares at you, his eyes bloodshot red from crying hard.

"Huh?"

"Jisung, this is not how I wanted you to find out but I didn't think you thought it THAT way. I would never cheat on you. You are literally the best boyfriend I ever have..."

You step closer to him, your eyes getting filled with more tears.

"But, you are correct about me hiding something from you and being distant. I was being a bit selfish and selfless as well. I was scared so I wanted to protect myself by distancing myself from you but even protecting our relationship from pretending to be something I'm not..."

Jisung stays quiet as he continues listening.

"I'm not...I'm not your girlfriend anymore."

"So, you are breaking up with me?"

You shook your head quickly.

"NO! Maybe I shouldn't worded it like that. I mean as in..." You sighed as you grip your arms.

"I'm not a girl, Jisung. I'm transman. I've actually been for a while until I met you. You thought I was a pretty girl and wanted to date me so I pretended to be a girl just for you. You treated me with so much care that I ignored my dysphoria, I ignored everything for you but I can't. It hurts so much to be something that I'm not..."

Jisung stood there now in shock, as he started to feel bad along with the times he called you feminine terms.

"How come you never told me this earlier...?"

You shrugged, looking down while chuckling a bit.

"I mean, how am I supposed to react to a cute guy going up to me and all of sudden calling me pretty and asking me out on a date?" You joked a bit but Jisung didn't really find it funny as he continues on feeling bad.

"You were afraid I wouldn't accept you for who you are?"

You nodded.

"Do you not trust me when I say that I love you no matter what every time I see you?"

Those words broke you. Of course you trusted him but at the same time you weren't sure.

"But, aren't you straight?"

"Not anymore..." Jisung grabs your hands. "Do I have to say it again so my own boyfriend can trust me more? I love you no matter what. I love you so much. I really do wish you told me this way earlier, all these times I hurt you and triggered your dysphoria..."

You smiled as you looked up at him who was smiling back at you.

"Boyfriend...?" You slowly said, feeling yourself smiling even wider.

"Yes, my cute boyfriend! I'm so sorry! I can't believe we almost broke up—well I almost broke up with you! Please don't do that again, my anxiety was rising too high!"

You nodded as he gave you a bunch of kisses onto your face.

"Please trust me, I love you too much to leave you."

"Of course, I'm sorry for not telling you this way earlier. I'll become more and more trustful with you and not keep anymore secrets, I'm so sorry! I love you so much!"

You both smile, holding into each other's embrace.

"Oh yeah, Jiji, since you are here. Help me clean."

Jisung groans jokingly but nods anyways as you both clean your mess.

A few months later...

"So, are you sure you want a hair cut?"

You nodded several times.

"Yes, I promise you I won't regret it like the last time." You laughed as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

"Yeah, because last time when you asked for short hair, the hair stylist accidentally, somehow, gave you a pixie cut. There isn't anything wrong with any pixie cuts but really?" Jisung commented as he wraps the towel in front of your upper body.

"Well, that's why we are doing it in our bathroom. Free and you can do my hair correctly."

"I'm an idol not a hair salonist—you might just go bald at this point."

You rolled your eyes, laughing.

"If you do make me bald, I won't hesitate to sue you."

"Yeah yeah, let me give you a nice short hair cut. You want a fade too?" He questions, grabbing a pair of scissors and a ruler (?).

"Do you even know how to do a fade...?"

"You want to find out?"

"Hell no, just give me this hair cut, good sir." You showed a picture to him.

"Of course, my prince! Anything for you! I'll make you look fabulous with this hairstyle~"

"I hope..." You side eyes him.

"Just trust me."

You rolled your eyes but nodded anyways.

You felt happy.

You didn't ignore anything around you.

You felt loved for the way you are.

"Fuck, I think I messed up, (Preferred Name)!"

"WHAT?!"

I hope this was perfect enough for you, I tried to make it more uhh whatever I was thinking about! Hope you enjoy!

Ngl, it felt like I didn't know wtf I was typing even though I planned it out a bit.

[bibibbon]

MHA chapter 423 rant

Ok so this is later than usual and Iam not going to be as active as I want to be due to exams😭 (chemistry is going to kill me tomorrow)

Anyway this chapter was a flipping mess to me and Iam not liking some of the takes Iam seeing like someone somehow blaming izuku for shigarakis death like??!?!!?

Again the lack of izuku intropsection is annoying me. Seriously Izuku please think I wanna see your thought process what's going on behind what you're doing. Like at this point I feel so distant from the MC I can't understand why he is doing anything and everything seems so ooc or in character it's annoying and confusing. Like he pities AFO? What does he think of Shigaraki? Is he not upset that he couldn't save shigaraki? What does he feel about losing his quirk and all? So much we don't know that we should know 😔

Shigaraki is dead so that's it?!?! Also can we talk about how random his last words are. I hated it 😭. I guess Iam glad shigaraki is dead so hori can't ruin him even more but dam that was such a horrible way for him to go. Also why were his last words towards spinner out of all people? Like the manga hasn't really given us a clear focus on their relationship just a few moments here and there. Also, I would of liked for shigaraki to at least say thanks to izuku or something like that. I don't know but all of this felt empty and if hori does somehow decide to bring Shigaraki back which I doubt it, it would be worse. Ok but like I low-key love seeing the OFA vestiges also punch AFO in shigarakis side

Still hated how this fight went and bakugo just had to make an entrance. I have already voiced my opinions here but due to the lack of build up and development between Izuku and other characters the whole fight where they come fighting with him feels empty as hell. It just felt like a cheap and quick way for everyone to get their moments and don't get me on bakugo making another comeback like Iam sick of seeing him truly Iam. He had his moment can hori not leave him to rest?

I didn't care for AFO. I think he should of been dead long ago. I think I have also made it clear that I don't like the way AFO is written. He had potential and I genuinely love the analysis that his fans give him but I don't like him at all especially because to me the plot revolves around him in such an aggravating way that it makes it so that the root of all evil and problems is due to AFO. Like ok cool afo is dead and with yoichi but shouldn't and couldn't help for just done that himself? Like I simply can't seem to comprehend the main villain of the story being like this

Rip kurogiri for caring way too much about shigaraki just for him to not care about you at all.

Also extra rip for izuku because he couldn't save the one person he wanted to and gran Torino was right shigaraki should of been killed and all of this would if been avoided at this point

[enby-jellyfish]

I Am Venus God.

Arthur Shelby X GN!Reader (POC friendly)

Pronouns: You/yours

Summary: You meet Arthur at your lowest, now the time has come to see him at his.

Warnings: TW PSYCHOTIC EPISODE, TW PSYCHOSIS, religious themes, marital neglect, mentions of substance abuse (alcohol and unspecified drugs), cursing, period typical ignorance to mental health issues, possible OOC Tommy, angst

Word Count: 2108

A/N: Inspired by that one scene from Queen Charlotte :)

Aside from your new husband sneaking off to various pubs and working in an actual gang, your marriage has been going smoothly, even if how it came to be was anything but.

The marriage in question was arranged by his brother, the fearsome gang leader Tommy Shelby. Your father's bakery had been struggling a lot, so he did what any desperate working man in Small Heath does and went to the infamous Peaky Blinders for help. Surprisingly Tommy accepted your father's plea with the condition that you had to marry the eldest Shelby.

You were furious when you heard the news, understandably so. How dare they basically sell you to a man you've never seen, but whose reputation precedes him. You, like anyone who has not been living under a rock these past few years, have heard horrible stories about the Peaky Blinders. They are cheats, liars, and most importantly, murderers. And Arthur Shelby is said to be the cruellest of them all.

Your fiancé.

On the day of your wedding, you had tried to escape. Emphasis on 'tried', you had been caught before you could. By none other than your future husband himself. You had tried to convince him to help you escape, not knowing who he was, lamenting about the monster you thought your fiancé to be.

"I'm afraid i can't help you, love." He had stated.

"And why not?" You had questioned, exasperated by his quick refusal to help you, someone in clear need.

"Because I'm the monster you're supposed to be marrying right now." He had given you that awkward smile you will come to adore.

After that he had given you a choice, something his brother and your own father had refused you. You could choose your future now, and surprising no one more than yourself you said the words 'I do." a few moments later.

During your honeymoon you had gotten to know him better. You had eaten, drunk, slept, and danced together. But most importantly you had talked. He was not a man of many words and would stumble over his words anytime the conversation would go deeper than 'How did you sleep?'.

Despite this he tried. He confided in you about his youth, the war, his family, and his relationship with God. He spoke about how he used to not believe, and how that changed when he met a woman, Linda. She had shown him 'The way of The Lord', and helped him find comfort when he had none. Anytime you would try and ask what happened to her, he would get a weird look in his eyes and change the subject. Your current working theory is that she either left him or is dead. You don't want to think about the further implications of either of those options, considering the whole crime family situation and all, so you stopped asking.

Ignorance is bliss after all.

Said bliss came to an abrupt stop after the honeymoon though. Tommy had called his brother back to work and so you were left alone in the house. It is a nice house, by the countryside, beautifully decorated with all sorts of knick-knacks, and a big garden. Normally you wouldn't have minded being on your own, and you didn't at first. You had your books, your garden, and when he came back from work, you had your husband.

However the time he spent away got longer and longer with time, and when he was home he was... distant. Whatever Tommy made him do caused Arthur to slip away from you. He started spending more time with a bottle and other substances, you don't even want to know what they are, than with you. Sometimes you didn't see him for days, or even weeks at a time. It was heartbreaking, to see the man you had learned to like and even love so stressed. You had only just gained him, his trust, his love, and now you were losing him.

Tonight, you are awoken by strange noises from the other side of your bedroom. At first you assume it is Arthur, coming back home under the influence of God knows what, and you are indeed correct about it being Arthur, but when you sit up you immediately notice something is off about him.

Confused you watch as he scratches something into the wall using a palette knife, muttering incoherently to himself. You try calling his name. No response.

You try again, a bit louder this time. "Arthur, is that you?" He still doesn't respond so you get out of bed, wrapping your blanket around you and lighting the candle on your nightstand. You walk over to him, trying to understand his ramblings in the process, but you can't make sense of any of it.

"Arthur."

Suddenly he stops his repetitive muttering and scratching. He drops the palette knife and stumbles around to face you. It's like he's looking right through you. He starts walking towards the door, not sparing you another glance. Concerned you follow him.

He walks quickly and stiffly, continuing his muttering, you can vaguely make out the words 'Show yourself.'. It's like he is so sure of where he is going, yet unaware of anything around him. He moves out of your bedroom, down the stairs, through the living room and exits the house. You have to jog to keep up with him. The two of you are now in the garden.

"Arthur! It's cold. You're not wearing shoes." He is running now.

You hear him before you can catch up to him. "I see you! God, your angels. I see you!"

See who? What? And oh, oh. He is undressing now. The few clothes he was wearing are now flying through the air while he keeps shouting at the sky. "I see you! I see you! My Lord, my angel, I'm here. I'm here!"

You have never seen him like this. He has had outbursts before, sure, but they were out of anger, never this.

"I feel you, talk to me!" He exclaims, falling to the ground, pale knees turning black from the dirt.

"I knew you would come. I knew it." He stood again, reaching his hands up to the sky.

"Yes! They will see. I know. Yes!" It stunned you, seeing him like this. You think back to the times you've seen him drunk or high, but this behaviour doesn't match anything you've seen him on before.

"It is God. Do you see it?" Is he speaking to you? "Say hello! Hello, God!"

"Arthur." You finally will yourself to speak.

He gasps, looking back to the sky, but doesn't respond.

"Arthur."

"Arthur."

Finally he turns to face you. "It is God. Say hello."

"No. I am God. Right here. I am God." The words slip from your lips before you can stop them.

"You are God?" Now he is the stunned one. "Yes." Perhaps indulging whatever this is may be the best course of action for now.

He lets out a gasp, bringing his hands up to cover his mouth. "You are God?"

"Yes. And God is going inside. You need to come with me."

"All right. I thought..." Another gasp. "I thought you were in the sky." He looks back up, confused.'

"I was in the sky, but now I am going inside. Into our house."

"Here. Here." You wrap your blanket around him, feeling the goosebumps on his arms as you do so. "Come on." You gently lead him towards your house.

“God… is indoors.” He says it more like a question.

“God is indoors. With you. I am with you.” You affirm.

Once inside you sit your husband on the couch and tell him to stay there while you go and fill up the tub. He just nods, staring blankly ahead.

You adjust the blanket on his shoulders and move to put on the kettle. While waiting for the water to boil you pick up the phone and dial Tommy's number, that fucker has some explaining to do.

He picks up after the first ring, odd, considering it's the middle of the night, but you are not going to question it. “Get over here, it’s Arthur.” You hang up before he can get a word in.

You fill up the tub with the hot water, adding colder water so it won’t burn. You fetch Arthur and he allows you to move him into the tub. Gently you start scrubbing away all the dirt, sweat, and tears from his body. Gently running the sponge over his seemingly perpetually bruised knuckles. He is shaking, mouth moving without making a sound, staring into nothing.

When you finally manage to get Arthur clean and dressed his brother barges into your bedroom. Tommy quickly addresses you before starting to march over to his brother, who is now sitting on the bed.

"Tommy." You block his way. "What is this? What is happening?" He sighs out your name while rubbing his hand over his face. Like it is exhausting to even be in the same room as you. How fucking dare he.

"Thomas!"

You have never raised your voice at him before, you haven't dared. He looks at you, finally he looks at you. You don't think he has ever looked you in the eye before.

“What has happened to my husband?”

He sighs. “It’s just The Flanders Blues, he’ll get over it.” He says it in a way that, if you hadn’t seen what you had that night you would have believed him.

You laugh at him. “Don’t bullshit me Thomas, I’ve seen shellshock this,” you point at your husband, he hasn’t moved an inch. “, is not that.”

“He was talking to the sky, Tommy. I-” Your voice breaks and you have to give yourself a moment to take a breath. You will not cry now.

“Yeah, and what difference does it make, you wouldn’t have married him if you knew.”

“I didn’t want to marry him in the first place, the whole idea of this marriage was against my will.” You take a breath, trying to calm yourself. “But if I have to be married, if I have to leave my home, my family, my life, it can’t be for a man I don’t know!”

“You should be grateful; your family is well provided for, and you could be doing so much worse, so what if he is mad!” He moves his arms exasperatedly.

“I don’t care about his sanity, I care about his happiness, I care for his soul. Let him be mad, if mad is what he needs. We are done, get out of my house.”

He looks at you with an unreadable look on his face. “Take care of him.” With that he leaves. You watch him leave, a mix of confusion and relief washing over you.

You hear Tommy’s car leave and only then you release the breath you’ve been holding. Hearing movement behind you you turn around, seeing Arthur move from the bed to the ground, sliding himself under the bed.

“Arthur?” His odd behaviour makes you worried for another outburst.

“It’s quiet here.” You close your eyes and nod your head, accepting that this is what he needs right now.

You move towards the bed, kneeling to the ground. “Is there room for one more under there? I could use some quiet too.”

He doesn’t respond but hear shuffling sounds and take that as permission and get under the bed with him. He is right, it is quiet down here.

“This has been an… exciting night, hasn’t it?” You look over at him, he looks calmer now, like he is actually here. “…Are you feeling better now?”

He nods. “Thank you, I’m sorry you had to see that.” His voice sounds hoarse. You think back to his screaming before, he sounded so desperate. Desperate to be saved, to be seen.

You swallow the lump in your throat. It broke your heart, seeing him like that, him apologising is just the cherry on top. You slowly reach over and grasp his hand into yours

“Thank you.” You aren’t exactly sure what you are thanking him for. Not letting you escape your wedding perhaps? Because despite everything that happened tonight, you are grateful to have him with you, right here, right now, under your bed, hiding from a deity in the sky.

“I love you.” You bring your intertwined hands to your lips and kiss the back of his hand.

“I don’t deserve you.” A tear rolls down his face. You use your free hand to wipe it away, cupping his cheek.

“Have me anyway.”

Masterlist

Thank you for reading <3

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

hi 🐊 me again

i figured id ask soneone who actually gives a rats ass about colm since most of my pals dont lol ^-^ last ask posted gave me the push to ask

i think a lot about kieran describing colms happiness as "a ray of sunshine" when speaking about him at the campfire. of course it could just mean that kieran isnt being treated horribly, and thats a ray of sunshine to the him, but i like to think his standards are a little higher even if they never get met.

ive always liked to imagine it as actually meaning something, at least to kieran. its lead me to believe that in an ideal world, kieran was moreso colms personal errand boy rather than just the gangs as a whole, that would make all of the o'driscolls recognizing him make sense. and that would also make the "sunshine" line make more sense too, if kieran was colms own little whipping boy, they would probably have a slightly closer relationship than most. after all, during the camp raid in chapter 1, we do see kieran directly grabbed snd hit by colm.

but im mostly curious about your thoughts on it all, especially as someone whos colm brained (i am trying to get myself there honestly ^-^). id looooove to know your interpretation of that line and what it says about the o'driscoll leader !! its always stuck out to me considering how little they try to humanize colm elsewhere for most of the game, and kieran says it with so much energy that youre stuck believing him.

Oh man, I am glad to get this ask because I love colm discussions. I kind of lagged on answering this because I wasn’t sure if I could actually bring a lot of interesting stuff up to talk about. Colm had so little screen time that it’s hard for me to get a grasp.

Okay. So… sunshine… ☀️

When Kieran said this it immediately made me think of cyclical abuse tactics where there is a period of good treatment followed by destruction.

I believe Colm is much the same as Dutch with having the ability to draw people in and stick with a commonality + a common goal. The O’D are drawn together by the commonality of being Irish heritage (despite Colm being American but has an Irish name). Their common goal is money and the outlaw freedom to do bad and feel invincible in numbers.

Colm doesn’t put a lot of 1:1 time with his gang so I can’t assert how he treats the rest of the gang (likely like a distant boss). But I can make a guess how he treats his close circle of people based off of Kieran’s dialogue.

Why is Kieran selected to stick with the gang? That deserves its own post, but let’s pretend Colm took a liking to Kieran and let him be the personal whipping boy; Someone who showed he was malleable enough to not put up a fight when bossed around (and disposable).

As for the sunshine, I think that could be Kieran recalling the times Colm had treated him well. Not just “he didn’t punch me today. Yay!” But 1:1 personal attention that is so far from what Colm usually does for the rest that it makes Kieran feel on top of the world. Of course he isn’t actually treated well, but it is that friendly talking and ease of laughter that makes Kieran almost forget it’s not sincere.

I think Kieran would be touch starved, and Colm knows this, so he uses brief kind gestures of touch to persuade Kieran. This is me being me but I rlly like Colm touching people’s hair. It is such an invasive and personal thing to do but also 🗣️♥️head scratches and getting your hair played with feels nice‼️♥️. It’s that dissonance between “this is creepy but also I haven’t been shown kindness since my parents died.”

It’s compared to sunshine because Colm’s nice attention is like being singled out by the sun in a cold mountain. It is a spotlight.

The flip side of “when he’s angry, it’s like the devil is upon you” is harder for me to define. I sometimes struggle with media analysis when it comes to imagining things I don’t get to clearly see in the media. Leaving stuff to the imagination is powerful, but I need something of substance to bite into for me to analyze.

I feel like Colm’s anger can be unpredictable. He has the men power and persistence to extend his anger not just to you when he is before you, but to you at all times. I don’t think Kieran was only paranoid, I think he had good reason to fear every moment he was being watched. The one time he let down his guard, he was snatched. There are also letters across the game written by O’Driscolls where they make threats and allude to them stalking people.

Colm’s anger in person is hard to read. I don’t think he yells except in a few cases, he always whispers and talks in such an eerie way. Pardon me as I copy and paste what I told some friends on the topic of his voice…

“He talks in a way that fries my brain because I know I shouldn’t trust him and he DOES sound untrust worthy but I can’t get my claws into what specifically is setting off my radar.

[in blessed are the peacemaker] After the threatening “I liked Annabell” line, Colm is so ominously silent, drawing out the tension moments longer before he just???? Smiles and almost laughs. It’s so playful and harmless sounding (without the context of the situation). Such a fucking 180 and unseriousness. He also says ‘you’ve always liked the ladies,’ as if Colm knows how shallow and fast Dutch likes and falls out with women.

And then the ‘I like that about you,’ whisper is just… Colm. Very colmy. Just whispering something as if it’s some secret or to emphasize it.

Colm is incapable of going one sentence without changing his tone/delivery/pacing/breathiness all to throw off how to read him.

He talks like he is a three headed snake-rat-vulture chimera.”

He turns on a dime when talking to Kieran in Chapter 1 (mission Old Friend? I forgot the name). He holds an amicable conversation for a few moments before something suddenly cues Colm to grab Kieran and give him two quick slaps across the face, then shove him and yell at him. It’s brief, but Colm has been shown to have the capacity to get his hands directly on people, not just use his gang as an extension of his hands. I also want to mention the intentions detail of Colm being atop his horse and leaning down to talk to Kieran. Visual story telling/signifying rank and dynamic. Even when speaking amicably, Colm is in command.

I wish I had more research in my brain of manipulation tactics that would lead to this, but I do think Colm either keeps easy to influence people or already morally corrupt people in his ranks so they’ll easily align with him when he is angry. Hence Kieran mentioning how “he’s mad. And you’re upset and you don’t know why… as long as it isn’t directed at you, you don’t care!”

^ I believe what I am talking about are “Flying Monkeys” in the context of psychology and narcissists. Brief rehashing of what TheraminTrees taught me but it’s when people knowingly or unknowingly are recruited by narcissists to extend their influence / control beyond direct interactions.

I don’t think just anyone could be slotted into Colm’s gang and especially not his close ring of people. That man had an eye for picking people who will easily follow and carry out his bidding.

I don’t think the game could have humanized him a whole lot outside of one of his abuse victims briefly mentioning how colm had moments of good treatment. As the audience (extra: as the audience looking through Arthur’s eyes), there is no good way the game could have made ups sympathize or respect Colm because we ourselves aren’t the kind of people who would believe the sickly sweet lies Colm drip feeds to keep his men by his side.

I do like how they managed to at least briefly allude to a “kind” side to Colm. It would have been so easy to paint Colm as a black and white bad man with no redeeming traits (and I am sure that’s how some fans see him if they missed or ignored Kieran’s camp interaction). But that tiny mention makes him so interesting to me.

As much as I hate how little screen time he got, that’s in character for him. He is elusive, he is hard to read, he is contradictory in how he talks (sounding so humored one minute and deathly silent the next). He is… so. God damn. Slimy.

I love Colm as a character so much it is actually driving me ballistics.

SIGHHHH LONG ANALYSIS BUT ANYWAYS thank you for sending this ask this was a good use of like…. Two hours.

[buccini555]

✉︎¹ . . ⁽ᵇᵉᵉᵖ ᵇᵉᵉᵖ⁾ 𝐓𝐨𝐤𝐲𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭.𝟏♡ | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭.𝟐

⎙ H e a d c a n o n s / x r e a d e r!

⌦𝑭𝒕. Manjiro Sano, Ken Ryuguji, Takemichi Hanagaki, Mitsuya Takashi, Hakkai Shiba, Ran Haitani and Rindou Haitani

𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐨

Mikey lied, he would still love you

— "What's happening with you?" Manjiro questioned you, your relationship wasn't what it used to be, he started to see you as a cold and distant person, making sure there was something wrong.

— "I can't anymore, Manjiro." You answered him, averting your gaze which showed how much you were hurt.

— "...Wait, what do you mean?" Deep down, he already knew that you no longer loved him.

— "I don't love you anymore, I'm sorry." You said in a few words, afraid of his reaction.

— "I already knew... Leave me alone, just get out of my sight!" He yelled at you, Manjiro didn't know how to deal with that feeling of rejection, as much as he loved you, he couldn't handle that situation well.

— "I'm sorry, Manjiro!" You insisted that he forgive you, but he never wanted to talk to you again.

— "I hate you..." Was the last thing you heard from Manjiro.

𝐊𝐞𝐧 𝐑𝐲𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐣𝐢

Draken still managed to be kind despite his heartbreak

Draken had already realized that you were distant, you no longer had the connection you had before, but you made the decision to confess to the tallest that you no longer loved him.

— "I don't love you anymore, Draken, I'm sorry but I can't do this anymore." You said, saying goodbye to him, Draken was without reaction for a few minutes and a kind of melancholy silence took over the environment.

— "It's okay! I care more about your feelings than mine, I hope someone will do what I couldn't do... Make you stay!" He said smiling, you couldn't help noticing the tears that wanted to run down his eyes, despite that, Draken was holding back his tears so as not to hurt you.

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐤𝐢

Takemichi went into despair and felt horrible that you stopped loving him

— "You don't love me anymore, is that what you mean?" Takemichi started to have a crying fit, he already imagined that you had lost your feelings for him, however, he still harbored hopes that you still love him.

— "I'm sorry, Takemichi, but, you're right" You replied, turning your back on him, you couldn't feel anything for Takemichi anymore, so you just sincerely said what you felt.

— "N-no! Don't do this to me, please! Please don't leave me!" He continued to cry, begging you to stay, but you didn't want to be by Takemichi's side anymore, he didn't know how to deal well with what happened, so he became inconsolable.

𝐌𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢

Mitsuya felt disappointed and hurt

— "Mitsuya? I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but, I don't love you anymore..." You confessed to the tallest that you had lost your feelings, Mitsuya was silent and shook his head in denial, he didn't wait for this despite your relationship having changed lately.

— "Thank you for loving me and for all the amazing times we had together, I love you, so please go away and don't come back." Mitsuya continued to be extremely kind, despite that, the boy was completely broken, since he loved you and didn't want you to leave, but it was the right thing to do at that moment, Mitsuya didn't want you to be tied to someone you didn't love.

𝐇𝐚𝐤𝐤𝐚𝐢 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐚

Hakkai felt insufficient

Hakkai knew there was something wrong, you weren't the same person he knew, he felt that his feelings were slipping away, but the boy really hoped that his thoughts about you were just paranoia.

— "I don't love you anymore" You said to the tallest one, who was completely speechless despite having expected it, Hakkai just remained silent and started to cry, trying to hide the tears from his sight.

— "What did I do, tell me, what did I do wrong?" He replied, his voice was shaky and he couldn't even look at you.

— "... I'm sorry, Hakkai." He just walked away without saying a word, Hakkai felt his heart break and could only wonder why he was so insufficient to the point that you stopped feeling something for him.

𝐑𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢

Ran tried to hide his broken heart by treating you with indifference and anger

— "What's wrong with you? You're so distant, cold, you don't even seem like the person who claimed to love me!" Ran questioned you when he began to notice the change in your behavior, you no longer loved him, that was clear.

— "I'm sorry Ran, I don't love you anymore" You replied immediately, failing to hide your lack of love for Ran.

— "What? Are you serious?" Ran couldn't believe what he was hearing, he was angry and hurt at the same time, despite that, he still had hope that you were just lying.

— "I can't Ran anymore, I'm sorry." You said looking away, you could no longer remain beside the tall one without loving him.

— "Go away, I don't want to see you or hear your voice anymore." Ran felt his heart break, he didn't show sadness or anything, he just told you to go away.

𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢

Rindou felt disappointed and totally frustrated

Rindou noticed the changes in your behavior, distance, coldness, lack of affection, it was clear that something was wrong, he didn't question you about what was going on, he just waited for you to say what he already expected.

— "Rin? I'm sorry but... I don't love you anymore." You confessed to the youngest Haitani, he listened to you attentively and didn't show any reaction, he just remained silent watching you with disappointment in his eyes.

— "I hoped you were a different person, go away, I feel awful that I ever believed you really loved me." Rindo was totally cold, despite appearing not to have been affected, he felt an inexplicable sadness, in addition to being really disappointed in you, he accepted your choice, but never looked at you again.