#Baby Girl (GN)

[emmyrosee]

Bakugou is, for all intents and purposes, a massive baby.

God forbid you leave him for ten minutes before he starts wandering around the house looking for you. Mercy on you if you go out to the grocery store and don’t take him. And how dare you even consider get up to get a snack when he's in the bathroom, letting your shared spot get cold.

These things, he can not let go easily.

Naturally, this slips your mind every once in a while because a peaceful life with Bakugou Katsuki doesn't exist. When you forget, he makes it his mission to force you to remember his clingy ass.

Tonight, it would appear to be no different.

It's 02:30 when you snap back to reality, bleary eyes blinking to get your bearings back.

The lamp on the side table blinds you momentarily, there's music coming from the tv- credits, you deduce, from the show Denki had raved to you both about. When you angle your head up, you're met with a firm jawline that lets out a loud snore from the slight disturbance.

Katsuki never was good at staying awake during these things.

Smiling up at him, you're quick to place a tender little kiss on his chin, watching as the corners of his mouth twitches slightly. Gently, you slip out of his arms and cover him with the blanket, using the parted lips releasing the smallest little snores to ensure his slumber. He smacks his lips and turns slightly on his side, as if chasing the warmth you'd taken away, and you click the tv off to keep him in the dark. You shuffle your way into your bedroom to get your own rest; you shiver once you slip under the covers, the fabric cold from the lack of use and lack of Katsuki's body heat.

The minute you do warm up, however, you're out like a light, and you remain so for a few hours.

But then, there's someone at the end of your bed. You feel them, and it wakes you just barely. You shift the blankets higher on your shoulder for protection from whatever your subconsious picks up, and just when you feel normal, something speaks.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

The raspy voice coming from the foot of your bed is more than enough to snap you from your sleep, but it isn’t until you see the massive, bulky frame that your heart sinks and you scream, you scream as loud as you can, immediately scrambling to the corner of your bed.

“Stop screaming, it’s me.”

Your shaking hands immediately shoot to the lamp next to your bed and upon flicking it on, you’re greeted by a sleepy Katsuki, blanket around his shoulders and sleepy scowl on his face, as if you’re the one who just inconvenienced him.

“You freak! What are you doing!” You snap, quickly rubbing your eyes to knock the sleep from them to properly scold. He merely shrugs and smacks his tired lips, indifferent to the previous heart attack he’d given you.

“Left me alone on the couch,” he says, dropping the blanket onto the floor before crawling into bed next to you, casually. “We were snuggling. You abandoned me.”

“You-! I was-! Why-!”

“You’re lucky I love you so much,” he says, burying his face into his pillow and making a grabby hand for you, “c’mere, wanna spoon.”

Your heart, still pounding in your chest, finally lets breaths of air in, your hands trembling as you flick back off the light. You’re still mad, now shaking with fury, and as you roll to have your back facing him, you try to take deep breaths to calm down and not smother the man you somehow chose to love with a pillow.

“Hey,” he grumbles, tugging your sleep shirt. “Come here.”

“I can’t fucking stand you, Katsuki. I don’t even want to be in the same bed as you right now, you scared the fucking shit out of me.”

“Didn’t mean to,” he says softly. “Jus’ wanted to be close to you.”

“And you thought threATENING ME AT THE END OF OUR BED WAS A GOOD WAY TO DO THAT?”

He goes silent, and you almost think he’s given up, and just as you blink your stinging eyes, he suddenly rolls on top of you, knocking the wind out of you at his heaviness.

“Katsuki!” You scold, but it’s shrouded in laughter, an absolute contrast of how you just were talking all of ten seconds ago.

“Now you can’t leave,” he says, cockily. “You wake me again and I will kill you.”

“You woke me up just now! You could’ve easily come to bed like any sane person!”

“….”

“Katsuki!”

“Cant hear you, I’m asleep.”

“KATSUKI!”

[agender-wolfie]

Imagine Ghost’s favorite mug broke (totally not Soap’s fault 👀) and Simon is just all grumbly and upset about it when you come into his office with a plain black mug filled with his favorite tea, made just the way he likes. (He says you’re the only one that’s allowed to make him tea because you’re the only one that does it right. )

His eyes widen for a second and before he can say anything, you speak up. “I got you a new mug! And I made you tea!” Your smile was bright and excited and he felt warmth flood his chest as well as his face.

He carefully took the mug from you, his fingertips brushing your own before he stared down at the tea and then slowly back at you. “You didn’t have to” was his low reply. He’s grateful, truly he is! He’s just never been given a gift before and he wasn’t expecting anything, so you waltzing in here with a childlike giddiness and a smile that needed to be protected, he was a bit unsure of what else to say.

“I know, silly but I wanted to!” You giggled and he gripped the mug a little tighter, thankful for his mask. “Thank you…” it was short sweet and to the point. The most you’d get out of him but you know what he really means.

“You’re very welcome, enjoy the tea!” You said before turning and leaving with a skip in your step.

And Simon did just that; thinking about you every time he took a sip. He was lost in his thoughts when something caught his eye. At the bottom of his mug he could see something white slightly peeking out of what tea was left.

It was obvious it wasn’t a foreign object, it was ceramic like the rest of the mug and it didn’t move. He continued to drink until he was finished and when he got to the bottom he just stared.

If anyone came into his office at that moment, they’d probably have a heart attack because on Ghost’s face was the biggest grin he’d ever had. You were always so thoughtful, he’d have to thank you properly later. Maybe with a special mug of your own? You don’t have one of those, you just use the ones on hand.

[zorosdimples]

the way “good girl” goes right to my clit needs to be scientifically studied

[luxthestrange]

Incorrect quotes#837 Snap back

When You meet one angel who is speaking out their way to show her disdain for demons how they want to interact with humans and how she seems to want to put in into what you and Solomon have with Simeon, Even tho he has shown her nothing of interest romanticly

Female Angel: You all are such disgusting, loathsome beasts! Your kind is nothing but dirt that shitty dead people tread on! And now, you’re trying to meddle with the lives of HUMANS?!

Dia*Frowns and is about to open his mouth but squeaks when he is pulled back*!?!

Mc*Pull Diavolo aside before he could talk, picking him away from the angel* So are you! So why don’t you shut your trap, you judgmental-*pulls herby her necklace and snaps it back*cotton candy, NON COMPARED TO DIA tit-havin’ BIIIITCH?!

Female Angel*IStares for a minute then growls*…FILTHY DEMON CRAP!!! *tackles Mc*

Luke*Throwing you a shovel*GET 'ER MAMA/DADDY!

[zhouxiangs]

MY STAND-IN (2024) | Episode 3

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

the need to write gn!readers vs the desire to have gojo satoru call u ”my sweet girl” ://////

[cosmicstarlatte]

Giving Him Flowers (Obey Me!)

━━━━━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━━━━━

While on a trip to the human world, you decide to come back with flowers for your favorite of the 3 eldest brothers.

»Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, and Levi.

»Tags: GN Reader, Mammon being cute and dumb♡♡♡, Fluffyyy, Drabble, OP studied for this fic lol

»Notes: I was listening to flowers by miley and was like hmm that song title gives me an idea lol also I had my OC in mind for this but also works for reader

Lucifer:

Karma Choc Dahlias : Admiration,Strength,Power,Love

"What's this?" Lucifer stared curiously at the vase of dahlias you handed him.

"Huh? They're flowers, for you," you paused and then continued "Oh as humans we like to give flowers for different reasons. These ones...they reminded me of you!" You smiled but wondered if maybe it was dumb to hand the avatar of pride flowers. You shook the thought away quickly, you wanted to show him in your own way, your love for him. Flowers meant a lot to you.

Lucifer tenderly touched the red and black petals. He loves flowers. He was never given human world flowers before though. He placed the flowers gently on his desk and turned to you.

"In what way did they remind you of me?" He questioned curiously.

You took a confident step forward and cupped his cheek with one hand. His cheeks held the faintest blush. You can tell he missed your touch while you were gone.

"Well, first things first, they're absolutely gorgeous. And look, they match your eyes!" You smiled and placed a small kiss on his nose before continuing.

"These are actually a special type of dahlias. They're grown to have strong stems, they won't droop even in rain! These dahlias represent strength and power and they also mean... love and admiration." You finished explaining and pecked his cheek. Lucifer gave you a soft sweet smile.

"I didn't realize human world flowers could be so meaningful," He murmured thoughtfully. "Thank you. I will take great care of them..."

Lucifer took your hand and kissed it before placing it back on his cheek for warmth.

"And...I love you too."

Mammon:

Blue Primroses: First, Love, Trust, Safety, Can't Live Without You

"I'm home!" You said as you ran towards Mammon who was already waiting for you outside the house  for your arrival. He tried to not look too excited but practically sprinted to you anyway. He then noticed the vase in your hands and stopped short of hugging you.

"Here! For you!" You said pushing the dark blue and yellow primroses towards him. He looked at them and bit some of the petals off before spitting them out in disgust.

"Eh!? They're not very good!" He spat a few more petals out. You snorted.

"To each their own. But I meant these more for decoration! They're Mammon flowers! To decorate your room or whatever!" You happily chirped as you fixed up the flowers. "I got them because they reminded me of you! They're technically called primroses but I call them Mammon flowers which I like better!"

"Y-ya thought of me while you were up there!?"

"Uhh yeah? And when I saw these I knew I had to get them for you. They match your eyes perfectly, they're so lovely! Where I'm from, these flowers mean love,trust,safety...and 'prim' is the Latin root word for-"

"First." Mammon said cutting you off, appearing dazed.

"What can I say, you were my first after all!" You said winking at him.

"C'mere."

He gently placed the flowers on the ground before wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you into a tight hug.

"I missed ya." He whispered.

"But don't go tellin' everyone that, ya hear!?"

Bonus:

Mammon frantically burst into your room with his vase of very much dead, wilted flowers.

"I don't know what happened! They're not like before!" He freaked out looking as stressed as ever. You tried to cover up your laugh at his sillyness. Poor thing doesn't know.

"Human world flowers only last a few days, Mammon."

"Oh."

Mammon huffed and walked towards you, holding the vase out to you.

"Well!? "

"Well what?" You said raising an eyebrow curiously.

Mammon cleared his throat and mumbled something as he looked away, his cheeks turned a bright red.

"I didn't catch any of that Mammon."

He sighed loudly.

"Aren't ya gonna get me more Mammon flowers or what! It's rude! My room feels different now!" He spilled out. You laughed and took the vase with one hand and reached out with your other to pat his white head of hair.

"You're right. Don't worry, I'll get you more soon and make sure to replace them every time." You promised the upset demon. You kissed his cheek and he finally relaxed.

"Good! Hmph!"

Levi:

Orange-Purple Pansies: Love, Beauty, Joy, Passion, Loyalty, Thoughtful. Orange ones are rarer to find!

You weren't suppose to be back for another day but decided to come home early. You couldn't wait to see your favorite demon. You tried to time it right so no one would ruin the surprise; you rushed into the house knowing where everyone should be and made a dash to Levi's room, who unsurprisingly, started yelling at the sudden intrusion until seeing it was you.

"W-what!? H-how!?" He squeaked out excitedly but then turned embarrassed. He tried to cover up the Ruri pajamas he was now suddenly aware of.

"Oh Leviachan, you're as beautiful as ever. I've seen much more different sides of you." You grinned devilishly. He squeaked trying to cover his face now.

"Anyway! My trip ended early and I wanted to surprise you! I got you a gift, here!"

You handed him some brightly colored orange-purple pansies. He blushed as he looked over them curiously. He sniffed them, letting out a tiny cute sneeze.

"Human world flowers!? Oooh I've seen these before! They're the official symbol in Osaka, Japan!" He geeked out and gently touched the soft petals.

"Oh even more fitting." You thought out loud.

"What do you mean?" Levi asked as he hugged the vase tightly.

"I got them because they reminded me of a certain demon otaku. You know, beautiful orange eyes with hints of purple." You admitted as Levi turned red and started stuttering self-depreciating nonsense. You shushed him with a finger.

"Flowers can have a lot of meaning in the human world y'know," you took one of his hands and separated his fingers gently. You pressed his pinky against your lips in a kiss as his breath hitched. "Like these pansies from me to you mean love," kiss "loyalty" kiss "joy" kiss and passion." You finished, pressing his thumb softly against your lips in a final kiss. Levi was left shaking. He really was cute. "You're a rare beautiful find, just like these flowers."

"Y-you m-mean a-all of that!?" He asked looking at you all wide-eyed. You sighed and took the vase from his hands and placed it on his desk before finally engulfing him in a giant tight hug.

"I meant everything. I couldn't wait to see you, I even sneaked in here unnoticed by everyone to surprise you!"

"W-what!?"

You giggled.

"Since no one knows I'm here, how about we keep it that way? You don't mind if I stay here tonight right?"

⬦You might also like: MC Feeling Insecure︱You ARE The Father︱Only You (Lucifer)

[so-long-soldier-writes]

drabble #2 - the bots

kol mikaelson x reader

summary: thousand year old vampires vs the bots messaging you on your phone… who will win?

tags: tumblr, very confused vampires, up-to-date on modern life klaus but severely lacking kol, protective!kol

word count: 553

a/n: i wrote this soooo long ago, then forgot about it! like, wrote it when all of tumblr was being attacked by bots, before things finally settled down. also, this is cheesy af ;)

“Don’t ‘hey’ me,” you mutter at the new notification on your screen.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh, not you, you’re fine.”

“Wait,” Kol sits up, “who then?”

“Oh just another stupid porn bot on tumblr.”

“A what?” At your comment, Elijah looks over to you, too. 

“Oh, right. New to the twenty-first century. Um, just a person - er, not a person, a robot - messaging me for… messaging me.” You try to explain. You had almost said, ‘messaging me for sex,’ but stopped yourself immediately. 

“Messaging for what?”

Fuck. “Um…”

Elijah then asks, “did you say a robot is messaging you?”

You focus on the elder brother’s question first, “yeah. It’s actually quite common in the last couple decades. Lots of customer service people are robots, people trying to scam others can use robots, either for identity theft or whatever else… I’m not good at explaining it, but yeah.”

“So what does your robot want?”

You grimace, “it’s certainly not my robot, it’s just messaging me. But the tumblr bots all are looking for, like, sexual engagement. They message everyone because they don’t know anything about the people they are messaging, but they want bored, horny people to click on their bio links and buy their… porn.”

“You need to tell it to go away.” Kol’s jaw is tense. 

“Yeah, I’m about to block it.”

“No, you need to tell it to stop.”

“I don’t want to actually interact with them because then they’ll keep coming back. They’re like seagulls, Kol. They don’t actually understand the words I’m saying. They see engagement in any way and take it as a win.”

“Well you need to tell someone. You’re mine and they need to know that.”

“Calm down, brother.”

You put a hand on Kol’s knee. “It’s okay, they’re not gonna have me in any way. We report them to staff and block them; it’s the easiest and most effective way to deal with them. And I’m saying ‘we’ as everyone on the app who deals with them.”

“Can you stop using the app, then?”

“Oh, sweetheart… One, no. I’ll still be blogging when I’m six feet under. Two, they’re everywhere, and there’s really no escaping them.”

Elijah steps in again, “trust her, Kol, she knows what she’s doing. Y/N’s a smart girl.”

You send him a smile, then turn to your boyfriend, “I love you, Kol. Only you. I never have and never will engage with the stupid bots, okay? No one’s taking me from you.” 

He finally seems to relax after this. “I still hate them.”

“Everyone does, baby.”

“What are you three talking about?” Klaus barges into the living room. 

“Y/N just introduced us to something called a porn bot, have you heard of them?” Elijah turns to the hybrid. 

“Oh, those shucks are all over the place, can’t bloody stand them! Caroline says you block them and move on!”

He’s gone immediately after, and you turn back to Kol. “See? They even harass your brother.”

A chuckle passes his lips as he thinks of that situation. “Okay. Thank you for explaining it. I was debating if I needed to send the person a death threat, or smash your phone with a hammer.”

“Neither of those things, baby. I am completely yours, and you don’t have to worry a thing.”

[lei-tired]

The calm after the storm-GN!Reader x Leon kennedy Re4 remake

Aww my poor baby needs some love and comfort :(

Warnings

Mentions of pills, axes, blood, wounds, etc. Please be cautious when reading dear! 💞 Takes place after Re4

He was standing in his empty apartment. Cuts, bruises, and injuries litter his body. The soft rising and falling of his chest as he takes a deep breath, trying to cool himself down from the heat of the burning pain. The burning, searing, flaming pain of each injury. 

His blue eyes flicker down to his hands. The same hands that held the guns, the same hands that were covered in blood. He lets out a groan and puts his hands back at his sides. Memories of everything that happened flashed through his mind.

Every person, every yell, every scream. All of the blood and the horrible smell of death that surrounded that horrific town.

He could still practically smell it on him. The nasty..horrific scent of blood and sorrow. How his eyes watered with tears from the memories. The horrible trauma was still fresh and new in his mind. He remembered the animalistic groans and yells from the villagers. He jumped in shock when a thunderous cry filled the night sky. 

Lightning followed shortly after, adorning his room. It was still the same way he had left it before he left for that horrific mission. Rain softly patterned against his window as he looked around his now-dark room. His bed in the middle pressed firmly against the wall. Grey sheets sheathed his bed, slight ruffles in them from the nights of his turning and tossing in his bed. The soft black and grey comforter was neatly laid out on his bed, a corner open so he could have easier access to his bed.

His eyes moved to his pillows. A grey color covers them as well. There were two larger ones and a smaller, more narrow one for him to hug. The headboard of his bead was a black smokey color. It was padded as well. The foot of his bed had a black smokey board. His eyes moved to his nightstand. There was a lamp there with a black cover. A few empty pill bottles littered the top. A brand new bottle of pills sat there, unopened and untampered. 

The rain pattering steadily against his window continued to serve as a sort of white noise. A round of thunder came again before the familiar white flash illuminated his room once more. His eyes traveled to the floors of his room. They were a black wooden floor. The black was soft and smokey so you could walk easily and not get tripped out and it served as an aesthetically pleasing sight.

His eyes moved to the small circular gray carpet that lay on his floor. A few stray pieces of clothing he dropped while grabbing his gear for the mission. He quietly walked over to them, the sound of his shoes gently hitting the wooden floors softly echoing through his room and then disappearing. He bent down and gently picked up the clothing. He observed them gently to see what they were. In his hands was a soft dark navy blue T-shirt. He gently tossed it into his clothing hamper. He picked up the other articles of clothing that included a pair of black jeans, a pair of socks, and one pair of boxers.

As he stood back up fully he was met with his black closet. There were silver knobs on them. His eyes traveled over the pictures of people he met in the agency. His eyes traveled over to his mirror. His eyes widened slightly for a moment as he saw his reflection. He walked to the mirror that was on his desk. 

He looked into the reflection, his tired blue eyes met with the sight of his tired, beaten up, and weary form. His arms were scabbed over with blood from several scratches from fences, plants, trees, and walls that he accidentally scratched himself on.

His wrists were bruised. He was slightly confused about why before he remembered the room he was in with Luis.  A soft smile feigned over his lips as he remembered Luis. Although..soon enough his smile turned into a frown as he remembered Luis' death.

A shaky sigh left his lips. It was soft and quiet as it left him. He let his eyes continue to wander over his disheveled figure. His hair was soft but slightly plagued by blood in some spots. The blood was dry and a darker color. His hair had little strays from him moving around and fighting so much.

His eyes traveled to his face. There was a cut on his cheek and a bruise forming on his cheek. There were dark eyebags under his eyes. His pupils were dilated from the darkness of his room. A cut was on his top lip as well. His eyes wandered down to his neck which was slowly also starting to bruise. He could make out a handprint that was starting to form. 

His eyes moved to his shoulders which had slightly healed cuts from axes. He had bruises that littered his forearms. His shirt was slightly ripped and snagged in some places. His eyes wandered down to his legs. His pants covered every injury that he could feel but not see. He knew they were there without even seeing them. 

His eyes looked back at his mirror. More photos of people from the agency were on the sides of the mirror. His eyes glanced over to a few. There were four. Different pictures of Krauser and him. One picture was in the training fields. Krauser had a smirk on his face. Leon was looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. He remembered that day...

He remembered that Krauser wanted to show him a new move. A new defensive move nonetheless. Leon ended up falling on the ground not some mud and Krauser had laughed at him.

The second photo...Krauser was holding the camera. Leon was in the bathroom, scrubbing off some marker doodles the others had drawn on him after he fell asleep. Krauser had a smile on his face and he was holding back a teasing laugh.

The third photo was of Kraused and Leon. Krauser was sharpening his knife and Leon was watching him out of pure boredom.

The fourth photo was of Leon and Krauser standing next to each other. They were in uniform. Krauser had an arm around Leon and rubbed his knuckle on his head. Leon was Laughing and trying to get his hand off of him.

Leon felt a weird feeling of conflict in his stomach. He remembered how he killed Krauser...how Krauser killed Luis. He remembered everything. He turned his head away. He looked back at his room.

His eyes looked around before he saw his bathroom door. He thought for a moment. A shower seemed...nice. He walked over and opened the door quietly. His bruised hand gently touched the light switch. The bathroom's lights turned on. His eyes squinted from the bright light and he blinked a few times before he got used to it.

He took his shoes off carefully and gently placed them down. His feet hurt because of jumping from high heights, walking, running, jumping, and having to hold his and Ashley's body weight sometimes. He let his hands gently grab the bottom of his shirt and pull it up. A shooting wave of pain shot through hir lower back and shoulders.

He let out a groan and stopped for a second. He took a deep breath before he managed to get his shirt off. He gently placed it on his marbled sink counter. He slid off his pants and his buckle. A feeling of relief washed through him as the pressure from his waistband and buckle finally released.

He looked at his body in the mirror. Even more cuts, stabs, and wounds were visible. He grimaced and turned his face away. He laid a soft white towel out on the rack. He had one of those glass showers with the doors.

His hand reached for the door handle and he turned the shower on. He put it to the hottest temperature and closed the door, waiting for it to heat up. While he was waiting he took off his socks. And right before he got in he slid his boxers off. They fell to the floor with a soft noise and he stepped out of them.

He opened the glass door and stepped in. He let out a sigh and a happy hum from the relief of the warm water. "mm.." He closed his eyes softly for a moment, allowing his ears to do the only work. He could hear the water bouncing off of his sore body and hitting the glass or the marble floor of his shower. He could hear his soft noises of relief softly echo and reverberate against the glass and walls of his shower.

He stretched and he could hear a few pops and cracks and he felt relief. He let out a soft sigh and grabbed a bottle of his shampoo. The shampoo was healing and restoring. It had a soft, sweet scent of honey and fresh air. It was a soft but noticeable scent.

He squeezed the bottle gently and closed it afterward. He put the bottle back on its rack before he gently scrubbed the shampoo into the roots of his hair. The soft smell of fresh air and honey mixed with the smell of the hot water almost immediately. The suds and bubbles formed in his hair as his hands gently massaged his scalp.

He let it sit for a moment or two before he washed it out gently. He tilted his head back to avoid getting any soapy water in his eyes. Though...after what he has seen, that may not have been the worst idea.

He grabbed his conditioner and put it in his hair as well, but he let it sit in his hair. While he let it sit he grabbed a loofa and he got some of his soft-smelling Dove body wash. The scent was sweet and soft but not perfumy.

He put some water on the loofa and let the soap foam up before he gently washed his body. He got his arms, legs, feet, and his inner thighs. He got his back and his shoulders as well. He gently washed all of that off and then washed a few other places. After he finished all of that he gently scrubbed his face to get all of the dirt and grime off of him. He finally felt clean after the sweat that had dried on his skin washed off. He cleaned the loofa and then washed the conditioner out of his hair.

He continued to let the water console his aching and pain-filled body as a bit of relief washed over him. He carefully got out of the shower after turning it off. The glass was clouded and so was the mirror. He grabbed the towel and dried his hair and then his body. He wrapped the towel around his waist and he grabbed his hair dryer and brush. 

He spent 5 minutes drying his hair and brushing it. His hair was free from dirt, grime, sweat, and blood. He ran his fingers through his soft and dry hair. He picked up his clothes and put them in his dirty clothes on his way out of the bathroom, deciding to just leave his shoes in there.

He walked to the black closet and his hands gently opened the doors. He grabbed a soft black hoodie and he grabbed new socks, boxers, and some shorts. He put on the hoodie and slid the boxers up his injured legs and up to his waist. He pulled on his shorts before he walked to his bed and slid on his socks.

He was sitting on his bed, now letting everything that happened seem like a memory, a distant but also new memory. He started to get lost in the memory of everything that happened. He felt his chest tighten up and his breath left him as quickly as it came. Tears blurred his vision and he choked a few times on his tears and coughs as he tried to breathe. 

Suddenly his phone vibrates. He jumped, feeling nervous and paranoid. He wiped his eyes slightly and reached a very shaky hand to his phone. He looked at the screen and a bit of relief washed through his system. You had texted him.

He put his passcode in and looked at the text message. It was simple but cute to him, but also very needed.

You: Hi Leon, I heard you got back from your mission! Saving the president's daughter huh? Now that is pretty cool. I know you may be busy signing autographs or some idol stuff like that but maybe I could come over and you could tell me about it?

His eyes glistened over. He needed someone right now...

His fingers gently typed on his phone's keyboard and he replied

Leon: Yeah, no you can come over! 

He saw your little emoticon he had set as your contact profile photo type.

You: Ok! I'll be right over.

He smiled and turned off his phone. He put it on his nightstand and he laid back on his bed. He could feel the migraine setting in and he let out a groan. He grabbed his comforter and pulled it over him and he rested his head on his pillow. He fell asleep.

Soon enough he heard the front door to his apartment open and he smiled sleepily. He heard a coat being unzipped and placed up and then he heard the sound of shoes hitting the floor. Soft sounds of little steps were heard coming to his bedroom door.

Then you opened the door. You weren't wearing your shoes and you were in your socks. He watched as you walked over to him and looked at the injuries on his face.

He saw the worry in your eyes and he frowned slightly. He didn't want you upset or sad.

He sat up on his bed and opened the blanket. He saw your eyes travel down his body and towards his injuries. He saw your face contort into more worry. He saw you walk into his bathroom and grab the first aid supplies. 

You walked over to the bed and sat down on it. You started to put disinfectant on all of his cuts. He let out gasps and groans from the pain as he squeezed his eyes shut. you grabbed bandaids and put them on the smaller injuries before grabbing bandages and wrapping them around his bigger injuries. 

Toward the end of it, you were holding his injured hands in your own and bandaging them softly and carefully. His tired and sad blue eyes watched your hands move carefully to not hurt him. You gently finished bandaging his hand and you threw the paper stuff away before putting the first aid away.

This had become a routine. After every mission, you would come over and heal him slowly. Sometimes on simple missions, he would purposefully get hurt just so you would come over and bandage him and stay with him. He enjoyed your company, he enjoyed you being there with him.

You came back into the room and Leon looked at you with a soft, sleepy smile. "Thanks..you help me you know..? Every time you help me I always feel a bit safer and...I can't thank you enough"

His voice was soft and raspy as he spoke softly. He looked up at you and he moved over in his bed. He patted the spot next to him with an uncharacteristically sheepish smile.

You laughed slightly and a warm smile spread on your face as you sat next to him on the bed. He put the blanket over you. Usually, he was the big spoon but after missions, you always held him.

He needed reassurance and love. He needed the feeling of being wanted and cared for. He hated having to always be strong and he hated always making decisions. Lord knows he made enough already during his mission. He just needed someone to hold him...and listen to him..and let him cry.

You opened your arms and he put his head onto your chest. He could feel your hands gently scratching his scalp softly. He could feel your other hand gently massaging the sore muscles on his back and his stiff neck. He let out a small sigh.

He was too tired to cry now. He just wanted to rest and relax..and that is exactly what you let him do.

You were usually his rock after the missions. You were the reason he fought to come home alive. You were his reason for everything. 

And these moments solidified those thoughts, and that made them stronger every time.

His love for you was true...and he loved you a lot. That is one thing he knew he could count on. The simplicity of your love...your care...your everything.

His eyes softly closed as he could hear you softly humming. He always enjoyed your humming when he was tired and fragile. He could practically feel your concern. You were holding him like he was as fragile as a flower...as if one movement could break him. 

He could feel your warmth and love with every tender movement your hand made as they massaged his back. He could feel the kindness and care in every gentle, loving scratch that blessed his clean and soft scalp.

He could hear the sounds of the rain still pattering against his window like earlier and he had a soft hazy smile form on his tired, injured face as he slowly but peacefully fell into a trance.

His arms were gently placed around your waist. His breaths were soft against you. His chest was pressed against your side.

He could feel you press a soft kiss on his head. He could feel your head laying on his. The weight really grounded him and made sure he knew you were there and that he wasn't in Spain...and that he wasn't alone.

He felt the fatigue from the mission slowly catch up to him again. He could feel his legs relaxing first. Slowly but surely his body relaxed into his bed. The soft pattering of rain against the window, the wind gently blowing, the soft rumbling of thunder...and then the soft sounds of your sleepy hums or the sounds of your soft breathing...

Comfort filled him as he finally felt peace..as he finally felt comfort..and he let sleep carefully overtake him as his body, and mind went to rest...forgetting about his trauma, his stress, and his pain.

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. You get some rest now lovely, you need and deserve it🥰

[sparklingspite]

Character study of Jin from Road to Ruin by Hana Lee.

[fictionfawn]

to forgive or not to forgive

WRITTEN WITH MODERN AU IN MIND! angst-to-fluff, scara is scara so he's an ass at the beginning lol, spoiler for his real name. this was thrown together pretty quickly, so please forgive any errors or parts that may not make sense! LET SCARAMOUCHE SAY FUCK!!

As much as it may be surprising, you and Scaramouche actually don’t fight that often. Or seriously fight, at least. Most arguments are some form of bickering, something you and him have been accustomed to since the very beginning, even before your relationship. It was more like second nature to the two of you, and it was nothing hurtful. You know what he’s like, and he knows your boundaries and what not to press. 

This is by far one of the most worst arguments you’ve ever had, if not the worst. 

You don’t exactly remember how it started—maybe it was something he said, or something he did that rubbed you the wrong way. 

It started off with something small, something minutely small, and it got blown out of proportion. You can’t deny that you were at fault for some of it, too—things were tense and looking worse by the minute, and all you wanted was for it to stop. You were fine with continuing it some other day because you knew at some point you always come back to it. But, that didn’t happen.

What was so different about that day? Maybe you were both tired, maybe one of you was still holding a grudge from what was said before—whatever it was, you surely did not expect for it to lead to… this.

He’s poking and prodding at every single nerve he can find—taunting you, following you around and hovering by you like a scornful shadow as he speaks to you with a sneer, every word aimed to provoke.

“Why are you running away?” He jeers. “What, you started this and now you don’t even want to finish it? That’s just pathetic.” 

Every attempt at walking away from the argument comes to naught, urging you to come back and to face him because you were the one who brought it up, you were the one who started it, you were the one that just couldn’t let it go. 

Because, realistically, who is Scaramouche if not the world’s best projector?

And at some point finally, you’ve had enough. You turn around sharply, fuming and looking like you’re about to explode—your fists are clenched, your eyebrows are slightly furrowed and your gaze is cold and sharp—and yet, you don’t. 

No, when you turn around to face him, your rigid posture falters ever so slightly and you hesitate, no words leaving your mouth.

He isn’t speaking either, waiting for you to retaliate, waiting  for you to fight back the way he’s been trying to provoke you into doing. When you don’t, he scoffs, another jab resting on the tip of his tongue when you interrupt.

“I don’t think I—“ you pause, voice breaking off in the middle. “I can’t do this anymore.”

The way your voice cracks at the edges immediately reveals the feelings you’ve been trying to hide, the feelings you hid behind a steeled expression.

He notices.

He’s about to snap again, interrogate you, ask you why? What do you mean you can’t do this anymore? But, he never gets the chance. 

Instead, you turn your back to him, quickly gather your things (you didn’t even take everything. More than anything you were more focused on getting away from him. It would have been close to impossible, anyway—you leave traces of yourself everywhere) and walk out the door. 

As you do, you leave him with one last glance. The last look you send him betrays the air of nonchalance that you were trying to portray—he can see the hurt in your eyes, the subtle trembling of your shoulders and the stiff way you held open the door. 

Only when the door slams shut does he process the fact that you truly have left. 

Left to his own devices, Scaramouche stands by himself in silence, spare for the loud thudding of heavy rain. 

That’s strange. I swear it wasn’t raining before.

And unfortunately, he is left with his own very loud thoughts. In almost a robotic manner, he makes his way over to his sofa (it’s basically yours as well.) and takes off his hat, running a hand through his hair with a frustrated huff. 

As he sits by himself, he slowly comes to terms with what just happened (why did he overreact like that? Is he stupid?). It wasn’t even that big of a deal, he realises. And then he thinks about how hurt you looked and sounded, and the fact that he willingly ignored it.

The more he thinks about it, the more his guilt swallows him whole. What if that was the final straw for you? What if you couldn't handle being with him anymore?

He fucked up big time, he decides. And Archons forbid he doesn’t do anything about it. 

Scaramouche looks outside of the window and notices just how much time has passed by. It’s dark, and it’s still fucking pissing it down—seriously, why the fuck is it still raining?

Barely collecting his things, he stands up and rushes to the door, guilt swallowing him whole as he goes to look for you. 

The door creeks open and you pop your head out, only to see a very soggy Scaramouche, his hat long abandoned as if he had forgotten to even put it on in the first place. His lips are slightly parted as his chest noticeably rises up and down, his nose and cheeks are dusted with a light pink—hold on, did he run all the way over here? You don’t entertain the thought any further.

A few seconds pass by and no words are shared. As if sensing his hesitation, you frown. Reaching for the door, you turn your back on him, again, again, again…

“I’m sorry!” He blurts out, making you pause and turn ever so slightly to look at him again.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, a little less frantic and a little more controlled this time. “I fucked up. And I was a dick.”

He is only met with silence, but he knows you, and he knows that you’re hanging onto every word he’s saying, even though you both know that you don’t have to. You always listen. Maybe it’s something that he’s taken for granted.

“I never should have kept pushing you the way I did, I should have just left it alone, and I was being a moron, and I’m— sorry.” 

With every word, his pride seems to melt away more and more along with the rain, his words spilling out like an overflowing dam. He talks, he talks and he talks. (He’s always been somewhat of a blabber mouth, you suppose. He always has lots to say.) I’m sorry, you should be angry at me, you’d be an idiot not to be, et cetera.

“I said a lot of fucked up shit that I should have never even thought of saying, and I just—“ he pauses, his tone becoming considerably softer. “You know I didn’t mean any of it,” he says. “I never do.”

“Kunikuzushi,” you start—no stupid nickname, no stupid pet-name—and it stings more than he would like to admit. “You can’t just say all that stuff and expect me to forgive you immediately.” You say, and your tone is just as soft as his. “You… you really hurt me.”

“I know.” He replies, voice almost in a whisper. “I’ll make it up to you. I swear. Just—please…”  

His eyes are wide, and you can hear the desperation in his voice—he doesn’t say it aloud, but every part of him seems to be saying, please don’t leave me. I can’t lose you too.

You purse your lips and sigh, taking a step closer towards him while still holding open the door. “I’m sorry, too,” you say, guilt washing over you. “I was being an asshole to you as well.” 

He looks away from you, a shadow crossing over his face. “Yeah, well,” he mumbles. “We both know who the real asshole was today.”

You don’t say anything in return, but you catch the awkward glances he’s giving you. Tapping your fingers against your door, you hum.

“Alright,” you say, nodding to yourself slowly. “Okay.” You shuffle over to the side and away from the entrance, feeling amused when Scaramouche gives you a perplexed look.

“Well, aren’t you going to come in?” You ask with a snort, the sides of your mouth curving upwards into a little smile. “It’s kind of difficult to say no to you when you look like a sad little kitty cat on my front porch. You can dry yourself inside, you wouldn’t want to catch a cold, would you?”  

Ah, now this is more familiar.

After a brief moment of hesitation, Scaramouche huffs and walks past you and into your house. “I do not look like a ‘sad little kitty cat’—you’re ridiculous,” he scoffs. “And I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never get sick.”

You close the door behind you with a shrug before reaching over to play with his damp locks and ruffle his hair. “Believe whatever you want to believe.” You hum. 

“Whatever. You’re delusional.” 

“Sure. Come on, let’s go get you dried up. You’re dripping water everywhere.” Then, you add, “And take your shoes off. You’ll track in dirt.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He replies, leaning into your touch when you cup one of his soft cheeks, gingerly brushing your thumb against it.

“I know,” you say gently, brushing a few strands of his indigo hair away from his face and tucking it behind his ear. Then, you give him a shit-eating grin. “My dirty little street cat.”

He squawks with indignation, and you quickly dart away from him while cackling at the way he stumbles after you, sputtering ‘how-dare-yous’, his cheeks coloured with furious blush. 

After the two of you have had enough with throwing soggy towels at each other, the night ends with gentle caresses (and a couple of pinches, let’s be real) and softly spoken ‘I-love-yous’ while safely tucked in under warm blankets. 

And despite the heaviness of it all, Scaramouche feels lighter than ever before, and he knows that this must be the way things should be. He’d do anything to keep it this way, to hell with his pride. 

Scaramouche is, above all, grateful to you for the chances you give him. And he vows to never let you down again. 

[warmshotamilk]

I am more than willing to talk privately, but I’m not obligated to give you my main. If you want to talk without having that leverage over me you want so bad you can DM me here, on my other blog, or answer the asks publicly, but I’m not giving you my main and I don’t have to. I have about 12 of these btw. You aren’t getting rid of me

Quick questions: Why do you think me knowing your main would give me leverage over you? Aren't you just trying to ask a simple question? Why are you so willing to die on this hill of anonymity when my one and only request is that you stop being a coward and associate your main with your question? Why are you so opposed to asking your question on your main? Literally what is the problem with me saying "your question is disingenuous, ask off anon before I will take you seriously"?

Answer me these. If you do not answer these within your next ask then I am just going to block you again. I can keep blocking you. It's 12 clicks of a button :)

[agender-wolfie]

Y/N calls Simon Ghostie and everyone is flabbergasted as to how they get away with it except Price, Price knows. Ghost has a soft spot and it’s getting bigger by the day. But only Y/N can call him that. Soap tried it out once and got a death glare so bad it sent shivers down his spine. 💀

[benetnvsch]

WHOS READY FOR THE HOSPITAL SCENE IN DUB TODAY :DD!!?!?!?

[buffaluff]

in better news i got a new tattoo today

[calkale]

everyone be nice, i bring you a fic