#goes to work the very same day as soon as he wakes up????

[marenwithanm]

Girl help I've become a trekie a few decades late.

[beenbaanbuun]

soft cuddles with ateez

park seonghwa

he’s sitting on the floor, very intensely reaching the instructions to his new lego set that you bought him

there’s no reaction when you sit next to him to watch as his pretty fingers attach the pieces to one another

it takes about 5 minutes for you to lean your head on his shoulder and snuggle your cheek into his shoulder

he chuckles lightly, but just carries on with his lego, not giving you the attention you so clearly crave

it takes another 5 minutes for you to get bored and try to move away but seonghwa won’t let you

he finally takes his attention away from his lego set when you lift your head and begin to stand up

with a discontented hum, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you straight into his lap

“and where do you think you’re going, hm?” he pressed a kiss to your cheek, “stay with me while i make this, yeah?”

you agree and rest your head on him once more, except this time, comforted by his warm cuddles

kim hongjoong

you get a text from seonghwa at around midnight asking you to go and rescue your boyfriend from the studio

you agree, feelings of excitement and annoyance bubbling up within you simultaneously

excitement because you get to see your boyfriend but annoyance because he was overworking himself… again

it takes 10 minutes to walk to his studio and by the time you get there, you just want some warmth

you walk straight up to his studio, bypassing the receptionist who knows you well at this point, and knock on the door

“the doors open!” he calls out, presumably not wanting to leave his desk for even a second, “oh, hey baby!” he smiles the moment he sees you

you don’t answer him simply ambling over to him and dropping onto his lap

he chuckles and holds you close before going back to his work, idly chit-chatting with you every so often

“your skin is cold, baby. did you walk here?” you nod in response, “you should’ve got a taxi! i’ll finish soon and then we can go home and get warm, okay?”

you fall asleep on his lap before he gets chance to take you home, and the two of you end up sleeping on the sofa in his studio

jeong yunho

he’s been gaming for what seems like hours and you miss him

yes, you might literally be on your bed, 2 metres away from his desk, but you miss him so bad!

and no matter how many times you call him over and beg him to pay attention to you, you just get the same response

“just one more game and then i’m all yours, honey!”

it was either a really long game, or it was all lies…

you eventually get tired of waiting and scramble out of bed on your tired legs

he doesn’t even flinch when you crawl onto his lap and wrap your limbs around him in a koala-esque fashion

in fact, the most reaction you get is a deep chuckle in your ear and a kiss to your cheek before he goes back to his game

it doesn’t take long for him to finish and say goodbye to whoever it was on the other side of his headset

he just wraps his long arms around your waist and the two of you sit in a comfortable silence on his gaming chair for a while…

kang yeosang

you’ve had a bad day at work and all you want to do is get home and sit on the couch with your boyfriend

you have so much to complain about and yeosang is such a good listener and feeling his arms around you as you complain would be the best right now

but you get home and yeosang is nowhere to be seen

in fact, the lights are turned off and the living room is completely silent

you sigh, realising your boyfriend must not be home yet, and kick your shoes off before carrying yourself to your bedroom

except when you get to your bedroom, you can’t help but notice a mop of bleached hair splayed across one of your pillows and a yeosang shaped lump under the quilt

you smile, but you don’t say a word as you crawl into bed beside him

he wakes up just enough to wrap his arms around you and pull you into his chest

he mumbles something that sounds kind of like, “how was your day?” but you can’t tell

“better now i’m with you,” you reply anyway

choi san

you’re only just awake by the time san comes back from the gym

you open your eyes to him in front of the mirror, checking his own progress as the sweat covering his skin glistens in the soft morning light

“pretty,” you mutter as you watch his muscles flex

he jumps in surprise and spins around to face you with a look of shock

“babe, i didn’t even know you were awake,” he smiles and you can’t help but get all giggly as his dimples show, “just give me a minute to shower and then i’ll come give you your morning cuddles, okay?”

normally you’d agree, but for some reason you’re feeling extra clingy

“come cuddle me now, sannie,” you say as you hold your arms out to him

“i’m sweaty, babe,” he chuckles, “i’ll get the sheets dirty

he gives in when you pout and look at him like you’re about to burst into tears if he doesn’t cuddle you

“sheets can be changed,” you say as he lays with half of his body on top of you, “this is more important right now…”

song mingi

it’s your day off and yet you’ve spent all of it bored inside of your apartment waiting for your boyfriend to get home from work

first it was supposed to be 1pm, then you get a text letting you know it’d probably be closer to 2pm, and then 3pm

its 6pm now, and you’re staring at the front door as if that’s going to make your boyfriend walk through it any quicker

as sad as it makes you that he’s not with you, you know it’s hardly his fault that works been busy recently

you finally turn away from the door with a sigh and lie down on the sofa

seconds later, you hear the lock click open and a tired sounding mingi announce himself

“i’m home, sweetheart,” he grunts as he kicks his shoes off and slams the door behind him, “sorry i’m l-”

he gets cut off with a grunt when you leap at him and attach your body to his in a tight hug

your thighs are tightly wrapped around his waist and your arms hold onto his neck for dear life

“hi, baby,” he chuckles into your hair, “missed me, did you?”

jung wooyoung

he’s sick and whilst you’re trying not to get sick yourself, there’s only so much whining you can put up with before it gets insufferable

it starts with him whining about the soup not being warm enough, so you give him a tight lipped grin before replacing it

then suddenly he’s cold and begging for more blankets so of course, you oblige before the sound of his aegyo drives you insane

after you bring back the blankets, he wants tucking in

you give him a look before doing as he asks all while he smirks at you

“somethings still missing, baby,” he pouts and points to his lips, “a kiss?”

“absolutely not,” you shake your head, “i’m not catching the black death just because you’re being whiny!”

“fine, but can you come and check my temperature?”

again, you oblige, but before you can even touch his forehead, he has a hand around your wrist and you’re toppling down onto the bed beside him

his vice-like grip suddenly finds its way around you and you suppose you just have to accept your fate and cuddle him back…

choi jongho

you haven’t felt great for a while but after an argument with a sibling and just an overall bad day, you decide to retreat to your bedroom with your boyfriends hoodie and a pint of icecream

he promised he’s be there once he finished eating with the rest of the guys, but you don’t know if you can wait that long so you send him a text

you don’t want to be a burden and make him think it’s too urgent, but you still want to make sure he knows you’re not feeling great, so it’s just something short and to the point

you don’t expect him too soon, but within 15 minutes you can hear the tell-tale sound of his spare key sliding into your front door

“i’m here, baby,” he calls as he shuts the door, “where are you?”

you don’t need to respond for him to know you’re in bed, and before you can get a word out he’s already poking his head around the door frame

he gives you a sympathetic pout as he sees your red-ringed eyes and quickly sheds himself of his more sophisticated clothing as he can be comfy as he crawls in beside you

his bare arms wrap around your waist and he brings you as close as humanly possible to his chest

“you don’t have to tell me what’s wrong,” he whispers as he pets the back of your head, “but just know that i’m here to listen if you ever want to.”

perhaps tomorrow, you decide as you nuzzle into his neck and let his strong form swaddle you

[workingbynyx]

Hi! I was wondering if you'd be interested in writing headcanons of Jason Todd as the reader's boyfriend? Probably like the general dynamic of the relationship, love language, etc. Whatever you think goes best! :)

of course! i can finally use my hcs of boyfie jason to good use oml i have so much in store for you loves 😚

(this has been sitting in my drafts for so long and now that its almost v-day i think its pretty fitting to post this <3 also pls remember that these are my personal hcs so some may be entirely ooc but this is how i imagine him to be okay 😭)

Very affectionate behind closed doors

Jason wasn't a very clingy person to begin with. in fact the first time you held hands you swore you saw drops of sweat drip down the side of his face, it's hilarious. it took him a while to get around giving physical affection but once he did, hugs and kisses are non-stop. he'll either give you quick or aggressive but gentle kisses or would simply ask you to climb onto him on your shared bed and lay your head on his chest as he sleeps. he'd search for your hand and give it a squeeze when the both of you are in a big crowd (ex; galas, parties) or just rest his hand on the small of your back— as intimidating he might seem, he's just a big baby in your hands.

A pretty decent cook, to say the least

Could be an unpopular opinion but i'd say Jason isn't all too bad in the kitchen, he can pretty much fix up a simple meal if he wants to. The man could either fuck up the microwave or invent a whole new recipe just to fit your cravings, there's no in between. He doesn't want to admit it but he has a secret folder in his phone of all the recipes to your favourite dishes from lunch meals to deserts; so now on every occassion, you can expect waking up to the fresh scent of your favourite food set on the table <3

Midnight joyrides are the best

Do y'all know those tiktok accs that own a motorbike and just drive around with their partners sitting behind them? That's exactly how i imagine what it would be like to be Jason's partner 👊👊 literally like; "bubs put on your helmet" "are we going out? at this time?" "what, you don't want to?" "well, yeah i do..." "good, i'll have the bike out front then" then you guys just drive around on his bigass bike zooming through the city. He'd also have his hands run down your leg that's straddling him from behind at every stoplight possible wkehwjhejwhd

Getting out of bed is almost impossible

The first time you two moved in together was really exciting, waking up finding yourself beside the love of your life sleeping peacefully to eating breakfast and dinner with them too. But as time went by, it became almost your mission everyday to get out of bed without being held back by Jason pulling you back under the sheets. You'd have to be sneaky to move his arm that's wrapped around your waist before his reflexes react soon enough; "mmh, going somewhere?" "jay, i gotta get to work" "10 more minutes love, i promise. I'll just drive you there it's much faster" "you said that 5 minutes ago— i'll be late again!" "are you saying you'd rather leave me alone?" "jace i–" "mhm exactly, so stay a'ight? you could just tell them you caught that flu" "i already did...two days ago..."

Absolutely adores your eyes, hands and waist

I'm a firm believer that Jason is a certified waist-grabber !!! you can expect the rough tips of his gloves glide over from your back all the way to your waist once he comes home from work. He also looooves looking into your eyes and see his reflection in them, the same eyes that showed nothing but pure love and kindness to him. And he also likes your hands; the size difference when you compare them, how they wrapped around his own, and how they cling onto him every chance you get. He thinks it's such a cute mannerism (if you have them too)

He asks for fashion advice, sometimes

Jason'll probably throw on a shirt, jacket, pants and boots then call it day before he met you— but he's even conscious of how colors looked on him now. You were his stylist, often picking out clothes and giving him new looks that you think looks best on him just because he once saw a photo of him and thought the shirt and pants he had didn't match at all. Jason always thought clothes only consists of hoodies, sweatpants, shirts, but now even knows what 'preppy' clothing is after you explained it to him.

His love language is words of affirmation and physical touch

This may vary to some people but i do hc Jason's love language to be words of affirmation and physical touch. Words of affirmation; only because he absolutely loves it when he tells you what he genuinely thinks of you at the moment. "You look great in red", "i'm proud of what you did there", "i love you, y'know that right?", "you look so gorgeous, i'm lucky to have you" and physical touch; because he's totally convinced he can't live without you by his side. Jason would want to be next or near you at any given chance, he'll have you scooted beside him while he reads a book or gently rub his hand against your thigh when he's focused on a movie. Your presence alone gives him the comfort he's always longing for in nights that he's away from home, and you'd glady give it to him.

Very protective over you

It's probably a known fact that Jason is a protective person but when it comes to you he can be over the top in making sure you're okay (especially when you're also a vigilante/hero working with him.) You'll always have to assure him that you're fine and not bleeding to death with a papercut or when you accidentlly stub your toe against the bed. But when you're also a crime-fighter like him, best believe he'll always have you stay and guarded behind him. You had to explain so many times that you could also take care of yourself like he can, though it's understandable why he acts that way most of the time.

Acts all tough, but melts when you're around

Around the times when Jason still had a lil crush on you, he'd never let his guard down and likes to appear cold or tough. But once you were dating he's an absolute shy babe even with the smallest gestures or compliments you give him. He'd only crack a smile at the side comments you make but is mentally falling apart. Or when he can't keep up the act he simply dips his head in the corner of your neck and stay there til he stops blushing like a teen getting his first kiss.

Is a part of the sassy man apocalypse

Sometimes, you question if this man is simply your bestfriend or your boyfriend of how many years. The amount of bickering the two of you end up having is like watching two friends fight over peanut butter vs chocolate. You'd suggest a book you've been reading that he absolutely despises and have a debate right there and then. It's almost like that one Friends scene when Joey and Rachel were giving spoilers back to back at each other LMAO. The man also has an unhealthy habit of popping a hip whenever he stands, your gallery would probably be filled with pictures of him in that stance alone.

[diorcities]

⠀   ⠀ ── 𖥻 ๋ 𓈒 ⭐ ࣪ ࣭ ◍ ᜔ being a sleepy head !

nct dream fluff headcanon.

jaemin. at midnight, the sheets tangle on your limbs as his fingers run down your spine in a deliberate gesture. your tongue tangles in your palate and feels heavy as you talk about trivial things while he listens patiently. smiling sweetly when you can't follow the thread of your thoughts at the speed you desire, and your eyes look one last glimpse into his loving eyes before plunging you into a deep sleep. your body is covered by a blanket and you barely hear his voice saying “let's meet again in your dreams.” warming the place where your heart rests.

haechan. he is a night person. even with his schedules, he usually has more sleep resistance than you. you've both put on a series that you've been wanting to watch together, and since I this moments don't happen very often, you plan to spend the whole day curled up next to him. his body is so warm, and his grip comforting, that you soon decide to leave him to go to the ethereal world of dreams. and among the semi-unconsciousness, you think you feel his laugh poking you, “unbelievable, why you choose that boring movie if you were going to fall asleep?” just feeling your body being gently drawn to his “i'll tell you how the movie ends in the morning.”

jisung. the different time zones had your internal clock pretty damaged and crazy, to the point where you slept all afternoon and were more than awake at night. therefore, your night endurance is greater than jisung's. even on his day off, the poor boy does nothing but sleep. silence settles in the room when you know he's not listening to you anymore, hearing to the slight snoring of the boy with the cold nose on your neck, feeling him stir between dreams, “oh- fuck,” he murmurs, nuzzling his face, “did i fall asleep?” he asks. “pretty much, yeah.” you hear his muffled laugh, but deep down it makes you happy that he rests properly, especially when you know his workday. his only response is get closer to you. “keep talking, i swear i won't fall asleep this time.” quick spoiler: he did.

mark. it is a habit to put on a film and not pay attention to it while talking and using it as background noise. both of you have fairly tight schedules, and believe it is possible to do everything at the same time, such as ordering food delivery and chatting while watching a movie. but honestly, you are so exhausted, that the film takes a back seat while you both have your intimate moment full of kisses and caresses. it's impossible not to fall asleep for both of you. and even in the limbo of dreams, you're there with him, and he's talking to you while he sleeps, “i love you.”

renjun. he does not usually rest for long, and many times (only when you are aware that he is not by your side sleeping) you see him at his desk writing new entries in his diary, or painting with his watercolors. you are aware, too, that he does that when he is very overwhelmed or overloaded with things. and even when he goes back to bed the moment you notice his absence and wake up, or call his name, you worry that he's keeping him hidden from you; the way he uses art to release all the weight that keep him awake. “you scared me,” he pronounces shyly when you approach him and rest your head on his shoulder, “i woke you up? forgive me...” he stops his word when you shake your head, “should we go to bed, then?” he wonders, but again, you deny. “finish this first, love.” you smile tenderly, snuggling into him as he returns to his drawing: somewhat kind of similar to you.

chenle. having a tight schedule makes it difficult to see chenle often. you never seem to coincide because you leave first thing in the morning and when you arrive exhausted to sleep, chenle returns until late at night. he scolds you on occasion when you insist on staying up even when you both know that means you'll feel sleepy at work. in the end, he lets you do what you want, because deep down, he misses your long chats before going to bed. “so... one of my... coworkers said...” your eyelids close on their own, you swear by your life. and your tongue feels so heavy, but you must keep going, because seriously, seriously it's funny, “have you- seen my... sandwich?... and i said..., it's in...” chenle waits for the punchline while he strokes your hair, but it never comes, so with a amused smile dancing on his lips, he turns off the lamp. “your mouth?” he wonders at the ceiling, widening his eyes, “the toilets?”

jeno. the letters change places when you look at them for a long time. you blink, your eyelids heavy linger towards the empty coffee cup next to your notes; your attempt to do an all-nighter has been unsuccessful as you feel the sleep spell take control of your body. “come, darling,” seems to whisper sandman in your ear. as you are in the limbo between the two universes, your body seems to float and be welcomed by his warm embrace, followed by the gentle movement that lullies you back when jeno takes you to his room.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Gojo's daughter insisting on him brushing her hair because he's so gentle

Pairing: Gojo x wife!reader

Word Count: 840

Synopsis: You are pretty suprised when your daughter insists on your husband brushing her hair depite the fact that this is normally your job. Until you find out why...

Warnings: I just have a soft spot for Gojo okay, I swear I already started writing the promised Geto fic, fluff over fluff over fluff, a little bit of dirty talk hehe

„Come on angel, let’s get you ready for bed.”

There you stand, wearing your most comfy pyjama while leaning against the doorframe looking so delicately that Satoru has to look twice. Are you really his wife, the mother of his precious daughter who supports him like no one else? He has to be the luckiest man walking on earth.

“Are you getting me ready for bed as well?”

That bastard, he knows exactly what he’s doing. Your beloved husband pulls up his blindfold enough for you to see the unpromising dark glimmer in his bright blue orbs, the way he sits on your couch with your daughter lounging against his arm making you feel weak all over again. There aren’t many things in the world that drive you insane like he does.

Well, to be honest, absolutely nothing has the same effect on you as him.

You shake your head. Enough of that. Weren’t you here to get your little daughter into bed?

“Let’s get going”, you ask your daughter again, desperately trying to ignore the way Satoru’s eyes seem to be all over you.

Why can’t he wait until you brushed her hair and get her into bed? All those things might seem innocent to her, but you know all too well what is going on inside his beautiful dirty head.

“No!”

Wait…What? You blink a few times in sheer confusion, even Satoru staring at your daughter in disbelief. Why did that sound so energetic? After all, you just want to brush her hair like you do every evening.

“Why, honey? If we don’t brush it, you will get horrible painful knots tomorrow morning and we both don’t want that.”

She avoids your gaze at any cost and buries herself in Satoru’s black shirt. What’s the matter? It’s not like your husband brushed her hair yesterday as well. She never complained about this process once, even seemed to enjoy it from time to time. What is wrong this evening?

“I want daddy to brush my hair. He’s more gentle”, she finally mutters.

Oh. You stare at her with widen eyes, too stunned to speak for a moment. “More gentle”? Is she really talking about her father? The man who kills curses without even blinking, who will grab your very own hair roughly as soon as she’s sound asleep? You can’t contain your amusement, throwing the brush towards your also bamboozled husband.

“Absolutely no problem, angel. I’ll go and grab you something to drink for tonight, okay? Good luck, loverboy.”

With one last entertained smile at Satoru and your daughter positioning herself between his legs, you make your way to the kitchen. Did you see Satoru doing her hair once? Now that you think of it, you can’t even remember seeing him brush her hair. He’s often still at work when she goes to bed and already gone when she wakes up in the morning which leaves all those things to you. Very much to his disliking as it seemed.

“No, let me do that. I want to brush her hair this evening.”

“You…? Did you ever brush long hair, Satoru?”

“Sure, can’t be that hard-“

“Wait, please don’t use your comb on her hair. You need a brush for that.”

“So…What’s even the difference?”

You can’t help but chuckle to yourself, the look of distress on his gorgeous face when you explained him the difference between a comb and a brush still not leaving your mind. But still…what did your daughter mean when she said he’s gentle? Your eyes peak into the living room where your daughter chuckles with her father. Well, a little glance can’t hurt, right?

“So how was your day, honey?”

“I won a race today!”

“What!? Tell me everything about it!”

Your feet carry you as muted as possible to the wide opened door, feeling like a burglar as you’re on your way to stalk the two of them.

“I was in last place but-“

You can’t listen anymore, eyes fixated on the scene laying itself out in front of you. Your daughter sits between his legs with her head laid back while Satoru strokes her hair so gently and sedately that it looks like a massage. Over and over, he caresses her scalp, strokes it with his fingers, looks at her with so much love in his eyes that you are forced to supress a sniff. Oh, her hair is definitely brushed out already. But still he keeps going, listening to every word she says while leaving a little comment here and there.

“Mommy, are you spying on us?”

Instantly his gleaming eyes dart towards you, amusement filling his expression.

“I’m being gentle, ya see?”

“You definitely are”, you reply entertained while your daughter leaves his lap in order to get into bed with you.

“You’re never that gentle with my hair, though”, you whisper into his ear, grabbing for the brush between his legs.

“Oh, I’m gonna take good care of your hair when your back, babe”, he mumbles against your ear.

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz@darkstarlight82 @satoreo @tachiharazsstuff @kentocalls @cheesemachine44 @ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299 @busyreader17 @okay-it-is-ivy @starlightanyaaa

[myanmy]

Time - Rick Grimes

I’m obsessed with Rick so much, it’s actually embarrassing.

Summary: You just got to Alexandria and are settling in, however Rick seems to have forgotten he has a girlfriend.

Warnings: None

Word count: 1707

Rick is the leader, Rick is the man who everyone needs help from and when you started dating him you already knew that he was a very busy man. At first it was all perfect, even after long hours of working, eventually he would come to you and you would spend the night together. When he was too tired you would cradle him in your arms and whispers comforting words in his ears, when he wasn’t too tired you two would spend a few hours loving each other, both sweating and pleasuring one another and at the end of it all, shower together while exchanging a few touches here and there. However that slowly started to change, Alexandria was a good place, a perfect place some would say, but to you it wasn’t. 

When you were out there you were forced to stay close to your group for obvious reasons, consequently spending the whole day and night with Rick. You didn’t miss the fear or the need to have to pay attention to every little noise, but you did miss Rick, you missed him a lot. Since a few days Rick has been gone a lot more than usual for a reason that you hadn’t bothered yourself to know. Slowly you started to become tired, tired of all the waiting, tired of the need of affection and while you obviously understood him being busy, you also saw how on the times that he was “free” he was talking to the new people. You had tried talking about it to him and he explained that we needed to blend in, make friends here and you didn’t completely disagree, you just wanted some godforsaken attention.

It was almost 3:00 am when you heard the front door opening, usually you would be asleep at this time, but the worry was just too much, instead you decided to close your eyes and pretend to be asleep. Soon enough you heard the door of the room opening too, you lay with your back to the door, preventing him from seeing your face. You hear the quiet steps he takes and then feel a light kiss on the top of your hair, making you almost feel bad for the plan you’re going to put to action tomorrow. 

You’re not surprised when you wake up to the side of the bed empty, at the same time that you’re angry you’re also hurt. Putting yourself together you leave the house, seeing people walking and smiling, you however didn’t do a very good job at pulling a smile on yours.

“Hey, are you alright?” Carol asks. You were so out of it that you hadn’t even noticed her walking towards you.

“Yeah…” You answered with a lot less certainty that you meant to and Carol had noticed it too, giving you a look that she knew you were lying. “No, I’m not fine.” You started walking with Carol while you explained the situation. She didn’t say a word, only listening to you renting. After walking for a few blocks you see Rick talking with Deanna, he sees you and a smile appears on his face, one that would make you melt you immediately, but you fought against it, instead looking in the other direction, ignoring him completely. 

“Oh, never saw you doing that.” Carol says, having noticed the situation.

“I’m just giving him a taste of his own medicine, let’s see how he likes it when I come home at 03:00 am in the morning.” You answer, telling yourself that you would do it no matter what.

“And where do you plan on staying until then?” She asks, somehow already imagining what you were about to say.

“At your place.” You say, this time putting a big smile on your face, trying to convince her.

“Oh no, no way. While I do love you I do not want to get caught up on this.” She says, crushing your hopes.

“Please.” You beg and she shakes her head. You sigh out of frustration, but ultimately start thinking about the other people in your group and your mind immediately goes to Maggie and Glenn.

“Why don’t you try talking with him? You know Rick, he had this need to always do everything, but he loves you, he’ll listen to you.” She says in a last attempt.

“Trust me I tried, he said he’s just trying to make friends and blend in, but while doing so I’m starting to feel forgotten. I mean, I know Rick would never cheat on me or anything like that, but coming home at 03:00 am? If tonight when I come home that late and he says nothing about it, then I’ll stop, but if as soon as I get there he starts talking shit then he’ll get what’s coming for him.” You vowed and after saying goodbye to Carol you went on with your day, making sure to take a lot longer at your tasks than you normally would, that way you avoided seeing Rick the whole day. Luckily Maggie and Glenn didn’t argue too much or asked a lot of questions when you said you needed to stay at their place until late. They went to sleep while you sat on the couch trying to focus on a book to pass time, but failing ultimately. Eventually you gave up and just laid on the couch, staring at the ceiling. Slowly you felt sleep creeping up on you, but you fought against it. You wanted to make Rick mad, not think that you had died. 

Eventually you saw the clock approaching 03:00 am and you decided that it was time. You left Maggie and Glenn’s house, making sure you closed the door slowly to not make any noise. After walking a bit in the fresh air of the night, you arrived at your house. The lights of the living room were on, letting you know that he was there. Nerves started rising and your heartbeat grew faster as you tried telling yourself to breathe and act like this was totally normal, just like he did.

When you entered the house you saw him with his head down while sitting on the couch. “Hey honey.” You voiced when he looked up at the sound of the door,

“Hey honey, is that what you have to say to me? Where were you?” He asks while standing up before walking closer to you,

“Out, solving some things.” You answered with the same words he had once.

“Do you know what time it is?” 

“Yeah, so?” You say with the most innocent voice possible, acting like you didn’t understand why he was so concerned.

Rick chuckles. “You’re not serious, are you?” 

“I don’t understand why you are so mad, I mean, you come home at this time almost every day. What is wrong with me doing it?”

He scoffs. “So this is what this is about? What type of game are you playing?”

“I’m not playing any game Rick, I just happen to come home late.” You kept on acting confused. 

“I thought-” He starts to yell, but lowers his voice remembering that Carl and Judith were asleep upstairs. “I thought something happened to you.”

“Now you know how I feel every night.” You muttered while walking past him, walking towards the bedroom.

He closes the door after following you into the room. “You know why I get home late.”

“I do and yet it doesn't make it any better. I understand you talking to them and doing whatever you do, but it seems like you just forgot about me. You make time for your children, which you obviously should, but what about me?” You try to fight the tears from coming to your eyes, but fail. Part of you felt childish for feeling this way, but you couldn’t help it. “When I go to sleep you’re not here and when I wake up you’re not here either, when I see you around the day you’re always talking to someone or doing something. The only way I know you even came to bed is the crumpled pillow.”

Rick sighs, running his hand through his hair, his fingers digging into the roots. “I-” He cuts himself off, looking for words. “I’ll try to do better, there’s just so much going on and I just want this to work.”

“I understand that. I want this to work too, but the rate you’re going is not going to Rick. I mean, look at you, you are tired, exhausted even. You’re the first to wake up and the last to go to sleep. You’re destroying yourself and on the way destroying this-” You say, pointing at you two.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.” He pressed his hand to his eyes, looking like he was about to fall asleep right there.

“Go take a shower and then come to bed, you need rest.” You suggested and with a nod of his head he went to the bathroom. You had already taken a shower at Maggie’s luckily, so you just changed and lay down on the bed, waiting for him. Your eyes were almost closing when you heard the shower turn off. Rick walks in wearing only his boxers, his expression apologetic. While you had swore to yourself that you’d be a little tougher with him, you couldn't help but feel bad and worried by his lack of sleep. So you extend your arms and part your legs, waiting for him to crawl on top of you and bury his face into your neck like many times and that’s exactly what he does.

“I’m sorry baby.” He whispers into the crook of your neck, his breathing tingly. Instead of answering you bury your face into his still slightly wet hair and kiss him there. “Don’t worry me like that again please, I was so scared.”

“Only if you promise me too.” You answer while caressing his back.

“I promise.” He vows and you do the same. “I love you.”

You wait to hear his breathing slow, knowing that he was almost asleep. “I love you.” You whisper, falling asleep to his calm breathing and the feeling of him in your arms again.

[grimmylilsunshine]

Grim/Casper x GN!Reader

Warnings: None, just fluff and silliness.

❤️💀 Morning Routines 🌻❤️

Some headcanons on how mornings usually go while living with Casper now in the world of the living. lol

Reader isn't a morning person or first to wake up:

If you're not a morning person, Casper is the first to wake up and prepare breakfast for you. He'll make it his job to make sure you eat properly every day. Whether you like it or not. (tough love, my loves lol)

Then he'll try to coax you out of bed finally with sweet words and kisses. But if that fails, expect him to just pull off the covers and open the curtains to make the sun hit you directly.

If that that still doesn't work, he'll just give up and let you sleep a little longer. Though will be running his fingers through your hair and lightly caressing your face. Just watching you sleep a bit, while feeling grateful he took the risk of not taking your soul after all.

Reader is a morning person and is first to wake up:

If you happen to be a morning person and wake up easily/first, then you might struggle getting out of bed because of Casper.

He'll very often now be clinging to you in his sleep. Using you as his new cuddle buddy to sleep with, but sometimes Azrael(his plush) is between you and him. (He might say Azrael NEEDS to be in bed with you both. Else he'll be sad lol)

He might complain, even threaten you if you try to leave bed and his side. You might have to just fight for freedom, or give in and sleep a little longer with him until your second alarm goes off. That wakes both of you up finally.

There might be times you do sneak out of bed however, only because you replaced yourself with Azrael. Maybe it'll work too well, by how he just snuggles more into him, and mutter out "I love how soft you feel~..." before falling into a deep sleep again.

Same after routines for either above options:

Skin care is a HUGE MUST for Casper now. He'll spend a long time(hour or so) getting himself ready for the day, even if he might not go out. And drag you into this routine of his too...(Especially if you just use soap and water as your skin care routine.)

If you complain, or try to fight back. He'll try to offer you something as a reward if you obey him this one time today, and for being a good mortal again. (kisses, a date, whatever your heart desires...He might regret this later though if your desire is huge. pff)

Usually Casper does his own hair, but he'll let you brush it and style it however you like now. (If it's not too wild on style that is to the point he says "No, Sunshine.")

And he'll do the same in return for you. But if he sees your hair is damaged, or in need of much care from not being taken care of. Expect hair care to be added to the skin care routine now.

It started off with one plant, but soon enough you practically have a little garden in your place now. Which Casper and you both take care and raise of together. You both make it a ritual now to tend to them every morning. (closest thing to a soul baby right now lol)

If you don't go out to work for that day, or it's just a day off in general. You two will often go on a morning stroll out together. Either to a park, a little coffee shop, public gardens people can visit, etc. Just going out together to make memories with you is a huge must now for Casper. (Bonus: Up to you if you take pictures together and make a little photo album or such if you want.)

This could happen before or after your possible morning date together, but most chores around the house are done early than later. Whether you like to do them or not, Casper will try to keep the place looking clean and in order for the both of you.

[fanaticsnail]

I always am in awe and in love with your writing and wanted your thoughts on this. What do you think of the aloof Mihawk with an apprentice that he isn’t that close too. He still is protective, but doesn’t think much until he notices that the apprentice is getting weaker and assumes they are slacking. He tears into them about being lazy and goes to leave only to hear them collapse with the Hanahaki disease. 🫣

Hanahaki: The Hawk and the Fledgling

Hanahaki: a disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love.

Masterlist here. Part 2 here.

Word Count: 1,466

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you, Anon. I hope I fulfilled your request well. I am very new to the concept, so I have drawn this up as a drabble rather than a fully-fledged fic.

Song Accompaniment: Luminary

“Pick up the pace, Fledgling,” Mihawk directed you, his drawl laced in boredom and indifference, “try to at least be better than you were yesterday. You’re growing slack or, dare I say, lazy.”

It had been this way for the past three years. You had initially sought out the mighty Dracule Mihawk, warlord and world’s greatest swordsman, to train you to become an expert in skilled swordcraft. Initially, he refused your request; shutting the door in your face as soon as you uttered a simple: “Lord Mihawk, I have come to humbly request-.”

His eyes bore an intensity, an aloofness and disinterest about them. The honey-colour irises within the darker rings indicated he was exactly the strength you needed to train under to become an expert in your field. As soon as your gaze was halted by the large wooden door, the large brass handle swinging to nearly hit you; you became resolved in not moving from your place atop his staircase until he was willing to take you in.

He made you wait seven days. Your body was overcome with exhaustion, dehydration and malnourishment when he finally stepped aside to welcome you within his darkened and gloomy halls to await further instruction.

Your training began by vigorous routine: waking, eating, training, sleeping – all with the broody swordsman lording over you; criticising every aspect of your routine. Your apprenticeship was joined alongside the demon and bounty hunter: Roronoa Zoro. He was an amazing peer; his strength and agility was akin to your own, alongside his mantra to become stronger than the person he was yesterday. Mihawk paid you and Zoro the same amount of attention, his ward: Perona, also offering you guidance and comradery with her unwavering support.

“You slept in, Fledgling,” the warlord would utter, flicking the back of his newspaper to straighten the pages. He did not look up to acknowledge your presence in the slightest, opting to raise a glass of red wine to his lips instead.

“No protein with your breakfast? You’ll never achieve your goals by living on simply bread – I don’t care if Perona informs you otherwise,” he would utter, brushing past you to reach high up on the kitchen shelf and thrusting the jar into your hands, “at least balance it out with almonds or pumpkin seeds, Fledgling.”

“Sloppy,” he would comment, gesturing to a particular maneuver you were working with against your peer, Roronoa Zoro, “pick your feet up, Fledgling. Rabbit, aim for their calves to make them move.”

Each jab, taunt and criticism had your resolve to train harder and stronger more cemented within your chest: a chest that became weighed down with a feeling of suffocating tightness. The brush of a correcting hand, the whisper of his shoulder on his way past you, the feeling of his guidance on your lower back throughout the halls had your heart bound within vines.

Fighting the feeling with furrowed brows and clenched jaws, you pinned it as anxiety under the hard traineeship you sought with this undertaking with the swordsman. You thought you had trained yourself too hard: coughing uncontrollably, clutching your chest to relieve you of the tight feeling that followed with a spatter of blood falling from your parted lips into your palm. A trickle of saliva connected your lips to the pool within the creases of your hand: a small petal white and pure going unnoticed within your outstretched palm.

You strengthened your resolve, opting to train harder to break yourself from the weakness you were experiencing. You chose not to inform neither Perona, Zoro nor your boss Dracule Mihawk of the overexertion you were sure you were suffering.

Battling with Zoro became harder and more difficult with the amount of exhaustion you found yourself overcome with. The feeling never ceased, and appeared to be becoming worse the more your eyes met with the disapproving gaze of your mentor. Mihawk would shake his head and look away from your stance in disappointment, opting to praise Zoro for his ability to take down someone akin to you.

It was not until you felt the feeling overcome your chest completely that you collapsed under the pressure of your heart. The feeling of overexertion was too much. The passion was too much. The love?

Love.

You were in love.

You were in love with Dracule Mihawk.

A man you knew you could never have.

His gentle touches: firm enough to guide you, soft enough for it to be a suggestion rather than an order. The way his eyes would linger, unblinking and harsh. There was no softness, only correction and disinterest. He was not interested in you, not in the slightest - that was a fact you were certain of. A man of his stature had no awareness, desire, or need for something as simple as romance or love.

Collapsing within the vineyard, drawing your hand up to your mouth and coughing under the uncomfortable weight within your heart; your eyes rose to the feathered hat atop the warlord in front of you, wide and frantic.

“Lazy again, Fledgling?” he uttered, turning to face you along the clay row of the cascading vines, “and here I thought-.”

His words were cut short, his eyes widening at your form and brows immediately rising. Hunching your back over, you hung your head as a fit of uncontrollable coughs overcame your body in a fit of wheezed breaths. The vocal chords within your throat stung within the chasms of your oesophagus, a trail of white petals once again falling to your palm under your coughs. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes at the pain you were experiencing, looking in horror towards your mentor.

“What is-,” he began, turning in his sprint to join you at your side, “-what is wrong with you?”

Drawing his right arm to collect your shoulders, he embraced you against his chest as you continued to struggle to gulp down breaths of air to fill your lungs. Utilizing his left hand, he withdrew your hand from your lips and stared his amber eyes down to your palm.

“Hanahaki,” he whispered in a low growl. His teeth clenched tight against each other at the thought of the disease overtaking your form. His honey-coloured gaze scanned over your body, staring at the risen veins like vines rising in a trail from your heart to your clavicle as his breath hitched in a light hiss.

Releasing your hand from his left, he laced his left arm beneath your body and thrust himself upwards to cradle you against himself. His embrace was strong, his support of your respiratory system within his arms relieved some of the tension falling from your heart in waves of caged interwoven vines.

Blurred sentences falling from his lips, your ears nor eyes are able to focus on a single word uttered.

“-How long-.”

“-When did-.”

"-Fledgling-."

“-You didn’t say-.”

“Let’s-... -a doctor.”

You felt your body be placed onto a firm, wooden surface. Your chest felt weighed down by the amount of earthy and binding roots you felt entrapped by. Your jaw ached with how hard you had clasped your teeth shut to halt the release of more petals. Pure, white and teasing was the nature of the flowers falling from between your parted mouth. The ache never ceased within your chest the longer your mentor remained with you.

Your dizzying mind only regained focus at the next utterances falling from the lips of your mentor.

“I will send for the green-haired rabbit. Perhaps I can persuade him of the charm you hold and convince him to fall for you,” he took a long breath inwards and uttered in a tone just above a whisper, “if you can convince someone as hardened as I am wordlessly to harbor affection for you, the brat should have no such trouble.”

He exited the room, the wooden door to the kitchen swinging behind him in a slow, creaked ‘click’ as it met its handle against the brass latch. Immediately, you felt your heart began to release the tension folded around the organ. Although your mouth was dry, the flavour of metallic blood lingering in a cocktail against the floral texture of something akin to jasmine flowers, your body was relieved of the tension for the first time in three years.

No longer hardened by what you assumed to be mild anxiety, you knew you would be able to train harder still to achieve both yours and Dracule Mihawk’s impossibly high standards of yourself. Discovering what harbouring the affections of a warlord of the seas truly meant while training was something that filled your once constricted heart with a soaring freedom you yearned for.

You would have much to discuss upon his return, especially with a green-haired apprentice in tow.

[jjongslutz]

birthday sex with jay??

it’s my actual 21st birthday today (ahh I’m the same age as jay!!) so i had to add in the spice

so sorry that i couldn't get it out on time for the day of, but still happy late birthday!!

birthday sex with jay.

after being woken up by the smell of breakfast coming from the kitchen, you already knew jay was going a step above expectations for your birthday. though, that's to be expected from him.

you peak your head around the corner to find him humming a quiet tune with his back turned to you, focused on whatever is sizzling on the pan.

trying your best to keep quiet, you tiptoe your way past the kitchen island to surprise him with a back hug.

he jumps a little at the suddeness, but relaxes into your touch. "good morning, angel, i didn't think you'd be up so early."

"i didn't think you'd be up so early," you laugh softly. he's notorious for sleeping in, of course.

jay smiles at your words, but doesn't respond. he focuses on flipping another pancake and you watch him carefully. when the golden side faces upward, he turns to you and places a gentle kiss on your forehead. "happy birthday, love."

"thank you," you say with a smile.

soon enough, breakfast is served. delicious homemade pancakes by your personal chef—err, your kindhearted boyfriend, with a side of fruits and your choice of toppings.

"i took the day off," jay says reaching for the syrup.

you shoot a raised brow at him. "oh really?" you taunt. "why's that?"

he shrugs nonchalantly, but the corners of his lips raising are very telling. "i have other plans than to work in the office today." then, he adds, "it's a special day, isn't it?"

which is why you find yourself, barely just over an hour later, laying in bed with shaky breaths. your legs are spread and your boyfriend is ceremoniously between them, taking his sweet time lapping his tongue over your bare pussy while three fingers glide in and out of it at a relaxing pace.

your hand brushes through his hair gently, not too desperately. soft music fills the room, but you concentrate on the soft hums jay emits as he sucks on your clit.

"jay..." you moan quietly.

he looks up at you. "yes, my love?"

"i think i'm stretched enough, hm?"

he pouts playfully. "but i'm having so much fun down here."

"are you doing this for me or for you?"

"for you, of course. birthday girl deserves the best." he goes down once more for good measure, curling his fingers upward in time with his tongue rolling from bottom to top. "you taste so good, love, i'm sorry."

you giggle at his antics, unable to be upset not only from how good he's making you feel, but how sweet he's being with you.

obviously, he's sweet with you whatever the occasion and whichever the context. but today especially he's taking his time in making it all about you.

still, he listens to your pleas and gets up to his knees to start unbuckling his belt and slowly removing his pants and boxers in one movement. his hardened cock springs out of the material, red and leaking at the tip. you let out a soft giggle at jay's flushed face at his obvious excitement.

"c'mere," you whisper to him.

he crawls up to you, reaching down with one hand to guide his dick into your hole. he's done this so many times, he's able to do it without breaking eye contact. jay steadies himself, making sure not to miss a second of your reaction as you feel his tip pushing into you.

your eyes roll back as you let out a hum of pleasure. "thank you..."

"for what, baby?"

keeping your eyes closed, you hum again. "for everything."

he chuckles, rolling his hips slowly, but deeply into your core. "thank you, too."

the rest of the day is spent similarly. once you both cum the first time, jay stays comfortably between your walls as you both fall asleep into each other's arms ; when you wake up, you're at it again, more sensually, but still filled with love. he doesn't stop there, finding himself back with his head between your thighs and his tongue draped across your soaking pussy.

as the sun sets, the two of you cuddling together in bed with a miscellaneous movie on the tv, jay leaves a gentle kiss against your hair, whispering, "happy birthday, pretty girl"

a/n - suffering through writers block so that ending is sooooo rushed i'm sorry 😭

[happiest-hotch]

Mother's Day

Summary: Jack has a very important, surprise gift to give you on a special holiday for your inaugural celebrations together

Paring: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader (Fluff)

WC: 1.4k

Whenever he can, Aaron leaves work early to get Jack. Thankfully, with Strauss's return, he's not still stuck doing two jobs, so he finishes his work in time to get Jack from school. You also love when he has days like that because it means he'll cook something delicious and homemade, maybe even dessert if Jack has anything to say about it.

Jack gets into the car like any other day, but what he says isn't the typical comment about his day or request for an afternoon activity. "Did you know it's Mother's Day this weekend?" Jack asks.

Aaron's heart clenches in his chest. Mother's Days, birthdays, Christmases, and the anniversary of Haley's death are all especially hard days for Jack, and Aaron tries his best to support his son. "Do you want to talk about mom?" He asks softly as he drives. Since Jack doesn't remember a lot of it, Aaron fills in the blanks and answers the questions.

"No, I might want to talk to her tonight, but I want to get a present," Jack explains.

Aaron frowns a little but accepts it. "We can do that. What do you want to get her?"

Jack's thinking face looks like his dad's, something you were the first to point out to Aaron. "I don't know." He admits. "You always get roses for Y/n so maybe I can get her flowers?"

That really throws Aaron, and it rapidly occurs to him that he and Jack aren't talking about the same person. "You want to get a present for Y/n?" He clarifies.

Jack shifts uncomfortably in his car seat, clearly nervous at his father's reaction. "I'm sorry. Is that wrong?"

Aaron can't shake his head fast enough. "No. No, of course not, buddy." He assures his son, reaching back with one hand to touch the boy's foot for extra reassurance. "I think she'd really like that. What made you think you want to get something for her?" He tries to ask it in a non-judgemental, casual tone.

"Well, in class, we were all talking about what we love about our moms, and a lot of the things that my friends were talking about are things that Y/n does for me." He explains, and Aaron feels his heart clench in the best way that time while he bites down a wide smile. "Mom is still my mom, and I'm not forgetting how she used to do those things for me, but Y/n is there for me too."

Aaron notices what he's emphasizing, and he's immensely proud of Jack for being able to express those feelings, understanding that appreciating his mom and recognizing your role in his life aren't mutually exclusive.

Then he's thinking about you as he absorbs the confession. And how lucky he is to have you. You have been a constant source of support and love, a beacon of hope and stability in the wake of their family tragedy, never anything but good to them. He feels so much joy and a tiny bit of sadness. He knows Haley would have loved you and appreciated how much you care for Jack, but he wishes she was there to see it.

He's choked up as he goes to speak. "Jack, that's very sweet of you, and I think, no, I know, Y/n feels the same way about you. She thinks you're the most amazing kid ever."

Jack smiles softly. "She does? Really?"

Aaron can't nod fast enough. "Yes, she always tells me how great she thinks you are."

"So we can get her a gift for her?" Jack confirms, looking hopeful.

"Absolutely." Aaron agrees, taking a right turn to the mall rather than a left to their home. "Whatever you want."

~

It's been such a long week of work and Saturday mornings are Jack's soccer games, so as soon as your Saturday movie night is over, you're fast asleep next to Aaron.

Like usual, he stirs beside you first on Sunday morning, but when you go to get up with him, he softly whispers for you to go back to sleep and that's very easy to do.

When you next wake up, the sun is creeping through the blinds at a different angle, signaling that you slept in for longer than you usually would.

There's a soft knock at the bedroom door before you can properly wake up and get out of bed, and you softly call out for who you expect to be Jack to come in.

You're right in your guess that it's Jack, who quickly jumps up onto the bed with you, followed by his father who has a breakfast tray with a big vase of flowers on it accompanying a delicious-looking plate of French toast.

"Wow, you've both been busy this morning." You mumble sleepily as you sit up to hug Jack who's jumping into your arms.

"Happy Mother's Day!" He cheers joyfully, and you're taken off guard by the greeting, completely shocked.

Your eyes dart to Aaron's to make sure you heard Jack correctly, and his wide smile confirms you have. He's looking between you both with so much love and tenderness, his heart so full it feels like it's bursting.

Your eyes fill with tears as you realize the enormity of what he's just said. "Thank you, Jack." You squeeze him even tighter in a hug, not wanting him to slip away from this perfect moment.

He pulls back and smiles at you before turning back to his dad. "Can we give it to her?" He asks.

"Sure, bud." Aaron agrees, setting the tray down over the top of your legs. He sits near the foot of the bed while Jack snuggles into your side.

Jack reaches forward to pick up the little box next to the breakfast. "Here." He hands it to you. "Happy Mother's Day. Thank you for caring so much about me."

You kiss his forehead, holding him tighter to his side as you gladly accept his thoughtful and unexpected gift. "You're very welcome. I love you, Jackers."

Whatever he has for you has to be jewelry from the small, flat shape of the box and the designer jewelry stamp. You open it up, and your heart melts more, if it were possible. What's inside is a gorgeous gold bracelet with a flat, circular charm, engraved with the letter J.

Jack touches it as your finger does. "It's a J for Jack."

You nod so you don't start crying too much. You're so overwhelmed by gratitude and happiness that you can't help but let one tear slip out.

"Thank you." You finally get the words out. "It's perfect and I love it so much. I'm going to wear it every day, so you're always with me."

Jack's grinning a proud grin, clearly proud of himself for picking it out. Aaron had told him how much you would love it, but seeing it confirms it for him. "I think it'll look beautiful on you." He tells you adorably.

You chuckle a little. "You're a sweet talker just like your dad, you know?"

Aaron laughs next to you, but Jack's confused at what your compliment means, and his attention is drawn elsewhere. "Daddy and I made French toast for me as well. Oh, and I got you flowers."

It's a gorgeous bunch of flowers, beautiful colors, and lovely smells. "Thank you so much. Both of you." You repeat to them, making sure they're feeling the reciprocated love you're feeling.

"You're welcome," Jack says politely.

Aaron leans over to kiss your forehead. "I love you." He whispers.

You whisper it back before looking back at your breakfast plate. "There's a lot of French toast here, so I might need some help eating it." You say suspiciously, looking between Jack and Aaron.

Jack's eyes light up like he's been waiting for you to offer him some of it, and you can't blame him, it looks and smells like restaurant quality and you know breakfast foods are Aaron's strong suit cooking-wise.

"I am kind of hungry." Jack agrees, smirking at you softly.

"Eat up then, bud." You say, offering him the first spoonful. "We've got lots of fun stuff to do today."

[licorice-tea]

I Wish You Knew I Was Real

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x reader

Content: strawhat! reader, fluff and feelings, confessions, midnight snacks (literally), mentions of WCI but no huge spoilers, reader has no specified gender

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: first fic of the new year! i don’t usually write for sanji so i hope this isn’t ooc… anyway, enjoy! also lmk what you think bc idrk how i feel about this one 🤷‍♀️

It’s well past midnight when you sneak into the kitchen of the Thousand Sunny to fix yourself a snack. It wouldn’t really matter if you get caught, seeing as it’s your ship too, but you’d rather not wake up or bother your crewmates.

“Y/n?”

You pause your chopping to find the source of the voice, Sanji, standing in the doorway. He yawns behind his hand as he walks in, “It’s the middle of the night, what are you doing up here?”

“I just got hungry.” But as soon as he’s close enough to see your hands working on cutting up fruit, he seems appalled. “What’s wrong?”

In Sanji’s mind, you should never have to cook for yourself. At least, not when he’s there on the same ship. Not when he would always be so willing and ready to help you out; to use his skills to please you.

“Why didn’t you wake me up? You know I can do it for you, sweetheart-“

“That’s why I tried not to wake you up. You need to get your rest, but I guess I was too noisy, huh?”

Sanji shakes his head determinedly, then gently moves his left hand over yours to take the knife while also holding your waist with his right so that he can maneuver you away from the cutting board. You let him, and he explains, “I get plenty of rest; if you ever need something, y/n, you can come to me. Day or night.”

You hum in acceptance of his statement, and feel content with simply watching him cut the apple into slices from your place beside him. He finishes creating the perfect little slices quickly, then goes the extra mile by carving small triangles out of the peel of each. A smile grows on your lips as you realize they’re meant to look like little bunnies; and they do.

“Cute,” you muse quietly at his creation “Thank you, Sanji.”

The cook smiles to himself before looking over at you, “I thought you’d like them more this way.”

This makes you laugh before replying, “Like a kid who only eats dinosaur shaped nuggets?”

“No, no,” he chuckles as well, “but I know you have an appreciation for aesthetics. Besides, I was right wasn’t I? You think they’re cute, so that’s all that matters.” Sanji says while plating the bunny-apple slices.

You scoot closer, so that your sides are pressed against each other, in a futile attempt to reach across and grab the plate. But, Sanji stops you again with his gentle touch (he’s always so very soft with you, rather than overbearing and borderline obsessive. But, you’d like love him either way.)

His right hand stays on your wrist as his left reaches up into a cabinet to grab the honey jar. He makes a display of lifting a generous amount of honey using the honey dipper over your plate, and drizzling it over the apples. Enough to satisfy your sweet tooth, but not so much it will create a sticky mess.

“Perfect.” he gestures for you to go sit at the kitchen island, but you insist you can “carry the plate just fine.” To which Sanji replies, “I know, but I don’t mind. I like taking care of you like this.”

There’s a faint tinge of red on his cheeks, but you’d never mention it. Especially not when your own, not so platonic feelings for the cook seem to constantly be in the back of your mind these days.

You take a seat on one of the stools at the kitchen island, and Sanji presents your midnight snack with a flourish. “Enjoy, y/n.” He’s walks away to wash his hands, and you expect him to return to sit beside you, but then he walks toward the door.

“Sanji…” He pauses and looks back at you, “Do you want to stay?” You feel sort of awful asking, really, because he’s probably tired, but something inside you just can’t let him go.

And sure enough, his lips curve up into a smile. “I thought you’d never ask!”

He pulls out the stool next to yours and slides onto it, then rests his arm on the back of your seat. The proximity is not unwelcome- you felt it never could be when it came from him- but even if he was, he’s not invading your space. More so creating a kind of link between the two of you, and a feeling of closeness beyond the physical.

You take a bite of one of your apple slices, only to frown slightly when you pull the half eaten slice away from your mouth and realize you’ve destroyed the bunny. Sanji nearly laughs, for he has a similar empathetic disposition and knows how you feel, but then he notices something.

There’s a smidge of honey left behind on the corner of your mouth, which you have not taken notice of, because if you had you surely would’ve licked it up. Even the thought of that sight could make him act a fool, but he’ll try his best not to (just for you.)

“Look here.” he says in a near whisper, and you do. With no other words, he cups your chin and wipes the honey from your lips with his thumb. Your eyes go wide at the first action (when he touches your face to begin with), but they seem to soften when you realize what he’s doing. Sanji takes notice of this too, and just offers a smile. Because what else can he do?

He’s a flirt; he knows that, and so do you, and everyone else he’s ever met. So if he ever were to make a move on you, there’s no way you’d take him seriously. Then again, that’s why he tries to tone down his flirting with you in the first place. He can’t stand the thought of you being under the impression that you’re the same as every girl in the world is to him; because you’re not. You’re… special, in a way. He feels bad saying you’re his favorite of the many objects of his affections, because he has genuine love for so many people (you are though.) But, he can say with certainty that his feelings for you are the only serious ones. No matter how many women he tries to woo on all the adventures of the Straw Hats, he’ll always come back to you. Sanji will always choose you.

“Um, Sanji?” His hand is still on your jaw with his thumb on your bottom lip, so you pull it away with gentle force. “Sanji?” Hearing your sweet voice pulls him out of his stupor (the first time, he was concentrated on simply the sound of your voice.)

“Sorry, sweetness, I uh… Your pretty lips distracted me for a second~” Sanji purposely exaggerates his tone a little, so you just accept his reasoning with a giggle.

“Sure thing, Sanji.”

You eat your apple slices in comfortable silence for a bit, thinking of the aforementioned feelings you’ve been harboring for the chef since… Who knows- but you didn’t realize these feelings until you saw him for the first time after 2 years spent training apart. There had never been such a strong excitement in your voice as when you called his name that day, and he launched himself onto you in a tight hug. You had walked to the predetermined meeting place and entered the bar together, hand in hand. It felt so natural, too; like your hands were meant to fit together. Of course, you’d never voice these feelings, because if Sanji had feelings for you surely he’d tell you. Eventually, you hope. This brings about another question in your mind;

“Why do you like women? I mean, like, every woman we meet, even if she’s an enemy?”

He shrugs slightly, “At one point, the only people who were kind to me were women. Remember I told you about my mom and my sister?” During the Whole Cake Island experience, Sanji had in fact explained more about his relationships with his family members, and you recalled how his mother and sister were the only ones that showed him any sort of empathy.

“Mhm… That makes sense.” a moment of silence passes, as you’re a little nervous to ask this next question. “And why do you like me?”

The cook’s eyes widen like a deer in headlights, and he glances at you before concentrating on the surface of the island table. “I… I like this crew because you’re all my nakama. But…” It’s unusual to hear the typically very passionate man say something so quietly. You tilt your head as if to say, “Go on. I’m listening,” so he continues, “You’re important to me, y/n.”

“Good, you’re important to me, too.”

“Really?” Sanji seems a little shocked, “You know, I… I try not to be the way I am with women, with you, because I want you to take me seriously. I want you to know I mean it when I say nice things or do favors for you. I want you to know that it’s real.”

“I do take you seriously.”

Then, he takes a deep breath and puts both of his hands around one of yours, “And I want you to take my feelings for you seriously, when I confess them to you.”

“…Didn’t you just…?”

He grins and shakes his head, “No, y/n. When I confess the type of feelings I have for you and the extent of them, I’ll do it much more romantically than this.” Sanji looks positively giddy now, smiling and tightly (but not uncomfortably) holding your hand. “I just want you to know that what I feel for you is real.” And with that, he plants a chaste kiss on your cheek. It’s nothing like his occasionally vulgar and pg-13 methods of wooing women, but it makes your heart skip a beat. You’re sort of at a loss for words…

This time you’re the one pulled out of a daze by the other’s voice when he says, “Goodnight, y/n.”

“Oh, goodnight Sanji.” You smile at him, and he smiles back before nodding at you and leaving.

Even if that wasn’t a real confession, and maybe the timing wasn’t quite right, you were still biting back a smile as you rinsed off your plate and placed it in the dishwasher. But now you have a real confession to look forwards to, according to Sanji.

[arkhamknightz]

TOLERATE IT

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary; in which, spencer starts to get distant from you, and all you can do is sit and wonder why - part 2

warnings: age gap (just a few years, not specified but mentions of him being older) no happy ending, lots of angst, reader is angry and i mean very angry reader, sad spencer at the end, spencer before prison

notes: criminal minds obsession comes back every year and its on its annual visit rn! anyways I know reader kinda goes after him in their fight but I’m venting. i’m open to writing a part 2 with a happy ending if anyone wants it!

You sat on the other end of the couch while Spencer sat with his legs up reading a book, a small frown on your face as you watched him. He had suddenly become distant in the last few weeks. You had passed it off as a rough case, but usually his odd behavior never lasted this long.

You had asked the team if he had been doing alright, but to them nothing had been out of the ordinary, he was still the same Spencer at work that he always was.

You woke up next to him the morning after, and sat and watched him sleep. He looked so peaceful, but you couldn’t help but notice you didn’t wake up with your head on his chest or with his arms wrapped around your waist like you did before.

You sat and watched him for a while, savoring the morning. You knew things weren’t gonna be as peaceful when he woke up. He stopped waking up early to read to you at the kitchen counter while you made him a coffee before work, and he stopped rambling to you when he got back.

He stopped doing all the little things you loved, but you patiently waited for him. You waited for things to go back to normal and for him to stop treating you like you were some ghost in the house. It never happened. He started going to bed earlier, leaving the house later, avoiding your questions about what was going on with him. He stopped holding you at night and started facing away from you.

You laid on your back, facing up towards the ceiling. A million thoughts swarmed through your head at once. It wasn’t a secret Spencer was older than you. But had that started to bother him? He was much wiser than you were, even despite the fact he was a genius. Had you become too needy? Had something happened at work that none of them thought was appropriate to tell you about?

Spencer always told you when he was coming back from a case. He would always give you little details, not commenting much on the contents of it. He liked to keep you away from the horrors of his work, not wanting to subject you to such things. You would wait by the door and as soon as you heard the knob turn your face would light up like a kids in a candy store.

You stopped waiting for him. He stopped telling you when he was coming home. You turned your head, seeing he was still asleep. A small tear rolled down your cheek and you got up out of bed before getting changed and leaving the house. You walked to the small book store the both of you had met in, and you sat by the window.

You had put in effort to spend time with him, laying the table with your best dishes, his favorite food, but he brushed it off claiming he ate with the team. You made efforts to get him new books, make him coffee in the mornings before work, do his laundry and so forth. He never addressed it, never a thank you, you could hardly even remember the last time he said he loved you.

You thought it was all in your head, that maybe you had read things wrong and he was just having a really rough time. But his hard exterior hadn’t faltered in a while. Usually he was able to brush things off, talk to you after a few days and things would be okay. But there was this unsettling feeling in your chest, an ache. Things didn’t seem like they were gonna be okay.

You picked up a book off the coffee table of the bookstore. It was one of his favorites. You looked at the cover with a sad smile on your face. You used to greet him at the door like he had been gone for months, a hug and dinner waiting for him inside.

Now all that’s left were snarky comments when he got home, a bitter attitude and grumbles under his breath when you tried to talk to him. You sat and listened while he would poke at you after a long day, passive aggressive comments flying out of his mouth as you did dishes.

All you could do was just sit and listen. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t pull yourself away from your activities to be upset with him. You found yourself giving him the benefit of the doubt and more often making excuses for his behavior rather than addressing it to him directly.

It was getting a bit dark outside, the sun was starting to set and so you left the bookstore, the memories floating through the air as you left the shop. It felt like you left part of yourself in there somehow, you walked into the door of your shared apartment, dread seemingly started to fill your body.

“Where were you?” He spoke, his voice was quiet but you could tell he wasn’t happy. It wasn’t worry either, you know what he sounded like when he was worried. “I went out.” You put your keys down and walked past him, he turned around. “For hours? I woke up and no note, no texts, no calls, nothing.” You scoffed. “So you can do it but suddenly when I leave without saying something I’m the bad guy?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You shook your head. “You know what that means Spencer. Don’t sit and play dumb with me.” You looked over at him as he rolled his eyes. “Its my job.” “You know what else your job is?” He looked at you, waiting for you to continue. “To actually fill your title as my boyfriend. You stopped telling me when you’re coming home, you stopped talking to me completely. I feel like a ghost in this stupid apartment Spencer!”

You laughed bitterly. “I mean come on, why do you care I was gone for so long? You can hardly keep eye contact with me anymore. Why’s me leaving the house any different huh? Like I leave you alone all day by my OWN choice this time and you still find a reason to be mad?” Spencer furrowed his brows at you.

“Are you kidding m-“ you slammed your hands on the table, eyes brimming with tears. “No! No I’m not fucking kidding. Why act like you suddenly care about where I was when you’re the one pushing me away? Mind you, you didn’t make any effort to ask me where I was all day anyways. My phones been on the whole day so don’t even make some excuse that you called or texted me and I didn’t respond. So don’t sit and fucking ask me if im kidding.”

He seemed surprised by your outburst. But oh you weren’t done with him. “I mean come on? ‘Are you kidding’ like do you hear yourself? Spencer I have been nothing but patient with you for the last what, 2 almost 3 months? What happened to the man who would throw blankets over barbed wire hmm? What happened to him? Because you’ve done nothing but avoid me and shut me out. You’ve barely spoken 5 whole sentences to me in the last 2 weeks! Two!”

Spencer interrupted you. “For the love of god can you stop talking!” Tears of frustration were falling down your face. “No! No you don’t get to do this to me. I have spent so long giving you nothing but love for you to turn around and shut me out completely. I’m practically begging for you to even pay attention to me for more than 3 seconds. So what is it hmm? Did I start taking up too much space and time in your life? Because clearly it’s not work. I’ve asked repeatedly if something had gone on that I didn’t know about and they said you were acting fine so what is it?”

He said nothing and you scoffed. You walked away and went into your shared bedroom before grabbing a suitcase and shoving clothes in. He followed in behind you, seeming panicked. “What are you doing? No no stop packing talk to me please.” You shook your head. “I did. You said nothing.” He shut your suitcase and spoke, his voice cracking. “Please we can talk about this.”

That only made you angrier. “Talk about this? Are you fucking kidding me? You’ve had 3 months to talk to me about whatever’s bothering you and you still haven’t. I’ve tried my best I really have and that’s not enough for you apparently. I know you hear me crying at night. You’re a god damned profiler for crying out loud and you didn’t notice I’ve been trying to hold myself together in hopes you decide to care about me again?”

“I do care.” You opened back up your suitcase and stuffed in more clothes. “You didn’t think I’d leave? Spencer I love you but I’m not putting myself through this. When’s the last time you said that to me hmm?” He shamefully spoke. “2 months, 3 weeks and 5 days ago.” “Exactly my point.”

You went into the bathroom, Spencer pleading in the other room. You walked out with your stuff and put them in a backpack before gathering any other items you wanted to take with you. “I know my love should be celebrated. But all you do is sit there and tolerate it. I know I deserve better than to be shut out by you, I’ve tried my best to be patient, I really have. When you decide that you’re done dealing with whatever’s going on that you won’t tell me about, or you decide to let me back in call me. Otherwise don’t bother reaching out.”

“Where are you going?” He looked at you with tears in his eyes, voice shaking. “To stay with a friend. I love you Spencer, I really do. More than anything. But I won’t wait in this house any longer. Not when all you’ve done is shoot snarky comments at me when I’ve done nothing but care for you. I wont.”

You grabbed your bag and walked out the apartment. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you heard the door open back up. Not bothering to turn around. Spencer sat there and watched you walk into the elevator. A small whisper of his voice. “I’m sorry.”

[genshin-scenarios]

ignite - lyney x reader

Summary: friends to enemies to lovers! ‘My enemy lost their memories and I couldn’t help but lie about our relationship’ trope

You used to work with the twins until you were betrayed by them (Lyney and Lynette had to be loyal to their mission). Things have been tense since, but now that you’ve gotten into an accident and woke up with amnesia… What are they going to do?

Wordcount: 1700+

Content note: mentions of Reader getting badly injured, but not explicitly described! Lyney used to have a budding crush on you before your fallout.

Adopt a Wanderer Fanbook: Digital Store

After the betrayal that sowed your hatred towards them, Lyney had tried to reach out three times. 

Once, on the streets, where you briskly walked away. He sees you hiding a limp. Guilt eats up at him, remembering the way he and Lynette had to abandon the scene once they’d fulfilled their objective. They were still too young to even consider bending the rules of their mission, especially when turning their backs on you wasn’t meant to happen at all. They tried to give you a signal, but you noticed their retreat too late.

Next, when he sent you an invitation to their magic show. You didn’t bother showing up. He still wonders if you kept his letter after all this time.

Finally, when he showed up at your door. Lyney promised his sister this would be his last try. 

It hurts more because he sees your expression and knows their betrayal struck you deeper than you cared to admit. The three of you had gone on many missions before when your organisation collaborated with the Fatui. You were friends, and bonds forged under life-threatening situations weaved deep.

So did Lyney’s attachment once he opened himself up. You stuck out your neck for both him and Lynette many times, and they also get used to returning the favour. 

The three of you could’ve maintained a deadly alliance, if only you were still friends to this day.

Lyney’s apology reaches your ears. You listen, watch his body language, and move to open the door and gesture for him to leave.

“...You remind me a lot of your Father, now.” You’d said, avoiding his gaze. “I wish you and Lynette the best.”

The shadow of other circumstances cling to you, but it’s not his place to ask.

It’s unfortunate that Lyney has a bleeding heart and never let the memory of you go. In the past his feelings hadn’t fully bloomed yet, but certainly there was something budding whenever you fought battles together and had late-night dinners. You were both too busy trying to survive, but you were always his what if; what if you’d stayed close? What if that mission never went awry?

What if your circumstances were different?

So, when you finally run into each other again after two years, Lyney sees you at one of their missions and his heart stops beating. Because the underwater cave is collapsing and you’re not close enough to the exit to escape. And the next thing he knows his body moves to pull you out of the wreckage: 

Not fast enough to get you out unscathed, but fast enough to save your life. You have a head injury but you’re still breathing. He and Lynette bring you back to the House of Hearth to get treated. His sister is the one to suggest bringing you back; Lyney is too distressed and neither of your organisations are very legal. You live the same lives from different parts of shadow.

However, soon after you wake up in the infirmary, the twins realise very quickly that you’re missing memories.

You don’t remember them, nor things about yourself.

It’s a bigger loss than either of them are willing to admit. Lynette glances at her brother—who in a split second goes from blank-faced and shocked into a smiling, kind magician. 

He speaks to you like he would an injured child, but Lynette isn’t sure if this was to soothe you or himself, at this point. 

“You were caught up in an accident, but you’re safe now.” Lyney says, kneeling down next to your bed. You’re still lying on your back, hesitating to move once you feel the bandages around your head. 

“I remember a cave, and rocks falling…” You frown. “What was I doing in that kind of place?”

“Well, you’ve always been quite an adventurer.” Lynette raises her brow silently as Lyney spins a lie. “Me and my sister Lynette were in your travelling party. But since you got injured, we brought you to our home to get treated.”

“...I see.” You mutter, looking around. When you spot Lynette standing a bit behind her brother, you give her an unsure smile. “This is a safe place, right?”

Yes. But your un-amnesiac self might not agree. “Yes.” Lynette answers, before looking at Lyney. “My brother was a mess when you wouldn’t wake up. We’re both glad you’re fine.”

“Lynette!”

“Thank you for looking after me.” You hold back a chuckle. “I’m afraid I can’t remember much, but you’re both clearly very close.”

“You can stay here as long as you need to recover.” Lyney promises, before the twins excuse themselves to get you some food.

-

As the days pass and your memories show no sign of improvement, Lyney’s resolve starts to crumble. It’s been so long since you looked at him or his family with warmth.

Before, it was hidden behind a straight posture as you leaned against the wall, observing the younger children while they played. He’d admired you quietly from the sidelines, thinking it held a certain charm when paired with your combative prowess. 

Now that the shield you put between yourself and the world is gone, and Lyney is getting much too attached every time you look up from a book you’re reading, innocently curious and trusting. ‘What’s up?’ You might ask. And Lyney would make small talk or tell you stories about the house.

But once he runs out of stories, how much longer before your sharp mind catches on? And will Lyney get away with this betrayal of trust again, without meeting your blades?

“This isn’t a magic trick, Lyney. You’re going to get the both of you hurt.”

“That’s only if they recover their memories. And if they do grow enough reasons to hate me, that means I did a great job of nursing them to health.”

“They never hated us, before.” Lynette frowns.

“But they never would’ve treated us so warmly again, either.”

Lyney spends his free time researching you; catching up on the two years of your fallout. What your habits were, and how you’re seen by others—so that he has a better idea of how to prompt the return of your memories. 

Sitting down to tell you stories about yourself has become part of Lyney’s routine. He fabricates some details, but keeps facts intact. And when you ask Lyney how he knows so much about you, he spins a white lie of saying you’re close friends.

“This is you, isn’t it?”

Lyney’s heart drops when he sees an image of himself on the newspaper, but relief washes in once he realises it’s just about his previous show.

Not the scandal about him and Lynette being part of the Fatui.

Laughing sheepishly in an attempt to cover up the racing of his heart, Lyney accepts the paper from your hands and traces his gaze over the headlines. “Looks like our newest trick was quite successful.”

“You never told me how popular you are. I didn’t think I was friends with a celebrity.” You joke. To be honest, your main impression of Lyney has been from around the house—he’s reliable and dotes on his siblings, always willing to perform a trick or two to entertain them. 

Lyney’s heart twinges. “It’s only my job,” he says, but the simple joy he feels from your praise is dangerous. This is you, but you’re incomplete. Without memories. And he should never wish that you’d stay like this, in a state where you’d give him a little smile at the end of a long talk that he’s grown weak to. Or gotten closer to his younger siblings, or even built a music box with Freminet who’s no less than shy; and even if this feels like his what ifs are all coming true, Lyney is crushed by the knowledge that it could collapse at any minute. “I’m just glad if my performances can bring smiles to the crowd.”

It’s not just your lowered guard that’s different, but the fact that Lyney’s never seen you freed from your responsibilities. And within this sphere, he feels a tiny bit of escapism himself.

“Lyney, I know you said we were friends, but…” Your brows furrow. “Was that really all we were?”

Lyney freezes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… Lynette always looks at us a certain way when we’re talking. And the children tell me we were particularly close.” You take a deep breath. “I guess what I mean to ask is: were we ever… involved?”

Lyney’s face has turned a bright red.

“I— You don’t have to answer if it’s too awkward!” You try to salvage. “It’s a stupid question, forget about it.”

“No no, it’s not stupid at all!” He exclaims, quickly turning towards the first-aid kit he’s put on the table to distract himself. His hands remember how to work, so it’s only his brain that’s scrambled. “I mean, we were definitely… Um.” Lyney, think! “We were close.” He finishes lamely. “But I would be lying if I said I never considered you special to me.”

While Lyney changes your bandages, you press your lips together and study his body language. You can tell that he sometimes omits things in conversation, and while you also know that he’s busy, Lyney’s been staying with you for longer times these days. Having heavier conversations, letting his smiles border on something doting—but you can’t let yourself fall into this lulling dynamic until you have some clarification of what you two are.

Ever since you’ve woken up, you’ve felt like you were in a warm, sunlight-tinted world within the comforts of the House of Hearth. You vaguely know of this place’s past, but something is missing from your memory. And you’re terrified at the idea that once you step outside, you’ll learn that none of this little world was actually real.

“What if I told you we were lovers?”

That snaps you back to reality.

“What?” You echo in surprise. But when Lyney’s lilac gaze meets yours, you’re surprised by how determined they look. Like a soldier taking a stand. 

But only Lyney knows that this decision will make or break things in the future. Despite that, he reaches out for the chance to live through his what if for just a little longer. 

When he reaches out to entwine your fingers, you don’t pull away. He knows deep down that he’d still try to help you regain your memories, even if that means things might end in flames.

[d10nyx]

i apologise if you feel something

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, dead dove, domestic abuse, possessive leon, toxic behaviour, heavy non-con, choking, p in v, improper prep, blood as lube, creampie, physical assault, crying, BRIEF murder threat, guilt, very brief praise n degradation mixed in

a/n: hiii! this is written w re2 leon in mind!! pls be aware there are quite graphic depictions of co-dependency n abuse in this one. it's late, so pls ignore typos !! title from bmth song of the same name

word count: 1.8k words

Leon wasn't the same man you knew before Raccoon City. When he first came home after his first day, he was clingy. He wouldn't leave you alone, following you around like a lost puppy. You didn't know the extent of what he went through at the beginning, but he slowly began to open up about the horrors he saw.

You were there for him. Of course you were. You let him stay at your place now his new apartment was left in ruins after the bomb hit. Not that he could stay in that godforsaken city, anyway. He still dreamt of the infected most nights, waking up in a cold sweat.

You could have handled that, if it was all it was. You wanted to be there for him, help him recover as best he could. You loved him, and you wanted him to be okay more than anything.

But he started changing. You couldn't so much as try and leave for the store without him crowding you against the wall, demanding to know exactly what you needed. If you were out and didn't answer his texts, he'd make sure to let you know you fucked up.

He wasn't above hitting you, gripping your throat until you almost passed out. Anything to keep you under his thumb, to make sure you wouldn't leave him. He'd seen too much death so early in his life.

He wasn't going to lose you, too.

You couldn't take it anymore. He controlled every aspect of your life. It was getting to the point that you'd flinch anytime he moved too fast. You hated being scared in your own apartment.

You tried bringing it up gently, tell him it just wasn't working out for you. After all, he'd be leaving for military training soon, and you needed to finish up your college studies and think about building a career.

You regretted it as soon as the words came out of your mouth.

“You think you get to leave me?” He says with a dry, humourless laugh. He stalks towards you like a lion cornering its prey, backing you up against the wall. He cages you in with his larger frame, looking down at you with a dark glint in his eyes.

“That's cute, baby. Really. You think you get a fucking choice?” The words are punctuated with a harsh grip on your throat, squeezing you so hard that your airflow is instantly cut off. You can feel the blood rushing to your face as you try and suck in a breath, your hands clawing at his wrists to try and get them off.

Your nails draw blood, and that just pisses him off even more. He yanks you towards him slightly by your neck before slamming you back against the wall, your head hitting it with a loud thud.

Pain shoots across your system, your vision blurry with the unshed tears forming. He lets go of your throat after another minute, watching with a sadistic glee as you crumple to the floor at his feet. He squats down, watching as you choke in air to fill your burning lungs.

“You're the only good thing left in my life, baby. You don't get to leave me.”

“You're crazy…” You gasp out, pushing on the floor to attempt to stand up again. He was dangerous. You needed to get out before he killed you.

His eye twitches at your words, and a foot goes flying for your stomach before you can even register it. You fall to the floor once more, sobbing as you curl in on yourself in a pathetic attempt to protect your body from more hits.

“I'm crazy?” He says quietly, an eerie sense of calm in his voice. He stands over you, placing his foot on your wrist before grinding the sole of his boot into your wrist, making you cry out in pain.

“I'm crazy?” He repeats louder this time, almost yelling at you. He yanks you up by your hair, dragging you into the bedroom and throwing you onto the bed. “You're the crazy one! You think this is bad, sweetheart? I can make you disappear.”

"You want to leave me, huh?" His breathing is hard and fast. "I'm crazy, huh?" The veins in his neck are bulging out, his hands fiddling with the buckle of his belt.

"I'll show you crazy."

Your entire body is shaking, but you have to get out. You have to get to your phone. You look at the door, and that was your worst mistake. In a flash, he's slapping you across the face hard enough that your ears ring, blood filling your mouth.

“Cute. Real fucking cute.” He hisses, grabbing your jaw roughly so you're facing him. He seems to get even angrier when he sees how terrified you look.

“Aww… baby. You're scared?” He coos, a mocking pout making its way to his lips. “You should be grateful. I'm keeping you safe. You have no right to be scared. If you knew what I've seen, what I've been through-”

He pauses to suck in a shaky breath through his teeth, images of the horrors he'd endured during Raccoon City flashing through his mind and making him feel nauseous.

“You should consider yourself lucky.” He says in a low tone, his expression hardening as he looks down at you. “You haven't been exposed to anything worth being scared of, princess.”

“Don't worry, though. I understand. I'll just have to fuck some sense back into you, hmm? Remind you of who's been by your side since day fucking one, keeping you safe.”

Your eyes widen at his words, and it seems to renew your fight. You struggle against him all over again, crying as you push and kick at his torso, thrashing as he pins you down on the bed. “Leon… Leon, no, wait… babe, fuck I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, m'so sorry, just…”

He shoves three fingers into your mouth, the tips jarring your throat and making you sputter and choke. There's a steady stream of tears running down your face at his point, your breaths heavy through your nose.

“Do you ever shut up?” He grunts, tugging down your pyjama pants and underwear, frowning when he sees you're not wet for him. That's new. Oh well. Wasn't gonna stop him.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, coated with a mix of your blood and spit. He uses that to ease his way into you, pushing two fingers in straight away and spreading them inside of you to stretch you out for him.

“Leon, stop… that hurts.” You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut and kicking your legs out weakly. He's not doing this for you. Doesn't try to hit your sweet spot or rub your clit to ease the discomfort like he usually does.

“One more word from you, and I swear to god, I'm going to break your pretty fucking neck.” He grunts, yanking his fingers out of your pussy to free his cock from his jeans.

You're nowhere near prepared enough to take him. You cry out in pain as he bottoms out in one thrust. He doesn't give you a second to adjust, nothing. He just starts thrusting, chasing his own high as he fucks into you.

Either you're getting wet, or you're bleeding. Whichever one it is, slick lines your pussy and makes his thrusts easier. He groans as he continues to rock his fat cock into your cunt, his head thrown back in pleasure.

His hands grip your thighs as you try and close them, holding them wide apart so he has full access to fuck you as much as he wants. You give up, going limp as he takes what he wants from you.

“There we go… shit, you feel so fucking good. Even when you say no, she sucks me right in.” He moans, his hips rabbiting even faster against you, the sounds of slapping skin filling the room.

“Such a… god.” He sucks in a breath through his teeth, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “Perfect little slut for me… pussy always squeezes me so good…”

His eyes flutter open, and he tilts his head down to take you in. He finally looks at your face and sees how much you're sobbing, the pure terror in your face. His brows furrow, and he frowns. He looks down further, trailing your body and noticing the bruise forming on your stomach. When his gaze reaches his cock and he sees the blood coating it, a look of panic flashes across his face for a second.

He seems to realise what he's doing, his expression switching to one of worry in an instant. His hips stutter, but don't stop. He pulls out just enough to spit on his dick, trying to make it hurt less for you. He starts to sob, his hands cupping your cheeks and caressing them softly.

"Fuck, baby. I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me." He says quietly, voice cracking halfway through the sentence. He feels sick when he sees your blood coating his length and has to swallow down the bile that rises in his throat. Doesn't make him stop, though. What the fuck is wrong with him?

"I didn't mean it. I swear. I just love you so, so much. I have nobody. Can't lose you, too." He breathes out, dropping his head against your shoulder as he ruts shallowly into you. “My pretty baby. Such a good girl. Don't wanna hurt you… hate seein’ you cry.”

You don't know how you end up comforting him, promising him it's okay even as your whole body aches and your insides burn with every thrust. It hurts to see him hurting. You'd rather take a beating than see him this broken. All it takes for him to cum is for you to say you love him, too.

He pulls out carefully, pressing kisses down your neck. You don't move. Don't speak. You couldn't, even if you wanted to. You're limp in his arms as he picks you up, cradling you carefully against his chest.

He runs you a bath, gently placing you into the hot, soapy water. He peppers kisses all over your face as the water washes away the blood and cum, soothing your aching muscles.

He keeps saying he's sorry, his eyes filled with remorse. He promises he won't do it again, but you know he will. As soon as you step a toe out of line, he'll snap again. You know you should leave. You'd be dead if he kept this up. But seeing that pain on his face, the way he trembles as he washes your hair tenderly…

You'd stay one more day. Just one more day…

[cinnamonest]

OMG I MISSED YOUR WRITINGS ON SCARAMOUCHE SO MUCH!!

Please I need the version with camgirl reader x incel Scaramouche 🛐

And I hope you are well !!! <3

The way I was gonna make this a fairly simple post and then I got carried away and now it's 9k words WHOOPS

Anyway YES anon, I am on the slut girl x virgin boy agenda... although since I already have a camgirl, this time I went with like an onlyf*ns/e-girl darling + college AU >:3

//noncon, cyberstalking, blackmail, harassment, misogyny, sadism, nipple/ass stuff, revenge porn/leaking, darling is portrayed as being feminine + implied to have a bf

---

You tell yourself it's just to get you through college.

That's how you convinced yourself to start the account — regular camming requires a schedule and streaming and all that, which you'd rather not do, whereas the other outlets let you sell subscriptions for photos and videos, and there was a decent market out there, so you took your best shot, did some work to advertise yourself on mainstream social sites, and hey, it worked. You soon find yourself with a steady stream of income, and all you have to do is masturbate on camera and take a few posed photos of your body.

A few years of some extra income, and then you'll be done, get a better job, and you can delete the account and scrub the internet clean of any trace of the matter. Maybe some guy out there will keep some of the photos, but it can't be that bad.

This way, you can focus on your academics, which a regular part-time job would be too time-consuming for. You don’t have to worry about scheduling classes around a work schedule, either, which allows you to be more choosy on your class schedule, ensuring you get the later classes and don’t have to wake up early each day.

Except one, where you had no choice but to take the early class, as the other sections filled up fast. It’s one of those required tech-involved ones, you just picked from the list at random — one of those big classes with hundreds of people in a huge auditorium, any degree of personalism drowned by the sheer number of people. It’s a male-dominated subject field, and the body of attending students when you walk in clearly reflects that, so you just sit down in the very back at the first unclaimed seat you can find, pausing to say good morning to the boy next to you, who only briefly looks your way in acknowledgement.

The professor goes over the generic first-day material — that yes, you need the expensive textbook, that yes, he will check attendance, and no, he will not give you extra credit at the last minute at the end of the semester, so on and so on… and—

—you’ll be working with the person next to you for the rest of the semester.

Even-numbered seats, the person to your immediate left, odd-numbered seats, to your immediate right. You turn and smile at the guy you’re thus assigned to, the same one you spoke to a few moments ago — once again, he just glances over at you and nods with some vague acknowledgement and then resumes doing what he’s been doing since the professor started, which is scrolling on his phone beneath the desk, only half-paying attention. That does not bode well for your predictions of how equally-yoked you’ll be in your work ethic… but no big deal.

It's one of those classes with a midterm and final project that you work on throughout the semester, rather than tests… which, hey, that could be fun, you tell yourself. You think you can get along. He doesn’t seem to care about what's going on around him much, which is not exactly good, but isn’t bad.

That dopey, happy demeanor… so obnoxious… ugh, you’ve got a notebook (an aesthetic, pretty one at that), and you're pulling it out on the first day of class? For what?

Except you aren’t reading him all that well at all. Unbeknownst to you, his eyes shift over to you and your activities throughout the class. And the reality is he very much does care.

That is, from the very second he lays eyes on you, you irritate him.

Then you write the class and your name at the top of the page all cutesy and artsy-looking, and then— God, now you're pulling out the multiple colors of highlighters and pens. Is that— is that one of those sparkly gel pens? Oh, it is. You’re making a little header with today’s date for your notes with it. Just kill him now. This is practically psychological torture.

Thus, while from your perspective, it feels like he barely pays you a second thought, in reality the rest of the period for him is spent just stewing in a stream of bitter, jaded thoughts.

Look at you with your… girl clothes and girl pens and girl notebook… you probably think you're so cute, spending money on dumb stuff like that… and smiling like an idiot. What are you so happy for. Why are you even taking this class when you'll just be bad at it. Why are you dressed like you put effort into it. Just pick up one of the sweatshirts laying on your bedroom floor like a reasonable person. And why do you smell so nice too.

He mulls over the negativity for the remainder of the class period, totally zoned out until people start packing up, which is the cue to leave.

Except you stop him before he can make a quick exit, holding out your phone, open to a new entry in your contacts.

Ah, since we'll need to work on the project, I can text you…

Right. That. Ugh.

The awkward discomfort of standing there and entering a name and number while you stand there with that dumb little nervous smile is only made more upsetting by the bitter realization that this will mark the first time he's ever had his number in a girl's phone before. Great, now he's going to be depressed for the rest of the day, and it's your fault.

You say thanks and smile again and your hands brush against his when you take your phone back and it makes him physically flinch in recoil — and you definitely noticed it, you mumble a little ah, sorry as if you're trying to make it even more awkward, now he's got to live with the humiliation of that too, and it's still your fault. Clearly, you are going to be nothing but a source of frustration.

And even once he's moped all the way back to the the comfort of his nice, dark apartment, he still can't escape your torment — no sooner does he flop down into bed than his phone goes off…

>Hi! Just wanted to make sure you can save my number too!

You add the little smiling emoji. It makes his eye twitch.

Trying to act all nice and sweet as if you're not only being pleasant because you're forced to work together. He knows full well you'd be all bitchy and demanding and hypersensitive in any other context, and probably all snobbish too, probably would barely pay him any mind.

Even if you are genuinely sweet, that in and of itself is still basically torturing him. Because what’s the point in you being sweet if you’re not going to give him anything more than that? With that in mind, even your niceness is just a cruel tease.

And why would you even be so happy to begin with? Doesn't being a girl suck? If he was something so weak and inferior and unintelligent, he'd be even more miserable about life, and that's really saying something. Maybe it's one of those things where you're so dumb that you lack self-awareness, so you can live a life of ignorant bliss... at the same time, the notion that you’re unaware of how inferior you are is equally frustrating. You should know, that knowledge should weigh on your mind all the time.

The frustration makes his chest feel tight, makes him grind his teeth… naturally, he has to get it out somehow, and there's a very convenient means to do so.

The imageboards he frequents almost always have a “leaked images” thread up and running, communities where they post e-girls’ nudes and revenge porn. The wrongness of it, of course, is the appeal.

Besides, they all deserve it. Some are images originally sent to boyfriends, posted as an act of revenge after cheating or dumping the guy (so it's deserved, really), others are leaked videos and photos from various pay-to-view networks and websites (also deserved, for being a whore), and finally some are just creepshots in public places (deserved once more, for dressing that way).

And the endless amount of the content and surprisingly good tagging system means that one can find any sort of content, and for the leaked porn accounts, it includes the girl's username and links to more of her, so you can see more of the same girl.

Like with this one, that just so happens to catch his eye. There's a whole page where some guy has paid for every single photo this girl has made, and put it out there for everyone to see for free. It's solo stuff, too, which is preferred — seeing couples making videos together, thereby watching the girl love on some guy, is depressing — and getting off to it is much more satisfying than any of the other girls on this thread, considering she looks like you.

…A lot, actually.

He's already memorized your annoying, pretty little face. The title of the video has the words “college girl” in it, too. Adds to the immersion, can feel like it’s really you, degrading yourself like that… of course, when it’s over, he has to deal with the reality that it isn’t, but the momentary pretending is cathartic.

And sure enough, as the first week passes, you quickly prove just as irritating as he initially suspected. You smile at him and talk to him every class, for some unknown, malicious ulterior motive. Are you trying to be belittling? Or are you trying to make him like you so that he'll do favors for you? Or is it for your own amusement?

Either way, the obvious deceit of it all is sickening. It's a commonly known female behavior. You try to come across as so sweet when in reality it's all an act, and you have some horrible reason for it. He just doesn't know what the reason is in your case yet. It would be better to be a bad person outright — the slimy underhanded fakeness of it all is what makes that type of evil so contemptible.

You, though, you’re just a bit puzzled. Normally, being nice to people works well… but this guy keeps sort of glaring at you… maybe that’s just how his face naturally is? But then, he also doesn’t talk very nice either. Not particularly mean, per se, but you can sort of sense an irritation, like you’ve done something wrong… you try to make the best of it, tell yourself you’re just imagining it. Besides, if he really didn’t like you, he wouldn’t respond when you talk to him, or would sit elsewhere, right? It’s not like you have to maintain the same seats all semester, as long as you work on the required material outside of class. So, you tell yourself, he must just be one of those people that naturally has that demeanor.

You’re not nearly as aware of it, but he makes his own observations of you too. You don’t check your phone nearly as much as he does, but every now and then, you look at something or another, and he always makes sure to subtly turn his eyes to see… it’s usually something stupid, like texts from friends, or worse, what appears to be a boyfriend, some male name you text often.

The first time you’re forced to meet outside of class, at the library per your suggestion — a very awkward interaction, but you seem to be fairly unbothered — you take a moment to check it when it vibrates. You’re sitting at an angle that makes it difficult for him to see without moving in a way that would catch your attention, but by pretending to take a swig of whatever can of liquid caffeine he has today (you had the audacity to comment how unhealthy it is), that he can tilt his head enough just to barely make out your screen without being noticed.

Your phone is open to an email.

The words flash across the screen for just a split second before you turn the screen off, but that one second is enough to make out the top of the screen. Enough time for the ‘hello, (username),’ preface to the email right beneath a very familiar blue logo to register with his brain.

He nearly chokes.

It takes every ounce of willpower to even try to hide the natural reaction — his eyes widen, he goes tense, he has to turn his torso away and pretend to fish something out of his cluttered bottomless void of a backpack whilst trying to refrain from coughing.

But then again, you put the phone away so quickly once you saw what it was… and the video from the other day…?

No. That can't be right.

There's no way. There's no way, there's no way, there's no way.

He can’t get back to his own place fast enough. Dropping the keys trying to unlock the door out of excitement, immediately whipping out his own phone, and he’s on the bookmarks tab before he can even sit down. Back to the leaks site, scrolling down to the tags where they put the girl’s username.

You’re wholly unbothered, going right back to talking to him in that overly-sweet tone, so nice, so frustrating, so torturous. You’re saying something. He has to get you to repeat yourself… no, it was just some pointless question about the homework.

To hell with that, that’s not even remotely important anymore… but he can’t voice that thought out loud, so he’s forced to tolerate the torment of waiting out the rest of your meeting until you finally say you’ll have to keep working later.

The usernames match. The one in your email was the exact same as the one now on the screen.

…

It's one of those moments where what's in front of him is so surreal, he's left so stunned, that he just sits there for a second, completely still, blinking and taking it in. Something that's too perfect to be real. This can't be actually happening, he's mistaken.

And thus he's just left perfectly still, a stupor of disbelief, sitting there in the darkness of the room with only the harsh light of phone screen shining up on his face as it slowly sinks in. It takes a minute — this is just the sort of thing that doesn't happen, it's far too perfect, he has to convince himself it isn't a dream.

And once it registers as reality, it feels exhilarating.

For one, it proves every suspicion right. He really did have a valid reason to be distrusting of your innocent girl act. To think, this whole time you were trying to fool him into believing you were good.

But all along, you were whoring out online, and basically, the fact that you're not upfront about that to someone you barely know is the same as outright lying about it.

Up until this point, life has just been so boring, so disappointing, just going through day to day… even college was just a thing to do because it's what everyone else does. But now? Now he has something exciting. A sudden sense of something meaningful, even if only as an outlet for pure, unadulterated malice.

As for you, well, you get a… well, a follower, but certainly not a fan.

The boy is a world-class hater. It's not passive hating, it's active hating. There is actual effort being put in here, and a lot of it at that.

In terms of the content itself, it's nothing you haven't seen before — some guy leaving comments and DMs calling you a whore and a slut and every nasty name one can conjure, saying you've ruined any hopes of a relationship by doing this, why would anyone ever date you when they can see you naked for a few bucks, telling you to get a real job, blah blah… fairly generic. A lot of the verbiage is certainly non-original, and more or less recycled, specific choices of words and phrases and lingo you know you’ve seen before in those pockets of the internet where certain types of men congregate.

But the sheer dedication to it is what catches you off guard. You're pretty sure this guy is more dedicated to harassing you than you are to the job itself. There's messages from all hours of the day, and you're certain after a short time that he makes multiple accounts for the sole purpose of harassing you. Not to mention he follows or adds you on everything — all the socials you've linked (you keep several associated to your account to lure in horny guys from mainstream sites), adds you on discord and any other messaging app you have (and you have no way of knowing which users are legitimate or if it's him, so you have to add them back and wait to find out each time). One of which you didn't even have listed on your page, so you realize he would have had to go through various apps and search the multiple variations of your username you use until finding you.

Telling him to fuck off accomplishes nothing, in fact he seems to derive great satisfaction from making you upset about it. Tells you that you should be glad — you wanted male attention, right? You wouldn't be posting yourself getting off and flashing your tits on camera for the world to see if you didn't, slut. He adds that insult to just about everything he says to you.

Blocking him only leads to him making new accounts (and then mocking you for trying to block him). You even reached out to a customer support team on one of your social media apps and got him permanently IP banned, which he then immediately circumvented in less than a few hours, making sure to inform you that changing one's IP is so easy and you're so dumb for thinking that would do anything.

But why you, specifically? Why decide to torment you out of every other girl doing this stuff? You don't know. You never asked for this. You never did anything wrong to anyone. You even scrolled back on your social accounts to see if you ever said anything someone could take offensively or had a negative interaction with someone, but found nothing. There's nothing to explain why this one man in particular has decided to come after you specifically, nothing you can think of at least. It feels like the universe just hates you.

It's actually kinda sad. You almost feel bad for this guy, who apparently has so much time to spare and nothing better to do than harass the same girl on the internet day in and day out. You did once shoot back a reply of don’t you have anything better to do?, which actually did make him stop… for about ten hours or so, then it was right back to it.

It's deserved, though, he thinks. E-girls are reprehensible. Taking advantage of guys’ loneliness for money.

Infuriating that you advertise something that he— well, that most guys want so bad, but don't actually give the real thing, only a simulation of it. Make them drool over you, while you hide behind the safety of the screen, far away from what those guys would do to you if they could get their hands on you.

And you know that too, don't you? You know how defenseless you are, know how much danger you'd be in if you teased without putting out like that to a guy in real life, and you do it anyway knowing you're untouchable, you must be so smug about it. Infuriating.

He's not like those simps of yours though, he finds you too morally reprehensible to be drawn to the curves of your body and the parts of you that you post and the sounds you make and how easy it is to imagine the softness of your skin and the way you feel and your warmth and the way you look directly into the camera as you moan and it feels like eye contact—

Anyway, he has standards. And self-respect.

Besides, he knows from stalking your social accounts — including your real ones with your real identity attached, separate from the others — that you have something like a boyfriend. Some guy who shows up in your pictures a lot. What a pathetic idiot. Who lets their girlfriend do this sort of thing? Even disregarding that, does this guy not know you’re meeting with him for your project too? He would never allow you to do something like that, were it him in that position. You must go after spineless guys who will let you walk all over them or something, and would only even accept boyfriends that allow you to do what you do.

That’s why, see, he would never accept something like that. Sure, there would be positives, like getting to see that sweet annoying smile and hear your happy obnoxious precious voice each and every day, and getting to touch you and be around you all the time, and you probably do really nice things for the person you’re with too, and he could always just force you to delete the accounts and never post yourself online again— but, whatever.

Point is, he’s better than stooping so low. He’ll keep living a respectable life, just like he does now — so he thinks as the phone alarm goes off, one of many set reminders to go send you more messages.

It's an awkward relationship, but you're pretty sure he doesn't hate you or anything, which is good. He's hard to read — he seems perpetually either bored or irritated, always slouched over, always maintaining that ‘I really wish I weren't here right now’ tone of voice, lots of heavy sighs or tsks scattered into his speech. Even when you agree to meet at the library to work on the homework and midterm project, he quickly establishes a pattern of being at least ten to fifteen minutes late (without any acknowledgement or apology at that), and frankly, you do the vast majority of the actual work, he just slaps his name on the corner next to yours once it's done.

The torment detracts from your sleep. You're late to your class more than once, trying to sneak in unnoticed by the professor and mumbling apologies to the students you have to slip by to get to your seat. Your partner doesn't seem to care much, at least — he just lazily glances over at you with a flat expression, then goes back to scrolling (he doesn't need to take notes, you'll just send him yours anyway).

He does step in to help when it's too difficult, you can't solve the problem yourself… which is how you realize that, in spite of being remarkably low-effort, he actually does understand the material, much better than you do at that. It's a bit embarrassing, since he makes it out to be so simple, but at least it somewhat compensates for all the work you do.

He's not particularly mean about it, he's just… not nice. The tone and choice of words tends to be not-so-subtly making you out to be dumb for not getting it, or that it's easy, or otherwise belittling.

…You really don't get that one? It's the exact same thing as the last one.

You give a sheepish smile and rub the back of your head.

Aha… sorry…

But it gets done, and that's what matters. You just walk away from each meeting feeling like an idiot, which isn't exactly a great feeling.

But even though you initially felt like the guy didn’t care for you, you quickly notice that he’s started to walk all the way back to your place after your meetings while you talk. You supposed he wouldn’t do that if he didn’t at least somewhat enjoy your company.

And you do try to make conversation. You ask about what other classes he takes…only to learn that he doesn't go to any other classes, since this is the only one where attending is required. He did the math, and he just has to do good on the finals for the other classes to pass, no need to show up for the tests and quizzes and lectures and stuff… and he did research into the professors to find ones where past students confirm they recycle the exact same tests and the past ones are posted online, and he's already got a good cheating method that's only been caught once in all the years he's used it… so there's no point in showing up, he says.

It's a very different mentality than yours, but you try to smile and refrain from saying anything negative. And you try interests and social life as topics, but quickly glean from what little he says that the guy has none of the latter and more or less just a phone and gaming addiction for the former.

Which you have no trouble believing, because good God, does the boy have a totally fried attention span. Even in your meetings, you swear he can't go five minutes without staring at his phone.

Oh, you like that too…?

That does end up helping you find a means to try and get closer. You manage to find one opening, something flash across the screen for some upcoming game. One you've been looking forward to as well.

Huh? You can’t like that thing. He likes that thing. It's not for females. It’s for people with good taste… it’s good… you can’t… someone like you would never be able to properly appreciate it… and now you’re just babbling away with that dumb smile while he’s going through a psychological crisis and rethinking every choice in life because of you. Does this put you two on the same intellectual level...? No, of course not, he has to quickly shake off any such doubts.

You were hoping to get a positive reaction, but you get silent bewilderment in his expression at first, for just a second.

Still, you’re supposed to be boring and a normie… you can’t just suddenly shatter the image of you he’s already constructed… and from the way you're talking about it, you know too much to just be pretending to like something for attention (which is the obvious automatic assumption for when females like media that's actually good and worth consuming).

Devastating. Now he has to consider the possibility that you do have interests and a personality besides being deceitfully sweet and whoring online.

But from your perspective, he just crosses his arms and shrugs.

Kind of, I guess.

And God, then you smile at him again. Every time you do that, it gives him some godawful tight-chested feeling, like you’re trying to kill him with psychic damage.

What gives you the right to be so happy right now anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be in constant distress, now? Is he not doing good enough of a job at tormenting you? You seemed upset, but clearly not upset enough, if you’re still emotionally stable enough to be nice to him. He has to break you, make you too distraught to even go on.

Online, you’re so mean, you never have anything nice to say, even though he’s not that mean to you — well, he could be worse, at least, which is basically the same thing.

Actually, he decides, how you behave in real life will be a good standard of how good he’s doing at making your life miserable. Once it starts to noticeably affect you even in real life, that means it’s sufficient.

But you prove resilient. Each day, you seem to get up, summon some resolve to still enjoy your life, and are still pleasant and friendly… or maybe you’re just really good at acting. Yes, obviously that’s it, since your whole sweetness thing is just an act in the first place.

On your end, the harassment gets worse. It comes in all hours of the day — does this guy not sleep? It’s almost hard to believe someone hates you this much, or even has the energy to keep this up… you start trying to just ignore it.

You tried threatening to report the guy for harassment, but he points out that he hasn’t threatened you with any real harm, and only targeted your public accounts, so no laws broken… and he’s already prepared by taking measures to— well, you don’t understand the spew of lingo that follows, but you gather that the jist is that it would be very difficult to trace him.

So you start to ignore it. You try your best to just not let it get to you, let the comments and messages go without acknowledgement or response. It’s actually somewhat relieving, if you just pretend it doesn’t exist. At first, when you start ignoring him, the messages get more frequent.

But then, it goes quiet for a day. Just around twenty-four hours, you don't get messages, nor comments.

It should make you feel relieved, you think, but it doesn't. Quite the opposite — you feel uneasy. Like something will happen.

He's getting bored, you see. You don't react as strongly anymore as you used to. You used to get so upset at all the messages he sent, and it was so fun to watch how you'd get all defensive and angry in your replies.

Then your replies got shorter, and now— what gives your the right to ignore him? It infuriates him. Dumb whore, treating him like you think you're so much better… or, the gut-wrenching thought passes through his mind, maybe you're busy, you’re probably visiting the guys you sleep around with, since someone like you could never be loyal to that boyfriend he's certain you have.

The only option is to progress things further. He has to think about that. He didn't really have a plan on where to go from here, but now he's started to think about the bigger picture, what he wants in the long term… and that's not going to go over well for you.

It takes some work and digging on his end, but it's worth it.

It's around three in the morning when your phone goes off. It just barely manages to wake you up. You think to yourself that you should remember to turn off the notifications for messaging apps… but for now, you sit up, groggily unlocking your phone. Seeing who the message is from, though, snaps you into full alertness.

A message that makes you go stiff, staring at your phone wide-eyed and slack-jawed, a cold knot of dread forming in your gut that quickly turns to an electrifying surge of pure panic as you read.

The name of your academic institution. The names, emails and phone numbers of your immediate family members. Your full, real name — and your address, down to the unit number.

Your heart sinks into your stomach. The glaring light hurts your tired eyes, but you can't look away.

You know he's just waiting on a response. Probably knows you're panicking, but knows you have no choice but to comply — and you're forced to give him the satisfaction of seeing you type back.

>What do you want from me?

It's only a few seconds before you get a reply.

>From now on, do what I want

>Or I ruin your life.

You hesitate a while before responding. Poor you, you must be so scared now that you're finally getting what you deserve. And even then, you just send back a ‘fine,’ even though it took you so long to respond. You were probably trying to think of how to respond, probably typed out longer potential replies, but decided on that to seem tough or something. That's actually almost endearing.

And oh, it's so, so satisfying to finally see you crumble, even if just a bit, the next day. For you to come shuffling into class for once with a downtrodden, nervous expression, making your way over to your spot without the usual greeting.

…Except that's also irritating. What makes you think you can just not say hello, now that you've established a routine of doing so every day of this class? For all you know, he's just the person you know in real life, so you're basically willingly choosing to potentially disappoint him. Not that you are disappointing him, but like, if he actually cared about your dumb little daily greeting, then he would be. He even gives you several extra seconds, and you still don't do it.

You're still fidgeting nervously, lost in thought when the mumbling directed at you pulls you out of your thoughts.

…Something wrong with you?

You seem to realize your sullen energy and attempt to fix it with a twitching, obviously forced smile.

O-oh, no, I'm just tired, haha… good morning!

He doesn't say anything back, just turns back to phone-scrolling as usual. You realize your melancholy must be showing on your face.

You're being overdramatic, too, he thinks. He didn't even give you any demands yet, since he decided it would be more fun to make you wait in suspense for a few hours or so. Seeing you squirm is funny, but really, you're acting like it's so much worse than it is. What a weakling, so sensitive.

It's just gonna be stuff you're used to anyway…

Which is somewhat true. You're used to the demand for private, custom content.

Men pay you sometimes incredible amounts of money for the stuff. Usually, the customization is about personalization — sometimes it's kind of sad, wanting you to say their name or that you love them while you look at the camera, and sometimes it's just more niche fetish stuff, like pictures of your feet or wearing a weird costume.

But everything this mystery man wants is different — the personalization has to do with the fact that it's painful, humiliating, or both. Moreover, he's never content with the first try.

Stuffing your holes with toys and sitting down on them so they go all the way in, specifically, ‘as many as you can fit’ — but even after the painful effort of getting one in each hole—

>That's not enough.

You can fit at least one more somewhere. And you're intentionally using the smaller toys, aren't you? You won't be able to do that next time, so don't try that again.

Then there's the command to get those clamps on your nipples you used in a video of yours a long time ago, the ones connected to each other by a chain, and to tighten them then pull hard enough for them to come off. You have to take a few deep breaths to summon the ability to do it, and even then, it takes a few tugs to get them to come off. By the time they do, your nipples are swollen and red and your eyes are watery from the sting, but nonetheless, a message comes through within a minute of sending the video.

>You didn't tighten them all the way first.

>Do it over.

Or the one to deep throat that one huge toy you have, the one you used in this one video a long time ago — which you now regret ever posting, since there's a reason that you never used that monstrosity again, much less in your throat. At first you're not even sure you can fit it into your mouth, but you force it somehow.

On and on the demands come. He's not paying for any of it, of course, but the premise is the same.

Still, it's not enough. Come on, you didn't even get it very far in, you have to at least get half down your throat. And you didn't hold the phone close enough, can't hear your gagging choking sounds.

>Do it again.

The timing is often terrible, shortly before or after your classes, or odd hours of the night, forcing you to stop whatever you're doing to meet the demand. Thankfully, though, at least you've never gotten a message from him during your meetups with your class partner — you're certain your distress would show on your face, and it would be hard to come up with an excuse for it.

It becomes such routine, and all happens so quickly, it feels surreal, like you're just forced to accept it and go with it. There’s no time to really process it, as you have to get back to doing your school work and going to class and trying to keep up with your regular video content, it's all so overwhelming, yet so simple, you just have to do what you have to do.

One moment you're slapping yourself in the face while you bounce up and down on a toy so long that it bruises your insides for some jerk that's blackmailing you, and running to class the next, desperately trying to rub at the marks on your face to make them go away.

You're worried that the stress is beginning to show. Your most recent quiz scores are lower than usual, you're getting less sleep. Your insides are always sore. You're paranoid and uneasy, and you know it has to be somewhat evident.

Some of the individual demands have lasting consequences, too. Once you were commanded to choke yourself with a belt on camera, specifically until it left bruises… which you begged and protested against because you had one of your class partner meet-ups scheduled for later the same day, but your tormentor said he didn't care and insisted, so you did it, forcing yourself to go through it… and sending an additional picture at the end just to show the purplish marks in detail, up close.

It wasn't the end of the world for your meeting though — the weather wasn't right for it, but you found something that covered your neck up, at least, so the bruises didn't show. That much, at least, allows you to be at ease… although your classmate seems to be in a particularly bad mood that day.

On another occasion, you find yourself laying on your side, gasping and wincing trying to force one of the larger toys you have into your ass, all the way to the base as instructed, toes curling as you pump it back and forth, in and out… only to be told you weren't supposed to touch yourself while you did it, so, predictably, you have to do it again, the ring of muscle clenching down as it's stretched — and, of course, the act leaves a remnant sensation lasting the rest of the day. You have to rush it too, or you'll be late, due to the horrible timing of the command.

You manage to get to class, but when you move to sit, an ache of pain runs up your spine from your poor abused hole, and you wince, face grimacing at the pain.

It doesn't go unnoticed. The guy next to you, ever observant to everything except the professor, casts a lazy glance over to you, looks you up and down before asking what’s the matter, albeit in a half-caring, bored tone of voice…

You give the oh, nothing, I'm fine! response, stammer out something about hurting your leg yesterday, and he merely gives you an 'ah' of acknowledgement before turning his gaze back down… he rests his chin against his hand so that his mouth is covered up, but you swear, you can detect a slight grin from the shape of his eyes. You suppose it checks out that he'd find your clumsiness amusing, even if it's a lie.

On and on it goes. All the time. Day in, day out. It starts off as once per day, but then your tormentor starts piling smaller requests on top of those. Even beyond the daily video, you get increasingly frequent messages at all times of the day — to take a picture of your tits or ass, or a short video of you fingering yourself, or some sort of angle or pose of your body, writing something on your skin, so on and so on.

He doesn't accept any delays, either. You only get a few minutes to fulfill a demand before getting an impatient follow-up asking what the hold up is. Sleep isn't an excuse either, so you're told, so you have to start turning your phone on loud at night to wake you if need be.

You sense a growing impatience. The frequency increases still, as does the intensity of the content you're forced to make. It's as if it's building up to something — surely it has to reach a limit, or he has to get bored, or he'll ditch you and find a new outlet for his sadistic thrills, you hope. You just hope it ends in a way that's positive for you… but you're afraid of the opposite. What if even after all this, he just ruins your life anyway? It's a very real possibility, one you begin considering increasingly as you think over the whole situation.

The increasing severity and number of demands makes you feel like he's getting more upset, as if you're doing something that makes him mad, even though you have no idea what that could be.

You are right, though.

He's also noticed how much more frequently he gets the urge to demand something from you. How much more the itch has grown, the compulsive need to see you hurting and degrading yourself more and more. You've long since passed the point where he has more videos and photos of you all to himself than those available online — he's been counting — but it's still not enough.

And with the realizations that he's engaging with you more, he realizes that he's also thinking about you more.

No, “more” isn't quite accurate. All the time. Constantly. You never leave his head, everything else feels like a distraction.

And that's only more infuriating. He's very self-aware, realizes it's getting worse, realizes you essentially occupy his thoughts every waking second.

Even then, the distractions aren't working. At one point he realized he literally cannot stop himself from messaging you, it's a compulsion, a need, and the realization of his own lack of self-control regarding it is maddening. He actively tried, told himself to wait until the next day, but just couldn't. Even if he plays games or watches whatever brain-rotting media he tries to consume, his thoughts keep drifting to you. Hell, ever since latching onto you, he’s stopped harassing other random women online in general, and that was pretty much one of his biggest hobbies in the past.

What gives you the right? To get inside his head like that? Make him constantly distracted and wondering about what you're doing, forcing him to keep tabs on you? What makes you think you can just come into his life and control him like this, and think you'll get away with it? You've more or less taken advantage of an innocent person who did nothing wrong to you. Used your body to exploit his weaknesses and manipulate him into doing all this.

You don't get to do that. You have to be held accountable.

You're constantly making him worry about you, what you're doing, who you're talking to, and not knowing is a maddening feeling. It feels like nausea, a sick feeling that completely consumes the mind, rendering it incapable of doing or focusing on anything else, only cycling the same obsessive rage and worry and paranoia until it becomes unbearable.

But there's a way to get rid of that, and give you what you deserve, and get what you owe him all at the same time.

He waits, only another week or so — a frustrating week, but spent planning ahead and gathering necessary stuff — but finally, given the timing, you send a text he was hoping you'd send asking about meeting up again, to finish up the project as the end of the semester approaches.

You're a bit caught off-guard by the message, not to mention how quickly he replies.

>Come over here.

You hesitate, re-reading to try and ensure that you're understanding correctly, and finally ask for clarification that he means to his place.

He says yes. Something about how he's supposed to have something delivered that he'll have to sign, and so he has to be at the apartment when that happens, so, y'know, best for you to come over.

Which is nice.

It's just… odd.

Inviting you over, even if for a required activity, feels very out of line with the person you've come to know, however surface-level said knowing may be. Then again, maybe this is the guy's way of trying to be nice. Everyone expresses appreciation differently.

You're still thinking on it when he adds another text saying that his roommate will be there, preemptively apologizes for any disturbance that will cause… well, you figure if someone else is there, it can’t be anything sinister. That helps you make up your mind, so you agree. At this point, you know each other well enough to warrant trust.

…It’s still pretty awkward, though. The apartment is about like a picture you would expect to see uploaded to the internet as a joke about male living spaces. Borderline barren, barring the computer and the bare minimum furniture and appliances needed to survive, plus some clothes and empty cans and such strewn in various places across the floor, all dark lighting and void of color.

That being said, you quickly realize the apartment is only a studio, and there’s only one bed. The roommate doesn't exist.

And something just feels wrong, in a way you can’t articulate. Like your instincts are urging you to leave. You feel uneasy. Goosebumps spread across your skin. Are you just being paranoid…?

There is something else, though, that immediately catches your attention. You notice that the wall isn’t exposed, rather, most of the room is covered with a layer of some sort of paneling, lining the wall almost as thoroughly as wallpaper. You inquire what it is.

Soundproofing.

An unpleasant answer, but he wouldn’t be so upfront about it unless it was for harmless reasons. You refrain from inquiring about the other odd things you start to notice — locks on some cabinets despite seemingly living alone, a roll of tape sitting on the desk with no discernable purpose.

As awkward as the tension is, you really have no option but to sit on the bed, as its the only surface other than the floor. You try not to contemplate how often the average college-aged boy washes bedsheets.

It occurs to you, though, that right now would be the worst possible timing for a message from your unknown harasser, and you certainly can’t take any photos or videos here… thus, just as you sit down and begin to work, you pick up your phone from where you set yours next to his, and type out a quick message, basically pleading with the unknown man to leave you along for the next few hours, because, as you explain, you literally can’t do anything for the time being.

You read it over, and hit send.

And before you can even put the phone back down, there's a vibration a mere arms-length away from you, as the other phone in the room lights up.

And there, in the notification that pops up on the screen, are the very words you just sent.

…

…

There's a few seconds where nothing happens.

Both your heads naturally turn to the sound the moment it happens, but after that, it's just… still. You’re frozen still, he’s frozen still. Both your eyes go wide, and the quiet seconds pass, processing the information before you.

And then, he sighs, body relaxing, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, muttering as if met with some major inconvenience.

God, why do you have to make this more difficult.

Besides, he already turned the lock that locks you in from the inside, even though you probably weren’t aware of what it was, so you’re already trapped anyway. And you squeal, of course, predictably, but that’s what the soundproof panels are for.

He's not particularly worried like he would have been any other time — this was the plan now anyway, but you're throwing things off schedule. Yet another transgression to hold you accountable for.

You do try to run. You at least deserve that much credit. He was so close to considering you a genuine marvel of human evolution, with how nonfunctional your survival instincts seemed to be.

But you’re sitting with your legs folded, so, you don’t have the time required to stand any chance of hopping up and running. The moment your legs start to move to stand, he’s already got you by the arm.

You even seemed to process everything a bit quicker than he would have thought. Maybe you’re not that stupid after all, just… a little less.

You still are incredibly stupid though. He’s almost surprised you agreed to come. So naive, so dumb, so trusting.

And so loud. Squealing like a little animal caught by a predator — which, well, isn’t too far off, but it still hurts his ears.

Shut up, shut up, shut up…

You can hear the growling voice in your ear, even now that he has your face pressed into the mattress, arm latched around your waist. You’re squirming so hard too, but even fighting with all the strength you can summon, it feels like trying to push back a brick wall. He seems to notice as much as you do.

…Is that actually the best you can do?

Not the first time he’s said those words to you — though before, it was over text, mocking you into filling all those perverse desires. It feels far more biting now.

And it’s so, so, so satisfying to see you realize just how dumb you are, as you put everything together. To watch you slowly grasp everything, realize just how badly you’ve fucked up. He even flips you onto your back just to see your face go through all the stages of emotion. It’s hilarious, and adorable too. The confusion and betrayal and panic and anger.

Oh, you get so mad. It’s actually the best part. You’re practically snarling now, reaching up to try and claw at him, kicking, baring your teeth. Any traces of the sweet demeanor you once held is long gone as you lash out… and then, a purely and entirely euphoric transition to fear.

Aw. Poor thing. After you struggle so much, your breathing gets faster, the fury dissipates as your eyes well with tears. The demands to let you go turn to miserable little pleas.

Maybe you can go back and forth. Maybe if he taunts you again you’ll get angry once more, and then if he slaps you you’ll get meek and fearful again? That would be nice, to have reliable ways to switch your emotions around, as if controlling them with a button. There will be plenty of time to find out later.

But now he gets the opportunity to finally tell you how long you made him wait for this. Mocks you for how naive you were. Brings up specifics from all those videos you sent him. Did you think it would just be left at that? Did you really not realize it wouldn’t be enough? No, of course you didn’t, and that’s why you ended up coming here like the dumb little slut you are.

And look, you even wore something so easy to flip up, practically easy access. You just have no shame at all, do you. See, it goes in perfectly because you’ve been using those toys for those videos, and… ah, so that’s— that’s what it feels like… holy shit… this is what you basically robbed him of all this time? Now you’ll really have to suffer to make up for it…

Well, you wouldn’t get it. It’s about what you did subconsciously, mind games and all that. His torment was intentional on your end, and that’s what matters. Now you'll get to spend a very very long time atoning for it. You should be happy. You won't even have to worry about making money anymore.

This wouldn’t be happening to you if you didn’t do what you did to him, you know. It’s your fault. He tells you so. And when you look up at him, eyes welled with tears, stammering out a question of what he means—

What did I ever d-do to you…?

—he realizes that it’s… difficult to give that question a concrete answer.

What did you do, really...?

The only problem that remains is how you rushed things. He was at least going to wait until you finished the project, but now it’s incomplete… do professors grant extensions if your partner goes missing…?

[fakescenariosbeforesleepblog]

We won't be like them.

Ghost x Reader.

Mistakes were made in the past by your families, now, you and ghost are starting a family, and this situation takes both to reconsider if you will repeat the same paths that your families took or will you fix it.

Warning: grammatical and spelling errors, I think there's no mention of the reader's gender but if there's please forgive me.

The credits of the pics belong to @ave661

Simon wasn't at home but he would arrive soon, both have been trouble, arguing frequently for the most stupid things.

It's late at night, your newborn is sleeping, after hours of singing lullabies, walking around the house to help him to sleep, he's finally sleeping.

You were a mess, you didn't take a shower, dirty dishes are awaiting you in the kitchen, the laundry is still in the washer since you didn't have time to put it in the dryer, dirty diapers are making the house smell bad, and your poor baby cried for hours and hours, it wasn't a good day for you, you just need ten minutes to rest.

You're sitting close to the crib when the door opens and then a bark echoes around the house, you stand up and run out of the room quickly to ask Simon to take the dog out or keep it in silence but then your baby starts to cry.

«Shit» you whispered walking back to the room, taking your baby in arms and talking him softly to try to calm him down «it's okay baby, shhh, it's all alright, don't cry please, shhh, shh...» Ghost rapidly understands the reason the baby's crying, he takes the dog to the garage and goes directly to the baby's room to help. Unfortunately your face says more than necessary, you're not happy.

- I'll take care of him, go to rest.

- As if I could...

You rolled your eyes. He can't be mad at you, he knows he messed up.

- Sorry... the mission took me more than expected, please let me help you with him.

- It's fine, I have it under control, take a shower you stink.

He sighs and leaves the room, walking through the house he observes all the mess, toys scattered, the smell of poo and dirty dishes, the laundry. He really can't blame you, you stayed alone with a newborn for days, but he can't avoid feeling overwhelmed by all the mess and the situation, he never expected to have a family because of both pasts but here he is, husband and now father, it's all new for both of you, but moments like this makes him wonder if you and him took the right decision.

He took a quick shower and as soon as he finished he went directly to the laundry room and put all the wet clothes in the dryer and put another load of clothes, he thinks the least he can do right now is try to help with the workload, even if he feels tired he knows you must be more than exhausted.

Poor Simon, he forgot to separate the baby's clothes from the rest, then he washed the dishes but he forgot to sterilize the feeding bottles.

Finally your baby is sleeping peacefully again, you are tired but you have work to do, maybe Simon is hungry or needs something, the poor man didn't have intentions to wake up the baby, it wasn't very polite of you to reject him and then tell him he was stinky.

On your way to the kitchen you started to clean a little, taking the bags of dirty diapers out, picking up the toys when you hear the alarm from your dryer, Simon tried to help after all you said, you're taking out the clothes when you notice the washer is also working and unfortunately there's clothes from the baby mixed with yours and Simon's clothes.

You're walking to the kitchen to tell Simon he forgot to not mix the laundry when then, the feeding bottles are mixed with the dishes and casseroles too.

He's drying and ordering all the kitchen stuff with the same dishcloth.

- What are you doing!? Simon you mixed the baby's stuff! Oh god, do you have a clue of the new load of work your adding me! I will have to wash and sterilize all the baby's things again!

- Sorry... I was trying to help, I forgot about it.

- «Sorry, sorry» is all you know to say but the damage is done! Fuck!

- Calm down, I'll take care of it.

- You have done more than enough, why don't you go to another long mission and leave me alone again, huh?

He's shocked as much as you, you know you said something really horrible, there's no way you can step back.

- What did you say?

- I'm... Ahhh, Nothing, I'm just tired.

- Do you think I went to that bloody mission to leave you here alone with the baby? I didn't want to but it was work and I can't reject it.

- What about the paternity permission?

- I would have the authorization after this mission, I told you about it but it seems you weren't paying attention.

You scoffed, clearly offended and annoyed.

- Well sorry, I'm worried about our newborn, it's my first time with a baby and I'm trying to do it well, you could also pay more attention when I told you I don't want to mix our stuff with his.

- I forgot it, okay? I'm as tired as you! I said I will fix it and you started to argue!

- I wouldn't start if it wasn't for you and that god-damned dog barking as crazy! Your son hasn't slept the whole day and you arrived doing all that noise!

- and am I supposed to know that!?

- Don't yell! You will wake him up Simon!

- It's you who's yelling!

- Now it's me? You're blaming me for everything just like my dad did to my mom!

-And You're exploding against me just like my father!

Both stopped when the little boy started to cry again. Ghost just walked out of the kitchen and went upstairs, you stayed there cursing yourself and started to wash the bottles again, then you went to check the washer and separate the clothes.

Your son cried for a few more minutes but then stopped. You finished all the stuff you had pendant, you saw Simon's backpack In the doorframe, there was probably more laundry inside so you took it and just as you expected, more dirty clothes, you were separating it by colours as usual when you saw his uniform with fresh blood. You sighed annoyed but then the thought of Simon being injured kicked your mind, you put the clothes in a bucket with some hydrogen peroxide to quit the blood easily and went upstairs.

Simon was putting the baby in his baby crib when he looked at you and made a signal to be silent. Once both are out of the room you point to the bathroom, he doesn't say nothing and follows you.

- Are you hurt?

- What?

- I saw your uniform with blood, is it yours?

- Oh, it's nothing, the medic helped me, I'll be better in a few days.

- Let me see, do we need to clean the wound or something?

- It's fine Love, nothing serious.

Your eyes are full of tears, you feel guilty, he tried to help with all and his wound and you didn't do more than yell at him.

- I'm sorry Si, I didn't mean to explode with you, I was stressed you arrived at home expecting to have some peace and instead of it you found all the mess, I'm so sorry.

He just hugs you and whispers «it's okay my love, shhh, it's ok» once you stop your tears you check on his wound, it's not so bad but was bleeding a little bit more, you were cleaning it when he spoke.

- Look at me, love, I know you're exhausted it wasn't my intention to give you more work, I really was trying to help you.

- I know, I'm sorry... We... we have to solve these things now before that boy starts to grow up, I don't want to give him the same childhood we had, I want to give him a good family, good memories and we're not doing it well lately... We argue all the time and I think the baby feels our stress and then he stresses too... We're bad parents... We are not doing it right.

- I know, we have things to solve, and I want to tell you I have all the intention to fix it, we're new to this, it's also not fair for us to put us expectations of being perfect all the time. we can... Read about parenthood or look for professional help, we will do all in our possibilities to change and be better, it won't happen from night to morning it'll take time, we won't follow our families steps, I promise you I will be a better husband and a good father for our son.

You smiled at him and he returns the smile, you love when he does it, Simon never smiles except when he's with you, nobody else. His smile is only for you and now for your little boy, his words reassure you, he's right it'll be a long process but you will make it, this new family will work.