#and he now pulls the strings on everything

[rafecameronssl4t]

The weight of expectations || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: I know you guys wanted more soft moments between Rafe and reader in this au so here you go!!!

Warnings: nothing!

Word count: 1,532

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The dimly lit office in the Cameron building had always carried an air of prestige, a reminder of the empire Ward Cameron had built with his own hands. But now, Rafe sat behind the polished mahogany desk, feeling the weight of that legacy pressing down on his shoulders.

His reflection in the window—sharp suit, tired eyes, jaw clenched—was one of a man constantly battling his own demons. Rafe’s phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts. The meeting with Mr. Cartwright was scheduled for five minutes ago, but knowing Cartwright, he would make him wait a little longer just to make a point.

Rafe’s lip twitched in annoyance. This was supposed to be simple—sign the deal, deliver, and collect the reward. But like everything in his life lately, nothing was as easy as it seemed. As if on cue, the heavy doors creaked open, and Mr. Cartwright strode in, his presence filling the room with the unmistakable arrogance of someone who thought he could toy with the Camerons.

Rafe hated men like him. Cartwright was older, maybe late forties, with graying hair slicked back and a suit so tailored it made a statement by itself. Still, Cartwright had power, and Rafe knew they needed him for this deal. Rafe’s eyes narrowed, but he stood, gesturing to the chair across from him. “You’re late.”

Cartwright smirked, unbothered. “You’ve got nothing but time, Cameron.” Rafe resisted the urge to slam his fist on the table. The conversation turned cold quickly, escalating from subtle jabs to outright confrontation as Cartwright slammed his hand on the desk. “This wasn’t the outcome we agreed on, Cameron. I expected the deal to be completed two weeks ago.”

Rafe gritted his teeth, leaning back in his chair, trying to play it cool. Cartwright was testing him, seeing if Rafe would break under pressure. “Things take time, Cartwright. We’re working on it. You can’t expect a project this size to wrap up overnight.” But Cartwright wasn’t having it.

“I expected results, not excuses. I trusted your family’s name—your father’s name—when I signed on to this. Now, you’re telling me I just need to ‘wait’? My investors don’t have time for your delays.” Rafe’s jaw tightens, but he leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “I think you forget I was my father’s protégé, and now I’m handling the business. You underestimate me.”

“I don’t care what your investors think. The timelines shifted, and there’s nothing anyone can do about that. We’ll deliver, but on our schedule, not yours.” Mr. Cartwright slams his hand down on the table, eyes narrowing. “Your schedule is putting my reputation on the line. I’m not some small-time client you can string along. My name holds weight, and if your company can’t keep up, I’ll take my business elsewhere.”

Rafe’s eyes flicker with irritation, but he maintains his composure, though his tone becomes icier. “You’re not going anywhere, and we both know that.” He leans forward, his stare sharp. “You’ve invested too much in this project to pull out now. So let’s stop pretending you have the upper hand here.”

Mr. Cartwright scoffs, clearly insulted. “Your father knew how to handle his business. You, on the other hand, seem more interested in playing house with your perfect little wife and children than focusing on the deals that matter.” The mention of you brought heat rising to Rafe’s face.

His jaw clenched as he fought to control his temper. The comment hit too close to home. Cartwright had no idea what his marriage was like, the public façade they upheld, the tangled mess of feelings that simmered beneath the surface. “Mention my wife again, and you’ll regret it,” Rafe spat, his voice low and dangerous.

Cartwright just smirked. “Touchy subject, huh? Maybe if you focused on the business instead of her, this deal wouldn’t be falling apart.” That did it. Rafe was out of his chair, leaning over the desk, his eyes flashing with barely controlled rage. “You don’t get to talk about her. You signed the contract. You’ll get what we promised, but on our terms.”

“If you’re too much of a coward to stick it out, then fine—walk away. But you’re not going to find anyone better than me in this industry, and you know it.” The room was tense, their stares locked in a silent battle of wills. Cartwright didn’t budge. Instead, he straightened his suit jacket, his mouth set in a hard line.

“I’ll give you one month, Cameron. If this doesn’t turn around by then, I’ll make sure everyone knows how your family is crumbling—starting with you. Rafe forced himself to relax, stepping back from the desk, his smirk returning, though there was no warmth behind it. “One month. You’ll get your results. But you don’t scare me, Cartwright. Cross me, and you’ll regret it.”

With one final glance, Cartwright turned on his heel and stormed out of the office, leaving Rafe standing alone, the weight of the confrontation settling over him. He ran a hand through his hair, muttering a string of curses under his breath.

~

It was nearing 8 p.m. when Rafe pulled into the driveway, his mind still buzzing from the heated argument with Cartwright. He had no doubt he could deliver on the deal—he always found a way. But tonight, Cartwright’s words had gotten under his skin in a way that lingered, like a dull throb at the back of his mind.

The quiet of the house was almost unsettling as he stepped inside, the weight of the day’s events hanging heavily on his shoulders. Making his way upstairs, Rafe entered the bedroom, immediately spotting you on the bed, nursing Leo. Your eyes were closed, head leaned back against the headboard, one hand gently patting Leo’s back as he fed contentedly.

Rafe sighed, running a hand over his face, feeling the tension in his body slowly begin to ease. As complicated as things were between you, there was an undeniable comfort in your presence—an unspoken understanding that neither of you acknowledged but both felt. Rafe quietly crossed the room, his gaze softening as he approached.

Leo’s wide eyes met his, curious and bright. Rafe couldn’t help but smile, reaching out to gently stroke his son’s cheek. Leo’s tiny hand immediately grasped Rafe’s finger, holding on tight. A warmth spread through Rafe’s chest, and for a moment, the stress of the day melted away. His eyes shifted back to you.

Your breathing was calm, features relaxed in a way that made you look at peace, despite everything swirling around your lives. There was something soothing about the scene in front of him—something grounding. Leo’s eyes never left Rafe, watching his father with that same innocent curiosity. “Tough day?” Your voice, soft but alert, broke the silence.

Rafe’s gaze snapped up, meeting your half-lidded eyes as you watched him, though you hadn’t moved. He straightened, clearing his throat as he walked to the dresser, his back turned to you. “Just another asshole trying to tell me how to run my business,” he muttered, slipping off his watch and setting it down with more force than necessary.

“Cartwright’s testing me,” Rafe continued, running a hand through his hair before heading turned back around, leaning against the dresser. “Thinks I’m not my father.” Your gaze softened as you watched him. “You’re not your father, Rafe. And that’s not a bad thing.”

His blue eyes searched yours, trying to figure out if you truly meant it. There was a sincerity there, a quiet support that he wasn’t used to. It disarmed him for a moment, making him pause as he watched you with a curiosity that mirrored his son’s. The way you moved so naturally—so gracefully—as you gently lifted Leo and placed him in his bassinet beside the bed was a sight he found himself quietly admiring.

A soft sigh left your lips as you tucked him in, smoothing the blankets before slipping back beneath the sheets. You glanced up at him, still leaning against the dresser, lost in thought. “Are you going to get ready for bed?” you asked, your voice soft but carrying that calm tone you always seemed to have when it came to him.

There was no pressure, just a simple question, but it tugged at something deeper within Rafe. He cleared his throat, standing up a little straighter. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec,” he muttered, his voice low as he turned back to the dresser, his fingers absently fiddling with the cufflinks on his shirt.

But he didn’t move right away. Instead, he stood there for a moment longer, watching you settle into the bed, the quiet intimacy of the moment wrapping around him like a comfort he hadn’t realised he needed. Despite the chaos that always seemed to swirl around them—around him—there was a strange sense of peace in this room, in this space they shared.

Even if it wasn’t always easy, even if things between them were complicated, there was something grounding in the quiet moments like these. And as much as Rafe hated to admit it, those moments were starting to mean more to him than he had ever expected.

[daengtokki]

Kim Seungmin/gn!reader

wc: ~2.7k

rating: mildly angsty cheesy fluff (idiot enemies to lovers)

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ happy (belated) birthday to @thackery-blinks and our Seungmo ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“I don't wanna see him...I don't like him, I think I hate him”

you what?

If anyone were in the room with you, they definitely would have heard her booming voice coming through the phone. You have to pull it away from your ear for a moment, but that’s all she has to say. For now.

“I said…” you rub your ringing ear and turn the volume down. “I said I hate him.”

hate is a big word, I'm not sure he deserves that

“He’s arrogant, and he's rude to me. Don’t pretend you’ve suddenly forgotten.”

you’re hyper-fixating…and maybe a little jealous because he’s cute and funny around everyone else. and he’s not rude, he can’t be rude if he never says anything to you

You can hear her laugh even though she moves away from the phone.

“Are you trying to piss me off? I’ll stay home tonight, and you know that’s not just a threat.” You will. You hate going out at the last minute almost as much as you can’t stand Kim Seungmin. “...such an asshole.”

excuse me??

“Not you, shut up”

he has a weird sense of humor…c’mon, you know what this is, right?

“Yeah. A congrats slash going away party for our favorite touchy kissy couple. Is it awful that I’m relieved I won’t have to be subjected to any more of their over-the-top pda?”

no, I won’t miss it…but you’re also chronically angry and single, so you might be more relieved—but that’s not what I was I referring to

“I’m ready, are you on your way?”

yeah, this lights been red for ten minutes, I swear…what’s with the selective hearing tonight? I’m coming in to make sure you’re dressed right so don’t wait for me outside

“I hear you, I just don’t wanna listen to your ‘Seungmin actually likes you’ theory again”

my hypothesis…I need more evidence

/ / /

She’s quiet for the first ten minutes of the drive, only because a perfect string of songs pop up on the playlist, but as soon as it ends, she turns the volume down…

“Are you ready to hear this?”

“No”

“Alright, so there’s literally no reason…none at all for Seungmin to not like you, or be weird around you, or less talkative, or just walk away when you enter the room”

“But he does all of those things”

“Right. Do you not read romance novels? Fanfiction?”

“What kind of fanfiction are you reading?”

She’s already exhausted of your aloofness…or just your refusal to accept anything more than what’s already in your head. But you’ve known him, known of him, for a few months now. He doesn’t give you anything aside from what you catch when he’s with others. You’re invisible when he’s in the room, and the more you think about it, the shittier you feel.

“Hello, you good? You might not read fanfiction, but you’re staring out of that window like the protagonist in very sad story. No, antagonist. You’re my antagonist.”

“I am not,” you sigh. Everything suddenly feels very heavy, and maybe it’s because you know you’re almost there.

“There wasn’t much fight in that. You better perk up, we’re almost there.”

/ / /

The first thing you see is him, and it’s not because you’re looking. Seungmin is leaning against the staircase bannister, arms folded loosely over his sweatshirt. He’s less than ten feet away when the two of you walk in the door, but he doesn’t move, and he doesn’t turn his head out of curiosity. You’re surprised he doesn’t sense your presence and walk away.

“Sorry we’re late,” she says, making sure to gently shove you forward in his direction. “But we brought gifts!”

Now Seungmin looks at the two of you. First his eyes land on her, but they quickly dart in your direction, and they linger much longer than you expect. As much as you don’t want to scare him off, you take the rare moment to look at him from such a small distance—just his eyes, though.

“It’s us, we’re the gifts”

Seungmin clears his throat and takes his leave, just like you expect.

“Well, go after him”

“Why would I go after him? Please, give it a rest…I’m already tired.”

“Okay, okay…I’m sorry. Are you good?”

“No.” They’re angry tears, but nobody else knows that. "Not really." To the other eight people in the room, tears are tears, and you don’t want them seeing you, but it's too much to hold back. “I need a minute.”

You shove through her and the next arriving couple on your way outside, but you didn’t really think beyond this. It’s cold out, and you’re not really dressed to sit around by the water, but that’s where you head on instinct. It’s empty back here, which is what you need right now, and the cool air on your warm, red, tear-streaked face. Why are you even crying? Nothing has happened, not really. Seungmin looked at you, and his stupid brown eyes sparkled and grew as they watched you for far too long. Why did he have to look at you like that?

The gazebo is what you typically claim when you’re back here. That’s where you go. It’s not exactly comfortable, but it’s pretty, and it keeps you mostly hidden from anyone looking out from the house.

A text message buzzes, but you take your time pulling it out and checking. All it’s going to be is someone, your friend, looking for you.

come back inside

“I’ll think about it” …you reply.

he never came back in the room, if that makes you feel better

“It doesn’t”

You get a few more minutes of peace and quiet, but you’ll admit that you’re already getting cold sitting out here. The wind is coming off of the lake and right at you, and every time a stray tear falls, it feels like it might freeze. This won't accomplish anything, you know that, but hiding from everything is so much easier. You might hate yourself for it later, but right now you feel good in the chilly air.

And then there's a crunch of footsteps. You ignore it. Someone has found you, but that doesn’t mean you’re getting up and going with them that easily. You've already decided this is where you belong right now, and you'll stick to that until you're dragged back inside. The footsteps stop...whoever it is doesn’t speak, though. There's only the sound of something being dropped close to you ear, and the footsteps start to retreat almost immediately.

It’s a coat, draped neatly on the railing. A black cotton one that looks vaguely familiar, and when you turn a little more, you remember when you saw him wearing it last.

“Wait!”

You almost trip as you get to your feet, and you’re glad he hasn’t turned to see you yet. But he does—he stops and turns. He looks like he wants to keep walking, though, and he does…Seungmin takes a few more slow steps backward as he watches you grab the jacket and hold it against your chest. His scent reaches your nose. You’ve never been close enough to him to know it, but now you do.

There’s nothing to say, though. You have nothing to say to him, or you do and you just don’t know how to put the words together.

Seungmin stops, and then takes two steps toward you. Is he having fun? Is he just playing with you? Tears start to brim again, and luckily he’s not close enough to see it. If you don’t figure out your next move, he’ll turn and leave and you might not get this much attention from him again.

“Did she make you come out here?”

“Make me? No, nobody makes me do anything.”

You’re glad he’s not close enough to see you roll your eyes. “Then what’s this for?” You look at his jacket, and when you look back to him, he’s taking two more big steps toward you.

“It’s cold.” He says flatly, and maybe waits for your response that never comes. “I saw you walking out from the bathroom window. By yourself.”

“And?”

Are you making him uncomfortable? He looks like he doesn’t know how to answer for his actions, and maybe he doesn’t. He’s never concerned himself with your actions before, but you also never do anything to bring attention to yourself. This was an overreaction on your part.

“And…"

Uncomfortable, maybe. Confused…probably. Maybe you should kick him while he’s stumbling over himself. “Why are you concerned with how cold I am?”

Two more steps, and now he can definitely see your puffy face. “Sorry, I'll leave you alone."

He can’t be serious. Does he want you to explain this to him? The look on his face does seem a little helpless, and you’ve never seen him look anything but sure of himself.

“This is the second time you’ve spoken to me in months.” This is also the first time you’ve been alone with him for more than a few moments.

“That's because you always seem to be pissed off. You always look angry when I see you. You don't right now...you looked upset when you walked through the door a little bit ago.

Your eyes drop to the ground in front of him, and you have to work hard to relax the scowl on your face. “I’m not angry.”

"So I never tried talking to you. I assumed you didn't want to, since you never spoke to me, either."

The first time the two of you met, you exchanged a brief hello, and that was that. You remember it very well. Seungmin took your hand in his and squeezed it so softly. His eyes were intense, but warm, and now you’re wondering if you were wearing your scowl when you first looked at him. Why could you have?

“Put the coat on, please”

You’re shivering. So is he. Seungmin takes one more step and grabs the baluster, and you think he’s going to come up here with you, but he doesn’t. You let go of the coat and finally swing it around your shoulders. The scent coming from it makes your knees weak.

“Thank you”

This time he steps up, and he’s at your level. Above it, actually. He’s looking down on you, and every bit of space closed between you makes you feel even weaker. Stupid, so stupid. Nothing is even happening. He’s just standing there, looking at you drowning in his warm jacket. You could curl up on the ground and fall asleep in all this warmth, but his stare is making you anxious.

“You look mad again”

“I’m not,” you pounce, and you force yourself to relax again. “I’m not mad. I…I’m just...”

“I have witnessed you smiling and laughing…not with me, but I always wondered why I couldn’t do it. I can never get anything from you.”

The conversation doesn’t feel real, but it’s real enough for the party guests—a few of them peer out through the kitchen window, thinking they’re being discreet.

Seungmin has made you laugh before, but only in your head. And he’s made you smile, too…as you’re drifting to sleep and thinking of him doing exactly what he’s doing right now.

“You do make me laugh”

“I do?”

“Yeah, don’t tell anyone I said that”

You make him laugh—Seungmin actually laughs, genuinely, and it sounds so much nicer than any laugh you’ve heard from him before.

“That’s not fair. They see you making me laugh right now.”

They do. Three people are by the patio door, probably wondering why he isn’t in there charming everyone. You managed to steal him away, and you wonder how long you can keep him out here with you despite your numb face.

“We should go back in, it’s cold. You’re cold.”

“I’m fine. I really didn’t wanna come tonight anyway, so being out here is better.”

“You’d rather stand out in the cold by yourself than hang out with everyone?”

“I’m not by myself”

He laughs under his breath, but his smile is a little bit wider. “So you’d rather stand out here with me than enjoy the party?”

Yes, you don’t say it out loud. How could you? The way you’ve played up your hatred for him to others, and your indifference to his face since you’ve met. It’s a little embarrassing. But it’s painful being around Seungmin…pretending you’re not upset every time you’re dragged to group outing is exhausting.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes unless you say otherwise”

Perfect. Saying nothing should be easy, but this time you open your mouth. “I can’t pretend I’m happy when I’m not.”

“You don’t have to”

“But I put on a mask when you’re around and make everyone think I’m unhappy, even when I’m not”

“You’re not?”

“I mean…I am, because you leave the room every time I walk in. But I’m not, because you’re still around, somewhere…and maybe I still have a chance.”

“A chance. So you don’t hate me?”

“No, but I don't want to get my heart broken," why are you spilling your guts to him? "So we should just go back to how things were before.” The words are just falling out of you, and looking at him like this and being with him, finally alone, makes you want to keep going until there's nothing left.

“No, we shouldn't. And I don't want mine broken, either.”

Seungmin is in front of you now, blocking you from everyone still hanging around the window. They seemed to be getting bored watching the two of you talk and do nothing else, so you at least feel like you’re alone with him again.

He reaches toward you, and you jump.

“Sorry,” he whispers and pulls at the collar of the jacket, “but if you’re not going inside,” and bends to connect and pull the zipper until it’s closed up to your chin.

You’re sure you look ridiculous in it—it’s already a little bit big on him. And no, you don’t want to go back in, because the thought of everyone staring at the two of you as you finally return…

“No, I’d rather go home”

“I can take you home”

“Everyone is in there waiting for you”

“The party will still be here when I get back”

“I don’t know you very well.” You pull the zipper down a few inches. “At all, actually.”

“Oh, you don’t want me to take you home?” He smirks. “That’s very smart and safe of you. I could be a serial killer for all you know.”

“I mean I don’t know enough about you to…ya know, like you as much as I do”

He laughs again…just a sweet, maybe a little embarrassed giggle. “So you do?”

“What?”

Seungmin is blushing. You’ve seen him do this before; the blush, the giggle, and the smile so big you thought his face would crack every time a someone flirted with him. It was hard to hide then—that horrible sinking feeling in your gut when you thought he might leave with one of them. But now he’s blushing for you, and nobody else.

“You've been skirting around the words the entire conversation, and you have to spell things out for me sometimes. I didn’t wanna make a move until you said it."

“Said what, that I want you?"

“Wow…yeah, if you wanna put it like that. You want me,” he laughs again, “I guess I want you, too.”

“Make a move, please.” You whisper through your chattering teeth, and turn your head as your heart threatens to jump right out of your chest.

“Please?” Seungmin smirks pulls the zipper down a bit more, enough that you catch the cold breeze on your neck and chest. And then he’s there, lips an inch from yours, and he stares. “Please.”

You close the space between you, cautiously press your lips to his. His return is just as hesitant, and you’re surprised at his shyness. The zipper comes down even more, and Seungmin doesn’t stop until the coat falls open again—now he has somewhere to put his arms. They disappear inside, and he squeezes tight and deepens the kiss. He kisses like you expected him to, mouth open, tongue gently asking to be let in, and you let him in. You’re finally warm again, and you’d like to be even warmer.

“Seungmin?” You touch his neck, and his skin is hot against your cold hands, but it doesn’t faze him. His mouth quiets you when you think of speaking again, and it pains you to pull him off of you.

“What is it?”

“I don’t want an audience”

He turns and sees the group of guests gathered near patio doors; his friends, yours…all either watching or pretending not to watch the show you two are putting on.

“You just want me, yeah?" His eyes sparkle as if he can do it on command.

“Just you.” Your teeth chatter again, no matter how hard you try to stop it.

“I don’t mind ditching them for a few hours”

“You don't?”

“Not if you wanna get warmed up"

[yeo-hee]

— i don’t even know your name • lee heeseung

“then the crowd came, and pulled you away.”

— meeting each other at a party after a small mistake causing you to splash your drink over your white dress, you find yourself attracted to the stranger — lost in conversation with him. only, you’re pulled away by your best friend before you get to know each others names.

warnings: slightly strong language, mentions of alcohol & nicotine, reader is mad at first.

wc: 3.8k.

not proofread.

“COME on, Y/N, it’ll be fun! And I’ll be right there with you the whole time.” Was what your best friend said two hours prior to dragging you into the frat house. Only, now you were standing alone, lost in the mix of unfamiliar faces as you recalled the moment your friend got swept away by the likes of a guy she deemed cute enough to flirt with.

The smell of alcohol lingered in the air, sweaty bodies mixed together in the center of the room, jumping around and singing screaming along to the lyrics of whatever popular, upbeat song blared through the large speakers set up against a wall.

You felt suffocated, first and foremost, as you tugged the skirt to your dress down — one you had long tucked away into the depths of your rather messy closet only to be rediscovered in a hurry of choosing something to wear for the night.

Parties were not everything they seemed to be, nothing like the typical college party you’d see on screen. Unfortunately, your dreams of living a romanticized university life were long crushed as you were faced with the unbearing reality of being drowned in studies and such.

You clutched the can of cheap beer to your chest, a hand covering the top of it as you pushed through a sea of people, brows subconsciously curved inward until you pushed the doors to a balcony open — a rush of the chilly, autumn night air spreading goosebumps over your exposed skin before you quickly adapted to the change of temperature.

The balcony was lonesome, if not for the couple that was making out before shooting you a dirty look and leaving you by yourself. Not that you were complaining, of course.

A light breeze from the few trees that lined the streets brushed through your hair, blowing it behind your shoulders as you leaned up against the railing. You held your can of beer in your hand loosely, occasionally bringing it to your lips to take small sips.

Behind you, interrupting the muffled music through the thick glass of the balcony door, the song playing inside became clearer to your ears as you could hear a rush of footsteps stumble.

At the abrupt commotion, you turned around only to collide with a hard chest as the remainder of your beer jumped out of the can, staining the white color of your dress. A gasp fell from your lips, surprise evident in your widened eyes and your jaw hung slightly ajar upon the cold feeling of the liquid sticking the fabric of your dress to your skin.

“What the hell?” You let out naturally, as a string of curses filled your ears — whoever you had bumped into backing up as your eyes landed on his bowing figure.

As he lifted his head, you met his gaze. His cheeks were flushed in embarrassment, doe eyes open wide as he stared at you apologetically.

“Shit, I’m so sorry. Are you alright? I didn’t mean to.” He rushed out; frantic, flustered hands waving nervously around in the air in front of you.

Masked with frustration especially because you didn’t even want to come to the party tonight in the first place, you paid no mind to him as you peered down at the wet fabric that clung to your body around your neckline. It was uncomfortable, and sticky. Now reeking of the intoxicating smell of alcohol.

“Listen, I’m really sorry. My friends and I were messing around, and they thought it’d be funny to push me out here and I kinda stumbled and then.. boom. I bumped into you. It was a mistake, really.” The boy pleaded his case, as your gaze shifted up.

“Imaginary friends?” You huffed, referring to the fact that you were the only two left outside, making it to be as if he was a liar. “Whatever, man.” You sighed out, shaking your head as you furrowed your brows, setting the now empty can of beer on the top of the thick wood railing.

Heeseung peered over his shoulder, muttering a string of curses to himself as he ran his fingers through his hair. “I know this doesn’t help my case that my friends ditched me. But, you’ve gotta believe me. That’s really what happened.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, crossing your arms tightly over your chest as you stared at him with boredom evident in your eyes.

“I’m sorry about your drink. Can I get you another one?” He asked hesitantly, as you shot him a look. One filled with mild annoyance and disgust.

“Did you seriously pull this shit just to get me a drink?” You inquired, watching as he panicked, a groan slipping past his lips as he ran a hand over his face, shaking his head frantically.

“God, no, I’m not an asshole. I understand this whole thing looks really, really bad on my part. And I can also understand why you don’t believe me. But I swear on my life, I’m telling the truth and I would never do anything like that on purpose.” The boy expressed deeply, hands together in a pleading motion.

You watched him curiously, eyes narrowed before you nodded your head, simply going along with his story. Only due to the fact that he seemed to be genuinely apologetic. “Okay. Sure.” You let out, giving in as you maintained distance from him.

“I don’t want another drink, anyway.” You added on, answering his prior question. He blinked, and nodded his head in understanding, letting out a hum that you couldn’t even hear over the muffled noise coming from inside.

“Okay. That’s fine. Can you at least let me get you something to dry up?” Heeseung requested, as you paused momentarily, thinking for a moment.

“I’ll be quick. I promise.” He added on quietly, clearing his throat. With a sigh, you muttered a reply in agreement as you felt uncomfortable with the feeling of the wet fabric.

With that, the unfamiliar boy hurried back inside. To be quite honest, you didn’t exactly expect him to return. Not too trusting in a stranger at all, so you assumed that he would just disappear into the party without much care for the disturbance caused partially by him. It wasn’t very often at all that you’d meet someone with decency in the late hours of a college party of all places.

In fact, you never had before.

Instead of anticipating his return, you spun back around to face the view of the streets — staring down at the shine of the wet pavement as it had rained earlier on in the night.

You propped your chin up in the palm of your hand, listening to the muffled lyrics of another random song made in the early 2000’s, familiarity found within the lyrics as you huffed out a small laugh.

Almost ten minutes passed, before the balcony doors behind you creaked open. You turned to glance over your shoulder, pleasantly surprised that the same boy from before did in fact return.

“Sorry it took so long. Was hard to find a bathroom that wasn’t occupied.” He claimed with a chuckle. He stood a short distance from you, not growing too close in hopes to not make you uncomfortable — especially given you two had started on the wrong foot already.

Heeseung extended his hand out to you, one that held a hand towel he had stolen from the drawers of a random bathroom he had stumbled upon as he wandered lostly through the house.

With a bit of reluctance, you accepted the piece of cloth into your hands, propping yourself back up against the railing. “Thank you.” You muttered, expression having relaxed along with your tone of voice.

He nodded quietly in return, wandered to the other side of the balcony as he leaned up against it, a distance away from you to give you your space as he spoke up in response. “No problem. It’s the least I could do.”

You hummed quietly, a gentle noise only you could hear. You dabbed the towel along your skin, squeezing the fabric of your dress between it to hopefully dry out the liquid that soaked into it. As you let out a sigh, the boy peered over at you, guilt etched across his features and in his eyes.

“I’m sorry about your dress.” Heeseung apologized for the nth time that night, referring to the light beige stain that settled into the originally white fabric. Made from the beer that had splashed up and onto you upon the collision you made with him.

You looked over at him, settling the hand towel onto the railing next to your empty can. You had managed to dry it as much as possible, no longer feeling that icky sensation of wet clothing over your skin.

“I don’t know how much a dress like that would be, and I only brought fifty dollars with me tonight. Didn’t wanna accidentally lose my wallet and end up losing everything, you know? But if fifty dollars can help with the cost, I will gladly give it to you.” The boy offered, fishing into the pocket of the trousers he wore to pull out his wallet.

“Or, I mean, I also have Apple Pay. So we can do that, too.” He continued on, remembering the useful digital service. You breathed out a small laugh, shaking your head off to the side as you gazed down at your hands, clasped together on top of the railing.

“I don’t want your money. I’m fine.” You declined, waving it off as you gestured for him to put his wallet away. However, he didn’t at first, hesitant as he knew that declining was just the polite thing to do. Clearly, still insistent on replacing it.

“Are you sure? Because I really don’t mind—“

“Positive. Put your money away, please, this is awkward.” You said, shaking your head as you looked back at him. Heeseung smiled sheepishly, chuckling as he nodded reluctantly and shoved the leather wallet back into his pocket.

“I never even wear this thing anyway.” You reasoned calmly, brushing your fingers through your hair as the wind caused it to be slightly disheveled. The boy tilted his head, silently admiring you from a short distance.

“Why not? You look pretty in it.” He complimented, albeit a bit shy as his tone grew softer. You raised a brow, unable to deny the light flutter in your heart as your cheeks flushed pink—causing you to turn your head away.

“Because,” you began, clearing your throat to regain composure. “I bought it at the start of this semester for a party. Ended up going to one, and I hated it. So, I never really cared to wear it again.”

Heeseung nodded his head in understanding, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he pursed his lips. “So, you’re not the party type, then?”

“Not really.” You confessed.

“May I ask why you’re here then?”

“My friend convinced me to go with her since she didn’t wanna go alone. I thought maybe I just had a bad experience the first time around, but now I just remembered why I hated it in the first place.” You voiced out, a light grimace on your face as he smiled and nodded. “And why is that?”

“I don’t even know where to start.” You admitted, a smile crept up onto your lips as you rubbed your temples, finding the whole ordeal to be ridiculous.

“For one, it’s really loud. I can’t think, and it makes my head hurt. It also smells like shit—from the sweat and alcohol and sometimes, nicotine. And don’t even get me started on the couples.” You grumbled, nose scrunched up in annoyance at the end of your sentence.

“Oh, god, yeah. The couples are the absolute worst.” Heeseung agreed, rolling his eyes at the thought. “Most of them have no decency or respect for others. They’re too engrossed with each other to care.” He continued on, shaking his head.

“Exactly. They’re so annoying, right?” You let out a laugh, your eyes brightened slightly as you had subconsciously taken a step closer to the boy, tensed muscles from before relaxing a bit as you grew more and more comfortable in his presence.

Perhaps it was the alcohol you had consumed, settled into a pit of warmth in your stomach, or maybe the dim lighting the moon provided over his features, but he was cute—attractive. And, he seemed like a nice guy. Given, you’d only known him for a few minutes at best. But you couldn’t help but want to get to know him even more.

“You know, one time—I think it was back in high school,” Heeseung began, recalling old memories as he shifted his body to face you, now paying you his full attention as he thought back to a certain time in his life.

“My parents were out of town for the weekend, and my birthday was that same week. So, I stupidly decided to throw a party at my house with the help of my friends. It got out of control, so I stepped upstairs to go into my room to get away from it for a little while.” He explained, pausing as he took a second to take another breath.

“I opened my door and there was some random couple on my bed. Luckily, I got there before they got too far into anything. But it was awkward, because they were making out and didn’t notice me at first. I asked them to leave, and they got all mad and refused. In my own house, at my own party.” He told you, as you snickered and grimaced.

“God, that’d piss me off so bad. At your own party too is insane.” You expressed, voicing your own opinion as he laughed and nodded, brows raised.

“Oh, trust me, I was.” Heeseung smiled softly, arms folded over his chest comfortably. “Never threw a party of my own after that. Only small get-togethers with some trusted friends.”

“I’d imagine. I don’t think I would, either.” You hummed, as he chuckled and only nodded silently. His eyes drifted off to the side, landing on two outdoor chairs set up, a small round table in between.

“Would you like to sit down?” He asked, gesturing with a nod of his head towards the outdoor furniture set up on the balcony. You agreed, joining him as you sat down on the cushioned seats, giving your feet relief from standing in heels for however many hours you’d been there already.

Another hour flew by, and you seemed to really like this boy. You shared laughter together, outcasts to the lovely party happening only a few feet away. Yet, the company you two provided each other was much better than some lousy college party. In both of your opinions, at the very least.

Mind conversation, the balcony doors pushed open, catching your attention as you turned your head over to catch sight of whoever cared to join you. Surprisingly, you were greeted with the sight of your friend—who you had come here with.

As she met your gaze, her eyes relaxed and she let out a sigh of relief, seemingly frantic and excited as she trotted towards you, hands reaching out for you to take as you took them wordlessly, a bit confused.

“There you are! I’ve been calling you for like twenty minutes!” Your friend pointed out, as you flashed an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. I think it’s on silent mode in my purse.” You said, as she pulled you up from your seat. “Is something wrong?” You questioned, to which she shook her head with a bright smile.

“No. But you’ll never guess who I just ran into!” She exclaimed happily, squeezing your hands as she informed you of the old mutual friend of yours, one you hadn’t seen in a year or two now.

Beckoning you on with her to say hi, you had no other choice as you quickly swept your purse up from the ground, tugging the strap over your shoulder as she pulled you along with her.

You turned your head back over your shoulder to meet his gaze, as he waved you goodbye, a soft laugh falling from his lips as you shouted out a goodbye.

“Bye! It was nice talking to you!” You called out, before you focused on the path ahead of you as you held onto your friend's hand, not wanting to lose each other in the crowds inside.

“What happened to your dress? And who was that?” Your friend asked you curiously, to which you promised to explain later when in a quieter place.

___________________________________________

A week had passed, and you two never saw each other since. The night was a blur, yet the memory of you was clear to Lee Heeseung.

It was driving him insane; how he knew so much about you from the tipsy conversation you both shared on the balcony. Yet, he didn’t even know your name. You were quite literally the prettiest and funniest person he’d ever met, your company the best he’s ever had. And to think he possibly screwed that up by forgetting to ask something as basic as your name, or any contact information at all was driving him nuts.

He could almost laugh each time he thought back to you, how embarrassed he was when he had bumped into you. How nervous he was, because you were just so pretty—yet thanks to the foolish nature of his friends, he screwed up and accidentally made you upset.

He was thankful, yet surprised when you began to warm up to him. Sharing a casual exchange of words after he had retrieved that towel for you. Soon enough, mere words turned into a full blown conversation. Discussing the most random things, and telling each other dumb stories from childhood, or some that occurred more recently.

Heeseung wondered, did you remember him? Were you as stuck on him as he was with you? Did you think about him often, too? Regretting the wasted chances at becoming something more, becoming something outside the party.

Currently, he stood on one of the pathways on campus, AirPods in as he stared down at his phone — checking his schedule for the day, having already forgotten which class he’d have to be in next.

Only, his arm jolted to the side, nearly dropping his phone in the process. He spun around, turning to address whoever had bumped into him. Only, his eyes widened in surprise as he met your familiar gaze, relief and nerves rushed over him as a smile subconsciously spread across his features.

In a flash, he had taken out his AirPods, shoving them into his pockets. Dangerous, considering how often he lost them. In fact, he was on his seventh pair. Crazy, he knew, but he couldn’t help but to misplace them. They were just too small not to lose.

“It’s you again!” He exclaimed, blinking repeatedly as if to wake up from a dream. As if he was imagining your figure standing in front of him, just as embarrassed to bump into him as he was that night.

“Sorry about that. Wasn’t looking where I was going.” You apologized with a laugh, your eyes brightened as the rays of the afternoon sun shined down on you, casting a golden hue over your skin.

“We’ve gotta stop bumping into each other like this.” You added on, to which his smile only grew bigger—if even possible. He laughed, doe eyes curved into two small crescents as he nodded.

“Right.” He let out in agreement, relieved to be able to see you again. “So you do remember me?”

“Of course I do.” You hummed, arms folded over your chest as you looked back at him curiously. “How could I forget? We shared some pretty deep conversations that night, you know. Especially since we had only just met.” You chuckled.

“True, true.” Heeseung accepted, threading his fingers through his hair. “How’s your dress?”

“Oh! The dress, right. The stain came out after a wash and a soak in some oxiclean. I didn’t need a replacement at all.” You informed him, as he smiled and sighed in relief, nodding.

“Oh, thank god. I know you told me it was okay, but I still felt bad. I mean, I was the reason you stained it in the first place.” He expressed sheepishly, as you simply shrugged it off.

“Even if the stain didn’t come out, like I said before, I never wear the dress anyway. If anything, it’s just kinda been taking up my closet space. You know how crammed these dorms are.” You murmured honestly.

“Fair point.” He said, nodding his head as he pressed his lips together in a thin line. A moment of silence passed between the two of you, though not uncomfortable. His eyes skimmed over your features, a gentle smile spread across his lips.

“You know,” he began, tilting his head. “I don’t even know your name.” He pointed out, to which you came to a realization.

In all honesty, the fact that you never learned his name was driving you crazy over the past week as well. When you told your friend about everything, she felt guilty that she had pulled you away before you had the chance to ask—too lost in excitement and hurry.

“Y/N.” You introduced yourself, as his heart skipped a beat, his gaze softening as a hum of content sounded from the back of his throat.

“Y/N,” he repeated in a soft mumble, testing the name on his tongue as he smiled at the sound, finding it to be fitting. Pretty, much like yourself.

“It’s nice to officially meet you, Y/N.” He responded, giving you a small nod. “I’m Heeseung.” He greeted you, holding his hand out for you to take.

Once you did, he shook it politely, as you let out a soft sounding laugh. “You know, I was worried I wouldn’t be able to see you again. It’s pretty hard finding people on campus—especially if you take different courses.” You expressed with a small tilt to your head.

“I understand. I felt the same way, too. So I’m glad to have bumped into you again today.” Heeseung said, taking a deep breath before continuing on.

“So, whilst you are here in front of me and before you get swept away again, I was wondering.. would you maybe like to grab some coffee? Maybe lunch together one of these days?” He asked, a bit nervous, but still keeping his composure as he rocked back and forth on his feet.

You smiled, nodding your head in agreement. “You know, I’d really like that.” You admitted, a pink hue to your cheeks.

__________________________________________

i had this idea in the drafts for a while now, so whilst i work on a couple of requests, i thought i’d publish this in the meantime lol

thank you all so much for reading! i appreciate it so much. once again, if you have any requests, feel free to leave them in my asks because i am currently taking them ^^

okay okay, bye! love you all. take care 🤍

[shhhsupertopsecret]

Orestes - Jason Todd

Prompt: “It’s rotten work.” “Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

an: While I can appreciate fanon Jason, I prefer emotionally and romantically stunted canon Jason. Canon typical violence 

WC: 1079

The left side living room window was always unlocked. Slightly dangerous game in Gotham, but sacrifices had to be made. For him, you would take the gamble. It had been a few days without any sight of him. While this was not uncommon, the twisting in your gut followed his absence every single time. It was a persistent reminder of the ever-present danger he was in. So, the window remains unlocked. So, you pine. And you wait. 

You lay half-conscious on your couch, the TV bathing the living room in a faint blue light. Perfectly fitting of your melancholia. Then you had quite a startle. There was a gentle knock at the window. That was the sign that Jason couldn’t get in on his own. You jumped up, your heart jumping with you. You all but ran to the window to pull Jason inside. He swayed on his feet, his face obscured by that stupid helmet. 

The extensive first aid kit already lay prepped on the coffee table. You could run a medical clinic from your one-bedroom apartment. You got Jason to the couch as gently as possible, as gently as you could move a six-foot-200-pound man. He was almost completely dead-weight. 

With gentle hands, you moved to the sides of his helmet, pushing the release buttons and pulling it off. Jason’s face was ashen, his eyes glassy and unfocused—was it exhaustion or pain? You couldn’t tell.

“Hey, Jay.” You cradled his face, thumbs gently swiping the tops of his cheekbones, as you took in his damage. Multiple lacerations marred his skin and a bullet wound had torn open the flesh of his side. He closed his eyes and leaned into the point of connection. A black left eye too. 

“I’m sorry.” He was always sorry. Jason could never accept help without guilt. To you, it was an honor to be the one who he trusted, a fragile gift. Jason Todd’s trust was a rare commodity. You would give anything to make him quit, but he wasn’t him without the Red Hood. So you loved both of them. 

“Nothing to be sorry for. Let’s get you cleaned up, huh?” With a pace so slow you appeared to be still, you peeled what remained of the blood-stained shirt off of Jason’s body. Your hand grazed the litany of puckered scars from previous gunshot wounds. Your eyes were always drawn to the y-shaped autopsy scar that ran down his chest. The scar in a crude letter J that lived near his clavicle. It wasn’t that Jason was fragile, far from it. How much could one person take? You did everything you could to take some of it from him - to carry it for him. 

You started the familiar process. Examine, clean, stitch. You pull the jagged edges of skin together with secure knots. If you didn’t have an iron will before, you do now. All the while, he clings to consciousness. You can finally breathe after the last suture is knotted and snipped. 

“Why do you do this for me?” Jason’s words disrupt the silence. 

“Am I supposed to leave you on the sidewalk?”

“Maybe.” You knew he believed that. He doesn’t believe in affection without strings. He had never known a healthy relationship model. You tried not to let it offend you when he waited for the other shoe to drop.

“I hate when you say shit like that. I do this because I can and I want to. I really want to. I’ll take care of you for as long as you’ll let me - might force you to endure it longer than that.” Jason did let his lips curl into a small smile at that. 

“Bed or couch?” 

“Bed.” His voice cracked, his words more of a croak.

This time, Jason was a bit sturdier on his feet and hobbled beside you to the bedroom. You slide into bed and turn over the sheet on his side. He slides into bed as gracefully as he can manage. His skin was painted an alarming purple against the stark white sheets. You remain a respectful distance away. Would you ever tell him you love him? Was it just one more thing for him to carry? You would like to think that your overwhelmingly fond demeanor had told him all he needed to know. So was his silence hesitance or rejection? 

It was faint at first, you could barely feel it. Sure enough, a pinkie interlocked with yours. You braved a look at Jason’s face. 

“Thank you.” His sincerity burned your skin. 

“Of course, any time.”

“That’s not what I meant. Thank you for everything. It’s hard for me to be…open. But, you meet me where I am at. You care.” His eye contact made you nervous. Jason is not world-renowned for his emotional honesty. His eyes continued to peer at you, waiting for your response.  

“I-Undoubtedly, I care. You find that hard to believe sometimes. But I do.” Jason turned on his (non-injured) side. He interlocked his fingers with yours, bringing both your hands to rest on the pillow in between your heads. He stared somewhere behind your head, losing what little bravado he had. 

“I think I love you. I think I do. I love you.” Jason blundered through his sentence while maintaining eye contact with the wall. His palm was sweaty. You could swear your heart was going to come out of your throat. 

With bravery you did not know you possessed, you put your hands to his face and brought his eyes to meet yours. It was moments like these that reminded you what Jason had lost. He looked like that 15-year-old boy, looking for validation in a foreign warehouse. And you adored him. 

“I love you, Jason. I know I do.” You both sat in the weight of your words. 

“Really?” 

“Yes, really. Absolutely. Totally. Entirely.”

“It’s rotten work.” You wish he could quantify his self-worth. You don’t understand how someone you loved so utterly could loathe themselves. You would remind him, every day, if he let you. 

“Not to me, not if it’s you.” Jason bridged the gap between you, throwing his arm over your middle and pulling you close. 

“Can we stay like this for a while?” Embarrassment lingered in the red of his cheeks. You could feel the weight and warmth that radiated from his arm. It felt safe.

“Of course.” You let the man you loved hold you until you both fell asleep.

[floweycidal]

Is it just me or does flowey get humbled in both genocide and pacifist routes?

Genocide because he felt the pain and fear he caused others

Pacifist is pretty self explanatory

to say flowey was humbled would be an understatement. bro really did all this just to lose LMFAO

on a serious note, you're right. flowey does get humbled. in every route, actually. that is because he is destined to lose. to me, the world seemed like it just never accounted for his revival, nor did it consider anything that might spring from his existence.

flowey's entire life was built around frustration, a world that spun on without him, leaving him behind like an afterthought. no matter how many resets he triggered, how many paths he took, he never found meaning. nothing he did felt real, nothing produced anything that lasted. he was drowning in the monotony, in the overwhelming sense that the universe was dull and utterly uncaring about whether he was there or not.

this is where his delirium n obsession begins. if the world wouldn’t offer him anything worthwhile, he’d take it. if the universe ignored him, he would force it to notice. he became consumed with the need for control, desperate to pull the strings, to carve out something, anything meaningful in a life that had none.

but regardless of what he did, it was never enough. he saw every outcome, lived every route, read every book, burned every book. he spared everyone, he killed everyone. none of it ever amounted to anything.

the same faces, the same hollow conversations, the same endless loop. every time, it brought him right back to where he started, as if he hadn’t done a thing.

that was the real cruelty. whatever he tried, the outcomes were always the same, predictable and unfulfilling, none of them going in a way that truly satisfied him. they bored him, wore him down, as though the universe was mocking his every effort. every route he took, every decision he made led to nothing substantial. he was losing interest. his reasons for living were dwindling, fast.

the world went on, indifferent to his suffering, and that very apathy ate away at him. it drove him crazy out of his mind.

then you came along. suddenly, there was hope. a perverted kind of hope that maybe this time would be different. you could finally bring about something authentic into his life, your unpredictability a breath of fresh air. it was a flutter of change in a universe that had otherwise forsaken him.

in geno, flowey is almost thrilled by the chaos you cause. he praises you, revels in your violence, as if your cruelty is proof that his worldview was right all along. you become the demon he always believed you could be. and for a brief instant, he feels justified, even vindicated. but even that falls flat bc in the end, you take things further than he ever could. you tear through the world with a coldness that makes even him tremble. he’s staring down the barrel of his own logic, realizing that in a world where you’ve killed everyone, you’re going to kill him too. the power he used to reset everything, to cheat death, means nothing now. he’s left with nothing but terror. whoever convinced him he was in control? #humbled

in neutral, flowey tries one more time. he taunts you, eggs you on, hoping that at least in death, he can prove that the world is as cruel and merciless as he always believed.

but when you spare him, when you refuse to give him that twisted validation, it’s the ultimate rejection of everything he stands for. mercy is the one thing he can’t handle because it'll just mean he was wrong. you don’t have to be violent to win. you don’t have to be cruel to survive. so... he flees. #humbled

in pacifist, flowey is convinced this is it. he is god. he finally wields the power to keep you here with him. you'll play his game over and over again, and this time, he’s sure it will work. but as fate would have it, you break through his defenses, restoring the lost souls and calling out to him with a warmth that disarms him completely.

he’s left flabbergasted as his power falters against your unwavering spirit. for all his might, he realizes he’s lost control (again). all his efforts to grasp at godhood collapse, leaving him to reckon with the reality that his power meant nothing in the presence of true compassion. #HUMBLEDD

all flowey ever wanted was a single victory. just One. in a life stripped of everything dear, where he was left with only emptiness, he yearned to believe that if he held on tightly enough, if he played his cards just right, he could finally win. but that outcome was always just out of reach.

it slipped away like everything else. it simply was not meant to be.

flowey's most formidable foe was ultimately himself. as it turns out, his refusal to let go is what truly condemned him.

for letting go meant accepting chara was gone, and nothing could ever return to how it was.

for letting go meant remaining a soulless flower, trapped in a dismal existence, endlessly tormented by his loss and incapacity to love as he once did.

for letting go meant confronting the unsettling possibility that he might never find joy again.

for letting go meant accepting that perhaps, after everything, there genuinely was nothing left for him.

...is it really any wonder, then, that he sought out control with such pitiful desperation?

siiiiiigh

i'm not sure how we ended up here, but.... thanks for the ask, anon!

[writing-until-i-drop]

Wildflowers For A Hangman Ch. 13

Summary:

Daisy, a career novelist, moves in with her college best friend Phoenix who has been permanently assigned to Top Gun with Dagger Squad. She finds herself instantly connected with a cocky pilot who's soft only for her and Jake can't help but want to know everything about her. When the past comes knocking at both of their doors, will they stand together or fall apart?

Or: The Dagger Squad can't cook and Jake falls in love with a woman who makes a mean lasagna while they work their personal trauma.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x writer!femOC | 18+ (eventually) minors dni. Fluff, smut (eventual), idiots in love, past trauma.

A/N: Daisy and Jake get ready to leave for their Thanksgiving trip but things don't go as planned.

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

October had been a blur of soccer games, conference calls with my agent and publisher planning a book tour for the new year, and lots of time spent apologizing to Harvey. He was mad at me still but he understood why I had kept him in the dark, at least enough to invite me to spend Christmas with him.

Jake had been swinging between calm and absolutely wired when it came to making the Thanksgiving trip to Texas for Thanksgiving. One moment he was telling me how excited he was and how much his family was going to love me, the next he was wringing his hands, silently staring into the distance. He was doing the same thing now, standing in the line for TSA.

“Baby,” I tugged him forward in line by his hand, “What’s bothering you?” He shrugged, pulling off his boots. “Don’t give me that.”

“Just thinking, Wildflower.” I rolled my eyes, double checking that my pockets were empty before pushing my bin forward. “I just want this to go well and I’m nervous.” 

“It’s going to be fine, pretty boy. Don’t forget to take off your hat,” I flicked the rim of the cowboy hat he rarely wore. “But I know that’s not all, you’re being way too frowny for that to be it.” He sighed but didn’t respond, staying silent as we processed through the body scanner and pulled our shoes back on. Jake’s silence was tugging at my heart strings, a million possibilities more ludicrous than the last running through my mind. The thoughts slowed when he wrapped his arm over my shoulder, pulling me into his side, but didn’t fade completely.

“My mama’s going to pick us up from the airport and then we’re going to get lunch with my sisters.” I hummed, knowing the plan already. We had gone over it twice in the car alone. “Are you upset with me?” 

“I’m not upset with you, I’m worried because you’re being weird and not telling me why.” Jake kissed the top of my head, guiding us off to the side of the main walkway. Jake’s eyes were soft but his jaw was tight, relaxing and tensing repeatedly as he stared me down. I waited patiently, fiddling with the button on my suitcase’s handle.

“I’ve never brought someone home before,” He confessed and it all made sense. I cupped his face, swiping my thumb over the stubble that had appeared in the last two days.

“Happy to be your first, Hangman,” Jake pulled me closer by the waist, a goofy grin on his face.

“That’s the same thing you said to me the night we met.” Back when I thought Jake was just some cocky pilot flirting with me for fun. I had never been happier to be wrong in my life. “I thought you were the prettiest girl in the bar.” 

“I didn’t even want to go that night,” Jake chuckled at my confession. “And I about died of embarrassment when you introduced yourself by kissing my head.” He leaned down, giving me a sweet kiss that made my heart flutter.

“‘I’m glad you came that night,” 

“‘Me too.” 

Jake and I made our way to the gate, stopping at the overpriced market for a share-size bag of M&Ms that I didn’t plan on sharing and caffeine for Jake, who despite having to be up early every day for work, was decidedly not a morning person.

“I love you,” Jake nuzzled his face into my neck, kissing it softly. My cheeks burned red, catching the scandalized glance of an older couple across from us. “And I can’t wait for you to meet my family.” 

“People are looking at us, pretty boy,” I tried to push him away gently but he wrapped an arm around me, keeping me as close as possible despite the arm rest between us. He breathed in deeply, keeping his face concealed in my hair as people shot us poorly concealed looks.

“Don’t care, Wildflower. Unless it makes you uncomfortable?” 

“A little,” Jake gave my neck one last kiss before pulling back. “But I love you too.” His phone rang and when he looked at the caller ID, his face fell.

“Lt. Seresin,” I couldn’t hear the conversation over the noise of the airport but the look on Jake’s face was enough to make my stomach twist with anxiety. “Rear Admiral, I understand the situation but I’m on approved leave for-” He ground his teeth, obviously being cut off by someone. “Yes, sir,” He hung up. Jake buried his face in his hands, grunting in frustration. I rubbed circles onto his back,

“What’s wrong, Jake?” 

“The team’s being called in for an emergency, I have to go.” My heart dropped, hearing how broken his voice was. “Fuck, I hate this.” 

“It’s okay, baby,” I kissed his hair, still rubbing his back. “Let’s get out of here, I’ll figure out the bags later.” I stood, shouldering my bag, “Come on, Jake. We’ll call your mama in the car and arrange something for when you get back.” 

��No,” He said firmly, standing. I raised a brow, confused. Jake lifted my bag from my shoulder, depositing in the chair he had just been sitting in.

“Jake?” He shook his head, running a hand down his face. “What are you doing?” 

“I want you to meet my family and they’re so excited to meet you, I don’t want my job to ruin this.” He wanted me to meet his family without him? Was he insane? “Take a deep breath, baby. You look like you’re going to pass out.” I inhaled deeply, trying to school my face into one that looked slightly less terrified. 

“I’m not meeting your family without you.”

“Please, Daisy?” He pulled me in for a sweet kiss, “Do it for me?” I groaned, resting my head on his chest. Jake hugged me tight, swaying us from side to side. This was a big deal for both of us. I had never met someone’s parents and he had never brought a girl home before, it was something new to both of us. Something big and scary but something that had to be done, especially if I was going to marry him some day. 

I smiled, thinking about Jake in his dress whites, the rest of the Daggers standing in uniform beside him, except for Natasha who was by my side like always. I didn’t have many people who could stand on my side of the aisle but that didn’t ruin the image.

“I’ll do it.” 

X

When Jacob had sent me a text to explain the change of plans, I nearly dropped my phone in surprise. That was not the plan. It was not the plan at all. We were all over the moon to finally meet Daisy but there was so much more we needed to discuss, all of which had to be done in person and Jake getting pulled away on a last minute mission complicated things. 

“What are we going to do?” My husband, Franklin, asked. “We’ve got to tell him.” I shook my head, wringing my hands.

“We do but right now we’re in the same pickle we’ve been in for the last six months. We’ll tell him when he gets back, whether it’s over the phone or in person.” Franklin kissed my forehead, passing the truck keys to me.

“Go pick up our future daughter-in-law, Honey Bunny,” Franklin was having a good day, standing tall, his hands steady for the most part. It pained me to see him so thin, his flannel hanging off of him in a way it hadn’t in years. “We’ll figure out how to handle this later.” 

“We’re meeting the girls for lunch but I left some soup for you in the fridge if you get hungry,” Franklin hummed in acknowledgement but I had a feeling the soup would still be there when I got home. “I love you,” 

“I love you too.” 

The airport was busy as always but I managed to find a parking spot in front of arrivals. I hopped out of the truck, grabbing the bouquet of daisies Caroline had insisted on picking up from the store the night before. I glanced at the last photo of Daisy that Jacob had sent to the family group chat. She was a pretty, little thing with red hair that always seemed to be tied up in a messy knot, holding up a casserole with a bright smile, Jacob's friends gathered around her. It was easy to see how much everyone loved her and how much she enjoyed being surrounded by them. It was comforting, knowing that my baby boy had found someone who brought so much light to his life. 

The red hair was easy to spot amongst the crowd, I waved her down.

“Daisy, honey! Over here,” The young woman’s head perked up. She smiled nervously when she saw me, making her way through the droves of people. “Oh my goodness, what a cutie pie you are!” I gushed, bringing her into a tight hug. She patted my back softly, not quite relaxing into the embrace. “It’s so nice to finally meet you in person. Jacob’s told us all about you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, ma’am.” I pulled back, a big smile on my face. 

“You can just call me mama, sweetheart.” There was a flash of sadness over her features and it hit me that Jacob had mentioned that Daisy’s parents were both dead. I quickly changed the subject, “It’s a shame Jacob couldn’t make it but this means we don’t have to sneak away to the kitchen for me to show you his baby pictures.” 

“Oh I can’t wait,” Daisy giggled, “Jake was also worried about you telling me embarrassing childhood stories.” She finally seemed relaxed, taking the bouquet with a small thank you.

“I’ve got plenty of those to share, I’ll even send you home with the recording of his 3rd grade talent show.” 

“Please, please, please tell me it was a magic act,” Daisy laughed, helping me load her bags into the truck bed.

“Even better, he sang Should've Been A Cowboy.”

Taglist: @theforevermorereject @beltzboys2015-blog @writingrose @sinners-98-world @nerdgirljen @candlejuice @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @football1921 @katiemcrae @emma8895eb @itsdesiree86 Want to be added to this list? Just ask!

Next Chapter

[valentine-cafe]

. ˚◞♡ 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝒆𝒙 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒙 𝒈𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ꒰ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍 𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍'𝒔 𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒔 ꒱◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ 9948e rishen / gn angel reader ꒱ you loved him with all your heart. but he was the right person at the wrong time. . . or maybe the wrong person altogether. even still, your heart yearns for him. his staring and interactions after your breakup dont seem to take him off of your mind

𖹭. content warnings◞  angst . soooo much pining . JUST TAKE HIM BACK . 1.1k

𖹭. receipts◞  no idea where this came from but i needed to write something with angel rishen because i miss him 

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 ꒱ m.list . guidelines . characters . lorebook ⊹ ۪ ࣪ 

𖹭. ex boyfriend!rishen who you had numerous fall outs with. he was far too busy with his duties. far too everywhere for you to keep up. while he soared through the skies with the sun shining upon his beautiful form - you could all but watch. your icarus, too far for you to reach

𖹭. ex boyfriend!rishen who you still love with all your heart . . . but your personalities do not mix and you cannot keep up with him. to love him was to hurt. and so even after your split, your heart would continue to tear from the inside out.

𖹭. ex boyfriend!rishen who is always staring at you across the room whenever there is a meeting or gathering of sorts for the angels. watching as you speak with others. as you laugh and try to pretend like he never existed. as though you both never had anything. . . and when you catch his gaze? he won’t turn away. by no means at all. he’ll stare into your eyes. his own shining with so much want, so much need. all for you to see.

𖹭. ex boyfriend!rishen who might not speak to you any longer, but wants you just as much. he knows you both don’t match. but he needs you back in his arms and under his wings. you promised him forever - how could you take it away? it’s so evident in the way that he looks at you. how he deters others he thinks are threats. how he reacted when you found someone new.

“does he treat you better?”

“does it matter?”

“it matters everything.”

the archangel does not dare chase after your fleeting form as you step past him. robes flutter in the haste of your walk. he delights in the scent of your perfume.

and while his heart yearns to chase after. to take you into his arms as he always did whenever your stubbornness rose - he does not. he only leans into one of the many walls of the angel halls.

to his luck, you halt. turn to him with a face full of a thousand unspoken words and hundreds of songs he wishes to hear. even now. even if all they string is cacophonies.

“and why does it matter to you, aryielus? that I am finally happy? that I am taken care of?”

the valour of his wings consumes your presence. rishen, at last, pushes forward and finds position in front of you.

despite the swarms of desolation in his eyes. the look etched on his face tells you this is still a man who will take arrow after arrow if it means keeping you safe.

that is one thing no one will outmatch. no matter how hard they tried.

his fierce loyalty.

“I take great pleasure in the idea of you being happy . . . at last,” he mirrors your words. hesitant. his brows narrow and he takes one more step nearer.

“but do not question why is it any of my business. as though you were not mine but a few moons ago.”

the scent of marigolds and jasmine fills your nostrils as he draws closer. the tickle of his curls on your face makes you wish to pull away. yet your heart stops you. his warmth was - and always is welcomed by your entire being.

“do not act as though you know not of my care for you. how much I need you.”

the placement of his hand is respectful as always. along your side. barely there - like the brush of a delicate feather. ready to slip away and apologise should you will it.

and as his lips ghost yours. you know he will not move them unless you do.

you know you will not taste them.

“I need you more than I can take.”

the smoothness of his voice quivers. your heart clenches.

he withdraws. his steps the only linger of his being. this is how it has been for months, now.

𖹭. ex boyfriend!rishen who cannot stand your new lover. but will never approach. he respects you too much for that. wants your happiness too much to put his own heart first. yet his watchful eyes always linger on you and the other whenever he finds himself in your presence. critical in his watch. jealous in his soul.

𖹭. ex boyfriend!rishen who still gets paired with you on missions and tasks - because you both ‘work well’ as stated by the higher ups. how ironic. he treats it professionally. tries to ignore the way you sometimes brush against him accidentally. how you feel against him when he catches you - pulls you away from danger - and so on. at least he still gets to have you in some way

𖹭. ex boyfriend!rishen who you accidentally swing into dance with during another event of angels. in which partners were exchanged. you hadn’t even noticed that you’d fall right into his arms. nor did he. but the way in which your gazes met had both your hearts soaring.

“how have you been?”

“spare me.”

your words bring a sting to his heart. fill his lungs with burn. yet he does not protest and gives a small nod of his head. his hands steady on you through the slow dancing.

neither of you wish to make a scene and withdraw. and so you will continue until the next exchange.

the guilt in your heart from shutting his question down so quickly builds. and with a sigh, you murmur - “I am surprised you found the time to attend.”

he smiles. bitterly? solemnly? you hope it is genuine.

“I could not pass up the opportunity to see a certain pretty face again.”

the clench of your chest. the wail of your very soul.

“why do you still hold on?”

the air meets your back as the dance wills rishen to dip you. holding on as he always has, always will. clinging as though the threat of you falling is not the only aspect ready to pull you from his gentle hands again.

“well,” he chuckles.

you tear.

“a lover holds on to anything. you promised me forever, my dear.” he cranes over your figure. that same, wonderful scent filling your nostrils. sating your weeping heart.

oh his smile. like a balm to your hurting being.

“you took it away. and yet I still need you. I told you,”

a lump to his throat.

“I need you more than I can take.”

𖹭. taglist◞ wanna join the taglist? fill out this form

𖹭. remember◞ you make a writer's day every time you like, reblog and/or comment on their piece. if you enjoyed my work, please considering doing so<3

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒔 ꒱ tip jar . masterist ⊹ ۪ ࣪

[daitranscripts]

Cole Conversations

Companion Comments

Cole Masterpost

Dialogue options:

Cassandra [1]

Blackwall [2]

Iron Bull [3]

Dorian [4]

Solas [5]

Vivienne [6]

Varric [7]

Sera [8]

Leliana [9]

Josephine [10]

Cullen [11]

1 - Cassandra

Romanced Cole: Petals fall open as lips shape words that rhyme. Candlelight softens the edges.

Cassandra’s personal quest incomplete Cole: Stomach full of mantras, she burns like a beacon, Faith a flame to bring succor for a Seeker.

Cassandra’s personal quest complete Cole: Faith seeks a friend in Compassion, cautious, careful, too much grey but growing.

2 - Blackwall

Romanced He feels naked without the name on the armor, but now he knows you want him naked.

Blackwall’s personal quest incomplete An old name burns inside armor that shouldn't fit, lit by faces of the children he couldn't save.

Blackwall’s personal quest complete The name breaks free, pulls the pain with it. A black wall to shield the self when the sky is rainier.

3 - Iron Bull

Romanced Tied, but tenderly, loving in the letters of a word that would stop it, knots in satin scarves.

Personal quest active “The,” a joke. He laughs to himself, imagining herds of cattle in fields of iron, but now he worries it fits.

Personal quest complete, made Tal-Vashoth Salt-spray smell of Seheron. Lost in smoke from a burning ship. Guilt at not feeling guiltier.

Personal quest complete, sacrificed the Chargers Copper on the lips. Dalish lies dead-eyed beside me. He'll come, he'll call, he won't leave us. Horns pointing up.

4 - Dorian

Romanced Glittering to gloss a hidden hurt. Unlearning not to hope for more. Stumbling steps where the wall used to be.

Giselle gave letter, have not met Dorian’s father Bright, like the fish that kill you if you eat them. Can't hate you for hiding if you burn so brilliantly.

After meeting Dorian’s father He tried to melt a snowflake because he liked waterfalls. Swallowing bile and pride as he sees his son defend himself.

5 - Solas

Cole’s personal quest complete Voice ringing with fullness from both worlds, guiding me to the shining places. He calls himself Pride.

High approval, other conditions unknown Old pain, shadows forgotten from dreams too real. This side is slow and heavy, but here is what can change.

Personal quest completed Wisdom knows enduring is pain. He hurts for her, another of many he couldn't save. He carries necessary deaths.

6 - Vivienne

Personal quest not started A breath-caught smile from the Enchanter as the candle lights. The walls are safe; she will never be hungry again.

Personal quest completed A cold flame blazes in a robe worth more than children. Protect her, and she consumes you, burning because she can.

7 - Varric

Cole’s personal quest complete Kid, says the stone. Kid, kidding. It would keep me kept with a name, but the cairn can't catch me.

Hawke lives, other conditions unknown He writes words that aren't real, but they are for him, in a quiet place whose stone shape shakes the ground.

Hawke left in the Fade The stone is cracked, split, jagged. The hawk would have been safe if it had stayed, but that isn't what hawks do.

8 - Sera

Romanced Fleet-footed and free, the arrow that caught the miller's sack, but no longer shot alone, aquiver in a quiver.

Cole more human Shite. He's wrong. Dead-eyed crazy, shite. I called him a 'him'. Is he alive, is everything alive, shite. I hate raisins.

Cole more spirit She hurts, but helping hurts more. She sees the strings that pull me, eyes like raisins in a stale cookie.

9 - Leliana

Leliana’s personal quest not started The Left Hand remembers a knife slipped to her in the darkness, and wonders why the flower blooms.

Leliana hardened The Left Hand is harder, faith fallen in folly. It makes the dreams worse, but sends them away faster.

Leliana softened The Left Hand blooms on the bush, remembering the light that shone in her darkness. She knows how to sing again.

10 - Josephine

Romanced Steel flashes, like at the top of the stairs, but this time she knows her voice and it ends with a kiss.

Josephine’s personal quest started She spins, plucking strings, matching wits and words, an admiral who will never send ships of her own.

Josephine’s personal quest complete Ships launch on changing winds. Dizzy sometimes, like the top of the stairs, but sometimes like dancing.

11 - Cullen

Romanced Safe and solid, protecting and proud. He feels like quiet, stronger when you hold him.

Personal quest incomplete, talked about lyrium He is quiet, behind the noise. The little bottle makes him shake, but he tests the chains.

Continued lyrium He sounds right again with the chains in place, but the music makes him sad.

Quit lyrium He sounds new, echoes of laughter on an empty riverbed. Not for sailing, but safer.

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Charles Rowland and Edwin Payne (Ninth Doctor and Rose AU)

The TARDIS is Edwin’s heart. That’s made perfectly clear by only a cursory glance around both. The way that it is worn down and gritty and Edwin’s suit is the only perfectly maintained part of it all and yet he just fits, y’know, moving about the space with such precision and grace, the only thing his hands ever touch with tenderness the levers of his ship.

The TARDIS is Edwin’s lungs. It breathes as he lives, its corridors filled with libraries and books and chemical sets and a million blueprints and magnifying glasses and detective novels sitting alongside more futuristic tech and tools. It exists as he does, expanding within itself, so much bigger and better on the inside, more spectacular than anyone could ever guess on first glance.

The TARDIS is dangerous. It turns a creature they meet, a dickhead who abused and murdered his family, back into a baby. It throws itself to the end of the universe to protect Edwin and the world contained inside of it. It is something that should scare Charles, its vastness, its unknowableness, its infinity.

And yet Charles loves it, loves it with everything he has, because it’s bigger on the inside, because it’s Edwin’s heart, because it’s Edwin’s lungs and his home and because Charles loves Edwin.

-aletterinthenameofsanity, leads you here despite your destination (under the milky way tonight)

With golden string Our universe was clothed in light Pulling at the seams Our once barren world now brims with life That we may fall in love Every time we open up our eyes I guess space, and time Takes violent things, angry things And makes them kind

-Sleeping At Last, Sun

In the spirit of getting myself working on chapter 5 (which I hope to finish tomorrow, if not the day after), I'm putting together moodboards for all of the episodes I've already done! Here's the first one!

@gendrsoup @vyther15 @anything-thats-rock-and-roll

@tititilani @flowerbritts @silverysnake @ohfallingdisco

@regina-cordium @nix-nihili @wordsinhaled @bitterdesert

@lesbicosmos @spacegirlsgang @1kazul

@flaggersribs @depressedandoverdressed @sasakisniko

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Surprise Pt. 5 | Soap x Reader

Summary: The boys learn that they don’t know you as well as they thought they did, while you find some newfound ‘friends’ in an American and his unofficial boss in Urzikstan.

Word Count: ~ 4.6k

Warnings: Descriptions of death, knives, blood, guns, explosions, debris, gas, torture, kidnapping, shooting, choking, heavy topics, biting, it’s a lot yall

A/N: umm sorry ive been gone for a week here’s some food!! *runs away* this is a big switchup though from mainly 141 to Alex, Farah, and a few more pieces of reader’s backstory so lmk any thoughts or theories (yk I love them) hope you enjoy<3 (side quest: find how many characters you can recognize from cod!)

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist | Next

The first thing Captain John Price registered when he walked into the room, the rest of his Task Force following closely behind, was that they were in some deep shit. They’d just gotten back from a mission. The one they’d been called into during the volleyball game. It had been low stakes, but instead of going back to the apartment, they’d been told to get back to base as soon as possible.

Laswell was pacing back and forth, fidgeting, two things she never did unless everything was falling apart at the seams. The last time he’d seen her so worked up had been years ago. When she caught sight of him, there was no sigh of relief or relaxation, she breathed out four words.

”They got her, John.”

He tried not to let the tension in his body show, tried not to look just how internally panicked he was right now. Simon stiffened, hands balling into fists. Price knew it was a conscious effort to not lash out immediately.

”What.”

Ghosh ground out, eyes narrowed. Soap tried putting a hand on his shoulder, a hand that Simon only shoved off immediately. Laswell just shook her head, looking to be in shock as she only sat down at one of the chairs in the dimly lit room, pulling documents out from a drawer under the long table.

Price was the first to sit, followed by Gaz, then Soap, and finally, Simon who refused to relax, his leg bouncing impatiently under the table, hands on his knees.

Laswell opened one of the files, sliding it around to where they could see it. Lo and behold, it was a picture of you from a few years back, maybe when you’d been 14 or 15. You shouldn’t have been able to get in that early, it shouldn’t have even been possible. You wore a uniform, the file listing you by your first and last name, your callsign in the center. There was no official position or branch like there should’ve been.

“Wasp.”

Price stared at it for a few moments, reading whatever he could glean over in the file before glancing up at Laswell, who in turn pulled another file out. This one looked newer, the corners were not bent or warped yet. When she opened it, there was no picture on file. This time, it stated “Marines” as your branch. Your last name was listed as “Woods” instead of Riley.

To keep Simon from finding you on the database, most likely. Or someone else.

And the thing that caught his attention the most?

The “Captain” title right next to your first name.

”That’s nae possible.”

Soap said, jaw clenched as he glanced at Simon, the man refusing to meet his eye, glaring down at the files.

”It is,”

Laswell said, breathing out a shaky breath. Trying to calm herself, Price knew.

”They found her in a camp at 12, Frank Woods took her in, pulled some strings, and enrolled her early off record. He kept her mostly off base in a safe house until she turned 18.”

Gaz’s gaze was on Laswell now, narrowed, pinned on her. Interrogation was his specialty, after all.

”A camp?”

A nod.

”Essentially a POW camp, her relations to Ghost meant she was a valuable asset to bargain.”

Price didn’t need to glance over at Ghost to see the way he’d nearly stopped breathing, the shock being a common aspect among the group. Gaz let out a deep breath, hand going to hold the brim of his cap, his gloved finger running along the seam.

”Then how the bloody hell is she in high school?”

Simon asked, trying to reason with how this could’ve happened, how you could’ve lied to them, to him, for so long about everything and he’d never even caught on. It hadn’t been a volleyball camp keeping you from attending his mum’s funeral, it had been a POW camp, one you had been in because of him in the first place.

Simon asked, trying to reason with how this could’ve happened, how you could’ve lied to them, to him, for so long about everything and he’d never even caught on. It hadn’t been a volleyball camp keeping you from attending his mum’s funeral, it had been a POW camp, one you had been in because of him in the first place. And the new, somewhat stable foster home you’d been in? A safe house provided by your new foster parent, Frank Woods, an American Sergeant that Simon had heard whispers of.

He’d allegedly been a force to reckon with during the Korean and Vietnam wars, retired now and pushing 60 probably, but no less legendary by military standards.

”She’s 23, Lieutenant. It was a cover mission.”

Another surprise.

Another lie.

“Steamin’ Jesus…”

Soap muttered, the gleam in his eye dimming from what was most likely concern.

”It was an undercover mission, but with her gone, I don’t know how we’ll handle Nova…”

Laswell muttered to herself, catching herself just in time to shut her mouth then and there, probably realizing she’d already said too much, when Price stood up, staring her down.

”Nova? The hell is that?”

He asked sternly, and Laswell gathered the files in her hands, putting them neatly back into stacks, falling back into the controlled woman he usually saw her as.

”That’s classified, John.”

“Considering we’re closely involved with her, I don’t think it is, Kate.”

He saw the slight whiplash it gave her to call her by her first name, which made sense considering it was always Laswell. Her face grew stern, despite the worried frown lines already carving into her face.

”Don’t. We’ll get her back.”

The rest of the boys watched as she walked out of the room, Gaz muttering something sarcastic under his breath, Price pacing, Soap cursing not so quietly under his breath in his full unbridled accent, and Ghost sitting deathly still.

”I’ll talk to Briggs.”

Price said firmly, words stiff as he walked out of the room.

A moment of silence between the remaining three in the room.

Soap was the first to speak.

“Fuck!”

~

The sweet and irony smell of blood filled your nose as you shakily tried to move, limbs trembling for some reason.

Blinking to try and clear the blurriness in them, you opened your eyes, only to begin rapidly blinking as something small and grainy lifted from a sudden draft and blew into your eyes.

Sand.

You hated sand. The way it shifted under your feet, how it got under all your clothing and in your mouth, under your nails, and in your shoes. The grainy, grinding texture of it against your skin when you had a high-stakes mission and had to lie in it, waiting for the perfect shot.

But sand of this texture was in a handful of places, so at least you could narrow your location down a bit. Getting up and looking around would also help.

You were in a small room, from the looks of it, leaning against a wooden beam that dug at the clothing on your back with jagged edges. Textured, colorfully patterned quilts and blankets hung around, and shifting your head to turn right despite how it throbbed, you saw a corkboard filled with pins and images of people, locations, and notes. A few of the faces were recognizable, not in a good way though. Recognizable in the sense that you had seen those faces before you thought you’d killed them.

The sandy floor beneath you had wood underneath, by the feel of it. Your palms pushed against the floor, trying to get the leverage to stand up, only for you to slump against the wood again.

You needed to get up.

This time using your good leg to push against the floor, as well as your palms, you got almost halfway up the beam, nearly standing, when the sand made your foot slide back out and you fell onto the floor again.

A small, breathy chuckle from the other side of the room had you immediately turning your head, the quick movement making it spin slightly, even as you heard the sound of metal moving against the floor as well as only one footstep every few seconds.

“I don’t like the sand either. Hard on my leg, or what’s left of it, anyways.”

The American from earlier came in, maybe Alex? You’d been so disoriented when he’d told you that you could hardly remember. Fragments of foggy bits came to light, but nothing more than that.

His hair was a sandy color, dirty blonde almost, with a mustache and hair that was sticking almost straight up but short enough to not look ridiculous. His one leg was perfectly normal, but on the other, there was a curved piece of metal to replace the lower half of it where a nub was all that was left.

He offered you a hand, one you hesitated before taking. An American soldier wasn’t a threat, or at least shouldn’t be. He pulled you up as you stumbled to your feet.

“Where are we?”

Your raspy voice asked, throat dry. You tried to clear it to no avail. He grabbed a canteen from a table a few feet away, near the corkboard, and handed it to you with the lid already popped off.

“Zaravan City, Urzikstan. We’re not close to much anything, though, this is one of our safe houses.”

He spoke while you chugged the water, it flowing down your throat mercifully and filling your empty stomach, only serving to remind you that you were also starving. Food could wait, though. When you handed the nearly empty canteen back to him with a small sigh, you raised a brow.

“Our?”

A woman’s voice, thick with a familiar accent, spoke then.

“Yes, our.”

She was standing by the corkboard, glancing over the information with a sharp eye, before walking over to Alex. Her hair was dark and thick, tied tightly back into what seemed to be a ponytail beneath her dark garb. A gun hung from her hip, something semi-automatic. You weren’t sure if that was legal or not here, but couldn’t find it within you to care.

“Farah, in case you don’t remember, Riley.”

You were glad she’d told you because you most definitely did not remember her name. Her gaze met yours, and you held it for a long minute, recognizable facial features coming to your mind, like a dream, you could reach but not quite hold. And then—you remembered.

“Karim,”

You breathed, eyes narrowing. General Karim had proven to be more than capable more times than once during the scandals throughout Urzikstan, especially to the boys.

The boys.

You’d nearly forgotten until now, but you wondered just how much they knew. Whether someone had spilled, or Laswell had told them everything. They would probably be biting at the leash, but there was nothing that could be done now, not with the mission having failed.

They were on their own now.

Farah nodded.

“It is not every day we find an American in a Mexican facility,”

A pointed glance at Alex, whose lips curled slightly up at that.

You grumbled, legs still shaky, probably from the gas that had managed to slip in before you’d put the gas mask on doing rounds through your body, the last of it yet to leave. Managing to stumble over to a chair near a small round table in the corner of the room, you sat down, it groaning under your weight.

“Not every day I see a group from America and Urzikstan in a Mexican facility.”

You shot back and watched as Farah and Alex exchanged a glance, a silent conversation happening right in front of you. Rude, but you couldn’t say you hadn’t done the same thing before.

Alex sighed, grabbing the chair with one hand and easing himself down onto it with his leg, propping the prosthetic up on a nearby crate.

His blue eyes met yours as he set one elbow down on the table.

“We were going after Santiago Garza, a key member of their cartel, which we have reason to believe has…”

He exchanged a glance with Farah, who gave a nearly imperceptible shake of her head.

“…access to things he shouldn’t.”

Alex finished. Farah spoke next, already sensing your oncoming interrogation despite not being in control of the situation.

“We answered yours, now answer our question. Why did he want you?”

Her tone was demanding, leaving no wiggle room for you to try and keep anything from her. If this whole arrangement was going to work out, you were going to have to be transparent with them, anyway. Or as transparent as you could be.

“I have a… personal history with the Garza family. Not a pretty one.”

Farah pressed her lips together but didn’t question further.

The American wasn’t as smart.

“What kind of history?”

He asked, brows raised in an almost innocent expression if it weren’t for the gleam of suspicion in his eyes. You shook your head. Not willing to talk about it. Not now. Woods was the only one you’d ever talked to about it, other than David when the bastard was even there.

Which hadn’t been often.

“What’s the date?”

You then asked. If you’d been captured in America, and then taken to a supposed Mexican facility, then to Urzikstan, it must’ve taken quite a while. Not to mention the travel from there to the safe house…

“The 24th.”

Farah answered, hands moving to idly wipe sand off of the barrel of her gun, back leaning against the wooden post. Her finger remained near the trigger. Untrusting.

It had been nearly four days.

By then, someone had to have noticed the body of Nalani in your room, and your obvious absence. A homicide and a missing person’s case as well, most likely. The boys had definitely heard of it then, despite what you assumed was a mission they were on, considering how early they left that volleyball game.

Had Woods been informed? Had anyone on your team been informed, or were they still too deep in their work in your absence?

Alex’s eyes snapped to the window as he heard something rustling outside, and within moments he was down on his haunches, you and Farah were quick to follow as he lifted one of the thin sheets lying over the windows from the bottom, glancing out for a second.

The pain in your limbs was barely even noticeable compared to the mini-adrenaline rush you were flooded with, mind and body sharp and alert. You’d performed while in much worse conditions, you could manage this one just fine, you were sure.

But without a weapon, you were defenseless.

Reaching for a gun that was laid out on the table, Alex’s hand grabbing your wrist stopped you and refused to let you grab it.

“We’ll handle this, stay inside.”

He said in a hushed tone, voice firm, even though Farah was the one with the most authority here over the both of you.

Farah slowly opened the door, peeking out, dark eyes scanning the dusty roads and markets, when several shots rang out, feminine screams following quickly as the sound of people running became all too obvious.

“Al-Qatala.”

Farah murmured, jerking her chin to Alex, before slipping her gun from her side and walking out of the door, the American man giving you one last glance that clearly said “Stay here.” before following.

Racking your brain, you tried to remember anything that might help you. Urzikstan. A small country in Western Asia. Violence wasn’t uncommon, by the sound of it. And Al-Qatala…try as you might, you couldn’t remember anything about whoever they were. Maybe some sort of gang? Probably, judging by the gunfire and angry Arabic being barked out in the streets.

But you weren’t going to be helpless, stuck in this tiny “safe house” that had two entrances and one large window a man could easily fit through. You stood up, careful to stay clear of the window to avoid catching any strays, only to find the gun that had been on the table gone.

Alex must’ve taken it.

They surely had more weapons somewhere, except for the fact that no matter where you searched, there was nothing to be found. Nothing except documents of blacked-out information, pictures on the board, and a small stash of food and water lying around. A lot of dates, too.

It wasn’t an ideal situation, but you could work with it.

A few strands of rope that you quickly picked up were lying around. Every lesson you’d overheard Woods giving to his team, drilling it into their heads, began repeating in your mind. Like a dream, almost.

“Can any of you boys tell me the five rules of guerrilla warfare?”

His voice, sharp and brusque but not hostile, asked the men in front of him.

You were crouched down, hiding in one of the small areas where the metal of the walls dented outwards slightly, giving you an area to lay down and peek through at him.

One of the men raised his hand in a salute, chapped lips opening to speak.

“Hit and run, sir!”

Woods nodded, hand shooting out to point at another man down the line of soldiers. Mostly young boys who stupidly enlisted, living for their country and dying for it. You didn’t see the point, even if Woods did. You’d never seen the point, not even when Simon had enlisted.

He could’ve been one of the dead.

He still might be. You hadn’t seen him in a while.

“Ambush, sir!”

You snapped back into focus at that, eyes watching keenly as the man nodded again. He had a habit of it; nodding very often. Even if you just inclined to take a bite of soup, he’d nod. The praise was sort of nice, you supposed. Even if you barely knew him, just having arrived here a few weeks ago.

They’d found you on one of the starving horses from the camps, near the front of the marching people, leading their way to freedom despite how sickly and beaten most were. You weren’t much better.

And when the bastard controlling that camp must’ve ordered his remaining men to circle like vultures and take out as many of the surviving prisoners as he could?

Everyone alive after the vicious attack had huddled together in a small cave, the people at the entrance usually being shot from overhead planes by the men too cowardly to approach.

They’d found you huddled up, a warm body on top of you, on one of the sides. Thrown you over their shoulder. Taken you away despite your hitting and biting, and brought you here to domesticate you again. They weren’t bad. They were just soldiers. And soldiers were all about duty and honor, two things you couldn’t find within yourself to care about much anymore. You wondered if Simon still cared about them, or if he’d been numb to it for much longer. After the death of his mother, and how pissed he’d been that you’d missed the funeral, you seriously doubted it.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you watched Woods nod again. You must’ve missed the others, but you knew them by heart by now. After watching and listening for so long.

Harassment.

Mobility.

And finally…

“Surprise.”

A hand grabbed you by the arm, yanking you forward and through the wall, through the hole you’d been watching from. Woods held you by the arm infuriatingly easily, which made sense considering how much of a runt you were. Or had been at the time.

The metal had scraped against your shoulder, cutting open a shallow scratch from collarbone to right arm. You glared at him, kicking at him even as his soldiers chuckled.

Laughing at you.

You despised how patronizing it felt, leaning forward and sinking your deceivingly sharp teeth into the wrist of his hand that held you. Blood drew, and he didn’t drop you, simply moving to hold you in his other arm, smiling warmly at you as his shoulders shook from silent laughter.

“Feisty, huh?��

He said in an amused tone, ruffling your hair while someone went to grab a medic.

The memory felt warm and fuzzy, a reminder of a long time ago, though it only felt like yesterday.

But you had more important things to do than have an existential crisis.

Spying a fan in the corner, you pried the metal caging off, wrapping both hands around one of the metal pieces on it, and yanking until a piece came off. Jagged and sharp. Just how you needed it.

Wrapping your little pieces of rope around the base to protect your hand, you crept towards the back exit, listening for the sounds of any footsteps nearby. It would be hard to overhear, especially with the sounds of yelling, screaming, and gunfire in the streets. You wondered if your little makeshift friends had joined the dead or not.

A near-silent step, a branch accidentally cracking under his step, and you were on him.

Hit and run.

The metal slid smoothly into his throat, a quiet wheeze being all he could get out before you leaned his body back, watching his eyes glaze over as the blood ebbed and flowed. You pulled the gun from his hands, searching and taking what was left of his weapons as well.

One flash bang.

One knife, the case of which you strapped onto your hip, the flash bang being tucked into it soon after.

Mobility.

You crouched down, glancing left and right on the street, and breaking into a low sprint to a building down the dusty road. A restaurant by the looks of it. You couldn’t read the Arabic on the front, it having been one of the languages you hadn’t learned, even in your training for Special Forces.

More if the men flooded the streets just as you ducked behind the counter. Letting them all know you were here with gunfire wasn’t beneficial yet, not when you were so badly outnumbered. You needed to find the central point they were getting in from.

You needed to move.

Waiting for the men to pass by, you eventually went out of the back exit of the restaurant, passing the cool chill of its freezer near the kitchen before jumping onto a ladder in the alleyway outside, climbing up, and falling prone onto the ground as soon as you were there.

Looking up over the ledge, you could see now how there were so many.

Trucks were spread about the city, men exiting them and taking cover for a few seconds until they got to where they wanted to be, and started opening fire. They communicated through their radios, but why they would be here didn’t make sense.

Why try to raid a city when you couldn’t gain much, if anything from it?

Unless they weren’t trying to gain but to take someone out.

Someone who had always been against what you assumed was their little group. And that someone was none other than Farah, judging by how quickly she recognized them, and the gleam of hatred in her eyes when she looked at them. She’d been a bit too eager to slaughter them.

And with how quickly the men were flooding the roads and streets, and their communication, it wouldn’t be long until they found her.

Unless…

Glancing at the rooftop a few buildings over, you saw none other than a large tower. Not just any tower, but an antenna tower.

You observed the crowd for a moment, scanning, watching everyone, until you saw it. Heard it, rather, the loud boom it made, the man yelling “RPG!”. It was the second story of the building across the street. You couldn’t get there in time, even if you got over there without being killed or without too many civilians dying.

You needed to buy time.

Gathering the fractures courage left in your body, you got onto the balls of your feet, and against everything you’d been told, to stay quiet and unnoticeable, you began a mad dash across the building, jumping, and not stopping to marvel when your feet hit the solid ground of the other rooftop, only running further.

You still hadn’t gotten his attention.

You were almost to the antenna tower. Now or never.

Harassment.

Slipping the flash bang out of your belt-ish thing, you pulled the pin out, throwing it up in the air. You heard it when it went off, your vision blurring white as you dove and hit the floor. He must’ve heard it too, considering that when you glanced over, the large weapon was aimed at you, and when he fired, you saw it sail through the air not only at you but at the tower as well.

Diving over the edge of the building, you heard the blast, and chunks of debris and wire began raining from the sky in your area. Your ankles burned when you stood, legs screaming against any movement. Ash floated into your nose and throat, as well as the smell of fire, and you took off into another run, diving into a building, only to run face-first into another man.

Ambush.

Your fist met his jaw before his bullet met your body, but barely. You both rolled to the floor, kicking and flailing around, landing hits on each other. He jabbed at you with his gun, his knife out of reach. You rolled him onto his back, your knife coming out, only to be knocked away by his calloused hands.

Your arm went around his neck, hand locking into place with your other elbow as your knee pressed on his neck. Your breathing was pants, more gasps than anything as he gave a final few kicks, before going limp.

You picked your knife back up, head jolting up when you heard a familiar female yell just a few streets down.

The members of the Al-Qatala seemed lost, some shouting to others in Arabic, others going on rampages against civilians just for the hell of it, seemingly. You didn’t doubt that Farah had a small army of her own, but they hadn’t been prepared.

Neither had you.

Sinking lower to not attract attention, you crept through the streets, watching carefully, or as carefully as you could through your blurry vision. Sand and dust blew into it, but you couldn’t find the strength to blink it away.

Your head was throbbing again.

You weren’t sure how you managed the journey there, brain taking a temporary lapse in recording memory maybe, but the next thing you knew, you were near an old warehouse.

Talking came from inside.

A raspy voice. Old, but not kind or warm, not like the voices of the old men you were used to. Harsh and sharp. Like a whip wailing as it flew through the air. Cut paths through it.

“Where is it?”

Silence. As you crept up to the entrance of the warehouse, where the door was just slightly ajar, you could see the outline of Farah tied into a chair. Multiple other men inside. Maybe three or four. Pulling your gun slowly out, you set the handle against your knee, putting your eye right on the scope.

“We know you have the gas, Farah, or should I call you Karim?”

Cruel.

Unnecessary.

But it gave you a kernel of information.

Information you would think about later if you had the time. If you didn’t die here.

A harsh hit to the face. Audible.

You could tell it stung, but she didn’t budge.

You lined the scope up with his head, finger closing in on the trigger, holding down, just not enough until.

Surprise.

The blast of the shot alone rang out through the warehouse. Except it wasn’t who you’d been expecting to fall to the ground who did.

It wasn’t who you’d thought it had been. Not Al-Qatala, not Cartel.

No, instead, Philip Graves, director of the Shadow Company, fell sideways in the dirt.

And the men surrounding Farah?

None other than your own team that had been handed off to Graves during your departure.

Tags:

@yearninglustfully

@kazuyatokue

@kurokitty6

@popcornlauncher

@karleequinn

@sharkluver

@100percentlazybonez

@kiwibao

@juneonhoth

@theyoungeagle

@kee-0-kee

[indollywetrusttt]

cw: footjob/foot humping, stalking, kidnapping, drugging, extremely one-sided mdlb (he literally only refers to u as mommy), implied(?) noncon, obsessive behavior, no specified character; but he’s genuinely crazy over u, 700 word paragraph of him explaining why he did what he did lolol (also don't mind the image above, reader doesn't have a specified race, i js thought it was cute)

wc: 2,076

a/n: this was kinda rushed bc i’ve been working on smth that’s taking me way longer than i originally anticipated that it would! (im still not even halfway done 💀.) the idea of this just randomly popped in my head while i was scrolling on pinterest to find cute little icons for my blog, hope u enjoy !! (again, there’s no specified anime/game character that this is about so u can imagine whoever you’d like!)

this wasn’t okay. nothing about it was. you don’t even much remember how you got in this position; in a filthy room, sitting at the foot of a hard sheet-less mattress, with some guy holding your ankle & pressing your socked foot against his hard cock.

he had his head resting on your plush thigh & you felt his hot breath fanning over your clothed skin. so badly you regretted wearing thigh highs today. all you wanted was for your legs to be warm throughout the day… not to invite some creep to come & start humping your foot like some animal.

his moans actually started off as cute little whimpers & whines. but as he got closer they were just… guttural. this had to have been his first time touching a woman, the thrusts of his hips were sloppy & uncoordinated.

“f-fuck! i’m so fucking c-close!” he rasped, your eyes widened upon hearing his words. there was no way you were about to let him cum on your foot.

you attempted to pull your foot away from his grasp which only caused him to moan louder as he thought you were trying to help him finish or something. so you tried again, but that proved useless due to him still holding onto your ankle.

“you’re s-so good to me mommy!~ you’re even trying to help me cum-FUCK! iloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyou!” tears of both fear & confusion began to well in your eyes. who was this man? why is he calling you mommy? why is he humping your foot? why does he keep saying he loves you? why wont your mouth move? why can’t you say anything?

how many times can you say ‘i love you’ in 30 seconds? someone should’ve counted because that had to have been a world record or something. as he came, he desperately rutted his aching cock on your foot even faster than he was before.

he must have been feeling absolute euphoria because drool began to fall from his mouth & onto your leg, seeping through the fabric & onto your skin. but despite how grossed out you were there was nothing you could do about it; your body wouldn’t move.

once he finally came down from his high, he finally let go of your ankle & removed himself from your legs. your lip quivered & the tears that were originally only welling in your eyes began to spill uncontrollably, yet no sounds left your mouth.

he got up off the ground with jerky movements, panting like a dog. a big stain a few shades darker than the rest of the fabric on the front of his pants & finally noticed that you were crying. he leaned down & cupped your face with his rough hands & began kissing you. much like his thrusts, the kiss was also sloppy & uncoordinated.

you didn’t kiss back because you couldn’t but he didn’t seem to mind as he forced his tongue into your mouth. licking everywhere & everything that he could reach. your fingers twitched as your mind kept yelling at your body to move, push him off, or do something useful.

after what felt like an eternity of him sloppily kissing you, he finally let your face go, a string of saliva connected to both of your tongues.

“huh? why’re you still crying? that usually works in movies..” he said in a confused tone. he pushed you back so you were now laying on what you assumed to be his gross bed. he then got on top of you & began leaving wet, open mouthed kisses on your throat, which felt anything but good.

you hadn’t noticed it before, but now you were painfully aware of what you were wearing; pink lingerie that was way too tight & scratchy literally everywhere that it touched your skin. his haphazard kisses trailed down to your damnear exposed breasts.

“fuck mommy… i’m getting hard all over again, do you wanna help me again?” so badly you wanted to scream the words ‘fuck no, i don’t even know you’ but the only sound that left your mouth was a choked whimper due to his body weight atop of yours.

he smiled giddily before saying, “i’ll take that as a yes, thank you mommy!” he practically ripped the lingerie from your body & pulled his cum soaked pants down just below his balls. he stroked himself to the sight of your bare body & crying face below him for a little bit before moving up, caging your upper body between his thighs, pressing both of your breasts together & sliding his dick between them.

he let out a high pitched whine, not waiting even a second before immediately thrusting his hips. like before, he had no rhythm at all.

“your probably w-wondering who i—fuck— am.” you weakly attempted to nod your head.

“from the first time i saw you, i knew i needed you in my life. we attend the same college but we don’t have any lectures or classes together. but, you & your bitchy friends sure do love to go to the boba shop i work at. i see you on campus all the time but your always with your bitchy friends so i never approach you. even if you weren’t with them all the time i probably wouldn’t have the confidence to talk to you anyways. i mean— just look at you. everything about you is perfect, your face, your body, your smile, your hair, your life, you always smell so good, your personality.. i could go on for days! but in all honesty, i hated you at first. hell, id even thought about killing you at one point. everything about you was just so sickeningly sweet, being kind to useless nobodies like me, i just couldn’t understand it, so i hated you for it. but as time went on, the more my hatred turned into love… & then that love turned into infatuation & obsession. i’d follow you around everywhere you went, in hopes that maybe you’d finally notice me but you never did. i couldn’t just go up to you & tell you that i was in love with you & everything that you did, so i started stealing your things. the things started off small; your pens, pencils, hair clips, notecards etc. so small you didn’t notice apparently, so i moved on to way bigger things, took more drastic measures; your clothes that you’d change into after a shower in the gym, your money, your school ID. i’ve even broken into your house a few times, i can’t even count the amount of times i’ve jerked off on your bed while smelling & sucking on a pair of used panties that you wore on super hot days. i’d always collect my cum & pour it into your moisturizer or skin care, i even installed a camera in your bathroom to watch you shower & notice just how much fuller & thicker your hygiene products were than the last time you used them. it made me so hard to watch you not notice everything that i took from you or came on. sure you questioned it, but you’d never even imagine that you had an obsessive stalker. when you wore those thigh highs to my job this morning i couldn’t help but sneak a few sedatives into your boba. i accidentally put too many so you passed out almost instantly, your dumbass bitchy friends didn’t even think twice when i told them i could help & when i carried you out of the shop & into the backseat of my car. they seriously could’ve helped you, but they didn’t , so if your gonna blame anyone blame them. i drove all the way home rock hard because the moment that id been dreaming of for months was finally happening. you don’t understand how many times i’ve fucked my fist, imagine it was your mouth— or really any hole of yours for that matter. but all those nights i spent imagining didn’t matter anymore, because i had the real thing right in my backseat. i basically sped all the way home. & once i finally made it the first thing i did was undress you & marvel at your naked body. obviously i’d seen it on camera but it didn’t compare to the actual thing. it’s so perfect, you’re so perfect. as much as i wanted to keep you naked, but i know how much you hate the cold so i dressed you up in that lingerie. fuck, it was so sexy. i kinda regret ripping it just now but you look way better without it on. since i knew i wouldn’t be able to contain myself, i took so many pictures of you in the sluttiest of poses. you kept falling so your a little bruised up but you’re still beautiful either way. when i was just about done with your photo shoot i laid you down on my bed & you begin to stir, i didn’t know how you’d react when you woke up so i injected a little bit of ‘medicine’ into your bloodstream. it temporarily paralyzes you, & makes your brain all fuzzy. oh, & it also works as an aphrodisiac. i know this is probably a lot to take in, but trust me, i’m doing this for you. despite how popular you were & how perfect your life was, you hated every moment of it. but everything is different now that you’re my mommy & i’m your good boy. trust me, you’ll be happy forever.”

you listened to every word that left his mouth, you would’ve been flattered by the amount of kind words he’d said if he hadn’t literally just admitted to thinking about killing you, stalking you, stealing your things, breaking into your house, jerking off & fucking cumming in your skin care, drugging you, kidnapping you & doing things to your unconscious body.

somewhere during his tangent, he’d stopped thrusting his cock between your tits & settled on just playing with & teasing one or your nipples while stroking your cheek with his free hand, though his length was still twitching between your mounds.

you assumed him stroking your cheek was supposed to comfort you but all it did was make everything so much more worse. you haven’t cried this much in years, this cant be your new reality, you refuse to accept it.

you don’t quite recall passing out. but you did wake up in an entirely different room than the one you were in before unconsciousness overtook you. this room was the exact opposite as the one you were previously in, it was clean, nicely decorated, & smelled of flowers. it also somewhat resembles your own bedroom but a few things were off.

you weren’t even able to enjoy or find comfort in it before your head started pounding as memories from earlier today flooded your mind. you shot up from the comfortable bed, despite your entire lower half aching & scrambled to untangle yourself from the sheets, only to find your right ankle chained to something that wasn’t visible from underneath the mattress.

panic began to set in & you frantically tugged on the chain. tears of frustration began to well in your eyes as it just wouldn’t budge. your cries grew louder & louder, loud enough to attract the attention of your captor. 

he practically broke the door off its hinges as he slammed it open. “what’s wrong mommy?” he had the nerve to ask, acting as if what was happening right now was completely normal. you didn’t respond, only staring at him with tears still spilling from your eyes.

he got on the bed & sat down next to you. he yawned before pulling you into his chest. “shhh, shhh it’s okay mommy, your good boy is here for you. you’ll be okay, everything will be okay, i love you so, so much, go back to sleep my beautiful sweet angel.” he kissed you on atop your head multiple times & rubbed your back.

despite how fucked up this entire situation was, you seriously couldn’t help but snuggle into his arms & lean into his touch. even though he’d literally kidnapped you & probably took advantage of you unconscious form you still fell asleep in his arms, too tired & confused to even begin to realize just how big of a mistake you’d been making.

[sheyfu]

sun and moon ☽｡⋆

𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛 a waltz takes place beneath the sun and moon.

feat. kamisato ayato (f!reader)

cw. none :)) js enjoy some tooth-rotting fluff (HELP I HOPE I DIDNT FLOP ERMMMM IM SO BAD AT WRITING ITS NOT EVFEN FUNNY ANYMORE 😓😓) (omg does 'kinda proofread' count as a cw ERMMM HASUDHUSADHA)

note. GRAHHHHHH MS SAIGON RELAPSE (i wasnt able to watch it live when they did the ph leg D: but my cousin sent the clips he took and now i cant stop watching them (especially sun and moon and the last night of the world [and the finale 😈😈😈] so you can expect [kinda] ms saigon related works HUAHDUASHDUH (gang im still tryna expand my vocab when it comes to very flowery words so HAUDHAUDH my works will [probably] get better from here trust) + this was written with miss saigon's sun and moon (specifically lea salonga and simon bowman's version) playing in the bg on repeat so yeah HWHAHAHA wc. 504

“may i have this dance with you?”

the moon casts its gentle gaze upon the beings of chinju forest — a symphony of frogs sing with the breeze as a troupe of bake-danuki accompany the piece with their dance.

in the midst of all these, a hand is offered.

"quite the romantic you are, mr. commissioner,” you show him a grin as you take his hand, slotting your bodies to form a cocoon of melody and warmth.

“only for you, milady,” the commissioner, kamisato ayato, returns your grin — his warmth radiating off your body as you fall into a steady waltz under the bed of stars.

the pair dance under the moon’s watchful gaze; the string of harmony and rhythm from the beings reduce to a gentle diminuendo as the pair lock eyes with each other.

“careful now, ayato. wouldn’t want the shuumatsuban catching their lord tripping and stepping on his lady’s feet now, do we?” a chuckle escapes from your lips as you sway to the tempo of your hearts. 

ayato brings his forehead to yours as he pulls you closer, “hm? is that so? well, lucky for me”, he abruptly turns you to face the scenery of chinju forest — his hands lay on your hips as the ghost of his breath cascades down the shell of your ear, sending chills upon its caress — your gentle waltz coming to a momentary halt. “i have a great dance teacher who coincidentally has the same name of my lady. and for all i care, those ninjas shouldn’t be intruding on their masters’ alone time. hmph.” 

laughter bubbles up in your throat as you hear the rustles of nearby bushes around you. “oh? is that right? well, care to tell me about the oh so wonderful dance teacher you have?” turning to your lover once more, you catch him in an embrace as you resume the gentle sway of your bodies. 

“we’ll be here until dawn then, my dear.” ayato sends you a gentle smile; his hand leads your head to his beating heart, gentle pats landing on it as he does the same to your shoulder. 

“if that’s the case, then i am most honoured to share this night with you.” you feel the rumble of his chest as he entertains your idea.

“well then. should we start with the part when said teacher confessed her undying love for me, her student?” a playful lilt touches upon his words as he spins you around.

"hey now. that sounds like i did something... nefarious." a small pout forms on your lips as your husband chortles at you.

as the night joins with day, their waltz continued without a misstep — the string of harmony and rhythm continue to accompany the lovers as they get lost in their own world of tell and tale.

and with the gazes of both sun and moon, they continue to sway to their own beat — holding each other tight as if it was the last night of the world.

tagging: @ayrastv

🐈‍⬛️: genshin has been added to the list of options for my taglist! please access the gform below if you'd like to be added to my taglist <3

© sheyfu on tumblr

[mage-witha-glock]

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

anyway sometimes I listen to this song and think about Irving Braxiatel and his weird little sibling who gets into trouble and causes scandals and has terrible taste in friends (and possibly doesn’t even belong to this universe and is older than their whole civilization). and then I go insane.

[screampied]

໒꒱ ₊˚ ‘ TALKIN’ BODYYYY ! ’﹒⺡

gojo, toji, geto, nanami, sukuna.

જ warnings. fem! reader, praise, lots of dirty talk + degradation, face-riding, unprotected, spit, dumbification, breath play, spanking, squìrting, size kink, brat taming, edging, mdni.

𖬺 — SUGURU GETŌ.

“…girl, you can’t hear or something?” he’d drag out in a coarse voice. you were heaving, puffs of air leaving your mouth as you panted—ass hovering over his mouth. you were so sensitive, the string that resided between your thighs was lazily pulled to the side. geto brings a kiss toward the very crevices of your clit before sighing. “take a seat on me ‘n gimme another. not done eating.”

you briefly grind against his face, perking up your ass against his mouth. you moan, feeling him bring a wet kiss against your cunt. a good sum of sheeny spit departs and he sloppily laps it up with his tongue. “s-suguruuu,” and he was forevermore such a sloppy eater. your legs felt so hot. it was a sweet feeling of pure heat roaming all throughout your skin. all from his touch too. he liked eating you from behind, a perfect position to have the tip of his tongue brush up against your folds, even bringing a thumb to prod against your neglected and needy hole. “you said to give you one more the l-last time.”

“i know what i said, princess,” he’d reply in a rasp, and you whimper once you feel his teeth tug against the fabric of your underwear. you were covered in your own slick. the same exact slick that ran all down his chin. happily so, he casually laps up his bottom lip that had a remainder of your sweet before giving your pussy a sweet and tender kiss. “wait be quiet,”

and you do, pursing your lips together before feeling him ease a finger inside. your folds make a loud squelching pop, and geto hums before slowly sliding his tongue between your entrance. with his mouth full, he mumbles out a low, “so nasty. listen at how she’s tryna talk back to me, baby.”

“park that pussy for me, theeeere we go,” he’d continue in a whisper against your cunt — you moan, feeling him lick a single stripe between your labia. you felt the near coldness of geto’s tongue piercing titillate against your sopping entrance. he’s been eating you out for hours, tracing the alphabet all over with his tongue to make you drag out orgasm after orgasm. “just one more. f-fuck, ‘m so starved.”

his voice was a gritty low, you bit your bottom lip, finally sitting down on his face and geto continues to suck on your clit again. a long suck, it was so lewd that he’s basically slurping everything out of you. the bottom of his chin was wholly covered with your glistening slick. he playfully laps his tongue in such a slow way to make your knees buckle, thighs aching, teeth damn near shattering…

“s-suguuu,” you’d whinge, feeling the flatness of his tongue slither all over your most sensitive areas. his tongue had such length to it too—you felt him locate every spot with such deepness, the tip of his tongue slurps against your inner folds and you whine loudly. he makes sure to not focus directly on the clit. instead, he fixated his tongue everywhere. all throughout your hood and your wall, he’s nose deep. the point of his nose brushes against your pussy before his tongue lathers at the mere taste of you. he feels you pulsate in his mouth and a smile slants against his lips. “right there, keep going. gonna c-cum.”

“but you said you couldn’t give me another,” he snickers, his tongue starting to go in multiple swift directions. the speed had your legs just trembling beneath him. geto breaks his lips away before spitting right on your folds, running his middle finger down the entrance before giving it a kiss. “such a sloppy girl. dripping like this. messy fuckin’ wet girl,” and he blows right against your pussy to watch you jerkily squirm. “you’re my messy wet girl though, right? all for me?”

you don’t reply and he brings mean spank to your cunt, the palm of his hand now shrouded and covered with nothing but your sweet wetness all over it. he slides his tongue against your entrance, his thumb still gingerly prodding against your hole before grunting. his moans and groans, so pretty to listen to. it got you wet in more ways than you could imagine, it almost sounded like a low purr. “when i talk, i expect a answer back, princess.”

“y-yes,” you’d moan, feeling yourself gradually reach an incoming euphoric high. “yes, sugu.”

“yes what?” he grumbles. “i didn’t tell you to say just yes, dummy.”

him dumbing you down with just a few sentences made you throb. he felt it all in his mouth, on the various nerves of his tongue. you arched your back a bit before speaking in a sweet shaken tone. “i— i’m your messy wet girl. sloppy just for you, suguru.”

“yeah you are,” he huffs out, bringing both rough hands to grip your ass. he gives it a spank, the recoil turning him on. a tent pokes through his pants and he’s hard. geto watches strands of his own spit drip down his pointed chin before giving your cunt a final spank. right before you could finish though, he lightly moves you off of him. you’re panting—a jagged breath being caught in your throat. you’re laid back with your legs now sprawled, staring at him with hooded eyes and he gets right between your legs. “i bet you’re kinda hungry too,” and he leans up close—dark pretty tresses of his hair tickle against your skin before he grips your chin firmly. “loll out that tongue ‘n stick it out for me. say ah like a good girl.”

you whimper, feeling his thumb softly strum against your plump glossed lips. “a-ah,” you’d hum out with your pink tongue rolling out your mouth. geto stared at you with a pussydrunken stare, leaning up close before spitting right into your mouth. your tongue gets gifted with a long string of his saliva and he squeezes your lips together just a little more.

“mm. what do pretty messy girls say afterwards?”

“thank y-you.”

𖬺 NANAMI KENTO.

“sweetheart, if you’re gonna sit on my…lap, you gotta behave yourself,” nanami murmurs—you’d be straddling him while he’s hard at work trying to jot a few things down. a plethora of scattered papers pile his desk. he’s probably been working for hours on end. you could tell from the droopiness of his eyes. he had a hand gently gripping your waist before smiling once you kiss near his neck. “i gotta finish this by midnight or ‘m not gonna hear the end of it tomorrow.”

“kento, i want you,” you’d whisper, softly nibbling against his skin, past his collar, he lets off a groan. as you start to grind against his slacks, you feel his bulge arise. nanami tried to focus his attention towards the dozens of paperwork he had to skim through, yet you teasingly wrap your arms around him. “wouldn’t bending me over this desk be more fun? you work too hard.”

kento grunts, and his groans were a pleasure to listen to. so raspy and strained. feeling himself grow more and more aroused by the sweet sound of your voice—you play with the strap of his belt before planting a wet kiss near the corner of his lip. “hmph. maybe,” and you giggle, grabbing the ballpoint pen away from his hand before tugging on his tie. he leans back, manspread and all before rolling his eyes playfully. “alright. ten minutes. ‘s all you’re gonna get from me.”

so you give him ten minutes, ten precious minutes that ended up turning into two straight hours. you’d be riding nanami so good that the tips of ears start to grow hot. his breath hitched and he can’t help but moan from your hypnotic hips. such filthy hips, it was as if it was on cruise control from the pure rocking movement alone.

“goddamnnn,” he rasps out before his right thigh starts to bounce. he was balls deep, buried all inside of you that you felt him reach every corner and crevice of your walls. nanami had a girth to him, a girth that never failed to make you salivate in your mouth a little. so fat and thick, always the perfect fit for you. he throws his head back before starting to pant. “with you around, ‘m not gonna get anything done.”

“good,” you tease, peppering his chin with multiple sugared kisses. nanami grabs your right ass cheek before giving it a soft spank, caressing it shortly afterward. you allow your hands to slide up his button up shirt before whispering in a needy tone. “talk dirty to me, kento. i like listening to your voice.”

he pants, feeling you jerk and jerk against him. your hands feel all over his body including near his muscles that poke through his shirt. “do you now?” he smiles, beads of sweat starting to race down his eyebrow. he was suddenly amused. he was never really one to talk dirty. nanami was always one to shower you with praises, besides just that alone was enough to make you soaked. “well what do you want me to say, pretty girl?”

nanami wasn’t being a tease, he was genuinely curious—yet he’s taken by surprise once you grab one of his hands, swiftly wrapping it around your neck. “stare into my eyes and um,” you pause, thinking of what to say. he chuckles lowly, feeling your tempo leisurely speed up. you rode him so good that his thighs started to ache and jitter. “call me a d-dirty whore that’s just obsessed with your cock.”

“oh? but that’s too mean,” nanami sneers. “besides, you’re not a whore. you’re my good girl.”

“kento.” you grumble, and now he was teasing.

he chortles at the cute pout on your lips, bringing his left hand to squeeze your right hip—another gingerly wrapping around your throat. light fawn eyes stare right back into you before he hums. “fine, i’ll speak to my girl how she wants,” and his tone was so smooth and rich. you gasp, feeling the abrupt sensation of his plump tip thwack against your g-spot, making your vision see straight stars for a moment. “look at my whore who’s just a obsessed with heh, my cock,” and he’s about to laugh again before feeling you grind against him. “all you think about is dick, i bet? thought you was a smart girl.”

you moan, feeling nanami gently caress the middle part of your neck before tightening his grip on your hip just a bit, making you rock against his lap even further. “you just wanna be my precious cum dump, ‘s that it? overflow your pussy ‘n then i can pull out only to stuff it back in for you?” and then he kisses your cheek. “you’re messy like that, aren’t you, my love?”

“y-yes please,” you’d whimper, rotating your hips in a circular motion. it drove him crazy, you drove him crazy. nanami feels so full, preparing to dump such a thick load right into you. burying your face into his neck, you sneak a hand up his shirt. “fuck your work, just fuck me.”

“oh don’t worry, darlin’ i will,” he grumbles, and that’s when right before you were already to finish, nanami lifts you up before spinning you around. he takes both of your wrists and pins them behind your back. you had the most lewd arch over his desk, your chest pressing up against his scattered papers before he leans right up close to roughly yank your hair back. “now bend over ‘n let your husband kento carry the rest from here.”

𖬺 SUKUNA RYŌMEN.

“hmph,” sukuna scoffs. “you must forgot who you were fuckin’ speaking to,” he’d snarl, and if looks could kill you’d most likely be six feet under. his mere presence made you throb, sukuna makes you lie down on your back before spreading your legs open.

“fuck you,” you mutter, and of course you didn’t mean it, you just liked getting on his nerves, under his skin. “you never fuck me right anyway. i fake my orgasms and everything.”

sukuna smirks. “with me? oh please,” and you nearly chew your words once you watch him rub his fat length right between your folds.

“lotttt of disrespect from a woman with a pussy this wet.” and his tone was dangerously low, you stared right into his eyes and he returns the same gaze. you loathed how currently soaked you were though, irking his nerves was always one way to make him yank climax after climax out of you.

he doesn’t like wasting time, within seconds of straight glaring at you, sukuna starts to sink his fat length into you. slowly but surely, he’s so thick, you felt the texture of him and it instantly made you so full. he watched your eyes flicker and then a hand wraps around your throat. “stare at me the entire time. don’t look away or else.”

“or else wh—”

“listen bitch,” sukuna grumbles.

you were just about to giggle, yet that’s when he makes you shut up by pressing a palm against your stomach. he was in so deep, you felt it all. it felt as if your walls were closing in, soaking in such hefty inches of his cock.

it was almost enough to make you drool. his lukewarm body that felt so tepid against you starts to grind and grind. just a single movement of your hips as a cute attempt of fucking him back and you only end up moaning right in his face. he had such salacious strokes, making sure you felt every inch buried inside of you. “you’re gonna listen to me. you know what—i don’t care if you don’t listen because this pussy’s just gonna do it for you regardless.”

sukuna releases his hand from your tummy and instead wraps it around your throat. with a light squeeze, he adds a little more pressure on your neck and you stare at him. he had you in a mating press potion—it was so lewd, and after a while he was pretty much jackhammering into your cunt. your legs were just idly dangled in the air before locking around his slim waist. “s-sukuna, fuckkk.”

“nasty girls like you don’t deserve to moan my name,” he huffs out, and he’s straight pounding into you. he pulls his hand away from your neck before squeezing your pretty sheeny lips together. “do you even deserve this right now? tell me.”

“y—yes,” you’d squeak out, feeling his weight just pounce and spring against you. his cock plugged so deep inside that you started to feel dizzy. your mind was clouded with nothing but straight blankess. sukuna glares at you and that stupid impish grin that slowly went against your lips. “i deserve to be f-fucked by you.”

he rolls his eyes, and you whimper once his hips strike further and grow more vigorous. “let’s not lie, little girl. you don’t deserve shit.”

he sounds annoyed, yet despite that he still leaned in to give you a wet kiss on your lips. you whine, kissing back and he was thrashing his hips into you so good that you cutely had to cling onto his biceps for support.

“s-sukuna, ‘m gonna cum.” and you knew you were. that feeling was forever imaginable, the intense build up had you nearly breathless. he watches as you’re reaching your peak and you’re starting to whimper and whinge from how deep and slow his strokes suddenly get. the bed — the loud creaks could be made into a mixtape from how vocal it was. “fuckkk, ‘kuna. i’m c-cumming.”

and once it hits you, it was at full impact. it came in waves, you felt a sudden rush come to you and your orgasm was so cute.

he felt you pulsing continuously even afterwards. you needed a moment, a moment or two. each and every muscle throughout your body felt ridged. vibrations coarse all throughout your veins before you slump back with the most dumbest post expression. you were so dumb, you knew you probably looked like a mess, all cock-drunk.

“was that real, baby?” he hums, squeezing your lips even more before pulling out. you attempt to glare at him but you only moan once he leans in to lick near your neck.

“shut u-up.”

“make me, whore.”

𖬺 SATORU GOJO.

“really?” gojo says in a sweet tone, he’s more amused if anything—especially after hearing how his pretty best friend’s never had a man make her squirt before. “never ever? as in like, never in your life?”

you shake your head, being propped up against his bare chest. he’s so warm against you. with a single hand, gojo’s got your legs sprawled all open. he reaches down to toy between what’s between those sweet plush thighs of yours. “they’ve all tried but it never w-works.”

“oh you poor thing,” he says with a faux tone, you moan once he starts to swiftly maneuver tender circles against your panties that were still attached to you.

laced panties, a thumb of his brushes against the fabric before he sighs. his breath was minty, that low sigh was right up against your ear and it made you soak profusely. speaking of scent though, his cologne was madly loud.

so redolent, it was a scent you’d always get used to whenever you were so close to him like this. “tell ya what. i’ll make you squirt within five minutes. put all those stupid guys to shame. you want that?”

you nod, desperately craving it. that was all he needed to hear.

once you gave him to go ahead, gojo was determined to make you create such a filthy mess on his fingers. he knew all the right directions to go, his fingers alone knew just where to occupy against your pussy. not even a minute passed before you’re already coating his thickly slender digits with such amounts of your slick. he then slides your panties to the side before continuing.

“oooooh,” he purrs, hearing the squelches your own cunt makes. “she’s so talkative today. poor pussy’s been so neglected though, fuck,” you whimper, parting your legs apart just a bit more as he’s just mindlessly mending your walls. the stretch he created, your eyes were hooded and you dug your hands into his wrist. “i’m gonna make a little mess out of you, angel.”

your head leans back against his chest and you let off a loud squeal once gojo’s fingers position a certain way. he inserts another—yet this time, it’s his middle finger. as of now he’s immitating a bowling ball grip. two thick fingers shoved deep inside of you to where you can barely hold your legs open. “s-satoruuu,” you’d whinge out, feeling your left leg start to sporadically bounce. his tempo was just right, you swallow thickly before gasping once he spanks your pussy twice. “i think ‘m gonna s-squirt.”

“no, you are gonna squirt,” he slyly says, bringing a soft kiss towards the left part of your collarbone. whilst your leg bounces, you fell in love with the way he massaged your inner walls. it was so hypnotizing—the grip he had with his fingers. he tickles near your nub, all inside of your clit before you choke out a needy sob. you were preparing to say something but he shushes you. “shhh. i don’t wanna hear you right now, let this pussy talk for you instead.”

it was such silkiness in his tone, you lean into his touch before he starts to repeat the direction of his fingers. they curve all inside of you, flicking against your pussy before thrusting in and out, in and out. “yeah. lie back ‘n let me show you why they call me the honored one.”

if you weren’t so dumb from his fingers, you’d roll your eyes. after a few concise moments, he pulls his fingers out and your eyes roll anyway—this time out of pure pleasure and ecstasy though. you don’t even realize you’re squirting before gojo grins and points it out.

“thereee she goes,” and you felt so drenched, soaking his fingers — cool air wafts against your skin as you sat still before he softly trails his free hand down your waist. gojo glances at his watch before a dumb smile spreads against glossed lips. “three minutes. heh, new record for me baby. now let’s try to make it under thirty seconds.”

𖬺 FUSHIGURO TOJI.

“the fuck you touching my pussy for, woman?”

toji snarls, and you moan once he smacks your hand away. he had you on all fours—dumbly getting a glimpse of your pathetic reflection through the mirror directly in front of you. you just came and your legs were insanely wobbly. his voice was so deep and stern, it made you throb as you were cutely arched over for him. “thought i taught you well. keep your hands to yourself, only my hands get to feel.”

“but—”

“but nothing slut,” he mutters, and you gasp once you feel his angry mushroom tip start to open you up again. it eases its way into you and you don’t even realize the drool that’s seeping down into your pillow. “touch yourself again ‘n i’m gonna leave you on this bed to make yourself get off. you got me?”

you moan, your ass all up in the air with your left cheek practically smushed against the mattress.

“yeah but can i please touch myself toji.”

all he replies with is a subtle “nah,” and you whimper once he deftly drills his way inside of you. such thick inches that eased its way into your walls, your mouth opened and you let off the sweetest whimper. “saying please isn’t gonna change the fact that this pussy’s only for my hands to touch. not you, girl.”

but toji doesn’t even straight up fuck you.

he’s fully inside before he’s suddenly pulling straight out — then he slaps his fat tip against your folds, smearing the remnants of his cum against your entrance and watching you pulsate. he hums to himself, nudging his cockhead in and out of your slit just to watch you wriggle. “go ‘head, doll. ask me to touch y’erself again, do it. try me.”

it’s a trick, you knew that. it was apparent, yet your lips pursed and you were preparing to ask anyway, toji knew you all too well because he chuckles, shoving your face into the pillow.

“yeah, exactly,” he mutters after about twenty seconds of pure silence passes. a mere awkward silence. “no fuckin’ back talk,” and then you whimper once he continues to slap his tip against your slick entrance—you just wanted him back inside. he was a constant tease, going in only to pull out. the pout that stretched against your face was so adorable, he saw right through the mirror and grins. “aw. want me to start up again?”

“yes,” you immediately reply in a soft tone. “want you to make me c-cum again, toji.”

“tell me sorry first ‘n i’ll think about it.” he gripes.

you whine, this current position — this angle, it was so lewd.

being all hunched over with your ass in the air. you made a cute attempt at trying to wiggle your ass against his dick but he purposely spanks you to quit it. you’ve never felt more soaked purely from his words alone. “i’m sorry.”

“fuck your sorry. make me believe it.” he utters.

“i’m…..sorry for touching myself,” you corrected yourself, cutely growing frustrated—you speak in breathy pants.

the entire atmosphere felt so humidly hot. once toji runs a finger down your spine, you shudder. as he traces against your back muscles, his tip was just inches away from deepening further inside you but he pauses, awaiting for your sweet little attempt of an apology. “i shouldn’t have t-touched what belongs to you. i love you.”

toji smirks. “i agree,” and then he makes your chest collapse further down against the bed—you glance near the mirror and he’s staring dead at you before replying in a husky.

“i love you too, princess,” and then your heart flutters, yet your smile fades once he breaks away, snickering. “but i don’t think you’ve learned your lesson. we’ll try this again tomorrow, brat.”

[churipu]

YOU SLEEPING ON A COUCH AFTER AN ARGUMENT 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

featuring. gojo satoru, geto suguru, toji fushiguro x reader

note. i hv so many ideas right now apart from what i'm actually supposed to be focusing on, so...pls excuse me.

GOJO SATORU. arguments with gojo are a pain in the ass, he's petty and everything will be a mess. he's so stubborn that it actually baffles you sometimes — and he calls you rock head?

being a sorcerer is never an easy job. gojo wakes up every day, not knowing whether he'd die in a mission or get to live another day. so when you brought up your concerns about it to him, the male didn't take it lightly. things have been tight for him, and you're walking on eggshells for the past few days.

the slightest thing angered him, like how his sleeve got stuck on the door handle, or the way he curses out loudly when he stubs his toe on the coffee table. it puts him in a shitty mood, so when that happens, and you try to talk to him about his job.

gojo gets very pissy about it.

frankly, you understood where his anger comes from. and it was part of your fault to bother him the moment he came back from work exhausted, it was bound to happen so you weren't really blaming him at all from the projecting of his anger to you the night before — he didn't say hurtful things, gojo knew better than that. all he did was tell you to leave him alone and get out of his sight for the night.

and you did. sleeping alone on the couch, all sprawled out, an arm dangling on the edge; while a string of drool dribbled down the corner of your lips.

you seemed to not mind having to sleep on the couch (under your own want). but your boyfriend did, the moment he knew your bed time strikes — he came out of the room and eyed your sleeping form. guilt washing over him when all you did was care about his being and how dangerous the jujutsu world is.

gojo approaches you and gently carried you in his arms, an arm right under your bottom and his other arm around your waist. hoisting you up like a baby as your cheek leaned onto his shoulder, letting the drool blotch his shirt. he doesn't care at all.

the male tucks you in the bed, pulling the covers over you before slipping next to you, chest pressed to your back and an arm resting on your hip. gojo will never let you sleep a whole night on the couch, he will bring you to sleep with him and apologize the very next day for being such an ass.

he also, tried to make it up to you by cooking a classic english breakfast. which ended up in chaos — and you both decided to order take out instead.

GETO SUGURU. geto is usually calm and collected; he doesn't really get angry at anything. even if he does, he mostly keeps it to himself unless it really bothers him. but since humans have certain capacities to their own emotion — geto is not spared from being angry, no matter how calm he is.

after the death of amanai, you could feel him change. your geto. it was traumatizing for him, and you understood. always being there for him, never leaving him alone. the dark circles under his eyes were apparent, and it looked like he hasn't had a good night sleep for what seemed like . . . weeks, or months, if that's even possible.

geto appreciated your company, really. but sometimes, he also wanted to be left alone to dwell on his feelings. he didn't want to end up saying hurtful things to you because he was so angry at himself. but he did, and god was it horrible.

he was already feeling like shit before the argument— which if you see, wasn't really an argument at all. it was one-sided, geto was telling you off and you didn't say anything back. because you knew he didn't mean it. he almost desperately begged for you to leave him alone because your presence was "annoying" him and he couldn't stand it.

although geto said it in a heap of moment. he didn't mean it, and before he could say anything else, you tell him that you were going to be sleeping on the couch, so if he needed anything he was free to come to you.

geto didn't stop you. he was busy hating on himself for telling you that — and believe me when i say that he, right there, almost cried out of frustration.

he tossed and turned on his bed. where you were usually on too, beside him, holding his hand whilst he sleep. your hushed voice lulling him into a peaceful slumber; but you weren't there today, all because he told you to leave him alone. geto sat up, his eyelids heavy, but no matter how long he shut is, they always open back up.

with slow and heavy steps, he approaches you on the couch. and geto had always knew that you were a light sleeper, so his footsteps awoken you. seeing your eyes flutter open, geto slid on the couch, laying himself on top of you — head on your chest, arms clutching onto your shirt like he's desperate for your presence, and his legs intertwining with yours.

getos' hushed apologies were heard as he leaned into your warmth, and you told him that you were never angry. brushing his hair, massaging his scalp using your fingertips before lulling him to sleep, and geto did. almost immediately. and so did you.

he could never sleep without you. whether it being on the bed, the couch, or anywhere else — as long has you were with him, he will find the ability to drift off.

TOJI FUSHIGURO. is an ass. let's face it — he wouldn't give a fuck if you decided to sleep on the couch after an argument, at least for the first couple of hours. toji is a blunt man, and he's a sole believer that nobody could bear sleeping on the couch when there's a bed in the house.

but you were there to prove him wrong.

after an argument going south, he finds you grabbing your pillow and then seeking shelter on the couch. and he clicked his tongue in annoyance, knowing you'd come crawling back on the mattress after a few hours — because who'd choose the couch over the bed?

you. apparently.

he slept without a single care, thinking of words to say when you finally decided to come back on the bed. but when he woke up at three am, his arm searching to find your body, but realizing all he was catching was air — he finally realized that you weren't coming back onto the bed.

and it annoyed him. he was angry that you weren't there. and at three am? he was already wide awake, walking out of the room angrily. but his gaze softened when he saw you asleep, the constant flashing light from the television panning on your body; toji walks over, snatches the remote and turns the device off.

letting out a soft sigh, toji squats down, flicking your forehead. and the action was enough to make you grimace lightly in your sleep — although not enough to wake you up completely. the male chuckled and prepped an arm under the hollow under your knees, and an arm across your shoulder.

with ease he brought you into your shared room and he laid you down on the bed, covering your body with the blanket before he slips into his own portion of the bed. scooting closer to you as you instinctively nuzzled into his chest, seeking for comfort.

toji wouldn't admit that he was the one who brought you into the bed and would end up saying how you came crawling back at three am. you always find out the truth though, and toji tells you to forget about whatever he did because he won't be doing it again (he will).

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