#Even if it killed me a little to bring back habits that have been since dead

[neon1010]

Adding to the 'Nanako is a magical girl now' collectionnnnn

[sunonyoreface]

One Cot - Simon “Ghost” Riley

Hi there, this story is a one shot about Simon Riley. I haven’t played COD before and I don’t know much about his character, but I love the thought of tough men being soft.

Summary: You help Ghost on a cold night and he returns the favour.

Word count: 2398

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: none, fluff.

Crews like task force 141 aren’t the type to pack extra cots. They don’t need them. Because crews like 141 don’t make a habit of bringing home extra bodies. There’s only ever one scenario when they have extra cots. Luckily for them, tonight’s not one of those nights.

For me, however, that means another night on the floor with my ankle cuffed to the bottom of one of their cots in case I try to run.

 Although I’m deemed non-violent, I’m also a flight risk. According to them at least.

 According to me, I have no clue where we are or how I’d even survive away from them. I’ve got no money, no ID, no map or compass, or even the slightest clue how I’d escape. Regardless, the cuffs stay on.

 My wrists face the same fate. But my hands are free enough to rake them through my damp hair, working them through the tangles. It’s a soothing feeling of normalcy in this strange place.

 In his cot on the other side of the room, Soap waits for one of the other boys to return from the showers and trade off babysitting duty.

 One thing I can say is that chivalry is not dead, because they allowed me to shower first. Not that it matters all that much. There’s no hot water anyway so there isn’t much of a benefit in going first. But it’s the thought that counts.

 Ghost is the first one back. It’s strange not seeing him wear layers upon layers of tactical gear. Instead, he only wears dark jeans and a black henley. And the balaclava too. I’ve yet to see him take it off. I wouldn’t be surprised if he showered with it on. I don’t know that the other guys have seen him take it off either. They make comments sometimes, little jabs and jokes about how it never comes off. Ghost hardly notices though. Or maybe I should say hardly reacts. He’s stoic through it all, preventing any emotions from breaking through.

 Soap leaves without a word. They understand their positions. So well, that half the time I think they’re communicating through their thoughts.

 Ghost places a duffel bag on the cot I’m cuffed to. I sit cross-legged on a blanket on the floor as he ruffles through it.

 His strong form towers over me two feet away. Ghost doesn’t make eye contact as I watch him search through the bag. He’s less threatening without the bulky gear and a gun in his hand. But that mask is still terrifying enough to find its way into your dreams.

 However, it's not the mask that sets me on edge around Ghost, it’s his eyes. They’re cold and unwavering, giving away nothing. They’re the eyes of a killer. Of someone who enjoys inflicting pain. Of someone whose been in so much pain himself, his only release is passing it on to others.

 He hasn’t bothered me that much since my first day with them all. Back when he was ready to put me down like a lame horse. I was a loose end that needed to be tied up. Still am, if I’m being honest. Price stopped him, but if it was up to Ghost, I’d have been dead for days now. Even now, I’m sure part of him wants to kill me knowing it’s the more logical option. But until then, he’s under orders to keep me alive.

 “Anyone ever tell you that you’ve got a staring problem?” His rough voice breaks the silence. He rarely acknowledges me so for him to speak up must mean I’ve struck a nerve. My mouth suddenly feels dry.

 “Just you,” I say. “Sorry.”

 But I don’t look away. I continue to watch him search through the bag. I don’t know what he’s looking for but he can’t seem to find it. The tight sleeves of the Henley hug his strong arms. Even through the fabric, I can see the defined lines of his muscles. His posture is nearly perfect and his movements could almost be considered robotic.

 “What’re you looking for?” He doesn’t seem like the type of person to misplace his things.

 “Nothing,” he responds bluntly.

 “Maybe it fell behind the cot. I can check for you?” I offer.

 “Negative.”

 “Are you sure beca-“

 “Stop talking, y/n,” he snaps. I flinch at his response. As he says this he finally makes eye contact with me and I regret ever looking at him. There’s an anger in his eyes that no man I’ve ever met has been able to match. A deep-rooted hatred for the world and all of its inhabitants. It’s not a look that you’re born with. It’s one that’s carved from years of pain and betrayal. He’s witnessed the type of things that would break most people. The intensity of his gaze is too much. I break eye contact to stare at the floor.

 Fine. I won’t try to help.

 I lean against the cement wall and try to think about anything else. I press my hands to the inside of my thighs in an attempt to warm them up.

 When they found me I was only in ripped shorts and a ratty tank top with nothing else to my name.

 Since then some of the men spared me a set of long johns, a long sleeve shirt, and a pair of thick socks. I’m not allowed shoes in case I try and take off. It’s better than what I had but the warehouse is cold and the cement floor seems to suck out any heat my body produces.

 Ghost angrily zips up the duffel bag and tosses it on the floor at the other end of the cot. I watch the bag skid for a foot before finally coming to a stop.

 He climbs onto the cot with a dissatisfied grunt. Ghost sleeps with his head on the far side of the cot and his feet at the end I’m cuffed to. He doesn’t take his shoes off. None of them do. In fact, I’m surprised he isn’t sleeping with more gear on. Some days they’ll all sleep in their tactical gear as if they’re waiting to be attacked. Part of me is relieved they don’t feel as though that’s a threat tonight.

 I can hear voices echo down the halls. Some of the others must be done in the showers.

 I lie down on my makeshift bed: a pillow and a blanket that I fold in half to act as a mattress and duvet.

 When I lie down, however, something shiny catches my eye under Ghost’s cot.

 It’s a tiny chain. A necklace.

 On my hands and knees, I crawl under his cot to grab the necklace.

 “What’re you doing?” Ghost mumbles above me. I hear him shift his weight against the rough canvas fabric.

 When I back out from under the cot, he’s sitting with his legs off the edge. Suspiciously eyeing my movements. His right hand is in one of his pant pockets probably wrapped around a knife in case I try something.

 I kneel in front of the bed beside his legs. My damp hair clings to my neck and the tip of my nose is red and cold.

 I raise the chain up to Ghost. His eyes latch on immediately.

 “Is this it?” I ask. He eyes me suspiciously. I see him searching for any signs of deceit. Maybe I lied to him and hid the chain from him. Maybe I pickpocketed him before he went to shower. But I didn’t do any of those things. I hold his eye contact this time. His brows soften ever so slightly. It seems to be enough.

 Ghost doesn’t say anything. Instead, he simply grabs the chain from my hand. His fingers brush against my palm as he scoops it up. He examines it a moment before slipping it over his neck and tucking it under his shirt.

 I don’t know why but I was hoping for a thank you. Or at least an acknowledgment that I’d helped. But Ghost remains silent. At the same time, the voices reach the room. Roach and Gaz round the corner from the hallway.

 At their entrance, I turn back to my makeshift bed and pretend to sleep. It’s not that I don’t like them - although I don’t, in fact, I don’t like any of them - but I don’t have the energy for more questions from them tonight.

 I hear Ghost shift in his cot and it seems our thoughts are on the same track.

 As hard as I try, sleep doesn’t come. They shut off the main lights over an hour ago, yet I still haven’t calmed down enough to drift off. It doesn’t help that I can’t stop shivering from the cold.

 The warehouse remains utterly silent except for the light snores and breathing of the men. Only the emergency lights fill the corners of the room with dim, orange light. They’re almost comforting in a way.

 I pull the single blanket tighter around my shoulders and ball up even smaller if that’s possible, but nothing helps. My bones shake and my teeth rattle. If only I had another blanket.

 The cot next to me creaks as Ghost shifts in his sleep. It creaks some more and then I notice he’s sitting up.

 Ghost spares a glance in my direction as he rummages through his pocket for something.

 Something silver glints in the light and I realize it’s a key. He wordlessly tosses it in my direction and by some stroke of luck, I catch it mid-air.

 It’s the key to the cuffs. I spare an uneasy glance in his direction. He wants me to uncuff myself?

 Ghost doesn’t react. Instead, he watches as I process my thoughts, as I push through my weariness and unlock my ankles first before freeing my wrists.

 I reach to pass the key back to him but instead of grabbing the key, his large hand wraps completely around my wrist and tugs me in close.

 I’m face to face with him as his other hand wraps around my jaw so I can’t pull away.

 “If you try to run, I’ll kill you,” his low voice is barely above a whisper. The edge to his tone makes the threat feel all the more real.

 “Okay,” I nod in response. My heart is racing and I feel the blood rush to my cheeks.

 “Come here. Bring your blanket,” he motions to the cot. I spare a glance at the narrow bed. Surely he doesn’t want to share it with me? There’s barely enough room for one person let alone two.

 “I don’t know,” I whisper back as though it’s an option. I don’t know where he’s going with this suggestion and I don’t think I trust him.

 “That’s an order, y/n,” his response does nothing to ease my soul, but I grab my blanket anyway and crawl onto the cot.

 It’s now he notices my hesitancy. How I purposely leave space between us on the bed. That I’m unsure of why he wants me up here. The fogginess of his intentions.

 “I can't sleep with the sound of your teeth rattling in my ears all night,” nothing changes in my expression so he tries again, his tone softer this time. “You’re safe, y/n. I’m safe. Nothing’s going to happen.”

 I sigh in relief but don’t say anything in response. He knows.

 “C’mere,” he lifts the blanket for me to slide in. The warmth immediately welcomes me into the space.

 The cot is more narrow than a twin mattress and leaves little to no wiggle room for two people. I’m pressed tightly into Ghost's chest as his arm wraps around my waist, pulling me closer and preventing me from falling off.

 I thought I’d be tense but the heat under the blankets completely relaxes me. I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck. His balaclava is soft against my cheek. I hear his breathing pick start to pick up. I can feel his chest expand deeper than before.

 “Thank you,” my voice is barely audible, but I know he heard.

 As I adjust to our proximity, I breathe in the scents that linger on his skin and in his clothes. I can smell the same standard citrusy shampoo on him as myself and the rest of the crew use. But there’s also a remainder of smoke and gunpowder from the day’s work. There’s something else more unique to him and yet I can’t put my finger on it. I take a deep breath and allow myself to revel in the calming smells. This shouldn’t be comforting and yet it is.

 Nothing about this situation should be comforting and yet I feel safer than I have in weeks.

 Wrapped in Ghost's arms, I know nothing else in the world can get to me. My only danger is the man who holds me. Yet I know in this instance after he’s sacrificed his space and his bed for me, that I’ve got nothing to worry about.

 Ghost shifts against the canvas again. This time pulling me on top of him as he spreads out across his cot. He wraps his arms around my back he readjusts for the final time. I feel so small on top of him. Ghost spreads a hand out across my lower back and it feels as though it takes up the entire width of the space. His thumb soothingly brushes back and forth along the arch of my spine.

 I lay my head on his chest and listen to the thrum of his heart. It beats strong and steady like a bass drum. I feel myself relaxing even more as my breathing starts to match his. I feel myself start to drift as my head lulls with his chest when it rises and falls.

 For the first time in a long time, I don’t worry about what tomorrow brings. I’m so content in his arms that I don’t think about what’s next. All that fills my mind is the strength of his heartbeat and the distant scent of gunpowder. The last thing I think about before finally nodding off is the feeling of his thumb brushing up and down along my back, letting me know everything is going to be alright.

Edit+A/N: I have never received this much attention on a story before so thank you!! When I have time should I write more for Ghost?

Fic based on this concept:

[ilovehugslikealotalot]

This is Her Trying

sum: she sold out every value she holds dear, even a person. That happens to be you. So, one night after Voit’s little game, she speeds to your apartment in hopes you’ll still want her.

(is there a lot of music references? Yes.)

WARNING: BIG ANGSTY, smoking, some fluff?

Emily saw this coming, with the way everything was happening. The BAU hadn’t taken up a case they couldn’t solve, it just seems that now they’ve met their match. Emily didn’t want it to be true, no, she just couldn’t accept that. She was too prideful to give up.

That also meant doing everything in her power to solve this case, even if it meant pushing the boundaries of the law. She hated that she even considered doing it, so why do it at all? That was a question she asked herself often. Sometimes she sat in her chair wondering if Hotch would be disappointed in her. Or if he would tell her that she ‘needn’t worry’ even though she should.

In the midst of all this ‘Gold Star’ business happening, she was also pushing you away. Not noticing the hurt facial expression you made at her clearly not wanting your presence. She pushed you away so much that she had forgotten how much peace you’d bring her. Even Rossi had warned her to go home but she never did listen, she did what she thought was best. But sometimes she couldn’t think for herself.

—

“Shouldn’t you head home to see the Mrs?” Rossi asked, driving them back after Emily had gotten arrested. The truth was, she wanted to go home, she was just too scared that you too would be disappointed in her, and she’d rather not have the person she loved the most think ill of her. “She knows I’m out, it’s fine..” The silver-haired woman grumbled, picking at her thumb nail again. Someday she’d get over the whole thumb thing but now was not the time. All that she was focused on was Brian Garrity being on the top of her list to be killed off if she ever did spiral into madness; which she was already on the brink of.

Dave looked at her with this face, it was his ‘I know you better than you think, please don’t lie to me right now’ face. Emily huffed, groaning as she flopped her head into her hands. “It’s been almost a week and a half, Emily. A hello or hug would suffice” He tutted, even after all these years he still had to teach her fatherly advice.

“She’ll survive, Dave, she’s not going anywhere” Emily seethed, her emotions slightly breaking loose, the Italian took note of her behavior. As he pulled back into the parking lot, he stopped the engine, turning to look at her with a soft expression.

“If I’ve learned anything from my marriages is, never make them wait for you. Because the hardest feeling is choosing whether to wait or give up” He says, exiting the car first to let Emily think.

—

The Unit Chief sat on the rooftop again, the cigarette she was smoking, balanced between her fingers. She only smoked when she was really stressed, that seemed to be almost every day now. You had told her to stop smoking but, old habits die hard.

Ever since that call she had about being on restricted duty she felt like she was completely under the water, she couldn’t breathe. The feeling on being dragged down over and over again was starting to get to her. This definitely wasn’t her first rodeo but it was starting to feel like her last. She kept telling herself to keep pushing and they’d solve this but maybe, for once, they’ve gotten a case they won’t figure out.

The BAU was crumbling around them, the public was already trampling on the name. But if they didn’t figure this out, what was the point of anything? What was the point of all this work if she couldn’t even save herself?

How could she protect her team when her choices were the ones hurting them? She’d been dying inside since Bailey’s death. She couldn’t give up now, she had to figure this out so he didn’t die in vain. But she wanted to give up, it was so much easier to lay down and die.

This isn’t how she imagined she’d end up. A broken marriage, at least she thought so, a broken team, a broken case, everything was tumbling down and she didn’t have the energy to build them back up anymore. She always wondered how some people could die with so much happiness accepting that they didn’t do everything they wanted to. That was one of the qualities that made you fall for her.

She didn’t stop till she got what she wanted. That’s how you agreed to go on one date with her. She was insistent that she was the one for you. At first you didn’t want to, not wanting to be with someone so ambitious since it could end badly, later she showed you that you were the only one she wanted.

Letting out a shaking breath, Emily looked below, the who-ing of the owls seemed to be her only company that night. The stars were shining above her, she was jealous of them. How could they live so peacefully without worry. They were taunting her with their beauty.

Almost like the first time you and her met. She smiled at the memory, her time of youth escaped her but she never seemed to forget it.

~~

You were one of Garcia‘s friends, she met you during one of her baking lessons, and got to know you during one of her cooking lessons. You were skilled in both, your nimble fingers kneading the dough, your hands holding the sharp knife as you made precise cuts on the vegetables.

Emily could’ve never been prepared for the day you’d given Penelope a visit at work. She practically choked on her coffee the moment you walked in. You were stunning, your eyes soft like the morning rain, your face free from blemishes and impurities, even your hands looked extremely agile. Your presence alone cast an ethereal radiance around the room. “Hi, I’m Y/n Y/l/n, it’s nice to meet you…?”

Your brow arched, signaling her to introduce herself, Emily quickly stumbled to her feet with a goofy smile. She was enchanted by your shining grin. Internally, she was panicking so bad she couldn’t even think about what comes out of her mouth next, she was too busy staring at your tits.

“Prentits, Emily” she said a little too confidently, she slapped a hand over her mouth as Morgan barrel rolled on the floor in laughter. Rossi, JJ, and Penelope were snickering in the background. Hotch and Reid stood with shocked expressions, for once, Aaron had cracked a smile.

”I’m sorry! I meant Emily Prentiss, it’s nice to meet you as well” her voice got more silent with each word, the red hue over taking her face. You laughed, “it’s okay, Emily,” you leaned into her ear, “but next time just ask to look at them.”

~~

Emily snorted to herself, still looking into the dark nothingness below her. A soft chuckle escaped her, even the darkness seemed more peaceful than whatever she had going on. In those few minutes that she had stared into the oblivion, she realized, it wasn’t too late to fix things. At least with you anyway, she just hoped that you’d still want her after everything she had put you through.

The guilt of leaving you alone for so long clawed at her. As she now hurried down the halls, she thought of you. That smile that could make her melt, the laugh that could infect anybody, and those arms that held her close when no one understood her.

Even in the car, the first thing that played was your favorite song. She slammed her fist against the console, the pain was agonizing but that was the least of her problems. Her fingers gripped around the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white and cramped. As she speeded home, she realized that she dearly missed your lips. Your soft, delicate, and loving lips. Even the first time the both of you had said you loved each other, she knew that you were gonna kiss her in a way that was gonna screw her up forever.

At the door of your shared house, she felt a sinking feeling in her chest, her hands turned clammy. It was like she was sent back to when she was ask you out on a date again. Except this time she was asking for your forgiveness.

She brought out her house keys, unlocked the door, and stepped in. The inside was still dimly lit so she knew you were awake, probably staying up late again. “Baby? I’m home!” Emily called out, shutting the door behind her, making sure to lock it before venturing deeper into the home. She heard shuffling from upstairs, it stopped for a moment before the sound of your footsteps made their way down. She was nervous, the smell of smoke on her clothes. It stood out from the scent of the rest of the house.

It smelt of you and your soft smelling vanilla perfume. You smiled seeing her, though the emotions in you remained conflicted. “Em, you’re home, I thought you were gonna be working late again” You chuckled lightly, nothing was funny. She messed up and you knew it, she knew it. So, why couldn’t you just go ahead and scream your feelings out. That’s what you wanted to do days ago, but not now that you see her face…you don’t feel so angry anymore.

“No, I needed to come home. I needed to see you, I’m-” Emily abruptly stopped her sentence to swallow the sound of her breaking voice, she never minded being emotional in front of you. Now, she couldn’t bear to cry in front of you. She felt she didn’t deserve to, you’re the victim here, after all. It was selfish to take that away from you. She was selfish. That’s all she had been for weeks now.

“I’m going insane, y/n. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, I’m not alright.” She admitted it, she was scared and confused. She felt like some little kid in the corner after doing something bad and not knowing it was. She didn’t know how to cope with any of this. It was too big to do alone. She couldn’t ask you to help her, not when she’s already taken so much from you.

As Emily’s eyes began to sting, the tears pooling. Yet, she didn’t let them fall. She couldn’t, it wasn’t right. “You smell like smoke again, what happened this time?” You asked, brushing past her and walking into the kitchen. You fixed Emily a glass of cold water, “I messed up some case, I’m on restricted duty. The BAU is Dave’s now. I don’t know what I’m gonna do.” She said through a shaky sigh, leaning on the kitchen island, the marble cold to the touch. You were slightly shocked that she would actually tell you, most of the time she wouldn’t tell you anything. You understood that even knowing a little bit could endanger you both so you never pressed. “Have you eaten?”

Emily crossed her arms, sniffling and looking at her with a blank expression. You knew that look, she was trying to profile you. “Emily, if you’re trying to profile me, it’s not gonna work.” You said sternly, getting the ingredients out for beef and broccoli, one of her favorites.

“Okay, I’m sorry…” she replied, biting her lip. “No, I haven’t” she added after a moment of silence. You smiled to yourself, “Good, I haven’t had dinner yet”

The silence was oddly comfortable, it gave Emily a sense of false comfort. She watched you cook as she idly played with her fingers. You could’ve called it a night ages ago and gone to bed not talking to her at all. Instead, you chose to stay and make food. You always stayed silent when you were mad, you came from a home with screaming being the norm. You hated yelling at someone out of anger, you hated it with your heart and soul. Even now if someone yells at you in anger, the tears will pool and won’t stop streaming down your face. Your breathing turns shallow and the tightness in your chest the least of your concerns.

As you finished cooking the food, the steam drifted into the air, eventually filling up the whole kitchen. Both of you quickly ate the food, silently glancing at each ofher when the other ‘wasn’t’ looking. Emily didn’t know what to say, and you didn’t want to say anything.

The older woman went upstairs to change, and hopefully get a shower. It had been a few days since she’s had a good shower. One where she felt relaxed and fresh. You washed the dishes, humming to yourself as you thought about the situiation you were in. You wanted so badly to be angry with her but, there was something that kept you from feeling anything about what was happening. Your face would contort into an expression of anger but you didn’t feel it.

You completed the rest of the cleaning and headed upstairs, maybe you’d be able to get a good sleep tonight. You always slept best with Emily in bed with you, she just gave you a sense of comfort that no one else could give you.

Already in some pjs, you brushed your teeth and washed your face. With a heavy sigh, you pulled your body up to sit on the counter. You had grabbed your phone, scrolling on social media as you flossed with a floss pick. You heard the shower stop but you didn’t look up, too interested in a News article you read. It was an article about ‘Gold Star’. A case Emily was on, he was clearly dangerous and had already killed the spouse of one of his latest victims who was also a cop. That must’ve been why she’s been down at the office, at least, that’s what you heard from Pen.

“Damn it…” Emily muttered, pulling a silk robe over her thin pjs. Her hair was soaking wet, and her face free of makeup, she was looking for something. “Have you seen my towel?” She asked, looking at the rack then back inside the shower. You looked down and saw you were sitting on it, lifting a thigh, you grabbed it and handed it to her.

She smiled at you, drying her silver locks with the towel. Walking over to the sink, she began doing her skincare routine. You stared at her, a blank expression on your face, she looked so focused.

You felt the urge to reach out and touch her face when she finished, she looked like a supermodel in this light. I’m any light actually, she was a timeless beauty you couldn’t get enough of. That was when you felt it, the subtle shake of your hands, the sting of your eyes, the flips of your stomach, the drowning feeling, and the way you bit the inside of your cheek.

Emily looked at herself in the mirror before looking over at you with concern, your eyes filled with hurt. She hummed softly, placing a hand on yours, squeezing it as a way to ground you. “I love you, Emily Prentiss…so much that you piss me off,” You said with a hushed tone, as if you’d be scolded for speaking normally.

“I love you more, my precious girl” Emily kissed each of your knuckles, kissing up your arm as she moved to slip herself in between your legs. She eventually got up to kiss your lips, it was quick, a big dose of comfort, for Emily at least.

“Don’t say things that aren’t true…” You insisted, placing your hands on her shoulders, the robe damp from her wet hair. “You left me, for almost a whole week and a half with minimal to no contact, you didn’t even check in with me so I knew you were alive and breathing.”

Emily looked down in shame, she wished to take it all back. “I had to hold on to the hope that you were okay, and I had to get updates from the team, who you never seem to interact with anyway.” You sniffled, toying with her hair. “I know about this whole ‘Gold Star’ thing. The information went public, most of it anyway. So, please tell me what’s bothering you. Please…” You admitted, holding her face so she would look at you.

“Baby, Gold Star…he’s a dangerous man, after what happened with Don Bertoli” she paused, wiping her tears away, refusing to let them fall. She’s been doing that often now, you noticed since she was always comfortable crying around you. “I couldn’t handle you living in fear, I couldn’t handle us living in fear. A part of it was because I was so focused on this case, I hardly thought about anything else other than the case, and you. I know that sounds weird but, every decision I made was made because I thought I could protect you.” She kissed your palm, looking at you with the same adoration and love she had been for years, “If Don, this big muscular man, can’t stop him from killing his wife. How can I stop him?” She sobbed, hugging you close.

“Ever since this case even started, I changed so much. I hate it. I let a serial killer out of his cage to work among profilers like he meant something. I kept a secret from JJ that I shouldn’t have, I ruled over my team like a tyrant instead of working with them. I’m…turning into my mother, just like I thought I would. But the only question I have is…why haven’t you left me yet?” Emily sniffled, tears stains on your sleep attire. You pulled away from the hug and held her head, wiping away the tears with your thumbs.

She looked so fragile, like could crack of you touched her. You rarely saw her break, Emily was always the strong one even in the relationship. She took pride in opening jars, carrying bags, doing any sort of lifting. She also compartmentalized like her life depended on it because it kind of did.

”You are not going to be like your mother, you are my wonderful, amazing, ambitious, smart, hilarious, stunning, annoying wife. You’re my everything in one and I love you for it. I haven’t left you because I made a very important promise to be yours forever. I intend to keep that promise, no matter what. Also, last time I checked, you have the most awesome team. So, if you fess up and take responsibility, they’ll accept you. Remember that you have to earn that trust back but, I know you care.” Emily let out a choked sob, she loved you more than anything. What did she do to deserve you?

“When you were gone that long, I didn’t mind that much. Until you stopped texting me back, I didn’t hear from you for days. I panicked, thinking you were mad and I spiraled, every possible out come in my head played out beside for this” You said, tucking a piece of damp hair behind her ear.

“What I mean is, I’m not going to tell you that this was okay, what I am gonna tell you is that I love you despite what happened.” You pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead, she was hurting, you could tell from her face and mannerisms. You felt like you had spent a whole lifetime memorizing everything about her. Sometimes, it scared you. You knew things about her that even her team didn’t know, for you knew they’d never know.

With that, Emily burst into tears, hugging you tightly, pulling you as close to her as she could.

You’ve missed her dearly, nothing in existence or nonexistent could keep you from loving her. You feel every emotion at once yet none could rival the pure love you felt for the woman. She’s gone through hell & earth to have you. Now, you were ready to do the same for her.

She’s saved you from a maniac serial killer once, the least you could do was be here when you needed her. You knew she’d return the favor, you preferred to have her be alright before returning anything. After all, you taught middle schoolers for a living, you had your moments but thankfully there was never anything much.

“I’m sorry, so, so sorry” She sobbed, her head buried in between the crevice between your neck and shoulder. Her body slotted so perfectly with yours that you were convinced she was made for you. “I forgive you, always”

You felt her arms tighten around you, she sniffled looking up into your eyes. Pressing a kiss to your lips, she played with your hair, twirling it between her fingers.

She didn’t know what was waiting for her in the future, she was unsure of a lot of things. One thing was certain, that you were hers, and she was yours. She’d find a way to cross realities if it meant being with you.

As the night went on, both felt as though they could stay their forever. Intertwined. Sewn together. Forevermore.

—————

UHM. THIS WAS IN MY DRAFTS FOR A WHILE.

This is a nice appetizer for all the fics I’m about to serve to you guysssss. I hope you enjoyed restricted duty Emily :)

[mimimui]

comma after dearest (genshin impact)

wherein (character) reacts a certain way to a grammar mistake you made in your letter (or was it?)

includes: kazuha, ayato, thoma, xiao, zhongli, alhaitham, kaveh, scaramouche

tags: a bit unserious writing, fluff, i am obssessed with "it changed the meaning, did you intend this?" forgive me, not proofread

a/n: not sure if anyone's done this before, but take it as my apology for not having written in a while (╥﹏╥) my fever + colds are killing me & i have a lot of scheduled things to do for school aaaa. maybe i can write this with other fandoms as well ? (and character x character ships hehe) .. enjoy !

kazuha notices it immediately. aside from all the work with the fleet, he spends time reading—or rereading—your letters. written messages aren't uncommon when he's at sea, but this letter was different. had you made a mistake with your punctuation? no, it can't be, you've always opened your letters with "my dearest kazuha".

he blinked at the words, now seeing a comma between the word 'dearest' and his name. as much as he was confused, he was flustered. if this wasn't a mistake, and that you intentionally called him your dearest, then it's a shame you can't see how absolutely smitten he is for you right now.

ayato is busy going through papers and folders when he sees an envelope slide under his door. he chuckles as he reads his name in your writing, carefully picking it up and opening it. you have a habit of writing him letters and sliding it under his door while he works, which ayato finds very endearing.

when he reads "my dearest, ayato", his smile only widens more, finding new motivation to finish his assignments for the day so he can get to you as soon as possible. he knows how much effort you put into writing these short, yet loving, letters when he places this one on his (already full of other letters) pinboard.

thoma takes a while to realize, but when he finally notices it, his heart rate increases by a concerning amount. he loves you so much to the point that when he reads "my dearest, thoma", there's hearts in his eyes. thoma's so much happier after reading your letter, and now he's doing everything smiling.

ayaka told him he looks brighter than usual today, and ayato even asked him if he received good news. of course, he was shy about this, but he told the kamisato siblings it was nothing to worry about. though, he continues to do his work with a little bounce in step.

xiao denies it. he thinks he's read it wrong at first, but when he looks over at it again, it is confirmed that you did write him as your dearest. forgetting about the rest of the contents of the letter, xiao began to contemplate. an error like that was unlikely, especially since you're fond of writing.

the next time you meet, he has a hard time trying to bring up the topic. he knows you meant what you wrote, but he wants you to confirm it. when you tell him, "yes, i mean it." he tries to hold back a smile. keyword: tries.

zhongli adores the salutation. or rather, he adores you. he appreciates the sweet, small detail you added in. zhongli hurriedly, yet carefully, writes you a letter back, addressing you as "my dearest, (y/n)" and replying to the contents you had in yours.

he never really indulged in using endearments, but ever since your letter, he's only even been calling you his 'dearest'. when greeting you, when asking for your attention, when talking about you, whenever. zhongli's never said it outloud, but you know he absolutely loves that nickname now.

alhaitham is amused. he thinks you genuinely made a mistake in your letter, but doesn't address it until he returns to sumeru. when you see him again, he brings it up, expecting to be able to playfully taunt you about it. but he was so wrong.

"but you're my dearest. how is that wrong grammar?" you say, turning the situation around and teasing him instead. alhaitham wanted to tease you so much that he didn't bother to think of other possibilities. he's defeated, and all he can say is, "...i have no reply."

kaveh doesn't know how to react to it. should he be flustered, or correcting you for the mistake? was it even a mistake? he does write you a letter back, but best believe he immediately asks you about it as soon as he comes back home. "did you intend this?" he says, showing you your letter.

when you nod your head, all the shyness and blush that should've came in before came in now. kaveh uses the folded letter to cover his smile, but it's too wide and too bright to even try to. when you tease him about it, he strongly denies having his heart race from it.

scaramouche chooses to ignore it. he knows you wrote that punctuation on purpose, but he doesn't want show that he's thinking about it. this ultimately failed when he doesn't write you back, and you knew something was up with him. once he returns and he acts indifferent, you bring it up.

his eyes widen as he looks away, realizing he forgot to reply to that letter. scaramouche hesitates before quietly apologizing, mumbling something about 'my dearest' and 'running out of paper'.

thanks for reading (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[jeansllvr]

— Show Me Off

+ streamer!kenma x fem!reader

summary: after keeping your relationship with kenma a secret for over 3 years, you both think it's time to announce the news.

notes: this was longer than I intended to be my bad 💀, I only know a few games MAX so I'm tryna work on that, this was my first time writing/publishing my writing works so please bear with me on that 🙏🏾

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

When you first started dating Kenma you had absolutely no idea he was a famous streamer. His first time bringing it up was 7 months into your relationship.

"Kenma what do you want to eat?" You said making your way from the kitchen to the master bedroom, pausing in the door frame. "I was thinking alfredo pasta with baked chicken but I'm done for whatever."

"That sounds fine my love, anything you make is gonna be delicious anyways." He said, looking up from his phone to shoot you a smile.

You smiled and made a 'hum' sound as you walked back out.

After you took out the ingredients you also took out your phone and made your way to youtube.

You had a habit of turning on one of your favorite streamers/artists whenever you needed to get work done because somehow, it always made working much faster.

As you were scrolling through the recommended page, you noticed Kenma in one of the videos thumbnail. Letting curiosity kill the cat, you pressed on the video to see what it was about.

And as much to your surprise, your boyfriend of 7 months, was streaming to over 1 million people. Even if this video was old it still blew your mind how you never noticed your boyfriend was a damn streamer.

Setting your phone down you head back into the master bedroom, to have your boyfriend confess to his sins.

"So... You just weren't gonna tell me about you being a famous influencer?"

Looking up from his phone, Kenma took a while to really understand what you meant. "What are you- Oh.. Yeah, my bad."

"My bad? You kept this little secret off yours for 7 months and all I get is a 'my bad'". Your voice getting a bit more high-pitched at the end to mock Kenma.

He chuckled a bit before saying, "I honestly forgot to tell you, my love. I didn't really think it mattered that much."

"I mean it doesn't.. but it would have been nice to know."

He got up from his side of the bed, making his way towards you. When he reached you, he snaked his hands around your waist before kissing you.

"Sorry, I'll let you know next time."

Even though your eyes rolled to appear annoyed, the smirk on your face said otherwise. "Yeah, yeah, whatever.

୨⎯ Present Day⎯୧

"I think I'm ready." Was the first thing that was said by you as you were on Kenma's lap.

Pausing the CoryxKenshin video playing on the tv, he looks down at you, "For what exactly?"

"To announce I'm your girlfriend to your followers."

That topic wasn't brought up so often, after you found out about Kenma's career, he made sure that nobody would know of you if that's what made you comfortable.

It wasn't that you were uncomfortable with the attention, it's just that you weren't really used to it and you decided you needed to warm up to it step by step.

Kenma, understanding it all too well, agreed with you that nobody had to know until you were 100% ready.

Guess that today was that day.

"You sure? Like 100% sure? Don't work yourself up if you're not ready, baby."

"Don't worry I'm not! I do think I'm ready and besides, it can't be a secret for long. We're already 3 years into our relationship and nobody but close friends and family know." You said, sitting up so you two could be eye to eye.

"True," He gave you a quick peck on the lips. "Then we'll do it tomorrow, since I was already planning on streaming that new game."

You simply nodded your head, going right back to resting position on his lap, as the video plays once more.

୨⎯ The Next Day⎯୧

"Stay off to the side until I announce you okay my love?"

"A demanding man today I see." Sarcasm lacing your voice, as you started poking him.

Even though he shook his head and rolled his eyes, you could still see the sly smirk spread across his face. "Oh whatever menace."

Your laughing started to cease as you saw he had started the stream, now it was time to get quiet.

It took a few minutes but eventually more and more people started joining the stream. You were still taken aback by just how many people there were watching him, watching you.

To get your mind off of that though, you decided to read the comments off screen.

@gloharchive: heyyy kenma!!

@plazafolres: watching this stream > studying

@kenmasear: HEYYY

@shoyosunshine: WHAT ARE WE PLAYING TODAY KENMA??

You hear light chuckling next to you, turning you see Kenma also reading the comments.

"Hey to you all. Donations already? Thank y'all so much."

You looked down towards his right hand, he must have taken your hand into his while you were lost reading the comments. You gently traced your thumb up and down his pointer finger before looking up again—as he began to talk once more.

"Yeah we're gonna be playing that new Amanda the Adventurer game. Alot of y'all on twitter have been bugging me about it since it came out." He used his left hand to go to the game's home-screen.

@kenmakozime: WE ALL CHEERED!

@cupipetals: y'all think he's gonna be scared shitless??

@ivanghw: @cuoipetals oh most deff

"But before that.. uh I have some news for y'all," He turned towards you, using his eyes to ask one final time 'are you sure?'

You thought about it for an amount before looking back up to face him and with a sharp nod pushing all those worries down to focus on the now, focus on the fact that people will finally know who Kenma Kozume belongs to.

He smiled once more before turning back to the camera, checking one more time before announcing it.

@kenmasoneandonly: announcement??? getting kinda nervous

@miyatwins_lover: TELL US TELL US TELL US TELL US!!!

@kenmaluvrr: are you filming with shoyo or kuroo???

@ivan: STOP READING AND TELL US? HELLO?

"Alright. Alright. I'll tell y'all now, you demons." Pulling your hand into the camera's view, he kisses it while maintaining eye contact.

You break it by going to read the comments again, noticing how fast they're going than before.

@kenmasoneandonly: WTF?? WTF WHO IS THAT???

@meg_megan: DAMN.

@ricooyat: HUH?? KENMA PULLS??

Before you could look at him again, he pulls you onto his lap so the stream can see your face. You weren't expecting it so you flash a quick and awkward smile.

"Hey.. y'all." Stiffly waving towards the camera.

"Go easy on her guys, she's a lil camera shy." Kenma says with a straight teasing tone as he pokes your back.

You manage to hit his shoulder. "Stop your dork, at least lemme introduce myself first." Playfully rolling your eyes, "So inconsiderate."

"Oh my apologies your highness."

"Thank you," Whipping your hair in his face, "Anyways, hello! I'm Y/n, nice to finally meet y'all."

You began to read the comments again.

@SCORPIOGEMS: AHHH OMG SHE'S SO PRETTY??

@kenmaslefttoe: congratulations! (I'm dying right now)

@hshramint: do y'all see the cute banter they do?? I can't.

@meganthestallionshorse: AWHH WHAT

@hannisdrops: stop she's actually so freaking cute I need her socials

@kenmaslove: Y/N I'M ON MY KNEES WAIT.

Kenma let you read as many as you wanted before starting the game, you gave the occasional 'thank you's and flirty replies back. You started to forget the worries you had about coming on stream.

You found the comments amusing and Kenma's reaction to the flirty ones made you bust into a fit of laughter.

After answering some questions about you and your relationship with Kenma, you made sure to give everybody your socials before deciding it was time to leave and let Kenma do his own thing.

"I'll be in the living room if you need me."

"Alright my love, I love you." He reached his hand out to your chin, guiding you to his lips and you shared a tender kiss.

"I love you more."

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

[hellishgayliath]

Clem’s Log

Hi big brother. Today’s March 10th I think? I’m not so great at remembering dates but Papa was dead set on it because that’s your birthday, it’s amazing how he’s able to remember stuff like that after all this time.

I know it’s been a while since we talked, ever since you left I had to take over bird scout duties and just never had the time to sit down and write. Everyone’s been on edge. Y’know I still hold onto that jar of cinnamon sticks you gave me. Started chewing on them out of habit whenever the anxiety and dread was getting to my head. They taste just like home..

…

Um..

Papa told me he saw you again.

When he and a couple of the others were out on patrol with Mr. Leo and big sis Luci I mean COUSIN SERGEANT Luci haha, I think she’d resent me calling her that but I know she secretly adores me.

…

They said.. they said when they saw you you were.. already turned.

You knucklehead I guess that’s why you left in the first place but to leave without saying anything to anybody?! You know Uncle Mikey would’ve helped you like he did with the others that were infected. Or did you already know that it would’ve been pointless? Don’t you at least owe your own little sister a goodbye?! Dummy dum dumdum..

…

…

Papa thought he could somehow magically get through to you, y’know make you remember who you were before life went crazy.

I heard from Mr. Leo that Luci tried to stop Papa from acting like a idiot and getting himself killed. But she ended up getting hurt instead.

Bad.

…

…

Next thing Papa knew, you and Luci were on the ground, with only one of you moving. Judging by Mr. Leo’s face when I saw him come in, he looked very torn and distraught about a very tough call he had to make. I can already guess what it was he had to do. Cousin Luci is in rough shape but insists on rejecting any medical help saying it’d just be a waste of time and resources. Doesn’t she know we’re just trying to help her? The dumdum… Don’t tell her I called her that. I just don’t want to lose her too.

…

Papa said he could’ve sworn he saw a little smile on your face when he cradled you. Maybe that’s you finally realizing you’re not being controlled by those monsters anymore and can now be at peace knowing you can’t hurt anybody else. At least that’s how I see it. It must have been terrifying to go through that alone.

…

It’s not fair it’s not fair it’s not FAIR IT’S NOT FAIR

They said they couldn’t even bring your body back because of safety reasons and that it would put the base at risk of being tracked so I couldn’t even get to see you one last time!

I miss my big brother, I miss your dumb goofy smile, I miss us having bug eating competitions and laughing at you nearly choking on a beetle, I miss falling asleep on each other while watching tv, I miss seeing you chase after the raccoons with a broomstick whenever they raided our trash cans, I miss the dogs, I miss the taste of fresh fruit, I miss our HOME! I just want this nightmare to be done with. I’m just so.. tired..

…

Papa told me they at least gave him the chance to make a grave for you and to say his goodbyes. I should’ve been there with him saying them together.

He just looks so defeated and sad. I insisted to him that we at least put together a funeral service for you so the rest of us can say our peace.

…

It was nice.

Uncle Mikey and Bao combined their powers to transform the room into a beautiful recreation of a lush meadow full of butterflies and yellow daffodils while Mr. Tello played some lovely music he still had saved recorded in his tech. It was so tranquil it almost makes you forget for a second you’re in an apocalyptic hell scape.

I think you would've loved it.

…

…

Talk to you again soon and happy birthday you numbskull. I love you.

I miss you..

[yuugen-benni]

''Not a Father's Day''

When your husband gets a baby fever TAGS: Childe x reader, the word ''sex'' appear only once, mentions of pregnancy (yes I'm breaking my own rule), Modern AU A/N: This is based on ''How I met your mother'' T4 E7, and I'M OBSESSED WITH THE HEADER PLUSHIE AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Guys, when you get married remember, Marriage has three stages:

Stage number 1: Teen era Even after you've known each other for years and years, almost tried to kill each other, and probably seen you both naked, you'll act like teenagers in their prime. You know, teasing, blushing for any reason, sex in the most inopportune places, those things that one day you will remember and feel ashamed of yourself.

Stage number 2 - Finding out The part of the relationship where you realize you knew absolutely nothing about your partner. Actually, "Nothing" is an exaggeration but you get the point. You start to know about small things that are shocking to the point of being considered a secret. Everyone has a secret, right? And the best way to count them is to dump each one. For example, Childe talking about her crazy exes:

''it's raining, look!….Oh, this reminds me so much of a crazy ex of mine who was in front of my apartment one night yelling about how she and I were meant for each other, and her husband was by her side! And the unbelievable was-''

And he kept talking and talking, while your expression was screaming ''There is more ?!'' and your mind thanks God for being normal;

Stage number 3 - Perfect couple

Here is when you became a perfect couple. What is a perfect couple? Two people who have spent so much time together that they can now create an encyclopledia about their partner. Habits, tics, favorite foods, the number of Hot Wheels cars your partner has collected, that sort of thing. Even reading expressions is possible;

The fights end and so do the disagreements

But there is only one subject that can break this: Babies.

''Hey babe, I'm back!" Childe announces his arrival, the door closes behind him as he walks over to you in the kitchen, and peck your lips "I was on my way here when I found out this little sock on our doorstep…?" Childe leans on the counter by his side with a confused expression while he plays with the child's sock, noticing the cute little blue patterns. You, who was kindly decorating cookies for Childe's siblings, looked up to look at the little thing

''It must be from new neighbors, they got the opposite apartment and knocked our door asking for help'' You started, leaving aside the piping bag ''Finally some new people! It's been so long since someone rented an apartment here'' the man commented, approaching the cookies discreetly before wincing at the slap you gave his hand

''They have two kids'' Continuing ''a baby girl and a boy with Teucer's age''

At the mention of his brother, Childe's expression changed, forgetting his red fingers. ''Awesome, we could invite them to dinner this weekend, If that's not a problem'' He gave an idea, but then raised an eyebrow at your dull expression

''They seem like good people…but I-I'm sure they'll ask those awkward questions like 'when are you two having a baby' and then apologize for being intrusive after being intrusive'' Of course, it was just an assumption, you had only interacted with them for minutes but your biggest mistake in this conversation was bringing up the subject you two avoid. Childe laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.

''Well-''

"Childe, we already talked about this. You just have a silly baby fever, and in case you didn't know, fever goes away" You quickly dismissed him, knowing he wouldn't give up so soon. Having a child was a big request, a big wish. But it's not like it wouldn't be ''easy'', you have enough money to have 50 kids and they still wouldn't use up half of Childe's bank account. His family lives in the apartment next door and could teach you more about how to take care of children…But there was still an insecurity boiling inside you.

"But what if it doesn't go away ? What If the urge to go out just to buy little socks for our child keeps eating me ?" He was almost pleading, looking into your eyes just when you tried to avoid his gaze

"...First, you need to give me good arguments" you replied after sigh, somewhat expressing your guilty. Childe opens a big smile and approaches you once more, A fox look - persuasive "hmm... don't you want hold a mini silly Childe in your arms ?-"

"Cut it off! This is serious!"

"O-okay!" He chuckled softly before silence filled the room, he looked at the floor and then at the main kitchen window "We would practically be building a story…That's not the reason I would want to have a child, in fact you is my reason. Sometimes I feel like you are the reason for my existence… and they would [literally] understand me"

You stayed quiet and walked away from the counter, taking off your apron before gently kissing his lips. He cupped your face, wiping away the small traces of flour on your cheeks. ''I'm convincing, aren't I?'' He whispered and pulled away, taking a few steps backwards as he bit into the cookie he stole while you weren't looking. Bastard. You didn't even have time to shout at him because the man was already on the other side of the apartment; you sighed, but couldn't help but giggle.

You married a idiot, a handsome idiot. Have fun.

[d10nsaint]

CIGARETTES OUT THE WINDOW | NANAMI K.

syn.+tw: spoilers. character death. smoking.

notes: some good songs are cigarette duet and cigarettes out the window. enjoy :) tired of feeling like im fucking crazy >< (someone teach me how to end a fic)

Nanami hated it when you smoked.

He hated the way you almost always had to excuse yourself to go outside during a date to take a smoke break. He hated the way you tip-toed out to the balcony when you couldn’t sleep. He hated the way the cigarettes smelled when you kissed him.

He tried everything to steer you away from smoking—he bought so many things for you to change your habits. But almost always, you would sneak out to buy your favorite pack of cigarettes.

“I cant just stop smoking, Kento. It doesn’t work like that.” You would argue, saying that, ‘The change stresses you out’, and that ‘Kento was pressuring you so much about stopping, no wonder you kept relapsing,’. But all he would ever say was, “I just want to spend the rest of my life with you. You know smoking kills,” and walk away.

He always made you feel bad about smoking— so bad that you always came rushing back to him, telling him that you only smoke because of how stressed you get, and that its never going to be because of him.

Okay, well, you lied.

Its been…what, a month since you’ve heard back from Nanami? Nobody had a clue where he was. You knew little about sorcerers, and didnt have access to them besides maybe Gojo, but even he was missing. It was driving you crazy.

You’d never smoked and drank so much in your entire life, the stress of your missing husband eating away at you. Before long, you’d even gone out to contact Gojo’s friends and students: and then you found out, in the middle of the street, that your husband was dead.

Nanami was dead. Has been, for over a month.

And you couldn’t do anything about it. No amount of bartering could bring him back. No amount of therapy, or clubbing, or whiskey could bring him back.

As soon as you get home, you snap open a pack of cigarettes, grab your favorite lighter that had a striped blue and white print, resembling your favorite suit of Nanami’s, and light a cigarette.

[rose-pearls]

Who's Afraid Of Little Old Me?

Summary: winning the games as a Career was supposed to be the best day of your life and yet it all comes crashing down as president Snow makes a radical decision.

Hi! I'm back after some time but I had a bit of a writer block and my bachelor paper was kicking my ass but here I am!! This is inspired by Taylor Swift's song "Who's Afraid Of Little Old Me?" and the reader is Mags grand-child! I'm not sure with who the reader is going to end up with but we will see!

Main Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @kmc1989, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain

Nothing.

You feel nothing. Not even after they announced you as the winner, the winner of the 75th Hunger Games. 

There was a part of you that always expected it to be the best day of your life, you had been trained for it, groomed, and prepped since you were born.

And yet the only thing you can feel as the final canon goes off is the utter guilt and pain in your chest. The supposed victory gets washed away with a terrible feeling of guilt; your hands that had already been coated with blood were now making you feel sick. 

The knife in your hand falls to the ground just as your legs give up, making you fall to the ground on your knees. Some would see it as a pure relief from the win, but they don’t know how it is the flashes of lifeless bodies that drag you down to the ground.

Each one of your victims’ flashes before your eyes, the sweet girl from twelve, the little boy from district nine and so many others before your final kill, the boy from one. He could have won it; he had the strength and the speed for it but, in the end, he made too many mistakes and the voice of your trainer told you to go for the kill.

“Give them a show” they told you. And as you look around the arena, water lapping around the shore of the beach, reminding you of home you realize that you did. They won’t be able to say that you won by luck, like some say about Brutus. You won like a Career was supposed to.

There are people coming into the arena, first picking up the lifeless body of the district one boy, the last body of the other dead tributes. You realize in the plane back to the Capitol that in the end you killed all of them, doesn’t matter if they died by your hands or not, they didn’t survive the arena, but you did.

Before you know it, you feel a weird sensation, like someone has put some morphine into your body and you fall to the floor. Silently you beg for it to kill you and save you from the all-consuming guilt that hasn’t stopped building up since the last canon went off. 

--

Finnick is looking at you with worried eyes when you finally manage to wake up, his blue-green eyes flicker over your features as if he doesn’t really believe you are there.

“Welcome back winner, it’s good to have your back”, the phrase is said softly, but you can see some form of sadness in his eyes as he looks at you, as if he is already missing something. 

You want to tell him that there is nothing to miss, that you are still the girl you were before you entered the arena, but you have never made a habit of lying so you don’t. 

“Hi,” you simply whisper, your throat feels like it’s on fire and Finnick smiles gently before giving you a cup of water.

“They are going to be bringing you some food later, but I wanted to talk with you before that,” there is a certain unease that follows his words as you see him taking a deep breath.

“What happened in the arena, it could cost you a lot,” you feel confused at his words, not understanding what he could possibly mean by that. 

“When you sang that song to district two boy,” he clarifies, and the memories come back to you, memories perhaps you wished wouldn’t come back. He had killed your district partner once the Career alliance crumbled, and you immediately answered his kill by hitting him in the chest with a knife. But as he looked at you with terrified eyes you suddenly remembered that he was only a 14-year-old child, trying to save himself. You stayed by his side, ignoring your trainers voice inside of your head that told you to leave and never look back, but you couldn’t. You held his hand and started to sing an old lullaby your mother used to sing to you before you left for the academy. 

He had died, his hand griping yours, but a final smile etched on his lips.

“I don’t understand the issue, he was a dying boy who needed reassurance,” you tell Finnick, struggling over the word ‘dying’ and Finnick nods in understanding.

“I know, but President Snow doesn’t see it that way. He sees it as some sort of defiance, and him thinking that is not a good thing,” Finnick whispers and you feel sick at the words, your stomach forming knots.

“What is going to happen?”, you can’t help but ask, deep inside of you some part wonders if he would kill you for that, and that you would be able to not face that small amount of guilt you had felt in the arena that was now coming back in waves.

“You will have to meet him before the crowning ceremony, he wants to talk to you,” the words have a certain tone to them, that tells you that there truly is no choice in the matter.

“Any advice?”, you ask, looking at your mentor who seemed to know everything when you met him.

“Don’t cross him,” he tells you before they come in with dinner and you look at it with uninterested eyes. 

“Just eat what you can, you won’t eat a lot the first few days as your stomach is smaller due to the games,” Finnick tells you that as if you hadn’t known of it, as if they hadn’t told you all about it during your years at the academy. 

When Finnick leaves and everyone else is gone you take the time to lift up your hospital gown, the scar that had been left by a small knife is gone, making your stomach drop.

As you start searching for any signs of the scars from the arena that you had gotten during your days in there you can only find smooth skin. The scar from when you fell down the stairs when you were little is gone, the scar on your leg from one summer ago is gone and every little scar that had lithered your body and made you, you are gone. It’s like they had taken a wipe and wiped you clean, to make you ready for the Capitol. 

You can’t sleep, not like you used to be able to. The familiar faces of the children in the arena follow you and the nightmares follow you one after the other. And as you wake up one final time you find President Snow sitting next to you. You think it’s another nightmare for a moment but the bright light shining into your eyes and the headache starting to form makes you realize that this is real. 

“President Snow, it’s an honor to meet you,” you managed to say, your voice breaking over the words as you haven’t had anything to drink yet. The man gives you a glass of water and you drink it quietly, hoping for it too last longer than it does.

“I wish I could say the same Miss Flanagan,” his words are cold, much like his last name and you try not to shiver at them, but it gets difficult as the silence follows.

“Your grand-mother, Mags, was one of the first victors to come out of the arena and just like you she was seen as a worthy winner,” you can’t help but nod, thinking of your grand-mother who had stayed in district four, unable to look at you in the games while she was in the room watching them.

“However, she seemed to know how to act, from what I have seen you can’t,” the words are slow, precise and cut like a knife.

“I am sorry for what I did in the arena sir, it wasn’t my intention to do something negative,” you try to say, you try to convince him that you didn’t have a thought behind the action you had, except for wanting to reassure the poor boy.

“This system that we have here Miss Flanagan is a fragile one and it needs to be kept stable. A girl from district four singing to a dying boy from two will give people that wrong ideas. It could lead them to think that you are more alike than you think you are,” you manage not to tell him that you all are the same, just kids thrown into an arena, some better prepared than others but still kids. Somehow the president seems to have understood what you were thinking.

“I will only say this once, and I hope you will listen to me. It is extremely important that the system stays stable, and I will not let that system be broken by a girl doing something without thinking, is that clear?”, his voice is colder than before, threats coating his words, making you shiver.

“Very clear sir, I promise you I won’t do anything like that ever again,” you whisper, trying to keep your heart from beating out of your chest.

“And yet your promise isn’t enough,” he tells you, making you want to scream and beg him to tell you how you can somehow fix something you didn’t even knew you had done.

“Being a winner from district four and a winner of a Quarter Quell will get you a lot of attention and I can’t risk you making a wrong step,” you want to tell him that you have Finnick by your side but you stop yourself, unable to talk as if he had taken all your teeth from your mouth, rendering you unable to talk.

“The public has been comparing your games to the one of Haymitch Abernathy, the previous winner of the Quarter Quell,” you remember him, not his games, but the broken man who seemed a bit more alive due to his victors win last year. Everyone had told you at the academy that Haymitch was just a washed out drunk but as you had watched the man closely you couldn’t help but think there was something more.

“People think you would make a marvelous couple and I tend to agree,” his words make your blood turn cold, his eyes calculating but a sadistic smile on his lips makes you think of a serpent, ready to attack.

“I’m not sure I follow sir,” you say after a moment of silence.

“It is quite simple miss Flanagan; I need you out of the spotlight and what better way to do that then to ban you to district twelve by marrying you too the winner of the last Quarter Quell. Sure, the marriage and your engagement will be quite the talk of the town but once that is over and your tour no one will pay attention to you anymore,” you feel your breathing quicken and yet it is as if you aren’t able to get any air inside of your lungs at his words.

“Please sir, I’ll do anything,” you try to plead but the president shakes his head.

“My decision is final, and it is a rather kind one if I do say so myself. Unless you would prefer to do what mister Odair has been doing all these years,” the prostitution, you know about it, it was difficult not to when Finnick would come crying into your grand-mother’s arms after a nightmare. It was the worst kept secret in the academy.

“No sir,” you say, feeling like a puppet on a string, unable to do anything.

“Good. Your engagement will be announced a few days before your tour. I would suggest you start packing your affairs because once you start your tour you will never go back to district four,” he closes the door behind him as if he hadn’t just destroyed your whole life and you can’t help but let out a choked sob. 

The tears that you had been holding back since the arena came falling down your cheeks as the guilt from the arena and the helplessness combined with each other as one. 

[mickittotheman]

Hello can I ask for gallavich + 36 for the kisses prompt? Thank you 😄

Hello!!! Yes yes of course!

36. ...to give up control

Mickey didn't think the whole kiss thing would be a big deal.

Well, okay, scratch that. He’d known it would be a big deal. It had been a big deal. Had been a huge fucking deal and had left his heart racing and his lungs hitching and his lips tingling for hours afterwards, even through the chaos of getting shot in the fucking ass. 

But it wasn’t like– it wasn't some big thing. He just did it to prove a point, to prove he could, to get a one up on that creepy ass pedo hanging around Ian and taking him on dates and ordering him fucking room service. 

Except now he hasn’t been able to get it out of his head since. And he hasn't seen Ian since. And he’s kinda driving himself fucking insane.

It wasn't even an actual proper fucking kiss. No tongue action, no biting, no hot and heavy groaning. Just their lips smashed together awkwardly in the driveway of that fuckwad’s house, Mickey’s brothers just yards away. If that had been enough to get Mickey this worked up, what the fuck will it be like when they kiss for real?

If they kiss for real.

They probably will.

Fuck.

Mickey gets all tangled up in himself, the way he always does when it comes to stupid shit like this, stuff that shouldn’t mean anything but actually means everything and could absolutely get him killed but actually makes him feel more alive than he’s ever felt. He’s jittery when he goes in for his shift– the first one he’s working since being shot (again). He jumps at the sound of the bell chiming above his head. Tenses as he sees Ian’s head whip around towards the door.

“Mick!”

Mickey makes some non-committal grunting sound and beelines towards the donut case.

For the first few hours, it's fine. Ian doesn't bring it up, doesn't even hint at it. He’s got way bigger shit going down with his family to deal with. The stupid kiss probably isn't even a blip on his radar.

They end up in the freezer like they always do. They can’t fuck with Mickey’s bullet wounds, but he gets Ian off with his hands and Ian gets him off with his mouth, and it’s not as good as fucking but it gets the job done.

After, as they’re both grinning and panting and getting their belts situated, Ian tries to kiss him.

When Mickey pushes him away, it’s more out of habit than anything. He flushes, feeling stupid as hell, but Ian’s already smiling sheepishly and pulling away.

“Sorry. Should probably brush my teeth or something, huh?”

Mickey shrugs at him. Gnaws at his lower lip. Feels his breath hitch as Ian’s gaze darts down to his mouth.

Ian turns away and heads back up front.

+++

It keeps happening. The second time Mickey pushes him away–( when Ian tries to give him a fucking goodbye kiss like they’re fucking boyfriend and girlfriend)– Ian goes all quiet and sullen and mopey. 

The third time, he gets pissed. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

They’re in the freezer again. They’d only just stumbled in. Up until a second ago, Ian had been pressed up against him, hands groping every part of Mickey he could reach.

“What?” Mickey snaps, cheeks burning against the cold air, scowl firmly in place. He didn't even push him away this time! He made sure he didn’t, made damn well sure to keep his reflexes on lockdown, but he must have let some little twitch or flinch slip through the cracks because now Ian’s pulling back to glare at him.

“I am such an idiot,” Ian mutters. Mickey is inclined to agree. “I should have known better.”

Mickey bristles. “The fuck are you going on about now?”

“Oh please, you fucking know–”

Mickey gathers his wits and his guts and shuts him up with a kiss.

Ian tenses, then melts, lips softening under Mickey’s, bigass hands coming up to slide through Mickey’s hair. 

Mickey’s breath hitches. He lets out this weird little noise. He pulls back.

Ian’s lips chase after his, and Mickey flinches, and just like that Ian’s tense again. “Stop doing that–”

“I’m not fucking flinching like a little bitch on purpose–”

“Not that,” Ian scoffs. He tightens his fingers in Mickey’s hair when Mickey tries to pull away. “Stop kissing me just to prove a fucking point!”

“I thought you wanted me to kiss you–”

“I want you to want to kiss me! I want it to mean something! Instead you’re just using it to– to– to try and fucking gain control–”

“Jesus fucking christ, Ian, stop being such a girl!”

Ian huffs and pulls away, and he’s right, he is an idiot, because how can he not fucking get it?

“It’s not– I’m not–” Mickey cuts off with a low growl. Scrubs hard at his mouth, trying to force the words out, because he knows he can barely fucking offer Ian anything but he’s gotta at least give him something. “When I– When I kiss you, or whatever,” Mickey starts again, skin hot and face flushed and every bone in his body protesting, “I’m not tryna fucking control you.”

There’s more he could say. Like how every time he kisses Ian he’s giving up the meager amount of control he has, how that fucking scares him and exhilarates him and maybe that makes him a pussy but its the fucking truth, how he’s trying, really fucking trying, and he needs Ian to see that.

He doesn't say any of that shit. But he thinks Ian gets it anyways.

Ian stares at him for a long moment with that weirdass intense look he sometimes gets in his eyes. “So you do want to kiss me?”

Mickey rolls his eyes and tries not to squirm. “The fuck do you think?”

“And you want me to kiss you?”

Mickey shrugs. Nods, just once, the movement sharp and short and jerky.

Ian squints at him for another eternity before taking a deep breath. He brings his hands up slow, works his fingers into Mickey’s hair again, and when he leans in Mickey still flinches except this time Ian doesn’t stop. He seals their lips together, steady and sure, and doesn’t give Mickey more than a split second to adjust before darting his tongue out.

Mickey gasps, just a bit. It’s enough to give Ian the leeway he needs to work Mickey’s mouth open further.

Holy fuck.

Mickey gets his hands on Ian’s hips to wrench him closer. Ian retaliates by yanking on Mickey’s hair, tugging until Mickey’s head is angled just right, and Mickey has to pull back enough to suck in a sharp breath. 

“Fuck, Mickey,” Ian hums. “You taste so fucking good.”

Mickey sincerely fucking doubts that– knows for a fact that his mouth tastes like cigarettes and burnt coffee and the chocolate bar he scarfed down earlier– but then Ian bites down hard on Mickey’s lower lip and Mickey loses his train of thought.

And maybe kissing ain’t such a big fucking deal afterall. And maybe, just maybe, it’s a huge fucking deal.

send me a number~

[wannaeatramyeon]

your sammy content has me screaming, blushing, giggling and kicking my legs!!! idk if you write for this stuff, but would you mind writing what yandere sammy, gun and goo would be like? have a wonderful day <3 - 🌺anon

Fanon Sammy has me reacting exactly the same tbh! TYSM for reading and the ask 🌺🌺🌺🌺❤️

Oof. Toxic, abusive relationships? (And this is also a trigger warning). I haven't made this as dark as it could be but here we go...

Lookism Yanderes: Gun Park, Goo Kim, Samuel Seo

A snippet into their toxicity

Gun Park

"How was school?"

You land on the sofa with a crash next to Gun.

Ugh. School was... school. Albeit a little better this week than it has been. The worst of your project work is over and that idiot in your class hasn't been around.

"Is that classmate still giving you trouble?"

"Huh? Oh. I haven't seen him this week."

"Hmm. Interesting."

Something about the way Gun says that draws your attention.

Why is he smiling? Is he happy that you're happy or-

Come to think of it. You haven't seen him since you last mentioned him bullying you to Gun.

... Everyone who causes you trouble has a habit of going 'missing'.

There was the group of girls who harassed you. Some drunken idiot who catcalled. This classmate who started picking on you. And actually, that boy you made friends with a few months back and Gun had disapproved when you told him.

The dots start to connect.

You startle back to the present and notice Gun staring intently at you. He knows that you know.

"Don't be scared, Y/N. I'm only doing this to protect you."

You know your boyfriend is violent, but you never thought-

"Are they..." you can't bring yourself to say the word 'dead'. The idea that Gun killed these people terrifies you.

"Not dead. They just aren't here anymore." Gun notices the shock written all over your face. He continues, "Y/N, haven't I made your life so much easier?"

And that is true. To an extent. But-

"You understand I would never hurt you?"

Wouldn't he? You suppose he has never laid a hand on you. You nod.

"You trust me?"

That, you do. He has never given you reason to doubt him. You nod again.

"Say the words."

"I trust you..."

"And?"

"It's for my own good." you say, even as the insidious grip of fear starts to wind its way around your neck.

Goo Kim

The bell to the cafe jingles, signalling a new patron. You put on your peppiest customer service smile.

Oh. Your face falls when you see who it is.

"You're here again?"

Goo just grins, taking his usual spot right by the counter. Right by you. "Yes my little sweetpea. Just visiting my love at work!"

It started as a nice gesture, Goo occasionally popping in. And if he wasn't here then he would be constantly texting you.

(He sulked for a week straight when you told him you weren't allowed your phone when you're working. Somehow you felt personally responsible for this despite it being a work policy.)

His quick coffee breaks turned into a few hours of lingering then eventually staying during your entire work schedule.

It is too much. Far too much.

"Goo... You know I got told off last time when you stayed for my whole shift."

"Is your manager still giving you a hard time!" Your boyfriend looks at you with the saddest puppy eyes and a pout. Goddamn it. Why are you the one feeling guilty.

You press on with what you want to say anyhow, "... Don't you think you being here all the time is a little inappropriate?"

Not just a little - a lot, you think. And not inappropriate - completely suffocating. But you are careful with your words.

"No! How could you think that..." The sulk intensifies and Goo looks genuinely upset. Ah shit. You're about to apologise- "Besides, I think your new boss would be fine with this."

In a blink of an eye, the mood changes. Goo looks happy. Manic, almost.

You narrow your eyes at him. What is he up to. "How do you know?"

"Let's just say I know him very personally."

"Who is it?"

"Your beloved - me! I bought this little cafe! Now I can see you all day every day!"

Seriously? This is ridiculous.

Your eyes quickly dart towards the other customers and your coworkers. You can't make a scene and frankly, you don't have the energy for this fight.

Nor do you want to put up with a week straight of tantrums until you inevitably suck it up and apologise.

Instead, you attempt your customer service smile again.

You hope it works.

Samuel Seo

Entering the living room, you are immediately greeted by Samuel glaring at you.

"Where have you been?"

"Didn't you see my text?" You are sure you texted him before you left, telling him not to wait for you for dinner.

"I must have missed it." His expression doesn't change. "Where did you go?"

It was nothing special. You just had a catch up with a few classmates over a meal. Your eyes glance at the clock. It's not even 8pm.

"Who were you with?"

You explain (and you did mention if he had just checked his phone), but Samuel makes you list out every person.

"There were guys there?"

You frown at him. Well, yes but it's not like it wasn't a group-

"Am I not enough for you?"

The question surprises you but you read between the lines. You know Samuel has his insecurity issues, and you have been trying to work through them with him. Surely, this should have been fine.

"Of course you are," You try to defuse the situation, yet the doubt creeps in that you could have been more considerate.

"I would be more comfortable if you asked first." Samuel approaches you, angry and disappointed. "How am I supposed to concentrate on work if I don't know where you are?"

"But I did text-"

"Do you want me to lose my job?"

You shake your head.

"Everything I've worked for?" Samuel looms over you, looking furious.

You shake your head again.

"Then why is it too much to ask you to ask me first before you wander off?"

Your eyes start to well up with tears.

"Don't be like that." Immediately the anger is gone, replaced by concern, "I'm only worried about you."

His hand reaches out to stroke your cheek, and you lean into it - does this mean that the worst of the storm seems to be over?

"You know I love you, right?"

Of course. It's obvious that Samuel loves you. And you love him too. He's only doing this for your sake.

"I know. Sorry for making you worry."

[poge-life]

This does contain spoilers for season 3 so please don’t read if you haven’t watched!

Summary; Rafe Cameron was…your everything. You would do anything for him and have done everything for him. But it just wasn’t enough for him. He was your Favorite Crime

Warnings; a whole lotta angst, spoilers for OBX3 so if you haven’t watched it, do not read this.

Knew that I loved you so bad

I let you treat me like that

I was your willing accomplice, honey

When Rafe had shown up at your house in a distressed state and asked you to come with him, you didn’t hesitate. Things had been rocky between both of you since the summer. His drug addiction took up most of his time and whatever was left, was solely focused on his dad and trying to prove he was a better child than Sarah.

You guys spend most of your time fighting; about drugs, his behavior, his horrible spending habits. But you would do anything for him. Even letting him drag you all over the OBX looking for that stupid cross that neither of you had any business looking for. But, all Rafe heard was an opportunity to bring something valuable, and possibly, life changing to his dad.

You were there when Carla Limbrey’s muscle man was shot, you were there when he and Pope got into yet another fight and you were there when he almost shot the Pogues.

You were the perfect accomplice.

And I watched as you fled the scene

Doe-eyed as you buried me

One heart broke, four hands bloody

Rafe didn’t hesitate to leave you behind as tried to find a way to save Ward after his fight with John B and Sarah. Both of you had rushed to his side once you found him, hands immediately going to the open wound on the back of his head. You just sat there, bloody hands in your lap, a wide eyed look on your face, watching as Rafe didn’t glance back at you once to see if you were following him.

Breaking your heart with every step he took.

The things I did

Just so I could call you mine

The things you did

Well, I hope I was your favorite crime

You lost your friends that summer. You got kicked out of UNC; the school board wasn’t comfortable with someone who had no intention cutting off ties with the Cameron family despite everything they had done. Your parents had cut you off when you guys argued about Rafe and everything that was said about him on the Island.

But Rafe didn’t care. All because you were his.

Used me as an Alibi

I crossed my heart as you crossed the line

And I defended you to all my friends

He came to you when they issued a warrant for his arrest for killing Sheriff Peterkin. Saying you needed to tell them he was with you that day. He wanted to use you as an alibi because he knew you would do anything for him.

So you did. You managed to fake security footage from the summer to the date and time of the murder. All because you would do anything for him.

Your friends had tried talking you out of dating him the minute he dropped out of college; you said he was going to take over Ward’s business and that he needed to focus on it because it’s all he’s ever wanted. You told them he wasn’t like what everyone said he was. And he wasn’t. At least end, when it was just you two. He let you see his vulnerable side. He told you how he thought something was wrong with him and that he needed help but that he was scared.

And now every time a siren sounds

I wonder if you’re around

‘Cause you know I’d do it again

You were more used to hearing police sirens than you were your own voice at this point. You couldn’t help but look for Rafe’s truck or bike every time you heard them, as he and his family were the reason as of late for the sirens. But you didn’t regret it. You’d go back and do it all over again. You’d give him an alibi, you’d go with him to look for the cross again. Just so you could finally have a little bit of his attention.

It wasn’t always like this between you two. Rafe hadn’t always been so angry at the world. You two used to be the couple everyone was jealous of. And now? Everyone felt sorry for you; sorry that you couldn’t help but love him despite everything that’s done. Despite the fact you lost everything you ever wanted and everything you had because of him.

It’s bittersweet to think about the damage that we do

Cause I was going down, but I was doing it with you

You didn’t care about anything at this point. All you cared about was Rafe. You didn’t care that your reputation was ruined or that you lost your scholarship. All because you were with him.

Yeah, everything we broke and all the trouble we made

But I say that I hate you with a smile on my face

Fights broke out more frequently between you two; in public and in private. You were slowly starting to give up. Giving up on the fact that Rafe didn’t seem to care any more. That all he cared about was Ward and getting back into his good graces and that stupid cross.

But you always smiled at him at the end. Because he always knew what to say to get you to stay. A smile on your face as you said how you hated him. But you didn’t. You could never hate him.

Oh, look at what we became

If it wasn’t so loud at Tanny Hill, you were sure everyone could hear your heart break. Rafe had decided to not sell the business, even though that was whole point of you two coming back to the OBX, and threw a party to get back into the swing of things. It had been normal between the two of you, almost too normal. He stopped with the drugs, but Barry was still around which you hated, he wasn’t as angry and he had told you how he was working on not letting his anger take over.

But you knew something else was up. He got too comfortable being back and now you knew why.

Sofia.

The bartender from the club. She was here and tucked under Rafe’s arm as he led her into his room, sliding the glass door shut behind them. Tears welled up in your eyes as you thought about everything you did for him; helped him lie about killing Peterkin, stood by as he beat his sisters friends on more than one occasion, you got kicked out of school because of him. Your friends all but hated you and your parents don’t talk to you anymore.

But Rafe didn’t care.

You walked away from the party, pulling out your phone as you dialed a number you hadn’t in a while. Taking a deep breath when she answered, you spoke quietly, “What do you need from me to bring down Rafe?”

Well, I hope I was your favorite crime.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Switched Sides - End || Lloyd Hansen

Character: Lloyd Hansen x former Hitman!FemaleReader

Summary: Y/N L/N quit her job as a hitman to take care of her nephew after her stepbrother died. It’s been a year since she became a good aunt to her nephews, and she wants to keep it that way. But her quiet life got disturbed when her former boss asked for her help.

Warning: Nothing.

A/N: Reblog and any feedback are much appreciated.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Last Chapter.

Main Masterlist || Buy me Ko-fi please 🥹

In the warm sunlight with the birds chirping in the peaceful morning. Inside the bedroom, there are two people on the bed. They were still sleeping since they were exhausted from last night's activity. 

Lloyd woke up first while you were still lying beside him. It’s rare. If this happened a year ago, you wouldn’t still be here. You would leave in a second after you use his body. It never crossed your mind about relationships since you prefer to be alone. 

That’s why he still didn’t believe you could be a parent.

You're the most daredevil person he has ever known. You're not afraid of death.

If there's a reaper in front of you, you probably asked the angel of death, "What took you so long?"

That's why you're the deadliest hitman at the agency. The code name Antarctica fits you. When you were on a mission, your expression never changed. You are cold and deadly. You're not afraid of anything since you have nothing to lose. When you left, everyone felt the differences. Even the head of the agency was regretful for letting you go. 

This is the reason why he approached you. The agency wants you to come back. 

Lloyd thought it would be easy, but when he saw you, Mark, and Kendall together, he realized it would be difficult. 

He sighed heavily, his hand gently stroking your back, and then he kissed your forehead. "Do you like your nephew that much?"

After he said those words, you suddenly open your eyelid and look at him. Lloyd swore he almost got a heart attack. 

“Yes, I do.”

You would go crazy if something ever happened to them. 

Because you realize your nephew is the reflection of your brother. Every little thing that Mark and Kendall do it's the same as your brother. The way they sleep, eat and get angry. 

You didn't realize you missed your brother that much until the last time you saw him lifeless inside the casket. The little brother who always followed you around never complained when you could only give him a boiled pumpkin for lunch and dinner. 

Back then, both of you were poor, and you worked on child labor at the farm. The farm owner always gave you any vegetable before it turned rotten. The only veggies that could fulfill your hunger were pumpkin. And the habits stayed. One time on the mission, you and Lloyd were hiding in the safe house. The location was the city's outskirts, and it was near the farm. Living near the farm brings you back. You didn’t realize you ate a lot of pumpkins until Lloyd pointed that out. 

You and your brother didn't have a good childhood. Since you can't return the time, you want to give Mark and Kendall the best childhood. 

"I've been living my life like a walking corpse. It doesn't matter to me if today or tomorrow will be my last day."

Being a hitman, you need to kill your feelings and emotions. 

But you regained both when you saw Mark and Kendall at your brother's funeral. The way Mark protects his baby brother is the same as when you were kids. Suddenly, you remembered when you and your brother could only be silent when the parents were fighting and arguing. 

You don't want that memory to happen again. 

That's why you volunteered to be the guardian for Mark and Kendall. You want to provide them with the best childhood. 

"I do love them. They're the reason why I want to wake up and live every day."

When Lloyd heard that, it confirmed his guess. You’re not coming back. He wants to say he doesn’t like it, but you’ve made your choice.

He lifted the blanket and then stood up from the bed. "Let's go. Bruno had left me hundreds of messages."

You were taken aback seeing him being disappointed. It seems like you made a mistake. But you don't know why. 

Both of you walk together to your apartment. When you arrived at the building, Lloyd whispered to your ears, "The stalker has been following us. I'll get him."

You didn't feel threatened. "Don't do anything. Meet me at the park once you get him."

Lloyd nodded and left. 

The moment you arrived at your apartment, Bruno opened the door. Heartbreak crossed his arms. "You're late."

You shrugged your shoulders. "We got a surprise attack last night."

"Bullshit. You spend the night with him." 

You scoffed and headed into the room. You saw your nephew drawing on the kid's table. 

"I hope they're not trouble you."

"They're good kids."

Mark and Kendall were used to babysitting. Their father works as a detective and always goes home late at night. 

"Where's Lloyd? I thought you came here together."

You got closer to Bruno and whispered, "He noticed I have a stalker, so he went to catch him."

"Oh. We noticed that." 

You raised your eyebrows. "We?"

Bruno clicked his tongue. The secret finally got out. He went to the coffee machine to make coffee. "Well the reason why we came here is to bring you back to the agency."

He poured the coffee into the glass. "I'm not supposed to say this, but he missed you."

"Lloyd?"

"Well, both of you are the best duo and could finish a difficult mission in a short time without being stabbed or getting shots. Since you left, he chose to work alone."

'Ring.'

A phone call from Lloyd: "I've found him. It's just a kid."

"A kid?" You thought you heard wrong. You immediately ran to the park.

When you arrived, you saw Lloyd sitting on the bench while the other person kneeled. 

Lloyd noticed you. "I think you should talk to him."

You looked at the kid who was wearing an oversized hoodie. No wonder why you don't feel threatened. He's just a teenager. 

You got closer and leaned down "Why did you follow me?"

The teenager lifted his face to look at you. "I want to apologize to you and the kids."

"Me? Why?"

"It's because of me the detective got exposed with the drugs and he lost his life. I'm so sorry." He bowed his head to the ground. 

You have learned about your brother's death. He was investigating the drug case, and he met the drug addict. When he went to one location, he was exposed to fentanyl and inhaled it. He got overdosed, and the help arrived late. 

The teenage sobbing, "I got sent to rehabilitation, and when I got out, I wanted to apologize, but I'm too scared to face you. It's because of me the kids lost their father. 

When you hear his explanation, you want to punch him. But you can't do it. Your brother would be disappointed. The reason why he joined law enforcement is to help people. 

You squared down at the same level as him. "Stop feeling guilty. At least you apologize and admit your mistakes. You have stopped doing drugs, too. My brother would be proud of your effort."

After you said those words, you could see the teenage face brighten up a bit. Seems like your words ease his burden. He is still young and has much time to fix his life. 

You share an encouragement to the teenager before you and Lloyd go back to the apartment. 

While walking together, he grabbed your hand. "That was disappointing. I was expecting you to gage his eyes out and pull his finger nails."

You giggled. "If I were still a hitman, I would do it. But now, I must be a good role model for my nephew."

Lloyd hummed and kept walking. 

You notice him sulking; he could be childish sometimes. "I'm sorry, Lloyd. I'm going to stay."

Lloy stopped his foot."I understand."

You were silent until you said, "But I will be here for you, and they like you."

Lloyd stopped again. But this time, he looks at you with a smile. "Don't use them to get me."

"Mister Hansen!"

Lloyd heard the familiar voice. He looked up front and saw Mark running towards you while Bruno carried Kendall. 

With his little leg, Mark runs faster than he holds Lloyd's legs. 

Lloyd looked at you and sighed. "I'll come and visit when I have the time."

5 years later. 

"Left, right, left, right."

"More passion, more energy."

Three males are running together. They're jogging at the same pace. 

Lloyd in the middle, Mark on his right, and Kendall on his left. This jogging is for Kendall. He's joining the marathon for this year. 

His cancer treatment went well, and his body accepted all the medicine. He became cancer-free when he was five years old. 

"Always keep your pace, and be confident at the race Kendall."

Kendall looked up and nodded. "Okay, Dad."

Lloyd hummed happily when he heard that. It never occurred to him would be called by that name.

It happened after he put the ring on your finger. After three years, he decided to retire from being a hitman and join you. 

The four of you became a complete family. It's quick for Kendall to call Lloyd as dad, but Mark doesn't. He still calls him uncle or mister. But if he mentioned Lloyd with his friends or teacher, he would "I will ask my dad first."

After the training, three of them go home. When they opened the door, a delicious aroma filled their nose. 

They saw a variety of food plates on the dining table. 

Lloyd is always greeted with this warm picture after he marries you. 

You were putting a spoon of sugar into the pot when you saw them, "You guys got back early."

Mark unties his shoelace. "The sky darkened, and it's going to start raining. Mister Hansen doesn't want mud on his shoes."

Lloyd shook his head; he ruffled Mark's hair. "You and your brother go take a shower before eating."

"Okay." Both of them answered together and ran to their room.

After the kids were gone, Lloyd joined you and wrapped his arms around your waist. You felt his mischievous gaze before he kissed you. 

You never thought you could have this life before you didn't want anything. This was before you met your brother again, and Lloyd suddenly appeared by helicopter. 

The moment they appear, your dull life turns to bright. You weren't prepared, but with them, you could do anything. The world is yours, and you're not alone in it. It's a gift, a blessing, the best gift of all. And it's yours to keep.

-The End-

Thank you so much for reading and following the series. I know the ending seems rushed, it's because I have no more idea how to continue the story.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Last Chapter.

Main Masterlist || Buy me Ko-fi please 🥹

Taglist:

@sabrinaselina55, @magnificentsaladllama , @cherrybubblebullet @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters , @bagoffeelings @darkofimagination, @starsofcloud, @thatzolagirl, @distancedss, @mswgtsd @chibijusstuff

[rosypenguins]

🍃🌸Green Gang Headcanons!🌸🍃

🩷Elliot🩷

🩷Surprisingly a lot stronger than he seems. (Carries 40lb bags of gardening soil like it’s nothing.)

🩷Always really warm for some reason.

🩷Probably has terrible posture. Man is always hunched over.

🩷His hands are probably really shaky too. Even when he’s relaxed.

🩷Would 100% listen to Cavetown.

🩷Plays FPS games with Milly suprisingly. (Thank you @ratkingnezu for this one. 🙏)

🩷He probably secretly loves MLP. (And when Milly found out they definitely binged the series together.) (His favorite character’s Fluttershy.)

🩷Gives names to all his plants.

🩷Aurizzm King. 👑 (He’s literally so charming without even trying.)

🩷 Probably doesn’t know what a twink is. (But if he had it explained to him he’d probably unashamedly agree that he is a twink.)

🩷Would probably be more than comfortable wearing a skirt.

🩷“I need a kind of woman that’ll actually just kill me.”

🩷Needs reassurance 24/7. (Milly leaves him alone for two minutes. “She probably hates me…”)

🩷Terrified of rejection. (Literally avoids doing things just so he can’t be rejected.)

🩷Literally the whiniest person with the people he’s comfortable around.

🩷Finds ways to win arguments in the shower. (But clams up in any real confrontation.)

🖤Bradley🖤

🖤Probably gets mistaken as an adult a lot. (Everyone assumes he’s around 21-25.)

🖤95% of his wardrobe is just tracksuits. Man wears nothing else. (He’d totally wear one on a date or something and think nothing of it. 😭)

🖤Lifts 200lbs. “I’m gonna be so good at hugging.”

🖤Listens to a lot of heavy metal, but specifically the songs that have like the really soft vocals and absolutely insane drums.

🖤Oh but you know he also listens to Sabrina Carpenter whenever he goes jogging.

🖤Good at pretty much any sport he tries. (Even without any practice.)

🖤Probably likes his food really bland. Like he seasons nothing.

🖤Refuses to kill bugs if they get inside. Traps them in cups and takes them outside.

🖤Momma’s boy 100%.

🖤He’d be the type of boyfriend to overhear his partner off-handedly mention they’ve been craving strawberries, then go out to a strawberry field to pick only the finest of strawberries to bring home, wash, cut, and serve to his partner. (And then he says nothing about it afterwards.) (Man would be DEDICATED.)

🖤Physically incapable of talking to girls. (Or anyone he deems attractive really.)

🖤He’s one of those people that’ll just linger in the corners of social gathering for like two hours, surveying the vibes and conversations without realizing how creepy he’s coming off as, and only once he’s figured out the topic of discussing and how everyone’s feeling, he’ll try to blend into the conversation and not understand why everyone seems a little off-put by him.

🖤Has a really bad habit of just staring at people. (Probably likes people-watching in general.)

🖤The gardening club has a group-chat and Bradley refuses to talk in it. Like, the most he’ll do is send some Instagram reel of a cat, then go back to lurking for the next several months.

🖤Probably has that damn pineapple in his room still, which he talks to sometimes. 🍍

🖤Sometimes just leaves conversations without really saying anything. Like someone will be in the middle of talking and he’s just “-aight, I’m out.”

💚Faye💚

💚She’s really bad about staying asleep. She tends to wake up at like 3:00am every other night, and since I like to imagine her and Dom share a room, she probably wakes him up sometimes.

💚Midnight snacker 100%.

💚She’s really quiet when she moves, so sometimes it seems like she just spawns in when she’s actually been standing there for several minutes. (She’s fully aware of this and likes using it to startle people.)

💚Along with spiders I think she’d like sharks too.

💚Loves being in the dark.

💚Sensitive to loud noises.

💚Her and Dom were always bringing bugs inside the house when they were younger.

💚Was obsessed with fairies when she was younger. But not the pretty Disney fairies. She liked the fairies from mythology that would curse people and steal names. (She’d pretend to steal Dom’s name all the time.)

💚Also had a Warrior Cats phase. (She had a whole medicine cat OC and can still name all the herbs used in the books.)

💚Aro-ace.

💚Doesn’t really get mad often, but when she does she’s terrifying. (Even Dom get’s a little on-edge.)

💚Really bad at reading facial expressions and social cues. Unless something is directly stated she’s going to be very confused.

💚Neither her nor Dom have a single pair of normal white socks. They always have to be brightly colored, or have fun patterns on them.

🧡Dominic🧡

🧡When he first saw Ratatouille, it became his whole personality for like a month. (He still refers to every rat as Remy.)

🧡Probably watches Dragon Ball.

🧡Really likes Squishmallows.

🧡One of those people who wants like literally every animal as a pet. (Despite being fully aware that many of the animals he wants very well might kill him.)

🧡Probably still afraid of the dark. (And keeps a night-light in his bedroom.)

🧡Very accident-prone. (And has probably broken several bones before.)

🧡Pan. (And absolutely terrible at flirting.)

🧡He’s surprisingly good at reading people, but only because he knows what patterns and smaller details to look for. (He’s a little better with social cues than Faye, but not by much.)

🧡Cuts his own hair. Thinks hairstylists are a scam.

🧡Probably draws on his shoes.

🧡I like to think the sweater he wears is actually too small for him. (Considering the sleeves cut off a little short.) He outgrew it last year but he’s emotionally attached to it so he refuses to wear anything else.

🧡Had a Wings of Fire phase. (Is probably still in said phase.)

🧡Looks at obviously hot object. “Hm, I wonder if this is hot.” Places hand on hot object to check. Shocked when it burns him.

🧡Him and Faye always had to pull out the measuring tape whenever they were told to split something.

🧡He’s probably a lot more protective of Faye than he lets on. (He’s probably older by like, 5 minutes and refuses to let Faye forget that.)

🧡Left-handed. (Not really a headcanon I just wanted to point this out. If you go back to the first episode of the spin-off you can see Dom’s pencil’s on his left side. He later uses his left hand to spin the pencil around, too.)

🧡He likes stealing Elliot’s glasses to see how bad Elliot’s vision is.

🧡Him and Faye have oddly good senses of smell.

🧡The biggest baby when he’s sick. (Yet he actively refuses to take medicine.)

🧡Probably a secret anarchist.

[slyvester101]

Fuck it, I’m posting the first part while I finish the rest take it

Here’s God!Tucker au: Part 1

+++

Wash found Tucker by accident.

He had been traveling, trying to get back to Armonia in time for the peace talks, but he’d gotten sidetracked helping out a town with some trouble makers and then was delayed when the bridge that marked the border crossing into Chorus broke down, forcing him to go all the way around.

And then the storm rolled in.

By the time he found shelter in an abandoned temple, he was soaked to his bones, armor completely ruined by the wet that seeped into them. He guided his trusty steed in, mumbling a quick prayer of thanks for the shelter and please don’t strike me down for bringing my horse in here. I really don’t want to leave her outside in the rain.

Wash gasps when he enters, gazing in awe as he looks at the scenery around him.

The temple is large and open, beautiful columns of stone lining the whole room. Even with the flora that has seeped in, vines winding around pillars and across the ceiling, flowers blooming from their bushes, branches of a large unkempt tree escaping into the ceiling, it all has an air of elegance that has Wash holding his breath, like it’d be disrespectful to let the air from his lungs taint the marble and stone.

But the most glorious thing about this place, the thing that has Wash making his way deeper into the temple, is the giant sculpted statue on the back wall. It almost reaches the ceiling, the figure depicted kneeling as he reaches out with his hands cupped. Rain water fills it now, but Wash sees the glisten of gold coins as an offering sunken at the bottom.

The figure is surrounded by decaying gifts, bouquets that have long since eroded, food that is barely identifiable, and trinkets made of the finest metal and gems rusted and broken after years of neglect.

Wash thinks he understands why this god was so well-loved. His face is soft and kind, the curl of his lip happy and maybe a little mischievous, long locs fall over his shoulder and down his back, gold making up the beads of his lovingly carved hair. He looks like a dream, a figure Wash would’ve been more than happy to worship just to look at him.

He steps in front of the statue, carefully observing every detail. On the back wall, right above the figure, a single line of carved text reads:

Long live the god of giving

God of giving, huh?

Something rises in his gut when he realizes the name of this god has been left out, not a trace of it written anywhere on the walls or on the trinkets left behind.

It dawns rather suddenly on him as he tries to name the feeling, something oddly familiar about the situation of a god so beloved also being so quickly forgotten.

This wasn’t a god the people worshiped, this was a god the people used.

The decaying gifts ring hollow under Wash’s revelation, the statue, while still beautiful, humming with a new sense of entrapment and sadness. By the state of the temple, it seems like this god ran out of things to give, abused and rung out for all he was worth until he stopped being useful.

Wash has seen it before, watched people beg for favors, for miracles, for the impossible, only to ditch their god the minute they receive their blessing, never even giving thanks, only ever coming back to ask for something else. He’s seen temples be built, be full and then be torn down and left for ruin in a matter of months.

He usually doesn’t care, doesn’t pay enough mind to all the new gods coming and going. He really only prays and worships out of habit, a polite set of manners that have been engraved into his soul (and he doesn’t have a death wish. There are certain gods willing to kill if you disrespect their temple or their people).

But there’s something about this statue, about this god of giving, that makes Wash wonder if maybe he’s a spiritual man after all.

“I would’ve never stopped worshiping you.” He whispers to himself, slowly getting on his knees and reaching up to cradle the underside of the statue's hand.

“I would’ve given you everything. Lose myself by offering you all I am. Maybe it’s a good thing you’re gone because…

Because I think I would’ve given you all my love.”

“Is that a promise?”

Wash turns to face the voice, his sword already unsheathed and ready to cut down the intruder—

Oh. Oh shit.

“You— You’re—“

“Lavernius Tucker, god of giving. Pleasure to meet you.” The man smiles brightly, the same warm and mischievous one depicted on his statue.

Wash eyes widen as he snaps to look back and forth from the man and the statue and—

Holy shit.

He’s… smaller than Wash was imagining, not the same plump and soft figured man they carved into the stone. He’s got more angles to him, lean and thin without much mass covering his body. There’s a tired droop in his shoulders, eyes weary and slanted. Wash thinks he’s leaning on a pillar more for support than for seduction.

“Are you alright?” Wash snaps out of his daze, shaking off the shock as his blood bred need to help takes over. He steps towards him, dropping his sword without a second thought in case the god keels over suddenly.

The man—Tucker—seems surprised at the question, standing a little taller as Wash comes forward with the same energy as a mother hen. He lets Wash crowd him, his hands gently skimming over his body for injuries.

“Uh, yeah. I’m okay. Just been a while since anyone has come here, especially someone as… sweetly devoted as you are.” He sways forward into Wash’s touch, his eyes fluttering as he soaks up the blessed affection.

Wash shuffles in his feet but doesn’t pull away. He’s never really met a god before, so he’s not sure what the proper reaction to a god showing favor is. It certainly doesn’t feel right since Wash just got here. “I— I haven’t

even worshiped you before.”

“Mmm, but I can practically taste it off you.” Tucker traces his hands over Wash’s chest until they hang gently on his shoulders, the touch sending shivers up Wash’s spine. “You may have stayed here to hide from the rain, but you didn’t need to say anything to me, didn’t need to pray or give thanks. But you did. You did and now I’m bound to you, my loyal little devotee.”

“Bound to me?”

He nods, giggling as he pushes himself closer to Wash to clasp his hands behind his neck. “You’re my only follower now, silly. You’re the one whose belief gives me power and with power…” He nudges his nose into Wash’s cheek and Wash can’t help but drop his head to meet him there, something deep in his bones singing as this gorgeous god seeks out his attention.

Tucker practically whimpers at him, resting their foreheads together as Wash moves to place his hands respectfully on his waist. He’s shaking, Wash notes, possibly from years left neglected and bound to this fragmented temple.

He breathes in deep and slow, savoring the feeling of being so carefully worshiped, something he’s never had in all his centuries of existence.

“With power,” He continues, “I can give you anything you want, just say the word.”

Right, god of giving. Probably thinks that Wash’s affections are an offering in turn for a wish or a miracle. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth, but he doesn’t want to seem rude or ungrateful to this fragile looking god. He deserves to be worshiped, to be loved and respected, his name sung in glory by all those who follow him.

Wash makes his choice.

“What if I just want you?”

Tucker startles at that, shock evident on his face. Wash keeps his face serious, not a single bit of doubt or hesitation to be found. He wants this, wants him, whatever that means.

His god seems to drop at that, like a puppet without its strings. He practically glows when he smiles again, something so much more genuine and happy then the one he had before, the one that’s immortalized on his statue.

Wash thinks that this is the Tucker that they should've worshiped all those years ago. Tucker kisses his cheek, a submissive little thing that has Wash heating from his cheeks to his shoulders, and proudly proclaims to Wash—

“Then I’m yours.”

Part 2

[emhasthoughts]

Gertrude and the cat-avatars

Summary: Gertrude let one cat in. Said cat has a habit of bringing in other cats.

A/N: During @dcartcorner's stream the topic of avatars as cats came up and I decided to write a little something for it. I have another part with the Distortions that might be posted later. Also worth noting: I do not own a cat, never have, I'm horrible with cat breeds, so I've tried to describe Simon/Peter/Elias through this art and Mike's look is taken from this

Lastly: Not beta read by someone else, just me and my lil google document.

Pt 1, You're here! / Pt 2, Michael and Helen Distortion, Agnes / Pt 3, Annabelle, Jude, Oliver / Pt 4, John, Jane, Maxwell, Manuela / Pt 5, Jon, Martin, Sasha, Tim / Pt 6, Melanie, Daisy, Basira, Georgie / Pt 7, Jared, Gerry, Nikola / Bonus, a visit to the vet / Halloween bonus!

Simon was the first cat she actually adopted. It had been one of her coworkers who had wanted to get rid of him due to their financial situation and asked Gertrude about it. Claiming that he was old and an inside cat, easy to take care of. She had agreed. Thinking it would be easy and that, in the worst case, Simon would not live for long after getting him. She could not have been more wrong.

Sometimes he could have passed as a kitten. Rather small for what he was meant to be, thin despite the amount of food he ate, his gray fur was not fluffy enough to hide how thin he could look. Despite it all, the veterinarian had claimed him healthy. He was also not that much of an indoor cat. Sometimes, whenever he felt like it, he would wander out of the house, sometimes gone for days. Gertrude did not mind it that much. He was a rather loud and talkative cat after all.

Simon also had a habit of getting more cats to her doorstep. 

One day she opened the door to see small Simon standing proudly in the middle of two new cats. One looked nearly ridiculous next to him. Light beige and at least three times bigger and fluffier, with yellow eyes that sort of made it look like he did not want to be there. To the other side was a mainly brown cat, who seemed to be in a perfect middle of size and fluff. A bit of white around the eyes, nose, stomach and paws. He looked at her with judgemental green eyes and for a moment she worried if a cat could actually see into someone’s soul. Since they kept coming back she had named the two Peter, the fluffy cat and the other Elias.

Peter came and went. Similarly to Simon, he could be gone for days, maybe even weeks. Whenever he was home he was with Elias and/or Simon, being quiet and calm. Elias was probably the most judgemental cat she had ever come across. He was not really loud or overly talkative, but he could spend hours in a corner just looking at her without blinking. It was a bit creepy and sometimes it felt like he was secretly planning to kill her in her sleep.

Four months ago Simon was gone for a week, only to come back in with a very disgruntled cat. Looking rather similar to Peter, though smaller, thinner bit of brown around the eyes, paws, tip of ears and tail, including a branching scar most visible on the back. Despite the cat not being a small kitten, Simon still managed to drag them there. The cat had seemingly accepted its fate, making Gertrude question how far from home they were.

She had taken the cat to a veterinarian the day after. It was a male, named Mike, who had once belonged to a couple that passed two years before in a house fire. The scar was older, though it had gotten infected over the two years. She had gotten more of a rundown of everything that was wrong with Mike and she planned to simply let him up for adoption, except Simon did not seem to leave Mike’s side. So, Gertrude accepted Mike in. If only until he was healthy again, by then Simon would hopefully be over it. 

Since then Gertrude had tried to throw Mike back on the streets while Simon was away. Except the pair kept coming back. Which caused her current situation. Sitting on her sofa, trying to watch TV, except she found herself staring at Mike, who had made himself comfortable on the shelf next to a vase, glaring back at her. His paw slowly raising towards the vase, never breaking eye contact. Gertrude narrowed her eyes. Until -

There was no crash. The vase was no longer on the shelf but it was also not shattered on the ground. Her eyes did not leave the falling - flying? - vase. It did not really stop the small cat from glaring at her. 

Gertrude had no real clue how long it was like that. The vase floating on the spot, her looking at the vase and Mike glaring at her. Like a picture, frozen in time. At least until -

CRASH

Well fuck.