#finally some justice for my mans after a whole year

[snouse]

congrats king im so happy for u <333333

[strawbeerossi]

The Ballad Of Dr. Reid

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: When you zone out in the middle of one of your lectures, your professor asks you to stay after class to check in on you.

Content/Warnings: Power imbalance, Professor/Student, age gap (Spencer is in his 40s, reader is in her 20s), minor hand kink, porn with little plot, heated kissing, fingering, spit, unprotected sex, exhibitionism (kinda, right?), reader gets a facial

Word Count: 1.9K

Kinktober Day Two: Power Imbalance

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

You’d always had a liking for criminal justice, so taking the courses in college seemed like a no brainer. You really liked Criminology 1424. It was an interesting class, one that piqued your interest far more than the other classes you were in the process of taking. 

In addition to being genuinely interested in the subject, you were more interested in the professor of the class; Dr. Spencer Reid.

He was soft spoken for the most part, a little on the awkward side but that was okay. He was experienced from his fifteen years in the Behavioral Analysis Unit and would use cases he’d faced for examples in his lessons. His lectures were long and albeit pretty boring at times but you had no problem watching the man at the front of class talk, his hands emphasizing just how prepared he was for the topic at hand. You’d realized that there were topics he definitely enjoyed getting into, his body language and his overexaggerated gestures being proof of it.

You’d always thought the FBI and the darkness he faced on a near daily basis would exhaust him, make him harder and more stoic, the seriousness of the world on his shoulders. No, instead he offered smiles, helped any student who came to him, and was painfully oblivious to the amount of young men and women auditing the class just to admire the attractive professor.

It was like any other lecture, delving into the intricacies of triggers and what could bring them on. It was a lesson he liked, judging by his animation this evening. You’d done your best to keep up, to get plenty of notes jotted down due to this being on the impending final. However, you were too busy drooling over the curly haired beauty, his veined hands flailing with each word that fell from his lips. 

What you wouldn’t give to have those hands on your body, to feel the gentle touch of your professor as he was letting his fingertips memorize all the dips and curves of your body, to familiarize himself with how to pleasure you.

His hands on-

“Y/N? Are you alright?”

You were snapped from your thoughts. The sound of your name falling from his mouth was like sweet honey, drizzling over your eardrums as you could feel your face heat up from embarrassment. Great. Now the whole class is looking at you. 

“Y-Yes, I’m okay. I’m sorry, just, uh, not all the way here today.” You explained, slowly looking back down at the notebook covered in scribbles. So much for getting any work done today. 

The class passed by painfully slowly after that. Even the attractive man in front of you didn’t seem to speed up the clock. You’d sat quietly, giving up with the notes aspect as you’d switched to doodling on the edges of your notebook. You’d done your best to try and be one of the first ones out whenever your professor dismissed the class full of students. However your shoulders slumped with defeat when the sea of bodies filed out first.

There was no clean getaway.

“Y/N, do you mind staying back and having a chat?”

Fuck.

Mustering up enough courage to face the man you’d gotten distracted fantasizing about, you were approaching his desk. Even up close, he was a beautiful man. Even in his early to mid forties, he still looked delicious. “I apologize for getting distracted earlier. I was just-”

“Looking at me? Y/N,” There was a deep breath that left his lips. “You can tell me if this tie is ugly. My coworker Penelope insisted I wear it. I love her but some of her ties aren’t really my style.” 

He was joking, easing the awkwardness and the unknown tension filling the lecture hall. Maybe he’d been feeling the same way about you. He looked at you a lot as is, however you may have just been in a delusional state of mind right now. There was a hope that Spencer would reciprocate those feelings. “It’s not.. It’s a little ugly but that, uh, wasn’t what I was, uh, staring at.” You decided to just be honest. Worst you can do is transfer out of the class. 

Or run away to a new city, start over again at a new university. 

“Really?” 

“Really. Sir, with the risk of coming across as inappropriate, it’s hard to pay attention to you at the front of the class. It’s not a bad thing. You just always look…” You paused and gave him a once over. “Really nice.” You spoke. 

There was a blush that spread across the older man’s cheeks, an eyebrow raising. “You think so? At risk of sounding even more inappropriate and unprofessional,” He paused as he leaned forward a bit, arms crossed over his chest. “It’s hard to teach when you come in looking as beautiful as you do. Makes me just wanna stare at you the whole class.” 

The words were lower than usual, a rush of warmth going straight to your core from the mere compliment. 

“Plus when you come in with a new lipstick shade..” His lanky body was pushing off the desk before he approached, his fingers resting gently under your chin before tilting it upwards. “It drives me insane. You may think I don’t notice but…” This was crossing the boundary of teacher and student, his thumb swiping over your lower lip. “I do. Makes me think of these pretty lips wrapped around me, those eyes glossed over with pleasure.” He hummed, chuckling at the way your breath hitched, eyes locking with his. 

You didn’t know what came over you at this point, however you could help yourself as you were launching yourself forward, mouth smashing against his in a quick kiss that he seemed enthusiastic to reciprocate. His hands were gripping your waist, pulling your frame closer to his chest as the kiss filled with desire and hunger was escalating.

The next thing you knew, you were being sat against the desk at the front of the lecture hall, your eyes widening. “H-Hold on, don't you have another class??” She asked immediately as she let her hands squeeze the broad shoulders. “Yeah, in twenty minutes.” Spencer responded, hands trailing to the waistband of the pants you were wearing. The thought of having sex in a hall where anyone could walk in at any point was enough to send a shiver down your spine. You weren’t one for exhibitionism normally, however you weren’t gonna turn this down. 

“Fuck it.” Your words made a grin spread across Spencer’s face, his lips pressing a chaste kiss against your lips while working on getting your pants pulled off, panties following in one swift motion. Licking his hand, the older male didn’t waste any time before moving the wet hand between your legs, his spit working as lube as he wanted to make sure you were wet enough for the deed. Lord knows that he didn’t want you tearing at any point. 

The feeling of his fingers brushing against your clit had already sent electricity through your body, a light gasp escaping your lips. 

“Such a pretty girl, bet you haven’t ever had any man pay attention to you, huh? I can only imagine you’ve been with selfish little boys who haven’t even attempted to bring you to orgasm..” He sighed playfully, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips once more. He was addicted, drinking in your moans as his thumb was massaging your clit, one finger pushed deep in your weeping hole while he was working you open.

This was definitely something new, you didn’t really sleep around so the few times you’d engaged in casual sex were quick, rushed. You sure as hell knew that the past couple of dudes couldn’t even find your clit. You were intoxicated on his touch the small movements he made eliciting moans and gasps into his mouth. With your hips rolling against the touch, you let your eyes flutter shut. 

“As much as I hate to stop, we’ve got fifteen minutes and I’m dying to be inside of you.” He murmured against your lips, his hands moving to undo his belt before tugging his pants down his legs, boxers being pulled down soon after. The sight of his hard cock had your full attention. “Ready? You’re sure you want to keep going?”

“Yes!” You rasped, making him chuckle while his large hands were spreading your thighs apart, letting a trail of his spit fall onto your pussy before he was giving himself a few tugs. The thick tip of his shaft was spreading the spit onto your cunt, a hum falling from his lips. So pretty. God, I hate having to crunch time like this.” He groaned while letting the thick head push into your hole, your mouth falling open at the delicious burn that came with the stretch of your inner walls. If only you knew about your professor’s cock sooner.. All the stress of studying for quizzes would’ve been a million times easier.

His hips snapped without warning, a loud moan falling from your mouth while the male couldn’t help but chuckle as he quickly clasped a hand over your mouth. “Shh. Can’t have anyone hearing you.” His hand barely did justice to hide your moans and cries as his hips continued to roughly thrust, the desk rocking steadily with each movement.

“Fuck. It’s like this pussy was made for me, look at the way she takes my cock and is desperate for more. So greedy.” The vulgar words from your otherwise sweet and seemingly innocent man’s mouth was strangely attractive, attractive to a level that your inner walls were spasming around the hard cock nestled deep inside of you, so far you felt like he was hitting your cervix. Then again, you could’ve just been exaggerating. 

With your fingernails digging into his clothed shoulders, you could feel a knot in your stomach, tightening so tight that you felt like the floodgates were going to burst open. 

“I-I’m gonn-” You stuttered, words muffled against his hand while Spencer nodded. 

“I’m almost there. Cum for me.” His words were husky, tone dripping with ecstasy as he let out a low groan. 

As your pussy clenched tightly around his cock, the both of you were letting out a mixture of groans, mons and even a few whimpers slipping from the older man’s lips. It was all too much, finally letting the dam break as you were letting your head fall back, mouth agape as your thighs were shaking, your creamy arousal making a ring around his cock.

There was a little whine at the emptiness you felt when his cock wasn’t inside of you, the male opting to gently move you from the desk before putting you on your knees. “Look at you. Fuck. Stick your tongue out for me. Make sure you close your eyes too. I don’t wanna give you any infections.” Even in a huffing and panting mess, he looked out for you.

Doing as you were told, you let your mouth fall open while your eyes fluttered shut, the male groaning at the sight as he roughly fisted at his cock. There was only a few pumps before his cock was twitching, it being his turn for his head to fall back as he was painting your face with his spent. The load was a lot more than you expected.

Maybe he needed this just as bad as you did. 

As the act was coming to an end, Spencer was trying to catch his breath while tugging up his pants and boxers. He’d retrieved a few tissues from his desk before leaning down to wipe your face, a light hum leaving his lips. “Maybe you can talk to me about some extra notes you could add to your doodle book. Say over coffee tomorrow morning?”

“Deal.”

[pucksandpower]

Lover

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: the little (and not so little) ways that you and Charles show your love for each other

You’re in the kitchen, phone pressed to your ear as you listen intently to Charles’ mother give you her famous tiramisu recipe step-by-step. “Now, this next part is very important,” she stresses. “You’ll need one cup of granulated sugar to add to the mascarpone filling.”

“Got it, one cup sugar for the filling,” you confirm.

Pascale chuckles warmly. “I’m so glad Charles has found such a lovely girl who wants to learn my recipes. He’s always loved my tiramisu since he was a little boy.”

You smile, touched by her kind words. You and Charles have been together for a year now, but it still makes your heart flutter to be so accepted into his close-knit family.

“It means so much to me that you’re sharing this recipe with me,” you tell Pascale sincerely.

You chat with her a while longer, going over some of the trickier steps and getting tips on how to best soak the ladyfingers. Finally, you have the full recipe memorized and are ready to give it a try.

“Okay, I think I’ve got it now. Thank you so much again, Pascale! I really appreciate you taking the time to walk me through this.”

“Of course, chère! Let me know how it turns out. Charles is a lucky man to have such a thoughtful girlfriend,” Pascale says warmly before hanging up.

You grin, eager to get started. You know tiramisu is Charles’ absolute favorite dessert and you want to surprise him with a homemade version tonight after he finally comes back from his latest race.

Humming to yourself, you gather the ingredients — mascarpone, eggs, espresso, cocoa powder, and of course, the sugar. You double check you have everything and preheat the oven so the ladyfingers will be perfect.

As you start the recipe, you feel a rush of excitement. You follow each step meticulously, Pascale’s voice guiding you in your mind. You carefully separate the eggs and beat the whites to stiff peaks. When it’s time to add the sugar to the mascarpone filling, you pause.

Now, which one was the sugar again? You look between the two identical jars of white powder, second-guessing yourself.

Shoot, you should have labeled them.

After a moment of hesitation, you decide on the bowl on the left. Yes, that must be sugar, you reassure yourself. You mix it into the silky mascarpone filling until it’s perfectly combined. Once assembled, you spread the filling over the ladyfingers and cover it with a final dusting of cocoa powder.

It looks absolutely beautiful. You did it! You made Charles’ favorite dessert completely from scratch. You can’t wait to see the look on his face when he takes the first delicious bite.

You glance at the clock as you clean up. Charles will be home soon. You carefully store the tiramisu in the fridge to chill until after dinner.

Right on time, you hear Charles’ keys in the lock. You hurry to greet him, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. “I missed you!”

He grins and nuzzles your neck. “And I missed you, ma belle.”

Over dinner on the balcony, Charles tells you all about the race and his ambitious one-stop strategy under the Suzuka cherry blossoms. You listen attentively, asking questions and laughing at his dramatic reenactments.

Finally, it’s time for dessert. “I have a surprise for you,” you say with a playful smile.

Charles’ eyes light up. “Oh really? Do tell!”

You bring the chilled tiramisu to the table, along with two small plates and forks. “Ta-da! I made your favorite, with your mom’s secret recipe.”

“No way, you’re kidding!” Charles exclaims. He takes in the layered dessert with delight. “It looks incredible, mon cœur. I can’t believe you did this for me.”

You blush happily as you dish out servings for both of you. “I hope I did it justice. Your mom walked me through the whole thing over the phone.”

Charles takes a big eager bite, closing his eyes as he savors it. “Mmm … it’s absolutely delicious,” he declares after swallowing. “Seriously, this is amazing. Here, you have to try it!”

He holds out a forkful toward you. You accept it into your mouth, immediately bursting into incredulous laughter. “Oh my god, this is so salty! I definitely screwed up somewhere. You don’t have to eat it!”

But Charles just grins and takes another hearty bite. “What do you mean? It tastes perfect to me.”

You stare at him in confusion. “You can’t actually like this, Charles. It’s like I poured the entire salt shaker in by accident.”

“No no, it’s great! The best tiramisu I’ve ever had,” he insists. Seeing your disbelief, he takes your hand from across the table. “Really, Y/N. I love it because you made it just for me. With love. That’s what makes it so special.”

You feel your insides turn soft and melty at his words. “You’re just saying that to be nice,” you protest weakly.

He shakes his head. “I’m saying it because it’s true. Because ...” He pauses, looking into your eyes sincerely. “Because I’m completely in love with you, mon amour. I’d eat a thousand salty tiramisus if it made you smile like this.”

You can’t help the joyful laugh that escapes you. “You’re such a hopeless romantic, you know that?” You tease him.

“Only for you,” he flirts back with a playful wink.

You lean across the table to kiss him tenderly. When you pull back, the adoration shining in his green eyes leaves you breathless.

Maybe he’s right. It doesn’t matter that the tiramisu is an utter fail. All that matters is that you made it with love.

And that’s the sweetest taste of all.

***

It’s been a few weeks since your salty tiramisu mishap. You and Charles laughed about it afterwards, but you were still determined to make him something special with your own two hands.

So you decided to take up crocheting. It was trickier than you expected, but you persevered, watching YouTube tutorials and getting tangled in yarn for hours.

Finally, after a month of work, you’ve produced your first wearable creation — a sweater for Charles.

It’s an oversized style, cream colored with red racing stripes across the chest. You did your best to evenly stitch the rows, but there are gaps in some places that cause the stripes to waver drunkenly.

The sleeves are several inches too long, dangling adorably over Charles’ hands when he tries it on. And the neckline gapes open no matter how he tugs it.

But none of the flaws matter to Charles. His face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning when you present it to him.

“You made this? For me?” He asks as he eagerly pulls it on.

You nod, suddenly shy. “I wanted to make something special for you, even if my skills are still .... developing,” you admit with an embarrassed chuckle.

But Charles is beaming, admiring himself in the mirror. “It’s perfect! Seriously, I love it. This is the best gift ever!”

He engulfs you in a big hug, sleeves flopping over you. You hug him back, relieved and happy he appreciates your efforts.

From that day on, Charles insists on wearing the sweater constantly, even styling it with whatever eclectic pants he decides to wear on race weekends.

You try to discourage him — the holes along the hem are getting bigger from snagging and the neckline is truly unsalvageable.

But Charles won’t hear it. “Are you kidding? This is my new lucky charm!” He declares. “I have to wear it for every race now.”

Sure enough, he starts a winning streak whenever he dons your handmade sweater, even though it’s quite a departure from the fitted shirts and designer hoodies he previously favored, leaving his fans scratching their heads at the sudden change.

You watch in amused endearment as he proudly wears your gift for candid pre-race interviews and photo-ops. The overlong sleeves just make his exuberant gestures even more adorable.

Finally, a reporter works up the courage to ask him about the quirky sweater. “That’s quite a statement piece you have been arriving in each Sunday,” the reporter comments during a press conference. “What made you decide to wear it?”

Charles’ face lights up even more. “My sweater? It was handmade for me by my incredible girlfriend,” he announces, making you blush furiously from the audience.

“She worked so hard on it, even though crocheting is totally new to her. So I wear it to show how much I appreciate her and how talented she is,” he continues sincerely.

The reporters “aww” as Charles shows off the uneven stitches like they’re couture. “It’s my good luck charm now too! She put so much love into making it that I feel like I can’t lose whenever I have it on.”

He looks directly at you, eyes shining. “It’s the best gift I’ve ever received, because she made it just for me. I’m the luckiest man in the world to be with someone so thoughtful and caring.”

You have to wipe away joyful tears at his heartfelt words. You never imagined your clumsy crocheting would come to mean so much to him.

But Charles wears that sweater for every race, no matter how tattered it gets. Because for him, it represents something priceless — your love.

***

You hum along to the radio as you stir the melted chocolate in a bowl. The rich aroma fills the air of your shared apartment. Today is Valentine’s Day and you want to surprise your boyfriend with homemade chocolate-covered strawberries when he gets home from training.

You dip the first plump, red strawberry into the silky chocolate, letting the excess drip off before placing it gently onto a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. One by one, you coat each strawberry, taking care to fully submerge them.

When the tray is full, you quickly pop one glistening strawberry into your mouth and slide the rest into the fridge to let the chocolate harden. As you wait, you tidy up the kitchen, washing the bowls and utensils used to make the treat. A glance at the clock on the microwave tells you Charles will be home soon.

The sound of the front door opening makes you grin. “Mon amour, I’m back!” Charles calls out.

You grab the tray of chocolate-covered strawberries and head towards his voice. “Welcome home! I have a surprise for y-”

You stop short, your throat suddenly feeling scratchy and tight. Your lips tingle oddly.

Confused, you lift a hand to your neck. Is this just excitement to see Charles? But no, your tongue is starting to swell now too. Your breathing becomes labored.

Charles rounds the corner. “Mon ange, what’s wro-” His eyes widen as he takes in your distress. In a few quick strides he is by your side, the tray clattering forgotten to the floor. “What’s happening?”

You wheeze, barely able to force out words. “Can’t … breathe …”

Charles sweeps you into his arms and runs for the front door. “Hospital. Now.”

You cling to him, each ragged breath a struggle. The world seems to blur and tilt alarmingly.

Then somehow you’re in Charles’ car, speeding down the street. One of his hands grips the wheel while the other clutches yours tightly. “Just hold on, stay with me. We’re almost there.”

You try to respond but only manage a choked gurgle. Black spots swim across your vision. A feeling of detachment steals over you.

The car screeches to a stop outside the emergency department entrance. Charles lifts you from the passenger seat, calling for help. There is a flurry of activity as a team of doctors and nurses rushes over with a gurney.

You are barely aware of being wheeled into an exam room, too focused on trying to pull air into your lungs. A mask is fitted over your face, dispensing blessed oxygen. An IV is inserted into your arm.

The medical staff works quickly, asking Charles questions as they begin treatment. Antihistamines. Steroids. Epinephrine. The medications slowly start to counteract your reaction. The vice-like tightness in your chest and throat gradually lessens.

After what feels like an eternity, you are able to take full breaths again. The room comes back into focus, no longer spinning. Charles sits at your bedside, clutching your hand, his handsome face creased with worry.

The doctor examines you, nodding with satisfaction as your symptoms continue to improve. “It appears you had a severe allergic reaction. We’ll run some tests to determine the cause.”

Charles looks stricken. “But how? What could have possibly …” His gaze falls on your swollen lips. “The strawberries,” he whispers.

You nod weakly. It had to have been. You’ve never reacted to them before, but an allergy can develop at any time.

Charles smoothes back your hair, distress pouring off of him. “I’m so sorry, mon cœur. I should have been there with you.”

You squeeze his hand. “You couldn’t have known. I’m okay now thanks to you.”

He just shakes his head, unconvinced.

The testing confirms it — you are now mysteriously allergic to strawberries. The doctor gives you an EpiPen prescription and strict instructions to the fruit in the future.

After several more hours of observation, you are finally discharged from the hospital with an exhausted Charles supporting you.

The sun has long since set on what was supposed to have been a romantic Valentine’s Day. Instead, you spent it swollen and terrified in the ER.

Back home, Charles tucks you into bed, insisting you rest. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror — puffy-faced and red-eyed — and cringe. Some Valentine you turned out to be.

You reach for Charles’ hand again. “I’m so sorry I ruined our evening. I wanted it to be perfect but instead I ended up scaring you half to death and forcing you to rush me to the hospital.”

Charles silences you with a gentle kiss. “Not another word, mon amour. You have nothing to apologize for. All that matters is that you are safe.”

He caresses your cheek, looking at you with such love and tenderness it makes your heart ache. “You could never ruin anything. You are the light of my life — my everything. No Valentine’s Day is complete without you.”

You feel yourself tearing up. Even after the ordeal of this evening, he still looks at you like you hung the moon.

“You’re still the most beautiful Valentine I’ve ever had, you know that? A little swelling can’t hide that.” Charles brushes away your tears and pulls you close. “Rest now. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

You nestle into his embrace, letting his warmth and steady heartbeat soothe you. As you drift off, you can’t help but marvel at how lucky you are to have this man. Even at your puffiest and most distressed, he thinks you’re beautiful.

No matter what surprises life throws at you, with Charles by your side you know everything will be okay. He loves you unconditionally — swollen lips, hospital visits, and all.

***

“Close your eyes,” you say to Charles as you lead him into the living room.

He laughs and covers his eyes with his hands. “What are you up to, mon amour?”

You grin, though he cannot see it. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

You guide him across the room, hands on his shoulders. He shuffles along, peeking through his fingers.

“No peeking!” You scold, and he squeezes his eyes shut again, smiling.

You position him in front of the coffee table. “Okay,” you say. “You can open your eyes now.”

Charles drops his hands. On the table sits a large gift-wrapped box with a massive red bow on top. His eyes go wide with surprise and delight.

“For me?”

You nod, bouncing on your toes excitedly. “Happy birthday!”

He pulls you into a tight hug. “You are too good to me, ma belle. Thank you.” Leaning down, he captures your lips in a sweet kiss.

You swat his shoulder playfully. “You don’t even know what it is yet! Open it.”

Charles grins and turns his attention to the present. He carefully unties the bow and lifts the lid on the box. Inside sits a sleek red bomber jacket with the Ferrari logo embroidered on the chest. He runs his fingers over the leather appreciatively.

“This is beautiful,” he murmurs.

“Look on the back,” you prompt.

Charles turns the jacket over. Across the back, in bold white letters, it reads: DADDY.

His eyes go wide again, and for a moment he just stands there gaping at the jacket. Then his eyes roll back in his head and he collapses to the floor in a dead faint.

“Charles!” You rush to his side, kneeling next to him on the plush carpet. Gently you pat his cheek, trying to rouse him. “Charles, wake up!”

After a few tense moments, his eyelashes begin to flutter. You breathe a sigh of relief as he opens his eyes.

“Wha … what happened?” He mumbles.

“You fainted, silly.”

You help him sit up slowly. He puts a hand to his head, still looking dazed.

“I had the strangest dream …” He trails off, glancing around the room. His gaze lands on the jacket lying nearby, and his eyes widen again.

“It wasn’t a dream,” you say softly.

Charles looks at you, lips parted in shock. “Then you … you’re …”

You furrow your brow in confusion. “I’m what?”

“Pregnant!” He exclaims. “We’re having a baby!”

Now it’s your turn for your eyes to go wide. “What? No! I’m not pregnant!”

Charles frowns, thoroughly bewildered. “But the jacket said … I thought it was your way of telling me we’re expecting.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Oh my goodness, no. The jacket is for a very different reason.”

He looks almost disappointed. “It is?”

You take his hands in yours. “I know you’ve been talking about getting a dog for months now, ever since you met Mimi.”

Comprehension begins to dawn on Charles’s face. “So the jacket …”

“Is for our new puppy!” You finish excitedly.

Charles’ face lights up. “You got me a dog? Really?”

You nod, grinning. “Really! I picked him up yesterday from the shelter. He’s the cutest little dachshund, white with brown spots. I’ve been keeping him at your brother’s so I could surprise you today.”

Charles whoops and tackles you in another ecstatic hug. You laugh as he covers your face in rapid, smacking kisses.

“This is the best birthday surprise ever!” He crows. “I can’t believe we’re finally getting a dog. And the jacket — it’s perfect!”

He grabs the bomber and shrugs it on over his t-shirt. It fits him flawlessly, the white lettering bold against the red.

Charles scrambles to his feet and rushes to the nearest mirror, twisting this way and that to admire himself. “I love it! Thank you, thank you!”

You stand and wrap your arms around him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I’m so glad. But you should really be thanking your new baby boy.”

Charles turns in your arms and cups your face in his hands. “Have I told you lately that you’re the best girlfriend in the world?”

You grin up at him. “Hmm, I don’t recall. Feel free to remind me.”

“You …” He punctuates each word with a kiss. “Are …” kiss “The …” kiss “Most …” kiss “Thoughtful …” kiss “Loving …” kiss “Girlfriend …” kiss “In …” kiss “The …” kiss “World.”

You pretend to swoon. “My, what a sweet talker you are.”

He chuckles and kisses you tenderly. When you break apart, his eyes are shining.

“So when do I get to meet our new baby?” He asks eagerly.

“Right now, if you want,” you say. “We can go pick him up from Lorenzo.”

Charles pumps a fist in the air. “Yes! I’m going to be the best dog dad ever, just you wait and see.” He crouches down and coos, “Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?”

You pat his head playfully. “You’re a good boy.”

Taking your hand, he practically drags you out the door, babbling excitedly about names, beds, toys, and treats for the puppy the whole way to the car. Your heart swells watching his enthusiasm. You know that dog is going to be the most loved and cared for pup in the world.

When you arrive at his brother’s apartment, Charles bounds up to the front door ahead of you, unable to contain his excitement. Lorenzo opens it laughing, the wiggling brown and white puppy in his arms.

“Someone’s here to see you!” He says, handing the squirming bundle of fluff to Charles.

“Hello, hello!” Charles cuddles the puppy to his chest, his whole face alight with pure joy. The pup responds by licking every inch of Charles’ face he can reach.

Charles laughs delightedly. “Aren’t you just the sweetest boy? Yes you are!”

He looks up at you, eyes shining. “Thank you, mon cœur. This is the best gift I could have asked for.”

You lean in and scratch the puppy behind his silky ears. “Of course. Happy birthday, my love.”

As you walk back to the car, Charles cradling the puppy like a newborn, you know in your heart that your little family is one step closer to completion.

***

The race weekend after Charles’ birthday feels strange. As you wander through the Ferrari garage during free practice, Fred rushes over looking concerned.

“Here, take a seat,” the team principal says, grabbing a folding chair and positioning it behind you. “You should not be on your feet so much in your condition.”

You frown in confusion. “What condition?”

But the French man has already hurried away. Shaking your head, you continue walking. It’s a few minutes later that you spot Pierre.

“Hey!” He says, jogging up to you. Before you can react, he places both hands on your stomach and smiles brightly. “Wow, it’s hard to believe that little baby Leclerc is in there! I can’t wait to meet my niece or nephew.”

Now you’re really bewildered. You take a small step back from Pierre’s wandering hands. “What are you talking about? I’m not pregnant!”

Pierre laughs. “Very funny. You don’t have to hide it from me.” He winks and walks away.

When Charles finds you later, you’re still puzzling over the strange encounter.

“Everyone is acting so weird,” you tell him, explaining what’s been happening all day. "It’s like they all think I’m pregnant or something."

Charles frowns. “That is odd. Where would they get that idea?”

You shake your head. “I have no idea …”

Later, after the last practice session of the day, you wander into Ferrari hospitality for a quick cup of coffee. Carlos quickly spots you and makes a beeline over, cheeks flushed with excitement.

“I just saw the photos of Charles wearing his new jacket.” He says. “A mini Leclerc on the way, how wonderful! Congratulations to you both.”

“What? No, there’s no …” you start to protest, but Carlos is already walking away.

Charles comes up beside you, having overheard. “This is getting out of hand,” he mutters. “We need to clear this up.”

“I know!” You say. “I feel bad, they all seem so excited. They must think we’re hiding a pregnancy from them.”

An idea comes to you then. Turning to Charles, you say loudly, “Honey, why don’t we go introduce the baby to everyone? I know they’re all just dying to meet him!”

Charles catches on immediately, smiling slyly. “Of course! Let’s go get our little one right now.”

You nod, linking your arm through his. As you walk away, you hear gasps and murmurs behind you.

“They already had the baby? When did this happen?”

“I can’t believe they’ve been hiding it all this time!”

You have to stifle a laugh. Charles grins and squeezes your hand.

In his driver’s room, your puppy is napping contentedly on a plush dog bed. Charles scoops him up gently so as not to wake him. Cradling the pup, you both head back out to the hospitality suite.

Everyone turns to look at you eagerly as you enter. Carlos steps forward, craning his neck to see the bundle in Charles’ arms.

“Here he is!” You announce proudly. “Our baby boy!”

Charles turns so they can see the sleeping dachshund nestled against his bomber jacket. A shocked silence falls over the room.

“Wha … that’s not a baby!” Carlos splutters. “That’s a dog!”

You and Charles just shrug with matching sly smiles. “He’s our baby.”

As the puppy yawns and stretches in Charles’ arms, licking his chin affectionately, you know with certainty that your furry new addition will be showered with just as much love and adoration as you both share for one another.

Who could ask for anything more?

[jjmaybankswifeyx]

don’t play with me princess

zach justice x fem!reader

warnings • smutty smut smut, zach : daddy, kissing, use of yn, pet names, oral sex, flirting, angst, jealous zach, swearing , 18+

summary: you went on dropouts after being friends for years and him begging you for ages to come the podcast , you finally give in and things kick off.

*zach has his own place in this*

you were messaging zach all last night about the podcast, what time to come etc he was being so sweet telling you he’s gunna be with you the whole time but knowing zach he will probably bully you for it tomorrow on the podcast “i’ll be fine” you mumbled before dozing off to sleep.

you wake up at 11:06 to zach phoning you making sure your awake as you always sleep in, unfortunately you had just woke up and had an hour to get ready and leave as you had to be there for 12:30 and it takes 20 minutes to get there “yea you just woke me up” you say rolling out of bed “good can’t have my star guest not come” he says, you hang up the phone starting to get ready doing a natural look as you didn’t have time nor effort to do a glam look, once you finished your makeup you chose your outfit then left.

you got there about 5 minutes before the pod started saying hi to everyone “omg yn” alyssa shouts across the room running towards you engulfing you in a big hug “alyssa ahh i missed you so much” you say with a massive smile “alright alyssa she’s mine calm down” zach says appearing around the corner with a smug little smirk on his face “oh shut up zach” turning around to face alyssa again and walking into the studio.

“hello welcome or welcome back to dropouts today we have an extra special guest, my girlfriend yn y/l/n” looking at u in shock “oh you wish” looking at the mic “i do i really do, so yn” your quick to answer as your nervous as what hes gunna say “yes zach” already dreading the question “how have you been” relieved with this you start to smile “yea it’s been great honestly i’ve started my own clothing line and makeup and it’s going great!” smiling knowing how far you’ve come “wow that’s great! any boys recently ?” jared says adding to the convo “oh jared you know” you say winking at him before you both start bursting into laughter, you look over at zach and he looks like he’s burning a hole into your brain, he looks mad ? you chime in “no guys i’m jk don’t clip that” you say with a nervous laugh zach still does not look impressed until he spits out “oh yn you wouldn’t even kiss jared on the cheek never mind do the devils tango with him” smirking you reply “oh and how would you know that” he stares at you for a second “okay guys if your not subscribed to the patreon you get a 7 day free trial, you get extra bits from these podcasts also you get them earlier plus extra videos like the drunk episodes when we get me and some other people drunk and try spill some secrets” you just look at him unimpressed as he carries on.

by now your on the subject of sex and relationships jared talking about this girl he is going out with tonight and how he would love to have something with her as theyd been speaking for months “yea jared i think you just gotta go for it, no woman wants a man who takes their time, and they don’t want to beg for it either ” you say giving him a woman’s perspective “oh yn you were begging for it last night” zach says smirking earning an oh and oh shit from jared and alyssa you just completely gobsmacked on what this man just said to you “oh please like i would go to you for that your probably not even as good as you make out zach, actually alyssa can you relate to this a man always says he knows what he’s doing yet he can’t get it in the right hole” jared and alyssa start laughing hesring a very quiet yes from alyssa as zach says “oh trust me i know what i’m doing” you didn’t look impressed “hm ye still don’t believe it sorry zach” he’d had enough at this point he wanted to throw you over his shoulder, take you upstairs and prove it while you were screaming out his name “don’t play with me princess”, jared just gasped and alyssa just started laughing you however just turned over and said “of course i’m gunna mess with you other wise your gunna wind me up so” looking over at him letting your eyes drop for a mere second you saw him readjusting himself seeing a massive bulge in his pants looking up with him smirking at you.

alyssa and jared start having a conversation about something i’m not sure what i was zoned out thinking about what zach said and his bulge until you were pulled out by zach coming closer to you wanting to whisper something “i’m gunna fuck you so hard after this your not gunna be able to even speak and say i didn’t know what u was doing, you understand me gorgeous?” you nod while backing away just smiling jared and alyssa obviously caught on “um guys what you saying over there” knowing you were caught until zach chimes in “oh i was just asking yn about something i heard about her clothing line and it’s true but not able to say sorry. it’s a secret” you sigh knowing zach just saved your ass and his.

after 1 hour of you and zachs glances you started you flirt with jared to get a reaction out of zach, must say he contained himself pretty well until the pod finished you said your goodbyes to jared and alyssa claiming you were gunna hang out with zach for a while as you haven’t seen eachother in months they believed it obviously as it is true you did miss him but you needed him now, as soon as they walked out that door you said “so you gunna prove it to me or what?” walking over to him looking up batting your eye lashes without a word he smashes his lips into yours quietly letting out little moans and gasps as he picks you up taking you to his room he throws you on the bed hovering over you “hm you look so good today” moaning while he’s kissing your neck “you too baby, wanted to have my way with you since i first met you” you moan against his touch not knowing this as you thought you guys were just friends with the occasional flirt “take your clothes off princess wanna see you” he says throwing his shirt some where across the room, after hearing those words you have never done something quicker you were lying there naked while zack still had his jeans on he slowly started kissing down your stomach reaching down to your bare dripping pussy “this wet already baby? hm someone’s needy” saying with a grin before you could answer he dived into your pussy sucking your clit making you scream out in pleasure “hm zach more baby please” he starts to pump his fingers in and out of you sucking and licking your clit, you could hear his tiny little moans and the vibrations coming off, “could jared eat your pretty pussy like this baby?” he says hint of jealousy in his voice you shake your head unable to focus “words princess” he says picking up his pace “no! daddy you do it better than anybody” you say about to come until he stops what he’s doing and looks up at you “what did you just call me?” you now are very embarrassed yet the words come out you couldn’t stop it “d-daddy” he smiles looking at you “fuck princess i cannot do this i need to be in you” you sigh then spreading your legs for him as he unbuckles his belt letting the cold air hit your core “fuck gorgeous such a good girl for daddy” he says slipping into you, he’s massive so much bigger than you thought “fuck daddy your huge” that just gives him a boost and he starts picking up the pace, “oh baby you don’t how long i’ve wanted to do this” he says moaning in your ear “me too daddy needed your cock for so long hmm” screaming without a care who heard you “your mine princess” you moan at the words nesrly making you cum alone “all yours daddy” you say trying to fight for breathe “what princess didn’t quite hear you?” ramming into harder and deeper “i’m yours daddy all yours!!” shouting even louder before he utters “good girl” as his thrusts get sloppy “where do you want me beautiful” without even thinking you say “in me daddy i’m on the pill” he does a couple more thrusts before you both are cumming the hardest you ever have, nobody has ever made you feel this way and you loved it, he pulls out of you now all cocky “that prove it to you huh” saying all confident “wasn’t even that good” you say smirking “hm i wish i could believe that but your moans and words say different gorgeous” he says before getting something to clean you both up.

as you were laying there he says “i meant it you know” you look up at him confused “your mine now, not letting you go” you just kiss him as you fall asleep tangled up together.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

hope you guys like this, i am currently on the ganja writing this so i apologise if there’s any mistakes or anything❤️❤️

[babyleostuff]

Can i ask a request of wonwoo coming home from the huxley event and y/n is speechless and you can decide what comes next hahaha thanksss

18+ minors dni

flopping down on your and Wonwoo’s shared bed, you opened twitter like you’d usually do.  what you didn’t expect though, was to have your whole for you page flooded with pictures of your boyfriend, looking as gorgeous and hot as ever. 

something as simple as a white button up shirt tucked into a pair of dark jeans shouldn’t make you go that crazy over your man, and still, you couldn’t stop giggling and kicking your feet like a goddamn five year old. you scrolled through every thread that had photos and videos from the huxley event, saving probably half of them. 

biting your lip, you paused at a picture that was taken from behind, displaying his perfect proportions, the long legs, slim waist, and one of your favourite features of his - the 58 cm shoulders. 

your mind wandered to all of those endless nights, where you’d grip them harshly, as he was pounding into you, not giving a single fuck about the marks you were leaving. honestly speaking, it always made him want to fuck you again in the morning, after seeing the nail scratches on his body. 

“that’s right baby, mark me up.” “let everyone know who i belong to.” “fuck, is my cock so good you have to hang onto me like that?”

your thoughts were quickly abandoned, as you heard the front door open and close quietly, meaning that Wonwoo had come home from work. it also meant that you’d finally get the chance to see him in that gorgeous outfit.  

“hey, baby,” he said, entering your bedroom, and crouching to peck your forehead sweetly, totally unaware of your dirty thoughts that had just left your mind. as usual, you slid your hand around his neck, bringing him to your eye level. “there was a massive traffic jam on the way back.”

you hummed, noticing how the pictures didn’t do him justice. he looked a thousand times better in person. “it’s okay,” you said, ghosting your lips over his. “i was very much occupied by a certain someone,” you said, placing a kiss on his lips. 

“and who could have that been?” he smirked, knowing damn well you were talking about him. 

instead of saying anything you reached for his shirt, pulling him closer by his collar, making him kneel between your legs. you slowly started to unbutton the upper part of his shirt, exposing his toned chest. 

“i think you owe me a little apology,” you murmured, spreading your legs in front of his face. “for what exactly? i didn’t do anything wrong,” Wonwoo said innocently, grabbing one of your thighs and placing it over his shoulder.

you didn't even realise when, but your panties were thrown somewhere in the room and Wonwoo was eagerly licking your clit, as his fingers were teasingly circling your entrance. 

“so fucking wet, and i haven’t even started,” he rasped, lifting his head covered in your juices - glasses foggy and hair messy from you pulling at them. “you really got that needy just from looking at some pictures?” he asked, breathing over your clit, making you jerk your hips at his face. 

“my baby is so needy, she wants to hump my face, is that right?” he collected all of your wetness from his chin with his thumb, and slid his finger over your parted lips. 

“suck.”

i'm not sure if you wanted it to be sfw or nsfw, but i'm way too crazy about this wonwoo to write anything else than a bit of smut (if you want it to be sfw you can always let me know!)

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hi! If you're still taking requests I'd love request a drabble about the moment when Konig and Reader first noticed each other and what they thought/felt during that moment based on your "Just Friends" fic.

Btw I love your work and oh my god, it's perfection, absolutely amazing. Super excited to read chapter 3&4 (no rush take your time!!)

Thabj you!!!

Even Demons are Lonely

Wordcount: 3.8 k

Summary: König sees reader for the first time. Soon, the promise to never touch someone as lovely as her turns into a vow to never leave her side.

Tags/warnings: F!Reader, König POV, Just Friends universe. Angst, twisted & fluffy feelings, pining, obsessive behavior, stalking, panty stealing, mentions of past trauma, abuse and patricide, yandere!König falling in love (=being delusional). Mild sexual and violent themes. 

A/N: I did take my time with this one... 🩷 And it's only König POV, but I hope you enjoy! 💋

"Abashed the Devil stood, and felt how awful goodness is, and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely – saw, and pined His loss..."

– John Milton, Paradise Lost

Purgatory.

That's the word that stuck to him when he was learning English at school, simply because it was an accurate definition of how he felt.

Adults used to say there is heaven and hell, and then this world, the world of humans, somewhere in between. They said he would go to heaven after he died and that bad people would go to hell.

They were all liars because hell already existed here on Earth. He had lived there ever since he was born.

The first memories of the cutting are shallow and pale, like they happened to some other boy. With every hit and cut and every cry, the sounds turned muddy until he was mute too, until all he could hear was mother's crying and Papa's roaring. The old man always got more mad when people cried and cowered. 

That's when he knew he would someday do something about bad people, that crying and cowering and begging wasn't going to help. It was the birth hour of hope and heaven. He dreamed of killing his father, killing his "friends", killing everyone who looked at him like he was a freak. 

He soon learned that this was not what people associated with heaven at all. He learned that there was a word for people like him, for phantoms who were morbidly interested in death and decay.

Ghoul.

A grave robber and a corpse feaster he was not, but neither was he going to pretend that some people didn't deserve to be gutted. If being normal meant he should just play along and pretend that there was justice in this world, then he was happy to be morbid. A little ghoul boy who grew up in hell, who dreamed of heaven, who slipped behind the thin veil between the worlds when he was four, who learned how to make the knives dance while everyone around him suffered.

He learned to cry and beg before he learned to speak, but when the words finally started to make sense to him, he had no use for them. No one wanted to talk to him, so he settled to observe. Life was a film reel running by, and words were useless when all he wanted to do was roar. There was a growing, gaping maw inside him, shrieking and spitting blood while he was without a voice.

It took a while to make Papa cry and beg. But he begged, eventually. In his last words, he tried to hide behind a woman’s skirt. 

"Don't do this to your mother," was a plea that didn't ignite mercy: it drove him off the ledge. Looking at the horrible excuse for a man squirming at his feet made him realize he should've released his mother from this demon years ago. He was too weak, and he vowed to himself, to the whole world, that he would never be weak again.

………………

Sometimes, a glimpse of true heaven can be seen on a clear summer's day when the sun shines, when bees are buzzing and a beautiful voice sings a love song on the radio. Beautiful, peaceful things only add to his suffering. They are simply evidence gathered – examples of everything he will never have. 

The air clots inside his mask with a brew of old sweat and acrid gunpowder. It's usually enriched by a hot desert wind or the stench of dust and emissions, a city's rotten core. It would feel odd to be met with a fresh breeze or the smell of rust and smoke than have them dampened by the baggy mask. He's certain that it would only be painful to feel the full brunt of the world on his naked face again. His enemies can't see him when he kills them, so they can't haunt him either.

He is the only ghoul here. He is the one who haunts.

He's learned to let love and peace go. He came here to reap; that's his job. Ghouls cannot love or be loved. They are supposed to get rid of the plague, do what normal people can't do, what good people deem hideous and wrong.

People have always been alien to him: they both know something he cannot seem to decode and are unaware of the constant presence of the Maw. He has to feed it in order to not be swallowed by it himself. It helps with the constant yelling for a while. 

His father was the first demon to be punished, but he has learned that all demons are liars when they beg. They don't know what real hell is like. That's why he didn't give mercy to his father, and that's why he doesn't give mercy to them, either. It's not hell, it's not heaven, so he must be in a limbo state in between. 

That's why he calls this place purgatory. 

………………

He sees a woman under the sun one day.

The sheer sight of her sitting there on her little blanket spread over the grass, dressed in a pure white dress is like a torturing dream from above. It stops him in his tracks like there is suddenly an invisible wall in front of him, forcing him to halt.

His heart is pounding, but that's not new. His heart is always tight and racing, and that's why it's better to have a heavy gun in his hands than hold onto nothing at all; it's better to do something than do nothing at all. The only thing that calms the endless roil inside him is work; when there's no work, it helps to go outdoors, somewhere between the shadows between thick trees.

Trees are better than people...

But they're not better than a woman like her.

He knows his mind plays tricks sometimes with females. That is why at first he thinks that the creature before him is not from this world either. How could someone like her even end up here? There are few ladies in the base, and none of them have picnics; none of them look like angels.

She looks up at the sky, at the single cloud drifting across the cerulean blue that hurts his eyes. Sun shines on her exposed throat, her stare is dreamy as she basks in the warmth and raises an apple to her lips. 

He stops breathing as she takes a bite, fearing it might stain the beautiful white dress from how juicy it is. The runaway apple juice drips down her chin, but she catches it with her finger, then sweeps the sweet taste of it back into her mouth. 

Her lips hug the finger gently as she savors the treat, and his breath returns to him, heavy and with a pang, like someone just punched him between the lungs.

She can't be human... 

He wonders if she's even real. 

He's hungry, but the need to devour this woman turns into a need to worship her before he can even decipher what is happening to him. He would grovel at her feet if that's what it took to get her to feed him some of that fruit. His mind goes numb from the need to march there and hug her. Just hold her, so close that he forgets what it is to breathe.

He knows she would only scream, and it's good he's been walking in the shade. It's good that she can't see him unless she turns her head. Because she must be an angel, and angels have no business with ghouls. 

He should go and leave her be... Mortals he can want, humans he can torture, but a celestial being he could never touch. The wind carries a whiff of apple juice to his nose; it overrides the stench of sweat and gun oil and smoke. 

And then the angel turns her head. 

It's Judgment Day, but she doesn't condemn him. She blinks a few times, lashes fluttering like he's another sun, the dreaded black sun, and she can't bear to look directly at him. But there's no disgust, no uneasiness, there's no fear. There's only shyness and the smallest smile. 

The pain inside his gut turns into a brutal stab, pure suffering. He hasn't hoped for anything for a long, long time. Now hope bleeds into his stomach with golden tingles, like those rays of sun that caress her skin.

He thought good things would feel… well, good, but to his horror, they feel painful too. She's painfully sweet. Even the demon inside him falls silent, the only demon he cannot destroy. It's finally quiet, as it should be. Everything in him bows to this greater power of Her. 

But she can't be real... His mind is sick and has finally conjured up the most beautiful thing he can never, ever have. He's been called a freak, he's been called a dumb ugly giant, he's been called so many things, but he's not stupid enough to think that the creature hugged by the golden aura of light is meant for him. 

So he squares his shoulders and pushes through the invisible wall, back behind the veil, back to where he belongs, and leaves the heavenly apparition in the sun.

………………

The next time he sees her is after a mission and inside the base. 

He brings mud and blood inside after a few rainy days spent in the mountains. He's so soaked that not even the 3-hour flight managed to dry all the dirt. She's waiting for him, or that's how it feels like when she gives him a small, relieved smile and starts to clean the mess he and every other operator leave behind.

His angel is not only a celestial visage but a cleaner.

She keeps the building that houses people who destroy life, clean. She scrubs the filth killers like him bring inside the cold, dead compound built on what used to be a forest full of birds, life, and wind through the trees. 

No one thanks this girl as she humbly dusts a table or mops the floor. No one understands that she's a saint for coming to the purgatory and making it a more decent place for the demons and ghouls to live. And she's relieved every time he comes back unharmed. She's happy to see he's alive. There's someone waiting for him. And not just someone, not just anyone, but an angel.

It's unbelievable how no one has claimed her yet. She has no one to keep her safe, and it makes his hands twitch. If he was her protector, she would never have to work again.

She's not like the rest of them: she doesn't turn her gaze away when he flicks a knife out. She likes to watch him make them dance. It's a ritual that makes him invincible on the battlefield. He used to do it every morning before school to stay safe – there were no angels back then to keep him alive.

He almost stops the first time he sees her watching how he goes through the rite. 

No, look away, little angel... You're not supposed to see this; this is a death dance, it's filthy, demonic magic.

But she's not afraid of his blades or the way he weaves his spell of protection. The girl follows his moves entranced. Her eyes shine, and he nearly drops the blade – he hasn't dropped a knife since he was ten – because there's hunger in her stare. Not as fathomless as his, but deep enough for him to recognize it. 

His angel is lonely and trapped too. 

He completes the dance, returns the knife to his pocket, and looks back, straight back.

She doesn't look away. She doesn't wince or lean back, no: she leans forward, and he can see it, the way her pulse flutters on her neck, the way her mouth opens even more, how a tiny pink tongue sweeps across her lips as she looks back into the jaws of damnation. It takes him a while to realize his angel must be wet, just from seeing how good he is with a knife. The notion doesn't only make his cock jolt; it throws him headfirst into the abyss. 

You'll never get rid of me now, the demon growls before he can choke him silent.

Her wet eyes, her wet, promising lips belong in a realm of madness. She's not filthy; his angel could never be filthy. But she's seducing him, which means she might seduce other men too. 

Has someone claimed her already…? 

What if she has a lover? Do they make her legs shake, do they make her mew?

Who does he have to kill?

………………

He breaks into her room that night. 

He only meant to stand watch and see if someone creeps to her in the cover of darkness. He thinks about different ways to kill her lover as he waits near her door. Should he just strangle them when they enter her room? Make her an offering, let her know she could have a far more powerful male if she wants?

No, he must use a knife... She will get wet if he uses a knife.

But no one appears: he is the only shadow in the dark hall, and after midnight, he decides to take a look at his innocent, sleeping angel. Just one look.

Her domain is full of softness, and he has to take a few deep breaths before he continues. Her world is so different from his that he nearly turns back and closes the door to paradise. But then her breathing calls to him, causing him to take a few steps. She sleeps with her window open, likes to listen to the sound of night birds before she falls asleep – just like he does…

The demon is awake in an instant and grabs him by the throat. 

No. 

Don’t look. If you look, she will steal your soul.

He freezes before he reaches her bed. His gaze sweeps her room instead, and the demon pants at the sight. Her dresses are laid out on a clothing rack: they salute him like a row of colorful flowers. Flowing and singing like a river, they hit him with a breeze made of life and all things good. 

She has a little armchair filled with cushions, and there's more softness and beauty everywhere he looks; he can see it even in the darkness of the night. Her delicate perfume that follows him as he follows her around the base lingers in the air and mixes with the distant birdsong and moonlight that shift the curtains in her room.

There's art on her walls, lively houseplants on the window sill, she has collected a cavalcade of cute little things on top of her drawer: nail polish and sea shells and beeswax candles and a piece of driftwood, a bottle of that perfume she uses, decorative lights above it all, placed around a small mirror. 

He wants all of that. 

He wants light and living things and greenery – he never had plants at home – he wants softness and cute little items, he wants to listen if the seashell still roars with the crashing waves were he to bring it to his ear. His mama always told him seashells remember the ocean because it used to be their home…

He wants her to light a honeyed candle and give him a bite of that apple, catch the juice as it runs down his scarred chin, or better yet, kiss it away before it falls. He wants to taste what's between her thighs. She must taste like honey and heaven.

One of the drawers is open, and from it, a torrent of cute little underthings is spilling out; they almost cascade on the floor. In different colors, too, and his hand reaches out and takes one before he can even think. He steals it like it's candy, then turns around with a stiff back and shoulders heavy from the sin he just committed.

He's about to go to the door, but her soft breathing calls him back. He tries to calm the demon - the girl can't steal anything: there's nothing left to steal. He has no soul, so he doesn't have to fear her either. 

Taking a few steps, he takes the peek he shouldn't take because it will only prolong his sentence in purgatory. Little does the demon know that he would suffer eternally for one little glimpse… 

She's not cocooned inside her blanket as he thought she would be. He thought he would find her coiled into a fetal position, curled into safety, but instead, she's sleeping on her back, arms spread next to her face, looking like she just fell from heaven and is feeling a little dizzy from the fall. She's calm and innocent as the moonlight brushes her cheek, her face free from all worry.

Why is she so cute, why is she so sweet? 

She has no right. She should be up in heaven.

He almost crawls on top of her right then and there, because blinding want is nothing compared to this. He wants to breathe her, breathe with her, hold her gently, and have her smile at him when she wakes up. He doesn't want to ruin her… He just wants a taste, see if an angel would like to have a demon worship her. If his worship would mean anything, if it had any power to persuade her to like him... 

He would never kneel before anyone, but he would kneel before her. In spirit, he is on his knees, and the only thing that makes him suffer is the fear that she might not want him, a ruined temple haunted by old, hateful spirits.

The madness was right. Apparently, there was a soul to steal, a tiny broken mosaic piece left, for the angel has it now. She owns what's left of him, the haunted temple is hers if she would ever want to come visit. He would restrain all those monsters so that she can walk freely and explore all the things buried under the rubble.

Her underwear burns his palm like a flower on fire. He only then realizes that there are no actual flowers in her room. He wonders if she would give him a kiss if he were to bring her one. Or two. Or an entire bouquet…

The demon inside cuts him with a searing blade – stupid idiot – she doesn't want to kiss your mauled face or love your ghouls. There's no treasure hidden inside that filthy rubble, there's only shit and blood and festering vomit. Better to just take her right now, see how tight she is, how wide her eyes go when a proper man comes to assert his will and authority. The demon tells him to at least ruin that cute thing in his hand and throw it on the table. Imagine her shocked little face when she wakes up…

Tears brim, and the maw of hell laughs with a roar of raging fire. He forces both down with a swallow and a wrench that shuts his heart.

There's no way she would ever let a man like him inside her. He's a sickness; no, he's an entire plague. He could try to make love to her, and she would only cry and bleed to death.

The smooth place between her brows gains a wrinkle as if she can hear his thoughts but doesn't agree with them. A little whimper escapes her nose, her head nods on the pillow; it looks like an attempt to hide while you're tied and cannot move. 

Pretty angel is having a nightmare, and it's no wonder. Of course she can sense she's being visited by a monster. 

He turns to leave, and notices another colorful thing on the floor: her underwear, and not clean. She's slipped out of it before bed: his angel is naked under that blanket. His angel sleeps naked…

He wonders if she has touched herself before sleep. Not with feverish, stern hands, like he does, but softly, under that blanket, with her features melting into pleasure as she comes with sighs and a series of desperate little whimpers. 

His blood turns to hellfire as he drops the underwear he's holding. It falls right next to the intoxicating thing he picks up instead. Taking a deep inhale, he can finally smell her. Not just her perfume, but her. She smells of an angel and a woman, raw, perfect woman, and he knows he's lost. This is worse than any dream or demon; this is worse than anything ever before. There's no going back now. 

Her scent calls to him, those hands frame her face in a gesture of surrender. She smiled at him on that day under the sun, and she smiled at him today.

What if he's spent enough time in hell? What if it's possible to have a taste of heaven?

He can't help but wonder if his angel wants this too... 

“Engel,” he whispers into the night.

It takes only a second before she whimpers again. It's an answer, it's a yes, and his heart is full of tiny needles; they pinch him with terrible love and hope. The wrinkle has smoothed out, and his angel is smiling very, very softly. 

She's calling for him. How could he refuse?

His angel is full of light as he makes his decision. He whispers his apology, only in his mind and only in German, trusting that angels must know every language in the world. He asks for her forgiveness for all the things he's about to do to her. Then he promises he will come for her, that she doesn't need to worry: she has a guardian now and always will. She will be forever safe with him by her side. He will drive even her nightmares away.

Then he returns to his room so different from hers, returns to the realm of death and worships the thing he just stole, spraying it with hot, white love - the only thing inside him that can be called pure, the color of angels. It's only a matter of time before he gets to worship her in the flesh, unite with her, the soul who forgave his sins and slipped him the key to heaven.

[theushijimaoverlord]

"this whole thing is a mess"

♡ tooru oikawa x reader - 1.3k ♡ warnings - none other than oikawa himself (and some ugly baby shenanigans) ♡ notes - hi! i'm purple and this is my first post, enjoy! (prompt credit from @creativepromptsforwriting)

It was a mess.

A big, tremendous, nearly-unfixable mess.

The day started off normal enough, you in your comfy gray sweat, loose shirt (that may or may not belong to Oikawa), a book you’ve been overdue to read in your hands. As your eyes scanned the pages, your attention was drawn away as you began to the thump thump thump of someone running up the stairs. And unless someone had broken into your house, you already knew who was currently making their way towards your bedroom.

As if on cue, a familiar ruffle of brunette hair came into view as said person came barreling through your door. For an athlete, it always bemuses you how Oikawa always got so winded running up your stairs.

You patiently wait for him to catch his breath. Finally, after he had decided that enough air had entered his lungs, he looked up and if you knew any better from the look in his eyes, you could already tell he was about to tell the most ridiculous thing ever. Because your boyfriend wouldn’t be doing the world justice if he were one for the dramatics.

“You would not believe what I just found out.”

Staring at him for a few seconds, you roll your eyes, close your books and turn your whole body to face him. This was gonna take a while. “Okay I’ll bite. Tell me what you found out.”

If you squint hard enough, you could almost see the joy gleaming in his eye from the fact that he caused you to turn your whole attention to him. But it quickly disappeared as he crossed the room and plopped down face first onto your bed, arms wide, and began whining.

You should convince him to take up theater.

“Come on Tooru, tell me what you came all the way up here for or I’m going back to my book,” Turning his face, Oikawa looked at you and gave his signature pout. If you called him out for it, he would vigilantly deny it.

“Did you remember when you went over to my mom's house a week ago?” 

“When we visited for new years? Yeah I remember, remind me later to ask her for her mochi recipe.”

“Yeah, yeah. So you remember when the two of you decided to torture me by looking at my baby photos?” Honestly, he was the one torturing you with the way he was loudly complaining with each flip of the photo album.

If it wasn’t already obvious by the media attention, countless photo-shoot bookings, and (to his dismay) amount of fanfic being written about him, Oikawa Tooru was a very handsome man. Some might even argue (you) that the word pretty comes to mind when talking about the Argentina National Volleyball Team’s setter.

But a little secret that he had and would rather take to the grave is that he was a very, very ugly baby. At least by his standards. You have a running theory that he only thinks that way because Iwaizumi liked to taunt him about it, especially when they were younger.

“Yes Tooru, although I’ve told you pointless times that you were a very normal looking baby, I do recall looking at photos with your mom.” Reaching a hand out from under the warm blanket, you grab his hand that is closest to you and intertwine your fingers. You swear his pout lessens a little before he continued telling you about his current dilemma.

“Well I was scrolling online and you will not believe what I saw” Sitting up without disconnecting your hands, he sits on the bed, brown eyes now directly across from you. 

“Well she. Posted. The. Photos.”

A beat of silence passed as he just stared at you, straight faced and serious. 

And then you break eye contact by letting out a short laugh, which apparently broke a dam inside you because your free hand came up to cover your mouth as you tried to suppress the fit of giggles you couldn’t hold back anymore. 

Oikawa just continues to stare at you, but now he had a dumbfounded expression on his face, as if he hadn’t just told you the worst possible thing to ever happen to him. Realizing you weren’t gonna stop, Oikawa lets out a long drawn whine, closing the gap in between the two of you and throwing his arms around your body, pressing his face into your neck.

The position caused you to uncover your mouth and now the only sound filling the room was your unfiltered laughs. As much as Oikawa loved listening to the noise, he hugged you tighter hoping you would eventually stop being entertained by his misfortune.

“Why do you hate me, babe. What have I done to deserve this mistreatment?”

As your laughter finally dies down, you reach your arms around and hug him back, rubbing one palm up and down his back as the other hand carded his brown moppy hair through your fingers. Your bedroom was now engulfed by a (rare) moment of peaceful silence as you felt him breathing into your neck.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’d have a knack for always being the most dramatic person in a room” A pause before his response.

“...no” An obvious lie, but you let it slide.

“Alright, what are people saying about your photos though? Can’t be that bad”

Sitting up straight again, his arms were still wrapped around your body so he had to crane his neck to look down at you and you find yourself doing a similar motion to look up at him. If anyone else saw the two of you like this, they might find the positioning comedic.

“It’s terrible. Absolutely horrible. This whole thing is a mess. The entire world is making fun of me as we speak.” 

Rolling your eyes, you reach for your phone on the nightstand and begin searching for his mother’s post which wasn’t hard considering you closely followed her actively due to her weekly recipe post. And just as you presumed, Oikawa’s mom’s most recent post was a picture of some photos from the album the two of you looked at a few days ago.

You could tell they were pictures of Oikawa during his infant years, but only because you were able to see it in person but…. When you closely examined the post, you were astonished that anyone could even tell what the photo was off. Even though mama Oikawa had skills in the kitchen and taking pictures of the foods she makes, the woman wasn’t as skilled when photographing other things.

“Babe, literally no one can tell what this is a picture of. If I didn’t know any better, it just looks like she took a picture of a photograph of a loaf of bread and posted it.” A gasp falls from his lips, causing you to look back up at him.

“Are you saying I look like a loaf of bread? How dare you!” You are practically rendered speechless.

“No! I’m saying that unless people have seen the real thing, there is no way anyone would guess that it’s a photo of you as a baby. And I’m looking at the comment section right now, no one is saying anything about you, most people are asking what it even is.”

“What? I swear people were saying stuff” Snatching your phone, he also begins to scroll before he comes across a comment that read:

that’s the stupidest looking baby I’ve ever seen

Turning the phone to show you, he pointed at the words on the screen, giving you a wide eyed I-told-you-so look. 

“See??” Looking at him, you gave Oikawa a blank stare.

“Tooru, Hajime is that one who commented that” Flipping the screen back around, his eyes quickly scan for the person who typed out the atrocious words and staring right back at him is Iwa-chan’s username, and profile pic of the gym he worked at.

“Oh”

Pondering his existence, Oikawa almost misses the snort you let out if it wasn’t for the explosion of laughter you let out.

Again

♡ hello! thank you for finishing my first work, i hope you enjoyed it. i would love any type of constructive criticism, either in regard of my writing, theme, or anything else

♡ i took a lot of my inspiration from @adoringhaikyuu, especially when creating my theme so i wanted to give them credit, and i completely recommend their work so go check them out

♡ thank you (again) and warmest regards, ms. purple

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐌𝐞 𝐈𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮 - Javier Peña

"you've got me in a...CHOKE. HOOOOLD. even if it huuurts meee, even if I can't sleep. show me the waaaaaaaaayyyyy" - Chokehold, Sleep Token. Mood for my Pedro Pascal era

Summary: It seems the only way to get Javier to talk about his feelings is by having the person he cares about having a near death experience. Not the most healthy way to confess your feelings for someone, but hey, it works.

Warnings: unrequited but not actually unrequited love, inaccurate descriptions of how the DEA operates, Javier needs a therapist, bad wingman Steve, character study ish? that's mostly in Javi's POV, gun wounds and violence, hurt/comfort, whump, kinda forced proximity, eventual fluff, sexual refences but no smut this time (shocker, right?)

word count | 7.7k🤙🏻

Javier’s team had found out where one of Escobar’s men was. This was huge. If he and his team could catch him, get him to flip on his boss; he could snag the man that week.

The whole building was hustling and running around, preparing to go after this guy as soon as possible, just as soon as they got word everybody was in position. Javier’s nerves threatened to overflow, just the thought of being one step closer to catching Pablo Escobar and taking down his cartel after evading justice again and again, his body was set ablaze and his fingers twitched with excitement.

There was just one problem.

As Javier was putting on his bulletproof vest, from across the office, you caught his eye. That wasn’t abnormal in the slightest, you had always unknowingly begged for the attention of Javier’s gaze ever since he met you years ago; but this time, seeing you put an unwanted pit in his stomach. To everyone else, you looked normal, getting ready for this upcoming battle like the rest of the people on this mission. But all Javier saw was you preparing to meet your demise.

Javier wasn’t normally so nervous about things like this. In this line of work, people get hurt, some even die, that’s just what happens unfortunately. But the thought of it possibly happening to you didn’t sit right with him at all. If it was his call to make, he’d make you stay here away from all the action. You wouldn’t be in a ten mile radius of a single cartel member. But of course, that wasn’t his call to make, all he had was his convincing charm and his history with you to get you to even consider sitting out. Before thinking about it any longer, Javier started taking the steps it took to make it to your desk, the one that was always just a couple feet away from his but somehow always felt too far.

From the reluctant expression on your face as you looked up at him, Javier could already tell this conversation isn’t going to go the way he wants it to, as most conversations with you; but it was too late to back out now. “Almost ready, Peña?” Peña, always fuckin’ Peña. You made a point never to call him anything other than his last name. Though, he couldn’t blame you, not after everything he’s done to you. But it still made a tiny dagger go through his heart every time you refused to call him Javi. 

You clearing your throat awkwardly made Javier suddenly aware of how creepy he was being, just staring at you, lost in his own thoughts. He cleared his own throat to avoid any possible voice cracks or stutters before finally responding to your very simple question. “I am.”

You raised an eyebrow, a look of amusement gracing your features which Javier always found adorable and would’ve still thought that if it wasn’t for how goddamn humiliating it was to have that expression directed at his being an idiot. “That’s it? You walked over here to tell me you’re ready?” A ghost of a smirk played at your lips, your very kissable lips.

Fuck, Javi, be professional. “No.” He stuttered briefly. “No.”

“Just out with it, man, we don’t have all day.”

Javier sighed in annoyance, placing his hands on his hips and looking down at you with a frown. “Look…, we all know how dangerous this guy is-”

You scoffed, already shaking your head. “No, no, no-”

“So, I was thinking you’d be of more use here. Hold down the fort while we try to bring this guy in.” He tried to keep his heartbeat under control as you stood up from your sitting position on the top of your desk, standing at your full height, obviously trying to come off as a bit intimidating; but you weren’t, not in that way, at least. Javier was more afraid of what was about to come out of your mouth.

“Will you be staying here?” You asked, looking him straight in the eyes; he could practically see all the obscenities floating around in your head that desperately wanted to come out, but couldn’t as to be somewhat professional.

Javier sighed quietly. “No, obviously not.”

“Why not?” You shrugged nonchalantly. “If this guy is so dangerous, you should stay here too. With me. Right?”

Ignoring the butterflies swirling around in his stomach as with me kept repeating over and over in his head, he grit his teeth to mask his expression into subtle anger. “It’s different.”

You crossed your arms and leaned against your desk. “Okay, Peña, give me one good reason why I shouldn’t go on this mission.”

Peña, his thoughts screamed at him. You used to call him Javi. Because I can’t bear the thought of losing you… “Because you’d be a liability. You’d only get in the way, and we can’t afford that right now.”

“Remind me, who was one of the first women to ever get assigned this case?” You asked, trying not to sound smug as everyone in this office knew the answer to that question.

“You were…” He replied with a scowl, his words sounded pained like they were being ripped out of him.

“Exactly. So, there’s no way in hell you’re gonna keep me from trying to catch this motherfucker. Okay? I can take care of myself.” You shoved your pointer finger directly on his chest, pushing him back a tiny bit.

Javier tried to ignore Steve’s shit eating grin as he walked back over to his desk dejectedly. That fuckin’ asshole. “Shoot. I’m surprised you ain’t dead as a doornail, with the way she’s lookin’ at ya.” Steve started as soon as Javier sat back down in his creaky old chair, massaging his temples from the oncoming headache that was surely going to feel like he was being bludgeoned with a hammer. “What did you do this time, Peña?”

Javier scowled and rolled his eyes, pouring himself a drink. “I just told her, I think she’d be better off staying away from the front lines.”

Steve snorted obnoxiously. “And what? You think she’d stay here? God, Peña, you really ain’t yourself when you’re smitten.”

Javier resisted the urge to throw his glass of whiskey right at Steve’s hillbilly face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Dude, you wanna get in her pants do bad it makes you look stupid. And makes you act even stupider, no offense.”

“Offense taken. Asshole.” He growled. “And I’m not smitten. It’s just…this mission is dangerous.”

“She’s a big girl, Javi. She can take care of herself. I’m sure she told ya as much after chewing you out.” More like tearing me apart into itty bitty pieces until I was nothing but ground fuckin’ dust. “You know what you need, Javi?” Oh, this should be good. “A therapist. I’ve recently been seeing one and man, let me tell ya, there’s stuff I’ve learned about myself that I didn’t even know.” Javier laughed. Like, really laughed. “I’m serious, man. Might help you figure out those commitment issues.”

“I already have a therapist.”

Now it was Steve’s turn to laugh. “Oh, yeah? Who?” Steve’s amused grin quickly turned into an annoyed grimace as Javier held up his bottle of whiskey that read: Jack Daniels.

Nah, Javier didn’t need a goddamn therapist. He was just fine…

He was, in fact, not fine.

Javier couldn’t stop the nervous twitch in his hands as everyone filed out of the office as soon as one of their undercover officers finally gave the signal that the cartel member was in place, rushing to the trucks to get to the place in town as soon as possible. He gave one last glance over to you as you got into a different truck that was going to be part of the surrounding force to make sure the member couldn’t escape. Honestly, Javier would’ve felt better if you were on his team instead, but things just didn’t work out that way. You’d be fine…you were going to be fine.

The drive over felt like forever when in reality it was probably around a few minutes. Javier knew he never should’ve talked to you before this mission, conversations with you always put him on edge, for various reasons. But he also knew he’d curse himself later if he didn’t try to talk you out of it once. Now, he couldn’t stop thinking about all the possible outcomes of this attempted arrest. What would happen if they fail? What would happen if this cartel member had a machine gun on him? What would happen if, god forbid, you get shot and killed? Would Javi be able to live with himself?

God, I’m so fucking stupid.

Javier couldn’t escape the onslaught of memories that flashed through his mind, each one causing a heat to rise to his face and guilt chew at him from the inside out. 

It was only several months ago that you confessed your attraction to him. The office was celebrating a recent successful mission and people were drinking. You had gotten drunk, Javier being a little buzzed. You both did teasing dances around each other ever since you met, but Javier never thought you’d want to take things further. But with a few shots loosening your tongue, you told Javi that you really liked him. You loved dancing, but your legs were threatening to give out in exhaustion if Javi kept spinning you around in his little tango. You were gorgeous, of course, but Javier didn’t really know what to say and you noticed that. For a drunk person, you were very astute.

It’s not that Javier wasn’t attracted to you, he was, very much so. He enjoyed your company, he loved the back and forth that seemed to come so naturally to the two of you, he could actually imagine dating you and maybe even more. But Javier didn’t date, not anymore. He fucked. He had one night stands. He didn’t have time for dating. He didn’t have commitment issues, he was just…okay, he was afraid. Javier wasn’t afraid of much. He was a DEA agent, he got shot at on a regular basis, putting his life on the line every day to keep drugs off the streets. And yet, somehow, you managed to be the one thing he’s scared of the most and he can’t even tell you why.

Your face when he turned you down would be forever etched into his mind. It wasn’t even noticeable, it was a split second of sadness crossing your features that he almost missed it. But he didn’t. Every smile you ever gave him, your flustered expression whenever he flirted with you a bit too hard, all burned away by that one subtle despondent look. It sobered you up pretty quickly. You said you didn’t take it to heart, that you understood and apologizing if you made things awkward. He was your carpool that night, so the ride home was…tense, to put it lightly. You lived in the same apartment building, hence the carpool, but you lived a floor up. Javier thought about walking you to your apartment, like he usually would do just to spend that extra time with you when he didn’t have to, but he just couldn’t. Little by little, that mask of nonchalant withered away as you got more tired, unable or just unwilling to keep up the façade. Javi couldn’t look at you anymore, not if he wanted his heart to stay intact. His friendship with you would never be the same after that night. 

He fucked up. He really fucked up. But he thought it was the best response at the time. He couldn’t get into any type of relationship, much less with a coworker. How unprofessional is that? How stupid would he be, in this line of work, to potentially put a target on your back by being someone he cares about? But of course, the way you slowly distanced yourself from him after his rejection made the wall he built around his heart melt away like acid and he couldn’t stop himself from caring about you even if he tried. And try, he did. He kept telling himself it was for the best. Even when you stopped carpooling with him to work, he tried not to care. Every time he felt jealous when he noticed someone else flirting with you, he told himself coworkers don’t feel the urge to put thirteen bullets into another person’s skull just by smiling at you. Because that’s all you were and would ever be: a coworker.

A coworker.

A coworker.

But coworkers can care about each other’s well being and want what’s best for them though, right?

…fuck.

Javier was losing it. He was fuckin’ losing it, and at a time like this? When he was about to try to catch a highly dangerous criminal? At a time where he was being counted on? No. He couldn’t think about you now. He cleared his mind. All images of your face were being shot out of his brain by a M16 assault rifle, just in time for the trucks to arrive at their destination.

The cartel member tried his best to escape, shooting plenty of rounds at every officer and agent that came into view. But it was proven all for nothing, for him and the police. The motherfucker shot himself before they could arrest him. Of course. They could never catch a fuckin’ break, could they?

Everyone was in low spirits, some now spiritless. To think, being in this field for so long that Javier might get used to seeing the dead bodies. To a point, but he couldn’t help but frown when he saw the lifeless faces of people he knew, people he worked with. Hijo de puta, Javier wishes that cartel member was still alive so he could torture information out of him himself. He’d get over it, same as everyone else. But Javier found himself a secret weapon that always made him feel better after a mission went wrong, he’d just look at you, safe, and all stress would leave him in that moment to know that you made it out alive at least. It was so secret that Javi didn’t even know he did that, not until he tried searching for you after the dust cleared and everything settled down a little bit. Steve was with you, so you’d be easy to find. All he had to do was look for a bright blonde redneck sore thumb.

Javier’s frown deepened when he found Steve, only to not find you standing with him. The look on Steve’s face as he saw Javi coming didn’t bode well either. Where were you? “Javi.” Steve acknowledged in a soft voice…way too soft.

Javier looked around before fixing his gaze on Steve’s downcast expression. He was just upset about the mission failing, right? “Where is she?” He didn’t even have to say your name, anyone who knew Javier would immediately know who he was talking about. Steve sighed heavily, unable to meet his gaze. Javier burst like a dam, scowling and enraged, pulling Steve to him by his collar roughly. “Where is she?” He yelled, forcing the man to make eye contact with him.

“Javi, Javi, calm down.” Steve pleaded, placing his hands on his shoulders to try and soothe him. “She got shot, but she’s gonna be fine. Okay? She’s on her way to the hospital right now.”

Javier’s heart jumped into his throat, making his next words come out shaky and desperate. “Drive me there. Now.”

“But Javi, we gotta-”

“Now!” There was no arguing with Javier whenever he got this way, this angry, this violent. Steve would’ve had better luck fighting a bear.

Javier almost punched Steve when he kept giving him worried glances as he drove. Javi could not keep still. His hands were twitching, his leg was bouncing, he bit the dead skin on his fingertips, and when he started biting the not so dead flesh, he moved on to his lips, which wasn’t much better. It didn’t take but a minute until he tasted copper spreading across his tongue. Anything, he was doing anything to keep himself from screaming, resorting to pulling at his hair. No, there was no way you were leaving him like this. Steve said you’d be fine, but Javi didn’t even know where you got shot, he didn’t know how deep the bullet wounds were or if you were already being treated in the ambulance. He didn’t fucking know. God, please, he just wants to hear you call him Javi again. He doesn’t even care if you say it how you say his last name, full of annoyance and resentment, it doesn't matter anymore. Nothing matters until he sees you alive in a hospital bed.

Upon arriving at the hospital, Steve all but had to hold Javier back as he tried to check in, the impatient attitude and short fuse threatening to get them kicked out. Besides, it’s not like they could visit you now, you were still in surgery and it would take another hour or so before you’d get out. Javier could tell Steve just wanted to yell at him, say some stupid phrase like “hold your darn tootin’ horses” or some bullshit like that. Javier didn’t want to wait, he wanted to see you. He didn’t want to sit in some uncomfortable plastic chair for an hour not knowing if you were okay or not. So he stood, and he paced. He paced and paced until his legs started to wobble. He would stay here, he would stay all night if he had to. There was no way he was going home without seeing you. But in actuality, he wouldn’t have to wait that long.

It was only an hour and some change until the doctor finally came out into the waiting room, Javier and Steve shooting up from their chairs instantly. “She’s okay. The bullet didn’t go too deep into the abdomen and we managed to remove it without doing any more damage. We’ll keep her here for about a week and then we can send her home if there aren’t any more complications. She’s still under anesthesia but it’s wearing off now, so she should be awake soon. We’ll let you know when she’s ready to see you.”

“We can’t see her now?” Javier almost growled, causing Steve to place his hand on his shoulder before turning to the, quite frankly, startled doctor.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Such bullshit.” Javi grumbled under his breath, sitting down in the same seat, not even standing up long enough before his ass stopped tingling from being numb. His back hurt like a bitch, and his joints felt all stiff. God, he hated hospitals. 

“Don’t worry, Javs, you’ll be able to see your girlfriend soon.”

“Shut the fuck up, Murphy. She’s not my fuckin’ girlfriend.”

Steve wasn’t phased by his hostility, only shrugging with a smirk. “But you want her to be.”

Javier groaned, running his hands over his face as his headache came back in full force. “Now, Murphy? You wanna have this conversation now?”

“If not now, when?”

“Never.”

“Exactly.” Javier rolled his eyes, wringing his hands together and avoiding eye contact with the other man. “You like her, man. It’s nothing to be ashamed about. You know, before I met Connie, I never thought I wanted a girlfriend either, much less a wife. I thought I’d be…tied down, I guess. I wanted the freedom to do whatever I wanted. But now…I can’t imagine life without her.”

I already can’t imagine a life without her… “She’s our coworker.”

“Hey, you can’t help who you fall in love with, man.” Javier cringed at the word love. He wasn’t in love with you. Yeah, keep telling yourself that, pendejo, his inner thoughts told him. “As far as I can tell, and I do have better vision than you, I think she feels the same way.” Oh, buddy, you have no idea. “I say go for it. We get this extremely short life once, a chance of it being even shorter in our line of work, you can’t take things for granted and you can’t risk missing out on something that can be beautiful.”

Javier looked over at Steve with a raised brow. “Getting wifed up has made you way more sentimental, man.”

Steve shrugged. “But you know it’s true.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“You know what, this conversation is making me miss my wife. Let me know how this whole thing goes, okay? Seriously. I care about her too.” And with that, Steve took off, leaving Javier alone with his thoughts, along with the occasional cough or sneeze from other waiting room patients. But other than that, deadly silent. One of the things Javi hates most about hospitals. The silence. The people waiting to hear if their loved ones have survived or not, or waiting to see if they live or die themselves. It reeked of death and he thought: you don’t belong here. You’d never belong here. This place isn’t lively enough for your standards. You shined most working with other people, making others feel at ease with your attitude, caring and compassionate, one of the reasons you even got into this job in the first place. You cared about what happened to people, and you wanted the best for everyone. Maybe that’s why Javier was so drawn to you, ever the pessimist, your light was like a breath of fresh air. Being in the DEA hardened him as a person, seeing the worst in people almost on a daily basis, it can make a person jaded. But you never let the stuff you see change who you were; you still loved, you still cared, you still tried to find the fun in any situation and Javi admired you for that, not that he’d ever admit it.

“She’s ready to see you now.” The doctor’s voice knocked Javier out of his thoughts, his reminiscence being replaced by nervous eagerness.

It was only then, a few steps away from entering your hospital room, that Javier realized he was still clad in his bulletproof vest. He hadn’t gone home to wash off the light splatters of blood or his sweat coated body, and his hair was a tousled bird’s nest. He surely looked like a hot mess. But then he started to wonder when he ever got nervous about his appearance. Jesus, you really fucked him up. He couldn’t help but fix his hair a little before entering your room, hopefully managing to pat down some wild curls. But the smile on your face as he finally came into view told him he didn’t look as bad as he thought. That smile also pierced right through his hardened exterior, a breath of relief when he saw that you were okay.

“Hey, stranger.” You spoke lazily, clearly still a little loopy from the anesthesia.

Javier took a seat next to your bed, looking you over and frowning when he saw all the tubes attached to you. You could’ve lost her…

“Where’s Steve? The doctor said he was with you?”

She’s asking about Murphy when I’m right here? “Oh, he uh, went home, to make sure Connie knows he’s okay. He did want to see you though.”

“Yeah, I believe it. You should’ve seen the look on his face when that bullet got me. I’ve never seen him so scared shitless.” You chuckled. Again, always finding humor in a situation even when you literally got shot. It almost infuriated him, but the mental image of Steve freaking out did make him smirk a little.

“How are you feeling?”

You shrugged. “Tired. No, I'm exhausted. Who knew getting shot would make you wanna sleep for a week?”

“Are you hurting at all?”

“Just a little sore. They’ve got me on a shitload of painkillers right now, so I’m unlikely to feel anything at the moment. Embarrassment, however, I do feel.”

Javier furrowed his brows. “Why would you ever feel embarrassed? You got fuckin’ shot.”

“Exactly. I told you I could take care of myself and yet, here I am.” You huffed. “I never thought this would happen to me. I guess…I just got too comfortable.”

Before he could stop himself, Javier reached out to place his hand over yours, almost gasping when he felt how cold your skin was. “Hey, don’t be embarrassed, okay? You’re alive, that’s all that matters. Some of us don’t get so lucky. I’m relieved.”

He didn’t miss the subtle flustered expression on your face. “Oh…so, you’re not gonna say I told you so?” You smiled weakly.

Javier grinned. “Well, I can’t exactly say that when you’re laying in a hospital bed.”

“Eh, you could. You’d just be a massive asshole. But then again, you already are.” He knew it was just a joke, but it was true. He was an asshole, especially to you. Maybe it was the medication you were on, but he had no idea why you were being so friendly to him. If he were rejected by someone he likes, then that person proceeded to talk down to him when they were annoyed, he’d have little kind words to say. In fact, he was surprised you weren’t currently punching him in the face. You frowned, and Javier wanted to curse himself for giving his feelings away. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “No, you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who’s-”

“Visiting hours are over.” A nurse interrupted, rather rudely.

You both frowned. Javier nodded to the nurse as he reluctantly let go of your hand, giving you a double take at the door, imprinting the image of you weakly waving goodbye with a small smile on your face to memory so he had something to hold onto before the next visit.

The week went by way too slow. Not even a week. You were recovering really well, so the doctors cleared you to go home sooner than expected. Javier found himself being anxious all the time, even at home after work was over. He drank a bit more than usual, until Steve came over one night and saw the state of his apartment and quickly intervened. He’d never admit this, but Javier was thankful for his partner. He was a good man, he supposed that’s why he made such a good DEA agent.

Javier had implicitly volunteered to be the one to look out for you when you were allowed back home, since you two lived in the same apartment building. Couldn’t really have been anyone else, and he wanted to. He wasn’t there for you when you got shot, but he sure as hell could be there when you recovered. Though, after a long conversation, you both decided it would be best that you stayed in his apartment until you could walk around on your own. The doctor had put you on a strict bedrest regime, to make sure you didn’t tear any stitching and reopen the wound. You lived alone, so staying with Javier just seemed like the most logical choice. Though, it put him in a near stupor.

Javier never cleaned so much in his life. He wanted everything to be perfect, nothing out of place and he’d be damned if there was even one speck of dust on any surface. It only increased his anxiety to the point he almost considered punching a hole into his wall. It’d be okay, he told himself, you were just staying until you could walk. That wouldn’t take that long. Yeah, he could do this. He could be professional while being in close proximity with you for more than the usual work hours. You’re fucked, man.

Steve helped drop you off at your apartments after picking you up from the hospital. Javier quickly put out the cigarette he was smoking as he heard the knock on the door, opening it to see you in a wheelchair with Steve behind you. “Someone order a damaged DEA agent?” He joked, only to get a slap on the arm from you. “Bad joke, sorry.” He coughed nervously, Javier stepping away so he could push the wheelchair inside. “Anyway, take real good care of her now.” He winked, earning a glare from Javier. “Alright, I’ll be going now.”

“Idiot…” Javier mumbled, earning a quiet giggle from you. Thankfully, Javier had a spare bedroom that he never used. He mostly used it as a storage room but cleaned it up a little and bought an extra mattress to use for the time being, while he insisted you stay in his own bedroom. “Sorry, it’s not much.” He spoke as he helped you to his bed.

“Don’t worry, it’s great.” You huffed as you laid yourself down, a small wince on your face. The doctor had been weaning you off the pain meds, so you weren’t the most comfortable. “Thanks again for letting me stay here until I get my bearings. I really appreciate it.”

Javier shook his head. “No problem. Just, uh, let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you…Javi.” You spoke softly as he turned to exit the room.

He almost ran into the door as soon as you said that, his heart fluttering inside his ribcage. He closed his eyes briefly to just savor the sound of your voice when you finally said his first name, finally after so long. He knew it was just out of appreciation, but he could take the little victories. He stiffly nodded before closing the door on his way out, letting out a sharp exhale when he got to his living room. How was he going to survive you staying with him for a couple weeks when he gets flustered within just a couple minutes around you in general? He hated to admit, but Steve was right. 

Javi was fuckin’ smitten.

With this newfound acceptance, Javier found himself just standing at the island in his kitchen doing nothing but blankly staring into space. You were here. You were safe. You were just in the other room. And yet, Javier was itching to go back and make sure you were doing alright, even though, logically, he knew you were probably just sleeping. He noticed the dark circles under your eyes and figured it was difficult trying to find any sort of peace inside a hospital. He knew he wouldn’t, but then again, he always had trouble sleeping. Even more so after you got shot.

For the first time in a while, the nightmares he was plagued with actually got to him. It wasn’t like all the other times he was shot or stabbed, betraying his own department, or Pablo always managing to escape when he was just within reach (although, that was more reality bleeding into his dreams). He almost always saw the dead bodies of the people he’s killed, especially the innocent ones. But then he started to see you.

It was always the same. You were calling out for Javier, begging for help. He ran to you, but it was like he was trying to run through mud or quicksand. He tried so hard to get to you before you were shot, but he was always too late. As soon as he reached you, you were already dying in his arms. Over and over again. To think those dreams would’ve stopped once you were home from the hospital, but nope. He went to sleep that night waking up in a similar cold sweat and racing heart. He almost couldn’t bear to look at you, guilt eating away at him even though it wasn’t his fault. He absolutely hated the fact he still had to go into work. This mission was put on hold for no one, not even you.

He was always anxious at work, to the point everyone noticed. He still did his job, but his eyes were vacant and it seemed anything he did was just instinct. He just kept thinking what if you needed him and he wasn’t there to help you? It didn’t bother Javier that everything figured out his affection for you, it was bound to happen sooner or later. He just hoped it didn’t get back to you before he could tell you himself.

But after he came home, he went back to his old behaviors. It’s true what people say: habits die hard. He did attempt to act more warm and accommodating, for both your sakes. But he made sure to never cross that line of professionalism. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or be forced into a situation when you were practically still dependent on him to move around. He didn’t want to cross any unspoken boundary. No, he’d keep his feelings to himself a bit longer. After you can walk on your own, or maybe even after you come back to work…or maybe when the mission is over and Pablo is dead or behind bars.

But after another gruesome nightmare, Javier got into the habit of peeking into your (his) bedroom. Just to make sure you were still there. Even when his nightmares mellowed out, he still did it. He even started to sit by your bed and just watch you sleep peacefully. God, he felt like such a creep. And what was it he said about boundaries?

Javier thought he’d just stay quiet, pretend like he never memorized every part of your face as you slept. Like how he noticed your nose twitched like a bunny sometimes, or how your lips pulled into a tiny and almost unnoticeable smile. But of course, he couldn’t do that forever. You started to be able to move around on your own, albeit extremely carefully. But still, that just meant you could go back to your own apartment soon…

Javier had a really bad dream that night after seeing you take baby steps into the living room, a giant smile on your face as you finally were able to do things yourself. And of course, it was the same exact dream. He went to your bedroom right after, anxious to see your peacefully sleeping form that would instantly calm him, only to find you whimpering and slightly stirring in your sleep. Ah, so he wasn’t the only one plagued by nightmares.

He thought about leaving you alone, letting you wake up on your own, but when he heard you whispering mumbled “nos” and “stops” with tears trailing down your cheeks, he couldn’t just let you suffer.

After a brief moment of hesitation, Javier slowly sat down next to you, brushing a hand over your cheek delicately, the action only slightly stirring you. “Hey, sweetheart.” Fuck, the name just came out naturally. He’s so glad that it didn’t wake you. He called your name, gently shaking your shoulder until you shot up with wide eyes, winding back your fist to punch him before he caught it. “Hey, hey, it’s me. It’s me.”

You slowly relaxed, bringing your hands down with an exhale. “Javi…” You whispered his name like a prayer, like you almost couldn’t believe he was actually there with you.

“Must’ve been some nightmare.” Javier guessed, and you winced.

“Was…was I loud?”

“You were crying in your sleep…” He didn’t really answer your question, it was true, but Javier never would’ve heard you if he wasn’t creeping around your room in the first place.

“Oh god, I’m sorry. I usually don’t get nightmares like this.”

“What were you dreaming about?” Javier could’ve probably guessed, and from the expression on your face when you looked at him, he was right.

“I haven’t had nightmares about it before. Not even the nights right after. I don’t know.” You shrugged. “I guess…my theory, now that I can walk around without tearing myself apart, I guess that means I can go back to my apartment. And I'm glad I’m better. It’s just, you’ve been so kind and made me feel safe here, and the thought of having to live all alone again, even if I know you’re just downstairs…” You shook your head, curling in on yourself in embarrassment.

“Then…you can stay here a bit longer.” That felt like a confession, to Javier anyway. And he almost regretted saying it until…

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t do that to you. I know you’ve been counting down the days until I could handle walking myself again.”

Javi furrowed his brows, his heart dropping to his stomach. “What? I haven’t-”

“I’ve made things awkward, Javi. I know that. I know I haven’t been handling that whole rejection thing very well, but I’m trying, okay? I really am trying.” You sighed. “I never should’ve told you then, but I figured, you can get over a person a lot quicker if you just confessed early on. I’m sorry but, it hasn’t been working much. That’s not your fault, of course, it’s my problem. Living with you these past couple weeks have not made it any easier though.” You chuckled bitterly, wiping away a few shed tears as soon as they fell over your cheeks, making Javier’s heart clench painfully. “God, I’m such an idiot.” You whispered to yourself.

Javier exhaled shakily, turning away from you, looking down at the floor. “You remember back at the hospital, you called me an asshole?”

“It was a joke, and I apologized, Peña.”

Javier winced at the sound of his last name. No. No, no, no, he was not going to go through this. Not again. Just swallow your pride for once, man. “I didn’t get to finish what I was gonna say back then, 'cause that bitch nurse told me I had to leave.” He growled.

You chuckled weakly. “And what were you going to say?”

Now or never, right?

“I was gonna say you’re right. I am. An asshole. I’m the one who should be apologizing to you.”

You made a confused noise. “What’re you talking about?”

Goddamn it. “I’ve been an asshole to you since that night…”

You sighed. “You don’t have to explain yourself, Peña. I get it.”

“Please, just let me talk.” He begged, and Javier never begged. The pleading look in his eyes finally got you to shut your mouth. His heart was racing. He thought about taking a deep breath but he was just afraid it would turn into hyperventilating, so not helpful. “Sorry, I’m no good at this. Talking. Damn it…” He whispered. “Fuck it, I like you, alright?” He spat, sounding more angry than he meant.

“W-What?” You stuttered, suddenly sounding much more awake and sitting up against your pillows.

“You heard me.”

“I did, I just…” You shook your head. “I don’t understand. Are you saying this to…mess with me or something?”

“No. No, I’m not. I mean, I’m-” Javier groaned in frustration. He wasn’t used to this, he never really did this, talk about his emotions. He didn’t know it would be this hard. Man, maybe he did need a therapist. He flinched when you placed your hand on his shoulder, but you didn’t pull away.

“Hey, it’s okay, Javi.” You spoke softly when you noticed how on edge he was. “Calm down. Just take a deep breath.” He did as he was told, for once. Taking deep breaths while focusing on the heat radiating from you, using it to ground himself before he even tried talking again.

“When Steve told me you were shot…” He stuttered shakily, his voice betraying him. “I feared the worst. I thought…I thought there was a chance I’d never see you again.”

You frowned, your bottom lip trembling. “Oh, Javi, come here.” You pulled him to you, allowing his head to rest on your shoulder, gently running your hand through his hair while your other hand guided his hand to rest over the pulse point on your neck. “I’m safe. I’m alive. See? I’m not gonna be so reckless again, I promise.”

Javier closed his eyes, snuggling further onto your neck, breathing in your calming scent, spurring him to keep talking. “I thought that I didn’t want to be with anyone. I convinced myself that I don’t need anyone but me…then I got to know you and I started to realize, I’d rather give up this case than see you get hurt. That night you told me how you felt, I thought I was sparing you. But I was just afraid, a coward. The truth is…I fuckin’ need you.” From where his hand was laying on your neck, Javi could feel your pulse quicken. He called out your name in concern, more of hesitance. He finally lifted his head to look at you, immediately noticing the tears in your eyes but a bashful smile on your face.

Letting go of his restraint and not worrying about the consequences for once, Javier surged forward, capturing your lips with his. The little gasp that came from you was probably one of the cutest sounds he’s ever heard, besides your laugh. Your lips were so soft, moving against his languidly. He smiled into the kiss as he felt you rake your hands through his hair, bringing his body to yours as close as humanly possible. Javier wasn’t the best with words, but this he knew how to do. He tried to pour every single emotion he had for you into this kiss: adoration, care, frenzied lust, and maybe even love. The only reason he finally pulled away is because he heard you wince.

Oh, he’d pressed against you too hard and put some pressure on your stitching. Damn it, of course, your first kiss with her and you have to fuck it up somehow.

“I’m so sorry.” He spoke, panicked, wildly looking over your expression to make sure you weren’t in any more pain.

You shook your head with a grin, a mildly dazed gleam in your eyes. “You’re okay. You’re more than okay.”

“I got…a little carried away.” He blushed, having to forcefully put a little bit of distance between you. “God, I’ve thought about doing that for so long.” He admitted.

You smirked, trying to cover up your nervousness. “Did it live up to your expectations?”

More than you could ever know. 

“I probably should’ve asked this before I kissed you, but…do you wanna go out with me sometime?” He didn’t know why he sounded so nervous, like you’d ever say no, but he didn’t know that. His body untensed as you gave him the most bright smile he’d ever seen from you.

“Of course, Javi.” Javi, Javi, Javi. The beautiful sound repeated in his mind.

“Say my name again, please.” You leaned forward to kiss him again, repeating it after you broke apart. He never thought his name could sound more alluring than when you said it. God, he wanted to absolutely ravish you, but he’d never risk hurting you. He was a patient man, he could wait, however long you needed. He was already planning it in his mind. He wasn’t the most romantic, but rose petals did come into mind, making him chuckle to himself. “I guess I’ll…let you get back to sleep now.”

Javier moved to stand from your bed, but you stopped him by grabbing onto his wrist. “Would it be too much if I asked you to stay?” Your best puppy dog eyes were on full display, making his heart swell. He could never say no to that face.

“Mi tesoro…” Javi whispered as you both settled in for the rest of the night, him laying on his back while you leaned your head against his chest, a protective arm wrapped around you. Yeah, he could get used to this, especially with you. The both of you fell fast asleep pretty quickly. And what d’ya know? He didn’t have another nightmare after that.

You decided to stay at his apartment for a little while longer. Well, it was more of an insistence from Javier. He was almost always on you like a leech, but he never heard you complain. From the constant stream of giggles and smiles you threw his way, Javi was pretty sure you enjoyed his company. Now that the tension finally broke, it was back to how it used to be between you, only more intensified. That damned gunshot wound was the only wall between you, but that wall wound was broken soon enough. Of course, when that happened, you also had to get back to work, which you were missing greatly. You wanted to catch Escobar just as much as everyone else, so you were ecstatic to get back on the case.

Javier tried his best not to helicopter you around, he knew if someone was doing that to him he’d want to claw their eyes out. He gave you your space, but that anxiety came back in full force whenever they’d try to make an arrest. From then on, you were always right by Javier’s side whenever the guns had to come out. Maybe he was overprotective, but he didn’t care; he needed you safe.

It wasn’t really a shock to anyone that you and Javier got together. Some even made bets, which infuriated him. Steve was the worst about it, teasing Javi whenever he got the chance. At least no one teased you, not that anyone would be stupid enough to try.

As the team had gotten word about where one of Pablo’s men were hiding out, the station started to shift into that similar tension, much too similar to that day you were shot. Javier felt like he was going to have a panic attack. But at this point, you had been around each other so constantly that you developed a sort of sixth sense to whatever he was feeling. You didn’t hesitate to grab his hand, bringing it up so his palm could cup your cheek. “Hey, we’re gonna be fine.” Javier forced himself to nod. “You’ve got my back?”

He cracked a smile. “Of course I do, cariño.” 

Javier leaned down to kiss you passionately, taking you by surprise. PDA in the workplace wasn’t really strictly forbidden, but it was common courtesy not to lock lips with your partner. But Javi didn’t care, he needed you when he needed you. 

No one was going to take that away from him.  No one was going to take you away from him. Never again.

like i said...chokehold. he has too much power. someone save me.

[profounddefendorcrusade-blog]

Let's talk about genocide Starlo

... because on one hand, I understand where the devs were coming from. They wanted to highlight that Star was not the cool, badass sheriff he'd love to be. Some pointed out how, realistically, he couldn't have defeated Clover and especially delivered the final blow (he does it in pacifist/neutral bc hes in the worst possible headspace). Star is a big softie and a "naive fool," lets be real. But still, there is one more thing that he is: caring.

He cares about the town, toursits, especially his friends. It's been shown over and over and OVER again. And i'm sure as hell disappointed he didn't bring a real gun. Yeah, he was always aware this was all play pretend, but just for a few minutes, this man should have tried to be the sheriff he never got the chance to be before.

For the sake of everyone. For the sake of justice.

I'm not even asking for an epic battle. I'm asking for a battle that wouldn't even be close to Undyne's in UT's geno. But it would be Starlo's battle. A battle he was robbed of for the sake of Ceroba getting the spotlight.. for the 2nd time. Because this dude is clearly seen as a joke by the devs. I'll ask:

Why ceroba AGAIN? she shone in pacifist, while Star was always more of a comic relief and its depressing. Especially since the genocide route ties too well with a twisted image of justice. Star values it as much as Clover, but here he could have been the hero of justice. I just have to say....

STARLO IS THE ONLY ONE OF THE MAIN CHARACTERS WHO DOESN'T EVEN HAVE BATTLE MODE IN GENOCIDE WE WERE ROBBED HES LITERALLY THE EQUIVALENT TO MONSTER KID OR METTATON NEO i'm not sure BUT EVEN MK GOT A BATTLE MODE. METTATON NEO ALSO GOT A BATTLE MODE. EVERYONE GOT A BATTLE MODE EXCEPT STARLO

He should have said... "I may not be a real sheriff by title, but my soul will deliver justice!" Or smth Then just like during the Asgore fight, he'd almost be dead, ceroba arrives, tries to protect star, gets shot by Clover, they say goodbye to each other, then, before he is about to get shot too starlo says smth like genocide undyne and that's how he goes out.

Even better, he, without thinking, throws his hat on the ground (bc he metaphorically no longer wants to admire or associate himself with humans, ever again), seeing his bff die in front of him and goes either: "I don't care if you make fun. This isn't about being cool anymore. This is about my town, my friends. This is about JUSTICE." or "No... I won't fight you/deliver justice as North Star." *pause* "I'll do it as Starlo." and the dork then just stares at clover (There'd be a "laugh" option if Clover decides to act because, well, they see him for the nerd he is) but he's DETERMINED and at this point it doesn't even matter if he's not skilled, he'd do something he hadn't done in years just for the sake of saving his remaining friends, family, and other potential victims: Starlo would fight AS HIMSELF.

But maybe he wouldn't even fight after he takes his hat off. maybe he'd try to explain to Clover violence isn't the answer like Martlet, because that's something the real him would do. He'd drop the hat, drop the gun, drop the belief that he's a badass, and instead accept that he was, and always will be, a big ol' softie. And there's nothing wrong with that.

Point is, would he actually kill clover? hell no. That would be ooc (now that I think about it, why wouldn't he, when he is able to do it in other 2 routes? And he COULD have done it in flawed pacifist? His whole world and identity crashing down and losing all his friends is terrible, losing his bff to a human he trusted and to whom he gave a gun is also terrible, but so is letting a genocidal maniac continue killing)

But he'd die knowing two things:

1)he had tried to be a real, dignified sheriff, and failed (bc he died, not bc he didn't try. In canon, he doesn't even try and THAT'S SO UNLIKE HIM especially considering the situation)

2)in his final moments, he finally became himself again

and that.. that would have been so much more satisfying than what we got.

[sshadowritestoriess]

UH HI TELEPORTS BEHIND YOU.

would u be willing to write reader comforting cassidy. my mind is set on “i can fix him” mode rn i need to hold that man

HAHA certainly, I’ll give this a shot :]

Comforting Cassidy

Mind you, Cole Cassidy is far from being a dependent man. He enjoys his life and how far he’s come, likes what he’s got going. Gets a kick out of being a hero, really, even if that is a bit selfish

But that doesn’t mean things don’t get to him every now and again

A reputation can be a man’s greatest curse, and Cole has quite the ledger dragging behind him.

As much as he leans into the things he does now, figuring himself a better man— though a lot harder than robbing banks, he’d often say. But that just meant the work is worth it— the past never quite lets go, even if he did.

The Deadlock gang was just becoming more of a nuisance every time they happened to find him. He couldn’t help a smile for the nostalgia, but as time ebbs on it starts to get old

His involvement with Blackwatch wasn’t entirely his fault. At least, not in terms of all their wrongdoings. He just wanted to do right, but Reyes turned out to be quite the conflicting role model

And then Overwatch ended up disbanded after he’d already walked out. It’s what the world had wanted, apparently. Every news story preached about the fall of these “terrorists”, something he took to heart a little when his name kept getting used as one of the bad examples.

He knew he hadn’t been the best person. He couldn’t deny the things he did, but that’s why he had come to Overwatch— to try and make up for those things by enacting Justice for others.

So while he’d been doing a whole lot of trying for the last several years, he sure was getting a whole lot of shit for it. Still. Even when he was beginning to believe his good deeds were finally outweighing the bad.

So, yeah, it got to him sometimes. A recent headline, CRIMINAL MISTAKENLY EXPOSES JUNKER HEIST, ESCAPES POLICE SHOOTOUT — which was no accident.

He’d slipped a tip to the head chief when he’d run into the man at a bar, having intercepted a call between some other wanted felons. There was a literal recording of the conversation in the envelope he’d left— what part of that was “mistaken”?

When their troops didn’t arrive, Cassidy took it upon himself to hold them off until they finally realized he wasn’t bullshitting. Yet when help finally came, he was roped in with the bad guys, and he was shot at.

Adrenaline and frustration makes for one hell of a drug. Even through the fray, he didn’t stop taking down the junkers until he was positive the police could handle what was left of them. Then he fled.

He’d had to take off his hat and wrap it carefully into his serape, ducking behind a dumpster just around a building to tie his hair up— then glancing down to realize he’d been shot through his side— and slipped away from the scene through an alley. He held the bundle of red cloth between his arms like a football, covering where he’d been hit.

It was a lousy disguise, but the hat made for a pretty recognizable target when he’s being pursued. Hiding it lowered his chances of being approached, despite the soft clanking of peacekeeper in its holster.

So he’d managed to limp all the way back home, a temporary apartment just in the outskirts of the city. Your car was parked by the curb across the street— home early. Damn.

He came inside and you greeted him as normal, but noticed quickly the hard look in his eyes and the sweat on his brow. There was a scrape in his prosthetic, a dent in the armor of his chest, and a growing dark spot in the bundled serape.

Your worrying was always endearing, he just hates being the cause for your fret.

“I’m alright, pumpkin, just had a bit of a tussle-“ he’d try to tell you gently, a blatant lie that sank like a rock in his throat when you’d spotted the bullet wound.

You hurried him to lay on the couch, fetching some medical supplies you kept under the kitchen sink. Treating bullet wounds was a skill he’d had the misfortune to teach you, this wasn’t anywhere close to the first time he’d been shot since he met you and it absolutely wouldn’t be the last.

He could do it himself, but you had more careful hands than he did.

You demanded to know what happened, and he gave you the rundown. He always made sure to reiterate these encounters as if he were telling an exciting story, glorifying his actions like he were some kind of superhero.

This often lessened your concerns, but you still didn’t like when he gets hurt. You weren’t going to try and convince him to stop, though— you knew he was likely going to remain on this road until something eventually gets in his way

And then you asked a question he most commonly lied about.

“Are you feeling okay?”

Thus his default response, “Course I am, darlin’. Why wouldn’t I be?”

A soft smile, and a kiss. But you always had your suspicions that he didn’t want to be open about what was really going on in his head.

Surface level, he really was okay. He didn’t need to talk about this things, what did it matter if he knew he’d never be deterred?

But a couple hours later, seeing that damned headline from the events of today, you actually caught his solemn sigh from where he sat at the edge of the bed, glaring into the screen of his phone that was far too bright this late into the evening.

You caught sight of the large capital letters and his troubled stare, but the screen went black and his gaze softened the moment your hand touched his back

“You’re allowed to be upset.” You told him, “You’ve got no reason to pretend around me.”

“Caught me, huh?” He offered half of a smile, but it was tired. He couldn’t meet your gaze anymore.

You pulled him to face you, embracing him as tightly as you could, and told him that he was a good man. He hugged you back, though far more gently than the way you tried to squeeze him

He would chuckle to you, “I know, I know,” then wait a couple moments before finally giving in, starting with a defeated, “…it’s just…”

He rambled a bit about his frustrations, and how conflicted he felt about himself at times. He knew he was doing the right thing, but what was most important was if he felt it was worth it— right? Was it worth it?

You would assure him that, yes, he’d done more than enough. He should do what makes him happiest— only to have him make a sappy joke about being with you in response.

“I’m serious.”

Another sigh, he sinks into your hold. “Yeah, yeah… I hear ya.” it was just hard not to deflect.

He felt your hand come up to his head suddenly, and you thread your fingers through his hair to pet him.

He melts. Comically, he pushes all his weight on you until you’re forced back onto your elbows, his face in your chest. He’s happy to hear your laugh

You both get into a more comfortable position, but you keep combing your hand through his hair. He has your waist trapped in his arms, sealed against him, and his eyes are closed.

“Y’always know what to say,” he murmurs eventually, “my lil’ corner of good in the world. How’d you manage that?”

“I know you. It’s not hard to guess.” You tell him, “And… you don’t owe me your thoughts Cole, but I hope you know I’m here for you. You can always talk to me, you know?”

He takes a while to finally nod against you, a grunt being a weak acknowledgment that he understood. “Jus’ hard, a bit. But I gotcha.” He presses a kiss into your jaw.

“We’ll get there.” You say patiently, and he grins.

He wasn’t a dependent man, but damn it all if he didn’t enjoy leaning into you like this sometimes. With you, he knew he’d do better for himself too.

[yevmarie]

Light My Fire | Chapter 6

Masterlist

< Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 >

Plot: having lost everything you are drowned in depression, which had happened to you a year ago. Now you need to struggle with the apocalypse as well with no sparkle in your heart. But there is one man who can light your fire to live.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader

Word count: 2.4k

Pronouns: you, she/her

Warnings (the chapter is a whole red flag, I'm sorry): angst, just a bit of angry and fluffy Daryl, swearing, smoking (by reader), physical abuse towards the reader (but the abuser is punished), the reader finally goes nuts (and there's no wonder here), differences from the main plot may occur, bad English (not my first language).

A/N: I'm a bit struggling with writing currently, so I literally pushed myself to finish the chapter even with the ready dialogue from the episode. I hope I didn't mess it up so much. And I want to apologize ahead if I didn't add you to the taglist. I'm not good at being attentive to details, so please don't take it personally and don't hesitate to let me know if I accidentally skipped you <3.

Taglist: @your-shifting-gurl @bae-live-0 @richardsamboramylove55 @deansapplepie @snailss @denisecabrera @dreamtofus

You opened your eyes and stared at the ceiling of Daryl’s tent. Another tough morning, but with less nausea and headaches, thank God. It seems like your physical and mental states are gradually returning to normal. But you still feel worn out and lost because of the emotional rollercoasters and the events causing them.

You were thinking about whether Merle is still alive or not, hoping for the best, of course. You were scared to see Daryl finding out his brother had been cuffed on the roof of the building full of walkers. And it seemed like only you were bothered by this situation. Everyone else seemed not to care at all. It was obvious the Dixons were not members of a blue-blood family, but it wasn’t a reason for the group to take justice into their own hands. It hurt you that Rick didn't understand your concerns. Sure, he didn’t. You couldn't tell him that the rednecks were the only ones who somehow cared about you because his wife and best friend were too busy with each other. Yes, it wasn’t like the brothers did everything for you, but it was way more than Shane did. Let’s be honest; he did nothing except ignore you.

You finally decided to get up, making your way to get breakfast near the campfire. Sitting alone, you caught different looks from the people in the group. You were ready for it and tried not to pay much attention. After the meal, you went back to Daryl’s tent to brew coffee and read a book. Thanks to Carol, who understood your state and let you have your deserved rest. You went a bit further from the tent to find some wood. You slowly walked, collecting sticks, trying to occupy your mind with your favorite songs you hummed when suddenly you heard Shane’s voice.

“Hey, baby girl. Why are you walking here alone?” you turned around and saw him getting closer to you.

“How long have you been following me?” you asked, keeping a poker face but at the same time feeling some unexplainable sense of danger crawling under your skin, making you shiver.

“I haven’t. Just was walking around,” the man chuckled and stood up too close to you. You knew every inch of this person, all his moves, gestures, tones of voice, look. But this was a different person. He wasn’t the Shane you used to know and love. Something had changed in him.

“Shane, what do you want?” you were trying to register every move of him that could signalize danger so you could fight or flee. Surely not freeze.

“Nothing. Just to talk,” Shane’s smile was slowly fading away.

“Don’t you think you should do this with Rick first?” suddenly you thought you would need to run away soon. You didn’t know why this thought came to you, and the absence of reasoning made your heart race.

“I do think I should do it with you only,” Shane’s voice sounded lower. You gulped but tried to do your best to stay cold.

“Ah, gotcha. No one is going to admit you both messed up and tell Rick how ‘faithful’ you are. Of course, he’ll beat the shit out of you. But why do this when there’s me who can be threatened and manipulated any way you like, huh?” you still tried to hide any emotions, though you were trembling like a leaf when Shane took a step towards you. “Shane, don’t move. You are scaring me,” you laid your arm where your gun usually is, but you felt only the fabric of your clothes.

“You left the camp without your gun, Y/N,” this dickhead had been following you for a while and noticed you were unarmed.

Shit!

In another moment, you felt his arm squeezing your neck, slamming you into the nearest tree and hurting the back of your head. You instinctively tried to inhale but struggled to do so, ending up coughing.

"If Rick somehow finds out about Lori and me…” you barely heard him whispering in your ear but interrupted.

“Then what? You’ll kill me?” you huffed, trying to free yourself from Shane’s firm grip. “If she’s pregnant, then I’ll be such a waste of a weapon. What will you do then, huh?” Here, you realized you had found this weak spot by how his breath started shaking, and he couldn’t find any words to answer. “Oh, darling, you’re so fucked up,” you felt the squeeze become tighter. You looked into Shane’s eyes with your almost blurred sight.

“Nothing to say?” you felt Shane’s hard breath and tremble going through his hand still holding your neck. “Then finish what you’ve started because I won’t keep silent. I will make you pay for everything you've done to me, you piece of shit,” the slap of his hand stung your cheek and made you wince and close your eyes.

You heard some noise, similar to how arrows hit, followed by punches and curses. You exhaled with all your lungs, coughing as you were freed from Shane’s grip. You fell on the ground and blinked away the haze covering your sight, seeing Daryl sitting above Shane, who was laying on the ground, and punching him. The archer stopped for a second to have a look at you and felt relief you were alive. Pale, coughing, eyes washing with tears, but alive.

You heard Shane’s laugh. “Y/N, I see you didn’t waste any time as well.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, closing your eyes and leaning on the tree.

After another punch to Shane’s face, Daryl gripped the man’s shirt collar.

“Listen carefully, ‘cause I won’t repeat this. If I ever see ya touching her, talking to her, or even looking at her. Any movement towards her I don’t like, ya’re dead. Ya’re fucking dead and will be feeding the walkers around,” Daryl stood up and walked towards you, taking out the arrow that had hit the tree next to you.

Shane stood up as well, wiping the blood from his nose and dusting himself off from the soil. 

“You’re just in time, Daryl…” Shane started but was shut up by Daryl turning to him.

“Skull itching?” the archer clenched his fist, threatening to break the arrow he was holding.

“Talk to you later,” Shane mumbled and slowly headed back to camp.

“Are you okay?” Daryl sat down close to you, caressing your cheek to wipe away your tears. You could only shake your head in response. “What the hell was all that?”

“Rick…” you gulped to soothe your hoarse voice. “Rick, that friend I was talking about. He is back. His wife and Shane…”

“Gotcha. I gotcha,” Daryl bit his lower lip. “Where’s your weapon?”

“I left it in the tent…”

Daryl stood up and wiped the sweat beads covering his face.

“Why the hell is it in the tent?” Daryl yelled, looking at you crying. “I told ya your recklessness will kill ya one day. Lucky ya I was just coming back,” the archer was freaking out. His voice grew louder, his breath heavy and shaky. He bit his lower lip, obviously trying not to lose his composure completely.

“Daryl, I… I owe you till the end of my days,” you sniffled.

“I'll let it off if ya keep your damn weapon with ya and leave the camp at least with someone ya trust,” Daryl was still speaking in a raised voice, though he wasn’t angry at you. He was angry at the whole situation. He couldn’t cheer you up because he needed it as well. He understood your shock when a person you once considered beloved, shared plans and dreams with, and even bedded, nearly killed you. But witnessing that scene was too much for him. He just thanked whatever higher power there was that he arrived in time.

“Ya promise me?” you lifted your head to meet his eyes full of despair and just nodded as tears made your words stick in your throat.

“Good,” he took your hand to help you stand up. Scared to face his eyes again, you hugged his waist, leaning your head on his chest, hearing his heart threatening to jump out of his ribcage.

“Thank you,” you said trembling, clutching his shirt for dear life. You felt him tense, but he finally hugged you tightly and brushed your hair with his calloused fingers.

“Let’s go,” Daryl said with his gruff voice, loosening the hug. You nodded, letting him go, and waited for him to grab his crossbow from his hunting run.

“Nice garland,” you joked, pointing at the bundle of killed squirrels. Daryl rolled his eyes.

“Then ya won’t eat it but enjoy seeing it hanging near the tent.”

“I’d rather see Shane’s body instead,” you mumbled, earning a scrunched face from Daryl. Suddenly, you heard the noise of scrunched leaves, as if there was some animal nearby.

“Go back,” Daryl whispered. “I’ll come later. Seems like we’ll have deer today.”

You nodded and slowly moved towards the camp.

---

Arriving at the camp, you went into the tent to retrieve your gun, fearing your ex could do something stupid again, and headed to the campfire, seeing Daryl returning only with the squirrels. You guessed the attempt to catch the animal had failed.

“Merle!” Daryl called out. “Merle! Get your ugly ass right here! I got us some squirrels! Let’s stew ‘em up.”

“Daryl, just slow down a bit. I need to talk to you,” you saw Shane following the archer.

“Want to get another punch?” the younger Dixon turned around to Shane.

“Calm down. It’s about Merle. There was a… There was a problem out there.”

Daryl looked around to see all the people concerned and you avoiding his eyes, taking out a cigarette to light up. Your reaction hit him hard.

“He dead?”

“We’re not sure,” Shane answered, scratching his nose and hissing at the pain caused by Daryl’s right hook earlier.

“He either is or he ain’t!” Daryl started to freak out, not getting a clear answer from the group.

“No easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it,” you turned around slowly, puffing out smoke to see Rick coming up to the archer.

“Who are ya?”

“Rick Grimes.”

“Rick Grimes? Ya got something ya want ta tell me?”

“Your brother was a danger to us all. So I handcuffed him on a roof, hooked him to a piece of metal. He’s still there.”

“Why are you so sure?” you asked Rick and dropped the cigarette to stub it out.

“Y/N! This doesn’t help at all,” Rick glanced at you fiercely.

“I could have helped if you hadn’t stopped me!” you cried, yelling at your friend, who clenched his jaws, feeling guilty for everything that had happened on that damn roof.

“Hold on. Let me process this,” Daryl wiped away the tear threatening to fall, which caused your heart to twist in pain. He was so vulnerable and desperate; it hit you hard. He was always so caring towards you, but you couldn’t help him at all. Rick barely stopped you from driving to Atlanta yesterday.

“Ya’re saying you handcuffed my brother to a roof and left him there?” the archer’s yell rang in your ears, feeling all the pain he was expressing.

“Yeah,” Rick looked at the ground to avoid the younger Dixon’s gaze, which was already burning him. Daryl breathed heavily, threw the bundle of squirrels to the sheriff, and was ready to attack him when suddenly he was pushed to the ground by Shane. You ran up to Daryl, but he took out a knife, so you stepped back in fear and froze. The archer stood up grunting and jumped at Rick but was stopped by Shane’s punch and then the further grip around his neck.

“Stop!” you shouted, but no one heard you as if you were not there.

“You’d better let me go!” Daryl huffed, trying to free himself.

“Nah, I think it’s better if I don’t,” Shane squeezed the archer’s neck.

“Chokehold’s illegal!” Daryl screamed, and you lost your temper, taking out the gun and pointing it at Shane.

“You can file a complaint,” Shane grunted but froze when he heard the click of the safety lock.

“Getting a little touchy-feely there today, hun?” you breathed heavily, feeling your sight hazy again and all the sounds becoming dull, turning to ringing. Shane slowly loosened the grip to free up Daryl, who was trying to catch his breath.

“Y/N,” Rick came up to you to calm you down but was stopped by you pointing the gun at him.

“I see this group understands only the language of violence, so I’ll talk this way,” you looked at everyone around. “You either have a calm discussion on this topic, or I’ll start shooting and attract walkers.”

“Calm down!” Shane growled at you but was cut off by you immediately.

“Don’t even talk to me if you want to be safe,” you said through gritted teeth, hinting by looking at Lori and back at him. You started to pray Rick hadn’t noticed it.

“Y/N, give me your gun. Please,” you looked at Rick slowly approaching you. You shook your head and locked the gun, putting it back in your harness. You took out another cigarette and lit it. Such a harmful and useless habit aimed to calm you down, but honestly, it never helped you. You sat on the log nearby and kept looking at the men who finally started a dialogue.

---

When you made sure Rick, Daryl, T-Dog, and Glenn worked out a plan to get back to Atlanta to find Merle and started to prepare for the run, you went to the tent to finally have your coffee and a book. Daryl followed you to take another arrows.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Didn’t know ya were such a hothead.”

“Me neither,” you replied emotionlessly and looked back at the man.

“Merle would like it.”

“And you?” your question made Daryl fluster.

“I still think ya’re reckless. But ya learn fast. I’ll tell ya some tricks when I’m back,” the man mumbled confusedly.

“Take care of yourself,” you gently smiled at him, causing butterflies in the archer’s stomach.

The man nodded and chewed his lower lip. “You too.”

You also nodded and watched the archer walk away.

< Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 >

[thousandsun]

My favorite client (Sanji x fem reader)

Warning:None

Genre:Fluff mostly

Words: 1.7K

Author's note:Watch me realize I know how to code in HTML and I don't need a site 💀

You are a marine,a powerful woman who lives for justice. After your last fight, with a crew of powerful pirates,your subordinates have gotten severely injured. That made you spend a few sleepless nights thinking about what you should do. Your doctors are barely holding up and your supplies are running low.

Finally,one of your most trusted men came up with an idea. "Ma'am?" He asked approaching you.

"Yes?" You turn to look at him. It's currently 1 am and the only thing that seems to be on your mind is your current problem.

"I found this map that indicates there's a sea restaurant. It's actually close to us" He remarked showing you the map, pointing with his finger at the destination.

Your eyes widen as you realize there is hope for your subordinates. You keep your professionalism on the outside as you reply to him in a calm tone "Then we're heading there."

The few men that seem to be alright gather to change the course of the ship. You make your way into your room. The moment you close the door,you feel tears in eyes,running down your cheeks. There is hope. There really is. You thought to yourself. You grew quite attached to your subordinates in the past years. You didn't want to lose them. You know it's wrong. It's wrong to care about those people so much. It's the marine,you are all destined to die for the government. You must accept it.

You lay down on your bed looking at the ceiling thinking,and thinking about everything.

The time flies by faster than you expected and the morning comes.

Of course you couldn't sleep all night. You are up,on the deck, waiting to get to the sea restaurant.

"We are expected to reach the destination in the following minutes,

Y/N-sama" The navigator informs you. You nod as you begin to notice the Baratie. You are the first one to step on the sea restaurant.

You enter the restaurant as some stuff welcomes you. "We need food. I have a whole ship,full of people, wanting to eat something. We have all the money you want" You hand him a suitcase full of berries. "I'll be sitting at one of the tables. Please bring me some food as well"

The man in front of you gives you a confused look. You choose to ignore it since you feel your stomach arguing with you for food. You take a seat at a table patently waiting for someone else to notice you.

A blonde man with curly eyebrows, wearing a suit notices you. His eyes are sparkling with passion. He quickly gets closer to you,to take your order and admire you,of course. "Good morning, mademoiselle. May I take your order?" His smile is brighter than the sun. He can't help but analyze you.

"You were fast to notice me." You remark. Your instincts are telling you not to trust him. Being a marine is tough,of course you can't just talk to anyone. Everyone can be dangerous. At least that's what the marine told you."Yes,you may,sir. I would like a steak with a salad." You reply politely.

He quickly writes down your order. He looks at your uniform and realizes that you're an officer. A beautiful and dangerous woman? Exactly my type. "So what's such a beautiful lady doing here,in this humble restaurant?" The blonde asks. Such a beautiful officer,like her, should have a private cook.

"Don't you ask too many questions for a waiter?" You raise your eyebrow giving him a cold gaze. "Know your place, waiter. I am not here to chat."

"Oh,my apologies, mademoiselle!" He turns around leaving her at the table. The waiter can't help but slightly bite his lower lip. Whatever was that,it was damn hot.

"Why are you smiling like an idiot,Sanji?" Patty,a muscular cook,with oversized forearms asks him.

"There's this beautiful beautiful lady sitting at the table 5!" Sanji makes a little dance out of excitement.

"Whatever. Just focus on the food." Patty easily gets angry, however he maintains his calm this time."We have a lot of people to feed. A marine ship stopped by. Those people are hella hungry"

Sanji takes a few moments to think about what Patty said. He realizes you were there for help. He realizes you're probably stressed out since your subordinates are starving. I'll cheer her up. I will bring her the tastiest food! I will sure impress her this way. He begins cooking. He chooses fresh ingredients for you. He pre-heats the oven so he will finish the steak faster. The blonde spreads the pepper,the salt and the garlic powder on the meat. He carefully adds the oil to get just the right amount. As for the salad,he isn't going to make anything easy.

You wait at the table thinking about your waiter. Maybe you were a little harsh on him. After all he is helping feeding you and your subordinates.

You sigh thinking about a way of returning him the favor. He was nice and trying to help,yet you were too frustrated to give him a nice smile.

Sanji brings the food to your table, waking you up from your overthinking. "Here's the food" He smiles once again.

"Right..." You look at him a bit ashamed by the way you behaved "Look,I am sorry. I have been really stressed and... I know I shouldn't have been so hard on you" The blonde lights up a cigarette. "Don't worry, mademoiselle. I don't get easily mad."

You're surprised by his patience. He works in a restaurant after all,he must have experience with rude clients. "Even so,I am really sorry. If there's anything I can do to-" He leans closer to you placing his finger on your lips.

"Shh. I said don't worry." You feel your cheeks burning. You nod,not being able to talk.

Sanji moves away his finger from your lips. "If you really want to do something to atone your mistake,you can come here again." He smiles giving you a little wink. "I'd love to see you here more often"

You finally realized what's happening to him. He has a crush on you. Unfortunately,you have always been lonely. You had no time for relationships since you were in the marine. "Sure" You smile back. You take a look at the food he just brought you. The way he carefully arranged the food makes the plate look bigger and tastier. You take a bite from the steak. "Oh! Wow!" Your taste buds are begging you to eat more.

Sanji sees your reaction and his eyes quickly filled with joy. "I love to see people enjoy my cooking. Especially you"

Your cheeks are burning again. You struggle to respond without stuttering. "My name's Y/N" You say hoping he doesn't see your red cheeks. Maybe changing the subject will help?

"What a lovely name." He grabs your hand kissing it gently."My name is Sanji" Of course he noticed how red your cheeks are,yet he seems to wonder how shy you can get.

You feel your heart beating faster. "N-nice to meet you..." You stammer out the response. As much as you try to focus on the food the only thing in your mind seems to be the man in front of you.

Sanji chuckles seeing you like this. He leaves you to eat your meal as he has to feed your subordinates too.

Soon enough,you visit him again and again. You find yourself seeing him almost everyday. You find yourself enjoying when he talks to you so passionately about cooking. You find his silly compliments heartwarming.

One day,you enter the Baratie, taking a seat at the usual table. Sanji knows this is the time you usually show up so he was there waiting. He comes up to you, with his usual bright smile "Hello! What can I do for you,my favorite client?" He asks excited to see you.

"Actually... I am not looking for anything to eat" You could see his expression changing from excitement to confusion. "When is your shift over? To maybe...test out my new ship?"

Sanji is surprised to hear you ask something like this."In 1-2 hours I am free."

"That's perfect!"

"Is this a date?" He couldn't contain his curiosity on this matter. He wants it to be a date. He has been craving your touch.

"I guess so" You smile feeling shy again. You get up from your table. "See you soon,Sanji." You walk away leaving Sanji burst out of excitement in the middle of the Baratie.

"Get back to work!" Zeff yells from the kitchen.

After Sanji finishes his shift,he waits for you at the Baratie, knowing you'll probably come pick him up. You show up in a small ship,one you purchased recently mostly for undercover missions. You invite him on your expensive ship. There is only one navigator that was instructed to not bother any of you.

The sea seems calm and serene. You two have the pleasure to see the sky's different shades of pink,orange and yellow of the sunset. The sun looks like it's about to fall asleep, leaving the moon to do it's job.

"What a beautiful sunset" Sanji remarks gazing at the sky."Yet,it doesn't compare to your mesmerizing beauty" He grabs your waist, pulling you closer to him. You blush hearing his compliment. You gaze into his beautiful eyes noticing the love for you overflowing from his gaze. He has so much love for you that he can't keep it for himself,he needs you to feel it,to feel it all. "May I steal a kiss?" He can't stop thinking about your lips. You don't reply,yet the answer is in your eyes and he sees it. As he leans closer to you,his warm breath caresses your face. Finally,his lips are against yours.

The sun rays are gently hugging your figures, warming you and Sanji just like the passion running through your bodies. You brush your fingertips on his left cheek.

[ragewerthers]

Heathen's Fantasy

Summary: Geto just wanted to enjoy some quiet time between classes. Gojo... wanted to share a fantasy. Authors note: Happy Halloween!!! I wanted to join in on the fun of tktober with the fantastic prompt list that @otomiyaa and @ticklygiggles created for this year! It's been forever and a day since I've written and I hope that I have done these two justice! I just want them to stay friends and be happy and not have all the other terrible, TERRIBLE things happen!!!!

This is for Day 30: Fantasy! Enjoy! :D

Word count: 1235

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

“Geto?”

“...“

“Suguru?”

“...”

“Suuuuguuuuruuuuu~”

Geto sighed deeply, looking up from the book he had been reading. They had decided to take a break in the small quad in the center of the Jujutsu campus, but apparently, ‘take a break’ meant something completely different in Gojo Satoru’s brain.

But then again, so many things did.

“What, Satoru?” he asked, holding his place in his book with his forefinger as he turned to look at the white haired menace he considered his boyfriend.  His boyfriend who had been trying for the better part of two minutes to try and get his attention for something that was more than likely ridiculous.

Gojo smiled brightly as he saw the man giving him his undivided attention…and then promptly turned away and gave a little shrug.  “No, no it’s fine.  I can tell you’re more interested in your book.  I can wait,” he replied flippantly, waving a dismissive hand as he leaned back against the  worn wooden bench they were sitting on.

Geto felt his eye twitch at that, opening his mouth and then closing it again almost as quickly.

No.

No, he was not going to fall into one of Gojo’s little traps.

Not today white-haired satan!

After taking a deep breath he gave a little shrug and turned back toward the story he had been trying to invest himself into.

He should’ve known better.

“It’s just that…,”

Geto had never felt the urge to scream more.

“... I did have a question, though I’m sure it wouldn’t interest you,” Gojo continued as if Geto wasn’t currently wondering who he had angered to have this man forced into his life.

Gojo turned to look at Suguru, his eyes flickering down for a moment to take in the poor book Geto was currently white-knuckling in his grip.

The smug grin that crossed his features was enough to make Geto feel feral.

“Oh?  Are you finally done reading?” Gojo asked innocently, as if he hadn’t orchestrated the whole thing.

Geto turned to glare at his partner.  “What is your question, Gojo?” he asked through gritted teeth, just wanting to get this whole back and forth over with so he could have some peace.

“Oh!  That’s right, my question!” Gojo said with excitement before scooting a little closer and wrapping an arm around Geto’s shoulders.  “Do you want to hear a fantasy of mine that I’ve had all day?”

Geto’s annoyance quickly turned to confusion.  “.... what?”

Gojo’s smile grew as he leaned in conspiratorially.  “Do you want to hear a fantasy of mine?  Something that’s been bothering me all day?”

Narrowing his eyes at the man to try and see if he could figure out a motive for this odd question, Geto found himself coming up short.  “You’ve been annoying me for the last five minutes… because you want to tell me a fantasy that popped into your head?”

Gojo nodded at that, giving the man’s shoulder a little shake.  “Yes!  Because it involves you!”

Geto felt his face instantly flush at that, his eyes widening as he realized that he was now even more uncertain about what this fantasy could entail.

“Oh?  I think that blush is more than enough of a sign that you want to know,” Gojo teased, ducking just that bit closer so that his lips barely touched Suguru’s ear.

“W-what are you going on about?” Geto asked, his throat feeling tight as he tried to hide the shake in his voice, uncertain where this particular train of thought was going and where they both might end up.

“It’s something I’ve been craving all day… something that has been on my mind since I saw that frown on your face this morning on the train.  The one that’s followed you all day from class to class,” Gojo whispered softly against him, making Geto shiver.  “My fantasy… is wanting to see you smile.”

Geto gave a little huff at that, shaking his head, but still feeling uneasy somehow.  “That fantasy has an easy answer then.  Stop bothering me-HEE!”  The unbidden shriek that escaped Geto was something even he could’ve never imagined.  Nor could the poor flock of birds that had been resting in a nearby tree as they all took flight after that chaotic noise.  Of course this was no thanks to the white-haired devil's hand that had snuck down to scribble against his lower ribs, even as his other arm stayed wrapped tight around him to keep him from running.

Gojo was more than amused at the events unfolding before him.  His eyes twinkled brightly even with their already ethereal glow.

“Oh ho?  You think that’s the only way, Suuuuguuuruuuu?” he sang lightly, quickly ducking down to nuzzle into the man's neck even as his hand continued to scribble and vibrate against those sensitive lower ribs.

Geto couldn’t suppress a ridiculous snort from escaping him as he tried to bunch up his shoulders to protect his neck.  Sadly, his poor book had to be sacrificed to the ground as his hands attempted to latch onto Gojo’s only to find he couldn't get a good hold of him.

“N-no fahahahair!” Geto cried out as he realized that even though he had tried, he had still managed to get caught up in a Gojo trap.  Merely of a different and more ticklish kind.

“Of course it’s fair!” Gojo teased as he blew a raspberry under Geto’s ear, making the man screech and kick out his legs, almost sending them both toppling from the bench.  “You’ve been a grump and ignoring me all day!  Why can’t I have the nice fantasy of making my boyfriend smile?!”

Gojo moved his hand to spider against Geto’s stomach, making the other man’s laughter kick up as he attempted to curl in on himself in defense.

“Nohohot thehehehere!  You heheheheathen!  Oh gahahahad!” Geto squeaked out through his laughter, his arms coming around to try and protect that weak spot only for his boyfriend to go back to tasing his lower ribs.  “WAHahahait!  I wahahasn’t ignoring you!  I w-wahas!  AH!  I was stuhuhudying, you dihihihick!”

“You were studying my what?!” Gojo pretended to mishear, chuckling when it made Geto laugh harder.

“Y-You heheheheard mehehehehe!  Stahp it!  Plehehehase!  Truhuhuce!”

In an instant the mini assault stopped and Geto found himself leaning heavily against his partner, residual laughter still escaping him as his heart fluttered in his chest.

“There we go.  Fantasy fulfilled,” Gojo cooed, ducking down to press a kiss to Geto’s hair, even as the man tiredly tried to swat him away.

“You… are a menace… and a heathen… of the highest ranking I have ever met,” Geto panted, glancing up to see Gojo narrowing his eyes with a pout.

“What other heathens have you been seeing?” Gojo asked and Geto snorted at the remark before sitting up with a soft smile on his face.

“None that have anything on you,” he promised, leaning in to peck a small kiss to his partner's lips, enjoying the small sigh it elicited from the other man.  “Now that you’ve fulfilled your fantasy, does this mean I can read in peace?”

Gojo brought a hand up to gently cup Geto’s cheek, his smile soft and fond.

“No.”

And soon enough the campus was once again filled with the unrestrained laughter of one Geto Suguru and the maniacal cackle of his beloved Gojo.

[disciple-of-owen]

The Southern Raiders: Some Thoughts

Ah, The Southern Raiders: that pivotal episode in which Zuko and Katara bury the hatchet, allowing our favorite Fire Prince to finally become a full-fledged Gaangster. Fans have expressed wildly different takes regarding this episode over the years, so I thought I’d toss in my two cents.

An important disclaimer before beginning: I am NOT anti-Zuko, and it is not my intention for this to be an anti-Zuko post. Having said that, I think it’s important to accept that Zuko’s redemption, magnificent as it is, does not expunge his character of defects. He remains a flawed person to the end of series, and I think much of his behavior in this particular episode is deserving of criticism.

Anyway, let’s start with the moment when Zuko announces to the Gaang that he and Katara are planning to track down her mother’s killer. Anything in quotes is from the show’s transcript, which belongs to Bryke, Nickelodeon, Paramount, and whoever the hell else has their hooks in Avatar at this point.

Aang: “Um… and what exactly do you think this is going to accomplish?”

An important thing to note here: Aang is not starting this conversation with an ‘I’ statement (I think, I feel, etc.). Instead, he is keeping the focus on Katara by asking her to elaborate on her thought process.

Katara: “Ugh. I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

A bit harsh, but Katara is experiencing a huge amount of emotional pain with the reopening of this wound. She is in no mood to be questioned (which is not to say that she shouldn’t be questioned) and that is valid.

Aang: “Wait, stop! I do understand. You’re feeling unbelievable pain and rage. How do you think I felt about the sandbenders when they stole Appa? How do you think I felt about the Fire Nation when I found out what happened to my people?”

Of all the moments that anti-Aang people disingenuously twist out of context, this is one of the most common. These individuals claim that Aang is belittling and dismissing Katara’s feelings by comparing the loss of her mother to the loss of Appa. This is a braindead take for three reasons:

Aang’s rage at the sandbenders wasn’t just about ‘losing Appa’. It was about being the sole survivor of a horrific genocide and losing the last piece he had of his people.

He puts Katara’s pain on the same level as the pain he feels regarding said genocide. If that isn’t taking her feelings seriously, I don’t know what the fuck is.

The whole reason he is making this comparison is not to determine whose trauma is greater, but to establish that he and Katara have common emotional ground upon which they can build a dialogue.

Zuko: “She needs this, Aang. This is about closure and justice.”

Frankly, I think it’s a bit audacious of Zuko to claim he knows what Katara needs when he’s been on normal speaking terms with her for a total of, what, 30 minutes? Still, I believe his heart is in the right place here.

Aang: “I don’t think so. I think it’s about getting revenge.”

And now, Aang voices his concern. Given how well Aang knows Katara, coupled with Zuko’s use of the word ‘justice’ regarding her mother’s killer, it is not at all unreasonable for him to assume that violent revenge might be on the cards. Katara immediately validates this assumption.

Katara: “Fine, maybe it is! Maybe that’s what I need! Maybe that’s what he deserves!”

I actually love this line; it’s not often that heroes in YA fantasies get to shed all pretense of morality and openly admit that base revenge is what they’re after. It makes Katara intensely believable in this episode.

Aang: “Katara, you sound like Jet.”

Aang reminds us of a vital lesson here: while it’s important to support your friends, it’s equally important to challenge them when you see them going down a potentially self-destructive path. That is what separates being a ride-or-die from being an enabler.

Katara: “It’s not the same! Jet attacked the innocent. This man, he’s a monster.”

Every word here is true, but the Gaang didn’t encounter Jet until he was many years into his unique brand of ‘freedom fighting’. Who’s to say he didn’t start out with Katara’s reasoning? Sokka seems to be thinking along these lines…

Sokka: “Katara, she was my mother too, but I think Aang might be right.”

Katara: “Then you didn’t love her the way I did!”

I have mixed feelings about this line. On the one hand, Katara is a child who has undergone immense trauma, and she has every right to express that. On the other, having trauma does not give you license to be cruel to others. There aren’t any easy answers here, which, again, is what makes Katara’s character especially fascinating in this episode.

Sokka: “Katara!”

Aang: “The monks used to say that revenge is like a two-headed rat viper. While you watch your enemy go down, you’re being poisoned yourself.”

Some might say this line is a bit preachy. Myself, I think Aang is speaking the way the monks taught him to in moments of conflict. Metaphors can be powerful tools for conveying meaning when regular words aren’t cutting through.

Zuko: “That’s cute, but this isn’t Air Temple pre-school. It’s the real world.”

And here we have a deeply problematic comment from Zuko.

Now before the torches and pitchforks come out, let me clarify: I do not think Zuko is an active bigot. At all. It is indisputable, however, that he was brought up in a racist, imperialist society. Let’s take a closer look at what he says here:

“That’s cute, but this isn’t Air Temple pre-school.” What we have here is an example of infantilization; Zuko is essentially calling one of the pillars of Air Nomad culture childish nonsense.

“It’s the real world.” Implying that the Air Nomads’ worldview is simple-minded and incompatible with the world as it is.

Now let’s compare Zuko’s words to what Ozai says to Aang in their final struggle.

Ozai: “You are weak! Just like the rest of your people! They did not deserve to exist in this world!”

“That’s cute,”

“You are weak!”

“It’s the real world.”

“They did not deserve to exist in this world!”

I repeat, I don’t think Zuko is being consciously racist here, and I am certainly not comparing him as a person to his father. What I AM saying is that both Zuko and Ozai were raised on the same diet of Fire Nation propaganda, and that this propaganda still colours Zuko’s worldview to some extent.

Katara: “Now that I know he’s out there… now that I know we can find him, I feel like I have no choice.”

Katara is effectively and honestly communicating her feelings here.

Aang: “Katara, you do have a choice: forgiveness.”

And Aang is seriously engaging with those feelings. Note: he isn’t saying that Katara has to forgive (he is perfectly content with her decision not to forgive Yon Rha at the episode’s conclusion); he is simply pointing out that she does, in fact, have a choice.

Zuko: “That’s the same as doing nothing!”

Not gonna lie, not a fan of Zuko in this moment. And if we ever needed proof that Aang is the more emotionally mature of the two, it comes with the next line.

Aang: “No, it isn’t. It’s easy to do nothing… but it’s hard to forgive.”

Some excellent wisdom, spoken from a place of experience.

Katara: “It’s not just hard. It’s impossible.”

Again, Katara expressing her truth. Again, totally valid.

I’m gonna skip ahead just a bit to when Aang and Sokka find Zuko and Katara preparing to steal Appa, as this is an important moment.

Katara: “Don’t try to stop us.”

Aang: “I wasn’t planning to. This is a journey you need to take. You need to face this man. But when you do, please don’t choose revenge. Let your anger out, and then let it go. Forgive him.”

Aang has expressed his concerns, but he has also listened to Katara and recognizes that this is something she needs to do. He provides the use of Appa and offers some final words of wisdom, which have a huge impact on Katara later in the episode.

Zuko: “Okay, we’ll be sure to do that, guru goody-goody.”

Wow. Just… wow.

Katara: “Thank you for understanding.”

We all know how the story goes from here: Katara and Zuko go on their quest, Katara continues to spiral into darkness, and when the big moment finally comes, she chooses not to lower herself to Yon Rha’s level.

So, to conclude:

Thoughts on Katara: People should give Katara a break. Sure, she’s kind of a jerk in this episode, but she is also 14(15?) and dealing with a lot. We can be critical of some of the specific language she uses, but we shouldn’t be critical of her expressing her trauma.

Another point worth noting: while Aang’s advice does play a role in Katara’s ultimate decision not to murder Yon Rha (as per Bryke’s own words), she isn’t just blindly following his recommendations. She spares her mother’s killer, but she does it on her own terms. Which is excellent.

Thoughts on Zuko: As mentioned previously, I do think Zuko’s desire to help Katara in this episode is genuine. Having said that, I also think his judgement is being clouded both by his projected feelings towards Ozai (his own Yon Rha) and a desire to get what he wants (in this case, Katara’s approval). If Katara’s well-being were truly his ultimate motivator, I don’t believe he would have been so dismissive of Aang’s concerns.

Though, to his credit, Zuko does acknowledge in the end that Aang had been right all along.

Thoughts on Aang: In the DVD commentary for this episode, the creators talk about how, in many ways, The Southern Raiders is actually a story about Aang and Katara; that Aang’s words are present with Katara throughout the episode as her shoulder angel, not judging her or telling her what to do, but helping her find her way through the darkness. This is a beautiful (yet realistically imperfect) moment in their relationship, and I am here for it.

[cjstheshethey]

I really wanna talk about Blue Beetle and why it's so important to me. SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT!

Ever since this movie was announced, I was excited because I have familiarized myself with the character of Jaime Reyes for over a decade now. My sister introduced to me to the character when we had our late night Young Justice marathons during a vacation in Mexico back in 2013. Eventually, we got to season 2, where Jaime was introduced. I remember when he would speak Spanish, I would say "Hey he speaks Spanish like us!" And sometimes my non-English speaking cousins would join us watching the show, and when he spoke Spanish, they were able to understand him. As time went on I kinda forgot about DC for a while since I was gaining other interests until Young Justice came back for its 3rd and 4th seasons(This is also your subtle sign that if you haven't watched Young Justice you should do that). Naturally, Jaime is still one of my favorite characters in the show. While I was still in my Young Justice hyperfixation, It was announced that a Blue Beetle movie was happening and even had some concept art shown. Me being the superhero loving Mexican nerd that I am, I was already hyped, and we hadn't even gotten a trailer yet. Then, on April 3rd of this year, the first trailer came out, and I was so excited. DC has been one of my special interests since literally as long as I can remember no joke one of the first shows I ever remember seeing was the original Teen Titans and so combine one of my special interests with one of the most important parts of my identity(my ethnicity) and an excuse to go to the movies? I was stoked. And so I finally saw it a couple of days ago, and I LOVED it. From the family dynamic to the music choices(La Chona in the beginning where Rudy was introduced was the most Mexican introduction ever and I love it.) and even a few references to Mexican culture I didn't expect, Blue Beetle was everything to me. Finally a movie centered around a Mexican family that wasn't afraid to go into topics like immigration and straight up racism towards Mexicans and those topics not taking up the whole story while also not stereotyping any of these characters and treating them like real people. These guys did their research, and it showed. During the part where Jaime comes back to Earth and starts saying something in Spanish, he's saying a prayer. I used to say that particular prayer a lot back when I was a kid, which is a good thing they added that in there because it makes relatable to someone like me. I really wanna make note of one of my favorite scenes from the movie. So after Jaime gets the Scarab and it attaches itself to him, he tries to find a way to get it off him. Once they go to Ted Kords' hidden lab and find out he can't get rid of it safely, he angerly walks out. His uncle Rudy follows him up to the roof. Rudy asks if Jaimes ok and Jaime apologizes for yelling at Rudy. Rudy then starts giving a really good talk about the family and how resilient they are. Then he says this. "I mean, look at your old man. He brought me here from Sonora....when I was 10." No joke, just ask @alextric-overload(Hey dude 😁) and my other friends who came with me, I legitimately gasped in that theater. Why? Because that's where my family is from. Never before did I ever imagine Sonora would even be mentioned in any media let alone a big screen superhero movie but I am so glad it was and I've said it before and I'll say it again: Never in my life have I felt so seen and so represented. The moment those credits rolled, I legit said word for word, "This! This is how you do representation. MORE. OF. THIS. PLEASE." This is why representation is so important because if we continue to make movies like this, more people like me can see themselves in media and feel the way I did. REPRESENTATION MATTERS! So please go support this movie if you haven't already, it's so worth it!

[journen]

Okay!! Because I'm not a huge fan of the format of long twitter threads, and this whole thing got kinda long 😅 I figured it could be best to post these story idea ramblings to Tumblr! So lol, prepare for some ramblings sabout my Ghost and Soap AU that's post MW2 campaign where Simon leaves the army to raise his nephew after his fam are killed.

This is all based off the au from this fic I wrote 🙈 if you want more context, you can find some here!

I just have a lot of ideas for this au and wanted to share some that I'll probably never be able to write, but yeah. Lmk if you guys have any thoughts! 😊

I guess TW too for: mentioned child injury, mentioned murder, references to Ghost's past from the comics. There's nothing graphic tho!

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

Price swears to Simon, in that hospital room a few days after the attack on Simon's fam, where Jo is lying injured and unconscious, but stable, that he will track down Roba and his men to get justice. He makes it a vow.

Theres not much development on the case for years tho. Maybe, after it initially happened, there was a brief investigation into it, but they ran into a lot of issues getting jurisdiction to operate in Mexico so the case went dry.

So, Simon has to learn to live with the fact that the people who did this to his family, and who tortured him, are still alive out there somewhere. But his nephew is his first priority, and he's accepted that too. He's not going to carelessly risk his life so he can't be there to raise his orphaned nephew in the name of revenge.

I don't think Simon, at this stage of his life, would be a violent revenge seeker? Perhaps if he is pushed too far, but let's not go there yet hahhaha.

Also, he's with Soap too, who helps ground him and keep him level headed.

Anyways, years later, Price calls Simon up, telling him of their update on the case. Maybe Roba has been located, and they only have a few day window to act. 

Price shows him the layout of the compound. Simon recognizes it. It's where he was kept captive for months all those years ago. Price offers that, if he wants, there's a spot on the squad for him. His Intel could be valuable. And he's cleared it with a lot of the other high ups to bring Simon along, or just didn't give them a choice, lol. (I have no idea if this would actually be possible irl, to have an SAS soldier who left the ranks, rejoin for a covert mission, but bare with me. Price can make it happen in this AU 🤣)

Simon has been out of active service for 5/6 years at this point though. And Price is asking him if he wants back in for one final op. Joseph is now around 10 years old maybe. He and Soap have been in a steady relationship for 5, Soap still serving in the military.

Anyways, cue big moment of Ghost picking up his old skull mask again. One he hasn't worn in 6 years. Holding the fabric brings back a lot of old memories for him. It feels heavy in his hands. He had changed so much since when he was the man who wore this mask...

but he still had it in him. He knew he did, deep down.

But did he want to *go* there, was he ready? Was it appropriate?

Would he be letting down Joseph though, if he agreed to this op?

What would Soap's feelings on the matter be?

But ultimately, Ghost agrees to it. I think he would need to take some time to consider it though. Maybe talk it through with the bf, Soap. But I think Simon would come to the conclusion that the team would be safest with him on the squad because of his existing knowledge of the compound. And he'd maybe feel safer being there himself, there to try to help the others if they run into trouble fighting his demons.

He does tell Price he has one condition about the op though, is that nobody dies. And he doesn't plan on dying either. He has to live for Joseph, and for Soap, too.

Jo is maybe 9 or 10 at this point. When Simon and Soap go away, I don't think Simon would tell Jo the real nature of his mission. He wouldn't lie to him, but the truth is a lot for a 10 year old to take in right? Maybe he says the mission is going to be scary, but that he's going to do his best to make sure they all make it back okay.

Maybe Joseph stays with one of Soap's sisters.

Ghost feels terrible to do this to Jo but he has to stop Roba from doing this again.

And blabkabla stuff happens and Simon makes it back okay tho yayyyyy 🤣