#the physical contact he got was all harsh and painful

[adrift-in-thyme]

Time’s primary love language is touch

[cursedonyx]

HL Cast React to you Cradling Them When They’re Upset

Sebastian Sallow

Sebastian craves physical comfort like a starving man craves bread, but he’s very rarely had the opportunity to express it. Solomon was not the hugging sort, Ominis typically loathes physical contact unless it’s necessary, and Anne… well. The curse makes it hard for her to bear a cuddle for long. Sebastian has trained himself to give brief hugs and pats on the back, if anything at all, worrying that he’ll be seen as clingy, needy, or annoying if he holds on too tight, or too long. The last thing he wants to be is annoying, least of all to you. He has to be strong, he has to be cheerful, he has to be the one that everyone relies on. That means he’s useful, and people will stay by him. He can’t be a burden, or he’ll be abandoned.

So when you find him in the Restricted Section, surrounded by books and weeping into his hands at the sheer hopelessness of everything, he’s stunned when your immediate reaction is to pull him into your lap. He tenses, embarrassed by his display of emotion and afraid of needing you too much. But the longer you hold him, the more his defences crumble, and it’s not long before he’s sobbing into your shoulder, unable to speak, desperate to be held, to be loved, to be given the affection he’s been denied for so long. He clings to you for hours, alternately apologising and crying some more.

Once he’s calmed down enough to think straight, he realises you’ve not let him go. He begins to worry, fretting that you’re only doing this to be nice, but you still don’t let him go. He begins to relax into you, accepting that finally, finally, he can hold and be held like he needs. He’s got years of missing affection to make up for, and this is only the start. From this moment, any moment not touching you is considered a moment wasted, and Sebastian will hold your hand, link your arms together, hook your ankle over his under the table, or simply sit close enough so his arm or leg is up against yours. That is, if he’s not outright hugging you or snuggling you. For the first few months, you’ll be lucky if you get five minutes to visit the loo alone, and he gets twitchy if you’re apart from him for too long.

He's yours for life. Treat him kindly.

Ominis Gaunt

Ominis isn’t really one for physical affection, especially if you’re only friends, or in the early stages of your relationship. He’s not used to it, almost afraid of it, having never really experienced it as a child, and disliking the rough, enthusiastic, inexperienced hugs his friends give. It’s nothing like the tender affection he craves, and ever the gentleman, he’s worried about overstepping his boundaries. Ever the traumatised soul, he’s afraid of asking for what he really wants. He knows this isn’t something he can demand, as he has been taught a Gaunt would.

He doesn’t emote much, especially negative emotions. He’s always been taught to hide negative feelings or any kind of extreme emotion, and he wears that self-control like armour. But he’s not infallible, things still get to him, especially as he bottles things up. So when a particularly barbed jab from another student gets under his skin, he retreats to the Undercroft to rant at the air. This is how you find him, striding up and down and shouting at nothing, as if he’s arguing with someone.

Of course, he’s very embarrassed to be found this way, and tries to cover it by sliding back into the careful neutrality he so often wears. You know better though. You sit behind him, slide your arms around his chest, and pull him into your lap, your hand at the back of his head, letting him rest against you.

It sparks a memory he thought he’d buried. He was four, he’d tripped over and scraped his knee. His parents had scolded him for crying, growing more irate as their harsh words upset him further, and then Aunt Noctua was there, lifting him into her arms and bearing him away from the pain and the anger that was all his parents ever gave him. She’d taken him to her rooms in the Manor and settled in a chair, holding his head to her chest and humming a lullaby, soothing him with a hand on the back of his head.

It’s one of the last memories he has of her, and as it surfaces, he breaks. No matter how much he tries to pull it back, he just can’t, and your arms are iron around him, like a cage. But it’s a cage he doesn’t want to be released from, craving the warmth of your embrace, longing for the love and safety that is such a distant, fragmented memory, something that seemed like an impossible dream until now. He feels he should be embarrassed by this horrendous display of failed control, but he just can’t bring himself to care. It’s a problem for future Ominis. Right now, all he cares about is the feel of your heartbeat against his cheek, the gentle scent of your skin, the feel of your body against his as you hold him so tenderly. To his utter disbelief, you hum a gentle melody. It’s not the lullaby Noctua used to sing, but it’s soft and warm and comforting.

After this, Ominis is much more free with his affection with you, though he still keeps it to a minimum around others. If he’s ever had a bad day, or just needs comforting, he leans into you in a particular way that you come to learn means he wants to be held like that again. He knows you’ll never judge him for it, and he loves you all the more because of it. He becomes increasingly protective of you, fearing losing you, but he is ever respectful of your boundaries.

When he thinks back over all the days you spent together, he realises the time you first held him like that was the moment his subconscious mind began planning your wedding, even if he didn’t know it at the time.

Garreth Weasley

Garreth is a naturally cheerful person, and while he can get irritable, it’s over quickly and he’s back to being happy. It’s very rare for him to get upset for any significant period of time, so it’s quite a shock when you find him in his dorm, head hanging, faded tear-tracks on his cheeks. He tries to brush it off, of course, to make a joke or try to make you laugh, but you know better. You sit beside him and ask, and he tries to change the subject. But with a little prodding, he eventually tells you, grudgingly, miserably, what's made him so down.

It doesn’t take much to convince him to curl up in your arms. Garreth has always been comfortable with affection, and would probably still climb in his mum’s lap if he didn’t worry that he’d flatten her. He’s worried that he’ll squash you and takes a good while for him to relax, but once he does, he fully flops on you, murmuring soft little sounds of contentment as you rub his back or play with his hair. If you try to pull away too soon, he pretends he’s still sad so you’ll cuddle him more, even if he’s feeling on top of the world that you’d be so kind to him.

It tells him that you’re just like him, happy to snuggle and happy to do what’s needed to make him feel good, as he would for you. He feels a deeper bond with you than before, and the rest of Hogwarts can expect to find the pair of you draped over each other in all corners of the castle after this.

Leander Prewett

It’s… a little awkward to begin with, especially because an upset Leander is often a hostile Leander, as it's the way he's learned how to protect himself. You eventually convince him to let you hold him, but it takes a while. Leander is very tall with rather long limbs, so getting him in your lap in the first place is a struggle, especially as he’s so resistant to begin with. He’s already embarrassed enough by being emotional then snappy in front of you, worried that you’re going to make fun of him or worse, pretend to be nice and tease him mercilessly later. It’s the last thing he needs. But, with a little coaxing (and a bit of tugging) you manage to settle him in your lap. Yeah, the height difference is even more noticeable now, but that doesn’t matter to you. You make sure he’s comfy and hold him tight, not saying a word, just letting your hug do the talking for you.

He doesn’t tell you what set him off this time, what made him so upset. But after a long while as he curls around you, his head on your shoulder, his legs dangling over the edge of the chair or bed on which you sit, he tells you little things about his past. Some of them are happy memories or silly stories. Some of them are not. Leander bears his soul to you in bits and pieces, every word he speaks the truth, and all you need to do is listen. This is the moment he truly falls for you, a helpless, headlong tumble, and he would fight a dragon with a wooden sword to keep you from this moment on.

Amit Thakkar

Amit has always worn his heart on his sleeve, and is free with his emotions around you once you two become firm friends, or a couple. He’s a gentleman through and through, though this is mostly down to his natural shyness. He prefers to focus on you and your problems than his own, assuring you that he’s perfectly alright if you find him feeling down. You find him one evening staring down at his telescope, on the verge of tears, as the lens has cracked. He doesn't mind telling you why it's so upsetting to him, expecting a hug or maybe a pat on the back. So it’s quite the surprise to him when you pull him into your lap and snuggle him close, and at first, he’s not sure what to do with himself. He holds himself very still and stiff, and you have to encourage him to relax more than once.

He soon finds himself sinking into your embrace, comforted by your presence and your kindness, the pair of you warming each other atop the chilly Astronomy Tower. He’ll freely admit to you what’s been preying on his mind as the lens was just the straw that broke the camel's back, and shyly admit he really enjoys this particular kind of cuddle. He’ll probably doze off in your lap if you sit like this too long, and Amit is a very heavy sleeper. If he manages to stay awake, he’ll run his hand over your back, trying to reciprocate some of the attention you’re giving him, trying to say without words just how much things like this mean to him.

He won’t indulge often, he likes to be the one holding you, but it’s comforting for him to know that it’s something he can enjoy if he truly needs a pick-me-up.

Andrew Larson

In all fairness, Andrew will be climbing into your lap the moment you give the barest hint that this is what you’re going to do when he’s upset. He’s free with his affection in a more subdued way than Garreth, perhaps, but he makes no secret of how much he loves being snuggled up in your lap. He loves the security of being held, especially if you play with his hair. It’s guaranteed to cheer him up in no time at all, no matter how low he’s feeling. He loves draping his head and arms over your shoulders, and if you’re strong enough to carry him, he’ll fall in love with you if you carry him to bed when he starts to drift off.

In fact, Andrew loves this attention and affection so much he might even make himself get all teary eyed if it means you’ll draw him into your lap and rock him back and forth, even if there’s nothing actually wrong. Once he learns you’ll cuddle him the way he wants regardless if whether he’s actually upset or not, he’ll quit with the crocodile tears and swap them for happy little giggles.

Poppy Sweeting

You’ve barely put your arms around her before Poppy has slung her arms around your neck, swinging her legs up and snuggling into your chest. It’s almost as if she’s been made to fit especially in your lap, her cheek fitting perfectly into the crook of your shoulder. She might play with your hair a little to distract herself from whatever it is that’s upset her, but she’ll be honest with you if you ask what the matter is. She’s always been a cuddly sort, and regardless of whether you’re simply friends or are dating, Poppy’s always going to be giving you hugs or asking for piggyback rides (or just climbing on you anyway). This is a natural progression for the both of you, though Poppy will most likely want to do the same for you the next time you’re upset.

She’s stronger than she looks, so don’t worry about squashing her.

Natsai Onai

Natsai has always been an affectionate soul, but she’s also tough as old iron and rarely shows when she’s upset unless it’s about to overcome her. She learned in her fifth year that she could always reach out to you when she was upset, so that’s what she does. It’s still a surprise for her when you pull her into your lap to hold her, she was only expecting a friendly pat on the back or perhaps a brief hug, but your gesture is welcome nonetheless. It reminds her of the way her father would hold her when she was little, and she takes great comfort in it. It’s not something Natsai will tolerate for long, as she’s always been good at recovering from upset quickly, and being an energetic soul, it’s not long before she’s fidgeting and wanting to move about. She prefers to be the one holding you at any rate, and can sit still for hours if she does. She’s always felt much more comfortable in giving affection than receiving it, though she really does enjoy it when you do.

Imelda Reyes

Lol are you joking? When Imelda’s upset she wants to be alone, and if you try and intrude on her when she’s having a bad day or worse, actually crying, she’ll chase you all through the Highlands just to beat you up. Sure, she’ll probably apologise afterwards when she’s calmed down, but she’s got a reputation to uphold as Hogwarts’ baddest bitch, and she won’t ever let anyone see her cry, let alone in anyone’s lap. Now, if it’s you that’s upset? You can bet your arse she won’t let you get off her lap unless you’re about to pass out or are busting for a piss.

Masterlist

[thewulf]

A Safe Place || Dallas "Dally" Winston

Summary: Request - Can you do a Dally or Darry x female reader where reader is having a really difficult time at home (mom and dad are kinda like Johnny's parents and beat up physically and mentally on reader?)... Read Rest Here

A/N: As long as I live I will forever write The Outsiders. Such a unique group to write. This one is tough but I really love it!

Pairing: Dallas "Dally" Winston x Female Reader (Johnny Cade Sister)

Word Count: 3.3k +

TW: ABUSE, talks of abuse, hitting, bruises, cuts, blood, threats of violence, general Outsiders warnings

As you stumbled through the door of the Curtis household the entire greaser gang turned to look at you. Their expressions shifting from surprise to concern in an instant. Dally was the first to react, his eyes widening in realization as he took in the extent of your injuries.

"Jesus, what happened to you?" Dally's voice was gruff but there was an underlying edge of worry as he approached you. His movements were surprisingly gentle as he took in your battered appearance. His usually stern expression softened which revealed a glimpse of the concern that lurked beneath his tough exterior.

You could feel the weight of their stares. Their unspoken questions hanging heavy in the air. It was clear that they were shocked by the state you were in, and the realization only made you feel more vulnerable. Because for as bad as you felt you just knew you looked 10 times worse. It wasn’t the first time he’d laid hands on you, but it was the first time he didn’t seem to want to stop.

"I-I... I had a run-in with my old man," you managed to choke out. Your voice was barely above a whisper as you fought to hold back the tears brimming at the edge of your eyes. You’d done so good escaping it was suddenly catching up to you what you had just gone through. The words tasted bitter on your tongue. A painful reminder of the nightmare you couldn't escape.

Steve's jaw clenched tight with anger as he took in your bruised and bloodied face, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "That bastard," he muttered under his breath, his voice thick with rage. "He’s gonna pay for this, I swear."

Dally's expression darkened at your words. His features contorted with a mixture of anger and sorrow. "I'll kill him," he growled, his fists clenched at his sides as he fought to contain the rage simmering just beneath the surface. His words hung heavy in the air as it was a promise of retribution that sent a shiver down your spine. The scary part was that you knew he would kill him given the chance. It was one thing with Johnny… but when he saw you so battered he found a rage not even he knew he had.

Instinctively you flinched at his declaration. The raw intensity in his voice triggering a flood of memories you wished you could forget. You had already endured so much, the wounds—both physical and emotional—still fresh and raw. The thought of more violence only served to deepen the pit of dread that churned in your stomach. Sure, you grew up with the greasers but it never made the violence and threats of it any easier.

As if sensing your reaction Dally's eyes softened with remorse. A pang of guilt flickering across his features. He reached out tentatively, his hand hovering uncertainly over your shoulder before finally making the gentlest contact. He was afraid of the bruises underneath your clothes, the ones he couldn’t see. "Hey," he murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle despite the harshness of his earlier words. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

You blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. For all his tough exterior there was a vulnerability in Dally that few ever got to see. A glimpse of the boy beneath the cocky attitude that he showed all too often. As you looked into his eyes you saw not just the anger and the pain, but also the deep-seated compassion that he tried so hard to conceal. His presence was a balm to your battered soul. A reminder that you were not alone in your struggles.

Dally's sharp gaze hardened as he turned to the group just staring at the scene unfolding before them. "Get the hell out of here if you ain’t gonna be useful," he ordered, his voice firm and commanding. "Give us some space guys." The rest of the gang exchanged uneasy glances before nodding in agreement, understanding the need for solitude in such a vulnerable moment. With one last look of concern, they filed out of the room leaving you and Dally in a cocoon of quiet solidarity.

As Soda made to leave with them Dally stopped him with a firm hand on his arm. "Soda, wait," he said, his voice softer now, filled with urgency. "Get the first aid kit and a warm towel. We need to clean her up." Soda nodded in understanding, a determined look crossing his features as he hurried off to retrieve the supplies.

As Soda hurried off to retrieve the supplies, Dally turned his attention back to you, his expression a mix of concern and determination. "Hang in there, sweetheart," he said softly. His voice laced with reassurance as he gently brushed a strand of hair from your face. "We'll get you patched up real quick."

You managed a weak smile. So grateful for his comforting words amidst the raging emotions swirling inside you. Despite the pain and the fear that still lingered there was a sense of relief knowing that you were in capable hands. You were being taken care of the boy who cared deeply for your well-being.

A knowing smile just ghosted over Soda's lips as he returned with the first aid kit and a warm towel. He was silently acknowledging the unspoken bond between you and Dally. He knew how much Dally had loved you for so long. And seeing the two of you together now filled him with a bittersweet sense of pride. He’d never seen Dallas so gentle.

With practiced efficiency, Dally and Soda set to work cleaning and dressing your wounds. Their movements gentle yet purposeful as they tended to each cut and bruise with care. Dally's hands were surprisingly gentle as he worked. A stark contrast to the roughness you had come to expect from him. However, even he wasn’t perfect. There was a moment when Dally accidentally pressed a little too hard on one of your bruises causing you to let out an involuntary yelp of pain. Instantly his expression shifted. A look of sadness crossing his features as he realized his mistake.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he murmured. His voice filled with genuine remorse as he gently pulled back, his hands hovering uncertainly over your injured skin. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I'll be more careful, I promise."

You could see the sincerity in his eyes. It was layered with a depth of emotion you hadn't seen from him before. A stark reminder that beneath his tough exterior there was that vulnerability he tried so hard to conceal. You saw not just the pain and the regret in his eyes but also the profound sense of care and affection that he held for you.

"It's okay, Dally, really" you reassured him, your voice soft as you reached out to place a comforting hand on his arm. "I know you didn't mean it. I’m so lucky to have you."

His gaze softened at your words. A small flicker of gratitude passing between you as you shared a moment of understanding. Despite the rough edges and the scars that marked his soul there was a gentleness to Dally that few ever got to see. A side of him that he reserved for those he held closest to his heart. A side that only seemed reserved for you.

With a nod of appreciation Dally resumed his careful ministrations. His touch lighter and more cautious than before. And as he worked to tend to your wounds with a renewed focus, you couldn't help but feel a swell of affection for the boy who had always been there for you. Always, no questions asked.

As Dally apologized profusely and you reassured him, Soda noticed the exchange between you two. Sensing the depth of emotion in the room he took a step back giving you and Dally a moment of privacy. There was that knowing look in Soda's eyes, an acknowledgment of the connection between you and Dally. With a subtle nod Soda retreated to give you both some space. His intuition telling him that this was a moment that needed to be shared between just the two of you. As he busied himself with tidying up the first aid supplies before exiting the room, he couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth fill his chest for the two of you.

Once Dally finished tending to your wounds with careful precision a flood of emotions washed over you. Threatening to overwhelm your fragile composure. The physical pain had subsided only to be replaced now by a tidal wave of raw emotion that surged through your veins like a raging river. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you struggled to contain the torrent of feelings that threatened to consume you. It wasn't just the pain of your injuries that brought you to tears, but the weight of everything you had endured, the fear, the loneliness, the relentless cycle of abuse that had plagued your life for so long.

You cried for your little brother, lost and alone in a world that had turned its back on him. Your Johnny. You cried for the father who had betrayed your trust as his fists rained down upon you with a cruelty that knew no bounds. But most of all you cried for Dally, for his unexpected gentleness and the overwhelming sense of safety and comfort that he had provided in your darkest hour.

As you sat with Dally in the quiet intimacy of the room you felt a sense of release wash over you. A cathartic release of pent-up emotion that had been building inside you for far too long. And as the tears flowed freely down your cheeks you knew that you were not alone. That you were loved and cherished by the one person who had always been there for you, offering his unwavering support and understanding in the face of adversity.

As your tears flowed Dally's heart ached with a depth of emotion he had never allowed himself to fully acknowledge before. Without hesitation, he shifted, pulling you fully onto his lap, cradling you against his chest with a tenderness that was so different than his tough exterior. His arms wrapped around you protectively creating a safety that enveloped you both.

He rubbed soothing circles on your back. His touch a comforting reassurance of his unwavering support. In the quietness of the moment, he whispered words of comfort and encouragement. His voice a gentle murmur in the stillness of the room.

Feeling your sobs intensify he tightened his embrace. His hold on you was firm yet gentle as if trying to absorb some of the pain that wracked your body and soul. With each shuddering breath you took he squeezed you tighter. His touch was a silent reassurance that he was there for you. He would never let you face your demons alone.

"You're safe now, sweetheart," he murmured. His breath warm against your ear. "You don't have to be strong all the time. Let it out. I'm here for you."

His words were a lifeline in the darkness, a reminder that you were not alone in your pain. With each gentle stroke of his hand against your back, he offered you solace and understanding, his touch a silent promise of his unwavering support.

"It's okay to cry," he whispered, his voice a gentle murmur in the stillness of the room. "I've got you. I won't let anyone hurt you again, I swear it."

His heart broke for you, for the girl he cared for more deeply than he dared to admit. In that moment, as he held you close, he wished he could take away all the pain and suffering you had endured, to shield you from the cruelties of the world with nothing more than his love.

As time passed your sobs gradually subsided leaving behind a lingering sense of emptiness and exhaustion. In the quiet aftermath of your tears, you took a shaky breath. Your chest still tight with emotion. Dally held you close.

Feeling his steady heartbeat beneath your ear you found solace in the warmth of his embrace. With a heavy sigh you finally found the strength to speak. Your voice trembling with the weight of the words you had kept buried deep within your heart.

"I miss him," you spoke. Your voice barely above a whisper as you spoke of your little brother, lost and alone in a world that had turned its back on him. "I miss Johnny so much it hurts."

Tears welled up in your eyes once more, threatening to spill over as you thought of your brother who had been forced to run away. His pure innocence stolen by the cruelty of the world.

"I miss the way things used to be," you continued. Your voice filled with longing as you spoke of a time before your father's descent into darkness, before the alcohol and the violence tore your family apart. "I miss when my dad wasn't a drunk, when he was still my dad, you know?"

Your words hung heavy in the air, a poignant reminder of the innocence you had lost, of the life that seemed so distant and foreign now. In the safety of Dally's embrace, you allowed yourself to mourn the loss of the past, to grieve for the family that had been torn apart by forces beyond your control.

As you spoke of missing Johnny, Dally's embrace tightened. His arms offering you a sense of strength and stability amidst the chaos of your emotions. His voice was gentle as he responded. His words a quiet reassurance in the face of your pain.

"I know, sweetheart," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. "We all miss him. But you know Johnny, he's resourceful as hell. And with Pony by his side? Those two can handle anything."

There was a quiet conviction in Dally's voice. It was a steadfast belief in Johnny's resilience that offered you a glimmer of hope in the darkness. Despite the uncertainty of his fate, you found comfort in Dally's unwavering confidence. He was a reminder that you were not alone in your worries for your brother.

"And your dad..." Dally trailed off, his voice heavy with sympathy as he spoke of the man who had once been your protector, now reduced to a shadow of his former self. "He's not the man you remember, I know. But that ain't your fault, darlin'. None of this is."

His words were a lifeline in the darkness, a reminder that you were not to blame for the sins of your father, that you deserved love and happiness just as much as anyone else. In the safety of his embrace, you allowed yourself to mourn the loss of the past, to grieve for the family that had been torn apart by forces beyond your control.

But even as the tears continued to fall, you knew that you were not alone. That Dally was there for you and always ready to offer his unwavering support and understanding in the face of your pain. As you clung to each other in the quiet darkness you found solace in the simple act of being together.

As your emotions opened you realized your love for him wasn't triggered by a simple moment. But rather by a complex series of events that had been building up over time. It was the culmination of countless conversations, shared moments, and lingering glances that had slowly but surely chipped away at the walls around your heart.

It started with the little things. Like the way he always seemed to know exactly what to say to make you laugh or the way he would brush a strand of hair from your face with a tenderness that took your breath away. It was the late-night conversations that stretched into the early hours of the morning, the whispered confessions and shared secrets that bound you together in ways you couldn't explain. But it was also the bigger moments. The ones that left you reeling with emotion and uncertainty. There was a time you called, and he showed up at your door in the middle of the night. No questions he was there as his face drawn and tired, and you knew without a doubt that he would always be there for you, no matter what.

As you looked into his eyes and saw the depth of his feelings reflected back at you, something shifted inside you. It was as if all the pieces fell into place like a puzzle finally coming together after years of searching. And in that moment, you knew. You knew that you couldn't keep it to yourself any longer, that you had to tell him how you felt, no matter the consequences.

So, you took a deep breath. Steeling yourself for what was to come, and you let the words spill from your lips in a rush of emotion. It was messy and imperfect, but it was real. It was true. And it was exactly what you needed to say.

"I... Dally, I just... I don't even know where to start," you began. Your voice trembling with emotion as you struggled to find the right words. "But I can't keep it in any longer. I think... no, I know I... I love you. Like, really love you."

Your admission hung heavy in the air, a confession so raw and honest that it left you feeling exposed, vulnerable. But as you looked into Dally's eyes, filled with a mixture of surprise and tenderness, you knew that you had made the right decision to speak your truth.

"I know it sounds crazy," you continued, your words tumbling out in a rush. "But it's true. You've always been there for me, through thick and thin. And it's not just because you're always there to clean up my messes or protect me from the world, although you do a damn good job of that. It's because... because I genuinely care about you, Dallas Winston. I care about you more than I ever thought possible. And it scares me sometimes, how much I care."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you bared your soul to him, laying your feelings bare for the world to see. But as you spoke, a sense of relief washed over you, knowing that you had finally spoken the words that had been weighing on your heart for so long.

"And I know it's a lot to take in," you concluded, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I had to tell you. I couldn't keep it to myself any longer."

For a moment, the air felt thick with anticipation. The intensity of your confession hanging between you like a tangible thing. And then as if a switch had been flipped, the hardness in Dally's eyes melted away. Replaced by a warmth that seemed to radiate from deep within him.

A soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth gradually blossoming into a grin that lit up his entire face. It was a grin like you'd never seen before. A grin that reached all the way to his eyes filling them with a light you hadn't realized was missing.

His fingers brushed gently against your tear-stained cheeks. His touch tender and affectionate as he cupped your face in his hands. There was a sense of wonder in his expression, as if he couldn't quite believe what was happening, as if he had never dared to hope for this moment.

"Damn, sweetheart," he breathed. His voice tinged with awe. "I never knew you had it in you. Talking like that. But I'm glad you did. Because, hell, I love you too. I always have."

His words sent a rush of warmth through you. A feeling of elation that bubbled up from deep within your chest. And as you looked into his eyes, shining with a happiness you had never seen before, you knew that this was just the beginning of something beautiful, something real and true and utterly perfect.

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[girlgenius1111]

one step forward and three steps back

warnings: blood, panic attack, self harm, relapse. seriously, if you are even slightly concerned that this could be triggering for you, don't read it.

Ingrid-fight.

The weeks following your breakdown were easier than you'd anticipated. You'd taken a couple weeks off, spending the time focusing on your mental health, at Alexia and Jona's insistence. The club told the media that you were taking time for your mental health, which mostly went over well. Some, however, thought the club was being too soft. They only saw you get a red card, and take weeks off from playing; it was a tantrum you were throwing, not taking time for yourself.

Your return game saw you in the starting lineup, along with Mapi and Alexia. Ingrid was still out, being careful with her leg. You were doing better, able to focus more on playing, as well as being significantly less reckless on the pitch. Your hand had healed, and it really should have been your game.

Unfortunately for you, though, was that the other team was desperate to win. Not that every team wasn't, but the dirty tackles coming in every other minute made it clear that they were on a mission. Still, you'd managed to stay out of trouble until it was almost the end of the game.

You were trying to beat a defender, one of the players that had been playing particularly roughly. Normally, you didn't mind this, never not up for a physical challenge. What you didn't appreciate, however, was the elbow thrown into your face, connecting directly with first your nose, and then your eye.

"Fucking hell," You cried out, hands flying to your face as the other girl took the ball. The whistle blew almost instantly, and she groaned. You were pissed. "What, did you think they added throwing elbows when you can't do your job into the rulebook?" You asked her, feeling blood beginning to stream steadily out of your nose.

Your teammates and the ref were still making their way over to you, and only some of them caught the girls response.

"Gonna need to take another few weeks off? Your nose probably needs a mental health break, huh?" She said condescendingly. Alexia and Mapi sped up at this, breaking into runs to get to you. Sure enough, no sooner had the words left her mouth, and you were taking your hands away from your nose, and giving her a harsh shove. She shoved back, and both of you had fists raised by the time you were separated.

Mapi wrapped an arm around your waist, dragging you back. "Easy there, the ref will take care of it," she told you, as you fought against her grasp. You were annoyed, Mapi was normally down for a fight. Instead, she was speaking in soothing tones, her calm eyes meeting your wild ones.

"She said-"

"I know what she said, but your face is bleeding, so sit down and let the physios check you, bueno?" Mapi was pissed, but she could hear Alexia talking to the ref behind her, and felt that as much as she wanted to slap that stupid girl across the face, she was more helpful here, making you take a seat as the physios arrived.

With a huff, you relented, sitting down. The pain in your face was becoming harder to ignore, and you didn't know if you believed the guy when he told you your nose wasn't broken, only badly bruised.

"Feels fucking broken," you said, attempting to add some bite to your words. Instead, they came out all choked, and you realized you were about to cry.

Mapi put a hand on your shoulder, not used to this response. You normally didn't cry when you got hurt, and she realized the comment from the other girl had affected you more than you'd probably admit. Mapi made eye contact with the physio and shook her head slightly, He signaled to the bench for a sub.

"You said it wasn't broken!" you protested.

"No, but you should ice it. No reason to take any unnecessary risks." He told you, and you knew that he and Mapi were just aware that you were upset, not thinking that you really needed to go off. You were going to argue, when Alexia stepped up, fixing you with her general look of "do what they say or I'll yell." You weren't in the mood for any yelling, so you relented, stomping off to the sidelines, without another word to your teammates. You noticed with some satisfaction that the other girl had gotten a red.

You stalked off the pitch, heading for the locker room, and Ingrid fell into step beside you.

"Leave me alone." You told her, wanting to cry in peace. You weren't sure why you were so upset with that girl's comment, but you were.

"No," she responded, meeting your glare with a smile. "Not letting you break another hand." She joked, and you mumbled an insult under your breath. She ignored it, following you into the locker room and watching as you threw yourself down in front of your locker.

Ingrid brought over a towel and some ice, insistently holding them out to you. After you took them, wiping the blood off your face, and pressing the ice to your nose, she sat next to you.

"You looked upset out there." She remarked.

"Yeah well. Elbow to the face." You responded.

"It looked like she said something to you," Ingrid pressed. You paused, before deciding to tell Ingrid what she said. her response would tell you whether you were being dramatic or not. After you'd spoken, Ingrid's eyes narrowed.

"What a little bitch," she seethed, and you huffed out a laugh, that quickly turned into a sob. Ingrid looked at you, startled, before wrapping an arm around your shoulders, rubbing her hand up and down your arm.

"I don't know why I'm crying, it wasn't that bad. It was just mean and my nose hurts and I hate that stupid girl," you blubbered, and Ingrid held back a laugh.

"It's alright, y/n, you're allowed to be upset. It was mean. And it was about something that's sensitive to you, it makes sense why you're upset." She told you rationally. Ingrid had a way of speaking that made whatever she said make sense, instantly believable. You wiped the remaining tears off your face, before quietly thanking her. She squeezed your shoulders, and you both lapsed into silence.

You were impressed with Ingrid, for being able to make you feel better so fast. Ingrid was impressed with you, for expressing your feelings without her having to drag them out of you. It was clear that you were improving, and it filled her with relief. But for every step forward, there's always a step back. Or two.

-----

Mapi- panic.

You weren't really sure what had happened. One second, you were out with the team, celebrating a win in a club. It was a rare occasion for your captains [mostly Alexia], to agree to a night out in the middle of the season, so everyone had taken full advantage. You were dancing with Pina and Patri, surrounded by other people, when you felt it; the beginnings of panic starting to rise within you.

Maybe it was the crowded room, the lack of oxygen, the alcohol, or just a random fit of anxiety. Regardless of the reason, you were quickly growing more panicked. Without a word to either girl you were with, you had spun around and were pushing your way out of the crowd, off the dance floor. You broke free of the crowd, not processing anything happening around you. You still felt like the room was out of air though, so you headed for the door, stumbling slightly as you pushed your way out.

You leaned against the wall, gasping for breath. The air outside was cooler, more plentiful, yet you still couldn't seem to get enough into your body. You slid to the ground, pressing your hands to your face as you tried desperately to regain control. You couldn't hear much except for a faint ringing sound, and you felt completely untethered from the world.

Until you felt a hand on your shoulder. You jerked your head up to find Mapi's concerned face looking down at you. You relaxed slightly, knowing it wasn't a random stranger, putting your head back in your hands.

You felt Mapi take a seat next to you, her hand moving slowly up and down your back. She took one of your hands away from your face, and pressed it to her chest. You felt the steady rise and fall of her breaths, and forced yourself to match them. Your breaths were still stuttering, but they began to slow. You weren't sucking in air as desperately anymore, and the ringing in your ears was giving way to Mapi's gravelly voice.

"In and out, just like that," she said as you began to process her words. "Good, just take it slow. You're safe, I've got you," she told you, her voice and touch working well to calm you.

"Sorry," you gasped out, although you weren't really sure why you were apologizing.

"That's alright, pequeña, you can't help it." She replied. Once you were almost completely calm, she wrapped her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into her. "What happened?" she asked, and you could hear the note of protection in her voice.

"Don't know. Too many people I think," you told her, resting your head against the wall behind you as you breathed in and out. "I'll be okay in a minute," you said.

"Take your time, I've got no where else to be," she said, resting her chin on your head.

It still struck you how much your friends cared for you. Even when you felt like they shouldn't, even when you knew it would be easier for them to give up on you, or let you handle it alone, they never did. And they never would, no matter what.

-----

Alexia - relapse.

You hadn't meant for it to happen- really. You'd been doing better. You were working with a therapist, and you'd started medication. It was clear that you desperately needed both of these things, and they were helping. You were naive to think that it would be only up from there though. Looking back, you'd realize the increase in dosage in your medication had just gone horribly wrong, the way that it could in rare cases. Having a clear reason didn't make what happened disappear though.

It had been a bad day. You'd woken up in an inexplicably bad mood. It had been a while since the familiar heavy cloud of gloom had settled over you, but as you headed to training, you felt it once again. The weight pushed down on you insistently, and as a result, you practiced worse. Your passes weren't connecting, shots weren't going in, and you kept tripping over your own feet.

This only made your mood worse, and by the time practice ended, you were incredibly frustrated with yourself. You avoided conversation, everyone discussing exciting plans for the night since you all had the day off tomorrow. You left the locker room quickly, missing the glances exchanged as you opened the door harder than necessary. You really should have expected to be stopped by your friends, but you were so in your head, you didn't hear them approaching. You jumped when Mapi placed a tattooed hand on your shoulder, halting you in your tracks.

When you turned to look at her, her face was pinched with concern, and you felt yourself grow more frustrated; you weren't supposed to be worrying your friends anymore, you were fine. Alexia stood behind her, watching you carefully. They both had yet to shower, still in their training kits, and you wondered if they were waiting so they could check on you.

"You alright pequeña?" Mapi asked. You nodded, sighing as both girls continued to look at you, clearly not believing you.

"Just a rough day." You told them.

"Do you want one of us to come home with you?" Alexia asked, keeping her voice low and soothing, expecting you to reject the idea. It was something they'd made you promise after that night. If you weren't feeling okay, you were supposed to tell them. You had yet to do this, with things improving, and you didn't want to start now. Admitting that you were having a bad day was one thing, but admitting that your thoughts were going dark was another. You were better, you were supposed to be better.

So, you convinced yourself that you'd be fine on your own, and you told Alexia as much. "No, I'm fine, I promise. I'm just gonna go home and relax." Your plans for the rest of the day consisted of laying in bed until you felt less like your every move was heavy.

The older girls gave you searching looks, but relented, reminding you that they were just a phone call away. They'd slowly begun to trust you again, since that night, trust you'd earned. They'd been able to see your improvements, and as a result, assumed that if you needed them, you'd tell them.

They were wrong.

------

In hindsight, maybe going home by yourself while in the midst of a depressive episode might not have been the best idea. Arriving home, you had tried to distract yourself, which was hard when you barely had the energy to sit upright. You settled yourself on your couch, not bothering to try to eat. You pulled your favorite blanket around your shoulders, settling in against the cushions, putting a random show on. You fell asleep watching TV, with the hopes that when you woke up, you'd feel better.

Instead, you woke up after the sun had set, feeling much worse. Your apartment was completely dark, although the curtains were wide open. You didn't bother with turning the lights on, staying in the same position on the couch as you began to spiral.

The deep sadness that had nestled it's way into the very core of your being this morning had given way some, to numbness. The numbness was normally where things went south. A combination of despair, but the inability to access those emotions choked you. You felt, so deeply, but you couldn't bring it to the surface. Instead, the shadows of these emotions danced just outside your grasp, leaving you desperate for something, anything, other than blank paralysis.

This was normally the point you turned to unhealthy coping mechanisms. Not often, and not for a while, but still, the once the thought popped into your head, you couldn't get rid of it. You knew it was the only thing that could bring you back into yourself, melt the freeze in your brain. The pain never failed at this; you knew it was bad, knew you shouldn't need to resort to this, but sitting there on your couch, you couldn't really think of any other option.

Robotically, you stood up from the couch, pausing as your phone fell to the ground off your lap. There were a few notifications you'd missed, and you stopped, opening them. All were from various teammates group chats. You ignored most of them, opening up the thread with Alexia, Mapi, and Ingrid. Your mind was clouded, focused on the task you had set your mind to, but still, a small part of it reminded you that you didn't have to do this. You had people that could help, would help, wanted to help.

You remembered, though, that they were out tonight. It was Ingrid and Mapi's anniversary, and the spaniard was taking Ingrid somewhere ridiculous and fancy. Alexia had some Barcelona related benefit. Realistically, you knew they'd all drop everything to come to you if you told them you needed them, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. One time wouldn't hurt. You could do it again, just this once. They'd never have to know.

-----

Pulling the blade away from your skin, you watched as blood trailed down your thigh. You didn't feel better, not like you normally did. The feelings had come rushing back to you after the first cut, but they didn't relinquish their grip on you as you continued. You felt desperate, filled with anguish, with no clear way to get rid of it.

Well, there was one way. As soon as you had that thought, you began to panic. You hadn't thought like this in a really long time, and it scared the hell out of you. It was like you were fighting between two parts of yourself, one that wanted you to be okay, and one that didn't care if you were okay, as long as you didn't feel like this anymore. The latter had won out, earlier. You were terrified that if you didn't do something, it would win again.

You forced yourself to breath, to think logically. You grabbed a towel from the shelf next to you. You leaned back against the wall, pressing it tightly against your leg. You just needed to do one thing at a time and everything would be okay. Reaching up to the bathroom counter, you grabbed your phone.

This was the hardest part. Harder than dragging the blade across your skin, harder than hiding your scars. Scars you'd reopened now. Your hand shook as you considered your options. Your mind had cleared slightly, self preservation instincts kicking in.

Ingrid and Mapi deserved a nice anniversary. Alexia hated social events. She'd probably tell you that you were doing her a favor if you called. Probably not when she heard why you called, but regardless.

Taking another breath, you clicked her contact, anxiety finding it's way into your gut.

"Hola, y/n." Alexia answered rather quickly, and you knew then that she hadn't really believed you earlier.

"Ale." You choked the word out, eyes suddenly full of tears. You didn't sound like yourself. Now that she was on the phone with you, the weight of what you'd done, and what you'd considered, was hitting you full force.

"Que paso?" Alexia asked, voice switching from casual to worried instantly. You could picture her expression, the one she got when she was giving someone instructions, or arguing with a ref, an intensity that made her the player that she was. It also made her the friend that she was. You tried to reply, but the words wouldn't come out of your mouth.

"Y/n, I need you to tell me what's happening, now" Alexia said almost frantically. The background of people talking had disappeared and you knew she was leaving, moving fast to get to you.

"I-... I need you," you responded finally, barely getting the words out. You were sucking in air faster now, tears falling freely.

"Okay, I'm coming to you now, nena. I'll be there in 10 minutes," Alexia told you. Her soft tone was one reserved for very few people; at that moment, you counted yourself very lucky that you were one of them. "Are you safe?" She asked, feeling like she already knew the answer.

You weren't really sure how to respond to that. The bleeding had stopped, so you weren't medically in danger. The blade was across the bathroom from you, and Alexia was on her way, so you doubted you'd be able to do any more damage. Your thoughts were still rather dire, but you were focusing on Alexia, on her voice, and the sound of her getting in her car and starting the engine.

"I'm not really sure," you settled on. The Catalan wasn't sure what to make of that response.

"Are you at home?"

"Si"

"Are you hurt?"

You paused, and she knew the answer. You heard the engine increasing in volume as she accelerated. "Pequeña, do you need an ambulance?" Alexia asked. The question made her nauseous but she forced herself to remain focused, to not get caught up in her feelings.

"No. Stopped bleeding." You replied, shutting your eyes tightly as she inhaled a sharp breath. You hated this, hated it so much.

"Okay, that's good, nena. Can you take a breath for me?" You did as she asked, realizing that you'd been holding in air. "Bien, muy bien. I'm almost there, okay? Stay on the phone with me."

"Okay," came your response, voice quiet. Neither of you spoke much after that, Alexia aware that you were struggling to reply, and relying on the sound of your breaths to assure her that you were alright.

She told you when she arrived, though, parking the car and jumping in the elevator. The call cut out while she was in there, which you'd been expecting. As you waited for her to enter the apartment, trusting that she'd use her spare key, you took in the sight in front of you. You didn't pull the towel away from your thigh, but you looked at the red staining the bath mat, the blade discarded where you'd thrown it. Pulling your attention from it, you focused on the door, hearing Alexia move hastily through your apartment.

She opened the door, and had to stifle a gasp. She'd tried to prepare herself, but nothing she could picture in her mind was like seeing it in person. You were sat against the wall, white blood stained towel pressed to your leg. You shorts were pulled up, revealing the scars on your other leg. You were wearing an old training shirt, and there was blood on that too. You were shaking slightly, eyes big and cheeks tearstained. What struck her most was how scared you looked.

"Oh, pequeña," she said, voice breaking. You dropped your gaze at her words, biting your lip to stop yourself from crying. She crouched down next to you, placing a hand on your cheek. She pressed her lips to your forehead, desperate to give you any comfort she could. "I'm here, I've got you. We'll take care of it, alright?" She said, words thick with emotion. You nodded shakily, and she stood back up, pulling the first aid kit out from under your sink. She took a seat back next to you, pausing.

"Can you take the towel off, nena?" Alexia asked. She didn't want to push you too hard, not sure how you'd respond. Wordlessly, you pulled it off your leg, wincing where it stuck to the skin. Alexia swallowed hard, the sight worse than she anticipated.

"Okay. I'm going to disinfect, and then I'm going to cover them." You nodded, still not having spoken. She pulled out a couple of alcohol wipes, opening 3 all at once. "This is gonna sting, tell me if you need a break, okay?" Again, you only nodded. Alexia worked fast, cleaning the wounds. You didn't ask for a break, but she noticed you flinch every so often, let out sharper exhales. She put anti-infection cream on before deciding against bandaids. Instead, she placed a piece of gauze on, wrapping it with medical adhesive tape.

You looked down, taking in the neatly wrapped area. It looked much better like this, much more manageable. Alexia stood to wash her hands. She dried them off, before turning back to you. You were staring at your red stained hands. She reached down, guiding you to stand, before pulling you to the sink, and helping you wash the blood off of them. You were docile under her grasp, blankly following her instructions. She led you out of the bathroom, quickly helping you change out of your blood stained clothes, and into clean ones. She pulled clothes out of your closet for herself, too, changing out of the suit she'd worn the the benefit. She wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, and she'd rather be comfortable.

You found yourself sitting on the couch, like you had been before. This time though, the lights were on, and the room felt warm, inviting, as opposed to cold and lonely. Alexia moved around, keeping an eye on you as she made you a mug of tea. She sat down next to you, typing quickly on her phone before turning to you.

You felt better. Not great, not really even good, but better. You got a better grasp on your emotions, and began to connect the dots in your head. This had been so out of the blue. Normally, you only reached this point after weeks of being down. It was clear to you, now, that increasing your dosage of your meds had been a mistake. You'd always heard warnings, about how in rare cases an antidepressant could increase depression, thoughts of... the things you'd done. And the things you'd thought about doing. The explanation made you feel a little calmer.

Alexia, on the other hand, did not know what had happened. She was trying to give you some time to process, but she was going crazy. You hadn't spoken to her since she'd arrived, and you were sitting next to her, clearly deep in thought.

"Y/n, can you please tell me what you're thinking?" She finally asked. You startled slightly, before nodding your head. You explained your theory, of why what had happened happened.

"I just need to go back down on my meds. Or try a different one." Alexia felt relieved, but not completely. She could see you trying to convince yourself that, because there was a clear explanation, it was fine. You were fine. That this wasn't a big deal. She also could tell that you were trying not to let yourself get upset about it.

"I'm glad you understand why this happened, we can go see the psychiatrist tomorrow," she said, carefully contemplating her next words. "That was still really scary, nena."

"I'm so sorry, Ale. I'm so sorry you had to see that, that I called, that I messed up again and scared you," you rambled, clearly thinking she was talking about being scared herself. She had been terrified, but that's not what she meant.

"No, I meant for you. Having those thoughts must have been really frightening, especially out of the blue like that." Alexia replied, and you looked away. "Please, please, do not ever apologize for this. For any of it. I don't care that you scared me, I'm just glad you called. So glad, and so so proud of you, pequeña." She implored, watching carefully as you shook your head unconsciously.

"I messed up, you shouldn't be proud of me," was all you said. You looked like you were about to cry again, and Alexia couldn't resist pulling you into her arms. You let her, resting your head on her chest, blinking rapidly to try to stave off the tears.

"Well, I am proud of you. You called me. You wouldn't have done that a few months ago." She paused, thoughtful. She was trying to think of something that would relieve your guilt, your disappointment in yourself. "Relapses are part of recovery, y/n. It sucks, but they are. Relapsing doesn't make you weak, or a bad person. I know you feel like you should be better, but it's okay if you're not. Because of your medicine, or because of anything else. There's no timeline here, no requirements of being okay that you have to meet. All you need to do is try your best. And you are, I can tell. You asked for help when you needed it, and that is something to celebrate."

You looked up at her, the hopeful expression on your face making her heart clench. "I haven't let you down?" You asked quietly.

"No, nena. You haven't let anyone down. I was scared, yes, but all I feel right now is love for you, and pride for you." She said, determined for you to believe her. You were starting to. Her tone, her face, were so full of conviction, it was hard to do anything but listen.

"Thank you for coming so fast."

"I'll always come when you need me, as fast as I can." Her reply was almost instant. Alexia watched as you smiled weakly at her, before it dropped from your face, and tears welled in your eyes yet again. "What is it, pequeña," she wondered, rubbing a hand up and down your back. You leaned your head back against her, speaking into the fabric of her sweatshirt.

"I have to start all over again," you choked out.

Alexia sighed. "I know, I'm sorry. But we're all gonna be here again, okay? All of us, for every second."

They'd proven they'd be there for you, time and time again. Their commitment to being good friends, to taking care of you, was what made you believe that you were worth it. They were some of the best people you knew, and if they were going to be there every step of the way, the journey must be worth it.

-----

I hope you guys enjoyed :). Obviously a super heavy part. I'm not really sure what else to say, other than I hope that if you read this, it can bring you comfort in some way. Asking for help is terrifying, but it's so worth it, I promise. You deserve to feel good, and be happy.

[silaslich]

Quiet sunlit places

Simon “Ghost” Riley x f!reader [callsign - Scout]

Summary - Times change and so does Scout’s relationship with Ghost. It’s been weeks since she’s seen him and she’s happy to see him when he comes home.

Wc - 8.6k

Cw - 18+, smut, fingering, PinV sex, mention of injury, established relationship, soft Ghost, written in 3rd person with no physical description of female character whatsoever

Dreary raining England.

A sharp bite in the cold spring breeze, all wet grass and misted fog, sitting heavy in the air. Soil and earth. Petrichor permeating on the wind, carrying with it the change in season. The bloom in the flowers and the shifting shade of colour in the leaves that sit stark on the branches.

The sunrise was barely breaking over the horizon, peachy-violet sky blotched with peeling yellow clouds and tints of silvery blue. Yet, despite the hour, Scout had already been up for hours, body unable to slacken and take a back step due to the ever changing internal clock she was forced to accustom herself to.

It wasn’t a problem, not really, not when it was this peaceful back in Herefordshire.

Back at Stirling Lines, back to where it all first started for her and most of her squadron too. These training grounds and drill fields; grazed knees and busted lips, split knuckles and bruised bodies. Harsh words thrown with no true malice behind them, wet clothes sticking to skin and hours spent laying in the ankle-deep mud.

These memories. Scout could still remember the aches and the pains; pins and needles in her legs from kneeling for hours on end, her neck and shoulders sore from having to hold the weight of a teammate across her back for extraction drills, all of it felt like it were just yesterday.

Back when she was merely a wet behind the ears trooper, willing to please, awaiting her next command with the same eagerness of a heeling dog. She had always wanted to test the waters to see how far she could go; a test of her wills and patience and determination, a real taster for what was to come. For what the army would make of her. Going back to those times, it got Scout thinking, realising just how far she’d come in the years since she’d joined up.

No longer was she that cocky teenager with a big mouth and even bigger hunger for validation; desperate to fit in and find a place. Maybe her cockiness had shifted into a more self aware confidence, the self acknowledgment that she did in fact know what she was doing- and she did it fucking well.

~

She ran until she felt the familiar burn searing in her lungs. Feet hitting the ground in lengthened strikes, one two one two one two, patterned and controlled in tandem. Her lips agape, greedily heaving on air as she pushed for a sprint, arms swinging as her hair stuck to the perspiration on her forehead. She rounded the end of the field length, trainers scuffing against the tarmac as she slowed down too quickly, heaving chest straining as she braced her palms on her knees- sucking down air.

The pain was caught in her sternum, a ripened burn, sickly and exhilarating all the same. She whistled as she straightened up, stretching her spine till she was arched back slightly, swinging her arms to cross over the top of her head to allow more air into her poor-screaming lungs. Somehow, a smile found its way to her lips, toothy and giddy. Pulse racing under her skin, buzzing with so much adrenaline that she needed to walk it off, let the steam billow away on the crisp breeze as she jogged laps to sate the itch of fire in her bloodstream.

It had been weeks since the entirety of 141 had all been together under the same roof. After the explosion incident in buttfuck Mexico, it seemed the missions were now staggered; for Scout at least. Laswell’s attempt to ease her back in gently, you need to walk before you can run she’d said.

Scout had been sent on more reconnaissance based infills, gathering information, tagging phone lines and contact points, get in-get out type shit. Gaz had been more than efficient company, made it all the more easy, in and out without a hitch, without so much as a footprint in the sand.

It had been more than two months. Scout’s broken collarbone had healed within one and for a fleeting moment, as soon as she got her medical clearance, that wet behind the ears rookie was back. Waiting for more, chomping at the bit to get a move on and get down to the nitty gritty, to find some real sustenance to sink her canines into. She’d kept herself busy, not allowing the pull in her fractured ribs or the ache in her clavicle to hold her back; she hit the treadmill and ran laps, sweat slicked skin and furrowed brow, pushing through the pain - determined to keep her place within the team, unable to comprehend what would happen if she were sent on medical leave.

When the first mission from Laswell came in after Scout had healed, the soldier had actually jumped out of her chair; Price, Ghost, Soap and Gaz all eyeing her from their peripherals as Laswell continued with her brief via video call. All of them stuffed into a meeting room, blue felt chairs that were uncomfortable and small, the blinds a dusty beige, stifling atmosphere suddenly feather light to Scout with the bright prospect of leaving base.

Scout accepted without question, a swell in her chest as she insisted to Laswell that she was more then fit to take on the task, she didn’t want to focus on the blistering gaze that folded over her from across the other side of the table, she could feel it, strong and burrowing as it dug into her flesh. When the team filed out of the room to head for dinner in the canteen, Ghost had stayed behind the group, still eyeing up Scout as she fell into step with Soap, lapping up his conversation like she always did. He watched her, half her face hidden from his view, the slight stretch of her smile he could see, teeth and all, cheeks swelled with the effort of it as her eyes crinkled when Soap told a shit joke.

“What gets wetter the more it dries?” He’d asked her pointedly, elbow in her ribs with that shit smirk plastered across his face.

“I don’t know, Johnny” she’d raised a brow, leant in close to hear his reply, Soap smiled.

“A towel” his smile was audible.

Ghost had watched from a few steps back as Scout swatted at the Scotsman, told him he was a stupid git and that she would be getting him a joke book for his birthday because his were all shit.

That feeling was back in Ghost’s chest again, squirming like a can of worms, reminding him that there was in fact bones and organs beneath the hard shell of skin on the outside. Shelled like a walnut, tough and impossible to crack in a naked palm, but not hard enough to withhold its shape when pressed in a vice - forced to break and open up to reveal what’s inside.

He wanted nothing more then to maintain his distance from her, to keep her at bay and keep himself from tainting her with the sharp edges and jagged lines of him. He’d cut her if he wasn’t careful. Perfect skin bleeding crimson, scarred under his hands, bruised between his teeth, marked for everyone to see.

Ghost just couldn’t bring himself to say no to her, he tried to blame Scout, tried to convince himself that he was indulging her wishes beyond his better judgment; but that wasn’t the case. He was a cruel and selfish bastard, he wanted her to the point it was a throbbing ache deep in the marrow of his bones, and unlike before, it wasn’t just a sexual craving anymore. He craved her smile; how he’d kiss the lines that appeared on her cheeks when she did, lips as gentle as he was able. He craved her scent, that softness; rounded and sweet and so- her. Something gentle, not strong or sickly; powdery like fresh bedsheets, something soft and floral and so fucking addicting that he could never get enough of it. So much so he didn’t like washing his sheets, hated that when he did he would lay his head on his pillow at night and not catch the drifting whiff of her in his nose; sea foam and nectarines, honey and lavender. Something so unenforceable and yet; it could knock him to his knees, he didn’t know if it was her shampoo or perfume, he never asked, he just knew that he never wanted her to change it.

That was the shit that scared him, how he craved every tiny inch of her, how he wanted to pull her laugh from her chest and bottle it as if it were something rare and unseen- to Ghost, it was. He didn’t like that this is what she did to him, and from what he could deduce, she was totally and utterly oblivious to it all.

After Scout’s accident in Mexico, Ghost had lost count of how many nights he found himself reaching out for her as he tried to sleep, seeking her out in the night, wanting to call her no matter what the hour, just to hear her voice in his ear again. Another craving.

She had remained grounded at base while he was quickly sent out on his next mission. Before, Ghost would have welcomed the breathing space from her, some time for him to gather his thoughts before he would next see her again. Now though, he found himself itching to touch back down at base, counting down the minutes till he was back in the same vicinity as her, it wasn’t like him at all.

No longer was his ache for her just carnal and lust-filled, it was something that genuinely scared him, an unfamiliar feeling creeping up on him till it made him nauseous. Ghost had seen countless heinous things in his time, he’d committed them too; so why the fuck was this little soldier plaguing him so? Why the fuck was he laying awake wondering where she was or if she was okay? It was unfamiliar territory for him, and he didn’t like it one little bit.

He must have spaced out, because he didn’t even notice that she was now at his side, eyes focussed forward with a neutral expression as she struggled to match his strides. Ghost slowed for her immediately, dark eyes falling to her lip as she rolled it between her teeth, nervous. He raised a brow, expression hidden beneath his mask, as usual. Before he could speak, Scout did it for him.

“You think I shouldn’t go” it wasn’t a question, because she believed she was right.

No, that wasn’t what he thought; Ghost knew she could hold her own, he’d seen it with his own eyes, a force to be reckoned with, cataclysmic and calamitous.

He’d watched her rip a man’s throat out with a grappling hook, cornered like a feral dog with no other choice but to use what she had, she had regrouped with the team with so much blood on her that it was hard for them to tell where hers began and the enemies ended. Clumped into her lashes and sprayed across her cheeks, drying and flaking from the dry humid air but with no option to wash up. There were too many times to recall in which Scout had turned, like a switch in her head; snapped necks and gauged eyes, bullets lodged through skulls and countless enemies drowned in shallow buckets even after giving up the information she came for.

There was no way Ghost could perceive her as soft or fragile, convince himself that she needed protecting or shielding from the throws of war, she was very much in-tune with it all. She was a force of nature, beautiful yet all so fucking devastating, an unstoppable potency of might behind those strong eyes. A fold of determination knitted into her brow almost every time he looked at her when out in the field, she was strong willed with a compulsion to fight, engrained into the fibres of her bones, it was in her fucking DNA.

Ghost blinked down at her and she finally cocked her head to meet his gaze, he could see it, she was going to go on that mission regardless of what he had to say, but part of her was reluctant.

Reluctant in the sense that she knew her sense of judgment would, more often then not, come before his. Yes, he was her lieutenant and yes she would follow orders, but when things boiled down; Scout wouldn’t take things laying down, if it was her life on the line for the sake of her team or a larger narrative, then her funeral was already planned.

The lieutenant looked ahead, the others too distracted as they made their way to the stairwell that led downstairs to the food hall, he darted his eyes from her to them a few times before he finally pounced. His fingers tightened around the fabric sitting on Scout’s shoulders, throwing his eyes back over his shoulder as he pushed her into a doorway that sat at the top of the stairwell, around a corner and well hidden.

She gasped but Ghost was quick to press a gloved hand over her mouth, snuffing out the noise, he jutted his chin- watching over the solid wall of the banister separating them from the stairs below, the boys were long gone. When he turned his gaze back to her it made his stomach lurch with that familiar licking heat at the base of his spine, coiling to the forefront; she was wide eyed, neck craned back to look at him better, he could so easily shove her to her knees right here. Fuck her throat till she sobbed and spluttered nonsense around his cock, what he would fucking give.

Ghost removed his hand from her mouth, her pretty lips agape as she breathed in deep, eyes suddenly all glossy and wide for him. He couldn’t help but find her pretty like this, secretly tucked away with him, preempting his movement as her head swam. She probably thought he’d press her against the wall, hook her leg over his hip and fuck her silly till he convinced her not to take the mission; but as much as the thought tempted him, he couldn’t do that.

He raised his hand instead, a soft gesture as he pressed his gloved palm to her cheek, running his thumb over the small stretched scar that now sat there. A marred line of silvery-pink splitting her cheek - contrasting to the smooth of her skin, a reminder that back in Mexico, Ghost hadn’t quite been quick enough.

She practically purred at his touch, pressing into him, her own hand coming to lay over his.

“I don’t care if you go” he finally said, words gruff in that deep throaty tone of his. She frowned, barely enough for him to catch but still enough for him to notice, his eyes flashed.

“I just need you to come back” he cocked his head at her, pressing his gaze into her as if he would be able to see the cogs turn and gears whirr. Scout closed her mouth, mulling over his words, digesting the real meaning behind them -

I just need you to come back to me

She had nodded gently, eyes softening as she began to understand. Ghost didn’t flinch away when she moved her hand from his and pressed it against the hem of his mask, tugging it up from where it was tucked into his collar, shoving it up till it sat against the bridge of his nose; after that he hadn’t needed guiding, hadn’t needed Scout to initiate anymore. He’d kissed her till her knees wobbled, clinging to his shoulder as his tongue curled over her teeth, unable to keep himself from falling into her.

Scout had to shove him away with considerable force and remind him that they’d miss lunch if he wasn’t careful.

“I can have something else for lunch” he’d growled lowly in her ear, cupping her pussy through her jeans as she stifled her moan in the collar of his jacket, fisting it tight in her hands.

That was three weeks ago, now. In the time since then herself and Gaz had been sent on their reconnaissance assignment and returned. Soap and Ghost had been sent on a hostage evacuation in Russia; somewhere close to Moscow.

A politician, of course, had gotten caught up in the wrong kind of people, it was always the same thing time after time. All about the money and the power, blackmailing and illegal trading, the team had seen it more times than they cared to count. Yet, they still shipped out, because they’re still pressed under the thumbs of the government at the end of the day.

As Scout continued to try and settle the adrenaline buzzing away under her skin; walking her third lap of the training yard, a familiar whistle whipped and echoed around the emptiness of the air, catching her attention. She turned toward the sound, eyes narrowing as they fell on a tall figure, mohawk too hideous to miss. She smiled and moved to jog toward him, breath fanning back across her face as she neared closer to him.

Soap must have only just gotten back, his thick weathered jacket was zipped to his chin and his neck gaiter was sitting snug around his throat and pulled to his lips. He looked tired and content, undoubtedly a mission success, his hands were folded lazily in his pockets as he watched Scout come closer.

The man held out his palm to her, Scout clapping her own against it and gripping it, pulling him toward her and pressing her other palm against his shoulder, tucking herself into his side for a hug as the scent of him drifted into her nose. He smelled of gunpowder and old coins, something else spicy yet sturdy mingling on the soft skin of this throat.

“Long time no see, sarg” she’d smiled, stepping back out of his space, folding her arms over her chest as she did. He cocked his head toward her.

“It’s been a while hasn’t it, lass” a soft smile slanted across his mouth, eyes rolling over her features as he looked at her.

There was no way she could help it, but Scout let her eyes quickly dart to the space behind the sergeant, hoping his hulking British counterpart wasn’t far behind. She refocused her attention quickly, grateful that Soap was looking around the training yard, noting she was out here all by herself.

The smaller soldier palmed the back of her neck, rolling it out. “When did you get back in?”

Soap met her eye, “just” he said, “Ghost’s debriefing Laswell as we speak” he sounded tired, his accent thicker and trickier to decipher than it usually was. It wasn’t surprising, it’s hard to get used to the ever changing pace the military forces down their throats, even if they do get time to shut their eyes, it’s never peaceful. In a foreign country, miles from home soil, the prospect of a blood filled brawl looming over their head - it’s not exactly a recipe for peaceful slumber.

Soap’s eyes drifted back out into the training yard, the fog was lifting, a veil of it attempting to cloud the sunrise as it bloomed over the horizon. Orange and blue.

Scout stood beside him, close enough to feel the heat of him against the sweat cooling on her skin, she followed his gaze as he broke the silence. “D’ya remember when we first met you?” He tipped his chin slightly as he asked, eyes falling to Scout’s to gage her reaction, as if he wanted to watch her replay the memory in her head.

She smiled, “how could I forget?”

Going back years, now, back when Scout wasn’t Scout. When she was just a soldier; a number pulled from a hat, one standing in the line of many. That was before she was handpicked for her remarkable skill and technical ability, known only by her last name and her title; sergeant. A holder of drill records and the subject of many conversations between soldiers. The one with the big mouth and wavering temper, the one who spoke her truth and her mind, and had the skills to back up her words too.

Price had found her, or rather, she had been found for him. Put forward and recommended time after time, with each new mission or special task force assembled, her name was shoved into the hands of captains and generals alike. Her temper and sharp tongue got in the way a lot of the time, because for each time she was written up for standing up for herself or holding her ground, it only had another opportunity scratched for her.

Until Price was made aware of her, until a file attachment found its way to his emails with video link after video link of this sergeant in action during training. She was quick and nimble; a near perfect shot as a sniper and a dab hand at demolition, even her hand to hand was remarkable, against opponents much bigger and stronger than her. Her statistics spoke for themselves, it was all there in black and white, she was undoubtedly an asset.

Captain Price snapped her up at the first chance he got. He read over her records, he wasn’t put off by the write ups, didn’t even make him question her for a second. It made him think about how well she might fit into his varied team, simply another personality to add to the handful of others he already had clashing in the group, there was nothing more that could surprise him. Especially not after Soap, that time he’d punched a military police officer, there was little more that could stop Price from accepting someone into his force.

The transfer had been a quick turn around. With her gear packed she was shipped off on her way, a truck carrying her to her new base, her new home away from home.

As the tires rolled across the tarmac and crunched to a stop, the sergeant had stolen a gaze out of her window, met with what looked to be her entire team. Four men and a woman, she recognised the woman as Kate Laswell, and one of the men as her new Captain - having met him before the transfer. The rest of the men she had yet to meet, for obvious reasons, and she half thought she would get time to retrieve her bag before she was forced to face her new team. Obviously not.

She jumped out of the vehicle, gear weighing her down as her boots collided with the concrete. It was dead silent and she had the subconscious urge to fill it, if this is what this team was like, she had a feeling her personality wouldn’t fit in well here. She stepped forward, flipping her cap around so it’s visor faced backwards, better for her to make eye contact with the tall men standing sturdy in front of her. The sergeant left her bag in the truck, immediately stepping forward toward her new team, and that’s when she caught it.

“Who let the Boy Scouts start signin’ up?”

The voice was low and stoney, it made her bristle, clenching her teeth as her eyes darted toward the source of the snide comment. She was met with a mask. A balaclava stitched with a skull around the lower jaw, dark eyes glaring pointedly at her like she’d done something to purposefully offend the man. She took the bait. “Same ones who let pricks like you rank up” she’d said it before she registered it, too used to her own base, throwing insults back at soldiers who made quips and remarks day in-day out. For a split second, she’d forgotten where she was, the muscle memory of the verbal self defence too engrained for her to stop it.

Two of the men whistled, she later learned they were Gaz and Soap, the latter patting the masked man on the shoulder as he recoiled from her remark. “That Boy Scout is a fuckin lass, L.t” the Scotsmen roared a laugh, and for a second she thought it was directed at her, but it was in fact directed at the man in the mask. She quickly realised, not only had she insulted a member of her team, he was her new Lieutenant. She froze in her step, eyes still locked with the mask and she saw something flash within his irises, it was a quick fleeting realisation for him. He had thought she was a man, a small one, with the cap and the gear he’d failed to register from a distance that she was a woman.

Only when she came closer into his clear view and spoke did he realise she was female, the softness in her cheeks and the lines of her body screamed anything but Boy Scout.

From that day forward she had been dubbed; Scout. An endearing inside joke between the team that would stay with her until she resigned from duty or died out on the field. A nickname she grew to love, because of the man who had ultimately given it to her, forever reminding both of them of their first ever interaction, even if it wasn’t the way they wished it had gone.

On her first mission shipping out with 141, Scout had been going through her pack, rearranging and swapping things out to put things in, going over it all over and over again until it gave her a headache. She emptied a front pocket, undoing the zip to find a scrunch of folded paper stuffed inside of it. She tentatively pulled it out, curious, finding a swirl of bold writing scratched into it. A simple sorry with a tiny drawing of a skull etched into the paper next to it.

She would never tell him, but Scout still had that piece of paper saved- carried in the front pocket of her vest wherever she went.

Soap and Scout stood there in the cold, stupid slanting smiles as they reminisced on their past, light memories of better times. When none of them were injured and they worked on base together for weeks at a time to strengthen their bond as a team, now it felt as if they were passing ships.

The relationship between Scout and the Scotsman was rooted in the same boar-headedness and alike ideals. They were so similar it caused them to butt heads a lot of the time, always trying to one up each other in the sense that they both lacked self preservation, always willing to throw their life in the mix when things got tricky.

Ghost didn’t like it; he had to do enough babysitting with just Soap alone, keeping a rein on his outlandish ideas and suicide plans - then Scout had come along and shoved her stick into the pot.

Despite their similarities when it came to work ethics, they were vastly different in personality. While the Scot was loudmouthed, extroverted and downright unabashed with the attention his presence warranted; Scout was much more reserved, adding her ten pence where it mattered, but watching from the sidelines - not at all wanting the attention to drift to her.

Yet, it always did, inevitably, a lass like her- in a job like this. It drew attention, all of it Ghost hated; drunkards in pubs that would slink up to her at the bar and beg to buy her a drink, the rookies on base were the worst of it all, a constant dick measuring contest between them, desperate to see who could get her to bite first.

Much to Ghost’s pleasure, Scout did always bite, just not they way they were intending.

The day Scout got pulled in by the higher ups for breaking a kids wrist had, undoubtedly, been one of the best days of Ghost’s life.

He’d watched it all unfold, not bothering to intervene as he continued to finish his reps on the chest pull, eyes watching intently as the rookie sidled up to her from across the gym with his chest puffed out, daring to let his hand slide over the small of Scout’s back as she leant down to tie her shoelace. It was like a whip cracking, so quick you’d miss it if you blinked, her concise movement and perfect angle had snapped the poor bastards wrist in two, the shrieking wail of pain he let out having everyone in the gym bristling and swivelling their heads.

Scout hadn’t said a single word to him, barely broken a sweat, not even a slight change to her expression.

She’d stood her ground when they threatened to discharge her; told them that she had every right to do what she did, that it was an engrained reflex, a tick from the army, a reaction to any kind of foreign touch that she wasn’t expecting. Ghost knew she’d blagged it, played it smart, fed them what they didn’t want to hear. She was safe on base, for the most part - especially with Ghost there, and Scout didn’t have as many years under her belt as Ghost did. So when she told them that it was purely a chemical reaction in her brain after the years of fighting and looking over her shoulder, they had no option but to send her on her way with merely a slap on the wrist.

Safe to say she was given a wide birth around base after that.

That’s when Ghost had realised; Scout was so much like him, and maybe that’s why they understood each other so well. Both basking in the shadows, watching from afar yet still engaging in conversation when it was needed, a preference to remain settled in the background. Ghost’s was an aversion to the socialising, he was calculated in his thoughts, eyes always watching the exits and doorways, knife sheathed in his waistband at all times. It wasn’t paranoia, he was just well versed enough to know that this line of work would catch up to him somewhere one day, he just didn’t know when and where.

Whereas Scout was simply quieter in her nature, she’d aged in her years of service; despite the stories Price and other soldiers had to tell of a young spitfire with no filter and a habit of getting into bar fights, Ghost struggled to imagine that of her. Even when they went to the pub on a rare occasion, she’d barely finish the one rum and coke she would order, sipping at it gingerly as she watched Soap chat up a bird across the bar. The Scot had called her boring once, a night of respite in Galway, drunk words spitting at her to pull the stick out of her arse every once in a while; she’d sat quiet, eyeing Soap as she took another sip, unbothered about engaging with him.

Ghost had his suspicions, expected she wasn’t one to hold her alcohol well, she’d either spin someone’s jaw or spill her feelings for all to see - but it was abundantly clear; she didn’t want to do either of those things in front of these boys. Maybe if she was just another soldier, a troop in a squadron, pulled out of line by her number; but she wasn’t. She was special forces, she had earned her place here amongst them, and she wasn’t about to put it in jeopardy over embarrassment or image issues.

It was another hour before Ghost was done with his debrief to Laswell.

Scout wouldn’t admit it, but she milled around, walking through the corridors, eyeing the ceiling or watching as her boots scuffed the floor. She managed a shower between making her rounds of the base, had little more to do than wait for him, it was like this every time, some way or another, he would find her.

It was only when she bumped into Price that she noticed something off- because he was on the phone to Laswell.

The captain mouthed a greeting but continued on his way, speaking into his phone with a hushed voice. That in itself wasn’t abnormal, Price was always wrapped up with other duties; a constant stack of files atop his desk that he loathed having to sort through, more often then not he had to get someone to physically lock him into his office so it would get done.

What was strange on the other hand- was Ghost’s absence. Sometimes, when he’d had a rough go at it on a mission he would return sour. Cut himself off and shut himself away to gather himself, lick his metaphorical wounds in secret like a battered dog. Scout understood it, any soldier did, it’s hard to speak openly about what they see when they’re out there, it’s even hardener to try and get it off their chest - because anyone in the closest proximity has seen the same, if not worse. It’s not the nicest feeling to dump shit on someone that already has a growing closet of their own skeletons.

Ghost wasn’t privy to Scout’s skeletons, much like she wasn’t his. They weren’t there yet, maybe they never would be, but regardless; they still understood. One of the few unspoken things between them, it seemed like they just knew what was and wasn’t needed. She didn’t pry into his past, him the same regarding her, because they both knew that they weren’t ready to play therapist. It was enough to deal with what was coming and going, dealing with the present - the now.

They’d deal with the rest when they were dead.

When Scout’s thoughts started to trail away from her, the ping of her phone drew her attention. It was embarrassing how quick she wrenched it from her pocket, eyes dancing over the notification with a new found excitement.

Come to bed

Read: 10:17am

Short. Concise. To the point. A point Scout had no room in her chest to argue with.

If someone asked her what Ghost was to her, she wasn’t sure what she would say. This, arrangement between them, it had clearly gone past the point of a physical use of one another to strip away the tension and angst of war. No longer was it just simply fucking, of course the sex had started as the deeper rooted catalyst, but the sex was - dare she say, tender.

Before, it hurt, because it needed to hurt; Scout had wanted it to hurt. She hurt him as much as he hurt her, blood under her nails and on her tongue, teeth stained with him. That’s what it had all been about, drawing that pain from within one another, using it as a crutch instead of drowning themselves with tumbler after tumbler of whiskey or numbing it all with prescription opioids.

When the two of them had first crossed the line; it had been a spur of the moment drunken fumbling. Back then, Scout had told herself that wether it was Soap, Gaz or Ghost who put the offer out there, she wouldn’t have minded. Because she needed to relieve that coiling burn in her chest and abdomen, it felt like she would go insane if she didn’t.

Now, she slipped into his room carefully, latch clicking back into place as she shut it quietly. It was dark, the only light being that of the steadily waking sky, flittering through the cracks above and below the shoddy curtains that didn’t quite reach across the entire window. It wasn’t dark enough that she couldn’t seek him out, he blended with the shadows, but Scout was sure she could seek him out even if she was blind and deaf with her hands cut off. She could make out the outline of him, framed in a wave of heat that rolled from him, steady even breathing fanning freely from his nose.

His mask was off.

He didn’t move, didn’t so much as flinch as his dark eyes watched her, like a predator waiting to pounce, a crocodile watching as a sweet deer drinks from the watering hole. Soon between its teeth, weak noises bleeding out with its last ragged breath.

Scout stopped at the foot of his bed, tugging off her shoes before she dug her knees into his mattress, making her way closer.

He shifted “take it all off” his voice rasped, low and full of sleep. Gravel and ice. It sent heat licking down her spine, a shiver running straight down to her toes. Of course, she obliged, she stepped off the bed again and did as asked, dutiful soldier she was - anything for her Lieutenant.

Again, she couldn’t see him, not entirely, but she could feel his gaze. How he practically stripped her with his own eyes, boring through her skin and deep into the marrow of her bones. It made her slick between her thighs, just the thought of him had her pressing her knees together. She ached for him, felt the pull in her muscles every time he fucked her like it would be the last time, because one day - it just might just be.

Scout joined him again, she heard him shift, sitting straighter against the wall at the head of his bunk. Now she was close, her thigh pressing into his as he pulled her closer by the wrist, she felt the coarse hair on his leg against her flesh. He was already stripped bare himself, save for his boxers, freshly showered and warm- he was entirely and utterly open.

His fingers didn’t release from around her wrist, he tugged till she was awkwardly strewn across his lap, his other hand shifting to hold the base of her neck, bringing the top of her head to his lips.

“Fuckin’ missed you” all smoke and gunpowder in her ears, so low it was almost a whisper. He took a long drag into his nostrils, already on his way to being high off her scent, shampoo from her hair fresh and sweet to his senses. Scout pressed her palms against his chest, the heat almost burning, feverish under her fingertips.

“I missed you too” she let the words drift to him, even if the light was too dim, she still couldn’t bring herself to match his gaze. Maybe he had said it first, but that could easily be put down to the jet lag, delirious from the lack of sleep and the draining aftermath once the adrenaline of a mission washes away.

Ghost grumbled something low, pure sex as it rose from the depths of his chest. His palm slid from the back of her head to her neck, then to her throat, light pressure as he pulled her mouth flush to his. Scout keened, palm holding his jaw as his tongue slid over hers, claiming her mouth. The dance was well rehearsed, each move in tandem, like running through a check list. His hands roamed, tugging her as close as she could possibly be- any closer and she’d melt into him.

The only barrier between their sexes were their underwear, sliding friction of her clothed pussy against the strain in his boxers. Ghost growled in his throat as Scout moved to straddle him, knees splitting painfully wide over his hips, ass seated on the meat of his glorious thighs. Their mouths never parted, cresting teeth biting into her lip as she gasped, calloused palms kneading the flesh of her thighs and ass till she mewled. She was so wet already, soaked to her core, slick and hot and ready for him to ruin her again and again.

“Fuck” she whispered against his mouth, biting smile curling his mouth afterwards as he rubbed his stubbled jaw into the soft crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of her skin. Scout was more intoxicating than any whiskey or bourbon Ghost was yet to encounter, more addicting in the same sense, a sturdy punch to the gut.

Ghost leaned forward, uncoiling his arm from behind her back, pressing his fingers into the sopping fabric covering the cleft of her pussy, teasing. She cowered, practically shivering under his touch, so keen for him that it made her shake. His other hand gripped her chin, pinched between his thumb and forefinger, Scout focused her eyes- noticing she could just about catch the fleeting light in those amber-hickory eyes.

It sent another shiver down her spine, liquid want pooling in her belly, drawing her even closer into him. She pressed forward, kissing him again, raking her tongue over his teeth with any ounce of dominance she could muster; Ghost grinned against her mouth, how bold of her, he would let her take as much as she was willing.

He revelled in the way she reacted to him. In every sense, her body; the way he could merely look at her from across a room and she’d cross her legs, he didn’t miss the little gestures. He didn’t even have to touch her to get under her skin, just his gaze and presence alone could draw things from her.

He wished he could watch it back, still letting her kiss him with a feverish clash of teeth and small-calloused hands gripping the skin of his tummy, her nails raking deep into his skin as he took her off guard. All of the air from her lungs was punched out when Ghost curled two thick digits into her cunt, crooking against her gummy walls, so slick for him already. She screwed her eyes shut, head thrown back as she squirmed, grinding down against the friction of his hand. He hummed, feeling how she dripped onto his wrist, the smell of her arousal already tacky in the air, lust and sex stifling the air in his room.

“So fuckin’ tight darlin’” he rasped, lips sucking a bruise between her tits as he leant forward, angling his wrist to reach even deeper, drawing all the best sounds from her pretty throat.

“Shit- Simon” she whined, lip between her teeth as she arched backwards, palms pressing against his shins as she worked herself on his fingers, pressing her tits into his face as he sucked and lapped at the tender skin there.

She never tired of it. Couldn’t, even if she tried, she would never meet another man or woman that would make her feel the way Ghost was able. It was as if he knew her body, knew what made her tick, almost like he could feel it - somatic.

Scout near enough shrieked when he pressed the pad of his thumb against her clit, a new found urge to make her cum driving its way deep in his chest. He added another finger, screwing into her, splitting her open so she could easily take his cock. She savoured it, amusing him when she bucked her hips, rolling them against the strokes of his hands, meeting him halfway.

“Look at you, gorgeous, so desperate to be filled” she could taste his smirk when he claimed her lips in another filthy kiss, smothering her down, any noise from her dissipating when he curled his fingers in that way he knew she liked, she craved it. Scout couldn’t help it, couldn’t even think about keeping quiet, she was panting against his skin, fogging him up.

“Fuck- I’m-“ she swallowed, throat dry, “I’m gonna cum like this” she tells him but he already knows, gladly acknowledges the fluttering of her walls around the notches of his knuckles.

“Go on then” he presses, teasing her clit again, rocking the heel of his palm against her in rhythm, watching as she throws her head back just as her world shatters.

She’s always so pretty when she cums he thinks, he’d give an arm or a leg to watch the sight over and over again whenever he wished, no missions or obligations to keep her from him. It’s selfish, but he can’t seem to give a shit, not when he’s got her here like this, curled into him, fucking herself on his hand, all to get her ready to split open on his cock.

Before it’s fully settled, her orgasm fizzing out, she’s grabbing at him, shoving his boxers down his thighs with an awkward tug that makes him smirk, lifting his hips as she manhandles him to make it easy for her. Ghost almost bites through his bottom lip when he watches her, pretty pink tongue running from the heel of her palm to the tip of her fingers, wetting it to get him slick, pressing her hand to his cock and curling her fingers around him - it makes him choke. He rumbles in his chest, it’s been so long since he’s had her, too long since he’s had her smell under his nose and his skin under his fingers, it sets a coil of resentment settling in his chest. Fuck whatever power in the universe that keeps pulling them in opposite directions, Ghost is a smart man, but his patience and loyalty to his work be damned; right now, he’d give it all up for her.

His hands settle at her hips when she shifts, angles herself up, resting higher on her knees so she can press the head of his cock between the slicked folds of her pussy, get him soaked in her juices so the sting doesn’t bite too hard. Because it will, it’s been weeks, longer than he’s been away because he hadn’t wanted to hurt her when she was injured - no matter how hard she tried to convince him that she’d be fine.

Ghost’s fingers sink right to the bones in her hips when she begins to press herself down onto him, inch by torturous fucking inch she goes, rocks her hips so the head catches something fleshy inside, makes his eyes roll like marbles in his skull.

“Christ” she bites out, jaw clenched, features of that pretty face twisted in pain. Such a brave girl he thinks - knows, always trying to put on a front, even as she fucks herself on his cock. He reaches a big paw up, slides it over her cheek and holds her still, those teary eyes looking at him like he holds the world in his hand - right now, he does.

“Breathe, love” he whispers, tenderly, as best he can.

She nods at him, matches the way he takes a deep breath in and out, helps her flatten her pelvis to his, sunken to the hilt, stuffed to the brim with his cock and his adoration. It’s a sickly feeling, how soft he can be, how he reserves it all for her, stuffs her full of it till it all spills over: drowning her in it.

Scout rolls her hips forward, catching friction on the thatch of hair at his groin, pressing her chest to his so their flesh slicks up together, her nipples catching over his chest, too close for comfort and yet still not close enough.

“You’re so good” he lets free, jaw slack as he mouths over her jaw, chaste open-mouth kisses littered over any patch of skin he can reach. His words make her chest swell, fuzzy and static, too much warmth from him that makes her clench around his cock. Scout slurs a curse under her breath.

“Never get used to this” she breathes, whispers it into his throat when he presses up and forward, fucking up into her so her tits sway against him and she’s forced to brace her hands onto his biceps.

“Me neither, darlin’” he sucks a bruise into her throat, feeling how it makes her pussy walls tighten, fluttering around him, coaxing his release out of him like she’s moulded for him.

Neither of them last, she’s already ahead of him, but it doesn’t take much for Ghost to see the light, bathed in the starchy blissful heat that sears every nerve ending in his body, wringing him out for everything he’s worth. He can’t help himself, he presses the pad of his thumb to her sore clit even as she’s cumming, pumping her cunt full of his cum, brimming at the seams till it leaks back out and smothers between where their hips press tightly together. She pulls out everything he has to offer, seizing it all and not letting anything be left behind, only then does she sag into him. Pressed into each other as lays atop him, face tilted up so her jaw sits in the space between his neck and his jaw, only inches between their faces.

He never used to; but he’s become accustomed to the afterglow, it’s no longer a looming and harrowing afterthought that dowses him in ice-cold reality. He basks in it now, heaving breaths that intwine with hers, nothing but the scent of sex and her skin under his nose. Pressed close.

She closes her eyes, takes it in, enjoys this time like it’s a saints gift, a holy touch. It’s rare these days, that she gets him like this, it’s not just the quick fucking between intervals, her trousers around her knees as he fucks her quick and messy somewhere secluded, tidying her up afterward and sending her on her way with a deadly smack to the arse. This is different, the part she’s growing to like too much, unknowing that he too thinks the world of this time. He finds he wants time to stop entirely, not just for the sex, but just for holding her close like this, feeling the thrum of her heartbeat as it knocks into his. Both alive and well.

Ghost slides his hand up from where it’s laid over the small of her back, that curve of her spine he likes to rake his teeth over, his hand settles on her cheek again, makes her open those pretty eyes of hers to look at him. He doesn’t say anything, the touch speaks volumes, so much so that she meets him in the middle, pushes her self up enough that she can seal her lips over his. It’s tender, sickly and sweet in a way he reserves only for these times; the two of them fucking in the safety of his bed or hers behind a locked door. Not because he’s shameful or embarrassed of her, not at all, but because he takes off the mask for her - strips Ghost away entirely so that it’s only Simon that remains.

He’s sure she knows by now, she’s not that dense, but she doesn’t make a big deal of it, she keeps it to herself like the special thing it is. Another line is stepped over, anymore and there will be no going back, but it seems neither of them want to.

Both too reliant on one another to keep each other alive and kicking.

[danger-noodle-uwu]

Trigger warning [mentions of killing/arguments/death/break-ups/cheating/etc]

Satan

Wrath is vengeful, wrath is destruction however this never bothered you or got in the way of dating Satan, The Avatar of wrath himself.

But as one could say, the true nature of a being could never remain under the covers. There was vengeance peering above the surface, and destruction awaiting at an unknown's doors, you did not knew.

Satan had great many contacts and to keep that up, he need to do few favors but not every favor was not-so-bloody. And lost in such an expectations of others did he forget an important day like today.

As always the day started as chaos, which couldn't have been helped either way and the blond had grown sick of that, unknown to the cause of chaos and decided to act upon the list he had, completely overlooking your smile, or the stunning outfit complimenting your figure or the day itself.

Upon this ignorance of his, you really wished face-palm. His demeanor was rather annoying, which only fueled you more to smack him. Really hard.

Today was well-planned, at least that's what you thought before dragging him away from his target and scolding him for leaving you on your own in a place crawling with demons.

Satan being the literal embodiment of wrath yet also your lover said "Get off me. I have things to do. And stop being so damn clingy." "Hey, it's your fault for leaving me on my special day!plus, there's sooo many things I wanna do toda–"

"Please shut up for once in your goddamn life!!" His sharp scream cut you off as his eyes bore into yours; eyes full of hatred and disgust as if you were a wretched grotesque placed before him.

Those words accompanied by his harsh glares was enough to make your heart shatter and knifes to be jabbed in your chest while eyes stung with tears that you pathetically hid by averting them as you asked "what did I do wrong..?"

Who knew that one sentence was enough to make those unshed tears flow and litter your rosy cheeks that he'd usually squish and fawn over but alas, all that comforted you was his back.

"Your whole being is the most ugliest!" Lies. Lies. He knew his tongue spat venom at you with words that could never be true because you're his world but the blinding rage doesn't allow him to say so and thus instead, his hand runs through golden locks out of pure frustration as he finally turned to face you.

There was something terrifying about him that very moment which made you mumble out a small "...I'm sorry..." before running off; the sharp pain in your heart only grew with him staring at you like that. It was all just too much. His wrath was suffocating you but to ruin your birthday without even remembering it.

You did didn't care for how bad your muscles ached as you ran further away from him. All that you wanted is to be alone and cry your heart out in hopes that this agony would subside yet part of you hoped that he cared and would come after you or stop you. Which never happened.

Satan has always been so...uncooperative and complicated towards everyone that it almost made him unreachable at times especially when it comes to Lucifer however today, it became different.

His face was scrunched and tense as Lucifer advised him to give you space before talking things out and perhaps getting you a gift as well for both an apology and your birthday; his body pacing back and forth in his room reconsidering things he's spoke until now, not even bothered to consider this as a special day while his elder patiently waited for him to calm down. They both how much you mean to Satan despite him hurting you and making you feel unwanted.

And would anyone look at the avatar of wrath while he's on his knees; practically begging to set things write and for you to accept his apology. However much like always, you don't fail at surprising him when your lips clumsily crash against his.

That he moment he knew how truly beautiful you are in every sense. From physical appearance to your dream-like soul. Every inch was perfect.

Asmodeus

'Touchy and irresponsible as always' you sighed looking over and frowning at Asmodeus who was so clearly lost in the seemingly endless attention they give him as their hands roam his body while he's biting his lip. He was enjoying this, wasn't he?

The thought of him being touched by somebody else made your stomach churn and eyes sting with hurt and envy; he was the avatar of lust, true but couldn't he not do this on your birthday at least and pay attention to you.

You could bet as to how pathetic you were looking drinking demonus with tears in your eyes and surrounded by demons who could just swallow you whole without your lover even batting an eye. Afterall, he'd rather be someone's bed warmer than your boyfriend.

"Hey...are you okay?" Honestly, you didn't know this stranger's name or anything about him but he still had some concern for your well-being; way more than your beloved however made you self-conscious as how pathetic you may have appeared and let your emotions get the best of you in front of unknown people.

"Yea..." you replied flushed from embarrassment and the crimson liquid that rested in your glass. It was really humiliating and made you feel awfully shy at the same time.

"If you say so, but don't hesitate to tell me if there's anything bothering you or if—" He leans closer to whisper in your ear before continuing "—someone's bothering you..." His voice was authoritative yet gentle much akin to a soft breeze from the human world despite being a demon.

"Oh! And I'm Ethan..." a blush ghosted over his cheeks as he realized that he hadn't even introduced himself while you told him yours as he gave you his number offering to help you just in case.

Truth be told, you were smiling to yourself glancing on the tissue that he wrote his number on and the fact that he even wrote happy to help made you grin wider. It was such a sweet gesture.

However unknownst to you, Asmo seemed to have noticed the whole interaction and was fuming with envy; so jealous that he could put Levi to shame. His face burned with heat and beads of sweat rolled down. He hated how that putrid demon had the audacity to flirt and blush at you yet his anger only stirred further when you smiled at him.

The avatar of lust stormed over to you and dragging you out of the fall, harsh grip on your wrist that would probably leave a bruise and then slammed you against the cold wall in the alleyway.

"What are you—!!" You were muffled by his lips smashing against yours; hands roaming your body as desire burned in your veins. Lips synced and danced against each other into a steamy make-out session however he pulled away.

"Why were you flirting with that guy?! You know that demons can hurt you then why my darling must you do this?!" It was irritating as to how he interrogated you but didn't even consider his own actions and the way he neglected you.

Did he even remember your birthday..?

"You say this as if YOU weren't smothering some random people in front of your girlfriend on OUR date!!" And finally, he realized what he's been doing all day. He was avoiding and ignoring you, too busy and consumed by his own...thoughts while you constantly tried to spend quality time with him.

"Baby...I'm sorry..." He coos gently holding your face and cradling you as tears cascaded your face. You looked so miserable because him and he made an internal promise to treat you better and not neglect your emotions.

"Y-you even forgot my birthday..." you sobbed into his soft hands as his eyes widened before he kissed you again. This time much gently and lovingly; full of adoration and affection but desperate for you.

You knew he meant it but forgiving is easier said than done. Even if you would accept him, it'd much later as for now, you wanted him to show is emotions; his real self that was vulnerable and loving; one that was guilty of hurting you. One that loved you beyond his own sin.

You would be lying if you said your heart wasn't melting for him as his hand intertwined with yours while the other rested around your waist and blush littered his face; all for you.

All of him softened just for you; all those emotions showered upon you because all of his love was meant for you.

Beelzebub

Gluttony is like a venom that spreads in your body; turning one into a hungry beast ready to devour his prey and another into a starved being—but for somebody who personified the sin in itself would be beyond a monster or an other horrendous creature imaginable.

Thus, can you really blame Beelzebub for ingesting the whole food supply of house of lamentation alongside of some cutlery after a seemingly intense workout as well 7 hours of helping satan shift his books in order to clean the empty space.

He was salivating at the sight of everything before as his vision molded it into something edible...delicious and well; in front of him were you, standing there awkwardly as his eyes hovered over you however not in a lustful but more like a locking the meat of your bones manner.

"B-beel, you alright..?" His intense gaze made you feel uncomfortable as you shifted in your place yet he didn't blink once as if his hunger overtook him...making him forget who you were.

You couldn't breathe, couldn't move an inch without him lunging at you with those eyes full of hunger for anything to satiate the emptiness within his stomach including you. However, Luck was on your side since it was your own birthday as Asmodeus happened to pass by the scene hoisting his phone up taking selfish before rushing towards you.

"Darling, Beel, what are you guys... doing?" By the end of his question, he knew what was coming. He is well aquaintated with Beel's endless hunger that violently shook the atmosphere in the whole house.

As you stood unblinking staring back at the avatar of gluttony trembling with fear whilst his ragged breaths were heard in the silence of the hall. The very next second he pounced at you transforming into his demon form; claws beared as if he was readily about to rip your heart out.

Yet somehow you were alive; alive and thrown over like a sack of potatoes on Asmo's shoulder as he sprinted towards his room with an echoing sound of certain rumbling in the background that made shiver in dread.

"Honey, you're alright. You're safe, okay? Phew!" He collapsed next to you on the floor next to you after ensuring the door was properly locked, clearly out of breath while still attempting to comfort your troubled form.

Despite knowing he cannot control his hunger, you couldn't help but tighten your throat or fall victim to the ache plastered within your chest. He loves you, you know it but this...hurt more than expected.

The clutches of gluttony were like shackles that bound him and drove him to try to...the thought alone makes you want throw up or is it because his twin succeeded at a similar task.

"Hey...Mc, don't cry, darling. It'll all be okay, I promise! Forget everything it's your birthday, isn't it?" The blond cradled you in his arms trying to shush away your tears meanwhile you sobbed and cried; planned everything, got up early to bake for him and even got the tickets to a movie he was excited about.

"It's so unfair! So unfair, Asmo!!" Why did this have to happen when all you did was try your best? Why are you doomed to fail at every given task? Was this all your fault?

Such thoughts consumed you wholly as your sobs turned into more cries that dragged Asmo's poor heart along with it; it hurt him so much to see someone he considered family be hurt so much. To be broken that they're reduced to a teary mess on the floor.

In the hallway, Lucifer and Satan towered upon Beelzebub who finally calmed down, happily chomping the food he was given; almost uncaring of his twin that laid kissing the ground with a large bruise forming on his forehead.

"W-where *chomp* is cupcake?" He muttered with a mouthful, thinking you must be hungry and not even remembering what he did as he was a puppet under the control of his sin.

"In Asmodues's room..." Lucifer sighed while Satan raged at the sight of the havoc wrecked upon his book—cursed ones, collector's edition, etc. They were everywhere torn into half or bites into and discarded afterwards.

"They must be sobbing since you were ever so nice to them on their birthday!" Satan mocked knowing how badly his brother fucked up while the orange head gushed the memories right into his eyes. Each moment he made a decision worse than the other.

"Oh my poor Mc, sleep well..." you didn't realize how exhausted you were from the whole event that you passed out between Asmo's arms who later tucked you within the comforting confines of your own bed.

But peace never really lasted long as you woke up, only to be greeted by a decorated room, a cake with several other snacks littered on the table and Beelzebub by your side with apologetic eyes as a melody played accompanied by the voices belonging to the remaining brothers.

"I'm sorry, cupcake...I didn't mean to scare you or hurt you, I just don't know what's wrong with me but please forgive me...I love you..." His eyes bore guilt as he was reminded of an older time, an older mistake before his hands caged yours affectionately before kissing them lovingly.

The orange headed demon never wished to be more than your protector, that gives away his life to save yours but also a lover that wants to build a family with you; one that he loves dearer than himself.

Belphegor

Does fate really hate you? If not, why must it be you who suffers with people misunderstanding you or blaming you for actions not performed by you?

"Come on, it's not that bad...just a stupid nightmare!" You hopped onto your feet before changing into your outfit for the day; one that made you feel good about yourself unlike the haunting nightmares that weren't leaving you alone.

As you left your room trying your best to force a smile out, there was a voice that felt familiar as it belonged to a certain great demon who bestowed the wishes of having the best birthday.

"Happy birthday, h-human!" He spoke loudly as if reminding the others of the day despite the whole hall being empty. The gesture in itself was funny, his hand putting your head like a puppy except for the part he himself looked like one.

"Thanks, mammon." And there it was your signature smile that could possibly make anybody melt, though how could you believe it; a rose can never see its reflection.

Reaching the dining hall, the atmosphere felt tense as if everyone was on edge, all but one person. He was missing entirely. Belphegor wasn't there. Was he still asleep?

Before you could ask, Lucifer announced "Belphegor will not be joining us today." And continued to finish his breakfast with what seemed to be a bothered expression.

"Hey beel, what happened?" You couldn't help wonder what did your boyfriend did this time to piss of the eldest and if so, why wasn't satan assisting the crime. "Belphi, h-he said some really mean things..." beelzebub was feeling guilty fill up his stomach, his appetite dying or perhaps killed by someone else.

"Okay..." you knew that the orange headed demon was hiding something, swallowing his own words however why you just couldn't decipher. His voice was strained that it made you feel very uneasy about what really conspired when you were asleep.

"Levi, can you tell me what really happened? Please!!" You pleaded with puppy eyes as soon as the remaining brothers had dispersed from the dining hall; to avoid the extra ears and overly exaggerated explanations.

"Normie, first off promise me you won't tell anybody that i told you this!" He whisper-yelled as you nodded your head vigorously. "Okay--fine, so belphi woke up in a super sour mood and since lucifer decided to call him to the dining hall himself...he said a lot of mean things..."

Leviathan felt a bitter taste in his mouth knowing his next words would most likely ruin your birthday and put you into doubt of your own relationship and partner.

"He spoke a lot of nonsense about lucifer, you know normie...And he--um, he said you weren't that great and just kinda wasted his time w-which is like total bullshit, right? Like normie, you're like Henry 3.0, totally cool and awesome!" He tried his best to soothe the wound he had to give you in order for the truth to be told.

But there it was, a sound of your own heart being crushed and sensation of wet tears dripping down your cheeks. It hurt you so much to hear that your lover spoke of you behind your back that you couldn't take it anymore and sprinted all the way back to your room; leaving Leviathan to only his worry and concern in the dining hall.

Especially on your birthday, that in itself felt like a cheap move being played on you as you felt needles pricking through your chest, and it hurt so much. It felt like the nightmares were true when they played the same scenario where he used you; he used you like a pawn.

Meanwhile, in the twins' room, Belphegor laid in bed with a weird feeling filling him; one that felt so heavy that he couldn't sleep it off. But why? He just couldn't pinpoint.

"Belphi, have spoken with Mc yet? It's their birthday...you should really go to see them..." the avatar of gluttony had his head lowered as he pouted; visibly hungry but at a lack of food.

"WHAT!" "Yea its their birthday, belphi..?" Belphegor panicked for at least 5 minutes before gathering himself and rushing to the kitchen to make something--a cake, should it be okay but what if you're craving ramen instead..? Or something salty? SHIT

He's never been so frantic and panicked; he felt like a single mother raising 6 children...wait why does that sound familiar? ANYWAYS, no time for that.

It took about 2 hours for the whole thing to be prepared; while he had tasked satan to buy your favorite snacks. In the end, he was drenched in sweat from the whole last minute preparation that he did.

On the other hand, you were passed out on your bed; tears dried up on your face and slightly puffy lips and very gracelessly flopped onto your bed.

Belphegor's heart ached at the sight of you, he knew his words have been heard by someone who didn't deserve them. Who deserved love and not such cruel things.

"Love, wake up...c'mon its your birthday..." He voice was gentle as if a one wrong word could shatter you like glass and his hands caressed your cheeks; before kissing you passionately.

You rubbed your eyes as your boyfriend kissed your forehead and pulled you off of the bed. He was smothering you with kisses somewhat lazily; letting eachone feel feather like on your skin.

"Happy birthday my star, I'm sorry for what is said earlier...I promise you that I never meant any of it...I just--lost myself to anger, I'm sorry." He's efforts were visible in both his voice and your room; the blanket Fort certainly seemed impressive and most likely he had your favorite movie paused.

"It's not okay to speak such things about you're partner belphi on any day let alone their birthday. Yet I am much kinder than you think...I forgive you." You pouted with fake anger evident in your voice; playing pretend was fun as hr fell for your words in the beginning but definitely caught up in the end.

And as the day came to a close, you both were snuggled into each other's warmth and cuddling; the harsh words and hot tears forgotten or perhaps changed into smiles of contentment.

Afterall, belphegor was your dark sky and you were his star; without one the other would feel empty and out of place. He was the one who wanted to drown into the depths with you or burn with the passion he held for you...And both remain a pleasure to him...

--------------------------------------

A/n; I had no ideas for belphi and was abt to write he slept that it off like he was in a coma xD

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Anyways,

ℍ𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕒 𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝕕𝕒𝕪

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

safe word angst with slash and femreader? like she uses their safeword and feels bad and slash comforts her

Warnings: Smut, bondage, use of safeword, slight angst, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Slash had come back from tour and decided he needed to make up for lost time, the second he was through the front door he was on you.

Axl had been particularly difficult throughout the tour, Slash always called you and complained so you expected some anger to linger in him when he was with you but this? You hadn't expected this.

He tied you to the bed with his belt around your wrists, pushing your face into the mattress as he slammed his cock deep in you, girth stretching you out just right, at least that's how it usually was.

Tonight was different, to be fair it had started out fine and you loved when he got rough but after a hours of overstimulating you and not letting you cum your whole body just started to ache all over.

"Slash-! Slash, sto-stop!" You cried, tears streaming down your cheeks, your body bouncing up and down on the mattress.

Slash raised his hand and brought his palm down on your ass in a harsh slap, then he did it again and a third time for good measure, each hit ripped a yelp from your throat. "Shut up, you know you love it, you know you've been waiting for this, fucking cockslut." He said through gritted teeth.

His words hurt more than the physical contact. They had no place to project pain and it sunk deep inside you, into your brain, latching on and ruining you from the inside and working its way out.

When it started hurting you thought you'd tough it out, figuring he'd be done soon. Then he kept going. And going. And hurting.

"Pumpkin..." You managed to mutter.

Slash's hand came down on your ass again. "Say it again, bitch, louder so I can actually hear your whore mouth." He bit.

You bit your lip, choking back a sob as you tried to get your voice steady. "Pumpkin." You said, hoping your voice was loud enough this time.

It must have been given how fast Slash stopped. He immediately pulled out of you and went to take his belt off your wrists, your body finally getting a break from his abuse.

You curled in on yourself, holding yourself tightly and rolling away from him. "Hey, hey, sweetheart, it's ok... it's ok, c'mere..." He said, voice soft as he laid down beside you, reaching out to pull you closer.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." You blurted, your sobs filling the air.

Slash sat up slightly, staring down at you with furrowed brows. "You're sorry?" He asked.

You nodded, another sob racking your body. "I'm sorry, you just-just needed me because you're-you're mad at Axl and I couldn't even be good for you." You cried.

Slash stared a moment longer, slowly shaking his head before getting out of bed. He went to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind himself and making you flinch.

You thought he was mad at you, infuriated even. All he asked was this one little thing of you and you couldn't do it.

You slowly, painfully, sat up and tried to get off the bed. Your legs hurt and you didn't even get to your feet before a hand pushed you back down.

It wasn't harsh, it was just Slash standing over you with a worried look in his eye. He wasn't letting you stand up yet, not when you were crying and hurting, not when it was his fault.

He had a warm, wet cloth in his hand and started wiping you down, cleaning you up while you cried, profusely apologizing to him even after he told you to stop.

Once he was done he tossed the cloth back into the bathroom and went to the closet. He got himself into some shorts and took out a shirt before coming back to put it on you, crawling into bed soon after and pulling you onto his lap.

Slash was never one for comfort, it's not that he didn't want to he just never quite figured out how to do it. He loved you, he did, and he wouldn't let you think otherwise. But in moments when you couldn't help but think otherwise, he never knew what to do.

He'd cleaned you up, told you not to cry, that everything would be ok, he said he loved you, you were in his shirt, in his arms... He picked up the phone on the nightstand and called up your favourite fast food place, ordering you your favourite snacks.

He let out a sigh as he set the phone down, looking at you with a pout and furrowed brows still, walking himself through everything he's done so far and what more there was to do.

"I love you." He said. "I'm sorry for pushing you to say that. There's no reason I ever should've pushed you to say that."

You sniffled softly. "I'm sorry..." You muttered.

"Shut up." He said, not thinking of how harsh it came off until after it left him. "No, don't, keep talking... I like your voice... but stop apologizing, I love you so, so much, alright?" He let out a heavy sigh. Logically he knew he'd said all he could... he never was good with emotions...

"I've got you food coming and you're safe now... What do you want..?" He asked, voice soft as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tighter to his chest.

"You were just angry and... I know you weren't angry at me..." You started.

"You don't believe what I said, do you?" He asked, not letting you finish your thought. Your silence was enough of an answer for him. "I didn't mean those things... I never mean those things..." He said.

"It doesn't feel like it..." You muttered.

Slash exhaled deeply. "I'm sorry, love." He said, the name sending something of comfort to you. "I never meant to hurt you like that, you didn't deserve it..." He kissed your cheek and temple, holding your hands in his.

He thought for a moment before resting his chin on your shoulder. "I love you..." He said softly. You gave a small nod but didn't say anything so he said it again. "I love you." He said it louder this time. "I love your eyes, your cheeks and your nose... I love your hair, I love how you smell..." He let out a soft breath, noticing how your body relaxed at his words. "I love your body, not because of how you make me feel but I love it because you are so beautiful and I don't always deserve you."

You looked back at him at that. Of course you thought he deserved you, you loved him that was enough, wasn't it? "I love you in every way, darling... I love your voice and I love your opinions and I love your cooking and I love everything you do for me and I love you more than I can say, you understand?"

You nodded, leaning back into him. He smiled and started placing kisses all over your face. "So, here's what's gonna happen. I'm gonna hold you and tell you how much I love you and when food gets here you're going to eat it because you need to eat and then we're going to bed and tomorrow I will bring you breakfast in bed. You're not leaving the room for the next week, either... I need to remind you how important you are and I can't do that if you're out there cleaning the house or something."

You chuckled softly at his willingness to really go this far.

Slash might not be the best when it came to dealing with others emotions or expressing his own emotions, but one things for sure; Ola raised one hell of a guy, and, if you really felt the need, you could call her and she'd be right over to set him straight. And he knew that.

[slytherinshua]

CRACK UNDER PRESSURE genre ➳ academic rivals to lovers. hurt/comfort. fluff. warnings ➳ throwing up. crying. reader is burnt out/stressed/insecure. pairing ➳ leehan x fem!reader. wc ➳ 1.4k. a/n ➳ from anon, here..

“And the first place winner of the annual KOZ math competition goes to… Kim Donghyun!!”

You felt a tinge of disappointment as you heard those words for the fifth time this competition season. You felt nauseous watching the boy walk up on stage, a perfect smile forming on his face, brightening up the room. You wanted to be as perfect as him. You would never even compare to him, though.

You could feel the tears starting to build in your eyes and you panicked. You didn’t want to cry at another event, it was embarrassing. You tried to breathe steadily, focusing on Leehan’s melodic voice as he thanked the judges and took his trophy. He turned and smiled at you and your heart got caught in your chest.

You rushed out of the auditorium. When you reached the bathroom, you were already heaving in harsh coughs. You hadn’t eaten much that day so there wasn’t much to discard, but it was still painful. You sobbed and sunk to the floor of the fancy bathrooms in the school. 

You were mad at everyone. At Leehan for being so perfect, and your parents for pressuring you to beat him when they knew deep down you couldn’t, but most of all you were mad at yourself. Why couldn’t you take the losses like a normal person? Why did you always cry and throw up and feel so sick after every competition? You were so tired of it.

You heard a soft knock on the door and looked up from your position on the floor, wiping your tears off your face hastily. 

“Y/n? Are you okay?” It was Leehan.

Your throat got tight again and fresh tears threatened to spill just from hearing his voice. Why was he always like this? 

“Y/n? Can I come in?” He whispered, waiting for your answer. You couldn’t find it in you to speak just yet. Your throat felt raw and burned from your body’s actions just minutes ago. “If you don’t answer, I’m gonna come in.” He said finally. There was another pause for about 2 minutes before you finally heard the door latch clicking open and light streaming into the rest room where you still sat on the cold tile floor.

“Y/n…” You looked up, hearing your name fall from his lips. He looked horrified. You had never seen his eyes hold such obvious worry. He was by your side in an instant, pushing back the hair that had fallen in your face and rubbing circles on your back.

“Leehan…” You whispered, feeling all types of disgusting, both physically and mentally. You wanted to flinch away from him, scared at the thought that he was seeing your imperfect side, but you didn’t have the strength and it would only scare him more.

Leehan crouched next to you for the next twenty minutes, waiting patiently until you calmed down fully, his hand never resting the soft motions on your back. The little action made you realise that you liked him a little more than you originally thought, and that came along with a twinge of disappointment knowing that you didn’t feel good enough for him.

//

The next day in class was a hard one. Despite Leehan’s soft smiles whenever he made eye contact with you, the loss of the previous day still held firmly in your mind. You couldn’t concentrate on your tests in class, let alone the lessons. You had always found getting straight A’s to be easy, but you now felt as if you didn’t have any more effort to put into your grades.

Leehan was probably the first to notice your change in demeanour. The competition day was constantly playing on repeat in his brain. He could read you perfectly from your eyes which was both a blessing and a curse for him. He cared about you more than you knew. Whenever he could tell that you were struggling it tore him up inside, but you were so good at concealing it that barely anyone else picked up on it.

“Hey,” Leehan mumbled, taking a seat in front of you and carefully passing you a chocolate milk.

“Hey…” You replied, keeping your eyes firmly situated on your notes. You had already spent too much of the day staring at the pretty boy in front of you, any longer and he might notice.

“Are you doing better?” There was a softness in his tone, portraying just how worried he had been. Your heart swelled a bit as you toyed with the small carton of chocolate milk. Should you tell him the truth?

“You won’t tell anyone, right?” You asked, glancing up at him.

“I promise I won’t.” He held out his pinky to you, offering a pinky promise which made you smile. You connected your fingers and stamped on it. Leehan didn’t let go of your hand, instead lacing his fingers with yours and placing his hand back on the desk, prompting you to start talking whenever you felt ready.

“My parents put this immense pressure on me to do well… And when I was younger, it was manageable. But, everything is so much more competitive in high school. No matter how hard I try, I just… keep falling behind.” Your words were getting quieter and more mumbled as you felt your nose start to burn and tears start to surface. You furiously tried to blink them back. You had already cried in front of Leehan one time this week.

Leehan squeezed your hand gently, picking up on the switch in your body language quicker than anyone else ever would. Leehan prided himself in his observation skills, and if there was anyone he wanted to observe, it was you. He found himself starting to make small circles on your smaller hand with his thumb, hoping to provide what little comfort he could. He felt that he was being rather obvious with his hopeless crush on you, but that was the last of his worries at the current moment.

He stayed with you for the rest of the afternoon, listening to all your worries. He didn’t try to solve your problems. He knew that would only stress you out more. He just lended you his ear to listen to your concerns, and his hand for you to hold. And that was all you ever needed.

With the help of Leehan, you built up the confidence to quit your competitions. With the promise to focus on your academic record and keeping your grades up, your parents, surprisingly, understood where you were coming from. 

Leehan promised that he would make sure you didn’t overwork yourself, and he kept up with it like his life depended on it. He would study with you, enforcing mandatory study breaks every hour. He would treat you to lunch or dinner, and always walk you home. What was once more of a rivalry was starting to feel more like a friendship. Leehan was the most comfortable to be around, and your feelings only grew for him everyday. 

“First place: Kim Donghyun!” You mimicked one of the judges' booming voices, teasing Leehan about his win at the science fair earlier that day. He was walking you home after dinner, the sun was just starting to tuck itself behind the horizon line, a glowing orange and pink sunset lighting up the sky before being consumed by a deep dark blue. Giggles came next out of your mouth and Leehan felt his heart speed up at the sound. You were happy again.

Leehan stopped walking, turning his face to you, “Your laughter is so… pretty.” Your heart caught in your throat at his words. The way he smiled at you made you feel almost dizzy. You didn’t know what to do except stare at him. He looked too perfect, like a Greek God; face perfectly sculpted, smile gorgeously crafted with the power to make you feel sickly in love.

He pulled you into his arms, getting shy from your gaze on him and needing to hide his pink cheeks somehow. The position only made you more flustered, though. He was so, so close. The thought of kissing him was on your mind, but you knew you didn’t have the confidence to do it.

Luckily, Leehan did. He held your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours slowly, carefully. His lips held all the sentiments that he hadn’t said out loud. 

I’m proud of you. 

I’m happy if you’re happy.

I love you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ boynextdoor taglist: @rizzshimura,, @captivq,, @icyminghao,, @yeonjuns-redhair,, @metalchick529

[justabigassnerd]

Bullying

Pairing - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x daughter!reader, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

Word count - 2,081

Warnings - bullying, injuries, passing out, worried Jake & Bradley, angst, fluff, swearing

Summary - your bullies start to get physically aggressive with you, leading you to hide your injuries from your dads. but secrets never stay secret for too long...

A/N - hey y'all I be here with a new part of Hangman Junior for you all to enjoy! this was a request sent in by @honkyhonkyyessir and I just hope I did the idea justice! I won't ramble but as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!!!

You thought that after the events of fighting back against the people who insulted your dads, you’d be able to get through the rest of your school life unbothered.

How wrong you were.

Apparently, fighting back might as well have slapped a big target on your back with flashing lights, demanding to be aimed at. You couldn’t remember when the insults became acts of physical violence, but it soon became your new normal to hide injuries you sustained from your dad and Bradley.

One day, as soon as you finished your lunch in the large school dining hall, you ducked into the nearest bathroom to inspect the injuries you knew were forming under your shirt.

“Of fucking course.” You whisper through gritted teeth as you stand in front of a mirror, lifting the bottom of your shirt and seeing the beginning of a bruise forming on your side from where one jock decided it would be funny to launch his football at you as hard as possible while you made your way towards the school building.

You sigh as you inspect the bruise further, gingerly poking at it to explore the pain level and wincing at the tenderness. You knew you had every right to fight back. To show them that a Seresin couldn’t be pushed around that easily. But you couldn’t find it within yourself to risk getting into trouble at school. After the fight you had about people insulting your dads, Jake had made you promise not to get into any more fights. He and Bradley both understood where you were coming from, but they didn’t want you getting into trouble or getting hurt. So you respected their wishes and didn’t fight back, although you longed to. It got harder with each passing day as the guys got bolder in their bullying. You were grateful though, that you got home from school before your dad and Bradley which meant you had time to take some painkillers that would kick in by the time you had walked Moose and your dads had gotten home.

On this particular day though, the boys that picked on you were much more aggressive than usual. Tripping you in the hallway, bumping you into lockers, whatever they could get away with, they were doing. When the school day had ended you planned on slipping out as quickly and as quietly as possible but of course, things never went the way you wanted them to. You were spotted moments after exiting the building by the jocks who always mingled outside before their practice began.

“Hey Seresin!” You barely had the time to register the words that were yelled over to you before you felt something make harsh contact with the side of your head, knocking you off balance and sending you crashing to the ground, not having nearly enough time to break your fall meaning your head made strong contact with the concrete floor.

Dazed from the contact between your head and the concrete you remained on the floor for a moment, trying to pull yourself together enough to get up and make your way home so you can hide and lick your wounds over the weekend until it all starts up again on Monday. Just as you decided to move, one of the jocks crossed to you and landed a strong kick to your stomach, making you curl into yourself, a groan of pain escaping you as the group of boys jeer loudly. Through your blurry vision, you could make out students walking past, not even sparing you a glance as they rushed past, hoping your tormenters wouldn’t suddenly turn on them. Often, you wished people would just step in and help, or just make sure you were okay. But you knew they just wanted to protect themselves above everything. And all the teachers were still inside the building finishing up any work or prepping to leave themselves, so you had no hope of a teacher coming to your aid either.

Before anything else could be done, one of the boys noticed the time and they all rushed off to go to their football practice. A minute after they left you slowly sat up, coughing and wincing, desperately trying to blink the blurriness from your vision. You eased your bag back onto your back and bit back a wince as you forced yourself to your feet. Your vision was swimming, and your head was throbbing. You knew that once you got home you should take Moose out for a walk but with your head in so much pain you were sure he could forgive you if you just wanted to curl up on your bed with him and nap the headache off before your dad and Bradley got home.

You made your way home, head throbbing and convinced you probably looked drunk to anybody seeing you pass due to your inability to walk in a straight line. Thankfully, you made it home with little to no problems until you reached your front door, which due to the blurriness in your vision, took four attempts to get the key into the keyhole to unlock the door. When you enter the house, Moose is instantly by your side, tail wagging as he barks in greeting, making your head feel like it’s going to explode.

“Moose, buddy quiet down.” You plead the dog, grateful he listened to your request and sat himself down opposite you, panting happily as his tail swished side to side.

“Hey y/n/n!” You almost jumped when you heard your dad’s voice come from the living room. You were still hidden from his line of sight so you took the opportunity to lean against the wall, hoping your vision would focus.

“Hey dad, you’re home early.” You try to joke, glancing down when you feel Moose prodding at your upper thigh with his nose. If your vision wasn’t blurry, you would’ve seen the worried look in your pet’s eyes as he continued to poke at you, trying to communicate his wishes.

“We both finished up our paperwork early so we got out of there before Cyclone could give us anything else.” You hear Bradley chuckle as you squeeze your eyes shut, silently begging your head to fix itself before you get found out. You heard the sounds of footsteps approaching the hallway and you opened your eyes to see your dad and Bradley poking their heads around the corner, faces falling when they notice how positively miserable you look.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Jake asks, eyebrow raised as you nod.

“Yeah, just got a little headache.” You lie, your vision growing darker from the nodding motion and before anyone else could say anything. Your legs stopped supporting your weight as you gave in to the inviting darkness.

Jake was quick to catch you before you hit the floor, looking up at Bradley desperately as both men panicked.

“y/n, sweetheart, can you hear me?” Jake says, turning his attention back to you, watching carefully for any response and feeling his heartbeat grow louder in his ears when you don’t respond.

“Let’s get her up to her room. We can monitor her here and when she wakes up, we can figure out whether to take her to hospital or not.” Bradley says, ever the level-headed one, as Jake nods, carefully getting to his feet as he keeps you securely in his arms, taking you up to your room and laying you on your bed. Moose jumped up on the bed just as Jake took a step back, having snuck in unnoticed.

“Moose, you should get down.” Bradley starts, stopping himself from saying anything else when Moose eases himself down alongside you, resting his head on your lap and whining softly, clearly worried about you as his eyes dart from Jake to you in the hopes Jake can fix what’s wrong with you.

“She’ll wake up soon, bud. She’ll be okay.” Jake promises the dog as he eases himself down on the desk chair to wait for you to wake up. Bradley crosses to Jake, takes Jake’s hand in his and squeezes softly, both men hoping it won’t be too long before you wake up.

You woke up just under five minutes later, eyes blinking open and being silently relieved that your vision was no longer blurry or swimming.

“y/n? Are you okay?” You glance over to see your dad leaping up from the chair, crossing to your bedside as Moose perks up at your side, lifting his head as his tail begins to thump against the duvet.

“I’m okay. I’m sorry if I scared you.” You mutter, glancing at both Jake and Bradley before trying to sit up, being stopped by a gentle hand on your shoulder from Bradley who shakes his head softly, encouraging you to stay put as Moose stretches up the bed, resting his head right where the bruise on your side was and neither Jake nor Bradley missed the slight wince you gave from the contact.

“y/n, sweetheart. I’d like the truth, please. What’s going on?” Jake asks softly, perching on the edge of your bed and looking at you, his worry evident all over his face. You reached out to stroke Moose, fingers tangling in his fur as Moose tentatively licks your arm. Comforted by your dog curled up next to you and the gentle expressions of both Jake and Bradley, you opened up. You told them about the bullying, about how the boys on the football team found enjoyment in treating you like shit. By the end of the explanation, both Jake and Bradley were furious, unable to believe that they were getting away with this.

“Those little shits better hope I never see them because I hate to think of what I’d do to them if I did.” Jake seethes, teeth gritted as he fights the urge not to run out of the house in search of them right now.

“Jake, the sentiment is appreciated but let’s not picture assaulting minors, as tempting as it is, it’s not the solution.” Bradley says, a hand braced on Jake’s shoulder just in case he tries to leap up and leave the house.

“We have to do something, Bradley. They’re hurting her.” Jake says, looking up at his husband who lets out a soft sigh, understanding why Jake wanted to fix this.

“And we’ll figure out a solution over the next couple of days. For now let’s let y/n rest, give her some painkillers, and let her relax. She’s okay.” Bradley says softly, watching as Jake lets out a soft exhale, feeling Jake’s body relax with the exhale and lifting his hand from his shoulder. Bradley excuses himself to grab some painkillers, leaving you and Jake alone in the room.

“I’m sorry for hiding it from you.” You mumble, briefly glancing over at your dad before looking back at your lap, ashamed of yourself for hiding this from him.

“You don’t have to be afraid to tell me about stuff like this. I can do my best to help you no matter the problem. That’s my job.” Jake says, his voice never straying from that soft tone you had grown so accustomed to growing up.

“I know. I just don’t want to worry you.” You admit, glancing at Moose who is watching you quietly.

“I always worry about you, sweetheart. That’s also part of my job as your father.” Jake says with a gentle chuckle, bringing a smile to your face as well.

“If you’re ever out and you need help. Call me or Bradley and we’ll get to you as quick as we can, okay?” Jake then says, looking at you as you nod lightly.

“Okay.” You confirm just as Bradley enters the room, painkillers, and a glass of water in hand. He hands you the items and you take the painkillers with a swig of water and relax back against your pillow after placing the glass on your bedside table. The two men then left you alone to rest, leaving you in the dutiful care of Moose who was more than happy to curl further into you and watch over you. As you set your laptop alongside you, opening a movie to watch you thought back on the threat that your dad had made towards the jocks that bullied you and laughed lightly.

You knew that if he ever did see those boys Bradley would have to hold him back.

taglist (comment or ask to be tagged):

@zbeez-outlet @kaceywithak @tsnelf7 @starkleila @cassadilasworld @shanimallina87 @madstxo @chaoticassidy @padsdarlg @lauraseresin @alohastitch0626 @angelbabyange @kmc1989

[wpdarlingpan]

Hello! How are u? I know u probably won’t see this as u haven’t written in long time but I saw u wrote for Peter Pan and I wanted to ask if u could write a yandere one. In season 3, he tries to cast a curse on story brook, what if he succeeded! What would have to Y/N? Perhaps also moments before the curse happens? Thank u (it is fine if u don’t want to write it I understand 😊) ♥️♥️

Hello!

Thank you so much for the ask, I definitely haven’t written much lately but I do love doing it so I have some requests I wanted to do and I loved your idea!

Sorry it’s a little all over the place, I’m a little rusty. I’m also sorry it’s taken so long, I’ve had a little bit of a writers block for awhile But I hope you like it! <3

Love?—————————

Peter Pan wasn’t likely the fairly tales foretold. He wasn’t boy who wore bright green tights and a hat with a red feather. He was far to devious to even dress in such a outfit. He was a forever ‘boy’ even though he stopped aging around 18 to 19 he couldn’t even remember. He never thought he would fall in love followed closely by obsession. But it just so happened he, unluckily, did.

Y/N lived in New York in the year 2010. They had grew up there alone side her foster siblings. Even meeting Emma when they were younger, the two always kept in contact even as they moved from home to home. After Emma was aged out of the system and Y/N was in her newly appointed home after the last family died in a mysterious fire. Although they never wished death upon anyone, they couldn’t help but be relieved that they were free of the torture and pain that the family inflicted, physically and mentally.

Y/N lived on the top floor of her foster family’s home, it was a rather spacious room with a rather large window where they could sit by and watch the stars. Once settled in they began to get a odd feeling, one as if someone was watching them. It lasted for weeks, it wasn’t the only odd occurrence. They had found dirt and some sort of odd sparkly substance throughout their room, especially on the window sill. Even by their bookshelf, although they didn’t even notice when their Peter Pan book was out of place.

One night they had just fallen asleep when the window latch got covered in a odd, glowing green color. The latch came undone and the window opened slowly. A figure walked towards the bed with a smirk on their face. Their eyes locked on their prey with obsession, and almost love shining in them. Before Y/N could even react poppy powder was blown into their face gently, assuring they wouldn’t wake up on their journey to the second star to the right. Peter Pan picked them up from the bed bridal style, not struggling against their weight.

“Finally my love. You are coming to where you belong.” He whispered into the silent night and flew out of the window effortlessly. Ignoring the phone on table that just had gotten a message from Emma.

Time skip

Y/N was defiant the first few years of living on the island, they of course wanted to return home but, they didn’t even know if they had one to return to. So they slowly began to adapt to their life. Although Peter wouldn’t allow them to spend time with the boys by themselves, not even with just Felix. If one of them even looked at Y/N for too long (which in his mind is past a second) they would face repercussions. He told Y/N how they only had to rely on him, that no one else cared for them as he. After a while, it would be hard not to believe them. Even momentarily forgetting about Emma. But she wouldn’t for long as there was a new boy on the island followed by his family.

Time skip

Y/N never saw Peter as a bad guy, of course he was harsh but their mind was full of so many delusions of the boy, they couldn’t pick it apart. But, the last straw was watching him take the heart of the truest believer, who they had come to know as Henry, not to save the island but to become more poweful. Not knowing he was becoming more powerful with the thought of them praising him and his ego grew by the second.

It had temporally worked but, the StoryBrooke crew had taken the heart back along with all of the lost boys, including Felix and a reluctant but persuaded Y/N. After seeing Emma they couldn’t help but collapse in her arms. It has been a long few years after all.

Y/N stayed with the Charming’s back in StoryBrooke, after all they had no one and no where to go.

Everyone had decided to keep Y/N out of the loop, hoping she would stay in the protection of their home as they worked out Pan and Henry switching bodies.

At the top of StoryBrooke on a hill stood Felix and Henry… well not actual Henry.

“Are we missing something?” Felix questioned, looking at the bubbles in the well.

“Yes.” Pan/Henry replied shortly as he watched it in anticipation. Also thinking of his soulmate in the apartment across town. Their beautiful eyes and bright smile. He didn’t care if Y/N didn’t love him as much as he loved them after what they saw but he would make them understand it was for the greater good of their relationship. Even preparing a sob story to manipulate them if need be.

“What is it?”

“The heart of the thing I love most.”

“You mean Y/N’s heart?!” Felix questioned in shock after seeing the years he stalked and pined after them, he couldn’t imagine him just killing Y/N. After all he was told Pan was trying to gain more power and a new land for the sake of new lost boys.

“Of course not, don’t be daft Felix. I would never hurt them.”

“Well, then whose heart do we need? Who else do you love?”

“Love can mean many things, Felix. It doesn't just come from romance like I have with Y/N or family. It can also come from loyalty. Friendship. Only one person has always believed in Pan.” Peter stated looking at the boy seriously as he replied in fear “That's me.”

“Don’t be afraid, its all for my love.” Pan took Felix’s heart right from his body, and watched as he slumped after he crushed his heart into it.

Time skip

After the curse was cast and a the ground shook slightly from the greenery taking over the town. Making it his own Neverland and prepared to send anyone who wasn’t from the land without magic back where they came from.

Y/N rushed out of the building to see the group frozen including Rumplestiltskin who had just failed in killing Peter Pan. Hearing the footsteps he turned around to see his beloved.

“Well, look whose joining the party,”

“Why are you doing this?!”

“It’s all for love, we will be together. Without any of these interferences.” He replied to Y/N’s question motioning to the group behind him as if they were trash. The group watched in fear while Pan smirked as the green smoke engulfed them, including Henry, and when it cleared the group was gone. Emma, now in the enchanted forest, stared into the spot Y/N once was in fear. They left them with the proclaimed demon.

Y/N stared at the spot in fear as they felt a arm snake around their waist, not letting up as they pushed and shoved against them.

“The land is ours now my love; and you and I will be their rulers. Side by side for the rest of our lives. Isn’t it wonderful?” Pan spoke looking at the now deserted StoryBrooke. “I Guess It’s time for some new lost boys eh? The others weren’t good enough anyways.”

Y/N couldnt reply as a tear fell down their cheek, realizing they were trapped for all eternity with the demon who had no limits, they couldn’t even see the good times they had in the past.

There was no future. They were stuck in a town where they would never change, watching as the world moved past and forgot about them.

Exactly what Peter Pan wanted.

[steddieas-shegoes]

if youre still doing the headcanons- "what is he doing here?"

Steve hadn't seen Eddie in two years. Hadn't talked to him in nearly three. He'd worked pretty hard to not have to hear anything about him or see any news about him for most of that time, too.

So when he sees him sitting on Dustin's couch, lounging, as if he belongs there, he gets a little pissed.

"What is he doing here?" He asks Dustin through gritted teeth.

Dustin failed to mention that anyone else would be at his house for their monthly dinner, let alone that Eddie would be here.

That Eddie was even back in Hawkins.

Eddie overheard him, sitting up on the couch quickly and staring at them both.

"Eddie's in town to visit with Wayne and he stopped by to say hi."

"And he's leaving?"

Eddie looked down at the floor.

Was he...sad? He looked sad.

Steve refused to care, he couldn't care. Not with how Eddie left.

No note, no phone call, just an apology through Dustin as if he should have ever been put in the middle of whatever they had.

But if he was this sad, maybe something was wrong with Wayne? Steve admittedly hadn't checked in with him in a few months, his questioning about what happened between them often leaving him feeling drained.

"No, he's not leaving." Dustin looked between them with an angry glare. "Neither of you are leaving actually. Not until you at least talk about things like adults. You don't have to be friends or whatever, but you damn sure can't keep doing what you're doing. Steve's miserable, Eddie's pretending he isn't. Fix it before we all tie you down and make you."

"Dust-"

"No!" Dustin held his hand up as Eddie tried to speak. "Fix it. I'm going to call Suzie and when I come back, you better at least be able to look at each other."

The next few minutes were silent. Awkward.

Painful.

He noted every physical change in Eddie, saw how thin he was, how the dark circles under his eyes had somehow gotten worse despite the fact that he'd left to make it big and succeeded. He should be happy.

He should be thriving.

He got everything he wanted.

He left Steve behind so he could.

"I guess we should at least talk a little," Eddie finally said, voice much quieter than Steve had ever heard it before.

"Sure."

Steve sat on the other end of the couch from Eddie, looked straight ahead so he could avoid making eye contact.

"I don't know if you keep up with me or anything-"

"I don't."

It was harsh, harsher than Steve actually meant to be. He saw Eddie flinch out of the corner of his eye, resisted the urge to apologize.

"Um. Okay, yeah. Makes sense." Eddie sighed. "I'm kind of. Okay, so I'm in Hawkins for more than just visiting Wayne."

"Okay."

"I'm here because the label isn't happy with my writer's block and they told me to take a couple months and write an album or they'll consider the contract voided."

"Mhm."

Eddie was bouncing his leg, an old anxious habit that clearly hasn't gone away.

"I'm hoping being back here will help. But I also just. I want to spend time with the people I care about. I miss everyone."

"Yeah, I bet."

"I miss you."

Steve's head turned to see Eddie looking at him, unshed tears building in his eyes.

"Eddie-"

"I know I have no right to say it. Or to even be here. I didn't just leave you, I left everyone. And I barely gave any explanation and I've barely kept in touch with anyone except Wayne and Dustin because I'm scared. I'm so overwhelmed all the time and I have so much pressure on me and I didn't want any of that I just wanted to make music and see the world. I haven't slept more than a few hours in two years. When I told our manager, he said to start taking cocaine. Taking it! Like it's medication! And I did actually use it a few times to stay awake. I hate it, hate the way I feel after, but it was that or fall asleep during photoshoots. And this sounds like I'm whining, but I'm just trying to keep it together long enough to make sure Wayne doesn't see how much I hate this and how much I just want to be here playing music at stupid bars and going fishing with him even though I hate fishing and playing D&D with the guys and kissing you."

Steve was biting back his own tears as Eddie's fell.

No matter what, no matter how he felt, no matter what Eddie had done to hurt him, it still hurt to see someone he loved hurting like this.

And wasn't that a thought.

He knew he still loved Eddie, he always would.

He just didn't think he would ever have to face it head on like this.

"Eddie, I." Steve cleared his throat. "I'm sorry things aren't what you wanted, but. I can't. I can't let you in again. I spent a year trying to tell myself you'd be back. A year watching your every move in newspapers and tv interviews. Waiting for the day you'd mention me or come visit and apologize for leaving like you did. But you didn't and I had to accept that. I had to force myself to believe that you didn't care because thinking that you did hurt worse. I couldn't love you the way I wanted to, so I had to tell myself you didn't love me, even though I'm pretty sure you did. I'm pretty sure you still do. But it wasn't enough then and it wouldn't be enough now, and I can't let myself settle for not enough. I've done it before, you know how that fucked me up. I can't let it happen again."

Eddie nodded once, then stood up.

He was leaving again, Steve knew it.

But then, Eddie sunk to his knees in front of Steve, placed his shaking hands on Steve's knees.

"If you tell me to stay, I will."

"Eddie-"

"No. Please. Tell me to stay. I don't want to go back and I need you to tell me to stay. Even if you never talk to me again, I need you to be the reason I give the guys when I tell them I can't do it anymore. They'll understand if it's you. They always knew it would be you."

"Stay. You need to stay."

Eddie sobbed as he dropped his head down, resting his forehead against Steve's knee.

Steve placed a hand on the back of his head, biting back a sob as Eddie's hands squeezed his legs.

Steve couldn't do this right now, he didn't think Eddie could either. Emotions were too high, Dustin was in the room down the hall, and Steve knew there would be yelling, and crying, and words said that might lead to regret.

But it was something to have Eddie here, something to have him begging for Steve to be the one to tell him to stay, something to know that Eddie missed him the way Steve missed them.

[coffee-430]

Heyy there!!! A huge congratulations on your milestone!!! ♡

Can i maybe request 9 with scaramoche from genshin? It would be great if nsfw but it's all up to you! Whatever you feel most comfortable writing! Have a great day/night! ʕ　˵·ᴥ·ʔ♡

—100 Followers Event!

No. 9: "I hate it when you ignore me. Must I need to teach you a lesson?" With Yandere Scaramouche

Character: Scaramouche

Warnings: yandere themes, non-consensual touching, obsessive behaviour, mentions of blood, rape, physical abuse

Note: No specifications, so reader is gender neutral in this one. Hope this was to your liking!

A low growl came from him, his eyes pierced onto your figure who was looking at the floor in defeat.

"How many times must I say this to you?"

He had caught you.

Again.

And this time, you could tell he wasn't going to be lenient towards you.

He had both your wrists chained and legs all bruised up, a punishment for your 'bad behaviour' as he would put it.

"..." You stared blankly at the floor. You hated this. Every second— every moment, you had enough of it. But every time you get a bit of taste of what it was once like before meeting him— he captures you.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Scaramouche would go on and on about how stupid it was— or how the notion of escaping him even got to your mind despite your many failed attempts.

You just stared, tired of it all, tired of everything, tired of him.

"—!?"

A sudden pull of your chin made you meet his gaze in surprise. Scaramouche leaned down to your face as he sneered.

"I hate it when you ignore me. Must I need to teach you a lesson?"

Your breath hitched, never liking when things come to that. You vigorously shook your head and tried to push him off.

"N-No please!" You screamed. "I'm sorry— I won't try to run away again! Please!"

"I've heard of those words before, and look where that got you." He chuckled sinisterly at you, he took your wrists and had you pinned down on the floor.

"Ack—!" You winced when your body made contact with the hard ground. Your body trembled in fear at what he was about to do.

"I still think I need to punish you. After all, you've been behaving badly the whole day." A hand was placed on your thigh while the other kept your arms in place.

"No! I don't want this!" You screamed, desperately wanting to get away.

"You deserve this." He smirked, getting on top of you as his hand slid on to the hem of your shorts— pulling it off without any warning.

Your eyes widened as you gasped, tears began to prick the corners of your eyes. "Tears already?" He chuckled.

"I haven't even started yet."

With one hand, he had you pin down and his other hand began undressing his lower half.

Once he did, he brought back his hand and placed it on your exposed region. He gave it a slap— instinctively wincing when his palm made that harsh move.

You yelp, gritting your teeth as he continues his abuse.

"Fuck," He grinned, staring down at you, loving the way how your body reacted. "You look so pretty all twitching like that."

You didn't know when he had stopped, because the next thing you know, he slipped inside a finger— catching you off guard.

"Ah!" You screamed, struggling to move away but it only made things worse. Another went in and then another.

You screamed at the violation, eyes fully crying. "Please! S-Stop!" You tried to plead again, but Scaramouche was never one to heed your pathetic cries.

As much as you hated to admit it, you curse your body for reacting the opposite of what you really felt.

"Heh, you're so wet now."

You hate this. You hate him.

Your cries fell upon deaf ears as you tried to move away, but it was futile. The living doll on top of you was far too strong than your current weakened form.

"—! Agh!"

A sharp shrill came out of you the moment he inserted himself. Everything felt so painful. Everything hurts to the core.

He began moving his hips and you could do nothing but endure and cry at every cruel touch.

"Ngh— so tight..." He sighed, one hand on your wrists while the other was squeezing your waist. "You feel so good, (Y/n)."

You arched your back every time he pushed back against you. Your body's reactions were made against your own will but he didn't care.

"You're taking me in so tightly— Ha... I bet this is what you wanted from the start." He laughed, every thrust of his was beginning to pick up the pace.

"I bet this is why you wanted to be punished so bad."

"No! Just s-stop! Please!"

Your throat hurt from the screaming and crying you were doing, and your body was starting to feel tired from all the struggling. Every moment hurt but there was nothing you can do about it.

You regret everything. Meeting him, pitying him, and giving him a taste of your kindness— everything. You shouldn't have done anything, you should've just left him alone and went on your way.

But alas, your own kindness has become the very thing that has led you to your doom.

"Mmh~ I'm close." Scaramouche announced, pounding inside you senselessly as his body began to feel the closeness of release.

You, on the other hand, was forced to feel such sensuality. Your body also began to feel its climax approaching.

"S-Scara..." You pleaded, voice becoming silent. Your face was wet with tears and sweat, your body aches all over.

He did not stop, pushing and pulling himself inside you— violating your insides with an animalistic speed. "Fuck— cum— I'm going to cum inside you."

At his words, something snapped at you. "No! Don't! Anything but that!" You shrieked, shaking your head vigorously and felt disgust at the thought of him finishing inside you.

"Shut up, whore. You're going to take it and I'm going to make you." He growled and his movements began erratic.

"Please! Please! Please!"

Breathing was starting to become difficult for you, chanting all the words that meant 'No' to him, but none made him stop.

"Cumming— I'm cumming...!" He hissed, finally reaching his climax and came inside you.

Your body did the same.

Arching your back as you orgasmed at his ruthless assault.

Scaramouche panted on top of you. He felt so warm inside and it disgusted you. You whimpered and sobbed once your body came down from its high.

"Shh," He shushed you, mockingly patting your head as to feign comfort. "You had it coming, sweetheart. You should've expected this."

He laughed, grinning at his own statement. His eyes looked pleased seeing you all broken, all hurt, and all pathetic beneath him.

Yes,

You should've seen this coming. You should've just sat still and behaved, maybe none of this would've happened? Who knows?

Still, all of this happened because you felt sorry for him. All because you were too kind for your own good.

And now, you must face the consequences of your own actions.

Because at the end of the day— all you can do is wait for some miracle to come and save you from this hell you managed to put yourself in.

[ay-masakali]

Dazai Birthday Week, Day 4

Aaah I got sick and I couldn't function and now I wrote this in under an hour because I had to participate in @dazaibirthdayweek2024

Prompt: Mentorship

Characters: Dazai and Atsushi (not romantic)

Warnings: Atsushi typical terrible self worth, angst

Enjoy!!!!!

“I don’t deserve to live, Dazai-san, I don’t, I don’t.”

Dazai’s not suited for this. Anyone else would do a better job than him.

“Why am I even breathing? I shouldn’t be allowed to breathe.” Atsushi is gasping, air not reaching his lungs, hands trembling between both of them where they’re knelt on the ground. 

The half mangled bodies of their targets are being carted out of the warehouse. Police sirens blare, shrill and headache inducing. Dazai has brought them behind the warehouse, to get Atsushi away from the suffocating darkness.  

They’re not dead. They could’ve endured much worse and survived.

“I don’t Dazai-san, I- I- No, Dazai-san, I don’t have permission I can’t, I can’t.”

The enemy ability user’s shield faltered under their attacks, the Agency having overestimated their strength, Atsushi their spearhead as he often is.

What could human flesh do against claws that rip through abilities?

Dazai tries to shush him but to his horror a teary sob wrenches its way out of the boy’s throat.

It was Dazai’s plan, and it’s Dazai’s fault but Atsushi is in no state to see that. There’s blood drying on his hands and words tumbling out his mouth and each one sends a stab at his heart.

Anyone would be better. But Kunikida is out handling the police and no one else came with them. 

Atsushi’s eyes are glazing over and he doesn’t have time. What would ground him? He hasn’t responded to anything Dazai’s said. He’s aware at least that Dazai is here with him. Pain or shouting are out of the question. No, those would only send him spiralling further.

Simple touch?

It’s worth trying. Atsushi does not expect harsh touches from him. He's always leaned into the softer ones, subtle and unconscious like if he acknowledged it the touch would go away. It has him thinking of another boy, dark hair with white tips. Any physical contact they shared were blows and nullifying taps and he was never one for physical affection but that boy would never expect soft touches from him would he? 

Atsushi's hands have found his hair, tugging and digging. His muttering has turned feverish, he's looking down not talking to Dazai anymore. He acts before the boy's completely lost to his head, he can think about everything later.

He coaxes Atsushi's hands away from his hair, letting them clutch onto his own hand. They still shake, tremors he tries to soothe with gentle strokes. He’s crying now, words unable to make it out of his mouth.

“Atsushi-kun,” he chides and his voice sounds so fond he’d feel sick in any other circumstance. He raises his other hand to wipe the tears mingling with the blood on his face. “That’s no way to talk about yourself.”

He leans into the contact but gives no indication of having heard him.

Dazai feels sick. His hands forever stained with blood, cupping his face with such care when his presence alone should be far far away from someone as pure as Atsushi. His blood infected with Mafia Black shouldn’t be so close to the boy’s skin. Someone who cares so much, cries so freely for these people he doesn’t know, who believes he has to prove himself worthy of being alive.

But he’s all that’s here.

“It’s rather silly isn’t it? Being allowed to live. No one dictates that, it’s only what you wish.”

Atsushi shakes his head, again with the same desperation he uttered those terrible words. “But I’m not. Not until I– No no no no, I’m trying, I’m trying why can’t you see why can’t you see?”

And Dazai knows he’s lost him. He’s addressing someone else entirely, grip on Dazai’s hand crushing, eyes looking beyond him.

So he leans against the wall, pulling Atsushi with him to lie against his front. He wraps his arms around him, one hand carding through his hair the other around his torso. 

The shaking has stopped and that counts for something. Though it’s replaced with chest heaving sobs, his face buried in Dazai’s shoulder, hands clutching his trenchcoat.

Anybody else would’ve been better.

He thinks of Akutagwa and he doesn’t know why his thoughts are straying. He never hugged him like this. Showing such vulnerability would be a weakness. Weakness that Dazai would exploit then and there to teach him a lesson. To never forget and never make that mistake again. After all, weakness in the mafia meant death.

The light is kinder. It lets Atsushi break down with no consequence. It lets Dazai be here, to help pick him up later, build him back up.

The light is kinder. 

Dazai holds him just a little tighter.

There’s another shuddering sob from Atsushi and then in a voice so quiet and small it aches, he says, “I want to live.”

“You will,” Dazai vows. “You will Atsushi-kun. You’ll grow old and get wrinkles and back pain, you’ll get married to someone who loves you. I’ll make sure of it.” 

His fingers tighten in the other’s shirt. His words fall on deaf ears.

Atsushi’s cries die out. He falls asleep soon after.

Kunikida finds them like that, Dazai’s gaze dark, nose buried in the boy’s hair.

Anybody would’ve been better.

[osamusbigtits]

osamu took a long hit from his quickly dwindling cigarette. he stared at the old contact in his phone, one he hadn't used in months. had it been years at that point? it had to be.

he pressed the call button and pressed his phone to his ear.

another hit as the phone rang. he stubbed out the cigarette right before he got an answer.

"osamu?" suna asked. osamu couldn't believe he answered.

he thought about lighting another cigarette.

"sorry to bother you," osamu said. his heart raced, he couldn't tell if it was the nicotine cravings or the voice on the other end of the phone.

"are you drinking?" his voice turned harsh. osamu didn't blame him.

"no. uh, that's actually why I'm calling you." osamu breathed out. "tsumu's not talking to me and I just... I need someone."

suna's silence made osamu regret calling. made his heart race and his cheeks heat up.

it made him want a drink.

"okay," suna said softly. "so you, uh. you quit drinking?"

osamu breathed out. his hand went to his pack of cigarettes. he decided not to light one. "yeah. uh, probably about 3 months ago." it had been exactly 56 days. each one was more painful than the last. but suna didn't know that. "mama and tsumu sat me down. told me I had a problem." suna hummed to show he was listening. "I thought tsumu would have told you."

"he only talks about your restaurant." suna's voice was still quiet. it made osamu wonder if he was with someone. did osamu interrupt something. "he said that, uh, you would tell me everything else going on one day."

osamu scoffed. "yeah, that sounds like him."

silence. again. osamu nibbled his bottom lip. deciding to quit drinking and smoking at the same time was the worst decision.

"you've been doing good in your games," osamu said. if only to distract himself. he wandered into his kitchen to grab a toothpick to chew on.

"thanks. we're not winning many games, though," suna sighed. "our captain retiring half way through the season because of the knee injury doesn't help."

"there's always next year," osamu said and took a seat at his kitchen table.

suna paused. "I don't think so."

osamu frowned. "why not?"

a deep sigh. "I'm sore. all the time, osamu." osamu shivered at his name. "it takes me longer and longer to recover after games. I'm retiring after this season."

"oh. I'm sorry."

"no, you didn't know. it's fine."

silence again. osamu tapped his finger on the table. "what are you planning to do after?"

"I'm not entirely sure yet. I know I'm gonna take a year off. just to relax and go to a physical therapist. I've already started some sessions." suna sighed. "after that? I have no clue."

"you could always come work at the restaurant," osamu said without thought. and then realization sunk in. "I just- I meant. you were a natural when you helped out when I first opened. and the help would be appreciated. you don't have to. obviously. and it'd be awkward, probably. anyway. sorry, I just, wow-"

"I appreciate the offer, osamu," suna said.

"sorry."

suna hummed. "thank you for calling me."

osamu's heart sped up. "really?"

"yeah. it was nice catching up with you. call me again sometime, yeah? anytime you need a distraction," suna's voice shook. osamu recognized the nerves, like suna thought he must be overstepping.

"yeah. I will. good night, rin."

"good night."

osamu felt lighter as he hung up the phone. the cravings for a drink had subsided. the headache from needing a cigarette had yet to pass.

he felt better, however. he missed suna. he had destroyed their relationship. still, it was nice to know suna had no hard feelings over it.

[crybaby-bkg]

Physical therapist AU that popped up into my mind yesterday and I can’t stop thinking about them!!!!

Bakugou as the physical therapist that most people are kind of scared of. He doesn’t get that many clients, only because his methods are a little harsh and his words are a little mean, but it’s only because he wants the best for you and your body. He focuses solely on your upper body and arms, for when you have pains or surgeries. He’s such an ass, likes to pick up 20 pound weights and show you how to do your exercise, tuts at you when you complain that your two pound weights are too heavy. But on the days when he really sees you struggling, his voice is a lot kinder, and he’ll give you the one pound weights when he sees your arms shaking a little. But the next appointment, you won’t be able to slack off!

Kiri as the lower body and legs physical therapist in the studio. He’s all cheery and bright when he sees you, is a little imposing with the eye contact whenever he explains each and every muscle in your calf and how it aids you and why it hurts when you run without warming up first. He’s just so big, doesn’t realize his size when he climbs up on the tables with you so that he can bend and twist your leg every which way to show you how it should feel. You hate to disappoint him, watch that bottom lip puff out when you admit that you haven’t done your exercises the way you were supposed to. He must hang out with Bakugou too much, because he goes just a little harder on you those days.

Deku who focuses on the whole body. He’s much like Kiri, with his big green eyes staring holes into your soul as he over explains where the soreness in your flank comes from. His hands are big and soft when they guide you into the right position he wants to put you in, his voice soft. Always whispers a drawn out ‘goooood job’ whenever you can do something he’s instructed you without any hiccups. He turns beet red whenever he realizes how his hands have found themselves in a compromising position on your body, just gets so caught up in guiding you, and it’s the most adorable thing ever.

Denki as the therapist who focuses solely on hands. He’s amazing with his fingers, all long and slender and pretty. He talks your head off when you come in after surgery on your pinky and middle finger, and you can’t help but find it endearing. He shows you how to do your exercises and routines, all pretty smiles and golden eyes that you can’t help but admire with a sweet sigh when you stare at him. He also buys his own lotion to massage into your hands, and coos about how soft they are and how good they smell after, embarrassing you whenever he holds your wrists up for other passersby’s to smell.

Shinsou works primarily with feet and ankles, and he’s damn good at it. He always has a bored little look on his face, and you’re scared he might be too rough, but he’s the complete opposite. Asks you intermittently, does this hurt? is the pain right here? should I add more pressure? And he doesn’t huff when you complain about his hands being too rough. He does give you a stern talking to though when he doesn’t see any progression because you haven’t been keeping up with at home maintenance. But on those days, he also offers up heat with the electro therapy treatment, because he knows you prefer it over the ice.

Todoroki as the additional chiropractor there???? His monotonous voice gives no indication when he’s going to basically separate your spine from your flesh, but you can always see his little hint of a smile when you scream a little. And delinquent turned front desk worker Dabi???? who only works there because his annoying brother got him job, but he doesn’t mind it because he gets to flirt with the patients before they’re whisked off to the back.

[sylviesoothsayer22]

Jagged Pieces, Somehow Fit Together (Teaser)

Hua Cheng x Wei Ying x Xie Lian

Premise: We’ve all heard of soulmates that have each other’s names written on their wrists or can only visit each other in their dreams. In this AU, soulmates can feel each other’s physical pain/injuries/sensations (mainly taste and smell) and I’m applying this to HuaWeiLian at the start of their mortal lives…..Get ready for the angst train, folks~

IMPORTANT NOTE: This just a teaser for a current WIP I've got. Will eventually post the full work when it's ready.

Two souls able to feel the third being discriminated against, ganged up on and deliberately targeted with disgust and malicious intent. Able to feel the sharp flashes of pain cracking across their knuckles and the metallic taste of blood every time their soulmate punches and bites back at the bullies. Able to feel their soulmate clawing at the right side of his face with what seemed like absolute self-loathing, as if he wanted to gouge his own eye out.

Two souls able to feel the third getting slapped around whenever the little one made the ‘mistake’ of begging too close to street vendors and ‘respectable’ businesses. Able to feel the relentless hunger pangs whenever he couldn’t find anything to eat and forces himself to eat roots, bugs and drying fruit peels tossed in the street. Able to feel the chilblains crawling up his fingers and the relentless shivers he’s forced to endure in the ice cold winters with no proper shelter.

Two souls able to feel the third…and there was relief in their hearts once they knew that at least one of them wasn’t suffering so needlessly. Never feeling any hunger and always staying warm, always near some sort of hearth and wrapped in what felt like soft furs. There was no fear, anger or despair to be found with their other soulmate. And they were glad. The only times that they felt pain from them was the in frequent muscle pains in their limbs, back and abdominal area to which Ying’er and Hong’er eventually realised that their other soulmate was putting in the work to become some sort of martial arts expert.

Xie Lian would often feel the numerous trials his two soulmates would endure and quickly figured out that they must be from the struggling class. Often sneaking out into the poorer areas of Xianle when he was old enough, hoping that he would find them. Making vain attempts to comfort them through their soul bond whenever he came back empty handed. 

He would wrap himself in layers upon layers of luxurious furs and sit close to a fireplace whenever he felt them shivering from the harsh cold, tried tasting different types of food whenever he felt them suffering from hunger. 

The young prince quickly finds out that one of them is partial to spicy dishes, if the childish, excited squeezes he felt in his elbows were anything to go by.

The other one seemed more reluctant to make contact, only giving small light-hearted pokes in the ribs whenever Xie Lian ruffled his hair in a playful manner or lightly squeezed his sides as if he were embracing the other, ensuring that it reached his more reserved mate. Both his soulmates seemed to be starving for affection. 

Xie Lian hoped that they could be soothed even just a little. Just until he finds them and brings them back to the palace.

It won’t be like this forever. He thought. I’ll find them and they won’t ever have to worry about anything ever again.

…..

Stay tuned for the full work! Hope ya enjoyed!

Many thanks~